Be it so known that the bearer of this charter has been charged by the Swordlords of Restov, acting upon the greater good and authority vested within them by the office of the Regent of the Dragonscale Throne, has granted the right of exploration and travel within the wilderness region known as the Greenbelt. Exploration should be limited to an area no further than thirty-six miles east and west and sixty miles south of Oleg’s Trading Post. The carrier of this charter should also strive against banditry and other unlawful behavior to be encountered. The punishment for unrepentant banditry remains, as always, execution by sword or rope. So witnessed on this 24th day of Calistril, under watchful eye of the Lordship of Restov and authority granted by Lord Noleski Surtova, current Regent of the Dragonscale Throne.
The cart creaks as it jostles side to side because of the rutted road. “Damn these southern roads! Can’t afford to crack another wheel...” the driver lets out over his shoulder.
His words snap you out of a daze as you look up from the Swordlords charter, you are still in awe in that you were selected to explore the wilderness of the Greenbelt. You just survived a harsh winter and are now setting off into the unknown. The reason is your own, maybe to be shared...
As you look around the cart and see four vastly different adventurers looking out into the wilderness as you ride. Other than the man guiding the two horses, it has been a silent trip up to this point. Realizing you are just a day away from Oleg’s Trading Post, you think it would be in your favor to get to know the members of this exploration troop.
Alerted to other than reviewing the charter Bertrand roles that up and stows it in his pouch. Glancing at his traveling companions he realizes that he knows nothing about any of them, and likewise they about him. With his pure average human looks, brown hair, brown eyes, rough traveling clothing with simple weapons, he looks like a commoner that somehow convinced someone to be included on this trip. He'd possibly have trouble convincing a caravan master to hire him as a guard!
Shifting in his seat he hopes that they will arrive shortly. He'd almost like to jump down and walk to stretch his muscles, but isn't sure that he could do it while moving without possibly falling and embarrassing himself. Besides, why walk when you could ride?
Glancing around again he assesses the others:
Human with a holy symbol of Abadar. Possible meat shield that I can stay behind. Healer type?
Dwarf with some armor and several weapons. Another possible meat shield? and short enough that he might be easier to fire over. I like dwarves. Stoic folk that can carry a lot without a concern....
Human with light armor and a really big sword. ?? Probably moves around a lot, and fast in combat. Definitely not a good idea trying to stay behind him.
And finally another human in light chain with a sword and longbow. Hmm... If he focuses on using the bow he probably wouldn't want a mage trying to stay behind him.
Rather than rely on his assumptions Byron leans back and speaks out to the whole group. "If we're to work together we probably should know a little bit about each other. My name is Bertrand Strahnd, but call me whatever works easiest for you. Bert, mage, or 'hey you'.... But that last might get the attention of more than just me. I'm a mage. My specialty is divination but I've got a fair mix of other magics too. Like most magi I do my best to stay out of direct combat, but I don't mind getting my hands dirty with common labor. Where my magic works I prefer to use it. Where it doesn't, that won't mean that I turn away and wait for someone else."
A rugged looking man of fairly average proportions sits quietly in the back of the cart. He has pale skin and dark brown hair and eyes. A scar across his left cheek indicates he is no stranger to combat. He wears a light chain shirt and a cloak that matches the dark green of the forests. His equipment all looks brand new, with the exception of an old, yet well-maintained longbow. He is staring off into the woods deep in thought, seemingly relieved to be out of the city.
"This has all gone much better than I was expecting. Who'd have thought that I'd ever end up working on an expedition for the Swordlords. A few days from now and I'll be deep into the wilderness. They won't be able to find me here."
The bump in the road brings Halden's attention back to the matter at hand. He turns to the group and says, "My name is Halden Elwood, or just Hal if you prefer to keep things simple. I'm a good shot with this bow, and I can handle myself in a sword fight. I've been a hunter my whole life, so I know a thing or two about getting along in the wilderness. It is good to finally meet all of you."
The lean figure of Sigra Darastrix was reclined as far back as the cramped cart would allow. Her eyes were closed and her nearly six-foot sword rested between her legs. She almost appeared to be dozing. But even a cursory glance cast her way revealed that the young woman was anything but at ease. Her hands were busy wringing the long handle of the sword in what seemed a death grip, bony knuckles standing out pure white. Her eyes were also not merely closed, but shut tight with her brow furrowed as if in deep concentration. Which was precisely what she was doing. She was concentrating on ignoring the sinuous and insistent voice slithering its way into the forefront of her mind once again. The Voice.
Sigga... Sigga... Sigga...
Sigra had lived with the Voice inhabiting her head her entire life. Sometimes it went quiet for a while. At others it would speak to her directly. Sometimes it would snarl. And at others again it would scream. But she knew what it wanted with every syllable spoken. It wanted what it had always wanted, ever since she was a child: the Voice demanded that Sigra hurt others. And she was not at all happy about this.
Don't you dare ignore me, Sigga...
While the Voice undeniably dominated her life, Sigra had gotten better at resisting its commands with age. But she knew this would only work for a time. The Voice would only grow louder and more powerful the more she defied it. It would scream abuse at her every hour of the day if it had to. It would deny her sleep. It would drive her mad (assuming she wasn't already) if necessary. Sigra had been through it all so many times by now. All she could do was manage it. This was why she had taken up work as a mercenary. It was why she was here in the wilderness, in the Stolen Lands chasing bandits; because at least here she wouldn't hurt any innocents.
Bertrand's voice caused her to sit up with a start, wide-eyed; her focus on her own inner turmoil was such that she quite forgot the world around her. She looked at the innocuous man as he introduced himself. A mage, huh? He was right, of course; the five companions needed to familiarize themselves with each other. They were to fight together, after all. But compatriots were something she had always avoided, as much for their sake as for her own. Someone with her condition couldn't afford friends.
When Bertrand and Halden turned to her, Sigra had to somewhat haltingly clear her throat before speaking.
"I'm Sigra. Darastrix. Sigra Darastrix."
A second passed.
"... Nice to meet you both. I... I'm just a sword arm. I'll hurt whoever needs hurting."
KILL, Sigga. Don't try to sweeten it. You'll kill whoever I tell you to.
Sigra compulsively shook her head as if to chase away some imaginary fly in a gesture that no doubt looked odd to her companions.
Lordar took a look at his companions, his serious face changed in an open smile and, with deep voice, he spoke "Nice to meet you all. I'm Lordar, keeper of the faith of Abadar. I'm here in order to serve the gods, and I'll be glad to offer my help in anything you may need. I have been trained in court, but I can fight if the words don't work"
He straightned in his place and kept on speaking "It looks like we are a nice team for this mission, I guess. It's a blessing to share this adventure with such honorable people".
Lordar observed his companions for the rest of the trip, trying to find out their skills.
As you all begin speaking the driver jumps for a moment as you have startled him; “Hey now, you all do talk. I was beginning to think they hired me to ship down a bunch of dumb folks to the Greenbelt. Ha, Oleg sure would have loved that.”
Turning on his bench towards the party he begins you eye you all over. “Well you all look capable, so I take it you’re not being sent down here as punishment for something. What brings you down to the Greenbelt? You know its an untamable, deadly land?” He pulls out a pipe from under his cloak and begins to thumb in some tobac. As he lights his pipe, you begin to become overtaken by the sweet cherry like aroma from his pipe smoke.
"Nice to meet you all. I'm Lordar, keeper of the faith of Abadar."
Sigra stared at Lordar just long enough for it to be uncomfortable. An Abadaran, huh? Was he a paladin, she wondered? He looked the part in his church endorsed armor, but one could never be certain with these things. Either way, she was glad to have him on board. A lawbringer was certainly appreciated in lawless lands and although Sigra herself was hardly the most principled of individuals, she had nothing against the Abadaran faith. Heck, she had spent many a night fruitlessly trying to pray her condition away, beseeching the Master of the First Vault too among many...
Stop that. I've told you this before. Only the weak need the gods. They are not for us. WE are strong.
Sigra made another unnatural twitch of the head to drive away the Voice, and, realizing how she must look, then tried to pass it off as a nod in greeting to the paladin.
"... Hi."
“What brings you down to the Greenbelt? You know its an untamable, deadly land?”
After taking just a moment to enjoy the aroma of the pipe smoke, Sigra deigned to answer the question in her own subdued manner. She didn't want to be rude.
"... Just a job. Bandit clearing."
She nearly lapsed back into silence before realizing that their driver might be more familiar with the area and its inhabitants than anyone in the party. Good info was worth its weight in gold.
"Know anything about them? The bandits?"
Good. That's the way, Sigga. Find our next target. Find our next kill.
Sigra gulped and looked a bit sick.
Slightly surprised by the words of the driver, Bertrand glances around at the others. "Untamable? No land is truly untamable. Land is just land and if there are bandits, monsters, or some truly unique things on it, that is all that needs to be tamed. I'm sure that with spell and sword we can handle anything this land throws at us."
Hearing Sigga's question he adds "If not just bandits, perhaps you've some stories of something interesting in the area?"
Halden looks around at the members of the party. He wondered if he would be able to trust these people. Bertrand the wizard seemed nice enough, yet Halden got the impression that he had not spent much time outside of a city before. In his experience, such people did not last too long in the wild, but Halden hoped the mage would prove him wrong.
He was less sure what to think of Sigra Darastrix. There was clearly something strange going on with the warrior, but Halden wasn't sure what. Still, anyone with such a large sword was not someone Halden wanted to cross.
A brief look of concern flashes across Halden's face when Lordar mentions his worship of Abadar. Despite not being very well educated in matters of religion, Halden knew that a servant of Abadar might not be so forgiving of his criminal past. Probably best for him to avoid Lordar.
When the driver asks Halden's reason for joining the expedition, he pauses for a moment before answering, "I'm just here for the money. They needed my skills and I need the gold." The tone of his voice suggests that there might be something else to it, but whatever it is, he does not elaborate.
As the question of the bandits came up, Halden thought back to his own days as a brigand. He wondered if the bandits of the Greenbelt would be simple robbers like the clans he used to run with, or something more sinister. If they were anything like the last group he was a part of, putting them down would be all the more satisfying.
Lordar was listening to their companions and observing all their reactions.
Perhaps, they see me as a menace. Everyone has a past, and surely I'm not the only one running away from it ...
Let's see:
An... 'explorer' A poacher? An army deserter? But a great mate to survive in the wilderness.
A... 'warrior'? What could be she fleeing? I'm not sure, but she seems dangerous. Good to have it on our side when the bandits come... if they come.
And a diviner? What does a mage need from the wilderness? Money? Anyway, I hope he is good with his tricks...
And... you! What kind of things can you contribute, Lordar?
Damn... I hope Abadar guide me and my mates are trustworthy
Untamable? I'm with you, Bertrand, none is really untamable.
And this is not only about it... Past can't be changed, but this is our oportunity to change our future.
What would you do uf you were the landlords?
Lordar said, and he watched the others with a piercing gaze.
“A woman of few words... Ha, I should have brought my wife on this trip she seems to always have something to say.” Laughing, he shakes his head as if in his own thoughts. “Bandits... whats to know about bandits. They are traitors to the throne and should all be put down.” He spits after that comment.
Nodding towards Bertrand “Interesting stories... As a man who takes people here and there I have learned to weed out the “tall tales” of life. But, I did hear one that was so tall that it could only be true. There was a man heading east that said the bandits were banding together under one leader.” Turning back towards the party; “But bandits are not the worst thing you will need to be watchful of. They might be the smartest, but not the most deadly.”
“Then again, what do I know? I only stay on this South Road...”
He turns his attention back towards his horses and the road in front of him. Other than any conversations you all might have, the rest of the day goes by uneventful. You pass travelers on horseback and foot heading both ways. When you stop for camp this evening Several travelers join you in your encampment, there is always strength in numbers when camping in the wilderness.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Well here you are, Oleg’s Trading Post. To be frank, I will be back this way heading north in a week or so. If it’s harsher than you were expecting I can pick you up on my way through. You won’t be the first or last who run home.” As he whips his horses into motion you hear him chuckling to himself.
Looking down a path that is smaller than the one you have been traveling on, you see it leads to a structure that looks more like a fort than it does a trading post.
Oleg’s Trading Post is but a short five minute walk down the way. As you begin to get closer you begin to hear the sound of a hammer on wood, the smell of something cooking over a fire, and a welcoming open door.
The wooden palisade stands 10 feet high around this structure, other than the 20 foot high watchtowers at each corner of the Trading Post. Those who would be more curious about this building notice what looks like catapults on the top of each watchtower.
Walking through these 30 foot wide doors, clearly made for receiving large shipments or troops, you see what is clearly a stable to your left, three buildings, and a sitting area where you see a large kettle over a fire. This is clearly where the smell of cooking is coming from.
Looking to the building to the right, you see gruff looking man repairing the roof. He looks towards the group and turns back to his work.
Standing up from tending to the kettle, a woman smiles kindly as soon as she notices you all come through the doors; “Welcome!” As she makes her way towards the party, you notice that she is well into a pregnacy. “My name is Svetlana Leveton. The man up there that is trying his hardest to ignore you is my husband Oleg.” She holds out one hand greeting you while she rubs and supports her belly. “Come, sit. I have prepared a meal. I knew you would be here, but I would have never expected so quickly. We are so blessed that Restov would send aid.” Jesturing towards the tables around the fire, she begins to scoop stew into bowls and set them before each of you.
The paladin took a look around, seeking other possible travellers , and spoke to the woman
Excuse me, miss. Do you need help? It seems a quiet place, what are you worried about?
Bertrand considers the 'story' from the driver. Bandits were a nuisance that they'd been given free hand to get rid of. But if someone was trying to bring groups of bandits together? Kingdoms could be started by such if the leader was smart enough. He thanks him before shouldering his equipment and leaving the wagon.
Walking down the path toward the trading post he studies the building. A defensible structure makes sense considering the area. The watchtowers would provide a good place to watch for dangerous enemies approaching and would be good for firing missiles down on them. It would only take a small garrison of men to hold against a large force of bandits.
Of course as a trading post the doors would be open. The wide gateway and the open market area would provide for fairly large wagons bringing supplies in and taking them away, back to the kingdom. It was an excellent set up.
He is surprised at the pregnancy of the lady greeting them. This is rather rough living for a woman in such condition, but he realizes it is their choice. He sets his gear aside and sits as directed, happy for such a greeting. Maybe this task wouldn't be as hard as he had thought? Then he hears her words. "Aid? Well, we weren't sent... But what aid would you need? I'm sure we can assist. Just let us know what you need."
Sigra furrowed her brow at the coach driver's words. The outlaws were banding together? Fighting an enemy on their home turf was one thing. Fighting a gang that outnumbered you was another. But fighting a coalition of multiple gangs where they had the terrain advantage? The mission ahead of the party suddenly sounded a good deal more daunting. But if the woman felt any hesitation at this development, it was immediately invalidated by the low rumbling growl echoing through her skull. The Voice would not allow her to walk away from a fight. Not without dire, mind-rending, consequences. For a moment Sigra looked truly despondent, not at the thought of the bandits, but at the certainty that the Voice would be the death of her some day. Some day she would get in over her head and not be able to back away. It was only a matter of time.
It was good then that Bertrand and Lordar had a significantly more chipper outlook. 'No land is truly untamable'? Sigra wondered. They certainly sounded like the words of an academic and an idealist respectively. Perhaps it was due to her upbringing, but she had trouble seeing the world as anything but a great maelstrom of powers beyond man's control. Mayhap Bertrand was right and land truly was just land, but Sigra could have interjected that it then followed that man was just man. Sigra's entire life had revolved around little but adapting to forces beyond her control, whether it be starting life an orphan or surviving in an uncaring city or indeed her condition. It behooved one to know the limit of their influence. There was freedom in that knowledge. But what did she know? She was just a sellsword. A sellsword intimately familiar that some things were truly untamable.
Somewhere behind her ear the Voice let out a raspy breath in recognition.
What would you do uf you were the landlords?
The question took her by surprise. Partly because she had never even considered such a scenario, partly because it seemed so hopelessly naive. Childish even. Here they were, five strangers not even in the Greenbelt proper, and the paladin was already speculating political policies and procedures of a purely theoretical state in said 'untamed wilderness'. It was awfully optimistic. But she liked that, actually. It even snuck a smirk on her otherwise impassive lips. While not the most hopeful of individuals, she admired optimism in others. The world was dour enough as is; nothing wrong with a little hope.
"... I've never managed a room bigger than a prison cell. Poorly, at that. What would I do with a land?"
It was true. Heck, she wasn't even master of her own mind. How could she rule a people?
----------
"... Thank you, ma'am."
At Oleg's Trading Post, Sigra accepted the bowl of stew from Svetlana and sat down at her direction. Both as an orphan and as a mercenary she had long since learned to eat not when hungry, but whenever possible. You never knew when you'd see your next meal. She looked around the compound as she waited to hear how the party could serve here.
Stop being so damn subservient. These peasants should serve you. They should fear you. You should MAKE them fear you.
Sigra dropped her spoon in the bowl as a strong tremor overtook her hand.
Looking around you, you notice that no one else is around except Oleg, Svetlana, and two horses.
As Svetlana is scooping out the stew, she trembles and almost drops the bowl when Bertrand says they were not sent; “I am sorry, did I spill any one you?” She begins to wipe up any spills. “Things have been hard these past few months... We have been facing some extra... taxes.” She turns her face away embarrassed and in shame.
Coming around the fire, Oleg places a hand on her shoulder. “Taxes? Blast it Svet, its down right robbery... and what you thought was help from Restov ends up being travelers. This is none of your trouble. Names Oleg, and you’ve already met my wife, Svetlana.” Oleg kisses her head and move to the far side of one of the tables and faces the group. “Just passing through I take it? Its a bit early for a stop, have any trade you’re needed to get rid of?”
Surprised by the lady's response, Bertrand listens to the exchange trying to figure out the issue. While he can't read minds a couple of things are obvious. Svetlana had thought that they were guards sent by the government and she was upset that the looked for help hadn't arrived. Oleg didn't like outsiders and was protective of his wife. Trying to figure out the right balance of truth and lie he decides that not mentioning the government while offering help might work....
"Well, we're not exactly just passing through, but we also aren't traders. But maybe we can help if you're needing it and can point us the right direction. We're adventurers and we were told there were some bandits around here causing trouble. Maybe you know where they might be? The driver on the way even mentioned something about a new leader that was organizing them. Gotta stop that or it wouldn't be remotely safe for anyone living in this area or even passing through."
Sigra observed their host's face shift from rosy optimism to its current crestfallen state as she learned that the group wasn't here chiefly for her and her husband's benefit. 'Taxes', huh?
"The bandits. We know," she said, staring straight into Svetlana's eyes.
"They're not our main assignment here, but they're our concern too. Don't worry. We'll help you."
So the outlaws were running a protection racket minus the protection on these people. Smart. More profitable in the long term than just plundering the poor couple outright. And it told the party two valuable things to know about the bandits: firstly that they weren't stupid. And secondly that they were here for the long haul. Neither of which was good news for the five adventurers. This job really was going to be more trouble than anticipated.
"How do you pay them? Do they come here? An ambush may be our best option."
Somewhere deep within the halls of her mind, Sigra could feel the Voice growling its displeasure at her sympathy towards Oleg and Svetlana. But it kept quiet, no doubt because it knew this would lead the mercenary to the bandits and with them to more battle and murder.
"... It's good stew."
Halden frowned when he heard the driver's rumors about a leader uniting the bandit clans. In all of his years as a bandit, he had never heard of such a thing. Bandits tended to fight each other over territory more than anything else. Anyone able to create such an alliance of bandits must be a truly fearsome individual. Halden shook his head. The stories were probably nothing more than rumors. But if they were true, this mission was going to be much more difficult than even he had anticipated.
The optimistic words of Lordar and Bertrand were somewhat concerning. Did they not realize how dangerous this was going to be? Probably not. They looked like city folk with no experience living in the wilderness. Halden supposed he shouldn't judge them too harshly yet. He hadn't seen them in action, and the team was going to need a little optimism to get through this.
What would you do uf you were the landlords?
The question catches Halden off guard. He had spent all of his time lately focusing on staying alive, and hadn't really concerned himself with what this expedition could mean for him if he succeeded. What Halden wanted most of all was a safe haven, a place where people like him could come together to start again. Somewhere he could really call home.
"Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren't you? You're an outlaw, not a lord. The only reason you're here is to run from your past, not to build some ideal future."
Halden eventually answers the question by saying, "I'm not sure what I would do. Probably best not to concern ourselves with it too much. We've got a job to do here first."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At Oleg's Trading post, Halden will graciously accept Svetlana's meal. When she mentions that bandits have been giving her trouble, he feels a pang of guilt. Not too long ago, he likely would have been one of those bandits.
"We aren't soldiers, but I think we can still help you. We're here to explore the Greenbelt, and deal with any bandits we find in the process. If you tell us more about what's been going on, we may be able to do something about it."
The paladin was lost in their thoughts, remembering all he knews about the zone.
When Svetlana served the meal, Lordar accepted the stew with a smile and a slight reverence.
Excelent!, he said sincerely after tasting the meal. And now, you have all our attention, and, doing a gesture towards an empty chair, he continued come on, tell us what is the situation of your trade post, and your problems with taxes and bandits, because, perhaps, by helping you, we could be helping ourselves too
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“Well here you are, Oleg’s Trading Post.”
As the cart lurches to a stop, the snoring dwarf jolts awake. "WHA-" he shouts as he sits up suddenly. He reels and the motion of the cart combined with his lack of balance causes him to fall off the side of the cart, face first in the mud.
He lies there for a moment.
Then another.
Finally he rolls over, with a pained expression on his face. His eyes remain clenched shut, and he clutches his head. "Aaagghhh..." he moans. "Are we there yet? And does anyone else hear that drumming? Or is it just me?"
He gingerly gets up and then wheezes, putting his hands on his knees for support. "I'm all right lads, just give me a minute. There's a medicine for me condition, after all." He reaches under his coat and fishes out a tin flask. He unstoppers it and takes a couple of swigs. "Ahhh... that should clear me head. Be with you in a minute." He wipes his mouth with the back of his muddy sleeve and stands up straight, looking around. At Svetlana's invitation, he blinks a few times.
"Uh, yeah... I could eat. Thanks."
Brother Belchfast eats mechanically but heartily, periodically mumbling compliments to Svetlana about the food. But as the description of the predations of the bandits continues, Belchfast begins to pay closer and closer attention, and his face darkens with anger.
Finally, he can take no more. "Enough!" he shouts, pounding the table with his tankard. "No decent dwarf can stand idly by while the innocent are oppressed by the wicked!"
He hips out his rapier (nearly taking Bertrand's ear off in the process and cutting the end off one of the candlesticks on the table), and holds it high. He jumps up on his chair pointing his rapier to the sky (or at least the chandelier).
"In Cayden's name we shall drive back the villains and let them see that they are no match for good people who take heart! When good men find their courage the wicked flee! For who can stand against..."
As Belchfast speaks, his chair begins to wobble, and shakes back and forth more and more until-
CRASH!
Belchfast goes tumbling to the floor with a clatter, sending the chair flying. He lies on his back for a moment, the wind knocked out of him.
"And... thus I demonstrate how even mighty tyrants shall fall under the weight of their misdeeds. Ow."
He continues to lie on the floor. But he holds his tankard up in the air. "I'll... get up in a moment. In the meantime, could someone give me a refill?"
As you all begin to speak of bandits and even more so about someone uniting them, Svetlana’s eyes begin to well up with tears but she turned her head away from the group to wipe them away. Visibly angry, Oleg shakes his head; “It started three months ago... a group of what I thought were hunters came in. We fed them, showed them the hospitality that we offer for those who are of this area, we even traded with them... lousy idea that was, it only showed them what we had.”
Oleg grabs hold of his wrist, rubbing it. “There were about a dozen all together, but two stood out as those in charge. One was a mad woman who was ready to use her axes. The other was a man, he was collected. He was taking everything in. Thats when they attacked. A handful of the guys tackled me and forced me on this table, holding me down.”
“The woman ordered her men to put my wife on the table... she said that these were their lands and that they would be collecting ‘taxes.’ Thats when she took out one of her axes... told me that if we didn’t pay up each time they came that they would take our child, no matter if she had delivered or not... I fought against her men, but it was no use. I was only able to get one punch in, I don’t know what I was thinking. The woman then ordered the men to hold down my arm. She said for striking one of her men that she was going to take my hand. Thanks to Svets fast thinking she told her I couldn’t do work without it and this place would close, and for her to take her wedding ring instead... its all we had and they took it.”
Oleg takes a deep breath in and exhales. The man before you is at the end of all he has. He is trying to make things work, protect his wife, and just learned the help they were seeking still hadn’t arrived. “Each time they come they help themselves to anything and everything in our store room leaving us just enough to get by and continue our buisness... Each time they came there were less and less of them, and thankfully that mad woman never came back. The other man in charge has been here each time.”
“They should be coming anymorning now. It’s always within the first few days of the month at first dawn. I wouldn’t be surprised if they came tomorrow...” Oleg gets quiet, stairs at his hand while he continues to rub it.
With a smile on her face, and a shake of her head Svetlana gets up and moves over to the toppled dwarf. “Come on hun, it’s too early to be getting drunk. I will get you some water, it seems that you could use it..” She fills his tankard full of water.
Looking around the table, Oleg continues; “Look, you seem like fine folk. But you do not have to get caught up in this. This right here.” He motions to his Trading Post. “is all we have. We can’t to back to the city. We sold everything to be out here. But... if you did help us, we would forever be in your debt.”
“Who would like some more stew?” She stands up and fills the bowls of those who want more. Svetlana acts almost in denial of the story that Oleg just shared. Not that it wasn’t true, but as a person trying to block it out by forcing a new normal.
"The carrier of this charter should strive against banditry and other unlawful behavior to be encountered. The punishment for unrepentant banditry remains, as always, execution by sword or rope." So declared the Swordlord's Charter that the five had pored over not one hour ago. And hearing Oleg recount his and Svetlana's experiences with the local outlaws, Sigra had no qualms following the law to the letter: the bandits were going to die.
The Voice snickered underneath her scalp, clearly enjoying her outrage at the threats of mutilations and very late-term abortions.
Good. I like this, Sigga. I like this anger. Use it. Use it to kill them all.
She joined Svetlana in hooking an arm under Belchfast to right the dwarf; this was something all five of them needed to discuss together. That being their plan of attack, of course. Despite Oleg's hesitation, not aiding the couple wasn't even an option in Sigra's mind. So much so that she didn't even bother answering the man; she'd made her stance clear earlier. Instead she looked to the others and just asked:
"Ambush?"
How the party was going to approach the kill was all she wanted to know right now. Still, she wondered about her new companions. They didn't really know each and had never fought together. So hoped that Lordar didn't consider deception beneath him somehow. She had heard paladins could be a bit odd like that. And the dwarf, well... She was sure his inclusion on this mission was no accident. Hopefully.
Bertrand listens quietly through the whole explanation. He can't keep his head from shaking, angry at the obnoxiousness of the bandits, just a different word for the bullies that he'd always struggled against. That these would threaten an unborn child just made it so much worse. These weren't men. They were animals that needed to be put down!
"I'm sure that we all agree that there is no debt. We'll help. We'll stop the next group that comes, tomorrow or the next day. Then we'll see about tracking them back to their lair and finishing the group! Threatening a pregnant woman is an act that no non-rabid animal would consider. They should be treated as no less than that."
He pauses a moment to consider how they should handle the bandits and hears Sigga's word. "Yes. We should set up an ambush against them. Svetlana should stay inside, safe, but you Oleg will need to greet them. Use whatever tone they'd expect, angry but submissive? It'll make them feel safe. Do you normally have stores out where they can see or do they enter your storage? If the latter a couple of us could be in the storage area waiting for them to enter. You would lead them in and we attack as they enter."
"As the attack starts at the storage building the others of us step out from the other buildings and attack with missile, swords and magic. We'll likely drop a couple of them immediately and the others won't last but a few seconds after."
Lordar sighed, roughly a dozen of bandits, surely, not a piece of cake.
If they send five or six to 'collect taxes', things would be right, but they needed at least one bandit alive to interrogate and find the bandits' lair.
And he sighed again when he considered an ambush.
But, damn... they were bandits who were menacing helpless people.
I... understand. Everybody knows what's the punishment for banditry.
But we need to keep at least one of them alive to interrogate, if it's possible.
So, Halden and Bertram could take possitions to shoot them, but I'm not sure about letting them go into a building, because they could close the doors and resist... I'll try to engage them in close combat, with Sigra... and our dwarf mate
Oleg is nodding his head with a smirk, clearly eager with the possibility to get rid of his bandit pest. “Yes, an ambush. That would be perfect! We put the goods in the cart over there,” pointing to the empty cart near the entry way “and as long as it looks like enough then they don’t question it. If it has been a slow month, then they go picking through what we have in our home.”
“When they came the first time, there was about a dozen men. Each time they have returned they bring with them. The final time they came with the man who was in charge and four others. They ride in on horses and have a few extra to take the goods along with them.” The worry that was weighing down Oleg seems to be lifted off as you all discuss the plans.
Standing up to move next to Oleg, Svetlana puts a hand on his shoulder and runs a hand across her pregnant belly and says; “Because you are doing this for us, we will allow you to stay here for as long as you need. Morning and evening meals will be provided.” Pointing to the building to the right of the entry way then motioning to the stables to the left of the entry way, “We only have four beds in the bunk house, but there is a loft at the end of the stables that have room for a few bed rolls.” Oleg nodding in approval to what Svetlana is offering, leans over and kisses her hand.
Bertrand smiles as he scans the area. "Haldran and I could take positions on the walk on either side of the gate. We'll stay low and hidden until the action starts, and we'll have high ground to fire down on the bandits. If the cart has several bags, barrels or whatever it'll look like a good haul. Again, make the bandits feel like things are going right according to plan. Lordar, Sigga and the Brother can be ready in the stables waiting for a signal. Oleg, pick a phrase that you could say that wouldn't alert them. Maybe you could call out as if you wanted something from your wife, in your house? That way they'd all glance toward the house and we could attack from our vantage points from surprise. Of course Svetlana will be hiding and safe, and remember Oleg that you need to get out of the way so none of those vermin get any ideas about grabbing you as a human shield."
The sudden introduction of Brother Belchfast startles Halden. He had completely forgotten about the sleeping dwarf. He was going to need to start paying more attention to his surroundings. When Belchfast falls off the table, Halden shakes his head. The team needs warriors, not jesters. Still, the dwarf must have some skills if he was picked to be on the expedition. Halden wondered just what he could do.
Halden feels a little sick when Oleg reveals the truth about his family's trouble with the bandits. He had done some things he wasn't exactly proud of, but he'd never stooped as low as threatening the child of a pregnant woman. Was he really as bad as these bandits? No, of course not. He had left that last bandit group because he wasn't willing to be such a monster. He had helped the people they kidnapped because nobody deserves such a fate. And now, he would help the Levetons, if only to prove to himself that he is a better man than the brigands he hunts.
Halden listens to Bertrand's plan and nods with approval. He is pleased that his companions seem to have some tactical knowledge. Maybe they are not so naive after all. "An ambush is definitely our best option. It sounds like the bandits are getting cocky. We can take them out before they ever know what hit them. And Lordar is right that we should keep one alive for questioning. Tracking down their hideout will be easier if we can get one of them to talk."
““Come on hun, it’s too early to be getting drunk. I will get you some water, it seems that you could use it.” She fills his tankard full of water.
"Water! Don't you know that fish fornicate in that stuff?" Belchfast shouts in outrage, though he accepts the water grudgingly.
...Instead she looked to the others and just asked:
"Ambush?"
"WHERE?!" Belchfast spins around, looking at the door, and then frantically goes for his rapier which he realizes he has left on the floor. He scrabbles for a moment and grabs his rapier, jumping to his feet again, his rapier pointed en garde at the door.
Which does not open.
After a moment, he looks around. "Oh, right. We do the ambushing. Yes, that could work." He sits back down. "They say 'Fortune Favors the Bold,' do they not? We strike suddenly and fearlessly and they will fold up like an envelope."
"I think one of us should come from the other side, though. After all, we leave Oleg and Svetlana defenseless if there is no one there to interpose themselves between our dear hosts and these bandits."
"Water! Don't you know that fish fornicate in that stuff?" Belchfast shouts in outrage, though he accepts the water grudgingly
After Brother Belchfast calmed down, Lordar told him Water washes mind and spirit, Brother. But you won't be alone, I'll drink with you., offering the jar so that Svetlana could serve him too.
Then, so we agree... Oleg, please, show us your trade post.
And talking about rest, I can sleep in the stable if noone else wants to
"Ambush?""WHERE?!"
Given how sparingly she spoke, Sigra had on one occasion been accused of treating every syllable uttered as if they were teeth pulled from her mouth. With this in mind the following might not mean much, but the mercenary was at a loss for word with Belchfast. She had never worked with anyone like him before and if she had trouble speaking with others, she had no idea what to say to the pious dwarf, opting instead for merely looking apologetic at the misunderstanding. It had been her fault, after all.
Of course, inside her head the Voice was furious at her passivity in front of the dwarf, but Sigra bit the inside of her cheek and the pain drowned it out for now, enough for her to focus on Bertrand's battle plan. She nodded her assent to the strategy, despite being slightly uncomfortable with the ambush taking place within the trading post. Perhaps it was the fatalist in her, but Sigra was considering the fallout should they fail. If the party died here, then the consequences for the Levetons would be terrible. Better for the bandits to never assume any connection between the group and the trading post.
Then again, attacking the outlaws in the wilderness was far more risky. And everyone else had already agreed to the plan. Failure wasn't an option then.
"Thank you, sir, ma'am," Sigra said to the Levetons at their offer of room and board. Having a stable base of operations would certainly make the party's exploration of the Greenbelt much more manageable.
As per Lordar’s request, Oleg gives everyone a quick tour of the trading post. “This will help you with the plan of attack.” Starting at the entry gate and going clock wise.
Just left of the entry is one of the access points to the palisades walkway. Next is a six stalled stable with a loft at one end. The next shelter is a fenced in area with a wooden room. This is a storage pen that is full of the Leveton’s goods. Behind the storage pens are three three foot deep composting pits and middens. The smell in this area is a bit overwhelming. The next shelter is Oleg’s and Svetlana’s house and office. The next area is where you all were sitting at the tables next to the fire. Directly behind the tables is the only other access point to the walkway around the trading post. The last shelter here is the bunk house. There are four beds within with a storage trunk at the foot of each bed. There is a key in each lock marking them as unused.
Gathering back at the table; “There she is, not all that much but she’s a work in progress.”
“You have enough time to plan tonight incase they come in the morning, if there is anything you need from me its yours.”
Once they'd seen the area around the post, Bertrand moves up on the walkway to pick a spot with a good view of the wagon. "I want to be sure I have a good view of the targets...."
Once he is satisfied he moves to the bunk house. "Probably should post guards on the walkway over night, just in case they decide to come during dark hours. Wake me for last watch so I can ready a different spell."
That's a good idea, Bertrand. If you want, we can move the chart, o some barrels to give you more advantage. Oleg, have you any animal trap? I don't know how to use them, but Halden and you could prepare it in some places, if all in the group agree
Halden looks for a spot on the raised walkway where he and Bertrand could easily hide from the bandits. If there are no such spots, then he will help move some crates or barrels up to the walkway in order to provide cover.
Oleg, have you any animal trap? I don't know how to use them, but Halden and you could prepare it in some places, if all in the group agree
"That is a good idea Lordar, but if we leave bear traps lying out in the open, the bandits may notice that something is wrong. We would need a way to conceal the traps. Perhaps some straw would do."
Once all of the preparations are completed, Halden will take the loft room. He is more used to sleeping in a bedroll anyways. He goes to sleep, confident that the group is ready to face the bandits.
The party has the remainder of the day to prep anything they would like to. If you are ready to continue go ahead and give my a stealth/dex check and a perception/wisdom check.
The evening goes by and the only issues people may have is trying to get some sleep in these lumpy beds and trying to calm down their minds from playing out how this ambush could go down. Climbing out of the beds you are quickly welcomed by the brisk morning air. Taking a deep breath in and exhaling, you are able to see your breath.
Walking outside you are greeted by Svetlana tending to food over the fire, and Oleg bringing out goods to the cart. Those who need to walk to the fire to warm up a bit.
“Good morning! I pray you all slept better than I did. Between the baby kicking and my dreams running wild I did not get much sleep. I hope everyone is ok with leftover stew and bread, we try to eat what is made before making more. Please take a seat.” Svetlana scoops bowls of day old stew for those who would like some.
“Today could be the day. If they were to come it should be within the hour. Once you are finished you should get into position. I will be here tending to the fire when they come, its what I would normally be doing on a cool day... but I need to finish moving some goods to the cart first. If you’d like to help come on over and help carry these furs.” Oleg continues moving the goods.
Halden and Bertrand thankfully hear what sounds like people approaching. Riding in through the gates he sees five men coming through with a few dogs following them with one extra horse tied to the trailing man, it is loaded down with saddlebags and rope.
The leading man is wearing a green cloak that is pulled tight, looking around he hops down from his horse. Seeing that it is only Oleg around he moves around the goods in the cart with one hand then looks towards Oleg; “This will do Oleg, but next time there better be more.” he walks up to Oleg but hollers at his men; “Load the stuff up boys then lets get out of here. So Oleg where is that pretty wife of yours? She’s always pleasing to the eyes. And I am sure she is very warm on a cold morning like today.” pushing past Oleg and nodding towards the house, “Is she still in bed, all warm and cozy... ha,ha,ha” The man laughs but moves towards the warming food and scoops out a bowl to eat.
At this point the mens horses are near the cart with four of them loading them up. Their dogs are roaming around sniffing the cart, buildings, benches, etc. The last man is standing by Oleg next to the fire. I’ll leave this as an opportunity for the party to do something if they would like to, yet.
Damn it, they have dogs. They'll be able to smell us if we don't act soon. It's now or never...
Halden shouts "Now!", and fires his longbow at the bandit standing closest to Oleg.
Bertrand helps Oleg move anything needed to the wagon. Physical labor helps keep a person warm on a chilly morning. He gets up on the walkway to watch/listen before dawn. Once the sounds of the group approaching is heard he quietly casts Mage Armor on himself, then waits for Oleg's signal.
Cursing quietly Bertrand accepts that no plan ever survives past the first couple of seconds of actual combat. He rises with his crossbow and adds his yell to Halden's, "Die thieves!"
(additional +1 to both if within 30')
Lordar was aware to the sounds out of his hiding place.
When he listen to the shouts of his comrades, he jumped out and charged through the yard, before the bandits had enough time to rally.
For the gods! For the justice! For Abadar!
He engaged his nearest foe, trusting his mates would support him.
"Lordar."
When the motley crew now inhabiting Oleg's Trading Post were just about ready to settle in for the night, Sigra approached the paladin. She had a plea for him.
"Could we swap bunks?" she asked, flatly.
Lordar the Honest had claimed the loft in the stables as his sleeping quarters earlier, leaving the mercenary to bed in the bunk house along with the other three members of the party. This did not suit her. Not because she was so haughty as to require her own chambers, nor because she was uncomfortable being the sole woman in a bedroom of men. No, Sigra was afraid that if they lived together so closely, the party would discover the extent of her mental condition. She had a nasty habit of vivid dreaming and talking to herself that would make the current living arrangements very awkward indeed.
Of course, despite this being a pressing concern for her, Sigra strove to maintain a stoic face even in making her request. She didn't want Lordar to catch on to anything either, but was rather desperate for the loft.
"T-there's nothing wrong with the bed," she added, a bit too hastily. "I just... I need my space."
Sigra hoped that the paladin just assumed that she was unwilling to sleep alongside three men.
----------
Kill them, Sigga. Go on, go out there. Kill them. Kill them all. *SNARL* Kill them...
The Voice was thundering through her temples, a mixture of barely coherent words and animalistic growls and hisses. She leaned against the stable wall; her heart was galloping and she was already breathing heavy. The Voice's blood-lust had really hit her hard this time. Outside the stables the bandits were gathered and it was all she could manage to not leap out at them immediately. Sigra steeled herself, determined to wait for the signal no matter what the Voice demanded. Adrenalin high as she was, she managed to look to Belchfast to see if the dwarf was ready, forgetting for a moment that she must appeare a mess herself.
Halden shouts "Now!"
And just like that it was on.
KILL!
Sigra obeyed.