Dot and Delete!
"It began in the winter of 4710. The bandits came from the south. They came out of the Narlmarch, demanded tribute of us, and stole the wedding ring Grandfather Oleg had given me." Svetlana rocked in her chair. "We'd left Restov at Oleg's request, but I'd learned how to be a frontier wife. Still, with the bandits coming each month, there seemed to be little hope. Spring was on the horizon, the grass on the hills started to poke through the snow, and the bandits' selected day in Pharast grew nearer."
"What happened?!" One of the little girls squeaked from the back of the carpet.
"A group of adventurers happened. From Restov they came..."
= = = = = = = = = =
The spring sun breaks through a chilly morning cloud-cover as the six charter-bearers approach their assigned starting point - Oleg's Trading Post. Four days out of Restov, the last bit with no civilization save the South Rostland Road, which proved to be a dirt track big enough for one wagon. A handful of farmers and a woman dressed in furs and hides, lugging a huge elk, are all that they've seen on the road.
The trading post doesn't look to be much more impressive than the dirt track winding through the hills, either. An old fort from days long gone, a row of logs, sharpened stockade-style, make the walls. Its gate hangs wide open, giving the impression that its yard is empty, but a thin line of smoke signals a potential late breakfast - or perhaps a warm lunch.
Mounted on Azalea, Faerin smiles to herself at the sight of the old fort. Oleg's Trading Post was very much what she expected, and the thin trail of smoke called out like a welcome banner.
”Well, looks like we’re here girl.” she says softly, leaning forward to pat the light red roan horse’s withers. She’d ridden quite a way to get here, following the pull of adventure and exploration, collecting new interesting herbs and plants as she did. The time spent traveling was actually enjoyable, quiet. A part of her was rather curious to see what other types answered the call to explore the region most often referred to as the Stolen Lands.
Resting her hand on the pouch in her saddlebags that held the Charter letter, she guides Azalea forward with a click of her tongue and a shift of her weight, heading for the wide open gate.
It had been a long walk from Restov along the southern border road.
Though the sun was shining the winter so far in the north was cold and snowy and Lorien was glad for her warm wool cloak, trimmed with rabbit fur and her sturdy walking boots. And the armour over her gambeson kept her a bit warmer. Sometimes uncomfortably, but these woods were unsafe. Indeed, weren´t they called because the owner of a frontier haberdashery named Oleg and his wife had reported being attacked by bandits. At least she was with companions and while no one seemed like a good fighter they had all the feeling of power about them, that made bandits think twice before attacking them. And while she was rather sure her morning prayers had not been the reason for the safe travels she quickly added another one under her breath.
Finally seeing their destination she let out a sigh of relieve. ”We are close, finally. I guess a warm meal is finally close. And maybe a hot bad and a warm bed for a change.“
Caerwyn breathes a sigh of relief as the trading post comes into view. It had been over a weeks travel from Restov and in that time they had encountered little more than a few merchants traveling to sell their wares or the occasional trapper trying to eke out a living here in the wilderness. if there were bandits in the area they weren't brazen enough to attack a group of armed travelers.
The South Rostland "Road" was little more than a ribbon of mud this time of year. Mud which constantly tried to suck the boots off his feet, making each step forward more difficult than the last. Now, with their destination in sight, Caerwyn's pace seem to quicken of it's own accord. "Finally" he thinks to himself "Four stout walls and a roof overhead that will keep out this cold "spring" wind and a hot meal which someone hasn't burnt past death on a campfire."
Caerwyn smiles as two of his companions say out loud what he had been thinking. He turns his smile to Lorien "I could go for any one of those things right about now."
Wilster sneezes as the sun peeks out from the clouds. His coat, deliberately covered in colorful patches, is kept tight against his tiny halfling body, cursed by the high surface-to-volume ratio with losing heat quickly. Still, despite the chill in his bones, his voice is cheerful and enthusiastic.
"Ah, what better omen than the sun shining through the morning? We've reached the destination that will be our start, and in doing so, the beginning has ended. This is a fertile land, and we will thrive! Although I'll join the chorus of those yearning for a warm fire, my coat's got damp."
Silviea rode along with the others on Moonlight, her trusty horse. While the journey took several days she enjoyed the outdoors and the crisp air of Pharast. It was also fast approaching the fated moon, and she always found the full moon to be enticing. As she approached old fort she smiled when the halfling spoke about a new start, which also entailed an ending. His words held more weight than even he could know for Silviea. She hoped that this would indeed be a fresh start.
"Well, let us introduce ourselves to the owners then."
Volundr, who had trailed behind his companions caught up to Wilster as the hirsute hafling stopped to admire the sunrise. “Omen?”
The young man looks toward the northern horizon. “Oh. I see. Very astute Master Maddas. A sunrise breaking the horizon before full occlusion of the planet Akiton.”
He continues walking toward the fort, now speaking more to himself than Wilster ”This close to the spring equinox...I would need to confirm any Osirion astrological indicators with Varisian tassesographic and ossomancy readings.”
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Caerwyn chuckles at Völundr's observations "To paraphrase an old Ustalavan professor I heard about "Sometime's a sunrise is just a sunrise". Relax and enjoy it"
"You can call me Wilster, O Scholarly One. And I don't see fancy astrology behind it, just a hint of luck. My teacher used to say that if you don't get good fortune you just make it, so I say this pretty sunrise means good things for us, and if not so we'll make it mean'em. Let me show, heads or tails?" Wilster asks the wizard, producing a small object out of a pocket and trapping it between the back of his left hand and the palm of the right one.
Wilster hasn't taken a coin, but a button.
Völundr gives a small polite smile to Caerwyn, then looks out toward the sunrise “Wise advice Master Callandriil, ... Ei vali aistorarol os cysti”
He turns his attention back to Wilster "Tails"
"You say tails, I say four holes! See?"
The halfling opens his hand to show a black button, of the sort that would go on an overcoat. "Make your luck when you can, trust fate when you can't, and things will go your way."
Unconcerned with whether that made sense or not, Wilster flashes a big smile to the wizard.
Lorien listens at Wilsters exchange with Völundr and can´t help but smile.
"Well in any case, the journey was never boring."
Taking a deep breath she moves faster toward the fort, mentally cointing her meager coins.
Smiling over her shoulder at the banter of the others, she notes the budding camaraderie forged on the road. The all seemed decent folk when she ran into them halfway on the way here.
They would need that here on the frontier, forging a path into lands ruled by the creatures of the wilds, and bandits.
Moving toward Faerin Lorien smiles the younf half-elf.
"Well, what do you think about our companions. You seem to be our outdoor expert?"
"Hmm? I suppose I am." Faerin says with a quiet smile, once again glancing over her shoulder.
"I think we've definitely got an interesting bunch. There seems to be a contest between Völundr and Wister to see who can fill more silence." she says wryly. "Silviea seems to be the exact opposite, but she seems pretty at ease in the wild, and I can tell another healer when I see one."
"If I had to describe Caerwyn in one word it would probably be dangerous, not.sure why but, he sort of has a predator's energy....not that that's necessarily a bad thing out here." the auburn haired half elf offers with a smile.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Silviea rolls her eyes from the rear of the group as Wilster and Volunder go on. When she hears Faerin mention her name and the fact that she is a healer as well she nods to the half-elf to acknowledge what she says is true. "Well, at the very least between the lot of us we've managed to get this far so I would say that is at least a good sign."
“The Sword Lord Abraxi shared a similar philosophy in his second treatise on war. If one were to boil down his central thesis and synthesize it into a single quote it could be ‘Fortune favors the bold,” He then gestures toward the button ”and the bold rely on deception.' So scholarly or not, I can safely say your philosophy leaves you in good intellectual company Wilster.”
Pitching his voice so that he can interject in the ladies’ conversation the tall wizard says” On the contrary Mistress Cordova, I prefer to keep to myself. Nonetheless, considering the nature of our venture I felt it prudent to discern the temperament and character of my compatriots. Interaction beyond the perfunctory was merited.”
The wizard takes a moment to shift the cluster of [lilacs] attached to the end of his staff to his shoulder. During the shifting the bud of a large [dragon rose], which must have been buried in the lilacs, goes into full bloom. ”Speaking of our venture - has anyone noticed the lack of real traffic? In the Gronzi Forest, when there is a decline in the deer population there is a corresponding decline in the wolf population. Either our charter over estimates the bandit threat or there is something unusual about this group of outlaws. I’m curious about how they sustain themselves with almost no-one to prey upon.”
Looking back over her shoulder, Faerin acknowledges Silviea's response with a smile. As Völundr chimes in with an objection that ironically confirms her initial comment more than anything, she flashes Lorien a grin as if to say "see what I mean?"
The blossoms on the...floral stole pm the wizard's shoulder definitely catches her attention though. It was clearly alive, an interesting micro-environment that seemed to change regularly.
Moving forward Flaith walks toward the fort and ties dawn, her mule, to the post before stretching a bit and straightening her clothes, waiting for the others.
Taking a moment to take a breath she nods.
"Ready for the next step of our journey?"
"As ready as can be," Faerin replies, dismounting and leading Azalea to the hitching post. "Should be interesting."
Volundr walks into the old fort while the others tend their beasts and finish conversations.