"I've never been great with crowds - and this doesn't seem like Oleg's style, either? Our predecessors certainly seem to have thrown things out of balance."
They just might work for our predecessors. Let us play our part and see what we may learn. I agree that combat is the last thing we need but if push comes to shove...be careful and do not hold back. We will give quarter if it is warranted.
Our avian friends will be soon return with what I hope is some favorable information.
Your avian scouts discover that there are far fewer people inside the trading post than outside. There is one man on a roof, and a woman in the yard; Vera infers that these are the Levetons, Oleg and Svetlana, the couple who run the trading post. The watchtowers and the walkways lining the palisade are empty.
The birds also do not see any of the "shiny, sharp things" on the crowd gathered around the trading post, which you take to mean that they are not armed. Based upon this aerial reconnaissance, and your own continued observation, you come to suspect that rather than being bandits or outlaws, these are merely vagrants and vagabonds. Of course, this detail itself does present a complication.
Bydar raised a brow at mention of these vagabonds being up to no good perhaps... but then nodded. He is not as world wise as some of his companions and knows it and takes their lead in this.
Peering closer at the assembled crowd, Brandt spots something and motions to Christian, pointing out the three men trying to sneak into the gate.
"This may be more complex than we expected," Brandt shrugs walking the horses forward. "Let's see if we can't dissuade this and calm the situation."
Looking toward the massive wolfhound, Brandt gives a sharp command,
Fenrir barks loudly, clear enough to be heard for a distance off, attempting to draw attention to the party of travelers.
"Always better to announce yourself, presence keeps the rats from your food." Brandt grins. "Now we can see what these are all about.
Easing only slightly at the lack of apparent "sharp shinies", Vera agrees with Brand. "whatever this is, we might as well get any confrontation over with."
unemployed bandits aren't much better than regular bandits - possibly worse, if nobody's setting strategic direction. ....or are these folk coming out of Brevoy? Regardless, it's trouble; the stolen lands don't give folk time to loiter around if they're to care for themselves and their kin.
Fenrir's barking startles much of the crowd surrounding Oleg's Trading Post. Combined with the approach of your party, it also stops the three men in their tracks, sending them milling about elsewhere rather than plying their mischief.
As you draw closer, though, the rest are only emboldened and begin thronging you to hawk their wares. They offer moonshine, shoe shines, scrimshawed bones, whittled figurines, and a number of dubious trinkets they claim to have been recovered from barbarian cairns. Others invite you to a game of knucklesbones, challenging you to try your luck and relax after a long journey.
The raucous sound of the squatters accosting you reaches within the walls of the trading post, drawing Oleg Leveton down from the roof he was repairing. He steps out of the gates, brandishing a hammer in one hand and cudgel in the other, and begins shouting at the rabble.
"Hey! Go on, get! Leave my customers alone, you bums!" he bellows. He shakes his tools threateningly, the gesticulations setting his fiery sideburns quivering like a lion's mane.
The squatters scatter, although they do not stray too far from the trading post's walls - merely out of reach of the keeper's wrath. Oleg turns his eyes back upon you, but as he discovers that you are clearly a cut apart from the hunters and trappers that normally frequent his business, he sets his broad jaw in a firm, stern countenance.
"Miss Ravenholdt," he greets Vera with a curt nod. "Who are these new companions? What business brings them by?"
Brushing aside the squatters as they surround his horses, Brandt looks at Oleg, and seems impressed about how quickly the squatters fled before Oleg's threats.
"I'm Brandt, son of Oluff the Tall, are these people here often? Is this what life's like around these parts for those unlucky enough not to have a home?"
Brandt indicates the crowd retreating from the assembly with a broad wave of his hand. If this is the way of things, we may have poured more ale than we can drink...
Fenrir seems overly pleased with himself and trots alongside Brandt as they enter Oleg's Trading Post.
Christian keeps the men and when that have decided to make the outside of Oleg's Outpost their own at a distance and does not let them get close enough to steal anything.
I am Christian and Good day to you Master Oleg..It has been a long time since I last have been this way. Perhaps we can enter and resupply? Maybe we can talk freely over some of your wife's excellent stew.
"Bydar of Shelyn, a pleasure, sir" The cleric says, "Blessings on you and your house"
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At the sight of Oleg approaching, Mr. Pink edges closer to Vera. He has suddenly become more keenly aware that his ragged appearance likely doesn't set him very far above those gathered around the trading post in squalor. He does not speak in an effort to mask his nervously overflowing thoughts.
"We should not have come here. Too many eyes unshut. Too many hands that take from hands that build. Here is not safe for secrets. Be these supplicants or spies? Too early to spill our purpose, to proud Oleg perhaps? A traitor's tool or a fast friend? Unknown. We must know."
Oleg purses his lips and nods slightly, appraising your introductions.
"This, he says, gesturing with his hammer towards the rabble lurking near a distant corner of the trading post, "Is a new development. When the local bandits were put to the sword and rope, I thought that'd be the end of my troubles. Then all these layabouts started showing up."
He snorts derisively, his glaring eyes still aimed at the squatters. When he returns his attention to you, he invites you inside with a nod of his head.
"Just because I didn't care about their stories certainly didn't keep them from sharing," he glowers. "Mivon, Pitax, Galt, and of course good ol' Rostland have offered up their deserters, vagabonds, cutpurses, lackwits, and other bums. They harass every man what comes to trade their hides and pelts, and I catch enough of them trying to steal from my storehouse. I had to buy a padlock and some chain to keep it sealed.
"If that lordling, Garess, and his men would bother to do their jobs and keep guard, maybe these bums wouldn't be a problem, but instead they're more concerned with gallivanting through the region, hunting down those other adventurers."
Brandt shrugs at Oleg's words; but seemingly with thought behind his eyes. Saddens me, perhaps these people just need direction, perhaps a job for Lord Christian to take upon himself.
Alas Goodman Oleg, we're famished and I hear your wife makes an excellent stew. We could use space to rest our heads this night and resupply our horses, is this something you can offer? We'll pay in coin or labor as you desire. I'd be rather interested in a pint of something with these noble companions here. " Brandt grins at the last, his eyes dancing in the evening light.
"Fenrir here can do a very nice job of keeping rascals from your belongings in the night, he's very attentive when he chooses to be. have you seen much of the lordling Garess? Is he some nobleman running amok trying to lay justice or a fair man?" Brandt says, tousling the dogs furry head.
Vera finally snaps her attention from the crowd outside to the conversation at hand. "I'm sorry, where are my manners?! I'm not used to traveling with companions, and it shows. Oleg, it seems we have much to discuss - perhaps away from-" she nods her head at the vagabonds lurking in her peripheral vision.
She indicates those who haven't spoken, "This is Mr. Pink and Orlog, Mr. Black is winging above with Sava. Is there anything we can help you with before we settle in?"
Bydar raises a brow, "Stories you say? mmm." A thought Later I should go talk to them. Troubled brows sometimes just want an open ear and an open heart But he follows the others.
"Garess... Garess..." Orlog repeats the name, trying to jog his memory. "The name sounds familiar... Bah! it might come to me after a good meal." Turning to address Oleg more directly. "Everyone is talking about a wonderful stew that is served here, mind if we move inside to have a taste?"
Waiting until Oleg is out of earshot Brandt looks to the companions, "After supper should we approach these vagabonds outside and see what their issues are. It sounds like they are fleeing desperate times in other lands and may be craving an opportunity to do the right thing. Share a fire with them, perhaps hoist a pint, and listen?"
"I'd like to hear what Oleg has to say first about what's been happening here and what the others who came before us did in the region. Might give us a clue as to what we're walking into?" Brandt shrugs at the last suggestion.
"What do you all think?"
Christian keeps his eyes on the unwelcome crowd as they ride inside the outpost. He keeps one hand close to the long weapon beside him and his head watches the group as a whole with a neutral demeanor.
Once inside and away from unwanted attention, he speaks with a knowing tone to his voice.
Power vacuum...it is unfortunate but not unexpected
He shakes his head slightly with a slight sadness to his visage.
This Stag lord was an evil man...but a stabilizing factor and when he was removed from his "throne", it created a power vacuum. With no one able to reclaim control of that factor...the stability that was granted by this evil man was lost. The people are not sure were to go and so they fall back to what they think is easiest for them. They beg as they feel they have no other option and some will even try their luck at banditry. I do not agree with the direction this stag lord went but when he was here he gave them direction...misguided as it may be and wrongful...but he did give them a purpose of sorts.
He looks back over his shoulder at the crowd outside.
Perhaps after we meet with Oleg and relax some...we could go and talk with those that are lost, to see what information we can gather from them. We may even get some information on our predecessors? Maybe even be able to give them a correct purpose again....some sort of direction to better their lives. A second chance. We can only try...
"like rabbits deprived of the fox," agrees Vera. "...not that we intend to eat anyone, but if the void left by the Stag Lord is propagating out as further suffering, perhaps beginning to advertise our presence would start in motion setting relations back to right - offer at least the promise of future stabilization?"
"Aye, now that the Stag Lord's good and buried, all these layabouts think I'm suddenly rich as a prince," Oleg snorts. "They actually believe that Rostland pays me to run this post."
The trading post owner aims a glowering look into the dirt, ruminating upon the notion.
"Pay no attention to my husband's grumblings," a sweet voice calls from the stew pot suspended above the cook fire in the yard. Oleg's wife, Svetlana Leveton, stands there watching the meal simmer. Despite the smoke upon her face and the wilderness dust upon her apron, she maintains an air of kindness that counterbalances her gruff husband.
"Things have gotten much better with the bandits gone," she explains. "Those folks outside the wall - I think they just weren't prepared for how hard life in the Greenbelt can be, even without bandits on the prowl. It can be a struggle just to keep yourself fed."
"Greetings Goodwife, thank you for opening your hearth for us this night." Brandt begins with an awkward bow, his large frame struggling to find how to address Svetlana.
"It can be truly difficult to live without some form of order and society around you. In times like that, often the strong take charge; or the wise." Brandt says more to himself than anyone in particular.
"Master Oleg, can you tell us of these lands, and what has happened here? I know Brevoy sent explorers to pacify the lands, but something happened to them? Few tales reach us in Rostland, and we would beg for news of the lands to the south."
Oleg harrumphs.
"Lord Garess and his men just showed up with orders to arrest the Whitehollow brothers and their companions, but they'd already departed the day before. Didn't say why; I just assumed they were mapping out the region some more. I understood even less why they were suddenly wanted. They cleared out the bandits, the gremlins, the kobolds. Far as I'm concerned, they're heroes."
The trading post keeper focuses on spoonfuls of his wife's stew, offering little more than grumbling sounds. In his place, Svetlana continues the conversation.
"Unfortunately, there's not much news beyond the Whitehollow's departure and the arrival of those folks clinging like moss to our walls," she explains, ladling out stew into wooden bowls for each of you. "I suppose we are the only bit of civilization out here, so it's not much of a surprise that they'd flock here."
Oleg interrupts his wife with another derisive snort aimed at the word civilization. Svetlana shoots a fleeting glare at her husband before continuing, her welcoming demeanor instantly reasserting itself.
"The folks who've traveled north have carried rumors of this or that bit of nastiness lurking in the south. Sightings of trolls, lizardmen, swamp witches, and the like. Even heard one fellow going on and on about a dragon he saw."
Vera winks at Svetlana over Brandt's overly-formal greeting, before harumphing back at Oleg.
"Heroes, says you?! Burned my house to the ground they did, those Whitehollows. Least, somebody did while they were passing through: if it wasn't them directly, it was somebody they 'cleared out'."
She wrinkles her nose in distaste, "You don't think I went into Brevoy for the pleasure of it, do you? I had to register my outrage at their agents crashing about and making a mess of things out here! I expect 'heroes' to show a little courtesy to the locals, not act like baby bull elk drunk on their first pair of antlers. ...not sure yet that I'm thrilled with where my complaining has gotten me, but the short of it is that the Whitehollows, Garess, and the folk outside are all something of our problem to deal with now."
Suppressing a chuckle at Vera's words, Brandt gains a bit of understanding about the nature of Oleg's and of the people who frequent it, looking much more relaxed after Vera's verbal explosion.
"Truth is Oleg, we've been sent to pacify the lands south of here. Assist Garess as we can, bring the Whitehollows to justice, and begin an enterprise." Looking sheepish that he's said that much he looks to Bydar and Christian for help.
"We hope to build a fort to the south, and establish a trade route to your doorstep. Hopefully benefiting yourself and us in the process! " Brandt beams in conclusion as he hands Fenrir a bite of his bread crust from dinner.
Christian listens as he enjoys the stew. He remains quiet as the others talk of our purpose.
Lady Leveton, your culinary talents are a godsend to any traveler. Thank you kindly for the meal.
Taking a drink from his mug one last time before he stands to address the group as a whole. His eyes move from one person to the next as if he is seeking guidance on what he is about to say.
Tis true...Rostland, on behalf of the Dragonscale Throne, has issued a charter for the founding of a new nation south of its borders. The Whitehallows and thier associates where the original charter members. They were to tame the lands and set up a new nation that was funded by the Dragonscale throne. It came to light that the Whitehallows were in fact working with the Taldorian government to set up a nation that was loyal to them at the expense of the DragonScale throne. Hence the orders to arrest.
Christian pauses for a few moments before continuing.
We were summoned to do what they did not. We are heading south to break ground on a new nation. We will bring back stability to the region. It is my hope that those outside your gates will find hope reawakened in these uncertain times. That they will move on to better their lives through dedication and hard work. We aim to fill the void the Whitehallows created with thier actions...to mold that void into a prosperous nation.
He looks to Oleg.
Master Oleg, you have been a island in these troubled waters that we call the stolen lands. I have come to you on many occasions and you have always dealt fairly with me. I thank you and your wife for your generosity and hospitality. I hope that in the future we can help one another. Maybe even to rely on one another.
With his words said, Christian sits back down and waits to see how things progress.
I am not sure how bad I muddled things...we will see soon enough
Vera's rebuttal upon the Whitehollow brothers and their companions elicits a concerned, sympathetic look from Svetlana. Her husband remains mutely focused upon his stew.
"Well now, I certainly had no idea about such wicked deeds," Svetlana exclaims, nudging her husband with her elbow. "It certainly seems they were sitting on a wealth of secrets."
When Christian produces the charter, Oleg, slaps his spoon down on the table and snatches the document. He scans the inked words thoroughly before handing it back with another harrumph. Nevertheless, he listens carefully as Lord D'Elagante also explains their purpose in more compelling - and more relatable - terms.
Oleg picks up his spoon and stirs around some diced bits of onion before quietly conceding, "Sounds all right."
Svetlana adds with a smile, "I believe you've actually managed to win my Oleg over. That's about as enthusiastic as he gets."
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Mr. Pink eyes the bowl of stew laid out before him suspiciously. He pecks at it intermittently. However, now that Svetlana & Oleg appear more amiable to the group and their cause, he attempts to probe the pair for more information.
"Trading in untold tales teems with tantalizing treasures, truly..."
It seems that new friends have been chosen. Trusted knowledge has been shared. Time for new friends to share in return.
"Plainly, our purpose in pressing pursuit is pure. Which way went the wicked Whitehollows? Were any unwillingly waylaid by weeping wanderers? Could Sir Kesten catch his quarry with keen calculation? I intend our initial imposing improvements uninterrupted by ill-willed interlopers."
Bydar listens to all though he has been a touch distracted with thoughts of these poor people now directionless. He's not one for taking captive audiences, but they might find hope in Shelyn.
Svetlana adds with a smile, "I believe you've actually managed to win my Oleg over. That's about as enthusiastic as he gets."
A smile at that and as always he marvels at Mr. Pink's lyrical alterations.
To the couple he adds, "I am a cleric ,if any here you know need healing or the like, please let me know and I'll see if it's within the power my goddess has entrusted me with."
Oleg picks up his spoon and stirs around some diced bits of onion before quietly conceding, "Sounds all right."
Svetlana adds with a smile, "I believe you've actually managed to win my Oleg over. That's about as enthusiastic as he gets."
Calming as the others explain, Vera says ruefully -- "And well he should be cautious in his approval: you two have been here long enough to see how rarely the warlord-of-the-month works out for those of us just trying to make a life here.
"This lot seems to be decent so far, and I can offer you at least my own promise to follow right intention with right action--" smirking a little, she adds, "I trust you'll let me know, Oleg, if I fall off that path!"
She looks to Pink and Bydar, "Attending to those outside is likely worth our time; it sounds as though plenty awaits us on the trek south, and they can hopefully offer us some information on what to expect."
Happy that they were able to keep things cordial with Oleg as the truth was revealed, Christian agrees that it would be advantageous to talk with those outside. After dinner, he looks to the others with a slight smile.
shall we step outside and see what we are dealing with?
With those words said, the young lord steps outside to talk with the crowd that has made the outside of Oleg's outpost thier new home. He makes sure to keep them in front of him and not let them get to close.
these people have been through a lot. I need to not make myself a tempting target for theft or worse. I do not even know where or how to begins this one.
Good evening to you all. I see you have a wide range of items you are peddling. Might I ask what brought you here? Would not a larger town be more profitable for your business ventures?
He keeps his tone respectable and his posture neutral.
need to give them some dignity...not good to degrade someone who is already down.
"Agreed Christian, lets see what they are about. Maybe if they are ill either Bydar or Orlogg can assist them?"
Wandering through the crowd while Christian speaks to them, Brandt will listen to those not engaged with what Christian is saying, keeping his eyes about for the three shifty ones from earlier. Listening for languages not normally spoken in the area as well.
The beggars and peddlers watch you warily. In your presence, none of them seem apt to try anything sneaky. They stand awkwardly, casting glances among themselves, unsure who should speak up. Finally, a woman wearing a heavily mended green dress and foot wraps breaks the silence.
"What town?" she sneers, sarcastically gesturing to the empty, rolling plains that cradle the trading post. "Where would we go? Mivon or Pitax? Most of us would die before making it there, and anyone who did make it would probably be killed soon after. Some of us were already run out of Nivakta's Crossing, and the rest can't go back to Restov."
She looks to Pink and Bydar, "Attending to those outside is likely worth our time; it sounds as though plenty awaits us on the trek south, and they can hopefully offer us some information on what to expect."
"Agreed Christian, lets see what they are about. Maybe if they are ill either Bydar or Orlogg can assist them?"
"I quite agree. Every person has worth in my goddess' eyes, and if we should gain a bit of information as well, so much the better."
When they go out amid the crowd, Bydar frowns with concern at the green dressed woman's complaint.
"What town?" she sneers, sarcastically gesturing to the empty, rolling plains that cradle the trading post. "Where would we go? Mivon or Pitax? Most of us would die before making it there, and anyone who did make it would probably be killed soon after. Some of us were already run out of Nivakta's Crossing, and the rest can't go back to Restov."
As he moves through, he advises the others what he notices, and begins to tend, "Here, let me tend the wounds properly. You're at risk of infection." He says to one.
And will move onto those with limps, trying to make sure he can tell the difference between sprains.. or worse.
"It's a good thing we stopped by. Some of this could have brewed into worse. Hot meals and good shelter would be ideal. I find myself strongly wishing we DID have a town in our pocket we could just throw to the ground and make entire."
"My name is Bydar, I'm a cleric of the Eternal Rose. This is Orlagg of Torag, maybe we can help tend and ease what we can."
As he looks over those allowing him to, he says "Perhaps there is a chance to make a this part of the world a bit more welcome. There is always hope for a brighter dawn. Maybe you can help us. you seem to know the lay of the land, have surely heard of troubles and threats that we might be able to stand against if we're prepared? It would be a blessing."
Christian smiles slightly as the woman talks. Her point draws a reasuring nod from the young nobleman.
Madame, we are truly sorry for the hardships that you...that all of you have endured.
He looks around at all within the crowd when Bydar speaks up and the cleric starts to walk among them.
Good eye. I would have missed those wounds
First, let us heal your wounds and treat any other ailments that you might be suffering from. I will speak to Master Oleg about some food and clothing. After that we can discuss what you would like to do from here on out.
He pauses slightly.
that is if you want our help
He steps closer to the crowd.
I would very much like to hear about you trails and tribulations. I would also like to hear about your travels.
The squatters are very reluctant to let either Bydar or Orlog near, and they shy away as though your hands were knives. However, the Shelynite's words of promise and hope seem to bridge the gap. Soon enough, they are amenable to the healers' aid, rolling up sleeves and trouser legs to expose lacerations, rashes, and foully colored scabs. Any remaining naysayers or holdouts are quickly won over at last by Christian's offer to purchase essentials on their behalf.
Inside the trading post, Oleg scoffs at Christian's generosity.
"You'd go an throw away gold on those bums?" he sneers, washing the cookpot for his wife. "Perhaps ambitious isn't the word for you. Perhaps foolish is more fitting. Make no mistake, I'm more than happy to sell you anything you want," he quickly adds, extending a hand of reassurance so as to not lose a customer. "I just can't say I rightly understand it."
Svetlana steps out from the storage barn carrying a wash basin, and she pauses to cast an incredulous look at her husband.
"Has the frontier left callouses on more than your palms, Oleg?" she scolds him. "I remember a time back in Restov when scarcely a day passed without you dropping an entire silver into a beggar child's cup."
"That was different!" the trading post keeper exclaims defensively. "Those urchins were helpless, with no one else to count on."
"And are the folks outside any different? Who do they have to help them?" she asks pointedly, nodding her head to emphasize her point.
Her husband offers one more harrumph before conceding.
"From the shape of things, they've got these folks helping them now," he says, pointing a water-slick thumb towards Christian.
The squatters are very reluctant to let either Bydar or Orlog near, and they shy away as though your hands were knives. However, the Shelynite's words of promise and hope seem to bridge the gap. Soon enough, they are amenable to the healers' aid, rolling up sleeves and trouser legs to expose lacerations, rashes, and foully colored scabs. Any remaining naysayers or holdouts are quickly won over at last by Christian's offer to purchase essentials on their behalf.
Bydar stays outside to tend to the wounded as they become more willing to let him help. He does cast a glance at the door where Lord Christian went through, and a nod of approval.
He's a good man, Shelyn. Look after him. Natural leaders are rare, Good men who are also natural leaders? Rarer.
Then he talks to woman who first spoke up, the one with the green mended dress and the bold if sarcastic attitude, "Driven off you say? I am sorry to hear it, but I WILL hear it if you've a mind to talk of it, and the dangers you know in this land. Worse that can happen is that if you don't talk I chatter on about my goddess as priests are wont to do."
Christian smiles and chuckles lightly. He give Svetlana a nod and a wink of thanks for her aid.
Foolish...yes I can see that. Could I be waisting my coin on a lost cause...maybe...but if I am able to change just one life for the better...then that is a risk worth taking.
He shakes Oleg's hand in a show of respect for the man's words.
The young mercenary leader grabs up the supplies and walks outside. Stopping several feet away from the gathered crowd, his eyes scanning the group.
Shall we do this in a orderly fashion...please. Now one at a time, step forward. Take what you need and leave the what you do not.
He remains standing by the supplies in hope the his mere presence will be enough to keep the order.
Once all have taken what was needed, christian adresses them as a group.
You may call me Christian. You have already met Bydar and Orlagg. This is Vera, Brand Oluffson, and Mr.Pink. we wish to know what happened for you to end up here. Why were you run out of Nivakta's Crossing and why would you not be able to return to Restov. I wish you to speak truthfully, we will know otherwise. The more we know the better we are able to help you.
Vera follows Bydar and Orlog on their rounds, offering the occasional comment on the likely source of some rash, or offering a tincture or poultice for various complaints.
Primarily, though, she'll focus on listening to what the refugees have to say, and asking the occasional question to keep them talking, trying to get a feel for where rapid changes might be happening in the current power vacuum. ("Troll tracks along the river? How frightening! ...Was that the Skunk, or the Murque?")
Under the combined watch of Christian, Oleg, and Svetlana, none of the vagrants dares to take more than they need. Some replace boots that barely hold together with new ones, while others swap foot wraps for their first pair of actual shoes. Likewise, an assortment of new trousers, shirts, blouses, and other clothes are taken, along with hats to block out the naked sun and belts to hold up ill-fitting clothes. Blankets, bedrolls, brushes, shaving razors, and other sundry items are likewise requested.
The woman in the green dress, the one who initially served as spokesperson for the group of indigents, nervously points to a longbow in Oleg's stock, made from fresh yew.
"I've done a bit of hunting," she states. "I'd like to try my hand at it again, try and earn my way."
Oleg looks especially skeptical of buying such a weapon for one of these vagrants, but he turns to Christian to see if the noble cavalier is willing to go that far.
Meanwhile, the vagrants are eager to share their stories as the priests and Vera provide an impromptu clinic to treat their maladies. Their woes are not terribly remarkable. About half of them fled city-states in the River Kingdoms due to the unstable or heavy-handed rulers and powerful criminal elements. The few who fled Nivakta’s Crossing did so because of scandalous affairs, bitter feuds with neighbors, or being cast out by the sheriff due to petty crimes. As for those who left Rostland, once again they were fleeing petty charges or had their property seized due to unpaid taxes.
Although none of these folks have dared travel far enough to confirm, they believe that the trolls are worst south of the Murque - although wandering individuals or even gangs have been seen north of the Skunk. However, some of them suggest that the real danger is the lizardfolk lairing somewhere along the banks of the Candlemere - at least that’s what they’ve heard talking to local hunters passing through. A minor dispute breaks out as they argue whether the lizardfolk, the crazy hermit, or the swamp witch is the greatest threat found in the space between the Murque and Skunk Rivers.
Christian looks from the women to the weapon, to Oleg and then back to the women. His gaze is calm and gentle. It seems to last a long time but is only a moment or two.
...if I am wrong, it better be one hell of a shot.
...sure. If you are capable of hunting then you can also defend yourself...and others. If not we can teach you.
He turns and nods his approval to Oleg.
If you wish to learn, I think my friend Brand could teach you a thing or two about hunting. You would need to ask him though.
"Thank you, Vera, your remedies should help prevent infection quite handidly."
Christian looks at the crowd and smiles.
Is there anything else that anyone is in need of?...
The young man continues to stand and watch the group.
It would appear that we have something in common. A second chance...come tomorrow morning we will be departing for a place southwest of here. We aim to create a settlement there and there is a place for you...if you should want it. This is no easy task, you will be rebuilding your life from the ground up. We will expect hard work from each of you. If this is something you would want to see through the you can join us in the morning. If not, well you are free to go about your life. No expectations and you may keep the supplies.
If your rhetoric hadn't already struck a chord with these vagabond men and women, the unprecedented generosity bestowed upon them seals their friendship and begins a bond of loyalty. Despite the dangers in the south that they themselves just spoke of, a palpable excitement courses through them at the prospect of being given a chance. If nothing else, every soul among them would rather follow this knight and his coterie instead of lingering around Oleg's and risk his gruff wrath.
Christian looks at the crowd and smiles.
Is there anything else that anyone is in need of?...
"If you're asking for any other prospective hunters," the woman in green replies, "You'll be sorely disappointed. The rest of these folks, in their former lives, were farmers, porters, laborers, and woodcutters. Maybe a single butcher or baker among them. Of course, if you're actually keen on building out here, they may be just the folks you need."
She punctuates the sentiment with a wry smile.
Brandt grins at the woman's words, "And what is your name? I'm Brandt, son of Oluff the Tall. I've been a huntsmaster for a few years in Restov, and if you need any help, or want to help me with gathering food I'll be happy for it."
Surveying the crowd, "This is a lot of mouths to feed, and it will be challenging to plant and forage enough for everyone at once, two will make better work of it than one certainly. By Old Deadeye, we've got our work cut out for us don't we."
Turning to Christian, "As we've got more than a few mouths to feed now I would suggest we make as directly as possible for the fort site, and try to get Cavan and everyone else settled and working before we explore too much more in the area. I know some of the fords will need work or bridges, but perhaps this is the help we needed and we just needed to see that."
Looking to the others he adds, "Vera, Bydar, Mr. Pink, Orlogg; what do you all think, head straight to the fort? I'm suggesting it because it will be a lot easier to feed everyone if we aren't wandering about too much. And even possibly they can seed crops if we can get a shelter erected. "
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Assuming that Oleg and Svetlana were too distracted by Lord Christian's exceptionally persuasive words to decipher the string of somewhat jumbled queries issued by Mr. Pink at dinner, he took the opportunity to save his bowl of stew for later for perhaps some diplomacy of his own sort.
In light of Christian's rousing speeches and overt generosity, Mr. Pink has spent his time outside as well, busying himself in selecting a capable messenger to skillfully serve the budding new kingdom. Perhaps a sprightly looking young person or some much older spry individual, ill-suited to any of the more commonplace physical labors. He gathers a small crowd and issues a friendly competition.
"A select some should speak to subtler strengths to serve their sovereign."
The prize to the winner: 1 partially pecked-at bowl of Svetlana's famous stew and an official writ of commendation from Mr. Pink himself in service to the newfound kingdom that awaits them. Whether or not Mr. Pink finds a suitable courier to employ, he will nonetheless give the stew to the most worthy competitor before returning the bowl to Svetlana and Oleg.
Later on, he rejoins his companions to decide on their next course of action and nods his agreement with Brandt to move directly to the fort with so many followers in tow.
"Assembled and able amblers shall all aim more accurately after our auspicious arrival."
Bemused at Mr Pinks challenge to the crowd, Brandt offers encouragement to the participants.
After watching that for a few minutes he turns to Christian, Christian, I can help with the costs some for clothing these folks. Handing him some coin.
Taking advantage of the distraction that Pink's challenge offers, Vera responds quietly to Brand and the others.
"I agree that we do these folk and ourselves a favor in taking them under our wing - so to speak - and should not dally overlong in making our way to the place we intend to settle. Let us remain aware, though, that the power vacuum left by the Stag Lord's demise has probably left plenty of room for new challenges at the fort: we lead them into likely danger even as we offer them a new home.
"Not a reason to not do it, but a logistical challenge to be aware of. Lord Christian, from what I saw of the Argent Dracos camp, I imagine you've some experience in organizing and defending non-combatants. Have you confidence we can offer a measure of safety if these folk accompany us? ...Relative as such a term is in these lands, of course."
Turning to Christian, "As we've got more than a few mouths to feed now I would suggest we make as directly as possible for the fort site, and try to get Cavan and everyone else settled and working before we explore too much more in the area. I know some of the fords will need work or bridges, but perhaps this is the help we needed and we just needed to see that."
Your suggestion is wise. We should get moving at first light.
after watching that for a few minutes he turns to Christian, Christian, I can help with the costs some for clothing these folks. Handing him some coin.
He looks at Brand with genuine care and appreciation. His voice is filled with a respectful tone.
Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime. If you are willing...teach her and anyone else how to hunt, that would be of more value to me then sharing the lost of some coins.He extends his hand out to Brand in a show of respect for the man he has only recently come to know.
What would you say...think we can do that?
"I agree that we do these folk and ourselves a favor in taking them under our wing - so to speak - and should not dally overlong in making our way to the place we intend to settle. Let us remain aware, though, that the power vacuum left by the Stag Lord's demise has probably left plenty of room for new challenges at the fort: we lead them into likely danger even as we offer them a new home."Not a reason to not do it, but a logistical challenge to be aware of. Lord Christian, from what I saw of the Argent Dracos camp, I imagine you've some experience in organizing and defending non-combatants. Have you confidence we can offer a measure of safety if these folk accompany us? ...Relative as such a term is in these lands, of course."
I have accepted contracts to guard more than my fair share of merchant caravans. They are not easy to protect. In an ideal situation...I would have 3 to 4 times our numbers...maybe more...for such a task.
He pauses for a momentNow that being said...
The mercenary leader walks over to his wagon and pulls forth the maps that were provided for them.
Laying the maps out on the back of the wagon, he starts to point to several areas.
We are here at Outpost. My though are the same as before, we travel along the woods until we reach this area here. The thorn river camp. From our notes, we should be able to ford across the river and proceed along it until we reach our destination in about 2 to three days.
He stands back to allow the others to look at the map.
That is at a nice walking pace. It may be longer depending on terrain, health, obstacles...or any number of unforeseen situations.
To maintain our pace and safety...I suggestion that as people get tired they take some time off in the wagon. Rotate as needed. Break at lunch time and just before dark. We keep Orlog on the right flank of the wagon...closest to the forests. Mr. pink on point...not to far away. Brand keeps our backside clear while lending support from range. Vera and Bydar...you keep the non combatants in between you and the left flank of the wagon. The plains are open and should prevent anyone from sneaking up on us. The wagon will provide cover if anything should come out of the forest at us. The wagon can be used as cover both inside and below if it should be needed. The one place that will be hard for us to keep an eye on will be the forest...that is where Mr.Black and Sava come in. I wish you two to be our outriders so to speak. Fly along the forest and the plains looking for any problems that we may encounter so that we may deal with them before we have to deal with them.
Do I have confidence in our abilities to safely escort these folk to a new life?...Yes...Each and everyone of you brings something new and diverse to this mission. We just need to continue trusting each other and we will succeed.
Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime. If you are willing...teach her and anyone else how to hunt, that would be of more value to me then sharing the lost of some coins. What would you say...think we can do that?
Brandt gasps Lord Christian's forearm in a strong grip, "Aye, I think we can. It will take some time, but I'm sure we can can get one or two up to taking down some rabbits or maybe a deer. But let the coin not come from your coffers alone, I do not expect I will need much coin where we are headed, and if you feel the overwhelming need, then you can repay me later. Brandt concludes with a handful of platinum and gold coins.
Brand keeps our backside clear while lending support from range.
Brandt nods in agreement, I can take one person back with me, if the lass wants to learn woodcraft she can ride the other horse and we'll practice as we rearguard. Fenrir will let us know if there are other problems as well. Brandt concludes scratching the large wolfhound behind the ears.
Considering the maps Christian has laid out he scratches his own beard, Its near enough to sixty miles to where we're looking here. If we cover fifteen miles a day it will still take us four days, and we're not sure the grassland will have tracks enough for the wagon to be brought easily. It may be best to stretch that to five days, which allows us to hunt more actively in the evening while camp is set and come back with fresher food as we go. But terrain may keep us to almost seven days, especially if its rough going on the cart.
Looking to Christian and then to Bydar, That is if we can keep spirits up and the people moving, and tend to their injuries as we move? I'll defer to what the group thinks, but I'm not opposed to some caution to reach this destination, especially if trolls may be lurking further north than they are used to.