"Indeed Meneas. The hope is to strike down the leader of these bandits and the rest will quickly disperse. Though finding the liar of the bandits will be up to you and part of your duty in charting the region." the lord mayor responds tugging at his collar.
Uncupping his hands Riftun blurts an excited response to Signy's inquiry. "Many have actually tried settling there historically and failed every time, it's all extremely peculiar. Scholars have debated but-" the Ulfen man gasps and clamps his hands over his mouth again shaking his head as though to indicate the others should resume ignoring him.
As the gnome begins to debate with the nobles Jamandi can't help but roll her eyes derisively. "A bandit is a bandit some are just more clever than others but they all spread death and violence wherever they go and I won't be satisfied with simply pawning off that fate on someone else. Besides, the Mayor already tried negotiation despite my warnings. Didn't work out so well for him." she huffs.
"And an assassination implies that this is some kind of seedy underground deal we're making to eliminate the competition. Sorry to disappoint you but this is a perfectly legitimate bounty approved by the Dragonscale Regent himself. It shouldn't surprise you, the punishment for unrepentent banditry remains execution by rope or by sword." the half-elf glowers at Wisp. Her hate for all forms of banditry evident on her face and in her tone before she takes a moment to comport herself and shifts tactics with a sly smile.
"The reward is more than generous in my opinion and more than any of you could imagine I'm certain. The coin is only the beginning."
Ioseph takes a moment to hear out the aasimar before clearing his throat once again. "Well we may also have a fundamentally different understanding of the word 'cleared.' You see what we mean by that is if you should find dangerous wargs in the area you can deal with them however you see fit so long as they would no longer be a threat to any humanoid passing through the area. Also, if they are continuing to block off important trade routes through the territory they simply must be removed. Since the Stag Lord has taken over trade has utterly collapsed in the area with reports of caravans on land and by river being waylaid by man and beast and everything in between." The man takes a second to address his flop sweat with the hanky again.
"And if you're looking for more evidence of what he and his band have done to deserve such a fate I encourage you to strike out to Oleg's Trading Post. That is where we recommend you set up base in the region as you explore, it's our furthest endeavor into the Stolen Lands. An old abandoned fort turned into a trading post with just a little ingenuity! Marvelous, what the working man can do these days with just a small bit of investment."
Wisp seems surprised at Jamandi's reaction. And perhaps a little defensive at being lumped in with her more peacefully-minded companions. "I'm not the one sayin' to negotiate, m'lady. That was my compatriots-in-arms. I'm sayin' that it sounds dangerous, so I want to know the reward involved."
She clears her throat and straightens slightly, softening her tone. "I think that's perfectly reasonable to ask after. 'Tis normal, professional standard to tell the party the pay in advance, so they can assess the risks with clear eyes. 'Assassination', 'bounty hunting'—what I see is a dead body at the end of our travels. I... meant it neutrally. I apologize for my poor wording; I'm not from around here an' don't know your legal terms. No offense was meant."
Signy can't help letting a little bit of a giggle slip out at Riftun's outburst and shame cycles. She almost wishes she could take him along for the amusement of teasing and pranking him.
As for the Sword Lord and the Lord Mayor, Signy offers up a mock-serious "Your directions are clear enough. We will proceed to carry them out with all haste."
Meneas tilts his head at the Aldori woman, before inclining it slightly in respect. "I believe we are capable of doing at least some of that... but time will tell, I suppose." He looks to his companions, before back to the authorities. "I have no further questions. If everyone else is ready, I'd like to see to my horse and prepare for the journey to this Trading Post that you mentioned."
Wisp looks at her companions, realizing that the pay doesn't appear to be a priority for them. She gives a small sigh and nods to the nobles. "Well, I was only asking. It's a... professional habit. I've no other questions." She glances at Meneas. "What of your partner?"
"She'll be joining us as we set off." The smile is clear in the hooded man's voice.
Lorna waits, shaking her head in agreement with her companions, and finally steps ahead caringly touching Wisp on her shoulder, and gesturing towards Signy and Meneas.
I think your assessment is fair, and things seem crystal clear for our team. - she starts speaking to their hirers, trying to measure her words into brevity - We had to ask about the diplomatic route first, but honestly I think everybody here knew that at the end of the day, things with outlaws most times end up being resolved more in the blade than in words.
She finally steps ahead, swiftly opening her arms.
From my side, I have no other questions either, and I feel I share with my colleagues the excitement for going into such expedition. That's an opportunity for true impact in the realm, and it humbles me to be here with all these talented individuals.
It almost felt as if she was larger, for a moment - but maybe this was just her own presence of spirit.
Wisp barely visibly reacts to Lorna's hand—but Lorna feels her tense at the touch, bracing as if expecting an attack. Almost as quickly, the reaction is put to bed, and the gnome relaxes and gives Lorna a dishonestly casual smile.
Easy. Easy. Not the River Kingdoms. They do this sorta thing all the time around here. Nothing to scuttle the boat over.
She watches carefully, nonetheless, as Lorna takes charge. What's her game, anyways? Bard? Sorcerer? She surely isn't a fighter in those clothes, but she's got the build for one.
"Really!" she says, in response to Meneas. The gnome blinks. "Well, we can always use the extra hands."
There was indeed a significant difference between a bounty and an assassination, though Brental had never much been in the business of bounty hunting. The worth of doing something the was nature the work involved and what it brought of itself, not some extra reward. Not that Brental had no need of coin, just that it didn’t motivate him the same as Wisp. Brental held his tongue from a ponderous response.
But restoring trade spoke to the aasimar. What was trade between humanoids but an animal habit taken to its natural conclusion? Some druids fought against the encroachment of civilization, but Brental saw the world of commerce differently. A city could be as natural as a beaver’s dam or a roc’s nest. It was just that dwarves, orcs, and humans could organize themselves to build on the engineering prowess of their brethren of the forests and rivers to create architectural and social marvels. Of course they had a tendency to take things too far. One needed only recognize the hubris of the warring arcanists Geb and Nex further South to see the folly of mortals who mistook themselves stronger than the world and the blight they brought upon their brethren.
At least that was the way that Brental had internalized the teachings of the Lebedan merchant-lords back in Silverhall. The mayor and swordlord’s words struck him similarly. And so he acknowledged the explanation with simply, “We will do what must be done. To Oleg.”
Jamandi Adlori takes a deep breath and sighs at the gnome. "Indeed, you make a fair point Wylhia, you all certainly do deserve to know of your reward for such a hazardous task." The half-elven woman nods to Riftun and he hurriedly removes his hands from over his mouth and into the confines of his cloak where he takes out several sheets of fine parchment and approaches the party members one by one handing out the official charter for the quest. The Swordlord reads the contents of the charter aloud as her manservant hands them out.
"'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 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 as well as the pacification of local wildlife in the name of reestablishing trade through the region. So witnessed on this 24th day of Erastus, under the watchful eye of the Lordship of Restov and the authority granted by Lord Noleski Surtova, current Regent of the Dragonscale Throne.'"
"Upon verifiable completion of the tasks we have set before you including the through mapping of the Greenbelt region, the stabilization of the region, and the death of the Stag Lord a grand sum of 6250 gold shall be awarded. In addition, another one hundred gold per location of note discovered and marked upon said map." the clamy lord mayor followed up, flashing a confident smile at the announcement of the large sum of gold.
"Whatever you find whilest exploring the region is yours to take as well, there is sadly little hope of finding the origional owners of the stolen goods the bandits will no doubt be in possesion of. In addition, should you find yourselves successful in this endeavor we shall be will to contract you for another, far more lucrative, assignement." Lady Jamandi nods to each of you but looks Lorna directly in the eyes. "This mission is more important than you know, we're all counting on you."
"Yes, yes godspeed on your journey and do try not to get yourselves killed. I'd hate having to do this a fifth time." Ioseph mumbles.
Jamandi shoots him a quick glare then returns her attention to her frantic manservant. "If our guests have no further questions would you be so kind as to show them out Riftun. The Lord Mayor and I have much to discuss."
Riftun spins around so wildly to face his mistress whilst handing Meneas his copy that he nearly rips it in the cavalier's hands. "Y-yes of course my lady! It shall be done!" He then turns back to the party and bows politely. "P-please if you would follow me out this way."
The young man directs the party out the oaken doors and into the courtyard on the magnificent mansion with a jittery step and a series of nervous glances behind him to ensure the band of misfits is actually following him. Once they arrive at the mastodon and fey horse Riftun turns back to the group and smiles awkwardly. "Well, uhm, that seemed to go well. I-I think the Lady really likes you actually... even if she might appear a little rough around the edges. Bandits are..." the red-headed man sighs. "They're a difficult subject for her. I-I tried to warn you! Not that that did a lot of good..."
"Anyways, Oleg's Trading Post is ninety miles west of Restov following the South Rostland Road. Y-you'll probably want to make a few pitstops along the way at Nivakata's Crossing, about twenty-two miles out and then the Fort Serenko about the same distance away at the border. After that, I think it's just open road for the next fourty or so miles until Oleg's. Should take you around three days on horseback."
Riftun exhales, clearly exhausted from the prolongued interaction with others and glances around at the group earnestly. "J-just try to be careful okay? A lot of really tough looking adventurers tried this before you and some of them... well some of them didn't come back. I don't think my concious could handle another group going missing like that so if there's any additional information you'd think you'd find useful please ask me before you go."
"Oh!" he exclaims and reaches into his coat pocket pulling out a bulbous vial filled with a sparkling yellow liquid. "And, um if you could that is, please don't tell anyone I gave you this. The Lady hates it when I, 'baby' the adventurers. Says they won't learn anything but I think just this should be okay... probably."
Meneas looks at Wylhia for a moment, before chuckling, a pleasantly deep sound. "Yes, so could she."
With that, he turns back to the Aldori swordlord and her mayoral crony. At the mention of the King-Regent, his left fist clenches, but he remains otherwise still. Hm, apparently the lord-mayor doesn't have anything better to do than to issue this sort of 'quest.' Fascinating, but ultimately not relevant.
When Riftun leads the cowled knight and his companions away, he places a gloved hand on the young man's shoulder. "You have a good heart. Try not to let your Lady and the politics of this place corrupt it."
The manservant nearly jumps out of his skin when Meneas lays his hand on the young man's shoulder but shortly thereafter relaxes his body and smiles a nervous smile to the hooded man his cheeks baring a bit of crimson. "Y-You think so Meneas? Or, 'Mister Cowl' if you prefer. No, no you wouldn't prefer Mister Cowl that's stupid of me, I'm so sorry! A-Anyways you seem to be of a good sort yourself, you're not nearly as scary as you looked at first."
"Lady Jamandi really isn't so bad though. She used to be an adventurer just like all of you so she knows what it's like out there. She's done some really incredible things and, truth be told, I really admire her." Riftun rubs the back of his head his cheeks going slightly redder as he makes the embarrassing confession.
Brental makes note of the sum, pleasantly surprised. You could do a lot with that. And the task seemed far less concerning with everything laid out like this.
Once outside, Brental goes straight for Vodnykel. His countenance brightens as he reaches behind the mastodon ears, giving a good scratch. The calf gives a happy but muted trumpet and curls his trunk around Brental's arm. "Hello to you too, my friend! Were you good? Did you make a new friend?" Brental looks at Meneas' mount quizzically, wondering of its nature.
As Riftun hands over the vial, Brental waits to see if anyone else grabs for it. When none do, he walks a few paces as the Ulfen stammers excitedly. "Thank you, friend," he says gently. Then he uncorks the bottle and smells the potion. Pleasant with a hint of...sage and vanilla? The aasimar chants and intones and his eyes go iridescent as he studies the item. After about twenty seconds, he corks the bottle.
"While I hope we don't need this, I would never turn down such a balm for the body or mind. A powerful but lesser restorative for longer-lasting damage than what Wisp's tree branch could ordinarily manage." Remembering Riftun's nervousness he adds, "Your kindness will remain between us."
Wisp's eyebrows raise when she's told the reward. My, my. Someone who has use for money would... make quite a lot out of that. And who doesn't have use for money? Aside from Brental, anyways.
She wants to respond, or to engage in the conversation. But the gnome finds her words retreating inward, and it's all she can do not to follow them, to stop paying attention altogether to what's happening around her. And it's not safe for her to do that.
She stays close to Brental, and the others see for the first time why the gnome carries the staff—she favors her right leg distinctly, letting it drag slightly behind her with every limping step. Her expression is unreadable. Too much. Too much talking. Too many roofs, too many strange people. Everything's started buzzing around her, like she's stuck her head into a yellowjacket burrow.
She needs to be quiet, but more than that, she needs to get back outside, away from this place. It's just too much right now. She manages to smile at Riftun, with an "Mm," of agreement to Brental's words. Otherwise, Wisp shadows the party in silence.
Lorna thanks Jamandi, happy with the details and the sumptuous reward, and follows the servant to the courtyard. She chuckles when she hears the conversation between him and Meneas; she didn't think Lady Aldori or the mayor were bad at all, just honestly at their edges.
Silently and patiently she holds and waits as Brental checks the potion bottle. Meanwhile, Lorna gives the best of her smiles to the mastodon - truthfully, a little too scared to approach - and lifts her hand as if trying to lovingly pat its fur.
He is incredible, my friend. What a beautiful animal. - she says, then turning to Meneas and his horse - Yours, too. I feel safer already with these beautiful kids accompanying us!
Lorna decided to give some space to Wylhia; she gave her the usual smile, but respected the distance. People many times hide a lot behind their façades - wisdom and wit, many of such times - and the Taldan woman had learn better to read beyond appearance.
Riftun beems at Brental, "Thank you very much for being your courtesy Brental, it's okay if I call you Brental right? I'm probably being too familiar I tend to do that a lot. I'm terribly sorry if I've offended you in any way..."
The man kicks at the rocks in front of him for a few seconds before lifting his gaze cautiously back up to the others. "A-Anyways, there's a stabke you can rent horses from as you leave the city should you need them. I could be wrong but I believe it's around a gold piece per day a-and you should be able to leave them at Oleg's if you want to return them... I'll just be getting out of your way now then. Please stay safe. May Desna guide your path."[/b]
With that the scatterbrained yound man turns back towards the mansion of his Lady and leaves the adventurers to their business.
Meneas inclines his head as Riftun leaves before turning to go out with the newly chartered adventurers. He goes to the stables, eyeing the mammoth creature that Brental claims as his own warily, before he turns to Veil. With a careful eye to detail and a steady hand, he ensures she's prepared for the journey ahead, taking her by the reins. "She is very lovely, yes... but more special than she shows - at least right now." His says, amused.
"In any case, once I get my equipment from the inn I've been staying at, I will be prepared. Shall we meet outside Restov?"
Signy gives Riftun a squeeze on the arm.
"Bye Riftun and thanks. Maybe don't let Jamandi boss you around quite so much?"
"I can be out of my place in an hour at most. Where outside Restov do you have in mind?"
To the west - on the South Rostland Road. That will bring us most directly to Oleg's Trading Post, and the Stolen Lands beyond." Meneas says after a moment's thought.
"Nowhere to be." Wisp taps her staff against the dirt. "I'm ready to go, I mean. Meet you at the road."
Signy catches everyone with a single broad wave goodbye as she starts walking.
"Alright see you all there in a little while."
With that done, Meneas returns to his inn, gathers his equipment, and returns to Veil. "Looks like we're off into the wilderness, my friend. Hopefully this'll treat us as well as the ones up north did, huh?"
Packing away the gear in his backpack and Veil's saddlebags, he leads her through the streets Restov to the gate out west to the Southern Rostland Road. Goodbye, Restov. I won't miss you or your arrogant overlords.
The nervous Ulfen man makes Brental chuckle. "Of course you can call me Brental. That’s my name after all. Be well until we meet again."
During this exchange, Vodnykel watches as Lorna raises her hand. He flaps his ears playfully. The mastodon studies her but does not make any sudden movements. Brental turns to watch this interaction, patting his shaggy side at Lorna’s compliment.
"You hear that, boy? She thinks you’re pretty."
Vodnykel lets forth a mirthful trumpeted peal. Brental chuckles and says to the noblewoman, "He won’t approach you unless you let him. He’s a respectful calf with a gentle soul."
The mastodon snorts through his trunk.
"What? I can call you gentle."
This back-and-forth goes on for a few moments until the group disperses. Brental brings out his coin purse and counts out 10 silver and 2 copper. He frowns. Perhaps he should have asked for an advance if they were to be expected to rent horses. But in any case, Brental liked walking just fine. Vodnykel was still at that awkward stage where it was imprudent to ride him. Eventually. He might get jealous if Brental brought a horse along.
With little else to do, Brental wanders idly around Restov for a bit. He and Vodnykel draw a few odd glances, but Brental is sure that these people have seen far stranger than this pair. Then again, it’s not every day that an animal this large, other than a horse, parades through city streets. It isn’t long before they wander to the Southern Rostland Road. Brental sees Meneas there with Veil and greets him.
"Meneas," he begins with a coy smile. "You have experience with the First World? I’m curious about what your interactions with fey have been. Specifically, that is."
Wisp is trying to stay next to Brental, and trying very, very hard to pay attention to what's happening around her... but somehow, she exits her own thoughts to realize everyone has split up and she's been left alone.
The gnome sighs. She adjusts her skull, fixes her cloak, and makes her way quickly to the nearest exit from town.
Wisp feels better the second the gates are at her back. She takes several deep breaths, hurrying into the foliage and immersing herself in the relative quiet of the forest—the crunching of Erastus-dried pine needles underfoot, the fluttering of wings above, the chittering of the insects, the arguments of the two rabbits over whether to run or eat as she passes by.
Her nose wrinkles. Still too much. And so she allows even her beastspeech to fade away, letting the rabbits' words melt into nice, meaningless squeaks and rustles. She leans on an old pine and takes a deep, calming breath. Her hands wave idly, slowly at first, then very quickly—as if she's trying to physically shake away all the stress and anxiety of her short and unpleasant time under a noble's roof and of the confrontations and new meetings within. It takes her a few minutes to calm down.
She takes the long way back, and smiles widely as she sees Meneas and Brental already there—along with two beastly companions. She waves. "Hey there! You two made good time. The ladies of our band haven't shown up yet?"
Not having any more coins - Lorna spent it all to travel - she approaches the group with a refreshed, yet concerned face.
Well, my friend, you're a lady as well! - she replies Wylhia with a big smile. She then turns to the others.
Unfortunately, though, I can't afford the rent of the horse. I was hoping they'd provide us with... Something, even if a braying ass. - she chuckles, happy with her own joke - Maybe we should knock back at lady Jamandi's and discuss her investment.
Wisp makes a playful show of modesty, cooing shyly over herself. "Oh, m'lady, but it's kind of you to say so!
"As for the mounts, 'tis my experience that the richer someone gets, the more they'll fight to the death to hold onto pennies." She gives her skull a little knock with her staff. "I think if we go askin' for asses, we may just get jack."
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It doesn't take too much time before the rest of the companions have all gathered outside Restov. Lacking the funds to rent horses of their own the companions decide that those that must walk shall walk whilst Meneas and Wylhia shall be mounted on their fey horse and Brental's celestial mastodon respectively.
The journey is long and the heat of the summer day is a little wearisome on the band of travelers but the gentle breeze on their faces and occasional shade provided by a wandering cloud mitigate the majority of the mildly high temperature and the reasonably maintained road leads to fast travel.
All around them the rolling plains stretch as far as the eye can see, beautiful and serene with a smattering of mildly wooded areas providing some shade to the animal residents of the land. What land is not preserved in its natural state is flush with large fields for the many residents of Brevoy who prefer to live outside the city limits to work.
On their left the Shrike River keeps pace with them on their long trek, its pristine waters wishing by, unhindered by the troubles of the world. Along the banks of this river several ballets of gorgeous mute swans gather, preening themselves or floating along the slower parts of the river with an unearthly grace. Through the air the party catches sight of several brilliant blue kingfishers flitting about in search of their next meal. At one point the party even comes across a fully functional dam built by the lumbering but diligent and hard-working beavers happily bobbing through the river and making themselves busy along its shores.
None of this could top the sight of when the river tumbled down a series of small cliffs forming an impromptu crystalline staircase of cascading water.
When night falls, the party still has a ways to go before they can reach their first resting point at Nivakta's Crossing so they press on well into the dark hours with only the waning gibbous rising in the warm night air to light their way.
Eventually, the party arrives on the border of the small town of Nivakta's Crossing, the last village to the south of Restov. A wooden palisade rises to greet them and the party can see from here that the village does, indeed, include a bridge crossing over the Shrike leading out into the Nomen Heights though this is evidently guarded by two small watchtowers flanking the pathway on the Brevoy side of the border.
As the party advances towards an opening in the palisade they are greeted by the voice of a stoat man in a straw hat trudging forward to meet them.
"Alright, alright who goes there now? State yer business! And be off with ya if yer even thinking of startin' trouble cause we don't want any! Hear?!" the older man croakes out in a sour tone as he raises his lamp high illuminating his weathered features and predominante scowl.
I am Lady Lorna Medvyed. We are here in the name of Lady Jamandi Aldori, on our way to Oleg's outpost. - says the noblewoman, in a loud yet friendly tone - We don't seek trouble... But some rest for the night, and some supper.
She stops, giving her companions some space to speak as well.
The old man at the entrance takes stock of the elegantly dressed woman before him through his beady eyes and huffs. "Fair enough, fair enough. We 'ave lodging you lot could rest your laurels for the night before you pop off smart-like in the morning. We don't want no trouble 'ere an' city folk 'ave a tendency to bring it with 'em. 'Specially when the government's involved. The dragon 'as two 'eads an'all."
Spitting on the ground and digging into it with his heel the old man stands to the side and indicates a small wooden structure which barely stands out from the others in the drab town. "You wants to 'ead there. That's the Two Beavers Tavern go in there an' speak to Oksana. She'll provide you with lodging. Can't promise it'll be comfortable though."
He then spends several seconds dislodging what sounds to be a sizable amount of phlegm from his throat and spits at the ground again before waving his lantern at the others in the peculiar group, hovering over Whylia and Meneas longer than the others. "You lot sure you ain't workin' for that there Stag Lord fella?"
Meneas relaxes somewhat as they leave the city, and hops lightly up onto Veil's back. As he does so, her red coat becomes more vibrant and her eyes twinkle with a mischievous cunning. At Brental's question, he shrugs slightly. "Apparently my birth was met with some sort of fey creature prophesying about who I would become. I don't know exactly what sort of fey she was, though I suspect she was a servant of one of the Eldest - probably Magdh."
He pauses for a long time before continuing. "My mentor was also involved with the First World somehow. We visited on occasion, but most of the time we spent our lives in Golarion." He falls silent.
At the town, Meneas remains quiet, though he keeps a careful eye out on the others and the villagers just in case. He doesn't expect any actual threats, but it's good to remain in the habit of being aware.
Wisp's eyes widen slightly as Meneas explains his origins. "The First World! Well!" She looks between Meneas, then at his horse, then back at Meneas.
Almost under her breath, she murmurs, "Don't we make a funny crew!"
On the journey, Wisp is talkative, pointing out landmarks and sites of druidic significance—which, the group promptly learn, seem to be just about every ten meters in this region, so she tries to focus on the more important ones to avoid talking anyone's ear off. She does struggle astride her mastodon mount, though, repeatedly complaining to Brental, "Why doesn't he like me? I swear he keeps sniffin' at me and scowling!"
She warns Signy and Lorna away from the beavers, if they seem inclined to get close. "Not as cuddlesome as they look," she says to anyone who'll listen. "An' you should hear what they're sayin' about us."
The gnome takes special pains to bring Brental into conversations, and aside from the beavers and landmarks, she mostly seeks to flatter and endear herself to Meneas, Signy and especially Lorna, encouraging anything they want to talk about and playing the eager listener. For Lorna, raised in a noble house, it is perhaps a familiar sort of interaction; being made the target of a charm offensive might be a bit more outside Signy's or Meneas's experiences, or it might not.
Wisp curtseys to the old fellow. "My Brother Brental here is an honorable Oaksteward, master, and I but a humble gnome o' the Green Faith. We care more for normal stags than for that blackguard." She makes a show of spitting to the side.
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Even though Signy was the first to leave, she is the last to arrive for the rendezvous. After packing up her belongings, which took only minutes since she's been traveling for some time, Signy begins to realize she won't see a city for some time.
She decides a farewell lunch is in order, and has one. Then, with something to occupy her time, she makes it a leisurely lunch. After all, the worst part of meeting up with people is the waiting, and the best way to avoid the waiting is to be late.
She also stops to augment her stocks a little. Since she can't afford a horse, the trip will be longer, which means more provisions needed. The additions to her kit are roughly half mix for making travel cakes and syrup, and half booze.
When Signy shows up she greets everyone cheerily. "Well, now that we're all here we can get going" she says. There isn't the slightest trace of irony in her statement.
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Signy finds most everything on their journey, no matter how mundane, very interesting. She comments on all the new things she comes across as the group travels. Given the frequency of these comments, it isn't hard to conclude that Signy has spent almost no time in places that aren't cities.
She talks about deer, opossums, birds and their calls, moss of unusual colors, and the rushing water of streams. Every time she finds a newest "biggest tree I've ever seen" she stops to walk around it and touch it.
Her always positive comments about nature plus her chatting with the others members of her group add up so that Signy hardly stops talking at all.
She describes at length her ambition is to see a deer, a fox, a raccoon, and a bear. She's seen drawings of them in picture books and they look really nice and wild. Signy doesn't stop hectoring her fellow travelers until they have all promised to tell her immediately if they see any of those animals so she has a chance to see them too.
Signy squees at both the swans (which she has seen before, but not in the wild), and the waterfall. Wisp's warning about the beavers badly disappoints Signy.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Despite her enthusiasm for the day's travel, Signy is more than ready for rest by the time they reach Nivakta's Crossing. She reaffirms Lorna's claim they are only traveling through and looking for a night's rest.
She adds "your village is really nice" as if her positive assessment of the place will be the password for entry, or will hearten the watchmen if they were on the fence concerning the question.
Signy decides discretion is best when the Stag Lord is brought up. There may be spies everywhere.
"Nope, I've heard the name in Restov though. Does he ever come around here? I'd heard he was in the forests of the Stolen Lands."
Brental marvels as Meneas jumps on his mount, getting some of the answer to his question before the formal explanation begins. He didn’t put much stake in 'prophecy', per se: Magdh, Pharasma, and other prophet gods were more likely wise with eons of insight, or else playing their chess games to ensure their preferred outcomes in events. Brental could predict weather or reason out someone’s most likely reaction to an event, but he was no prophet. The aasimar wonders what Meneas thinks about this prophecy business, but files away his follow-up questions for a later, more appropriate time.
"I would not mind visiting the First World at some point," he offers.
---
During the long trek to Nivakta’s Crossing, Brental adds his own occasional comments to Wisp’s stories or Signy’s marvelings, pointing out animals that Wisp might miss. He also notices that a few of his new traveling companions look like perhaps their feet are beginning to hurt. And of course, Wisp is struggling with Vodnykel. Brental speaks up, "I did not commune for such power today, but tomorrow I could attempt to call* up to two wild horses and attempt to befriend them. Wisp, if you could attempt the same, at least once, then we would have enough to carry all of us. Perhaps a smaller mount for you? Vod likes berries if you’re worried about his attitude: he’s just not used to being ridden."
Brental doesn’t sense any malice from his calf towards the gnome**, but he keeps a careful eye on them for the rest of the day’s journey.
---
To the gruff guard’s question regarding the Stag Lord, and following his compatriots’ statements, Brental replies, "Further to the contrary, we aim to oppose the Stag Lord. Perhaps not at this late hour, but we would like to know what you know of him. Not to trouble you."
Meneas inclines his hood at Brental's words. "Such is a worthy aspiration. Perhaps not wholly wise, but worthy." He chuckles at his own words before shaking his head. "No offense intended, of course."
The hooded knight looks from each of his companions to the other, his shoulders sagging in mild disappointment. Well, this will be a grand start, I think. For now he keeps his counsel, lest he damage the Wisp's argument even further with his own words.
The old man snorts deeply, and shrugs his broad shoulders lowering the lantern at his side. "Well, at least you got manners, I'll tell you that young miss. I can't say I'd be knowin' what an Orkstewizard is nor 'ave I 'eard nothin' about this Gren Faith you speak of but you're welcome 'ere in Nivakta's Crossing for the night at least. Just keep an 'andle on yer beasties an get a moving on before the sun sets again."
He stands to the side and waves the party in stopping Signy as she makes to pass. "'old a moment now there city-slicker. It'd be much appreciated if you could stay the sarcasm as long as you're in town. We know it ain't much 'ere but it's 'ome an we takes pride in that's all I'm saying." The man tips his straw hat at the woman and chuckles. "Besides ain't everyone 'ere as nice as me and you don't wanna go gettin' in trouble now."
"As for the Stag Lord, or whatever 'e's callin''imself these days… 'e never shows round these parts but sometimes 'is cronies come up just past the border tryin' to stir up trouble so you'd best be careful this far south."
At Brental's clarification the man snorts and something unpleasant is dislodged from his bulbous nose which he takes just a few moments too long to wipe away for anyone's comfort. "Oh sure, you're 'ere to deal with tge leader of a small army all by yer lonesomes. An' I'm the lost Conqueror 'imself!" the man gaffes sending spittle flyinging and revealing missing or otherwise blackened teeth.
Signy tilts her head slightly and blinks in confusion when the old man stops her up short to berate her.
"What? I said you have a nice village. Don't you believe me? It's nice."
Wisp gives a nervous laugh, hopping down from the mastodon to (try to) take Signy by the hand. "Dear, why don't we hurry along to find a spot in that lovely inn? You have a lovely town," she adds to the old man, with a big, friendly smile, "but in the city, they say matters exactly as they fall, very direct-like. 'Tis a bit artless, so it sounds sarcastic to many, but she means what she says."
Oh, dear, there's no sarcasm here. The road had been long and your village is a sight for sore eyes. I am honestly very, very happy to hear about a warm bed and supper. If you know the Medvyed, you know we live a humble, rustic life by the Gronzi forest.
Lorna is sincere in her words - despite being a good sized manor, it's still considerably humble when compared to other noble houses, and the Medvyed are known for being more grounded and closer to nature.
Regardless, let's please leave our friend to his business. We have to catch up and, like my companion here said, we should hurry to find a spot in the inn. - she completes with her most honest smile.
Brental begins leading Vodnykel inside the town gates and towards the tavern, silently urging his companions to come along and avoid some unnecessary diplomatic incident. His stomach grumbles a bit: it had been a long time since their lunch back in Restov...
Meneas inclines his hooded head at the guard, a nod of genuine respect. "Keep up the good work." He says sincerely before gently urging Veil forwards, following in Brental's footsteps.
When the group is out of earshot of the guard, he turns to Signy and Brental. "That could have gone better." He says mildly, his tone polite. No need to make any rivalries at this stage in time. They'd only hinder our development as a team. He pauses, before chuckling softly at the thought. I'm going to have to get used to that, too.
"I think we'll all feel better once we get some food in our bellies," Brental replies.
Wisp withholds a number of remarks to Meneas—half of them more enthusiastically in agreement than is needed, half of them standing up for Brental and Signy more aggressively than is warranted. "Sometimes stayin' quiet's the safer bet. But now we know things we didn't before, an' no ill came of it." She smiles up at Signy—if Signy let her take her hand, Wisp releases it now. "Sweetness might catch more flies, but we use honey to mask poison, dear. The country folk don't always trust it. Learn to sprinkle it in delicately an' I'm sure you'll make plenty of friends out here."
Signy doesn't resist being led on by Wisp. She isn't looking for trouble, though it's tempting to stay and show the old man what actual sarcasm is like.
"That could have gone better." He says mildly, his tone polite.
"That's for sure." Signy is very put out by the episode. Her voice is huffy and irritable. "Rude! What was eating that guy? I was just being pleasant."
"Sweetness might catch more flies, but we use honey to mask poison, dear. The country folk don't always trust it. Learn to sprinkle it in delicately an' I'm sure you'll make plenty of friends out here."
"So you're saying don't be nice to people out here because they will dislike you for it. Got it."
"So, if I'm extremely nasty to people here, will they turn out their pockets and shower me with money?"
"See, that's what sarcasm sound like."
Wisp sighs. "Well, no, dear, but... I'm only trying to help."
"But I'm not the one who needs help, he is."
It's clear Signy has decided she's the aggrieved party, and her position is the hill she wants to die on.
Fortunately it's late, and the party will be leaving the town in the morning.
Wisp opens her mouth to argue, but stops herself, seeing the young Caydenite has made her mind up. She shrugs, smiles weakly, and hurries to the inn. It's never a good idea to argue with one's traveling companions after sundown. Too easy to not notice a knife being drawn.
Sneering at Signy the old man spits at her heels as she is walked away by her little gnomish friend. "Best watch yerself around these parts city-slicker. Cause ain't none of us gonna be watchin' out for ya."
The man huffs and looks down at Wisp nodding his head solemnly. "I 'preciate what yer tryin' to do, coverin up for yer friend 'ere but might be best to just move 'er along now 'fore she says somethin' she might regret."
"Same goes for you yer royal 'ighness. I ain't got the time to keep track a every noble in the land, I got 'nough problems with the Surtovas an' Aldori barkin' at each other. An' we're always the ones what that pay for these little noble scraps. Funny that." He grumbles as Lorna walks away.
"Aye, that I shall." he mumbles to Meneas before turning his back on the group and resuming his duties of watching the road for anything suspect.
The party ambles forward on sore legs a bit longer before they arrive at the Two Beavers Tavern. Little more than a standard, if slightly larger, village home with a cheap sign swinging loosely by the entrance. The sign depicted a mug of frothy ale with one beaver soaking in the liquid and another climbing a ladder up to the top of the mug to join its friend. It read 'Two Beavers Tavern' with a tag line under the image reading simply, 'Two Beavers Are Better Than One.'
Inside, the accommodations were just as sparse, hardly any decor and a heavy smell of stale ale and something else equally vile you collectively chose not to question. A few tables are laid out but the place is largely clear of customers, save yourselves. Only an older man laying face-down on the table, drink still in hand, and a larger middle aged Kellid woman with a sour expression and greasy black hair tied back in a haphazard bun standing behind the bar occupy the room with you.
"Well, fancy seein' new folk in here at this ungodly hour just as I finished cleanin' up for the evenin'. To what do I owe the pleasure?" the woman behind the bar scowls as she indicates to where they can sit. "Stay is a silver, ale's two copper a mug. So what'll it be?"
Small villages. Meneas sighs inwardly. Well, at least I'm learning more about my compatriots now. Possibly more than I'd have ever wanted... When they arrive at the inn, Meneas dismounts from Veil, giving her a brief, but careful rub-down, and making sure she is properly accommodated before joining his fellows inside.
The knight-errant eyes the Kellid woman carefully, before inclining his head. "Have any food? We're looking for a bit to sup, I think, and perhaps a drink or two each." He looks to his companions, seeking confirmation.