In worse, news, fellas, I think I must withdraw. I'm not able to keep up with the game. My apologies. Please do with Sir Eamon whatever seems best for the game. Good luck.
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"Too time consuming to do that each time," opines the paladin. "Let us push forward."
"You live here alone, you gather ingredients for your alchemy. How is it that you do not know the shape of the surrounding country, sir?"
"Well met, sir," says Eamon, reining in his mount. "We are exploring the Greenbelt. I am Sir Eamon. These are Halloran, Roysten, Rory Wanderbilt and Silstaren. What can you tell us of this area?"
I will be away on vacation from now until June 21st. Do with my character as you see fit and proper. In the meantime, he will fight any foe, defend any friend and support any prudent idea. He'll also try to negotiate as much as possible, accept surrenders where appropriate and unleash the righteous wrath of Erastil where necessary. And ogle a few skirts. Hey, he's a paladin, not dead! :-)
AZ, Can you post a map of what we've explored?
Awed by the idea of a direct sending from his deity, Eamon watches Jhod closely and with reverence. "Can you say more of this vision, brother Jhod? Where it lies or whether the bear be a mere animal or some creature of the Stag god?"
On hearing that, the paladin walks over, bowing formally. "A pleasure, brother. I am Sir Eamon of the Rose, servant of the Stag god. What brings you to Oleg's?"
Sir Eamon and Silstaren arrive from the stables and catch the end of the conversation between Halloran and Oleg. "Kobolds have a reputation for cowardice and thievery," the paladin notes, joining the conversation. "But we can say little better for the reputation of many of the humans dwelling in these lands. Present company definitely excepted. Oleg, Halloran has struck up a relationship on our behalf with a tribe of kobolds. It seems they may have things to trade, and if they behave themselves we would be obliged to you for permitting them to come here and sell their goods."
"I lack five crowns. If you will accept my promise to pay at a future date should I lose, then I will accept your wager." The paladin smiles as he finishes currying his mount and leads it back to its stall in the stables. "Of course! I don't have five crowns either, but by the time this is over, we'll either be dead or quite flush, I expect." _____________________________________________________________________ Later, when Eamon catches up to Halloran's conversation with Happs, he listens and asks "Where does this 'Stag Lord', hold court? And do you know if he mocks the holy name of Erastil with that title?"
"Five gold crowns says you enjoy yourself before it's over," says Eamon with a grin. Evidently, the paladin sees nothing wrong with a little gambling.
Eamon smiles and returns to brushing his mount's coat. "Almost as much harm results from lawlessness as from actively intended evil. The Sword Lords have the virtue of operating...mostly...under the rule of law. And it was they that sent us to quell these bandits, so that is no idle claim. As for the benefit, I am no lawyer, but it seems to me that the benefit they will enjoy is precisely the one for which they have commissioned us: an orderly, law-abiding market for Restov's goods where once they had a porous southern border rife with dangerous monsters and cutthroats." "If the Sword Lords have more direct designs on the Stolen Lands, they have not shared them with me." "I thank you for your pledge, and honor you for it. Few men ever have the opportunity to fight for a cause they believe in. I wish you joy of it."
Eamon shrugs. "I was demanding the surrender of those still awake. Unfortunately, that turned out to be all of them. Perhaps Halloran thought I was changing the plan, though that was not my intention." Eamon comes around the horses to look at Silstaren thoughtfully. "I have been called here to these lands, though I was not certain why. Yet I cannot believe it is to kill men and women who for the most part have been driven to banditry through desperation. No doubt there are some in their midst who are truly evil, but I would rather offer some hope of the future to these folk than to confirm in them the belief that life is merely matter of the strong ruling the weak." Eamon's voice becomes more certain even as his gaze wanders off into the distance. "We are chartered by the Sword Lords to chart this land and to clear it of bandits, and so I will strive to do. But do you not feel we could do more, Silstaren? This is an untamed land full of promise. Ridding it of bandits is not enough. Peace and order should be our beginning, not our end. We could build something here, something lasting, to the great benefit of its residents as well as the Sword Lords."
I agree with Halloran's proposed distribution of loot. Sadly, my paladin does not have the Appraise skill. :-) As for the cart, I think we would do better with a simple mule for now. If we hit the big time with a really big haul, one of us can come back and rent a cart. Perhaps we should sell it. Could we ask Oleg or Svetlana to appraise the loot?
"That has got to be one very good stew," observes Eamon, stretching his legs after dismounting. He greets Oleg, Svetlana, Alkaid and Jhod, then goes to tend to his mount. This is a job he never leaves to stable boys, but always sees to himself.
Sir Eamon chuckles at Rory's observation. "Agreed," he says, though it is not clear with which of his companions he is agreeing.
"Would it take long?" asks Eamon.
Seeing Halloran eye the goods in the cart, Eamon says "If you make any deals, be sure we get more than radishes out of it. These creatures may know much about the surrounding territory, including residents, villages and dangerous monsters. See what you can learn from them," he suggests.
"We are perforce interested in all who dwell within the Stolen Lands," says Eamon. "We must either make common cause with or root out all who dwell here. It is our mission to subdue this land and make it prosperous. If Halloran's words can help us keep our blades in our scabbards, the gods will be well pleased. Likely the Sword Lords as well."
"We'll make it up to her in oats at Oleg's," Eamon says. "We should use any proceeds from the sale of this gear to purchase a pair of mules or a draft horse."
"Idealist, yes. Starry-eyed, no," says Eamon.
Eamons' face is grim. "This is not Oleg's. We have no facilities for prisoners. If they live and will not immediately forswear banditry, they must be put to the sword. Yet if they will forswear, we should let them go. Few will return to their old ways after this defeat. Any who do will be killed on sight."
Eamon picks up his sword and stands, somewhat painfully. He also tries to spot the bandit.
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Is there a new map?
Also speaking of remembering... paladins get lay on hands at 2nd level. :-)
Sir Eamon rises back to consciousness as a result of Royston's blessing, but just barely. It goes against every instinct he has, but the paladin knows that if he tries to stand, he will be cut down. So he stays down and concentrates on defense.
Eamon takes a dirt nap.
Eamon lays in the dirt and bleeds until blessed by Royston. He gets shakily to his feet and retrieves his sword.
Righteous anger rising, the Knight of the Rose decides that he must now end this fight as swiftly and efficiently as he can. "Erastil and Restov!" he shouts as he sprints forward to a new firing position.
(includes PBS)
Eamon dismounts and moves south.
The explosion of sound does nothing to alter the paladin's plans. If anyone draws a weapon, he charges.
Sir Eamon thinks a while before responding. He sighs. Attacking from surprise rankles the paladin, though he certainly understands its merits. "Let me go in first," he offers in a whisper. "I will draw their attention to myself.
"We'll wait for your spell, Halloran," says Eamon. "Then I'll demand surrender," he says, looking to Royston. "Even if they don't surrender, we need prisoners. But nobody take chances that could get you killed. We're here first and foremost to end the threat of the bandits and second to get information. May the gods watch over us."
Eamon holds up a fist, the signal to stop quietly. He points at his ear and indicates the direction from which he heard speech. "Silstaren, Rory," he whispers. "Care to check it out?" Sir Eamon dismounts, throwing his horse's reins over a nearby branch, and nocks an arrow to his bow.
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