Kingmaker Narrator's page

At that, Oleg steps forward. "If'n you're asking me, I'd as soon be having them from the palisade wall, and leave their bodies for the crows as a warning to the other bandits. Then again, I'm not as soft-hearted as some folks, so whatever you do to them is fine by me, so long as they'll never darken my land again. Whatever you decide to do, though, be quick. I don't know how long I can keep the missus from running out here and gutting them like fish. She's still sore about the ring they too."

Oleg then shrugs, and returns to the main house, a violently swearing Svetlana can be heard in the background.

The bandits stare at each other, then begin babbling information as fast as they can, interrupting each other and talking over themselves in an effort to give up as much information as possible. Like all bullies, these men know what they would be doing in your position, and are desperate you don't.

Once you sort things out, you get the following:

- Their camp is "about one day away, through the forest, past the radishes, along the Thorn River."

- This band all answers to someone called "The Stag Lord." In fact, on closer inspection you find a small silver pin in the shape of a stag on the body of Happ. These bandits have never actually met him, though, as he rules from a fort far to the south, along the banks of a lake called the "Tuskwater".

- The number of people in the camp changes often, as they are mostly in small bands that roam about the Greenbelt. They estimate the number in the hundreds, but you're skeptical.

- Their immediate boss is a sadistic woman named "Kressle." She matches the description of the woman Svetlana saw.

- The camp is large, and well defended by numerous hidden platforms placed in the trees. The bandits all have bows, and "are dead shots, like elves. They'll kill you before you even know they're there."

Other than that, it's mostly just a mix of bravado, begging for their lives, pleas for mercy, and sob stories about their horrible childhoods, and each one says how he, personally, has never done anything really bad, just followed along with the rest.

With all of our heroes well hidden in their positions, the waiting game begins. Unfortunately, the bandits don't seem to be of the punctual sort, and the minutes, then hours tick by, your legs and arms cramping as you struggle to remain hidden.

Finally, though Orin lets out a low whistle as he sees the thieves enter from the forest fence. You ready your weapons, and Svetlana quickly kisses Oleg goodbye, then ducks into the house.

A sword hilt pounds on the main gates, and a low, thuggish voice cries out "Ho, merchant! It's time to pay your taxes! Open up or we’ll start tossing some fire in to speed your asses up!”

Oleg steels himself, then walks over to the gate and pushes it open. Once it's wide enough, four men ride in, with two spare horse in tow. Their leader is a thick set man dressed in leather armour with a bow slung over his shoulder and a dagger at his hip. Behind him ride three more men in leathers with bow and shortswords. They call out some cruel, vulgar taunts to Oleg, mostly concerning "that wench of yours," but they seem to be fairly casual and unconcerned.

As you watch, they dismount, and the leader, who the rest call "Happs" watches as they start loading the furs and trade goods onto the horses. As the work progresses, Happs seems increasingly restless, his eyes darting back and forth, searching in the shadows. Oleg, noticing this, casually jokes "what's the matter, expecting the King's guard to jump out at you?" Too casually as it turns out. Happ's gaze snaps to him, and he reaches up to his shoulder for his bow.

That's enough for Thumparr. The dwarf lets fly with his bolt, striking the stunned looking Happs in the chest. Orin moves a fraction of a second later, standing at the peak of the house, his arrow a blur as it impacts next to the first, dropping the bandit in the dirt, a pool of blood spreading slowly outwards.

Sasha takes a shot, badly injuring another bandit as he stands gaping, still holding a bundle of furs. The last two bandits turn to flee, and run straight into Den and the barbarian Gnome entering the gate. Fenna rushes out and asks whatever gods or powers the strange Gnome worships to spare the life of the thug Sasha shot.

Muk lets out a blood-curdling scream as he charges the last two bandits, his giant sword swinging over his head. He stops short, though, as a patch of grass at the bandits' feet begins to writhe and grow at the command of the druid behind him, quickly entangling the two men who begin sobbing for mercy.

As you finish your meal, Oleg addresses the group.

"Now, I'm no soldier, or mercenary, or whatever you call yourselves, but it seems to me you've got the element of surprise here. What I'd do if I were you, is hide in the guest house and the stable, and when that lot is busy loading what's left of my furs and other goods onto their horses, you can rush out and attack them." He takes a swig of mead. "But if that doesn't work for you, you just do what you like. Never a one to tell a tradesman his work, me. Just leave me something to string up when you're done, as a warning to the rest of the trash in this forest not to try something like this again. If you need my help, I'm a fair hand with an axe, and I've got a hunting bow in the back. Just let me know how I can help."

Oleg and his wife exchange a meaningful glance, fear plainly written on the woman's face. Oleg takes the offered copy of the writ, and slowly begins to read, his thick finger tracing the words as his lips silently sound them out. As he works his way through it, Svetlana turns to Den.

"So you're not the guards we begged for?" She looks over at her husband, "oh, Oleg! What are we going to do? They're coming tomorrow, and we can't keep playing them off forever!"

Oleg finishes reading. "That's fine, wife. we'll make do somehow. Now," he says, turning back to Matius, "even if you aren't guards, it says here you're to do somethin' about these bandit scum that infest this useless country. There's this one band that turned up about three months ago, collecting 'taxes'. They threatened to burn the place to the ground if'n I didn't let them in and hand over my stock of trade goods. If it were just me, I'd... well, anyway with the missus here I decided to play along, and just hand over all the pelts I'd bought. Since then, they've been back at the first day of the month, each month, and this time I've got no pelts to pay them off! I sent some letters back North with some hunters, and we got word the Swordlords were going to send a patrol down. I was starting to think they'd be too late, then you came over the hill. Now... I guess I'm just going to have to handle this myself." He looks over meaningfully at his axe.

"If you're just here to survey, well, we're still open for business now, at least," Oleg says, changing the subject. "Dinner, a bed, and some breakfast is five silver each. Another two silver if you want your horse stabled and fed. I've also got some equipment for sale, if you've got some extra coin."

Svetlana, having regained some of her previous composure, jumps in. "Nonsense! These people are obviously skilled, and I'm sure they can handle anything. After all, now that they think we've been cowed," she avoids looking at her husband, "they keep sending fewer and fewer to collect their gjald. And that horrible woman hasn't come back since the first time. Just offer them free room and board, and let them do their work!" She glares at her husband.

Oleg looks speculatively at you, his eyes glancing at your weapons and armour. "Well?" he asks. "You take care of this little problem for me and I'll let you stay under my roof, free." He searches your faces for an answer, hope beginning to return to his expression.

As you approach the gates, you hear the sound of a wooden bar being lifted away. The gates are then pushed laboriously outward to reveal a ruddy, middle-aged woman.

"Oh, thank Erastil!" she sighs. "It's about time you got here. It's been months, and we were starting to think they'd forgotten about us, and were just going to leave us to those ba-" She's interrupted by the arrival of the large, burly man you saw on the roof earlier.

"Quiet wife!" he barks. "We don't know these people from Aroden." He peers at you more closely. "Though I admit they don't look like bandits. I'm Oleg Leveton, and this is my wife Svetlana. Are you the guards we sent for? If so, I hope your skill with blades matches your timing, as the next payment is due tomorrow."

He looks at you expectantly.

Our heroes have been travelling for days now, leaving Rostov and Brevoy behind, along with farms, towns and civilization, travelling deep into the Southern wilderness. Steadily, the terrain has gotten rougher, and the buildings and signs of habitation fewer and farther between. The road you've followed has changed from a major highway, to a backroad, then a simple wagon trail, and now is nothing more than a simple, at times hard to follow, trail. Supposedly, this "Oleg's Trading Post" is a major landmark here, but the area seems as abandoned as ever.

Over the next rise you see a thin coil of smoke rising in the summer afternoon sun, maybe a cook-fire? Cresting the hill, you see the source. A rough wooden palisade, complete with the ruins of catapults in towers, surrounding a few simple buildings. On the roof of the largest building you see a large man, fixing a hole. As you begin down the hill towards him, he notices your group, waves, shouts something you can't catch to someone else within the compound, and begins climbing down.

The main gate is closed.

Initiative scores
Orin Ro = 14
Syndessa Shadestalker = 13
Karth Tallstag = 10
Den Sarment = 10
Thumparr Ironfist = 7
Fenna Thistleswade = 3
Mukrilgrundt Sizzeltonin = 2[\ooc]

Orin Ro scanned the battlements, bow at the ready and ears perked, ready to let fly at the slightest motion. The Calistrian drew her ancient dueling sword and moved behind the left statue, briefly glancing at it as she stared into the courtyard. "Hmm..." she thought to herself, "looks almost dwarven, but too worn to tell."

Suddenly, the bard, Karth, startled, shouted "archers make ready, seems we have a welcoming party." The rest of the party looked over at him, almost involuntarily, then back at the wall, as almost a dozen brutish figures appeared along the parapets, loaded crossbows in hand.

Orin wasn't surprised by Karth's warning, however. Elven senses already honed by years in the woods were already screaming "ambush!" Without glancing at the bard he let fly as the first of the figures appeared.
Target AC 18 (including +2 for cover). Attack roll 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10

The arrow streaked towards the target, went high, sailing off into the courtyard. Syndessa turned slightly as Karth moved up behind her. She signaled to him and pointed through the gates and across the courtyard where what remains of another wall could still be seen as rubble. She made a circling motion with her hand and once more pointed at the rubble, before moving from behind the statue past Thumparr. She huged the wall and sliped unnoticed around the corner, making her way along the base of the wall until she reached the rubble strewn gap in the wall.

The druid, crouching behind one of the statues for cover, muttered a quick pray to Erastil before risking a look up at the wall. "Erastil's Blessing on all who revere the Lands."

[ooc]Bless is now in effect for all PCs expect Syndessa, who has already moved away

The grizzled dwarven warrior, Thumparr, crossbow loaded and ready, Thumparr growled, "cover me," and ran for the the statue on the right, leaning his back to it and peered around the inside of it before pivoting to the inside edge of the statue firing up at the wall.
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8 "Damn," he muttered. "Missed."

Almost simultaneously, the wall erupted with a barrage of bolts, flying down at the heroes. A clacking rain erupted as the deluge clattered against the old statues, their only casualty a grazing shot against the dwarf (-1 hp, Thumparr).

In the brief lull afterwards, Fenna sprang out from cover, firing her crossbow up at the wall to her right. 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17. Her target ducked down just a fraction of a second before the bolt. The gnome, clutching his javelin, waited for an opening.