"No!" Oleg sais exhasperatedly. "You protect Svetlana."
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Oleg steps up to the young ogre and beckons him lower so the old trader can look him in the eye. "Do you understand me boy? Will you do as you're told and protect my wife from harm?"
"What is a Ging?" Oleg's eyes flick to the Ogre. "Him? Will he mind, or will he just kill us and eat us himself?"
Oleg nods numbly at the attempted comfort. "I'm going to bed." He gently lifts Svetlana to her feet and they move into the door frame and huddle under a quilt to sleep. Soft rain begins to pelt down in sheets, dousing the smoldering flames and sending large clouds of smoke into the air.
Oleg nods sullenly. "Little good that's done..."
Dyrm scans the ground, but the amount of comings and goings has ruined any story he might discern. All he knows for sure is that no horses remain in the stable and 4 sets of hoof prints head due south.
Without looking up, Oleg rasps out a few, barely audible words. Cromwell, and anyone to pass a DC 15 perception check: "She lives. Took Oscar. Ruined: ruined..."
Svetlana wails all the louder at the sound of speaking. Oleg looks up, a dark expression on his face. "What indeed." He says bitterly. "I have not the heart to speak on it just now." Now inside the fort, it is clear that someone went through here in a hurry taking everything possible.
"You left Svetlana!? NO!" Oleg tears off with the speed of a man half his age. His water buckets scatter and the earth hungrily laps up to spilled water.
Svetlana gives hurried directions and nods that she understands the knight's instructions. In no time, Theodric has left the trading post and thundered the quarter mile to the well. Oleg looks up with a wry smile on his weathered face. "Fire in your britches boy? What's the matter?"
"I've got this." Oleg walks away into a low building and comes back with a stout length of steel topped with a dark iron ball spiked with steel points. "You want it? I can let it go for 15 dragons."
Lanya: Oleg thinks it over for a moment. "Well, I'll order what I can. You just make sure nothing bad happens in my home or I'll think twice before ordering for you again." He gives a playful wink to show he means well despite the serious message.
Lanya: Oleg frowns disapprovingly. "That doesn't sound like something I want poppin' off in my trading post. What's it for?"
Oleg smiles. "Can't fault a man for batering, just for trying it with me." He says good naturedly. "The horses go for 5 silver per day, and I add an extra charge if they ain't well groomed when they get back. If there's anything I can't abide, it's the mistreatment of animals."
Oleg looks Kern over carefully, clearly switching to a business tone. Oleg becomes as readable as a blank book. A tradesman indeed. "Horses are mine and I am happy to rent them to you at a reduced price and I will throw in the use of the tack as a thank you." "Anything you want to sell me is fine. I can give you store credit, trade, or coin if I have it. I can also order in just 'bout anything you could want, but it'll take some time so be proactive in your ordering. As far as which trade will get you more money for the item: it costs what it costs. I didn't get in this business to make friends by breakin' my rates. I'll buy at 55% market value on anything your bring me that I can use or resell. Deal?"
"Too true, Dyrm. 'Truly' is the operative word. This is why gods should judge men and not us each other."
"You want my opinion?" The aging man is apparently touched by the show of respect. He puts on his most serious face. "What are our options?"
Theodric: Bewildered at such an extensive list, but not willing to question the knight, Oleg gathers the requested supplies. "You'll be billed for anything you actually use."
Oleg nods to Theodric, then glances around, searching for the unseen voice. He shrugs and walks toward the gate. "I am here, and there are dancing girls from Qadira here too. They're on their way to the court of Brevoy. Lucky you boys came by today! If you can get it up that is..."
Oleg retreats back into the trading post.
Oleg casts a look at Theodric as if to say, "What do I do?"
"The horses the bandits'll be riding were mine." "Now what do I do again? I'm sorry but it were years since I was in the army."
"Not a bad plan sir." Oleg nods his head slowly: impressed by the level of tactics going into this. This might just work...
"I don't want the aid. I need it. The difference is my pride: foolish as it may be." He shakes his head at Dyrm's luring suggestion. "They won't fall for that. At least one is always outside the gate and they never bring their horses inside."
"So many questions!" Oleg sighs. "Where to even begin?" "I'm sure you meant no offense. I'm just not used to people trying to help me. Worse, those that have tried were so miserably incompetent that I've grown used simply not to ask." "The bandits mean business. Brutes, the lot of them. Some are probably better than others, but all have good sharp steel and seem to know how to use it." "The first time they came, there were 15. A woman led them. She was spit up from the abyss and no mistake. No demon ever had a fouler temper nor a crueler sense of humor. She nearly took my hand for no reason at all." "There was a big man with her that first time. He's led the bandits the other 3 times and he seems to favor the bow. He is quite and stupid, but he doesn't give warnings. He'll just kill you." "When they come, two generally harass Svetlana and I while two more load their horses. The big bowman sits on his horse a few paces back. He always has an arrow or two nocked." "I'm not sure about their horses, but they might be trained to combat." "All things considered, I would have fought them to the death the first time they came, but I can't leave Svetlana to their sport. I am ashamed to ask it, but I need your help to defend my wife and property." All the fight out of him now, Oleg stands with eyes downcast and shoulders slumped.
Oleg is visibly nonplussed. How do these people know so much? He lets out a deep sigh, and hangs his head. He rubs a thumb and forefinger on the bridge of his nose. "I don't know where you people get this information. I try my best to stay off the grid. I want a peaceful life, but no! I get dragged into it every time. Oleg, you old fool. Now you're in it. This time, it's the last straw." "The Ogre can stay in the stables, but if they seem him, they'll know something is up and then I'm truly in for it. And you," he points a meaty finger at Lanya. "Your sleek shape and pretty words don't do it for an old sour slurk like me. Any damages come out of your pocket our your pretty hide." "They'll be here in the mornin'. Probably 5-7 of 'em. If they saw you lot comin' they'll bring the whole set. That would not be good. The usually come on horseback, but the dismount in the yard. I will play bait if you want, but Svetlana won't be outside. Anything happens to her and I'll kill you all myself. Finally, this is my place. I built this heap and I love it. Sure I need help defending it now, but that don't mean we're partners. You better not scratch your asses without my say so. Am I understood?"
Svetlana does not seem to hear Gliadel's question from inside her home. Oleg, however, turns back. He looks at the dwarf and his eyebrows draw down. "What do you know about it?" Oleg's eyes shift to the knight. "They are. They're broken though. Don't suppose a little lordling knows how to fix one?" Finally, Oleg addresses Lanya. "Dangerous creatures to eliminate?" He puts on a mockingly pensive expression. "Ogres are pretty dangerous I hear...how is it you come to have an Ogre mercenary? Restov would never allow such a thing."
Oleg steps up as Svetlana walks away. He turns his head to watch her go,clearly puzzled. Finally he shrugs. "I am Oleg. You pay for your stay here. Sleep in tomorrow." He turns and starts to follow Svetlana.
To the knight, Oleg starts to speak, but he decides that Anga's rebuke is enough. To Anga he says: "I believe they did. I left 'em sitting on top of the wizards papers in the office."
"Nope. Oleg barely looks up from his work.
"Not for another week. Look where you are boy, not a lot a people: not a lot of trade."
"250 is all the gold I have."
"He robbed me! He threatened my wife! He and his friends cowed me and I let them! I will not stand for disrespect anymore! THIS IS MY HOME! I AM THE MASTER HERE!" The old man hurls his hammer across the room and it smashes through a barrel of quench water and clangs over a table of new made horse shoes. "Now get out of my sight and let me work!"
Oleg throws the door open and bellows. "My home, my law! Now leave me to my work before you get the same!"
Oleg's rage is burning hot and he just might mean it. Besides, can you really trust Kesten won't back the old man?
"That's fair. A clean trade it is."
"5 and 20 dragons seems fair for that piece." The old man reaches out and grabs your bicep and pats your shoulder. "A good shortbow for you? I could have in 2 weeks for 225 dragons. It would take advantage of your muscle as well. Alternatively, I could give you the shortbow from my stores as an even trade for this crossbow, but it's nothing special."
"I expect that shipment of writing utensils tomorrow or the following day."
"For the help you've rendered, I can give you what little I have. If you can end this threat permanently, I will trade for you as often as you like." Oleg shuffles away and comes back a moment later with an armload of items.
"Please, only take what you'll use. The rest I need to get my business back in the black. Also, I'm happy to buy from you if you're short on coin. If I can't afford it, I can arrange items to be sold in Restov on your behalf." "Remember though, I'll trade with you only if you can rid me of Nor's little band. I don't care if you drive them off, sleep with 'em, befriend 'em, or kill 'em. Just make sure they don't bother me and mine again."
Oleg roars and fires at a lightly armored bandit at the gate.
Oleg opens the door in the middle of sliding on his left boot. "I thought I heard hoof beats." He slams his foot into the shoe, takes up a weather beaten cross bow, and shuffles up the wall at what must be a trot for the old man.
Initiatives:
PCs Bandits
Oleg screams "Come then you sons of wolves!"
His bolt misses wide by a foot or so.
"I like you Eddric, but I will not allow Svetlana to fight. Her only cauldron is there." He points to the fire pit where a smallish cauldron holds the remnants of this morning's porridge. "If you're digging, what am I to do?"
"I will stay if you think I can be of use, but my wife will take no part in the planning and she will certainly have no part in the fighting. I am still master of this outpost, and as such, I will have my way in this Sir Eddric. Defy me at your peril." A cloudy, defiant mood sits on the old man's face and he seems deadly serious. "Svetlana, go inside." The woman moves slowly through the door and closes it behind her. Perception DC 20:
You hear the deliberately faint sound of a bolt sliding into place behind the door. The way is shut.
"I don't care what you do, but gods damn you if you don't do it well. I've not worked all my life to give up now. Leave Svetlana out of it, but if your plans need another set of hands, I will do what I can. Now you'll excuse me." Oleg and Svetlana retire to their home.
Oleg, wanting more of the story, shrugs Thaegrin off with a sharp word about the balistas, "No." He listens carefully to the account, nodding absently. When he hears of the hobgoblin, "Yes! He was one of 'em! I knew those three were foul, traitorous gits!" He hears the knight and truly goes red in the face. "What do I want!? I want every last craven bastard, cut-purse, and sneak-thief spiked to walls of this fort!"
"I do. He lives around here somewhere: not sure where exactly. He hunted the devil boar and lost a leg to it."
"HAHA! A Tatzlwyrm is the child of dragons and monsters. It is fast and mean. I want one to stuff and hang on the gate. Might make people think twice before botherin' me." Anga:
Most people are terrified of these animals and Oleg is telling the truth. Thaegrin: Go look up the tatzlwyrm on d20pfsrd.com. You win the things.
Oleg snorts. "How does anyone come to be extorted? They showed up in force with swords and bows. We are not fighters, not really. They demanded coin and goods every two weeks; their greed grew stronger with each visit, but their numbers dwindled." "The other group showed up the day before the bandits visit. The bandits we slaughtered, save for Happs Bydon: a sergeant of some kind. Happs rode away in haste and those adventurers gave chase to the west. That's all I know. It was 3 days ago now." Oleg pauses to think. "Oh yes. Life out here is peaceful and calm usually. I trade with the Rostlanders and trappers. I send goods north to Restov where I am paid in coin and other goods. It is a good system." "There are many perils hereabouts. To name 'em all would take 8 days! Hahaha! Better just keep you head down and your eyes open if you're leavin' the post. Only soul around here I trust is Svetlana, but ol' Bakken the Hermit isn't a bad guy. Makes good potions too." At Wraith's words, Oleg bristles. "Nuthin' I can do 'bout it now. is there?" His pride obviously wounded, Oleg grabs a wood axe and stalks out of the trading post in search of fire wood. Svetlana sighs.
Oleg stares blankly. "Everything? What do you mean?"
Oleg sighs and looks Eddric in the eye with a tired grin. "I know you are boy, I'm sorry to be so short. Let me get some sleep and we'll talk more in the morning."
"I want to be left alone." Oleg says sourly, sadness in his old voice. He smiles weakly at Wraith and shakes his head; No.
"Just through there." Oleg's voice is gruff and inpatient, but not unkind as he shuffles past Svetlana toward their home. He points to a small, squat structure near the stable. "That is the guest house. Now, if there is nothing left, I am very tired. Until tomorrow."
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