Oleg Leveton, NPC's page

"I'll hear none of your modesty, though I see you're a man of worth; you and your party'll need supplies at some point in the future, seeing as you'll be exploring the Greenbelt for some time. Fair is as fair does, I say, and it'd only be fair of me to offer you pay for a job well done. Speaking of which, I'll gladly purchase any gear you've claimed from the bandits, and a good rate. You've earned it, you have, the lot of you."

Oleg pushes himself up from the table, now finished eating. "And that's why I like you, Ray--you're always ready for a bit of work! There's likely some to be done here at the Post, but I'm curious if you've plans to march on Kressle's camp. I've my work here, but I'm thinking you've work out in the wilds."

After he notices the women enter the stables, Oleg picks up his plate and sits down next to Ray. "Aye, Lana's a good cook, and I'm blessed to have found such a good wife."

After shoveling a few more spoonfuls of food into his mouth, he leans to Ray, speaking in a near whisper. "Listen . . . I've a favor to ask of you, if it does you fine. I know you're young, but I suspect you might know a thing or two about the ways of men and women."

He wipes his mouth, keeping an eye on the stable door. "I don't wish to make you uncomfortable, but . . . let's just say that Lana's wanted a child for awhile, now, but I fear that the bandits' previous torments here've left her a bit . . . cold, if you ken my meaning. I'm not the best at reading my wife, but I'm thinking she blames me for not being able to protect the Post on my own."

Oleg reddens, then continues. "If you're heading to Thorn River to deal with Kressle and her lackeys, I'd like Lana's wedding ring back from them, if it's still there. I think--if I were to return her the ring I wed her with--she'd be more . . . at ease, and then we'd get to the business of starting a family."

He gives Ray an appraising look. "What say you? Would you do me this boon? I'll make it worth your while, I will." He pauses, eyes turned upwards, as if considering. "How does a thousand crowns worth of trade credit, for your party, strike you as a reward?"

Oleg begins to harness Claptrap to the cart after the executed bandits have been placed within. "Aye, I'm glad it's done. I've plenty of shovels for all who'd like to lend a hand with the planting. I'll fetch Lana when we're through, so we can all eat some well-deserved breakfast."

"What've you to apologize for? You'd not bother her by crying pardon, but she mightn't ken why." Oleg reddens slightly. "Of course, I've been told before that I'm not always in the way of knowing a woman's mind or heart, I have. I'd wager she'd like the company, if it does you fine."

Oleg smiles grimly at Malaswyn. "Aye, patience you've got more than I. After all your calm and judgment, I'll work on planting the slain, if it does you fine. Maybe the rest of them'll be less scared if we put Happs in the cart, for the time being, unless that's your aim. Care to help me with that?"

Oleg shakes his head, staring hatefully at Happs. "This one deserves a crude grave, since you're asking. Family or no, he's proven his worth in my eyes."

Oleg nods, grinning mirthlessly. "Aye, friend dwarf. I'm curious how these men answer. It remains to be seen if there's a grain of truth to them, it does."

Oleg nods to the dwarf. "Aye, Harsk. There's a hitching post just outside the stable, and lashing him to one of the ladders'll also serve you well for that."

Oleg approaches the group talking in the market yard. He has a small sack in one hand. "Beg pardon for bothering you while you're planning, but I'd see these men locked somewhere more secure than the storage pen later, if it does you fine. The sooner Lana finishes breakfast, the sooner my belly'll stop thinking for me. I've a lock I can fix on one of the stable doors; they'd not be escaping, if they're tied up tight."

He reddens and presents the sack to the group, looking at each of them evenly. "It's not much, and you've not asked for it, but I'd like you to have this. Call it a reward for your help, if it does you fine. I'll not take any nays from you, friends; I'm in the way of giving back what's given me, if you ken."

The party receives 50 gp and 3 potions: 2 cure light wounds and a shield of faith.

He smiles and extends a hand, giving each of you a firm handshake. "You've my thanks, and Lana's. I told Tityanna, but I'll tell the lot of you, too: you're welcome to stay here as long as you can stand it. I'll take no charge from you, and Lana'll keep you well-fed."

Oleg lowers his voice slightly, his tone businesslike. "Now, I've been thinking of these bandits' things. Gods know they've taken plenty from me in 'taxes', and I'd take back some of what they stole. If you're looking at any of their things to keep for yourselves, I'll say thank you and leave you to it. If there's anything you'd rather pass on, I wouldn't mind claiming it as new stock. I'd clean and fix it, I would, and sell it off to hunters and trappers when I can. Does it sound fair enough to you?"

Edited for bandits' location.

Oleg nods to Tityanna. "Aye, we've a place just north of the Post that'll do, if they're to be executed. Feel free to plant them there, if it does you fine." He pauses, looking guilty. "I'll not have you digging alone, though, Miss. I've shovels enough for us both to dig, I do."

At Tityanna's request, Oleg opens the door. Svetlana stands behind him and to his side, gripping his shoulder tightly. He nods and steps back, allowing Tityanna entrance.

"Aye, you may come in! The day is won, you say?" Without waiting for a response, he grins and pumps a fist in the air. "Gods, lass, the lot of you've done it! You have my gratitude, you do, and Lana's! You needn't worry about paying for room and food as long as you need, I say true!" He laughs with relief and joy.

Oleg stiffens, his face stony. "This is my cousin, Anna," he stammers. "Pay her no mind, as she's just stayed the night."

Oleg roars laughter and claps Ray on the shoulder. "I pray that someday you may witness the face you've just shown me, Ray Remiar! Of course I've a shovel! 'I'm gonna need to make a shovel' . . . I'll have to remember that one!"

Tears run down his cheeks, reddened with mirth, and he unsuccessfully attempts to halt his laughter. "Come now, Ray, I'll show you where we keep the shovels."

Oleg nods gravely. "How big are your hands, lad?"

Oleg crosses his arms and bows his head in thought. After a moment, he nods at Ray. "I daresay I could use another hand to help with the horses; we've not much in the way of planting here, aside from Lana's herb garden she keeps, just outside the east wall. If you've the stomach for it, I may need help shoveling manure from the stables to the middens, if it does you fine. We've a wheelbarrow to help with that."

Oleg stands and takes Ray's hand, giving it a firm shake. "Well met, Ray. As I've said, the night's free. If working's in your blood, though, and you've a wish to be busy, odds are I've some tasks around that need to be done. What business did you tend in the spring, planting or husbandry?"

Oleg offers Harsk a hard grin. "I like the way you think, friend dwarf! A bit of blood'll do much to persuade them."

Oleg nods to the paladin. "They've horses, but I can't be sure that they've trained to fight on them. Mostly, they've used the horses to haul our furs, from what I've seen."

"Aye, I'd see them hung . . . I'd hang their corpses from the southern palisade, as a warning to other bandits, if I have my way. They must pay for their crimes."

He glowers, then softens as he gives Svetlana another warm look.

"At any rate, you'll not pay for room and board tonight, if you'll help us tomorrow morning. I've just fixed the guesthouse roof, so you should have a dry sleep."

Oleg pats Svetlana's hand, bringing it to his lips. He pulls her closer to him, and she rests her head upon his shoulder.

"As Lana said, they were a dozen strong the first time they came. The hooded man's been here all three times, but 'Kris-or-Kres' only the first. Come Calistril, it was only him and a half-dozen men; come Pharast, him and four. They're thinking they've nothing to worry about from the likes of us, I'd wager, so they've been sending less of themselves over the months. If my figuring's still true, maybe they'll be even less in number, and without that wicked hatchet-woman."

Oleg, downcast, nods meekly. "Aye, Lana. I'll treat them with the respect they've earned."

He scratches his chin, clears his throat, and places his hands upon the table. "I can tell you how it was, and how it is now. The bandits showed up in Abadius, during a lull in the snows. At first I thought they were trappers or hunters I'd not met, but it didn't take long for them to let it be known what they were after. Aye, they wanted all the furs we'd gathered in trade, and said they'd burn down the fort and take Lana for . . . their use . . . if I didn't give them what they wanted."

Oleg continues to speak, with a less halting cadence. "We gave them the furs--I was afraid for Lana, don't you ken?--and they left us well enough alone, at least until the first of the next month. They've come three times, in all, always at the month's first day, within an hour of sun's rise."

Oleg rubs his hands together, his elbows propped up on the table, and then stammers: "I've been ungracious, and I'm ashamed of my deeds. I'd be grateful for any help you can give."

He glances at Tityanna and flushes. "I was mean to you, lass, and I beg your pardon. I . . ." He lets the end of his apology trail off. He crosses his arms and looks away.

Oleg turns his glare to Haldaval, breathing heavily through his nose. He looks him up and down, fists clenched, but says nothing for half-a-minute. Finally, with another withering glare at Tityanna, he unclenches his fists. Throwing his hands in the air, he swears loudly in Hallit and storms away toward the main house.

Oleg pushes back from the table and stands, his bench scraping against the ground. He glares at Tityanna, his teeth clenched. "If you're done cleaning your nails, lass, I'd have you answer something for me. Are you saying you haven't been sent to deal with our problem? Is that the long and short of it?"

The middle-aged man walks in from the gate, giving each of you a glance as he passes. He grabs one of the bowls Svetlana had prepared and takes it to the far table, where he sits and begins to eat. After a few bites, he looks up at the party, his face unreadable.

"I'm Oleg, if you've not already kenned it. Lana's been hospitable, no doubt, so can you fill my ears with your plan as you've filled your bellies with her cooking?"