Audsley, having gathered himself after the effects of the mutagen have worn off, swings his arms about nods to the others.
"Indeed, quoth, and most verily. I think we should explore outward in this immediate area like ripples from a pond-tossed stone. Who knows what we shall find? Haring after each and every creature whose tracks we discover will lead to certain accomplishments, but delay our gaining a mastery over the geography of the land."
He nods in what he hopes is a decisive manner, and then grins, waiting, nose scrunched up, spectacles perched before his squinting eyes.
"Well, it seems like they're already here. I'll settle for finding out if it's really Mites, and getting to know as much about them as possible: How many there are, if they've been here long, how they live. Well, everything... Then, maybe we can establish contact with them. Or not. We'll see."
She hesitates before broaching the next subject. "Emil, Janna, could we ask you to take care of giving the bandit woman a fitting burial? I'll round up what supplies the bandits had left at the camp, and see that we can take it with us. Sera, will you help me?" Franka rounds up the supply horses and begins loading them with the supplies found in the camp.
Túrante takes a quick survey of the campsite, then says, "This area should suit our needs for a base of operations for a day or so. Plenty of fresh water, firewood, good viewing positions. We might as well begin mapping the lands around here."
"Very true. Let's become familiar with the areas around the trading post so that we can always find our way back in a hurry if the need should arise," Túrante says in agreement with Janna.
After disposing of Kressle’s body and branding the surviving bandits, you spend time further exploring the area you’re in, making your first real contribution to the blank canvas that is the Stolen Lands. You note that the ford you’ve discovered here may become invaluable in crossing the Thorn River that winds through the Narlmarches here.
You do also encounter evidence that there may have been two different trios of bandits, but from the woodscraft your group possesses, it appears some of the bandits you allowed loose may have met up with them, only to disperse hastily northward in separate directions.
Desnus 4th, 4710
Returning in the direction of the Trading Post, you take more careful exploration of the surrounding land, mapping it as you travel. Towards the end of the day, you see a large single piece of natural stone that juts up to a height of 15 feet. Sera and Franka recognize the edifice as Eagle Rock, so named for the vaguely avian features it has. More importantly, however, several of the women would remember Svetlana’s request for Moon Radishes from the grove nearby!
That is perhaps easier said than done, however. As you approach the radish patch, several of you notice small draconic humanoids! All of them have short spears, though they do not seem to have been anticipating trouble, all but two are lying on the ground. They look startled and grasp their weapons!
You notice that their action seems to be purely defensive and not aggressive.
One of the startled kobolds shouts out excitedly!
”Hey, this is our patch of Ground-Roots-That-Taste-Good! You go away! Leave us alone!”
Startled and unable to speak Draconic, Audsley steps back, hand moving nervously to his bomb as he waits for someone else to interpret what's going on.
Sera takes a moment to lean toward her allies to relay a whispered message, shielding her mouth from the kobolds with her hand. "Seems like the kobolds have been gorging themselves. They would be even less of a threat than one would normally expect with bellies that full."
Turning back towards the kobolds, Sera holds up her hands as a sign of non-aggression. Though she failed to understand the language of the creatures, the young Druid still tried calling out to them in common, speaking slowly in the hopes that one of the creatures could understand her. "Please, lower your weapons. We're not here to fight."
Franka blinks at seeing the kobolds. She holds a hand up for the others to stay their weapons. Nodding at Sera's whispering advice, she adds "It's probably something bad they ate."
Like Sera Franka also holds up her hands, dropping Heimdall's reigns and making sure he keeps his calm. Like Sera she speaks very slowly, in Common. "Maybe we can help, with bad food that you ate..."
Túrante scrutinizes the small creatures but remains silent so as not to add to the confusion of the meeting.
Emil looks on from atop his horse.
"That language... sounds familliar. Can't quite place it though... Is it Azlanti?" he offers, completely clueless about the actual language being spoken. Sensing they might be intimidated and weary of the group, he dismounts flora slowly, making sure to keep his hands well away from his weapons. "So... Looks like they were eating those veggies, and my guess is it made them sick. What are those? They almost look like some kind of root-thing."
By this point, the various kobolds have risen to their feet, shaking their spears at you. A few of the more perceptive of you notice that the kobolds are moving a bit sluggish. They seem determined to defend their territory here, though they haven't made any hostile moves.
Franka puts her hands up to the kobolds, trying to indicate them to hold for a moment. She then turns to her companions. "Well, this is a pretty awkward situation. They have no idea what we're saying, and we don't even know what kind of language they are talking. We can't ask them what they're doing here, or tell them to stay out of trouble. So, we just back away slowly and hope for the best? Maybe we'll run into them again in the future, and I could study up on some languages in the meantime..."
"Let's stay out of the way and see if we can come back here later," says Túrante. "Probably not valuable to pick a fight if we don't have to. Though it does mean they'll go back to whatever home they have and tell of encountering us."
"Depends on whether we want to get into a fight with this group and whatever others might be part of their tribe, or try to establish some kind of peaceful relations. The latter will be very difficult without a common language, of course."
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"Violence is a pretty universal language. So is peace," Janna adds, dismounting and walking to the front of the group.
Making a pretty obvious show, he points his lance at the kobolds, and drops it. Likewise, discarding a shield, a longbow, his quiver, and the sword at his belt.
"Kill them if this turns out to be a really bad idea," Janna remarks to the party, laughing, before turning back to the kobolds, hands raised.
Túrante's fingers twitch slightly on the grip of her longbow. "Please be careful, Janna," she says with a look of slight worry on her face.
"Relax, he knows what he's doing and we're close by. We don't want to appear threatening, or too alert. Just a casual chat..."
The kobolds gibber in a language that none of the group understands, still looking defensive, though Janna's actions leave them glancing back and forth confused.
The kobolds further relax, lowering their spears slowly, still chattering back in forth in their language. One of the kobolds makes a motion with his spear, then draws on the ground with his spear tip. After drawing the figures on the right he gestures to the rest of the kobolds, after drawing the figures on the left he motions to you, and after drawing the arrow he makes a sweeping motion away from the clearing.
The kobolds further relax, lowering their spears slowly, still chattering back in forth in their language. One of the kobolds makes a motion with his spear, then draws on the ground with his spear tip. After drawing the figures on the right he gestures to the rest of the kobolds, after drawing the figures on the left he motions to you, and after drawing the arrow he makes a sweeping motion away from the clearing.
Pausing for a moment, he cocks his head to the side, then draws an 'X' through the arrow, and draws another set of symbols before bringing the butt of his spear to his face, making chomping motions at it. He then looks at you expectantly
At Janna's inquiry into why this particular patch of vegetables was noteworthy, Sera offered up an uneasy laugh. "Well..." The young Druid lingers on that word, mentally weighing whether or not to share Svetlana's secret. Finally, her inner rumormonger wins out and a mischievous grin crosses her lips. "Ok, so...see those radishes? They're supposed to be a fertility aid, or at least that's what the old wives' tales say. Anyways, Svetlana wanted one for...you know. Don't tell her I said that though. And definitely don't tell Oleg. He's one of those 'show no weakness' kind of guys. It'd kill him if he found out Svetlana was doing this."
Then Janna went and did something crazy. They may have been just kobolds - sick ones at that - but those spears were still spears. Completely enthralled by the display, Sera could only lean forward against the horse loaned to her and watch Janna intently, a small smile peeking out from behind her hand. She couldn't wait to see how this played out.
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Janna walks forward a few steps, arms up in a 'not armed, not hostile' pose.
As the drawing is made, Janna nods.
With (admittedly over-the-top) pantomimes, Janna does her best to convey the idea of trading for a few of the radishes.
"We'd" pointing to the group, "Like food"pointing to the radishes, then mouth, then stomach. "We have gold" pointing to the pouch at his belt (and if they don't react too hostilely, I'll pull a coin or two out, and toss one for good measure). "Then, we leave," finishing by pointing at the drawing with the arrow, nodding, motioning to the party, then in the direction the arrow points.
This would be easier if they just stabbed me, thinks Janna's inner fatalist.
Franks dismounts from Heimdall, taking care to avoid any sudden movements. She then joins Janna to stare at the drawing that the kobold had made. "He wants us to leave them alone? The house is their village, maybe, and we have to go around." She's stumped when the kobold start gnawing on his spear. "Does he mean there's a vicious animal somewhere?" She looks at the drawing again, and suddenly something clicks. "It's a sack! He means food, probably... Whatever it is they're eating now, it's not agreeing with them. So they want some decent food."
She smiles and nods at the kobold, then walks back to one of the pack horses and retrieves two sacks of provisions, mostly salted beef and dried beans. Returning to the conversation, she opens the sacks to show the contents and looks at the kobold with her eyebrows drawn far up, asking non-verbally if that's what he meant.
Franka indicates she's willing to give the kobolds the supplies, but she forestalls any attempt to take them. She points to her own group, then to the kobolds', then finally puts both her hands together in a handshake. "Friends?"
Audsley, bemused, watches from atop his pony, eyebrows raised as the kobolds and his friends engage in pantomime.
"My my," he murmurs to himself. "The forging of an alliance, perhaps?"
As Franka opens the sack with food, the kobold begins to lick around the sides of his mouth making more chomping motions. The other kobolds around him mirror him, rubbing their bellies as well as the converse in their own language. Finally he looks back and nods, extending out his small clawed hand.
"Yep-terok!" he exclaims excitedly.
The kobolds make chomping motions and rubbing their bellies once more, giving over over-emphasized wide grins. You can take a handful of the radishes, sufficient for what Svetlana asked.
Franka stores the moon-radishes in the saddlebags, then checks over the rest of the provisions. "It's probably best to head over to Oleg's. It should be nearby, and we hardly have provisions for one more day of travel. We'll need to stock up on foodstuffs, and we could do to unload the crates and equipment that we took from the bandit camp. Also, the bandit attack on the Outpost has been a couple of days now. It couldn't hurt to check up on them, see if they've had any bandit troubles since then."
"Sounds like you've got a good handle on our supplies and all that. Between that and your figuring out what the kobolds wanted..." Emil shakes his head in amazement as he mounts Flora once again. "... Anyway that was well done. I'm sure that's understating it but... Yeah, I don't have Audsley or Janna's way with words. By the way, well done dude!"
Franka waves away Emil's compliments. "It isn't that hard, really. I've spent quite some weeks on the road in barren country. After a while you get good at estimating how many supplies you need. Out of necessity, really. This is about the same, just on a larger scale."
She snickers next, remembering some awkward encounters in her past. "I also had a headstart with interpreting the drawing, you might say. I've spent some time with the Kellid tribes up North, and I wasn't quite as prepared for that as I could have been." She laughs. "You live, you learn... In the end, it's always about food."
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Audsley's stomach takes that opportunity to gurgle loudly, and he clasps both hands over his paunch.
"Ah - I, um, sorry." He smiled abashedly. "Nobody would happen to have a freshly grilled rack of ribs on them, crusted with almonds and garlic and with a balsamic reduction drizzled over it all? Anyone?"
Túrante gives Audsley a quizzical look, then says to Franka, "I think we can get back to the trading post in a day or so if we are quick about it. I can hunt and gather for additional food if we need it."
Audsley slumps slightly. "I thought not. Ah well. I'll just save that dream for later then."
Franka looks annoyed at Audsley's detailed description of a well-prepared meal. "You'd better lower your standards, Audsley, or you're going to be disappointed a lot in the coming weeks..."
That wasn't fair. It's not his fault that we're short on food. I should have checked before giving to the kobolds so freely.
"I'm sorry, Audsley, that was uncalled for,even if our supplies are dwindling. Should still be enough for the ride 'home', though. We'll be there before nightfall, if we push.There's some leftovers from yesterday, and some hard cheese. The bay pack horse, left saddlebags. Go ahead." I'll do without for a bit. The outpost isn't far off...
-Posted with Wayfinder
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"I'm not sure I'd call it a 'way with words,'" Janna replies to Emil, staving off a chuckle at Audsley's food suggestion. "It's half confidence, half self-deception. Honestly, I half-hoped they'd attack me- -a clear enemy is preferable to an unclear ally. We don't really know how many of them there are or how likely it is that they are friendly the next time we see them," Janna adds, unable to take a compliment at face value. "But, at the same time, they likely think the same. And justifiably so."
I wonder if the kobolds know who the Stag Lord is. And if they do, if he's an enemy or friend of theirs.
"There's so much about this situation that we don't know yet. It makes for a hard battle to fight," Janna posits, equal parts observation and lament. "But, for what it's worth, I think today was a victory."
Janna pauses for a moment.
"And I do agree with Audsley; we've at least earned a good dinner."
Túrante smiles at that and says, "I agree. We avoided bloodshed and we have successfully started charting these lands. Let us take a moment to recognize that we have set on a productive road."
With some vague gesturing to overcome the language barrier, you depart from the Kobolds, complete exploring the region around them, then turn back to the Trading Post. Your return trip is relatively uneventful, though as you get within sight of the Trading Post it is clear that some things have changed despite your short time away.
To the South East of the Trading Post, a picket line with a string of horses has been set up, as well as four short tents. Two men in Restovian livery come to attention as the group approaches, though they relax as Oleg and another man come out of the Trading Post. The newcomer, shouts, "At ease, men. Turning to the group he appears to take stock of you all, nods, and says, [b]"So you're the group that's made a run on the bandits here. Well, I wish you Desna's blessing. Name's Kesten Garess, and me and my boys here have been sent to deliver a message for you."
He hands over a large pouch and a parchment sealed with a red stamp embossed with a quill. The letter reads:
I have heard word that you are making remarkable strides in dispersing the local bandit population in your parts. Well done! Befitting your exemplary accomplishments, I have secured a reward and reinforcements in your pursuits. I have persuaded the Sword Lords to secure the services of Sir Garress, and he has been attached to the Trading Post to ensure there are no reprisals against it while you foray further into the Stolen Lands. He has a personal motive in the Stolen Lands as well.
Continue with the good work
-The Solicitor
Within the bag is a shining pile of gold, 600GP total.
Kesten clears his throat. "I'm not sure what all that letter said, but I'm here, at least temporarily, to act as a discouragement against further unpleasantness. Plus, I've got a bit of unpleasantness of my own to look after. You see, a traitorous ex-associate of mine named Falgrim Sneeg betrayed me and my men a few months back, leaving us in a bad way. I've managed to track him this far, but the trail has gone cold. I suspect he's joined up with the bandits here. If you manage to take him alive, I can provide you with some weaponry from an armory I have access to. I'll settle for him dead, but for less of a reward."
between Kesten and a lowborn woman named Tania, a weaver’s daughter,
became public knowledge. His father Evan, a cousin of the Garess family patriarch, disowned Kesten, who fled to Restov to serve as a mercenary.
"Weasely faced Varisian. You'll note him by a scar on his chin I gave him."
"Thank you, Mr. Garess. Is it sergeant? Lieutenant? Captain? I wish to be certain to use the proper form of address," Túrante says in response to Kesten. "Also, we haven't seen the man you've described, but we will take note."
A weary Emil whistles loudly at the sight of the mounds of gold pilled in the rather crusty-looking bag. "That's... Wow. Franka, do you figure that's enough for supplies and maybe some better gear? That's uh... Yeah. I'm going to go brush Flora down, get her some feed and rest up. We have a lot to think about and a whole lot of options. And right now? I can't even decide if I want to eat next or fall asleep. I might even do both. Just make sure I don't drown in the soup. Or in the almond balsamic drizzle with chicken. Whatever that is."
He slowly makes to go towards the stables but pauses. Falgrim Sneeg... That really a nobleman's name? Did they run out of proper names? "My apologies good sir" he adds for sir Garess's benefit, slightly turning back to look at the man "but while my mind is willing, my flesh is weak. I hope you will be willing to give us any further details sometime after first light tomorrow? If the gods are merciful I'll be somewhat presentable and capable to addressing you and your concerns in a manner that befits you."
Sera stopped in her tracks as the group passed through the gate, taken aback by the sight of the soldiers within. She was expecting the hearty and warm welcome of a gracious Oleg and Svetlana, not the cold reception that she actually encountered. Zev, on the other hand, had absolutely no objections to the added presence, the wolf trotting happily to the same spot near the dinner table that he always occupied.
The studious glance of the messenger that emerged from Oleg's home was matched by Sera, the girl crossing her arms as she sized him up. "Word travels fast. Glad that your boss is keeping such a close eye on us. Not sure if I should be flattered or insulted." At that, Sera turned around, leaving the exchange of noble pleasantries to those that had an interest in such things. Tucking the pack that Franka placed the radishes into under her arm, Sera quietly walked by the group and the trading post's newest resident, offering only a silent wave as she headed inside to speak with Svetlana.