"My, oh my, we're sorry for your loss, holy warrior. I am Lana, Oleg's wife, and cook here at the Trading Post. Perhaps some food in your stomachs and you can tell us all what happened."
Virgil smiles, "That would be greatly appreciated, dear madame." He turns to his companions and whispers,
Hooking his hammer back onto his back, he wearily walks towards the gates, hands to his sides in friendship.
"I...wha..." Garyn stammers, at a loss for words. "I didn't realize that there were more men given the charter as we were. We also received a similar charter. We're..." Garyn trails off and looks in the direction of Cale.
"I should let Master Surtova here speak. I've forgotten me manners."
At Virgil's mention of a charter, Silstaren smiles and laughs to himself. Such confidence the lords of Restov have in us to send five more. At least Oleg has welcomed them. There will be no fighting.
Silstaren glances at Cale nil Surtova. He may need some time to gather himself. The elf lets his hands fall freely to his sides. "On behalf of Master Surtova, leader of our band and holder of a similar charter, let me add our welcome to Oleg and Lana's. This is Garyn Nighteye. I am Silstaren. Let me help you in. Lana makes an incomparable stew that empties one of cold and fills the belly. Let us talk over bread and meat."
"Nighteye, eh?" Garyn chuckles, putting a hand on his elf friend's shoulder. "A nickname like that from one of the fair-folk...I'm moving up in the world! Aye, it's a rare pleasure, I'm sure. Come on in out of this cold and we can tell ye what we know. More like-minded folk will make this rough business that much smoother."
The red bearded dwarf gets down from his grey.
Out comes the small anvil and hammer holy symbol on a background of flames, "now we be 'ere give us some healing."
"Come on Mabe. You first then stew for me."
After that he leads the horse in looking for stables, then he heads to them and starts tending to his animal.
Cale takes his hand from his blade, bowing his head in smooth acquiescence. "Cale will do fine for now. Where did you fellows get your charter from? If our goals are the same, I'd enjoy the extra company since we just lost two of our own. As Silstaren has said, I'm from the Surtova family. My father lost his life to bandits in this area and that was what motivated us to begin this little adventure of colonization. What brings you here? If it's the promise of riches..." Cale gestures to the meager trading post, "you may have made a wrong turn somewhere." The noble's smile is accomodating. Cale has always been impressed with the following of Abadar. His churches were banks, his holy men financiers and strong contributors to society. Other churches were crooks, but at least Abadar was open about taking a man's money, and at least Abadar put it to good use!
Virgil accompanies them inside, pulling off his sodden cloak and backpack and leaning his maul against the wall behind him. He sits wearily and nods to Oleg and Lana, "Thank you, again, for your hospitality. May the Lawgiver smile upon you for your charity." After a few drinks of water to clear his throat, he begins, "I have been traveling for, how long is it? Must have been close to a year now. I started in Skywatch near the Icerime Peaks, journeying south, and arrived in New Stetven. I contacted an old friend of the family, looking for employment. It turns out that a rash of adventurers and surveyors were being commissioned by the Swordlords to go into the southern Stolen Lands to tame it. Personally, I think it is a handy way of getting rid of idle roughnecks and redundant nobles. But as they say, waste not, want not. My companions and I received our charter and explored to the southeast of here. We must have missed an ill omen, because our first action in the wilderness left two of our members dead, skewered by monstrous man-spiders riding giant vermin. We trundled our way here."
He takes a few bites of bread and ponders for a moment, "Does your party only number three as well? Perhaps it would be prudent to band together." After a pause, he smiles and adds, "As equals, of course."
"You're too sweet, Sistaren, talking about my cooking like that. My stew is fine and it will warm your stomach on this cold day. Please inside, all. Oleg, show the dwarf where he may house his mare."
Oleg directs Zennor to the stables, where the rest of the party's horses are resting. After that, he accompanies the newcomers inside and gets an extra chair from his bedroom. "Please please, make yourself at home. Now, what's this about 2 charters? And someone mentioned something about spiders? Do tell. Personally, hate those nasty critters."
Virgil turns to Oleg, "I personally do not know if there were two or twenty charters. There were handbills tacked on taverns and churches, looking for rough and ready men seeking adventure and glory and all that. I was interested in avoiding becoming an idle wastrel, so I contacted a militia captain. Two days later I was met by a minor bureaucrat at the city gates, who handed me a slip of paper," he pats his belt pouch, "and told to find myself companions if I wished to live long. I met Mr. Sanjust and Mr. Braddock standing outside the gates as well. It felt rather hurried, honestly. I believe that was the generally feeling among the populace as well, because everyone who heard of my intentions laughed and pronounced it folly." The paladin shrugs his shoulder, "And yet, here I am."
Lana cries out, "Man-spiders on giant vermin?! How terribly awful! We are sorry for the loss of your friends. Perhaps it would be best if you warriors banded together, at least for safety." She proceeds to fill up the bowls of any of the party members still hungry. The stew is great and fills you up with a warm feeling inside.
Oleg speaks, as he takes a bite of his stew. "How far away were these spiders? Just so I can tell the trappers and hunters that pass by. Have to watch out for the common folk makin' a livin' in these woods."
Virgil's smile falls slightly, "The spiders are roughly six miles southeast of here. It is not impossible to clear them out, they simply caught us in an ambush. Some forewarning, good archery, and fire for their webs would certainly make it easier."
Silstaren marks Virgil as a man to talk to about the lands eastward, but that conversation can wait. For now he chooses to echo Oleg, "Tell us about these spiders that attacked you. How many, and how large? And why were you southeast of here? The easiest road from New Stetven runs through Restov to our north?"
Virgil pushes his plate away and speaks while retrieving some paper from his belt pouch, "There were two brown spiders and two black spiders with riders. Giant beasts, about the size of a good pony. The riders were tall man-shaped creatures with spider faces that spat webs. Nasty things."
He unfolds the MAP on the table and points with his finger, "We came south from Restov along the main road. We initially saw Oleg's and tried to visit, but our gracious proprietors must have been out on a chore or errand because the front gates were closed and locked. We decided to do some exploring then try again in a few days. We came across the spider ambush here, approximately six miles southeast." The paladin sighs, "And unfortunately, that is all that we have to show for half of our party dying. What have you explored?"
"Ay, yes, Virgil speaks the truth. We locked our gates after Happs and his men were killed, while Cale and his men were out, fearing a reprisal from the bandits."
Zennor sits and eats a dwarvish portion of stew, listening to Virgil talk about the fight. Then he belches politely in thanks and nods to Lana.
Getting up, Zennor goes to walk the walls taking a keen interest in the catapults he had noticed on the way in.
Oleg stares at the dwarf as he leaves his home without saying a word. Once he is gone, he says, "That dwarf sure is a strange one, he's quiet....too quiet. Where'd you dig that one up, Virgil?"
Virgil smiles as his reticent companion walks out the door, "Mr. Sanjust is a good and loyal companion, as well as a devoted cleric of Torag. But, like many who are well-versed in natural law, he is a bit socially distant. Combine that with his dwarven heritage and you get a very, very introspective person." He turns back to his host with a chuckle, "But you know what they say about engineers, right? The introvert engineer stares at his shoes, while the extrovert engineer stares at your shoes."
The idea of traveling with the newcomers lost much of its luster almost immediately. "Equals. Right. I'll have to check with my idle roughnecks before we make any decisions on that account."
"Hmm? Oh, no offense is intended, Mr. Surtova. 'Roughnecks' are some of the most resourceful and determined individuals I have ever met. I worked in the mining business prior to my travels and our most valued and dependable associates I would describe as roughnecks. Polish does not hold a candle to substance." Virgil smiles and takes another drink, "As for idle, well, that simple means 'ready for adventure."
"I care not for the charter. You may settle that as you please. And I've been called worse than roughneck though seldom justly. I take no offense."
"As for what we've explored -- nothing really. We know the track to the local bandit lair. Dealing with them was our first order of business. We have a few weeks before the area's bandit chieftain, known by the pretentious name the Stag Lord realizes we've eliminated one of his bands. So a fight is in the offing. "
"We were planning to start with the lands around Oleg's post and widen our exploration gradually. Maybe we should amend the plan to hunt these spiders first."
Virgil nods, then takes a piece of chalk from his belt pouch and looks expectantly at the elven ranger, "Well, Mr. Silstaren, where can I put that bandit lair on the map?"
He turns to the rest of the group, "Or anyone, really."
"The camp was a long day's ride east of here, but it was little more than a lean-to and a firepit amidst the trees. Hardly worth mentioning on your map."
Virgil nods with a smile, "That is good to know. For our purposes, I believe that areas free of dangerous inhabitants should interest us the most! I hope we find many more just like that."
The catapults are in a state of disrepair and broken down.
Virgil sketches a few shapes onto the parchment and makes a small notation on the MAP. "There, that should do it. We would greatly appreciate your assistance in dealing with these monsters. We cannot allow these creatures to impede our works." He reaches down and rubs the stone pendant around his neck and absent-mindedly says to himself, "Savagery must be quelled, in the land, home, and mind." He looks back up, "Shall we wait until tomorrow? It would give us a chance to rest and replenish before facing them."
Oleg smiles and says, "Going after these spiders, huh? Then you may need some antitoxin. I think I got a couple of vials laying around here. Sell them to you for a good price? How's 90 gp for both? Best deal you'll ever find."
... He looks back up, "Shall we wait until tomorrow? It would give us a chance to rest and replenish before facing them."
"We were planning on resting here today anyway. If we start early we should still be able to pick up the trail."
***
Oleg smiles and says, "Going after these spiders, huh? Then you may need some antitoxin. I think I got a couple of vials laying around here. Sell them to you for a good price? How's 90 gp for both? Best deal you'll ever find."
Silstaren smiles at the merchant's enthusiasm for the sale, "Oleg, you are a wonder. That would be most welcome. I'll take both for now. I'm sure the others to pay me back."
Later Silstaren will ask if anyone wants to chip in.
***
Calvin sits huddled, ... "Directions to the camp, you say? That'd be easy. Follow our horses' trail east into the woods, you can't be missin' 'em, we took no care to hide 'em. Did not expect to find you here after all! Then head south to the Thorn River, then follow its bank to our campsite, a stone's throw from the river's north bank. ....
Cale and Garyn:
Still unclaimed in the party kitty:
* 2 Masterwork Handaxes: 612g (306) (DO you want to sell them? Silstaren is not interested. )
* 16 days of trail rations
* 40 Arrows: 2g (1g)
* 2 Potions of Cure light wounds (Cale claimed one. Garyn would you rather Cure light or shield of faith?)
* Potion of Shield of Faith +2
The paladin nods, "That sounds fine. We could all chip in and reserve it for when someone gets hit." He turns to Oleg, "You wouldn't happen to have a few extra beds available, would you? I feel like I could sleep for a week!"
The catapults are in a state of disrepair and broken down.
Zennor goes to find Oleg when he has finished talking and eating.
"Your catapults have rusted and two have bent flanges in their recurves. I can mend them with tools. Well?"
The paladin nods, "That sounds fine. We could all chip in and reserve it for when someone gets hit." He turns to Oleg, "You wouldn't happen to have a few extra beds available, would you? I feel like I could sleep for a week!"
Oleg looks at Virgil and says, "We have a guesthouse, where the others have been staying. I have some bedrolls, if you don't mind the floor. I know it's not befitting one of your title, but Lana and I did not expect company."
Zennor goes to find Oleg when he has finished talking and eating. "Your catapults have rusted and two have bent flanges in their recurves. I can mend them with tools. Well?"
Oleg smiles, "Ah, the dwarf speaks! Those catapults have been broken down for years, since I bought the place. If you'd like to try and fix 'em, help yourself. I have some mallets and spikes and nails. Will that help you?"
Don't mind me, just posting for the dot. See you all in a few.
Oleg looks at Virgil and says, "We have a guesthouse, where the others have been staying. I have some bedrolls, if you don't mind the floor. I know it's not befitting one of your title, but Lana and I did not expect company."
Virgil waves away Oleg's modesty, "Please, Oleg, service and sacrifice befit my title, not a cushy bed. Is there anything I can do for your family? If not, I believe I could be of use to Mr. Sanjust as he repairs your siege equipment."
Zennor doesn't smile back. His eyes darken and twitch a little then he spins on the spot and turns towards the barn and tools.
"Hmmph!" is the only sound he makes as he walks off.
Soon everyone can hear the dwarf working away at the first of the catapult, whistling happily to himself. The hammering and clanking seems almost musical as he spends most of the afternoon at play.
But at around five o'clock, Zennor takes out his holy symbol and prays for a long time, kneeling over the dismantled catapult, mumbling to Torag, the God of Catapults.