Aldarion remains speechless as he stabilizes and works his healing remedies on the survivors. Though zenlike in his efforts, he is clearly deeply troubled by the loss surrounding them.
As the healer brews his concoctions and feeds healing berries to the wounded, he ponders the words of his companions.
"I will check the ground, for signs of Svetlana and Jhod, or anyone else who may have fled. We can question the survivors." Shaking his head, "If they were taken, I say we try to rescue them. But this bandit lord, I expect he'd kill all of us when we arrive, Svetlana, Jhod, and us four, so to rescue them we'll have to improvise a way to get in and out of his camp without detection."
Giving another sip of healing remedy to one of the survivors, a look of determination comes over his face.
"When they're safe, then we can deal with this Stag Lord. Once and for all."
...
Aldarion will spend the rest of the day helping gather the bodies, including taking Oleg down, and digging graves.
"So far we have faced the Stag Lord's henchmen in small groups. This place was manned and defended. To take it, the Stag Lord must have many and more than we've seen. What are we going to do against that kind of force? If they are prepared for us, we will be slaughtered."
Connor begins the grizzly work of cutting down Oleg and burying the dead. You find the bodies of eight Rostland soldiers and a dozen bandits. Several of the redeemed bandits whom allied with you are among the dead.
Jax stands by Ezekial's side as the rogue looks on over the destruction. "They say the Stag Lord ain't human. They say he's possessed by the dark spirits that he worships. I ain't ever talked to him, but I've felt his evil when he's close. And I've seen his evil when he kills like this. Many of his men ain't much better. Anyway, I'm a dead man now that I'm with you, but I ain't going to die without a fight. Maybe we can help you."
Seres drags the survivors under the shelter of a tree outside of the fort while Aldarion prepares several potent herbal remedies. With the aid of his divine healing, the druid is able to slowly bring both of the surviving women back to consciousness...
"Urrrhhh..." the woman who was clutching the holy symbol of Erastil comes to consciousness with an "unladylike" growl and a bit of drool. Her bruised eyes flicker over the party. She moves slowly to raise a hand and push unruly black hair out of her eyes. Her broad jaw flexes slightly with tension and her head nods momentarily with fatigue.
"You must be the sellswords that Oleg mentioned," she says in a slightly coarse voice.
Pain, shooting down her left arm snaps Larisa awake as a trail of berry juice dribbles down one cheek. Almost immediately her face contorts in pain as her right arm fumbles with the straps of her armor, ripping off the chest piece to reveal the broken shaft of an arrow lodged in her left shoulder. The other arm holds her crossbow limply, a bolt still loaded in the grove.
With a tortured gasp she slips her fingers into the wound and digs out the arrow head, a river of bright red blood staining her undershirt.
"Berry." She says breathlessly, not waiting for permission as she grabs a couple from the old elf above her, cramming them into her mouth. Like magic the wound closes up and her breathing settles down to a normal pace. "Much obliged stranger, I guess I owe you my life." She says, taking a couple seconds to re-strap her armor stretch her arm, unloading her crossbow as she takes in her surroundings.
Wordlessly she stands, her eyes darting around as her free hand twists into a fist. For a moment it looks like she's torn between crying and shouting, but as quick as it comes it goes and she shoulders her weapon.
Poor souls didn't deserve this. She thinks to herself as she watches Oleg be taken down from his perch. "You were their friends weren't you," She says look over to the elf. "They said you were good people, trying to help out however you could. I'm sorry I couldn't do more to help them, I only knew them for a couple days but..."
Her voice falls away as she just shakes her head. "They didn't deserve this, any of it. They didn't deserve to be stabbed in the back like they were. If there is anything I can do to help, let me know."
After searching the grounds of the trade post carefully, the sage gets up from his knees with an arthritic wince, brushes dirt off of them, and reports to the other agents.
"Well. I reckon there were well over twenty more who lived to leave this trade post. Many were riders, and they left a trail heading south, as expected."
He shakes his head. "We need help."
The sage heads back to the two wounded survivors to revive them...
...
Veronica's eyes first land upon a nearby middle-aged man in a simple tan cloak and brown boots. Where the cloak does not cover his upper chest, his green shirt of quality silk peeks out. He is half-elven, obvious by the combination of his distinguishing ears and thin goatee. The pungent and aromatic scent of herbal poultices and remedies lingers strongly in the air.
The healer's head turns towards her. Soulful and intelligent brown eyes make meaningful contact with hers. Bearing the calm visage of an enlightened sage, he greets you with a slight bow, hand respectfully held over his chest. In a soothing baritone, "Aldarion, at your service. Now, take it easy. Don't get up too quickly..."
Aldarion turns to see the other woman rip yet another arrowhead out of her body. He is happy to calmly oblige her request for healing berries, and is about to repeat his medical advice when she preempts him by getting right up and at it.
The sage responds to Larisa, "Indeed. Perhaps there is. The Stag Lord, the one who commanded all this," he gestures to the slain bodies as they are being collected for burial, "claims to have taken two hostages, good people who need our help. Svetlana and Father Jhod will be killed if we do not rescue them."
Seres nods to the women as they come to, offering a warm smile that does not quite reach the saddened overcast in his eyes. "I am Seres Feyblood. My companions are Aldarion here; the knight errant is Connor, and the other half-elf is Ezekial."
"And who are you? You came into the camp a few days ago?"
"My name is Larisa," She replies, nodding back at Seres. "Staglord? Well that explains why he was wearing that stupid thing." She says, rubbing her shoulder. "I came into the camp only two nights ago from Brevoy. Looking for shelter and perhaps some honest work, I'm a good shot so Oleg tasked me with some hunting. They talked about you alot, fine group of people, upstanding men they said. The bandits you bought back though, they weren't very talkative. Guess they didn't want to connect to anyone before raiding the camp. Harder to kill some you like. I. I was on watch when it happened. The bandits came during the night, one of your converts opened the gate I heard them call out to him. Man named Jare, after that the rest of your reformist lot turned on the guards. We didn't stand much of a chance after that. I tried, I really tried to to do something but I'm not good in close quarters combat. We were over run, the Staglord leading the charge, he's the one who shot me. Last thing I bloody recall is that stag helm of his staring at me down the shaft of an arrow." Larisa rants for a bit, getting it out of her system before taking a deep breath, from the carnage around her you can tell the battle was desperately fought and that she's glossing over the gory details. "Sorry, I'll help you anyway I can. Bandits can't be allowed to get away with crimes like this.
Connor stops digging as Larisa speaks about the assault having not taken the time to come introduce himself, yet. Face reddened with rage, he clutches the shovel and stalks over toward Jax and the other bandits and grabs the bandit by the hair dragging him over toward the grave he was digging.
"Guess there isn't any such thing as a repentant bandit. LIE IN YOUR HOLE! If this is how our mercy is repaid, then I guess there won't be any anymore, starting with you lot. We'll throw your friends on top of you, worm. Untrustworthy scum."
If no one stops him, he will throw Jax in the grave and begin shoveling dirt on him.
"My name is Veronica," says the rustic woman. "I arrived here very recently - I only got into the post about an hour before the attack. I was settling business with Oleg when the Stag Lord and his men arrived."
She slowly gets to her feet and checks her garb - fitted leather armor with small metal rivets. Apparently satisfied - if nobody stops her - she re-assembles her possessions (or at least, she claims that they are hers); most noteworthy are a well-stocked backpack of thick leather with strong joinings and reinforced stitching; a recurved bow made of laminated layers of sinew and wood, with a twisted string and twine-wrapped handle; and a large round shield of ash-colored wood with a reinforced edge and a meticulously-inlaid engraving depicting the symbol of Erastil.
"I am an ordained priestess in the service of Erastil," she continues. "I came here to minister to the people of the frontier." She looks morosely at the corpses. "Clearly they will need much more help than simple sermons."
As Connor drags Jax towards the hole Larisa jumps in front of him, arms raised. "Ser Connor, I know you're feeling angry, hurt," She says, holding her hands out palm first in a placating gesture. "I don't blame you for wanting to take your rage out on these men. You have every right but I'm going to say a few words and if you still want to kill that man at the end of it then I wont stop you."
"Back in Brevoy I worked with a group of rangers to keep the roads free of banditry. During my time with them I learned a lot about what makes men like this tick. For most of them they took to this life out of desperation, poor men with no other means to support themselves. And once they take to this life they see no other way out, to them they signed their death notice the first time they took a life to make bread. So they live and fight till they die, no hope to see old age, retreating into the wilderness."
"Out here, strength makes law, and men like the Stag Lord capitalize on that. They gather men to them, by force of personality or arms, telling them that they are free men. Liberated from oppressors, free from laws and responsibility. And men like that," Larisa says, pointing at Jax "Eat it up because if they believe it hard enough, they can forget what they've done. They need to believe it because it lets them ignore the truth, gives them a reason to exist. It gives them a community of other men like them, but inside they all know it's all built on a lie. They just traded the law of their lord for the law of a tyrant, and they don't see anyway out. They've cut themselves off from their families and communities, they feel like they've burned all their bridges. Either they're killed by the law men, or they're killed by their 'comrades'."
She stops to breath, taking a few steps forward. "What we learned, out in the wilds, was that men like this respond to strength. And for what it's worth the few words I got out of the bandits here, they did look up to you. They mentioned the troll slayer, how you could crush a troll's skull between your hands. I don't doubt they when they talked to you they were eager to repent, and when you bought them back here they were probably eager to escape their past. But when the Stag Lord came, you weren't here. And faced with certain death at his hands, or possible death from the guards, they did what men like them always do. They took any chance for survival they could."
Gingerly she places a hand on Connor's shoulder. "Mercy and redemption are fleeting things out here, but if you discard them...that's the first step on same path men like them take."
She holds her hand there for a moment, giving the hard muscle a squeeze. "If you still want to kill these men, at least do it proper. By sword, or rope." Larisa says, giving a meaningful glance over to where Oleg was hung.
The two other bandits draw their weapons as Connor grabs Jax by the hair and begins dragging him. Jax resists being pulled but doesn't fight back. "The woman speaks truth. Leaving the Stag Lord ain't no simple thing. Here, the Stag Lord is the law - not you law giver. You want 'em to repent then you better prove that you are the true lord of these woods. Otherwise, if left alone, these men will revert to the animals that they are. The Stag Lord's presence is a siren call that these beasts cannot resist. I feel it myself - always have. Don't you see? The Stag Lord doesn't rule these lands - he is the land! You want to tame these woods, then you got to kill the man who is the dark heart of the forest! Do that and the men will follow you. But you ain't going to do it by yourself. You ain't going to do it with just those three. You're going to need help. You may not like me, but I'm the only chance you have to get into that fort alive!"
The bandits look expectantly at Connor with their weapons ready.
Veronica puts her shield back over her shoulder and watches the interaction between Connor and Jax carefully (though she may not even know their names).
Having spent much of his life alone in the woods, the middle-aged hermit had learned much about solitude. Silence was his greatest teacher. He learned to be patient, to be self-sufficient, and perhaps most of all to be at one with the way of the natural world. Sometimes, he would meditate from the time the moon rose to the time it set. And for him, gardening and planting greenery was a meditation in and of itself.
Aldarion knew how to quell existential dissatisfaction, to have more with less, and to hear the song of nature in his heart and mind. But perhaps he had been alone for too long to understand how to quell the problem of lawless banditry in this realm.
"We were naive, Connor," Aldarion speaks up after the sniper speaks her mind. Standing now with his gnarled staff in hand, he thinks they might be fortunate to have found her assistance, someone who seems to have a better handle on the causes of banditry, and therefore a handle on how to best it.
He continues speaking to Connor, but also for everyone's benefit. "Blame yourself if you must. get it outof your system if you truly care though, and I know you do. The true blame falls upon the Stag Lord. But more importantly, you must release your guilt, my friend, for it will only serve to fuel your rage, which will only get us all killed in the end. We must respond with strength, but it must be a cool and directed strength. We need a careful plan, a sound strategy for defeating this enemy. To fall under the sway of fiery rage and rampage is ultimately self-defeating."
"Perhaps we can persuade the kobolds to ally with us," he adds, letting that hopeful thought linger in the air. Before continuing to strategize though, he waits patiently to see if and how Connor continues to react... or if he responds more reasonably.
Still clutching Jax's hair, Connor points the shovel at the newcomer, "Larissa, is it? It's a convenient excuse to say that they are hopeless and that their actions are someone else's fault. I get that not all men have the backbone to put up to tyranny. But to actively support it is raw cowardice. I fell in with bandits once myself as a homeless kid, but as soon as I saw what their tactics were I left. I have no use for me who have no internal compass, no morality."
Her interruption, however, takes affect and slows his hot rage a touch. He releases Jax shoving him back a couple feet and then throws the shovel into the captured bandit's arms. "Get to work then and start making up for what your companions did. And you two," he indicates the bandits brandishing weapons. "Put those away before you hurt yourselves. They didn't serve you well earlier this week, they won't help you now. Find a shovel and help Jax."
He turns to stalk off until Aldarion's words stop him in his tracks. He quavers for a moment and then collapses to sit on a nearby crate, head in his hands, "Ahhh, Aldarion ... we left them here to die ... Zeke knew! He told us! And I ignored him. We have to make it right somehow. I want so badly to ... just ... do something!" The cavalier grasps the empty air repeatedly his off hand straying to the melted ring hanging on a leather thong around his neck.
Seeing Connor stalk off, Larisa goes to, retrieve her gear from where she stashed it and helps the bandits with their digging.
After hours of hard digging, the bodies are interned in fresh graves with make shift head stones. With the help of the former bandits and the two survivors, a new cemetery is formed on the south side of the fort - near the budding vegetable fields that Lt. Garess helped to clear and plow. Jax, glistening with sweat and caked with dirt, turns to Aldarion and Veronica, "Ain't you going to say some words or something for the dead?"
After inspecting the buildings, you find that the gatehouse is burned out and reeking of smoke, but is still largely functional. To your surprise, much of Oleg's stores remain intact. Connor finds the masterwork lance and military saddle that he ordered over a week ago within the store room.
The day advances to evening. You make use of the ample stocks within the cellars to prepare a hearty dinner. Jax taps a surviving pony keg of ale and fills mugs for each of you. As you sit eating and drinking over the blackened table, you begin to strategize about the days ahead.
"Anyone seen a panicked horse?" asks Veronica as the group starts to set about cleaning up. "Mare, sandy colored, saddlebags with some of my gear."
Once the dead are buried, she performs a short service.
"Erastil, these people died in your domain - here, where civilization meets the savage boundary. In this border space, they gave up their lives in that struggle to carve out a niche from the violence of the wild. We ask only that you fulfill your promise and give to each of them that which they so richly deserve."
She spears Jax with her gaze and says evenly, "Your problem is the same as with so many bad men: You blame all of your faults on someone else. It's not your fault, it's the Stag Lord. It's the rules of the River Kingdoms. It's the nature of Man. Well, the mere existence of people who do not live that way gives the lie to your excuses. You may raise your hackles at being judged, but ultimately only you can decide what will form the basis of how you are judged. Craven or courageous? Huckster or hero? Thief, fraud, sneak, or someone who is actually worth time? Until you accept your part in this drama you aren't going to get any respect. I can already hear you complaining that I don't even know you and I'm misjudging you. Well, until you're able to shoulder your part, you will never understand why we do what we do. So you can ignore us or hate us or say it's not fair but you won't be part of the community until you are ready to fight for it."
And with that, she's back to cleaning the ashes and sorting through the remaining supplies.
Following Veronica's prayer and speech to Jax, Connor nods and makes the sign of Erastil, returning to his labor.
He continues to watch the ex-bandits with suspicion, though.
He will recover his gear and arise early to prepare the horses for the journey to Thorngap.
; fail
; likely fail
; success!
Seres sips at the ale politely, but does not appear to enjoy it. "I am still concerned we have no real way to confront the Stag Lord. He is expecting us... any direct assault would be suicide. I wish to avenge our fallen as much as any, but do not see the point in adding our corpses to the pile. The charter is fine and all, but dead men spend no gold. Shall we call it off and go find safer pastures?"
Jax takes a long draw from his ale and then smiles grimly at Seres. "Aye, a direct assault is what he wants. But there be other ways."
He etches two curved lines on the table that converge in a irregular circle. "The Thorn and Skunk Rivers both flow to the Tuskwater. As with the rest of the Riverlands, the rivers are the key to the Greenbelt - both for the freshwater and for, more importantly, transportation. The Stag Lord expects an overland attack, but you may be able to slip through his pickets on the water."
He now draws a "X" a "B" and a "C". "X is where we are. East of here is B, where the hermit Bokken lives. Bokken brews a potent herbal liquor that the Stag Lord swills every waking hour that he's not out pillaging. We routinely purchase regular orders from Bokken and then transport the liquor to C, which is the Thorn River Camp. From there it's either transported overland during the dry months, or, when the water is high enough, its transported via river using canoes. This time of year the rivers are flush with melting spring snows so they're high enough. In fact we took three canoes up the river to the camp when we were looking for you - the canoes should still be there. With a little subterfuge, and our help of course, you all can pass off as bandits transporting the boss's liquor."
Jax draws a SL on the northern edge of Lake Tuskwater and draws a square around it. "The fort has walls and battlements that are guarded with archers." He pauses and looks at you with fear in his eyes. "The grounds outside of the walls are haunted. You dare not stray from the path that leads to the front gate - which is guarded and trapped. But, there is also a back gate on the lake side of the fort. This is the service door where food and supplies are brought when they arrive on barges from across the lake - or from upriver. There is a safe foot path that leads from the docks to the rear gate. Nobody watches that path!"
Jax now plunges his dagger into the SL where is stands quivering on the table. "The dock guards use a password to access the door. When you knock, the guard behind the door will say 'Who goes there?' and you say ‘By the Bloody Bones of St. Gilmorg, who wants to know?’ - and they open the door. That will get you into the fort. From there, the rest is up to you."
Larisa scans the map, ideas forming in her head. After a moment she taps B. "I have a few ideas, first we need to contact this hermit and intercept the latest shipment of liquor. We'll transport it to the camp over river disguised as bandits as Jax suggests. However we should potion it first, something potent like arsenic." She pauses, tracing the river with a finger idly as she thinks. "We should also do some hunting, get some game, that should provide us enough of a cover. Aldarion, you mentioned Kobolds? If we can get them on our side we can use them as reinforments, smuggle them in barrels."
"We are just going to accept this bandits word for it, eh?" Connor, who isn't drinking this evening, stabs a knife in Jay's direction.
"Seems to me we could be in a helluva predicament if they know we are coming on canoes which are conveniently available for us or if we give them a password that calls up an ambush. I want this subterfuge to work, truly. But how are we to trust these cutthroats?"
Connor neither speaks softly nor hides his disdain in front of Jax and his men.
"Seres, if you want to cut and run, I won't hold you back. But Oleg's dead eyes will follow me for life if we don't try and get some sort of justice for the old trader."
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At Connors words Larisa looks over at Jax. "Well how about it, can we trust you're not lying?"
"It's not a bad plan," says Veronica appreciatively. "Jax would be in the boats with us. He'd die too if they decided to shower the boats with arrows and sink them. And I think Jax wants the Stag Lord ended as much as we do."
Compassionate eyes meet Connor's. "We will make this right, my friend. We'll have our chance, soon enough. But let's take a deep breath or a few for now, collect our thoughts, and approach our next move with care to ensure we succeed."
Aldarion nods his head as Veronica recites her prayer for the dead.
Later during dinner, Aldarion is pretty quiet, observing and listening as Jax speaks. He does raise a brow as Jax speaks his ideas about an indirect assault and of the Stag Lord's brew. Larisa seems to read his mind, however, and speaks the same thought before he can.
"Or spider venom, perhaps." The sage looks at Zeke knowingly.
He then looks at Connor, apologetically, "I know, you don't like it. But consider, it may save our lives."
He shakes his head, "You're right to be skeptical, Connor. We have no reason to trust these men. But, frankly, we have little choice. The alternative is to make a direct assault... I fear we will not survive against his army of well over twenty that I've counted."
"Jax, any idea when the next delivery of this liquor is expected?
To Larisa, "The kobolds, yes. King Sootscale took a liking to us and promised friendship with us when we aided his tribe. He and his people despise the bandits as well, and I believe could be persuaded to ally with us." He smirks, "Clever idea, barrels."
This Larisa is quite innovative. And quick to think of poison. Hmmm...
Seres nods in agreement, "This plan has its merits... avoid the direct approach, subdue the guards quietly, and go straight for the Stag Lord in his lair." He thinks for a few moments, frowning, then adds, "Certainly not all of the bandits are incontrovertible scum. As we have seen, some can be decent folk once they are out from under the Stag Lord's yoke. This may work for us -- if we strike fast and kill the Stag Lord, it is a fair bet that many bandits in the camp may surrender or flee."
He shakes his head, "You're right to be skeptical, Connor. We have no reason to trust these men. But, frankly, we have little choice. The alternative is to make a direct assault... I fear we will not survive against his army of well over twenty that I've counted."
"That choice is no choice at all. I will not cast my life away in some useless gesture of vengeance. We must find another way, or decide to leave the Stolen Lands to the Stag Lord."
Connor waves his hand dismissively, "None of us are throwing our lives away on a suicide mission. We find a way to do this right. If the canoes are our best bet then ..," Connor glances at Jax and grabs the cord around his neck whispering absent mindedly to himself.
"So be it," the knight finishes with a sense of finality. "Two things though, I don't know that we will have time to let the poison work. Use it, but be prepared for it to fail. Second, more of a personal concern, I don't care for entering this fight without Cinder. She is half of me. Thoughts on mitigating this are welcome, although it's not a show stopper."
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"Would she lie still in a canoe if you asked her to? Perhaps we could disguise her as cargo. That assumes the canoes are large enough, anyway."
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As Connor drags Jax towards the hole Larisa jumps in front of him, arms raised. "Ser Connor, I know you're feeling angry, hurt," She says, holding her hands out palm first in a placating gesture. "I don't blame you for wanting to take your rage out on these men. You have every right but I'm going to say a few words and if you still want to kill that man at the end of it then I wont stop you."
"Back in Brevoy I worked with a group of rangers to keep the roads free of banditry. During my time with them I learned a lot about what makes men like this tick. For most of them they took to this life out of desperation, poor men with no other means to support themselves. And once they take to this life they see no other way out, to them they signed their death notice the first time they took a life to make bread. So they live and fight till they die, no hope to see old age, retreating into the wilderness."
"Out here, strength makes law, and men like the Stag Lord capitalize on that. They gather men to them, by force of personality or arms, telling them that they are free men. Liberated from oppressors, free from laws and responsibility. And men like that," Larisa says, pointing at Jax "Eat it up because if they believe it hard enough, they can forget what they've done. They need to believe it because it lets them ignore the truth, gives them a reason to exist. It gives them a community of other men like them, but inside they all know it's all built on a lie. They just traded the law of their lord for the law of a tyrant, and they don't see anyway out. They've cut themselves off from their families and communities, they feel like they've burned all their bridges. Either they're killed by the law men, or they're killed by their 'comrades'."
She stops to breath, taking a few steps forward. "What we learned, out in the wilds, was that men like this respond to strength. And for what it's worth the few words I got out of the bandits here, they did look up to you. They...
As Larisa finishes her speech Ezekial moves to Connor and lays a hand on the knights shoulder. She has the right of it Connor. If you do this to Jax then you need to give me the same treatment next. My past is no cleaner than his, of this I can assure you. he looks over to the frightened bandit as he says But people do change. I have changed and with with Erastil's help at that. Now we have a priest of Erastil that will travel with us. I have hope for these men. Let us give them a chance at redemption. No?
Later Ezekial asks both Larisa and Veronica about what they might have seen or heard of the other priest of Erastil and of Oleg's wife. The Stag Lord seems to brag that he holds them, but my heart hopes to learn that they fled. Jhod seemed wise enough to know if a cause was lost and to take flight to save at least some of those who yet lived? Can you confirm that both were taken or is there hope that they escaped?
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Jax takes a long draw from his ale and then smiles grimly at Seres. "Aye, a direct assault is what he wants. But there be other ways."
He etches two curved lines on the table that converge in a irregular circle. "The Thorn and Skunk Rivers both flow to the Tuskwater. As with the rest of the Riverlands, the rivers are the key to the Greenbelt - both for the freshwater and for, more importantly, transportation. The Stag Lord expects an overland attack, but you may be able to slip through his pickets on the water."
He now draws a "X" a "B" and a "C". "X is where we are. East of here is B, where the hermit Bokken lives. Bokken brews a potent herbal liquor that the Stag Lord swills every waking hour that he's not out pillaging. We routinely purchase regular orders from Bokken and then transport the liquor to C, which is the Thorn River Camp. From there it's either transported overland during the dry months, or, when the water is high enough, its transported via river using canoes. This time of year the rivers are flush with melting spring snows so they're high enough. In fact we took three canoes up the river to the camp when we were looking for you - the canoes should still be there. With a little subterfuge, and our help of course, you all can pass off as bandits transporting the boss's liquor."
Jax draws a SL on the northern edge of Lake Tuskwater and draws a square around it. "The fort has walls and battlements that are guarded with archers." He pauses and looks at you with fear in his eyes. "The grounds outside of the walls are haunted. You dare not stray from the path that leads to the front gate - which is guarded and trapped. But, there is also a back gate on the lake side of the fort. This is the service door where food and supplies are brought when they arrive on barges from across the lake - or from upriver. There is a safe foot path that leads from the docks to the rear gate. Nobody watches that path!"
Jax now plunges his dagger into the SL...
Growing excited Ezekial adds We captured a case of that liquor when we took that first bandit camp, did we not. And we have a handful of silver stag pendents that we might use to further our attempts at deception. And I wonder if when we check with Bokken if he might have the poison or some sleep drought that we might procure from him. If not, then perhaps we could send the liquor, as much as we can get, ahead of our planned attack and let the stag lord indulge as we hear he does before we attack.
Veronica freezes when Ezekial asks about Jhod. "Jhod? Jhod Kavken? He's here?" She seems genuinely surprised. "No, I didn't see him - I barely had time to meet Oleg and Kesten as I was trying to make arrangements for lodging."
Veronica purses her lips and says, "That's... interesting. I wonder why...? Anyway, no, I didn't see him leaving. He may well be a prisoner."
"I'm sorry Mister Ezekial, I don't recall what happened to them. In the chaos of the fight I lost track of them."
Connor looks up and exchanges a knowing glance with Zeke but carries on.
"Let's set out to see this Bokken in the morning, and then find those canoes. I'll figure out what to do with Cinder once we see what we're working with."
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"Well perhaps we could disguise your mount as dead game? We could use a tarp, spill some deer blood around. Do you think that would be possible?" Larisa asks, examining the map as she traces possible routs idly. "Just a thought, how often do the bandits patrol? If we're looking to infiltrate the fort with a shipment it'd be best to replace the bandits already tasked for the job while they're out and about. It'd look suspicious if we just showed up outa the blue."
Larisa notes the distaste in the other woman but leaves it be.
You wake to the steady drip of rain trickling through the burned out roof of the gatehouse. After a meager breakfast of coffee and salted elk sausages, you assemble your gear and load your saddle bags. The horses stamp and whinny as if restless to be gone from a site of so much death.
With a final look over your shoulder at the make shift head stones in the newly dug cemetery, you spur your horses forward into the cold, soaking drizzle. Jax and his men jog next to you as your horses walk at a steady clip. After several hours of riding, the prairie starts transitioning to scrub lands with sporadic copses of large deciduous trees. Jax leads you to one such copse that is dominated by a particularly large tree. Upon closer inspection you see that the tree has been hollowed out to include a door and windows. Within each window burns a candle.
A wizened old man steps forward from the tree. He wears of patched robe and braces his weight on a walking stick. A small black cat perches on the man's shoulders. The cat regards you with seemingly intelligent eyes. The man waives to you and beckons you inside. "Greetings travelers. Come for potions have you? What will it be today? I have three curing potions and two potions of endure elements for sale. Any other potion can be made to order."
Upon seeing Jax the man pauses and frowns, "Ah, I see then. You're with him. Well, the liquor is ready, as usual."
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Ezekial has been watching work with the horses and in his desire to help had tried to learn from what he has seen. He chips in as best he can on his horse and is even helpful.
Jax, I think you know this but the thing with Connor, well its not about you at all. You were convenient, that's all. He is mad at himself. Furious I'd say. And I see the reason plain enough. I'm not happy about what happened here either. But I know where you stand. And I want you to know that I have your back as long as you honor your agreement. You will not get rope or sword, or worse as long as I can prevent it. He offers the man his hand.
Ezekail is quiet and watchful at Bokken's house. He does manage The healing potions would be nice. quietly to his group.
At Bokken's hut, Veronica leans over to Ezekial and whispers.
Larisa notes his frown and step froward. "Not entirely," She says giving Jax a look,. "He's with us."
"Not sure if you've noticed yet but the Staglord razed the trading post, we're whats left. We're looking for help fighting him and to do that we need his liquor." Larisa will say, look at him sternly. "I'm sure you're not a fanatic of his, will you be able to help us?"
Bokken frowns when Larisa mentions Oleg's fate. "Well that is a pity indeed. Oleg was an affable fellow and more importantly, he was ninety percent of my business. The Stag Lord ... is not a man to be trifled with. I warned Oleg to just pay the money and be done with it." He turns an angry eye at Jax. "That's certainly what I do. A cost of doing business, I suppose."
He now addresses Larisa matter of factly. "I'm happy to do business with you, but don't ask me to help you. As a matter of principle, I don't pick sides. If Oleg would have followed that advice, he'd still have his trading post."
"Now, what is it that you want?"
Jax becomes noticeably more friendly towards you, as do the other men. They now tend to stay close to you.
"We are going to get justice for Oleg and end the reign of terror that the Stag Lord has brought down on this area," Connor states matter of factly.
"Are you willing to aid us or would you prefer to sit by and let the man continue to send his lap dogs by to prey on your fear?"
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The zen-like sage seems rather calm since finding the slaughter at Oleg's. Though it does not show save in his compassionate demeanor, he's definitely feeling it. A long lifetime of experience and wisdom have a way of making one more detached about life and death, however.
At Bokken's, Aldarion finds his fellow agents and other companions handling what needs handling. If the potion brewer does not comply, he'll chime in to further encourage him to aid them.
Otherwise, Aldarion waits and simply observes the man's shop more carefully. He takes note of anything lying around, like arcane scrolls or scholarly tomes. For long ago, he dabbled in the arcane arts himself. Recent events have rekindled memories of his long lost love, his arcane instructor...
Bokken looks at you coldly. "I will help you by selling you what you need."
He then turns and walks back to the tree - he beckons you to follow him.
Inside, you see a laboratory on one side of the room and a study on the other side. The laboratory includes all types of alchemical equipment. A case of clear, corked bottles with a greenish liquid lies on a table. Several potions sit on glass shelves.
Within the study there is a large, ornate desk. On the desk is an open leather book. The pages of the book are covered with arcane symbols.
Bokken motions to coffee brewing in the laboratory. "Please, help yourself to coffee. You herbal liquor is there on the table. What else can I do for you?"
Larisa takes his offer graciously, helping herself to cup of coffee. "Thank you for your hospitality," She says, examining the interior. "I'm not one to beat around the bush, I understand the loss of Oleg has severely impacted your business. I also understand that your a man who prefers to maintain his neutrality in times like this. I apologize if we've offended you by demanding your help."
She takes a seat, looking at Connor then Bokken. "But the status quo around here has changed, with Oleg gone any resistance to the Staglord's hold over this land his gone with him. If we fail in killing him Brevoy will withhold any expansion attempts for the foreseeable future, further impacting your bottom line. How long can you last before the Staglord decides to force you to make his liquor." Gracefully she takes a sip of coffee, blowing on it gently. "You might be thinking, but what if I decide to poison him, he wouldn't risk it. And you might be right, but let me ask you, does the Staglord seem like a rational man? And if he does come for you, are you willing to risk death or worse to get back at him. Because if he dies then his men will kill you and if you fail, he will do unspeakable things to you."
Larisa pauses to let the man think for a moment, speaking after a few seconds. "You'll find that our requests are quite reasonable compared to the, alternative." She says, placing the cup down and tracking her finger around the edge with look of indifference. "I can't speak for my comrades, but here's what I would ask of you. Provide us a poison powerful enough to kill the man, spike the liquor and we will deliver it. We will even pay you for your work. And if the mood should take you, perhaps you could provide us those potion of healing you mentioned to give us a fighting chance. Think of it this
way, if we do kill the Staglord, Brevoy is going to attempt to colonize this area. The number of travelers will swell considerably with the roads being safer and we will ensure they come to you for potions. Your business will expand considerably and I'm sure we can arrange it so that settlers don't decide to build on your back lawn if you should desire it. Peace and most importantly prosperity will come flooding into the region, and all it will cost you is three healing potions and a batch of poison."
Leaning back, cradling the cup in one hand as she tucks a strand of hair away,Larisa examines the man
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Ezekial keeps his mouth mostly shut as he looks about. He turns down the coffee partly because he never developed a taste for the stuff and partly because it seemed, well, wrong to drink a freely offered drink from a man you are trying to buy poisons from.
Partly in order to lighten things up he does buy one potion of curing, counting out the 50 pieces of gold onto the table He also interjects that The poison would not have to kill. If it only caused sleep or even slowed reflexes it would help. Of course its critical that it be hard to detect. Are you capable of such a concoction?
Bokken looks quite concerned as Larisa recounts the risks of dealing with a murderous bandit lord. "Well, all things are negotiable, I suppose. I will sell you what you ask for - but what you use if for is your business. No, I will certainly not give it to you. And I will deny any association with you if ever asked. Do we have a deal?"
The old man then opens a secret panel within his laboratory bench. From the panel he brings out a rack holding many beakers with multi-colored liquids. "Here we have oil of taggit, blood root, belladonna, arsenic, dark reaver powder, striped toad stool and wolfsbane."
He briefly describes what each does. "So what will it be then? I demand gold up front for all purchases. Or ... there is a service I may be willing to trade for."