Keiran wakes up at 5 bells, and dresses himself before going to Xan's door.
"I bet he isn't even up yet"
Keiran bangs on the door. And again. And again. He tries the knob and finds it unlocked. Looking inside, he sees that Xan not only isn't in his room, but his sheets are untouched.
"Sigh. He hasn't even been in tonight. Gods, I hope he hasn't gotten into trouble.. well.. much trouble, at least"
Keiran goes downstairs and orders 2 eggs, scrambled, with a side of bacon and water. As he sits down to his breakfast, he reviews the plans he made last night, carefully making minor adjustments and contingencies.
At almost 11 bells, Xan finally stumbles back into the inn. Keiran notes that Xan still has some strands of hay in his hair, as well as cheap lipstick.. everywhere.
As Xan finishes his coffee and heads up to his room to prepare his things, Keiran yells, at the top of his lungs, "DON'T FORGET TO WASH, YOU SMELL LIKE AN OX!"
Upon arriving at the shop, Keiran gives gracious nods to each of the other groups. As he moves past Master Pero, he whispers, "Master Pero. My friend Xan had an unfortunate accident last night with some allergies. He.. has some trouble hearing this morning. Can you please let the others know to speak louder when addressing him. Or just to be louder in general. Oh, and he's.. very senstive about his.. condition. So try not to mention that you're doing so."
Keiran bows, and moves on.
Pero nods solemnly to Keiran, then moves around the shop, allowing the group a chance to view some of his wares. Various odds and ends decorate the upper shelves, while the lower reaches are loaded with standard supplies and gear.
Picking up a small horn, Pero blows gently over the bellowed end, before placing the smaller apeture before his own lips. A voluminous bellow rings forth as he whispers into the horn, With this little instrument, carved from raux-gnu horn, you can be heard easily a mile away. Outside the warehouse, windows are heard slamming as the horses and mules raise a clamor, frightened by the sudden loud, ringing shout.
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Simondale rises early and does his morning devotions to Sarenrae as the sun goddess rises in the sky. Embraced by her warmth, he proceeds with good spirits to break his fast on a simple fare, and hurries to meet the group at the appointed time.
/Shop Scene/
Feigning surprise at the sound from the horn, he wracks his brain for the type of spell that could amplify such volume.
Simondale did not have enough time or sight of the magical horn to identify the mystical energies that seemed to power it, but obviously it would serve to sound a short message over a good distance. Beyond a short distance however, the trailing words are drowned out by the heavy tone.
("With this little winthumest,licartle vom rinstraux-gnut chord, ..., was about all that could be understood outside of the warehouse before the droning base overpowered everything.)
When Xan walks up next to Keiran and the horn blows, he near screams from the pain. When Keiran tries unsuccessfully to hide his smile, Xan gives him a good natured punch in the shoulder for his trouble. Still holding his head, he follows the group around the shop.
Keiran chuckles a bit, and rubs his arm while shaking his head, "hehehe" before following Xan in
Bisimone rises early and prepares herself for the day to come.
She dresses in one of her more comfortable outfits, flattering and yet functional. Glad to have that moment's weakness out of my system. She loads her things into her pack, making sure she leaves nothing behind. Hard to say when, or even if, I will be returning here.
Heading down to the tap room, she says goodbye to the innkeeper and staff, Thanks for everything. Hopefully I will return someday. She drops a silver and three coppers on the bar for the last nights stay and small gratuity.
Bisimone stops on her way, not wanting to seem ill-prepared for her journey. At a general shop, she picks up a small tent, folding chair, mess kit. She drops two platinum scales on the counter, flirting with the shopkeeper hoping for as best a deal as she can get. She scoops up her change once done and heads out, realizing she's running late.
As she arrives at the warehouse/shop she sees everyone in disarray. So this is where that loud noise came from. She hurries past the gathered peoples, and heads for the door. Entering inside, she drops her too heavy pack and sighs, swaying slightly. If only I had a strong, virile companion to help share my burdens. I'm sorry I'm late, this pack is just too heavy, Fanning herself lightly. Looking around she checks over Master Pero's wares.
Keiran gives Xan a sharp nudge towards Bisimone, "You want to make an impression on the lady, now's your chance. But hurry up before my honor compels me to to step in before you!"
Xan gives Keiran a wry look and then steps over to Bisimone. "If I may be of assistance my lady?[/b] He says with a small bow. ...and forgive me but I don't buy for one second that you would ever need someone to share your burdens. You are much to strong a woman to ever need assistance from a man. He throws her bundle over his shoulder. But I am delighted to be of assistance nonetheless.
Plucking a bit of straw from Xanthan's hair as he takes her pack, sniffing an air of the stables, Bisimone offers a coy smile. Thank you sir. Now, do I need a man's assistance, no of course not. Sometimes desire a man's strong and able body, maybe occassionally so. After all, are not those that sleep in barns typically called beasts of burden. She runs her hand lightly across his cheek, gives it a playful smack, and moves into the warehouse, viewing the wares. She tosses her hair and gives a wink to Keiran as she passes by.
Xan chuckles ruefully to himself. "First point to you, my lady." He says with another bow this one a bit lower.
Keiran tries to hide a laugh as Bisimone walks by, "I like her. I give her 2 months before she has you branded and fitted with a saddle, bwahahaha!! Let's go, my friend! Adventure awaits!"
Keiran gives an over the top sarcastic knowing look at Simondale, "I couldn't agree more! This one always thinks with the wrong head!"
With a slap on Simondale's shoulder, Keiran walks past, but not without some parting wisdom whispered, "I would be careful with that one, however Brother Simon, he might see your annoyance as jealousy, and I've.. heard rumors..."
With a wink, Keiran leaves...
"Ha! You're probably right Keiran. Although that is not an entirely unpleasant prospect. Xan says with a laugh. He is really enjoying this group. They seem to have a good energy going and that can only speak of good things to come.
As for you my stodgy friend. He says to Brother Simon with a smile to take the sting out of his words. Why do you think the gods gave you those "lower instincts" if not to use them?
At that he follows Keiran and heads out.
As you leave the shop, Master Pero takes a moment to give your group a run down of what's included in the wagon the Assembly has prepared for your group. The wagon is a standard two horse, four wheelded model, with two sturdy light steeds hitched and ready. No coachmen or attendants are included, however, as you step outside you see a man of young age, tall and thin, with brown hair and green eyes, sits atop the bench. He is ruggedly handsome but not so much that he garners any extra attention.
Next to him is another man, tall, well-muscled, and dark-skinned. His slate grey eyes constantly roam, constantly blinking. He reminds the viewer of a skittish bird. His companion seems not to notice. The darker man's close-cropped black hair is receding, the resulting high forehead displaying his prominent brow and long, hooked nose. A thin moustache skirts a long straight line across his upper lip. He wears a sash across his armored chest that resembles that you saw upon Lord Dunkrint, though colored as that of a junior officer. A junior swordlord, perhaps fresh out of the academy. The men seem to be conversing amongst themselves, stopping as you exit the warehouse. They nod expectantly, but make no move to dismount.
As to items included in the wagon, the wagon contains roughly 60 days trail rations (total, not per party member), three water barrels, a small cook pot with utensils, flint and steel, 6 tindertwigs, 4 coils of 50' hemp rope, a hammer, a mallet, a hatchet, a small keg of nails, roughly 20 iron spikes, 6 small sacks, a shovel, a two man saw, a pickaxe, a woodsman's ax, a small tub of axle grease, three thick blankets, spare leather bits and straps for repairing the horse tack, roughly 50 sheets of parchment, 10 vials of black ink, 10 inkpens, two scroll cases, 10 pieces of bluish white chalk, 4 carrier pigeons in a medium sized cage, three sacks of birdseed, and roughly 30 days oats and corn for the horses (total, not per mount).
Additionally, Pero explains, is his pride and joy, an artifact gifted to him by someone special, and something he is entrusting to your group, the Arcanis Cartographia. With a twinkle at the mention of a the machine, Pero smiles. Actually, I have taken the liberty of stowing this special piece of equipment amongst the supplies loaded on your wagon. It is a magical stylus and mapping tool, an artifact of the Azlanti. With it and the stones associated with it, your group can map a large area relatively accurately, scouting the surroundings while the cartographer does the actual mapping. Each member ranges from the machine, scouting and exploring the area, while one member keeps the ink and parchment set and primed. The machine lays out the map accurately. though it takes a few hours and only maps roughly the surrounding six miles of territory.
Looking past the wagon and assembled groups, you see Lord Dunkrint and the priest Kahn remain with the group of demihumans. The nobleman has taken his place at the head of his processional. The red head's group, known as Veric's Rangers, according to Master Pero, have aligned themselves ready to march. Your wagon sits ready to move, awaiting your group to ready themselves. As the men atop the wagon look to you, a young page in Brevic livery approaches them, with two sturdy mounts. He mentions, with the Castellan's compliments and hands them the reigns.
Nearby, the Lord Mayor is conversing, nervously, with Lord Orlovsky, an half-elven female, another priest of Erastil, and an effete man on late middle age, dressed as a high court official. He nods to the men atop your wagon, most likely he is the Castellan. Seeing your group exit the warehouse, he speaks to the assembled.
Good, good, now that everyone seems ready, we may proceed. Greetings, I am Castellan Waldorf Dupreux, emissary of his Regency, King Noleski Surtova of the Dragonscale Throne. It has come to the attention of the throne that Restov has been having troubles of late with banditry and other ill omens. Such suffering is deplorable, and the Regent does not wish to see his ill-treated southern cousins endure such harshness, but nor does he wish to see them squander valuable men, monies, and resources in a foolish attempt to seek redress outside the lands of Brevoy.
The crowd grows nervous as he speaks the last, though none raise voice in contention or protest. The assembled nobles and officials you recently dined with seem cowed and embarrassed at this, avoiding meeting the gazes of those they have hired.
Seeing his words had the desired effect, the Castellan continues. That said, do not think the throne does not respect the worthy souls that have come forth to head the call of Restov and the lands of Rostland. You are to be commended, you show promise and fortitude in taking upon yourselves this daunting task. How can the Regency not show kindness, and seek to aid you in your endeavors? I have been empowered by King Surtova, his Regency, as he nods to those clearly offended by the rankled claim of sovereignty here in the heart of the land that seeks an orderly and official inquiry into the rights of succession to the Dragonscale Throne, to insure these missions achieve success, by what means and manners deemed fit by my office. To that end, some changes have been made to the charters to be granted here today.
The crowd begins to murmur and mutter at this, as each group clearly had made preparations for the terrain and circumstances each expected to face.
Lord Dunkrint and High Priest Kahn will attend to the needs of King Noleski's childhood friend and confidant, Lord Maegar Varn of Issia, as they seek to quiet the troubles associated with the Dunsward and Tors of Levenies. May the power of the Swordlords watch over and protect the lands deeded this day to Lord Varn. Dunkrint bristles visibly as a nobleman, red haired and brushy mustached dandy rides out from across the way. Lord Varn seems more fit for a banquet hall than an expedition into the hills and mountains to the southeast of Restov.
To Lord Harris Drelev, my own dear distant cousin and former consort to Queen Natala Surtova, the Regent has granted the lands of the Hooktongue Slough, for pacification and and securement as a valuable trading partner with the lands of Pitax and its worthy King Irovetti. Lord Drelev, do our family proud.
Veric's Rangers seem to erupt momentarily in confusion and outrage, as the lands they were promised are taken from them. A crack of the whip from the fearsome redhead quiets them, as Dupreux continues.
Fear not Lady Veric, your brother has not been forgotten by your Regency. You have been granted the right to explore and enforce the laws of Brevoy far into the heart of the Narlmarch Woods, and to discover the deeper secrets of those long haunted and feybound lands. Surely the Rangers shall thrive in a land the elves long ago abandoned as too wild and irredeemable, he says with a smirking smile.
Turning to your group at last, Now lastly, to the Greenbelt Restov has sought to send a party most highly thought of by this humble servant and with him his Lord and master. King Surtova has deigned to leave your commission and service relatively intact, for even the most broken of instruments may prove correct once in awhile. The assembly has chosen wisely in granting you charter to apprehend the Stag Lord and his minions, and to explore the Northern reaches of the Greenbelt. However, such a task should not be given so freely to so small an assembly. That is why, your noble king has entrusted those of his own line to undertake this journey. In addition to the worthy Keiran Surtova, Noleski has granted the newest Swordlord, a distant successor of the Surtovan line, Adreccam Surtova, to accompany you. The darker man atop the wagon bristles momentarily under the sudden scrutiny and mention of his bloodline. The fellow next to him, whispers something and they both turn stoic once more.
With him will travel a man known to the court, and always a friend to Brevoy, Flynn Steelheart. Together they will grant your membership a more uniting merit, bringing House Surtova and the Swordlords of Restov together for the common good, as only the wise leadership of the Regency can bring about.
A smattering of hiss and whisper occurs amongst the remaining groups, clearly taking the Castellan at suprise. Sternly his voice takes edge, Mind you, your charter enables you to explore the Northern reaches of the Greenbelt, NORTHERN REACHES ONLY. Do not think to extend yourselves, any of you, as he turns to gaze at the entire courtyard, beyond the boundaries of writ you are granted today. Any exception, exemption, or miscalculation beyond the scope of your writs, taken by any of you, will void your causes, and see you under the Justice of the Regency you are hereby being empowered to enforce.
Straightening his robes, and nodding to his aide, Castellan Dupreux waits a moment while the writs of charter are passed to the representatives of each group. Lords Varn and Drelev seem quite pleased with their letters, merely passing them to a trusted servant.
Lord Dunkrint makes some gesture of eye and hand to the half-elf nearby, whom you recognize at last as an heir to the Aldori name, Jamandi Aldori. Then he merely hangs his head and mounts his horse. Tamnus Kahn does the same, first nodding and conversing shortly with the younger priest, Ezvanki Keegh.
The Rangers' leader roughly seizes the documents from Dupreux's aide, then calls out to Dupreux, You've not see tha last o' tha Rangers, an ye've nae seen tha last o' me ya manky wally sassenach. With that, the entire troop spurs their mounts onwards, bursting forth from the plaza, through the southern gates, and onto the roads beyond.
Ill bred and destined to meet their end I imagine, the Castellan comments, To the betterment of Brevoy and its peoples, of course,
To your group, the aide hands the writ to Keiran, and nods briefly before rushing back to his master.
Unless anyone else is in need of theatrics, I feel this heat becomes stifling, and the dust does nothing for my disposition. I bid you all safe journey, glad tidings, safety and security for all Brevoy, what have you. The Regency commends you, now off, off he sweeps at you with his hands, before turning and hustling to his carriage, his aide lifting at the short train of his robes.
It seems you have been dismissed, your group enlarged, ready to embark upon your journey. As Master Pero turns to leave, he whispers, Those two can be trusted, despite the honeyed words of the Castellan. They were only excluded from your company as we thought they had business elsewhere. You may well need them, as I have heard young Adinas was arrested last night, seeking to fence goods stolen from Lord Dunkrint's manor. A quick end to a short journey awaits him, I'm afraid. Good luck to you all, fair roads and unspoiled ruins.
The other troops seem to be preparing themselves for travel. Most likely, Dunkrint and Kahn will not be traveling in your same direction, but Lord Drelev and his "baggage" train should be.
Of course, Drelev's pack animals and heavily laden carts would slow down even your packed wagon, so it remains for you to decide, journey with the others, or head out quickly on your own. At a hard push, you could be at Nivakta's Crossing just past nightfall, then on to Oleg's three days beyond. Adventure is at hand. Who rushes on to meet it.
The Writ of Charter
Be it so known that the bearer of this charter, Keiran Surtova, and those acting upon his direction, have been charged by the nation of Brevoy, under the auspices of the Swordlords of Restov, doing so in action upon the greater good and authority vested within them by the office of the Regency of the Dragonscale Throne, and further have been granted the rights of exploration and travel within the wilderness region known as the Greenbelt. Explorations shall be limited to an area no further than thirty-six miles east and west and sixty miles south of the former Crimson Scale frontier outpost now deeded as Oleg's Trading Post, under one Brevic native Oleg Leveton. The carrier of this charter, and those acting upon his direction, shall further strive against banditry, brigandry and other unlawful or treasonous behaviors, whithersoever it is they are to be encountered. The punishments levied for unrepentant banditry and associated crimes, under the laws set forth by King Surtova, remain, as always, execution by sword, rope, or other means as directed by the bearer of this writ, or agencies acting upon the same at his direction. So witnessed on this the 24th day of Calistril, under the watchful eye of the Lordship of Restov, the Castellan of Issia, and the authority granted the same such by King Noleski Surtova, Regent of the Dragonscale Throne, Ruler of Brevoy.
Signed,
Lord Mayor Iospeh Sellemius
City of Restov
Under the Watchful Eye, the Agency of the Regent
Castellan Waldorf Dupreux
King Nikoli Surtova
Regent of the Dragonscale Throne,
Ruler of Brevoy, Issia, and Rostland
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You there, hold still and I'll fix those eyes of yours. Simondale reaches for the tall grey eyed, well gentleman is a bit of a stretch... and prepares to channel the light of Sarenrae. Without a reaction, though, he turns to his companions.
Ok friends, which one of us will carry the young farmlord first. I imagine he might fit into one or more of these new sacks. Simondale chuckles dryly. You're not sure if his comment is a jest or a jeer.
You there, hold still and I'll fix those eyes of yours.
Adreccam blinks at the heavily armored man addressing him, then puts a hand on his eyes in sudden distress. "My eyes? What's wrong with 'em? Mother always said they were pretty!"
The warrior notices the man's black hair and pale skin. "Ah, Chelaxian, if'n I'm not mistaken, and a priest o' the sun god, too!" Adreccam lays a finger aside his nose and winks at the cleric. "Somethin' tells me your love for king and country is on the wane if them's the robes you've taken up! Call it a hunch."He smiles widely at his new companions, displaying a stunning array of dental neglect. "Adreccam Surtova is how I'm called, and it's right fine to meet another cousin," he says, nodding at Kieran. "My, but our family does get around, don't they? Me, I'm just street sweepings from this fair town; don't let the sash fool you." He jabs a thumb over his shoulder at the young man beside him on the driver's bench. "This here's Flynn, a recent compatriot o' mine."
His eyes lock onto the half-elf sorceress, and widen considerably. "Gorum stay his hand," he muttered under his breath. "Ain't you a sight for sore eyes, lass? You're with us, then, is that the way of it? Only thing I needed for this trip was a good mood, and you've gone and done me that favor. I thank you."
As soon as they are out of earshot of the Castellan, Xan starts laughing like crazy. Keiran let me see that! Xan grabs the charter and starts laughing even harder. It seems that you are our fearless leader! Well don't be expecting me to "My Lord" you and go bowing all the time. This is the best news I've gotten in days! He claps Keiran on the shoulder and continues ribbing him about being the "most worthy Keiran Surtova." Well what is thy bidding my most worthy leader? Should we press hard for Nivakta's Crossing and show these other groups how a real ride is done?
When the new guy starts making eyes at Lady Bisimone, Xan narrows his eyes at him for a quick moment and then let's it pass. Lady Bisimone is not his...yet. Therefore he has no right to jealousy no matter how quickly he might have felt it.
He uses the moment to lean over and introduce himself, I am Xanthan of House Lebeda. It is a pleasure to meet you. I hope you are as much fun as my good friend Keiran over here.
Flynn thanks the page for the mount. After waiting for the Castellan to finish his speeches, Flynn makes sure the wagon brake is set and hops off. He leads the horse to the back of the wagon and ties it off so that it will follow as he drives the wagon.
Walking back to the driver's seat, Flynn stops in front of the gathered group and gives a slight bow. Welcome and well met. Perhaps we should get moving. I think we can make good time and get to Nivakta's Crossing before dark. There will be plenty of time for talk on the way.
And with that, Flynn easily glides back up into the drivers seat, grabbing the reigns, he readies to release the brake waiting for the others response. OH,I am Flynn by the way.
I am Xanthan of House Lebeda. It is a pleasure to meet you. I hope you are as much fun as my good friend Keiran over here.
Adreccam quirks an eyebrow at the man, then at the man's greataxe. "Lebeda, you say? I thought I heard a trace of that Reykal trader accent in there somewheres. Well, the pleasure's all mine, Lebeda. Tha's a mighty big piece o' wood and metal you got there, if'n ya don't -- "
Welcome and well met. Perhaps we should get moving. I think we can make good time and get to Nivakta's Crossing before dark. There will be plenty of time for talk on the way.
Adreccam smiles wanly at Xanthan. "Flynn's right, o' course. Let's get this show on the road. Coz!" he bellows at Kieran, "Lead us on! 'Ours is the Right!'" A finger on the nose and a wink completely ruin the moment, as per usual.
I am Xanthan of House Lebeda. It is a pleasure to meet you. I hope you are as much fun as my good friend Keiran over here.Adreccam quirks an eyebrow at the man, then at the man's greataxe. "Lebeda, you say? I thought I heard a trace of that Reykal trader accent in there somewheres. Well, the pleasure's all mine, Lebeda. Tha's a mighty big piece o' wood and metal you got there, if'n ya don't -- "
Welcome and well met. Perhaps we should get moving. I think we can make good time and get to Nivakta's Crossing before dark. There will be plenty of time for talk on the way.Adreccam smiles wanly at Xanthan. "Flynn's right, o' course. Let's get this show on the road. Coz!" he bellows at Kieran, "Lead us on! 'Ours is the Right!'" A finger on the nose and a wink completely ruin the moment, as per usual.
Xan smiles and thinks to himself, I think I could grow to like this guy. Actually I am from way up in Irondale north of Skywatch. The family has a mining town they oversee up there. I moved down to Lake Reykal about 10 years ago before heading up to Port Ice with our illustrious chief over there.
Keiran turns red at the announcments and shakes his head at Xan, "heh, I'm pretty sure he handed the writ to me because I'm the only one here that looks like he knows how to read.. " Keiran says dryly" Flynn, Adreccam, the pleasure is mine, the more hands, the better, I always say!"
Keiran winces slightly as Adreccam pronounces the family motto, before quickly recovering, "Indeed."
Quickly changing the subject, Keiran muses, "I suppose we should be on our way. I am Keiran Surtova, you've already met Xan here, our resident troubleseeker (or maker.. I haven't quite figured out whether the trouble he finds was present before he got there, but alas, he makes things.. interesting), The sarcastic cleric there is brother Simondale (at least, I think he's being sarcastic.. most of the time..) and milady Bisimone (be careful of that one. Her wit is sharper than Xan's axe), "
Keiran turns to Xan, "Nivakta's Crossing, eh? That way?" A slight smile crosses Keiran's lips, "LAST ONE THERE BUYS THE ALE!" Keiran shouts, as he spurs Crusher into a full run.
Do you think he forgot about the wagon? Xan says smirking to Adreccam. Xan leisurely guides Sunspot forward into a canter alongside the cart, watching his friend gallop off into the sunset. If someone mentions perhaps that we should go after him, Xan responds, Oh he'll figure it out before too long. Grinning to himself, Xan pulls out a flagon of wine and takes a draw, offering it to Adreccam, and motioning to pass it around to any who would like some.
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Just wait till Keiran realizes he went off in the wrong direction. Although, I do love a free mug of ale... Shall we be off gents and madam? I assume one of you can hitch your nag to the wagon and attempt to steer it. I'm afraid I'm all left hands when it comes to that sort of thing. Simondale waves his white gloved hands weakly. He mounts his grey stallion cinderclops and moves along side the wagon.
If anyone is without a horse, Flynn offers for them to ride shotgun. Then he snaps the reigns and clicks his tongue yelling at the horses to get a move on. The cart lurches uncharicteristicly forward and begins the route to Nivakta's Crossing. I suppose we should make good time. Wouldn't want to be around those others when they get to bragging about their "luck" in getting their charters.
An hour later, Keiran casually trots up beside Xanthan, punching him in the arm.. HARD, "That's for point me in the wrong direction.."
Xan chuckles as he rubs his arm. Have a nice ride did we? Xan laughs and feels truly at home next to his friend on the road again.
Bisimone climbs aboard the wagon at the offer of a seat. She smiles at the new members of the team. I find myself surronded by a bevy of strong, able bodies, eager it seems to be of service to... winking at Xan,Brevoy. The nation's troubles may soon be laid to rest I'm sure.
She spends the early ride chatting idly with Flynn, Xan, Simondale, and Adreccam, awaiting Keiran's return. After a particularly bumpy stretch of road, she finds herself holding onto Flynn's strong and steady arm for support. Catching Xan's gaze, she gives him a pouty shake of her head, a playful toss of her hair, and pats Flynn playfully. You do know how to give a girl an interesting and 'physically' challenging ride.
When Keiran returns she calls out, eyes bright and mischievous, By Desna thank you for coming back. It is such chivalry leaving me to the mercies of these potential "ruffians". I suppose a lady must depend upon herself in these troubling times, for she never knows when or where her champion shall be found.
Keiran tilts his visor at Bisimone and then punches Xan on the arm again, "that's for being a "ruffian."
He ponders for a split second and punches Xan in the arm one more time "that's.. just because I'm still mad at you for pointing me in the wrong direction", before letting out a guffaw and slapping his friend on the back, "now! how far are we from the crossing?"
Adreccam helps himself to Xan's proffered wine with a nod of thanks. He smacks his lips in satisfaction. As Kieran bolts off, Adreccam watches with bemusement while listening to his new companions' idle chatter. Every time Bisimone engages him in conversation, the warrior unconsciously slicks back his black hair with one hand, and adjusts his chain shirt. The stuttering and general jackassery goes without saying.
Your party passes first the baggage train of Lord Drelev, his elegant litter closed to you and the dust of the road. Already his porters look weary and tired. They have many days of drugery ahead of them, simply to reach the marshy lands of the Slough.
Shortly later you find where Veric's Rangers left the roadway, heading north back into Brevoy. Whether to meet up with Lord Veric, or for some other purpose, you are uncertain.
Your band, pushing on past dusk, reaches the gates of Nivakta's Crossing just after full dark. A rough wooden wall encircles the village proper. At irregular intervals, a watchtower rises up to look forth upon the lands around. Wood smoke drifts lazily through the chilly night air, and only a few scattered torches illuminate the walls. The village gates are closed, though a lantern bearing guard hails you from the ramparts, asking the purpose of visiting so late in the day. Nivakta and Brevoy will tolerate no banditry, nor varlotry mind you.
The gates remain barred, awaiting your response.
Your party passes first the baggage train of Lord Drelev, his elegant litter closed to you and the dust of the road. Already his porters look weary and tired. They have many days of drugery ahead of them, simply to reach the marshy lands of the Slough.
Shortly later you find where Veric's Rangers left the roadway, heading north back into Brevoy. Whether to meet up with Lord Veric, or for some other purpose, you are uncertain.
Your band, pushing on past dusk, reaches the gates of Nivakta's Crossing just after full dark. A rough wooden wall encircles the village proper. At irregular intervals, a watchtower rises up to look forth upon the lands around. Wood smoke drifts lazily through the chilly night air, and only a few scattered torches illuminate the walls. The village gates are closed, though a lantern bearing guard hails you from the ramparts, asking the purpose of visiting so late in the day. Nivakta and Brevoy will tolerate no banditry, nor varlotry mind you.
The gates remain barred, awaiting your response.
Flynn pulls up the cart. Stopping it about talking distance away. He then looks towards Keiran, Evidently you're the designated leader. Care to get us in? I'd hate to have to sleep outside of the gates tonight. And I definitely wouldn't want the lovely Lady Bisimone having to sleep on the hard cold ground, when she deserves only the best bed that Nivakta has to offer. Flynn flashes a quick smile showing his white teeth at Xan after the last comment.
Flynn pulls up the cart. Stopping it about talking distance away. He then looks towards Keiran, Evidently you're the designated leader. Care to get us in? I'd hate to have to sleep outside of the gates tonight. And I definitely wouldn't want the lovely Lady Bisimone having to sleep on the hard cold ground, when she deserves only the best bed that Nivakta has to offer. Flynn flashes a quick smile showing his white teeth at Xan after the last comment.
Xan chuckles at Flynn's smile and comment, content that the lady Bisimone is much too intelligent to be swayed by a heavy handed compliment such as that. Keiran will get us through have no doubt, he can be a bit prude at times but he is resourceful and I would follow him anywhere.
Keiran silently wonders at which point in the past few days he was apparently voluntold to become the leader of this expedition, but quickly shakes away the self doubt when he notices his companions were all staring at him, expectantly. He turns to Xan and Flynn, and gives a quick wink as if saying, "I got this", before approaching the gate.
"Hail Sir! We are neither bandits nor.. Varlot..ists", Keiran leans over to Bisimone and whispers, "that means whores, right?" before turning back to the guard "We come from Restov, with a charter from the Swordlords to assist in the exploration and elminiation of bandits in the Stolen Lands to the south. We kindly request entry into your fine town to rest and replenish our supplies"
Atop the wagon next to Flynn, Adreccam rests his arms atop his propped shield. He surveys the wooden palisade as his cousin gains them entrance. Not like to stop a determined force, he thought sourly. 'Twas a good thing the disparate bad elements in these lands had not banded together. Doubtless, the proximity to Brevoy also discouraged fits of aggression.
He sucks on a tooth noisily and adjusts his pack.
Flynn leans in close to Bisimone. Close enough to smell the fragrance of her skin and whispers in her ear.
My lady, perhaps it is the way I hold myself as a mature student of the sword, but I am but 15 years old and have not yet been with a woman. I do enjoy flirting, and trying to get under Xan's skin shall be a good distraction to the many days of travel we have before us. However I hope someday I will be lucky enough to find true love with a woman half as beautiful as you. But till that day... Flynn lets the rest of his thoughts hang in the air.
"Hail Sir! We are neither bandits nor.. Varlot..ists", "We come from Restov, with a charter from the Swordlords to assist in the exploration and elminiation of bandits in the Stolen Lands to the south. We kindly request entry into your fine town to rest and replenish our supplies"
Fine town, bah. I'm no noble, an this ain't no town. But we Nivaktan's are proud all the same. We knews ta look for folks from Restov. Be you those folks?
Flynn leans in close to Bisimone.
Bisimone leans closer, her breath warm against his neck and ear.
She leans back, lightly strokes his cheek, ending at his chin, But no, probably not, and she smacks him across the cheek. Not hard, but playfully, with just the right measure of sound and sting.
Flynn gently rubs his cheek and gives Bisimone a wry smile. Casting furtive glances back and forth between Bisimone and Xan, He turns to look up to the guard waiting impatiently for a response. Then mostly to himself, I suppose I deserved that one. Hah.