Keiran spends the time keeping a close eye out for trouble. He'll attempt to get to know his new compatriots, while keeping his sword arm prepared with daily training alongside Xan. He seems to have developed some sort of rash, and tries hard not to scratch, but some times it is simply too itchy to ignore. He wonders where that came from, but is too embarrassed to bring forth to the group...
Chimney smoke most likely.
Oh good, no need to rush it, then.
Keiran raises the Rostland banner and urges his mount ahead
Xanthan will follow closely at his friend's side. Ever watchful for threat and attack. Though he and Keiran like to play jokes with one another, Xanthan feels an intense bond to Keiran more akin to what one would feel with a flesh and blood brother. Despite his teasing, Xan believes that Keiran can be a great leader if given the opportunity and support and is fully behind his friend.
As Xan rides, he looks back at Bisimone. He has not met a woman such as she before, she reminds Xan much of himself but with much more polish. She seems to enjoy the chase and the game that is played between the sexes.
Flynn is somewhat of an enigma. He is very young but carries himself with an air of someone who has given orders in the past. Perhaps a noble of some sort yet he claims no name. He seems a bit like Xan in the sense of he has a lot of spirit but needs a bit of seasoning. Definitely someone who could be useful on this endeavor but hopefully his exuberance will be turned to positive things and not put him in danger.
Addrecam is someone interesting. He appears to be used to command but seems to shun it, allowing others to speak instead. This is not necessarily a bad thing except it seems like it comes from a lack of confidence in himself more than a conscious decision to allow others to speak. Perhaps a leader can be drawn out of him in the future.
Xan chuckles as he looks at Simondale, not at the man himself but at the interactions Xan is imagining they will be having in the future. Xan and Brother Simondale seem to be polar opposites in their approach to life. Xan is a man that denies himself nothing as he knows not how long he will be upon this plane and plans to make the most of his time here having fun and enjoying himself. The good Brother seems to deny himself everything in preference to a somewhat ascetic life in devotion to his god. Not that Xan finds anything wrong with that life, it is fine for him, it is just something that Xan does not believe he could ever do.
Taking a deep breath of clean fresh air, Xanthan Arcos Lebeda rides towards Oleg's and his future among friends.
Keiran glances at Xan, then back at Bisimone, then back at Xan, "just be careful she doesn't singe your eyebrows off, k?"
Keiran glances at Xan, then back at Bisimone, then back at Xan, "just be careful she doesn't singe your eyebrows off, k?"
Overhearing the remark, Bisimone smiles slyly, Oh, don't worry, it won't be his eyebrows being singed away...
Adreccam is pleased to see Oleg's Trading Post on the horizon after a fairly uneventful journey. He had warmed to his new companions in the last few days, and felt confident that they could hold their own when trouble inevitably reared its head. He only hopes he can do the same.
He gives the reins a slight shake and follows Kieran and the rest.
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Riding in the sun does much to lighten Simondale's otherwise contemplative demeanor. He throws in his gloved hand to help where he can and appreciates every opportunity he has to take over cooking duties for the party. He is not an overly skilled chef, but makes a decent local fare with an approximation of most of the dishes he's encountered. From time to time he adds in a distinctively Chelish flair to the food.
As the journey winds on he even manages to engage in a few practice bouts with the warriors. His whirling scimitar looks spectacular in the sun, although his skill is no where near competing with the others.
As you approach the outpost, you catch the faintest scent of the evening meal on the breeze, mixed in amongst the woodsmoke of the cook stove. A steady thump, thump. thump, bang of a hammer echoes from within the compound. The wooden gate is open, the towers at each corner holding an ominous catapult, unwound and silent. You slow your approach and enter the front gate. At last, you have reached Oleg's outpost.
To your left is a small stables, large enough for half your mounts. An open faced storage pen lays before you, behind which you see a series of midden pits that front the far wall. To your immediate right is a barracks house, before which you see a series of open tables, with the main structure rising from across that open courtyard. Atop the roof of the main structure, a gruff beared man stops his hammering and looks down upon you. He assays your band, spits back down the roof slope, and calls out. Put that fool banner away. Yer not in Rostland anymore. A man here is his own man, lest wise in most ways. State yer business. He stares at your group expectantly.
As you approach the outpost, you catch the faintest scent of the evening meal on the breeze, mixed in amongst the woodsmoke of the cook stove. A steady thump, thump. thump, bang of a hammer echoes from within the compound. The wooden gate is open, the towers at each corner holding an ominous catapult, unwound and silent. You slow your approach and enter the front gate. At last, you have reached Oleg's outpost.
To your left is a small stables, large enough for half your mounts. An open faced storage pen lays before you, behind which you see a series of midden pits that front the far wall. To your immediate right is a barracks house, before which you see a series of open tables, with the main structure rising from across that open courtyard. Atop the roof of the main structure, a gruff beared man stops his hammering and looks down upon you. He assays your band, spits back down the roof slope, and calls out. Put that fool banner away. Yer not in Rostland anymore. A man here is his own man, lest wise in most ways. State yer business. He stares at your group expectantly.
Xan looks at the rude response to his friend and says, We're here to save your miserable hide you crotchety old man. Is this how you greet all those who come to help you?
We're here to save your miserable hide you crotchety old man. Is this how you greet all those who come to help you?
Adreccam hops down from the wagon to stand beside Kieran and Xan. He leans over to whisper to the ranger. "One o' these days, someone will actually greet us with open arms and a smile. It'll be a glorious thing, Xan. Glorious."
Getting down from the wagon, ignoring the tension growing between the group and Oleg, Bisimone stretches and looks around the courtyard.
Taking a stern stand, hands on her hips, she looks to the rooftop. Good Oleg, mind your manners. We have come at the behest of Restov to aid you. Is this the kind of hospitality we should expect?
Turning to Xan, a wink in her eye, And my Xan, please dear, give the man his due. We ride in unannounced, waving colors he's rejected, why it's only natural he'd jump to the "wrong" conclusions.
Walking over to one of the open tables, she takes a seat, then calls out for Svetlana. Svetlana, hello dear. Looking up again, Surely your wife must be nearby to help sort this all out. You men, you truly need us ladies to keep you out of trouble. I smell her cooking, so I know she must be about.
Bisimone watches and waits for some response, then as an afterthought, turns to Simondale. Good priest, with luck you may get the chance to add a few recipes to your repertoire. You may even get the chance to cook for ol' grumpy up there, show him we mean well after all.
Simondale, feel free to make your diplomacy check. The hammering has stopped so you should be heard fairly well.
Flynn pulls the wagon into a position out of the way. If it is not too much trouble Master Oleg, I would like to stable the horses. He then quickly and quietly unhitches the horses and leads them to the stables and open pen. Flynn takes his time with each horse, rubbing them down and making sure they are properly fed and watered. When finished Flynn cleans himself up properly and finds a place to seat himself at one of the open tables and waits expectantly, but quietly, for some of the delicious food that he can smell.
Getting down from the wagon, ignoring the tension growing between the group and Oleg, Bisimone stretches and looks around the courtyard.
Taking a stern stand, hands on her hips, she looks to the rooftop. Good Oleg, mind your manners. We have come at the behest of Restov to aid you. Is this the kind of hospitality we should expect?
Turning to Xan, a wink in her eye, And my Xan, please dear, give the man his due. We ride in unannounced, waving colors he's rejected, why it's only natural he'd jump to the "wrong" conclusions.
Walking over to one of the open tables, she takes a seat, then calls out for Svetlana. Svetlana, hello dear. Looking up again, Surely your wife must be nearby to help sort this all out. You men, you truly need us ladies to keep you out of trouble. I smell her cooking, so I know she must be about.
Bisimone watches and waits for some response, then as an afterthought, turns to Simondale. Good priest, with luck you may get the chance to add a few recipes to your repertoire. You may even get the chance to cook for ol' grumpy up there, show him we mean well after all.
Xan will follow Bisimone over to the table and take a seat. After a moment he speaks in a low whisper.
Keiran tries to calm everyone down, wincing noticably at his companions understandable reactions, however, he breathes a sigh of relief when Simon attempts to be diplomatic, "Good Oleg. I apologize for the banner. My name is Keiran, and yes, you are correct. Rostland has no juristiction here. However, we come representing her and her interests, and thus, at least for now, we will hold the banner with pride. You have asked for aid against the bandit menace. Rostland has answered!"
Keiran says the last bit with a dramatic flare, while spreading his arms wide in an introductory jesture for the group.
"May I present Xanthan Lebeda, whose axe could split a mountain, and his charm, win over an army! The pious brother Simondale, who wields the power of the Dawnflower, Saranrae, for to cross him means facing the wrath of a god! Flynn Steelheart, silent as Death herself, and every bit just as deadly, he'll kill you twice before you even know he's coming. Adreccam Surtova, his strength is legendary, as is his temper, woe to those that stand in HIS way! And last, but certainly not least, the Lady Bisimone, who's flames could scorch the clouds, while her wit burns all of heaven behind them."
Keiran will pause in between each introduction to give each character ample time to throw up a pose.
Adreccam Surtova, his strength is legendary, as is his temper, woe to those that stand in HIS way!
Adreccam peers at his cousin suspiciously as he leans on his shield with one leg crossed behind the other. Strong, perhaps. Legendary... well, only in me own mind. Keiran has an admirable ability to stretch the truth, it seems.
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And our good Sir Keiran has adourned us with such accolades that we can only fail to live up to them. Would that we could touch his honeyed tongue to the wine of the Riverlands- we'd never want for sweetness. Let me be clear in that the Goddess wields the power; I am merely the vessel. Redemption or destruction is a choice for the wicked." Simondale smiles as he gives his jibe.
The upper half of the door into the main hall opens, revealing a middle aged blonde woman. Oleg, stop being soo, well, you. These folks are here to help. Get down here and make peace. Looking to your group, I am Svetlana. You've met my husband Oleg. We thank you so much for coming. Welcome to our humble post. The bunk house is there behind you. Please, make yourselves at home. You men, help Oleg finish his chores. The young missy and I will finish the meal and set the table. No back talk, no excuses out of any of you. Glaring at Oleg, You too, the sooner its done, the sooner you get dinner. Go, now.
Oleg comes down, shaking hands with each of you. He seems gruff, but you notice his eyes never stray far from Svetlana. He is well muscled and solid, his firm handshake belying the hard years of building up this outpost with his own two hands, forging a life away from the comforts of civilization. He says the list today includes finishing the few roof tiles shaken from the previous storm, mucking out the empty midden pit, a few other easy chores. Catching Sveltana's rebuff for standing and looking around, Flynn can attest she can be all fire when she wishes, but her tone never seems to take that of true anger, more just a mother rearing a wayward child.
As the men finish the last of the day's labor, it seems much was done in a short time. The tiles are finished, the pit's emptied and shored up, the horses brushed and tethered, wagon stowed out of sight behind the stables, and your personal bags tucked away in the barracks.
For the women, Svetlana and Bisimone seem to have hit it off well, nodding at the men while talking in low whispers. The jokes are not shared, but something seems to keep them amused as they work and watch the men labor. A creeping fear steals over each man and Oleg alike, an ache deep in the pit of their stomach, Great, now there's two of them. Heaven's help us.
The table set, Svetlana calls, Ok, wash up, dinner's served.
The dinner, while not originally planned for so many, is filling and the ladies add on so enough remains to spread around. You have twin loaves of honeyed wheat served with a healthy crock of goat butter or sugared maple drizzle. Oleg breaks out two pitchers of his homemade mead, then Svetlana makes him add a bottle of Issian winter wine. Large, healthy bowls are served of a stew made up of earthy root vegetables and venison strips, sided by a platter of potatoes, onions and peppers in a spicy white sauce. For desert, Svetlana reveals a treacle tart topped with warm spring apple bits and clotted creame.
The dinner goes well, with Svetlana refusing any talk of business or troubles at the table. Dinner is for family and friends, so the conversation is more about each of you, how you met, how they met, the past and better times. You find yourselves coming to like the Levetons, truly like them. Where before this was a job, a chance to right a wrong and make a name for yourselves, you find this becoming something more. You want to help them because you like them. They are good people in need of help they couldn't find, until now.
As the last of the dishes are tucked away, Oleg leaves Svetlana to the washing, then sits at the table with you. His mug in hand, he takes one full swallow, sets it down, then looks to you. The bandits come with morning, the deadline's due. I have nothing more to pay to them. I've been robbed for the last. I ask not for me, but Svettie, help us.
Adreccam leans forward with his arms crossed on the table. His armor lies in his bunk, and he is wearing the dark brown tunic and leggings he carries in his pack. His sword rests in its sheath, propped up against the table. A silent exhalation of gas curls out of his mouth.
"Help you will have, Oleg," Adreccam says, patting the pommel of his blade. "Tell us everything about these buggers: disposition, numbers, strength. How do they approach the town? Are they overconfident because they always get what they want? Do any of 'em use magic in one way, shape, or form?" He leans back as a he takes a swig of mead. "And what do we have in the way of resources here? Any fightin' men hereabouts who are tired of takin' the dog's portion o' things?"
Oleg bristles visibly at Adreccam suggesting he's a dog, then glances at Svetlana refilling mugs, and controls himself. When they first arrived, the bandits brought over a dozen men, a powerful woman who claimed to be the Stag Lord's tax enforcer, and a thug named Happs. The last few times it has been Happs and a host of men. The last time it was him and a half dozen that wrecked the place when the take was light. They even took Svetlana's wedding ring. At that Oleg pauses, nearly losing his composure. If you can get that ring back to me, I could make it worth your effort. She'll never admit it, but she misses that hunk of junk. Was the best I could afford but not nearly worthy of her beautiful hand. Still she said yes, and until that bastard jerked it from her, it never left her not once. Standing, stretching to hide wiping a tear from his eye, he continues. We have no regular squatters here abouts, save ol' Bokken. A bit crazy, an alchemist that occassionally trades with us potions for supplies and such. He lives just west of here, south of the border road. Other than him, we have trappers, hunters, and settlement traders that come and go. Enough to keep us going, but nothing to raise up a force to stop the Stag Lord and his goons. No, they just ride up on horseback, demand food and fare, then riffle through my stock, take their pick, take our gold, then off again until the next month.
"'Happs', eh?" Adreccam muses, a finger tapping his lip. He pulls the writs of condemnation from the satchel, shuffles through them until he finds the one pertaining to Happs Bydon. He holds it up in front of Oleg. "Seems he's on our list, as is his boss, the Stag Lord. According to our man Flynn here," he jerks a thumb back at the teenager, "the man's a fair hand with the bow. And to my everlovin' shame, he used to be a retainer of House Surtova. Does that fit what you've seen o' the man?" Adreccam pulls out another writ. "And you mentioned a woman, too? Does the name 'Valindra Ruez' ring any bells? I've got a death warrant I need her to sign, as well."
From the crude illustration on the back, Oleg confirms the man making the pick-ups is the same Happs. However, he does not recognize the name Valindra.
The she-devil that first arrived here called herself Kessel, Crasile, or Kressle, something like that. She wields dual axes, and well. Put those blade cuts there on my doorposts; threw them from the gate with Svettie standing in front of the door. From what the men have said, they fear her as much, if not more, than they do the Stag Lord.
"Oh yeah, I see her right here, next to Happs. Kressle. Didn't know it were a woman's name."
Adreccam puts his mug on a table and leans forward. "So I think I can speak for me companions here and say that your wife's ring is as good as retrieved; you needn't worry on that account. Tell us, though: do you know where these brigands like to hole up? They have a base of operations they work out of?"
"Oh yeah, I see her right here, next to Happs. Kressle. Didn't know it were a woman's name."
Adreccam puts his mug on a table and leans forward. "So I think I can speak for me companions here and say that your wife's ring is as good as retrieved; you needn't worry on that account. Tell us, though: do you know where these brigands like to hole up? They have a base of operations they work out of?"
Yeah well she may need two axes but I bet my one will work for her just fine. I say we let them in lock the door behind them and put it to them straight. Surrender or be picking my axe out of their worthless skulls. How's that sound?
Xanthan knocks back his ale. And thank you very much mistress Svetlana. That was the best meal I have had in a long time. He then lets loose a loud belch before reddening a bit and saying a bit sheepishly excuse me.
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Perhaps we can devise an even more clever trap. I seem to recall a childhood tale of a bandit who preyed upon the wicked by robbing their caravans and giving the profits to the needy. He and his men would fell a log across the wooded path, blocking the road. They had dug several shallow trenches on either side of the ambush, and covered them with branches and other scenery. From their, they would leap out surrounding the unsuspecting caravan from above AND behind. We could do something similar. Asmodeus's beard, we could even rig a pot of boiling oil to pour upon them! Simondale seems lost in childhood tales of glory and the craft of war...
"can we get a layout of your compound?"
I'll give you the 2 copper tour. Oleg's starts there in the middle, where the tables are set for outdoor guests. We have mine and Svettie's rooms here inside the shop. The former troop barracks serves for a visitor's communal hall. The stables should just be able to hold the horses, if somewhat tight quarters. The towers have catapults, I've been working on cobbling one together, but no luck so far. A few pieces are missing, taken when the troops left. I use the shed for goods storage, and where the bandits have been picking through for their choice bits. All's left are the midden and sump pits. One's been mucked out already for Svettie's garden out behind the fort. The grates are to keep visitors from falling in. Had to after a drunkard stumbled out of the barn after nipping while checking his mount. Nearly drown in compost and waste he did.
"you mentioned Svettie's garden behind the fort, is there a backdoor? Do the bandits know about it?"
No backdoor, we just walk around the outer wall. Hadn't thought of making one; the space between the inner and outer walls is packed rock and dirt. I imagine anyone that's ridden around the fort has seen the garden. It's just a roughed out and rowed garden fenced off from most large animals, save a few rabbits and an ornery gopher that have been the rue of her life out here.
Keiran thinks for a moment. "I would be tactically advantageous to have a second "exit" from the complex. Perhaps even a rope ladder or some such off the wall. Xan, Flynn, can the two of you do a quick scour of the walls to see where the best place to put something down would be, emphasizing discretion? My plan is to have the two of you circle around the fort when the bandits arrive, and effectively flank them from the rear. What do you think?"
Sounds good to me! Be nice to get the jump on them and put on the hurt. I'll go check the walls about your exit. Flynn you comin?
At that Xan will start to make a circuit of the walls, checking for a place for an alternate exit but also doing a cursory check over the walls and grounds. He is looking for spots that might be good for deadfalls and spike pits in case Oleg's needs to be defended from a more substantial force in the future.
Bisimone listens to the menfolk beginning their grande plans, but wonders, is it all really necessary. She often had to trim or tone down her fathers business plans for being too complex. Master Oleg, before the boys get too carried away, can you tell us how one of these bandit visit goes? How many should we expect, and roughly where do they go when they are here? What do they do and how do they act?
Oleg sits back down at the table, while Svetlana watches from the half open shop door, wringing a towel in her hands. Last time they 'visited', about a half dozen men came with that Happs varlot. They rode through the open gate like they owned the place, laughing and snickering. I hardly ever close the gate, save for winter storm weather, as it's too hard for one man to handle easily on his own.
He takes a sip from his mug, then continues. They start off with a few jeers and jokes, then dismount, tying the horses to the posts by the stables. They have themselves a seat at these tables, ones intended for honest guests and travellers, then order me and Svettie to bring out food and drink. They take their fill, usually more so, then settle a bit, carrying on about their latest exploits.
You can tell he hates telling this story, how he, fearing for his wife, has put up with these men stealing his life's blood each month, over and over again. His hands clench and unclench as he finishes his tale. Once done, they start pawing through the supply room and storage shed, looking over what I've got, taking the best for their master, the Stag Lord. I tried to keep some stuff back once, but they caught on and threatened Svettie. Took her ring they did. It was like they had a spy or something, telling them trades I'd made through the month. Since then, I've kept it on the up and up, while sending notes off to the Swordlords for help.
Rising, he downs the last of his ale. Now you're here, they should be here tomorrow, and I don't know what's going to happen. That, milady, is the tale of my woes. I suppose I need to help Svettie clean up, wouldn't do to have the place a mess for tomorrow's guests.
Adreccam listens carefully to Oleg's explanation of the situation and Kieran's plan for an escape route. He stands up and begins pacing, head bowed in thought.
"You ask me, when Happs and company come in, you stable their horses just like normal. Let 'em sit and get their food for 'em. When they're chowin' down, a couple of us close the front gate and lock them inside the compound." He taps a finger on his lips. "In fact, it may be better to recruit a few of the locals to do this, so all of us can help with 'negotiations'." Adreccam grins malevolently. He ticks off points on his fingers. "No mounts, sittin' down, no exit, and more'n like they won't have their weapons out because they'll be too busy stuffin' their faces. That's when we pop out from all sides and give 'em the ol' what for."
He points up at the palisade wall fronting the compound and at the roofs of the barracks, house, and stables. "High ground, with ranged weapons, from all sides. They try anything fancy, we porcupine 'em."
He looks up at Oleg and Svetlana and shrugs. "That's my two bits."
"In fact, it may be better to recruit a few of the locals... and "High ground, with ranged weapons...
Well lad, we don't have any neighbors here'bouts. Our closest would be ole' Bokken, a crazy hermit lives half a days ride from here. He occassionally trades potions and alchemical stuff for supplies and foodstuffs.
Ticking off his fingers, I do have a longbow in stock you can use, a few spears, a few javelins, even a few hand axes. If you think any of that will help.
Turning to Simondale, We have nothing like that in stock. If you know of any plants or herbs that might do such a thing, Svettie may know if it grows around here.
Well Simondale, I do have access to magicks that can render our foes asleep, but for only a short time, roughly a minute. If we take them by surprise, I may be able to put most if not all to asleep to give you fine strapping men time to swoop in and secure them. Turning to Adreccam she continues, As to the gate, if I post myself over it, I have some fiery tricks that should make them reconsider fleeing. With that Bisimone raises her hands into the air, fingers outstretched, and with a word a fan of bright flame spreads out into the air. The gout of flame spreads roughly three feet thick and fifteen feet into the air. They last but a moment, but the heat lasts somewhat longer. Turning to the group, with a smile and wink to Zan, How's that for singeing eyebrows, or other naughty bits?
I think we may be over-complicating things a bit. Keiran and I can just hide ourselves behind the door. When they all come in and sit down we nonchalantly close the doors and tell them put up their arms or we cut their bandit heads off. Easy as pie.
After eating more food than what should fit into his stomach and waiting for everyone else to speak, Flynn adds his two thoughts. I wouldn't be opposed to just sitting at the table eating myself when these bandits come. I could look like a traveling hunter or trapper who just happened to spend the night. Would give me a chance to stick one before he even knew what side of the plate to eat from.
So we attempt to get the jump on them; what shall our signal be?
"die bandit scum"?
"die bandit scum"?
"*Chortle*. This sounds like a foolproof plan that in no way will go wrong. I'm ready!"
Adreccam will spend the evening polishing his mail and sharpening his sword, and will definitely not drink any mead... well, maybe just one.
Flynn will attempt to sneak more ale into Adreccam's mug during the night, keeping the alcohol going for a little while. Flynn will not partake in any alcoholic drink. How about another drink Adreccam? For tomorrow we end the reign of these bandits.
Xan will laugh at the signal. I love it. Simple and to the point, yet vicious. Though it doesn't really give them the opportunity to surrender. So maybe "Surrender or Die bandit scum!?"
Well lad, I won't say no to you sitting out and waiting for Happs and crew to arrive, but the last hunter they caught here ended up with an arrow through his hand. Happs thought it would be funny to have the lad try to catch an arrow. Catch it, they wouldn't rob him, miss it and they take his stuff and his hand.
Is that about it?
Flynn considers Oleg's words for a moment. Despite my moment of heroic thought, perhaps it may be better if I attack from hiding. Flynn looks around the area near the tables. Specifically looking for a place within 30 feet of the tables to spring an ambush from.