"As strange as it may be, I find myself largely in agreement with Master Radu. But I feel I must point out that in the River Kingdoms they play by their own set of rules and law. It is not a place for the unbending or narrow minded."
Arumil looks over at Oz.
"So by your statement no one should ever be revived. Rarely does anyone bring back the dead without something to be gained and it cost greatly to begin with. What do you know of Necromancy. Did you know it can heal wounds, safe guard a soul, preserve the dead, weaken an enemy rather then kill, or even that it can allow you to create another body. Sorry but it is your view that leads so many to kill without thought. It is sowing seeds of chaos to dismiss anything without knowledge and fact rather then personal taste or prejudice. Necromancy is no more vile then those who use it. You know little of what you speak so you understand little on what you speak of."
He never understood those holier then thou types. Give him facts based on knowledge and proof, he could respect that. Blind devotion without free will and thought was just asking for disaster.
It heals at the cost of another. For that I would rather die. It is most foul because of the corruption it leaves on the soul. This I can see far better than you, any of you. None of you are cursed to see the sins that people bear on their souls save for people of my order and those with greater understandings of magics. For all your years yes you may have killed tresspassers but you have not faced evil. I fear the first time you do and fear takes you. Sure it can weaken your enemies but it also weakens your grip on what is true and pure. Allow me to create another body?!? I would die before I would steal someones body. What happens to their souls when their bodies are taken. Do you know this?
I do not claim to be champion but I refuse to let the corruption take place around me. Know this I will bring you back from the brink of death but I would never thrust the judgement to bring a tainted soul back either. I think this issue better be dealth with when the situation arises.
What happens to their souls when their bodies are taken. Do you know this?
Radu looks alarmed at this statement, but waits for Ozaziel to finish before speaking, I assure you, there is no magic known, necromantic or otherwise, to the practitioners of the arcane arts that can drag a soul from the clutches of even the least of gods. Nothing can be done to a corpse that will tear a soul from heaven, or from hell, save for the ressurection arts of a priest, and even then, the gods may choose to keep a soul, so that even that holy magic can fail.
Now that the conversation has turned from necromantic arts to more philosophical matters he scoffs. Souls, gods...these are just made up words that are part of fables told by priests to suck money from the poor mindless saps that choose to dedicate their lives to the dribble that comes from their mouths. Trust me if there were Gods then the none of the suffering I grew up knowing as my companion would happen.
Arumil gives Oz a narrow eyed look.
"As is common for those like you, you think that what you have been told is the truth. You lack wisdom to understand anything other then your own view. Such is why you war and spread death like no other in one name or cause. Their is no mage or priest without the power to use necromancy yet not all are corrupted as you claim, if it is so vile then why are not all its users vile as well. As for creating another body, who is to say this body would have a soul. No the purpose of creating another body is the same as to why one exist at all. To house a soul, most commonly the creator, it is stored somewhere safe. Should the creator be killed his soul is transfered over to the spare body. The simple fact that your thoughts jump to something sinister is only proving my point."
"Finally you know nothing of the elves of Kyonin. Their is not a single elven soul in my homeland who has not faced true evil, maybe it is this more then anything that gives us our clarity. If you wish to be a blind holy warrior I suggest you make your way to the Worldwound. You will find their is no pure and true path in the Stolen Lands, those who are unbending and unseeing of the reality of this world will only be a burden, as well as find their death."
He looks over at the formerly quiet Tomnus.
"Gods exist, this is proven and common knowledge. While I would not say how useful or not they are. I do not doubt their existence or power. Yet I would also have to say that they are not meant to coddle every living being. Your life is what you make of it with what you have to work with."
The worldwound only hints at the evil that is out there yet by forming shining examples we can stop the corruption. War is a part of life, a warrior is one who chooses to embrace that life so that others may live without fear that their lives may be stolen and placed in a jar or forced out for a foul source to control their bodies. I thank thee for the compliment. There can be none greater than a holy warrior.
At Tomnus, The gods exist, this I agree with the death elf. Many have been proven and elevated to divinity. Aroden, Iomadae, Irori, Cayden are just a few fine examples. Who knows maybe you will be the next to pass the starstone test.
Thom tries to tune in to the excessive discussion of matters that he rarely cared of - Father Laine had soft words, as was part of his clergy - yet Thom was never encouraged. He finds it - and them - a little condescending at the rate it was progressing. Particularly the elf. He keeps to gazing out the window (if there is one), a faint smile on his lips. Ah got requested by th' swordlords an' now ah get to serve th' people of Brevoy.
When the carriage stops, he is easily the first to trot out - clumsy as he is - glad to be out and not in the vicinity of the discussion. He gives a bow to the Lord Stanislav. "Ah s'pose ah'll see yeh in th' morrow."
When Thom returns to his hovel, he is quick to find his arms, armour and shield, and the best wear he has to fit, getting ready for the morrow.
"There is no greater pawn then a holy warrior."
He says nothing more on the matter, the man would find his death at somethings hands or time. Both ways he would remain as his people always did.
He returns to his inn and waits for the next day to be on his way. The sooner he set out the sooner he could be done with the nonsense, fate was ever the perfect teacher.
Oz smiles at the last words of Arumil before his departure. He goes to sleep with a smile on his face for in chess just as in life it is pawns that can become kings and knights.
Tomnus decides to keep his mouth shut, knowing that his views would only irratate the small minded mages. When they get back to Restov he sets off back to the Inn he had been staying at. He pretty much has everything he needs for the next day and he will spend the rest of the day getting everything ready to leave.
Radu returns home once the carriage deposits him in the square, nodding a polite good evening to Thom and the others.
He does not bother with a litter or other extravagance, but walks home at a leisurely pace, unable to move his overstuffed body at the brisk, business-like pace that he normally prefers.
His two-room apartment, scrupulously tidy, looks like a hovel in comparison to the luxurious accomodations he has seen this day, and he indulges in a rare moment of self-doubt, wondering how many years it will take before he can match such opulence, if ever.
Bogdomil, as always, starts upright, in an attempt to look like he was cleaning something, instead of malingering about, and Radu waves off his feigned activity and says, "You fool no one, get over here and help me get this cursed breastplate off."
Once the armor is off, he feels like his stomach contains a boulder the size of a man's head, and he scratches his taut belly with a sigh of relief. "I wish I could have brought you a sampling of what I ate today, if only to save myself from having to eat it. These lordlings devour more food in a sitting than a pack of wolves in a week."
"Had I not been overwhelmed by the display, I would have remembered my manners and paid thanks to the cooks..." he says, rebuking himself for the lapse in grace.
He seizes a quill and parchment and pens a quick missive to his mother, informing her of the event, in the most clipped and practical-minded tones, focusing on who was there, and not on details of food and etiquette, and of the intent to curtail bandit activity in the so-called 'stolen lands,' to improve the flow of trade in the region. He does not presume to suggest that she begin making preparations to seize advantage of the trade routes to open in the next season, with this advance information, as he knows all too well that she will have thought two moves ahead of him before she's done reading the note. With himself being out of Restov, on the expedition, he will be in no position to exploit this advantage, and he will not see it fall to one of his family's competitors...
"Bogdomil, take this to my mother," he says, waving the parchment to dry the ink, "and put it in no hand but her own. Inform her that you have been instructed to await reply, if she wishes to make one immediately, and otherwise, return here when you are done."
When the day's business is done, he prays to Abadar, to open his eyes to opportunity, and his hands to grace, before preparing his things for the day to come.
"Tomorrow, Bogdomil, we begin a new adventure, far from the comforts of home. We may have no roof over our heads, and we may have to dine on whatever game we can bring down with crossbow and sling, but the opportunities that await beggar the imagination."
***
The next morning, he sets out to visit Master Pero's shop, Bogdomil walking behind him, packhorse in tow. For whatever unfathomable reason, Bogdomil has named the ornery mare 'Swag,' and Radu has no objection to this name.
The night went by slowly - Thom could barely sleep with all the excitement that the morrow would bring. At least he thought it was tomorrow they would leave for the Stolen Lands. The rag that he called a blanket was itching on his bare skin as he tumbled around in the half-broken bed that was, frankly, too small. It was barely sunrise when he got out of bed, to break his fast.
When the hour finally arrives for them to meet outside the Master Pero's shop, he is wearing the banded mail he had been given during his militia service. On his back is his shield, and a couple of javelins. On his belt, to the right, hangs his blade. When he sees the Lord Stanislav he raises his hand. "Morning, M'lord."
"Good morning to you as well, Master O'Brian." Radu returns, nodding respectfully. He gestures to an unassumingly dressed man in gray, "This is my man, Bogdomil, he'll be leading my packhorse and otherwise staying out of trouble, as I don't pay him enough to risk injury."
He says the last with a bit of a smirk at the valet, who just shoots him a sour and very un-servant-like look before nodding greetings to Thom as well.
The next morning a small crowd of individuals gather outside of Master Pero's shop. They seem to be hired for purposes similar to you respective group.
The first crowd to arrive is a group of dwarves and halflings, armored and armed. Axes and polearms dominate their weaponry. They both ride and lead a string of sturdy mountain ponies, and have a stacked cart pulled by an ox ready to carry their surplus gear. Lord Dunkrint and Priest Kahn seem to be joining the group, having a pair of stocky heavy horses laden to travel nearby. As members of your group arrive, the nobles notice and wave a mild greeting.
The second collection of persons seems to be a minor noble, though a closer inspection confirms no actual family crest adorns his finery. His retinue of slavish servants scurries around, packing bags, and shifting gear from a few heavy crates to various packs and bags piled atop a short series of pack horses and mules. The "lord to be" notices your group, gives a polite nod, then resumes his disdain over the delays his servants seem to be causing him.
The last group to arrive before you and your peers is a rough and tumble lot. They wear studded leathers and light chain armors, wielding a series of bows, short blades, and tridents. They look over the assemblage, you included, with some measure of disdain. A banner carried by a sharp and surly red-headed woman, the leader or someone close to the position, bears a bloody smear of read on a field of green, a black three pronged trident positioned to the fore. {Knowledge Local check if the skill is available to you to identify the mark}. She chuckles at one of her men as he makes some unheard comment, clearly regarding your group, and her eyes survey each of you, marking your measure as it were.
Master Pero, noting your arrivals, shouts a greeting and calls you over, encouraging you past the other groups, and seems eager to usher you into his shop.
Radu nods respectfully to each group as they notice him, regardless of the level of respect afforded him, and steps into the shop when Master Pero waves him in.
"It was a distractingly extravagant luncheon, but I don't recall their lordships mentioning that so many would be invited along, or that some of them would be accompanying us..." he says to Master Pero, once they are inside and out of the press of the crowd.
He looked around at the other groups. He guessed these were their competition, the others sent by the swordlords to map other parts of the Stolen Lands. They did not concern him so me mostly ignored them. Moving towards Master Pero he gives a slight bow.
"Good day to you Master Pero, you wouldn't be able to help me with somethings I wish to purchase would you?"
"... but I don't recall their lordships mentioning that so many would be invited along, or that some of them would be accompanying us..."
These other lots are to explore and tame other areas of the Stolen Lands. It would easily take a decade for a single group to explore all of the lands therein and map it properly. The lords felt several groups were a better alternative. Part of the reason I was asked to assist actually, my experience in wild and forgotten places.
"... I wish to purchase would you?"
That would greatly depend on what you wish to purchase, does it not? Jacob says, offering a wink and a smile.
Oz approaches and takesnotice of the other group. His studded leather is form fitting and his sword his worn proudly at his side. He takes note of the other groups and approaches his own. Taking a place at the side of Radu.
He scrutinized the others.
Master Pero takes note of Oz's peculiar staring at the other groups, and moves to step into his line of sight before he gets far. Lad, it's never polite to spy upon others, especially while both are in the same employ. Neither Jacob, nor any of the others scanned thus far, detected as evil. Noting Oz trying to peer beyond his shoulder at the redhead, Jacob grins. Trust me, she's not evil, she's just REALLY mean, he states, gently wincing and adjusting his codpiece, and not at all interested in our particular gender.
That would greatly depend on what you wish to purchase, does it not? Jacob says, offering a wink and a smile.
Arumil gives him a respectful nod.
"I am looking for some candles, a compass, a flint and steel, and a good horse."
He spots Oz and raises his voice slightly.
"Also Master Pero if you have any spare bodies lying around do you think I could raise one as an undead minion."
Arumil gives a shake of his head and smirk at Pero making it clear he is joking.
Pero turns to Arumil, after making sure Oz is comfortable with the request not to scan the other groups in a manner that, amongst the hide bound honor traditions of Rostland and Restov, might well cause suspicion and trouble.
Candles, flint and steel, no problem. A compass, that would depend on the manner and type. A horse I do not have, but a wagon is being provided to your group, so would a bench seat be acceptable?
Smiling broadly at the undead comment, he continues I have no dead here, though at times my staff seems dead on their feet. Days like today even more so. I'd appreciate it though if you wouldn't conjure them over to your side, it's a devil to retrain good, new help.
Pero turns to Arumil, after making sure Oz is comfortable with the request not to scan the other groups in a manner that, amongst the hide bound honor traditions of Rostland and Restov, might well cause suspicion and trouble.
Candles, flint and steel, no problem. A compass, that would depend on the manner and type. A horse I do not have, but a wagon is being provided to your group, so would a bench seat be acceptable?
Smiling broadly at the undead comment, he continues I have no dead here, though at times my staff seems dead on their feet. Days like today even more so. I'd appreciate it though if you wouldn't conjure them over to your side, it's a devil to retrain good, new help.
"Well I can do without the undead and horse I guess. But I do need a good compass to make an accurate map and aid with travel. Any other suggestions on this expedition are welcome Master Pero."
Not needing supplies himself and having had a rought night of sleep, the souls of the men he left behind coming to haunt him, Tomnus arrives late to Master Pero's shop, just showing up as the woman with the flag is leaving. He pauses for a moment and studies the crest she is wielding as she ponders over him.
He walks in to the shop, his armor on and sword at his hip. Sorry I'm late all. As I won't be needing anything, at least for now, I'll be waiting for you guys outside.
Local:[/ooc]1d20+6
Tomnus recognizes the banner as Veric's Rangers, a group of anti-slavers and bounty hunters that mostly travel the River Kingdoms, rounding up individuals that escape to the region from elsewhere. Not as famous as the Bloodstone boys, but noteworthy in their own right. Dead or alive has never been an issue for them, that is certain.
"Any other suggestions on this expedition are welcome Master Pero."
With a twinkle at the mention of a good compass and accurate maps, Pero smiles. Actually, I have taken the liberty, upon agreement by the assembly, of stowing a special piece of equipment amongst the supplies loaded on the wagon. It is a magical stylus and mapping tool, an Arcanus Cartographia. With this and the stones associated with it, you group can map a large area relatively accurately, scouting 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.
Radu is fascinated by the magical cartographer, and makes sure that Bogdomil has a good look at the device. "You'll likely be responsible for seeing that it doesn't run out of parchment or ink, so best to get comfortable with the device now."
He looks over the device.
"I think I will look after it. I am familiar with such things myself and I think its best not to have it mishandled less it should break down on us."
Truthfully he did not trust any in the group to know the first thing about such a device. Radu did not seem the type to do things himself, the others he doubted even knew how the thing worked. A bad map or lack of one could spell great misfortune, as the saying went if you want something done right.
Thom has stayed out of the conversation, peering curiously at the people that showed up and feeling once again misplaced with his crude excuse for arms and armour - though he is glad to see that in sheer size he hasn't been easily outmatched. When the magical cartographer is revealed, he turns to gaze at it as he rides up to the cart. "Ah reckon ah could 'andle it too. Father Laine always said ah 'ad a gift for maps. Readin' 'em, drawin' 'em."
"Ought t' warn yeh, Ashe refuses t'pull carts."
Radu checks the cart to see if it is a one horse or two horse model.
"My packhorse can fill that role, if needs be." he says, gesturing at his own mare, which is outfitted with packsaddle, and several saddlebags, clearly not being intended for riding.
"If yeh want, m'lord, ah can take care of th' 'orse when we're restin'." Thom lets out a genuine smile - it is not pretty, his teeth mismatched and the lines of his face only stretching the scar to even worse proportion - but there is a joy in his eyes. "Ashe can attest tha' ah know m' 'orses."
The wagon is a two horse model, with appropriate steeds in accompanyment. No coachmen or attendents are included.
As to items included, aside from the mentioned cartographer, the wagon contains roughly 40 days trail rations (total, not per party member), two water barrels, a small cookpot 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, two 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 blusish white chalk, 4 carrier pigeons in a medium sized cage, two sacks of birdseed, and roughly 20 days oats and corn for the horses (total, not per mount).
Arumil gets his things from Master Pero, paying him as he thinks.
"Well that should be it, save for the writ I was promised. Don't want to be mistaken for bandits ourselves now would we."
Radu directs Bogdomil to familiarize himself with the horses. Much like Thom, he seems to have an easy way with animals, as if long-accustomed to working with them.
Unless someone else wishes to take on this duty, Bogdomil assumes the rule of coach-man, and takes the reins to the cart-horses.
Bogdomil takes off his own bulging pack, and a large sack that he was also carrying, and places them beside him on the bench, or further back in the cart, as appropriate.
"If yeh want, m'lord, ah can take care of th' 'orse when we're restin'." Thom lets out a genuine smile - it is not pretty, his teeth mismatched and the lines of his face only stretching the scar to even worse proportion - but there is a joy in his eyes. "Ashe can attest tha' ah know m' 'orses."
I can help with the horses as you wish, though I am no where as near as good as you Thom
Once he recognizes the banner of the Rangers he quickly turns and walks away hoping that he wasn't recognized. Tomnus joins the men by the wagon and the cart, seeming a bit jumpy. He quickly climbs onto the wagon and sits down, his right leg jumping a little as he sat there. Everyone ready to go, we aren't capturing any bandits and bringing them to justice just sitting here. His voice sounds a little panicked and it cracks a little.
Thom glances at the enormous wagon, peering curiously at all the supplies they have been given. Particularly the pigeons in the cages. He rides up to the cart and hops off his mount with surprising grace - though he crashes to the ground in a rattle. "M'lord Pero, d'yeh 'ave more oats 'n' corn fer th' 'orses? An' 'ow are th' pigeons trained?"
He sifts through the rest of the supplies. He had memories and experience with being out in the wilderness before - not fond ones. Ah 'ope no blood'll be shed...
"Got lots o'supplies... but wha' if we run out? Where can we resupply?"
Pero notes Thom's questions, and approaches as he replies. The pidgeons are trained to fly between this cage, and a matching cage owned by Oleg. They should give you a decent means of communication between you and he while you explore the Greenbelt. Glancing at the bags of horsefeed, understanding his concerns, he continues The feed is more to supplement what the horses graze over than actually provide for their daily needs. You would run out of stowage space were you to try and carry provender for your mounts and wagon team, as much as these worthy beasts consume. With a steady pace and ample grazing, your mounts should do alright with a bag of feed each evening as opposed to a full day's oats and corns. However, I can have a bag each of sugar cubes and apples added to the wagon if you'd like, a treat I'm sure will be well earned.
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. Veric's Rangers have aligned themselves ready to march. Your wagon sits ready to move, awaiting your group to ready themselves.
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. 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 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. Sternly his voice takes edge, The 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 seize 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 Ozaziel, 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, ready to embark upon your journey. 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, his 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, Ozaziel of Restov, 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
Arumil hears all the speeches without showing a hint of emotion. Ever predictable fangless men, they wonder why they could not hold on to lasting rule. He walks over to Oz and picks the charter from him.
"If you dont mind I will take a look at that."
He looks over the charter, figures they put the manipulatable pawn on the writ. He hands it to Radu if no one else takes a look before hand.
"I will need to see that again later on. It seems Ozaziel will be held accountable, do not expect me to follow your order's. I have no ties to any human throne."
Radu mutters softly, so that his words do not carry beyond those standing beside him, Be extra cautious with your words, gentlemen. Spies carried word swiftly to the north, for the Castellan to have been brought here before the expeditions could depart. The Castellan's words were written in advance, and he did not by accident mention treason and the punishment of enemies of the thone, wherever they might arise, as part of our task. He looks to Ozaziel and his Aldori sword, In the north, they have no love for that Aldori sword, you bear, Ozaziel. Honor is a shining coin that cannot be stolen, and so base men loathe its luster and ever seek to see it tarnished.
Radu mutters softly, so that his words do not carry beyond those standing beside him, Be extra cautious with your words, gentlemen. Spies carried word swiftly to the north, for the Castellan to have been brought here before the expeditions could depart. The Castellan's words were written in advance, and he did not by accident mention treason and the punishment of enemies of the thone, wherever they might arise, as part of our task. He looks to Ozaziel and his Aldori sword, In the north, they have no love for that Aldori sword, you bear, Ozaziel. Honor is a shining coin that cannot be stolen, and so base men loathe its luster and ever seek to see it tarnished.
Aye, and it will be honor that carries it through this pawn unto the symbol of this sword. I do expect the utmost diligence and respect from the lot of you glaring at the Necromancer. Time to strive forth and put an end to this Stag Lords tyranny. Also, it is not only me that will be held accountable Necromancer, it is all of us. So for that we need to learn we can trust one another. The pawn extends his hand towards the necromancer For the good of the kingdom
Aye, and it will be honor that carries it through this pawn unto the symbol of this sword. I do expect the utmost diligence and respect from the lot of you glaring at the Necromancer. Time to strive forth and put an end to this Stag Lords tyranny. Also, it is not only me that will be held accountable Necromancer, it is all of us. So for that we need to learn we can trust one another. The pawn extends his hand towards the necromancer For the good of the kingdom
He does not take his hand.
"I do not respond to insults. When did I ever say I specializaed in necromancy. Any spellcaster can use spells from that school. I am no necromancer, do learn to base your information on fact not assumption. Respect is earned my good man, wise men do not follow blindly least they find themselves serving a tyrant of a different sort. You have shown me no reason to trust you and your past threats are held against you. So honestly now, how can you expect trust or respect from those whom you have yet to prove yourself too. Seek to understand and then work to earn it. I don't expect anything less from anyone, even myself. Anyways I think we should get moving."
Arumil takes out his blanket and places in on top of the wood seat. He then sits, he never could get used to the hard wood of wagons.
Thom peers at the elf, with a frown in his eyes. "If ah may, M'lord elf, why are yeh 'ere? Yeh make demands, yeh talk down on us, yeh refuse t'follow orders from Lord Ozaziel - an' whyfore?"
He glances at Pero, at the Lord Stanislav and Ozaziel. "What d'yeh bring to th' good o'this group apart from yehr noble arrogance? Yeh speak of working t'earn it, but yeh refuse t'do anythin'. We 'ave been 'ired to reclaim th' stolen lands - if yeh think this job's beneath yeh, ah would rather not 'ave that liability with us. 'Ave yeh ever fought brigands that tried t'kill yeh? 'Ave yeh ever been bedridden after skirmish? Ah can tell yeh know yehr books, but d'yeh know o'th' practicalities o'bein' out o'th' field?"
He shakes his head as he returns to Ashe - not interested in the elf's reply - and he taks a powerful heave to get up into the saddle once more. "Ah only agree with one thing, M'lord elf, an' that's that we should get goin'.
Arumil sighs at it all.
"I have demanded nothing and talked down to no one. If you feel this is the case then that is a matter of yourself, it has little to do with me."
He shakes his head at the man, did they all make the same mistake even after witnessing it.
"If you must know I like all my people from the homeland served, this is not my first battle nor do I intend to make it my last. Don't let your eyes fool you Sir Thom, an elf would look the same after five hundred years as our bodies do not show the passage of time."
He gives Master Pero a knowing look.
"Good day and good luck Master Pero, from the state of thngs today you may very well need it."