It would certainly be wise to reclaim the bleakwall fully, but only once we are truly prepared to do so. I would not risk overextending our resources. We should focus on forming a strong economic base here, and create a more formal military from that improved economy. No doubt any attempts to reclaim or reinforce the bleakwall would likely be seen as a challenge by the orcs. I do not wish to provoke more assaults until I feel we are ready for them. Kain taps his chin as he thinks.
Hearthmount, tell me, what training, if any, does the militia have? Do they supply their own weapons and armor? Or are weapons supplied for them? I have a few ideas in mind, the best way to both take, and defend large open ground is mounted troops. If not more combat presence, then for tactical response and maneuverability. Are there any easily accessible resources for warhorses or similar?
Kain quickly glances outside. I would love an elite guard on griffons or the like. Though that seems more fantastical, I more or less was lucky in finding my companion. Still.. the flexibility of a fighting force capable of flight would be great. Even in small numbers... but for now, focus on the possible.
Hearthmount, tell me, what training, if any, does the militia have? Do they supply their own weapons and armor? Or are weapons supplied for them? I have a few ideas in mind, the best way to both take, and defend large open ground is mounted troops. If not more combat presence, then for tactical response and maneuverability. Are there any easily accessible resources for warhorses or similar?
"Ahem, well, I train our militia quite vigorously at least once a month, preferably once a fortnight," Hearthmount replies with a bit of handwringing. "Tragically, the turnout is rarely satisfactory, and never uniform.
"We keep a complement of spears available at the gaol and the town hall, but the rest of the militia's armaments are self-supplied. Only Sheriff Caeller and his deputies have a ready armory of their own. Even then, they are arms befitting of skirmishers rather than true soldiers.
"As for horses, neighboring Amaans is better known for the stout steeds its people raise upon that county's mountains and vales. Few of them stray across the Orphield into our moors, though."
But, there is a forge in town, yes... we've met the owner. We could persuade her into increasing production with some fresh hires.
And, certainly we could see about the purchase of horses.
But, let's focus on footmen for now. Soldiers will need to be paid, that would make attendance more regular. Not having to choose between training and feeding one's family.
The matter of outfitting town guards or a militia becomes a mite easier.
Renovating a building of that size, much less converting it into a castle, is no mean feat. A month's time sees the lion's share of repairs being made, and the stronghold is functional if not entirely comfortable. The walls and roofs are patched, and the foundations are secured. However, the work presses onward to finish additional, non-essential repairs.
During this time, your workers come forward with a few discoveries in the lower level of Harrowstone.
A secret alcove, hidden behind the rear wall of the former captain's office, is uncovered while the workers sure up the walls in the lower level. Contained within is a cache of arms and supplies, presumably meant for the former prison's guards; however, they were left untouched by the conflagration that tore through the prison decades ago.
To begin with, there are twelve suits of armor - six are full suits of mail, while the others are leathers reinforced with metal. For arms, there are four swords, four maces, and a pair of heavy crossbows complemented by several pine cases of bolts. A separate case of bolts, made of walnut and inlaid with brass, distinguishes itself from the rest.
The other oddments include four labeled healing draughts, a short length of beechwood capped with bronze, and a coil of rope that has not frayed one bit.
6 suits of MWK Chainmail
6 suits of MWK Studded Leather
4 MWK Longswords
4 MWK Heavy Maces
2 MWK Heavy Crossbows
120 Crossbow Bolts
10 +1 Crossbow Bolts
4 potions of Cure Moderate Wounds
1 Wand of Hold Person (11 charges)
1 Rope of Climbing
The second discovery is brought to your attention by an honest and forthright foreman.
"Apologies, m'lady, but two of my men have done you wrong," he begins, offering deference to the countess and her party. "They were working on the southern cellblock - a ghoulish place once called the Nevermore. They were draining the water from the flooded oubliette to finish fixing the fissures when they found something that overpowered their sense of reason. They took these items for themselves, but something must have spooked their nerves because they brought them to me last night."
The foreman thus presents the returned items to Countess Valeska. The first is a longsword. Although it is tarnished by its time spent submerged, the blade yet appears razor sharp. Two names are etched upon the fuller, one on either side. The first is the name of its former owner, Warden Hawkran; the other is the sword's own apparent name, Gatekeeper.
The second returned item is a dagger. This small weapon shows no signs of tarnish or patina despite its time underwater, and it appears to be made of a silvery metal superior to steel. The last item is a simple gold ring with an inscription on the inner band.
+1 keen longsword
+1 mithral dagger
Ring of Protection +1
When the council was presented with the findings, Shontar was eyeing the foreman. "They made a good call, your men. These unusally clean weapons could be potentially very dangerous. Our High Priest will examine them properly."
Shontar took up the golden ring and examined it.
"It's a nice ring. There's an inscription, but I don't know the language. ( ) And I can't decipher aht it means. It's a human dialect, I believe."
Meanwhile, inside both the inn and the tavern, Zokar and Sarianna explain the common complaints they've heard from residents in Ravengro and other neighboring hamlets. There are two prime sources of woe for these locals. The first is the perpetual threat of orc raids from the west. The second is the shadows that spread north from the haunted county of Virlych to the south.
"Countess, may I suggest to either send a diplomatic mission to Tamrivena, in order to make friends with our well-armed neighbours, or travel south towards Virlych. Your citizens have been complaining about haunts spreading into your county. Next to the orcs west, these things should have priority."
Valeska examines the ring and reads the inscription, 'From mother to child, from star to soul, a shield is given.' Touching, indeed. It's in Varisian, a dialect known to me.
It's the truth you know, your men and yourself by example did the right thing. Where possible the items will be used to strengthem the county and preserve it's people. I thank you.
Please present your name and the names of your men, so that they may be recorded along with the good deed. Please do not hesitate to contact us with any further findings. She places her hand on the man's shoulder, looking him in the eye and nodding.
Turning to Shontar, Yes you are right. Secure the border with the Orc Hordes, then make allies if possible with the neighbors... Virlych is the greatest unknown and not easily resaoned with. We shall consider and prepare, but a sortie might be premature, currently.
Kain! By the Gods, we have been blessed with arms and armament for the standing militia!
It is a good day!
Later... among peers:
The Orcs do not farm or herd. I would surmise their seasonal raiding pattern is based on scarcity of food. Which could mean their raids are about to stop for a span.
Enough time I pray, for us to repair the watch towers and wall.
How is the church coming?
Valeska spends her day aong the people when possible, preferably in the company of a councilperson or one of her peers.
She visits the local neighborhoods and communities as well as business as she moves quarter through quarter of the town and surrounding area, day after day.
Her objective, to understand, empathize and prioritize what must be done.
"It's early days for us all, but the building is coming along nicely. We keep the building open at all times, for any who need prayer or possibly shelter for the night. Opening it up to multiple faiths has proven smart, as attendance has increased a noticeable amount. Most people still worship Pharasma but there are a handful who visit the other shrines as well. Travelers have expressed gratitude for a shrine to Desna. There's also been some interest in the Green Faith. Honestly, it seems that the people are beginning to trust me more, thus they approach me more. I'm worried how the venerable priest is taking it though. I don't want him to feel useless, but I can't allow him overstep."
Valeska raises a brow at Faun's choice of words. Why would he start to feel useless or ever need to over step? This is his home. And inclusiveness is commendable, but... I can imagine 6 or 7 out of 10 in this region would worship Pharasma.
I could talk to him, if you'd like. Religion is not my strength, but people are.
Despite being a small town nestled between Lake Lias and the southern moors, Ravengro does not fail to keep you busy. The day after the foreman presents you with the recovered arms and supplies, Sheriff Caeller brings a spot of new business to your attention.
"A curious old woman arrived in town yesterday," he explains. "Normally I wouldn't bother you with such trivial business any more than I'd announce the birth of every new barnyard animal. However, she's been approaching folks and asking questions, and most recently she's asked to speak with that orc shaman we have locked up."
Presuming there's no objection, the sheriff readily brings you to the old woman in question. She stands in Jominda's Apothecary, requesting a poultice of agrimony and snakespike.
The old woman keeps her hair drawn in a loose, iron-gray bun. She wears an equally gray dress whose high collar and long sleeves accentuate her thinness. With a sigh, she turns her silver-rimmed spectacles to face you.
"Hmm, definitely not the elven quim...so you must be the new countess," she says, aiming her blunted chin at Valeska. "Are the affairs of this town so small that you greet every traveler personally, or am I merely that suspicious?"
Chao judges the old woman in the apothecary and notices her request for arthritis remedies. Knowing what they're for, he takes a closer look at her movements, as she might need assistance with her failing joints. If so, he'd quickly jump to her help.
"The sheriff is nervous with regards to the proprietor." Chao signs to Shontar, alerting his oblivious friend.
"Welcome to Ravengro, Mrs. Kindler. I'm a big fan. I recognized your words immediately. I have read so many of your books. Your style is ... inimitable." Shontar approaches the old lady and greats her formally with a bow and a kiss of her hand.
Valeska smiles, recognizing the woman.
Sheriff Caeller is vigilant, and brought to our attention that someone had come into town. A curious sort, asking questions... Asking to speak to the Orc Shaman tipped the balance as it is a sensitive matter and one of county security.
Your reputation precedes you. How may we be of assistance, Madame? Valeska Talanova, at your service. Shontar and Chao. The bows slightly, respectfully.
Ms. Kindler offers an eye roll but does not withdraw her hand from Shontar's gesture.
"I'd hoped to avoid making any sort of waves, but I suppose my business makes that a fool's hope," she sighs. "Like a bit of sand caught in a clam's mouth, I've had an idea rattling around my skull for some time. I've long put it off, but once news reached Ardis that we had a new neighbor, I could no longer deny the return of my long-vanished wanderlust.
"Fans of my gothic work can fume, for I've been more inclined to pursue historical novels in my twilight. In particular, my new pearl is an examination of the land of Belkzen. I can't let my work be easy, can I?" she adds with inwardly aimed cynicism.
"After exhausting written, oral, and artifact sources in Ardis and Lepidstadt, it seemed that pursuing new avenues would be a good enough excuse to visit this new county. The last time I saw anything new happen in Ustalav, it was the formation of the Palatinates five decades ago. Can't say that I'm surprised to see the pendulum swinging back the other way, now.
"As for the orc enjoying your hospitality," she digresses, wielding sarcasm as skillfully as a master cutpurse wields his dagger, "I intended to glean current information about the state of the Belkzen tribes."
Interesting indeed, if he is to be trusted. How long and where will you be staying, Miss Kindler? If you need a recommendation, we're happy to provide one.
Ravengro would make an excellent bas of operations as you went about your research. Your presence is our pleasure.
Faun advises "There's no harm in letting her interview him. He hasn't been loquacious with us, perhaps he'll speak to her. But someone should be in there with her."
"I have as much time as I want. After all, in Ardis the year is not complete if I don't give the locals reason to gossip that I've finally died," the writer jeers.
"Seeing as this town hosts only a single inn, I can guess what your recommendation might be. You're right, though - this town of yours would be my best bet for conducting my research. It's been many years since I visited Tamrivena, and I would be perfectly fine keeping it that way."
During the walk to the sheriff's office, where the orc shaman is kept in one of its few cells, Miss Kindler offers advice and insight upon your unpredictable neighbors to the west.
"The Flood Truce is beginning in the Hold of Belkzen. You'd best make the most of this time," she admonishes. She speaks confidently, drawing upon knowledge gleaned from prior research. "The Belkzen orcs observe two general seasons: the Flood Truce and the Proving Time.
"Belkzen is bisected, north to south, by a long stretch of ground known as the Flood Road. Ten months out of the year, it's just a highway of cracked mud. However, beginning around Gozran or Desnus, the spring thaw sends a deluge of water south from the Tusk Mountains, up in the Realm of the Mammoth Lords. For a brief window, during those two months of flash floods, it becomes a river that rejuvenates the wasteland into a fertile prarie. Aurochs and other megafauna migrate south, and the orc tribes put aside their conflicts to hunt these great beasts.
"The orcs also use this time to strike deals, make alliances, start new feuds, and even find mates among other tribes. This is also the time when outside merchants and travelers negotiate safe passage through Belkzen. Once the Flood Road dries up again and the truce ends, the land becomes dangerous again - especially for those not of orc blood. That's why they call the rest of the year the 'Proving Time'. From entire tribes down to individual warriors, they seek to prove themselves by defeating anyone they can."
We can parley trade and peace, as we rebuild the watchtowers. In addition to your questions, today... would you mind asking about their belief system? We are erecting a multi-faith worship center?
And, I'd like to know if there is something Orcish and not too offensive to the residents we can incorporate as a sign of good faith. Excuse any pun.
Valeska ensures that the prisoner has been restrained and prevented from casting spells, but otherwise well treated.
Upon entering, Greetings! You have a visitor. More talk, yes... But, the more you cooperate, the better you will be treated. Thank you for your time thus far.
"Multi-faith worship center?" Kindler parrots the phrase, speaking it like a riddle that vexes her. "You're ambitious, I'll give you that. Whatever feats you performed to get these xenophobic country folk to accept you, you'll have to accomplish at least twice as much to get them to accept orc-kin in their midst."
.....
The imprisoned shaman furrows his knotted gray brow when he sees a new human woman accompanying you. He is even more surprised when she delivers blunt, direct questions in fluent Orcish. If allowed, Kindler spends several hours seated beside the cramped cell in the rustic sheriff's office. She fills several pages of the slim notebook perched upon her lap with notes drawn from the conversation.
"If you're looking for a palatable orcish deity, the closest you'll find seems to be Dretha," Kindler says, flipping back through her notes. She seems to presides over what passes for domestic life among the orc tribes. Her worship may also be surprisingly common among the orcs."[/b]
Kindler pauses and traces a bony finger along the cramped lines she has written.
"Even when they adhere to this or that male god from their pantheon - almost invariably obsessed with strength, destruction, and war - the tribes also acknowledge Dretha, almost uniformly. Her domains seem to be fertility, birth, and crafts, but our 'guest lecturer' here," she gestures to the shaman, "does not disguise his dismissive attitude towards her. I suspect that, despite her provenance over what would logically be important aspects of life, Dretha and her adherents remain subjugated."
She snaps shut the cover of her notebook
"It may also be worth mentioning that my academic research has referenced a figure called the 'Dark Mother,' an epithet which I'm coming to believe refers to this Dretha. In rather forbidding religious texts, there are stories of Lamashtu warring with this 'Dark Mother.' If Dretha is a foe of the Mother of Monsters, then she may not be entirely reprehensible."
Not unlike the way women are treated throughout history, looks like dark as she may be... Dretha needs some love. Thank you, Miss Kindler. Oh, I nearly wax philosophical.
Actually, we could fix up a room for you at Castle Harrowstone. So, although there is only one singular inn, as you pointed out... one can be creative. Be our guest.
Gothic fans aside, you could take a cloer look at the old place and meet Lenora, helping us with a bit of mystery.
Valeska thought on the townsfolk's acceptance. We didn't do much, truth be told. We defended them and helped them grieve and rebuild. Human things that should be more common. Of course we bring outside perspectives, as well... which might be difficult to cultivate locally.
Would you be interested in an excursion into the Orc tribal lands? It's dangerous, certainly... but you seem to have a brave heart and sense of adventure. Research in libraries be damned. Valeska chuckles.
"Staying in a castle built atop the ruins of a once-haunted prison?" Miss Kindler muses. "My life has been a string of such gothic accommodations, and I am too old to begin turning my nose up at them now."
With only barely noticeable difficulty, she pushes herself up from her chair.
"If I could find no escort, I was resigned to discard my plans to venture into Belkzen. Apparently, no such escape is in my fate. Perhaps it is for the best. After all that I have been through, a quiet death in bed in Ardis would cheat both myself and my audience. If nothing else, I need to live long enough more to meet the orcs Burning Sun."
Departing the sheriff's office, Kindler walks to the inn, where her traveling bags have been erstwhile stored. During the stroll, she elaborates on these "Burning Sun" orcs.
"In Lepidstadt, I interviewed a vacationing merchant of Tamrivena who, either foolishly or greedily, runs caravans each year along the Flood Road through Belkzen. Last year, his caravan fell afoul of a warband who cared not for the tribal token they carried. According to the merchant, they would have been slaughtered to a man if not for the intervention of another motley band of orcs.
"Their leader was a fire-haired orc woman, and the merchant claims he saw a golden holy symbol hanging upon a rope around her neck. His description of the symbol resembles the iconography of Sarenrae. After rescuing the caravan, these Burning Sun orcs still requested a reward, but they did not press the claim with blood. I am very interested in meeting the woman who leads such a band."
Valeska is pleased with the way the conversation is going.
Perhaps tomorrow, we can press our guest on this She-Orc Warrior Princess. I do like the imagery. I don't mind sharing that with you.
I will win her over, I promise you... now, if we could just find her. Do you know where exactly the caravan was saved and if the merchant still runs that route?
Preparations will be required, and it may be some time until we stike westward.
And, I'll have someone prep a room for you at Harrowstone. Valeska is happy to continue the conversation.
Later that day.
We need to build that wall and to start gently exherting our influence in an effort to grow this community and it's ecomomy. There will be some trailblazing and conflict, but it cannot be avoided.
I would like that we command the immediate surreounding area, claiming it by diplomacy if possible or clearing it if forces encountered are hostile.
I've extended an invitiation to Miss Kindler, to stay with us at the castle. She would like to join us on a sortie into Belkzen, soon. She seeks Burning Sun orcs, honorable but still hard stock, led by a warrior-chieftainess. I wish to parley. Make allies to the West.
Faun, what if... we have a multi-faith worship center, what if we had holy symbols adorn the entrance to the town in every direction. Sarenrae to the West. When this warrior visits, she would feel welcome.
It doesn't need to be realistic, abstract may be better. Such that people recognize the motif, feel comforted and not imposed upon.
Chao nodded eagerly, when Valeska informed them of her plans. That Miss Kindler seems to be a useful help rgarding the orc threat to the west and he wanted peace more than anything.
He told his thoughts to Shontar who's mind seemed absent.
Translating for the monk, Shontar added to the conversation: "So, Chao here thinks, while peace with orcs is of great importance, we need to work from a stable base. Stable base, really?" He looks at Chao with a questioning face, who in return nodded eagerly. "Well, apparently, and I noticed the same, we should extend Ravengro's borders slightly, to make more place for our people. They're currently squeezing in the town and afraid to spread into the surrounding country. We'll increase stability among the people, if everyone has enough space and freedom and of course land to grow food. We can combine these goals , by starting to spread west, towards the broken walls and the orcs."
"The merchant only gave the location as north of the Table of Ralock," Kindler replies. "The maps I found in Lepidstadt made no note of such a place, which isn't terribly surprising. There're more cartographers willing to look for crossings through the Crown of the World than brave the Belkzen."
The somewhat abrasive celebrity author takes up a spare room in Harrowstone Castle, of which you presently have plenty. As you prepare for a potential expedition westward, you find yourselves approached by your new subjects.
"Although Silverwing makes for a proud mascot here in the castle, he is showing that he is still a chick. Er, cub. Pup? A child. You know what I mean," she stumbles over her words.
"He has been pecking open every sack and crate within reach, nipping polearms from the guards we've recruited so far, and generally being a large, feathery scamp. I was thinking about how he's partly a bird of prey, so it might help to give him his own territory, so to speak."
She points towards the central stronghold of the castle, aiming a finger towards a parapet that was once the western balcony of the old prison.
"Do you suppose we could craft an aerie for Silverwing up there? Might that keep him out of trouble?"
"Especially your strong, silent friend," he laughs. "They all like to challenge the chap to arm wrestling contests, and I haven't seen him lose yet!"
The conversation is interrupted when the tavern door slams open. A tall, strapping man saunters in with a small throng of toadies following at his heel. He wears a brightly dyed red jacket, made of far finer material than most Ravengro folk could afford, that fits tightly upon his broad shoulders and muscled frame.
His arrival elicits much excited murmuring from the other patrons in the tavern, but they are quickly drowned out by the newcomer's booming voice.
"I hear that there's a new hunter in town. Where is he? I want to see his measure."
The words come out as a challenge, and they result in many nervous eyes glancing your way.
"Miss...Faunlara, yes?"
The woman, wearing earthy yet bright common clothes, takes small steps forward. At first you suspect she may have some manner of limp or spinal curvature, but you come to realize she is simply very nervous to be approaching you. You can almost see her limbs tremble as she clutches at the neck of her dress.
"I'm Jominda Fallenbridge. I run the local apothecary. You probably don't remember me. I...I was hoping you might help me collect some plants from the lake shore. I mean, you don't have to if you don't want. I imagine you're very busy."
Obviously, Shontar wouldn't step away from a challenge. That would make him look weak. And he couldn't afford to look weak. Also, I'm the best shot in a hundred miles. What could go wrong?
"Who are you? Challenging a busy man?"
When Shontar speaks up at the Laughing Demon, the boisterous bravo struts over to where the elven hunter sits. You can't be sure whether he intentionally draws up his height to appear more intimidating or if he simply towers over the seated Shontar naturally, but the contrast remains all the same.
"Busy? Bah! You look like a genuine layabout, resting your heels like the rest of these gads," he booms, sweeping his broad, hairy hand across the common room.
He then crosses his arms to proudly announce himself.
"I am Garm von Strauss, the most accomplished hunter from Tamrivena to Ardis. I leave town for a short spell, only to return home and discover everything turned on its head - including a wispy elf being hailed as a great hunter."
Shontar wasn't impressed, he's been bullied and intimidated before. Furthermore, his ego was bigger than the room.
Shontar stand up and faces Garm. Shontar was about one or two inches taller than the man and tried to let him know that with his posture. After a moment of silence he spoke.
"Well, if you're such a great hunter, even if I haven't heard of you yet, you need to speak to Ravengro's new general Sir Arden Kain Brandt. He can always use a skillful hand for keeping the peace and training the new recruits."
Shontar hoped for a surprise turn in this conversation.
Valeska sat in a corner, having arrived earlier than nearly any other guest. True enough, this wasn't an establishment she was overly fond of, but should would not avoid or abandon any legitimate business within the borders of Canterwall.
Deviled Eggs, indeed.
Whether Shontar had seen her, she could not be sure. Perhaps Chao had.
She was nearly hurt by the "turned on its head" comment, but impressed by Shontar's steering of the conversation, delighted actually. Especially hungry this morning, she continued to eat as she watched on.
Sasha sat beside her, and he too was watching keenly. He'd grown a bit, and his claws developed, he licked them now.
The mention of Kain's effort to train new recruits raises this Garm's eyebrows in interest.
"Mayhaps I should have a look at his methods, especially to make sure he is recruiting the town's best, and not merely dressing scarecrows up like soldiers.
"As for why you haven't heard of me, well, why would Ravengro share her best stories and secrets with newcomers right away? You have to earn that privilege. Father sent me off to school up in Lepidstadt for a season to broaden my mind. I don't see the point. My mind is already as broad as my body," he says, offering a none-too-subtle flex of his muscles in a very confusing gesture.
"If you doubt my accomplishments, just ask any gent around town who it was that planted an arrow in one of Forkmaw's four eyes."
Kain listens to Lenora, and nods with a sigh and a smile. He'd noticed it as well, the feathered fox seemed only to behave when Kain himself was in his immediate vicinity. In part, that side of Silverwing had always been sort of endearing to Kain, His old horse had had the same reputation when he first met him and had honestly caused more trouble than a mischievous goblin. He honestly was half glad to not hear about the horses antics for once, though as the horse had aged, it seemed less inclined to stir up the same amount of trouble it once had.
That would certainly help, some. Though I doubt that would keep him out of all trouble. He seems to have come to enjoy... not quite pestering, but heckling people. For lack of a better word. I'd say its a good sign, likely he accepted the townsfolk as a family of sorts. So has always enjoyed trouble more than I would like. I bet he learned that from my horse Valere. Though where that horse learned it... well. He gives a sheepish grin. Best not to dwell on that one. I'd wager that, whenever he was in the mood he would fly down to town to find trouble. That said, it probably would lessen the amount of trouble he got into. What I would really like to do is manage to get him a friend, or even maybe a mate one day.
Then the thought of two like minded griffons terrorizing the town in their pursuit of a laugh almost caused him to shudder. Though... who knows I suppose... and the latter option would be hard enough from what I have read. And potentially risky so close to town. I don't fear for Silverwing, I've no fear he would harm anyone in town unless he was attacked, but I've read they get even more territorial once they nest and I'm unsure if any potential mate for him would have the same familial understanding to the citizens as he does... To be honest, it has been too long since I took him on a hunt. What with all the, well, new responsibilities I've found myself with. So likely I am somewhat at fault as well here.
Kain realizes he had started rambling before coughing slightly. Apologies, but yes, I think that would be a wonderful idea. I only wish I knew how to go about it personally. I'll bring it up to... whats her proper title now?.. baroness Talanova I think? At our next meeting. Why, I'll even ask him his thoughts. You know he can understand common right? If he doesn't listen, he is just being obstinate.
"I imagine that scolding him is much like scolding a cat or dog," she mumbles. "I doubt he would listen to anyone but you. And the thought of another one winging their way around."
She offers an involuntary shudder, then looks embarrassed to have made such a gesture in front of you.
"My apologies. I'm just still acclimating to living so close to such a fantastical creature. I wouldn't even begin to know where another might be found."
Hmm. Well, he would understand you more than a cat or dog. I'd say its closer to trying to scold a... well, a child I suppose. Though I doubt he likes being talked to like one. He is probably only a little over three years now, from what I know. I saved him when he was super young, a band of hobgoblins and bugbears had killed his parents. So I don't know his exact age, but if I had to guess based on my reading, he was probably 2 to 3 months then. They don't reach full maturity until about 4 years, so he isn't quite as big as he is going to get either... Back then, I told myself I had wanted to save him, but, I know I'd have killed them whether or not he had been there. But I'm glad he was. He helped me in more ways than one haha. He couldn't even fly then, and he had been wounded, one of his wings had been broken by them. I nursed him back to health, that was the most dangerous part. He laughs with a shake of his head
Got a couple scars from that time. Course, when I tried to let him go, he kept following me around. So I wound up buying a book on Griffons and other creatures of the like. Most griffons learn to fly between 6 and 9 months. Silverwing didn't fly until after his first year. Likely due to broken wing when he was young, and me not being a very good teacher in the flying area. He pauses a moment, a small smile on his lips as he remembers.
Now, the real trouble was when he DID learn to fly. By then Valere's disposition and personality had rubbed off on him. He'd fly off to gods know where for near whole days. Come back looking smug as any noble I'd seen. It took several times to finally get him to understand that livestock was not his food. I'm pretty sure Valere held a grudge against him for a few months that time he stole a horse... Apparently, horse meat is their favorite food, I never would have thought that you know heh. I remember one time I made stew and had starting eating before I fed him and Valere. I swear he flew down next to me, looked me right in the eye, and flipped the bench I was sitting on on purpose. He looks to lenora, a smile on his face. And I tell you now my horse started laughing when he did it. Griffons are proud creatures by nature, and as I'm sure the unfortunate citizens have realized, quite stubborn. I'll need to make announcement on ways to more easily handle him. And make sure no secrets are told around him. Because he loves to eavesdrop on folk.
He pauses a moment before continuing. You know, I had always figured, eventually he would leave, go his own way. Once he was old enough. I'd never really thought to keep him, much less use him as a mount. But, one day I realized something. And that was just how much I meant to him... It was the day he saved my life, not terribly long ago either. The caravan I was guarding was ambushed by orcs on a road on the outskirts of Belkzen. The merchant had been a tight purse, and had only hired two guards for the trip.. two guards to guard 3 wagons worth of goods. Heh. I should have known better. I remember the first notice was a pain in my leg and side. Two arrows had hit me. Needless to say, we took several of them with us, out of the 7 or 8 that attacked, only two were left when I cut Valere loose and set him running and finally fell unconscious from the pain and blood loss. I awoke several days later on a small cot in a barn in the small town we were heading to. All bandaged up, and a young, injured griffon sleeping at my side. It had been a little under 3 days ride left to go to that town. Kain stops again, looking back to where silverwing was flying. He had flown me the entire way there. After finishing off the last two bandits. admittedly, Valere probably helped with that. But, when I asked the time I'd been there, It had only been four days, and I had been asleep for two of them. He stops a moment before coughing.
As for finding others, They prefer hilly or mountainous terrain. Preferably without a lot of trees. But I wouldn't suggest just going to look for one, they can be quite territorial. Especially if they are nested. At least, that's what the book said. If I ever do go looking to meet another, it would be something I did very carefully. Ah, anyway. Perhaps we should go look for Baroness Talanova before I pester you with anymore stories.
After her conversation with Kain, Lenora has a new appreciation for the mischievous griffon in the town's midst. The cavalier notices a new tact from the recruited councilor, and in the proceeding days she treats Silverwing more as friend than a troublesome animal.
At the Laughing Demon, nothing untoward comes from the meeting with the newly arrived Garm von Strauss, at least for now. The boastful bravo wastes no time in reclaiming his position as the big man in town, though, keeping his cronies close and raising the volume level in the tavern for a long stretch of carousing.
With little time for such nuisances, the party focuses on preparations for twin endeavors. First, locals in need of work are given hoes, hammers, sickles, and other tools to better tame the grassy hills to the northeast of town. Roads will be cleared and marked, fences will be repaired, and watch posts may even be erected on the further fringes.
Meanwhile, you pack your saddlebags for a journey west, towards the Hold of Belkzen.
Miss Kindler has used her own traveling funds to secure a cart and mules to pull it.
"To think that, not too long ago, I was stuck strolling Ardis in a wheeled chair," she muses while taking a few attempts to haul her thin frame into the cart. "I'm still no spring chicken, but my limbs have gotten a bit more life into them as of late."
Deal with the Devil or clean living? After a long awkward pause, I chide. Must be the genre.
Later, We'll see the fruits of the foundation we've laid in the state of things when we return... I'm hopeful.
But, for now... let's be present and focus on the task at hand.
Shontar retreated to the back of the crowd and kept observing the newcomer a while longer, while also hiring one of his confidants to keep track and notes of von Strauss.
"I need eyes and ears everywhere, you know...", he told Chao, when they were leaving the tavern.
The next day they made preparations for the party's endeavor, both of them eager to get to know the countryside.
Once Kain meets with the others he gives a small salute. Ah, Baroness Talanova, I know its not exactly the proper time, but Lenora brought up a good point about our resident griffon acting.. well, a bit like a teenager and causing trouble. She made the mention of turning one of the castle's towers into an aviary for him, one he could leave at his leisure mind, to hopefully lessen the amount of trouble he causes in town. I thought it was a good idea overall, so I wanted ask your approval of the endeavor. It shouldn't be too difficult a task. Other than that I believe I am ready for our expedition. I would warn of the dangers, but, I believe everyone here knows already.
"Well, all I will say is that I was not the one to make any sort of deal with a devil," Kindler cryptically replies to the countess' jest.
In your absence, the town council - now ascended to be the countess' council - supervises the renovations to the northeast.
You ride westward across the rolling grasslands of Canterwall, your new domain. Fog rises from hidden creeks and streams, but it never spreads far enough to obscure your route. Many farmsteads dot the gentle knolls and hills, but most are in such a state that you cannot tell from afar whether they are abandoned or yet operational.
After twenty-some miles, the ruins of the Bleakwall come into view upon the gray distance. As the afternoon wanes, however, the inevitable dusk threatens to consume the vista in twilight's darkness. Kindler points to one of the larger strongholds upon a collection of stout hills to the northwest.
"That would be Castle Andachi," she declares. "Once upon a time, it anchored this line of towers and fortifications. Now it's the most dangerous of the entire collection. Depending on who you ask, it's variously inhabited by orcs, goblins, undead, ogres, or yet stranger things. Regardless, when we seek shelter for the night, I would suggest we look elsewhere."
That is something that certainly needs to be taken care of. Though, when we deal with it, it would be best to scout it out, and find out for sure just what creatures lurk in its shadows. After looking better at the land, I fear that we will be unable to even patrol, much less defend, all of it in our state. Even once a true soldier militia is formed. If we want to truly defend all this land, the bleak-wall will certainly have to be reclaimed. Otherwise we invite constant raids and death.
It felt good to put his mind to work thinking on more military matters. War and combat was something he knew after all. Admittedly, the greater part of his knowledge was oriented to mounted warfare and smaller, more tactical combat, still, some principles applied to both.
He leaned down, scratching silverwing's head. What do you think? Like it? the griffon looked back with an expression that said "why are you asking me? Its not like I get to hunt here."
Chao signs a rather lengthy text to Shontar.
"Well, not the worst of your ideas, I guess." Shontar replies.
Then he turns to the group. "If we seek shelter, we should maybe turn back. Not a mile ago, there was a farmstead almost out of sight that might be or might not be inhabited. Either way, it should work nicely for our purpose. We can check out the castle in the morning."
Kindler offers a derisive snort.
"If you plan to check out the castle, then I'd best turn these mules around," she chides sternly. "Were you not paying attention when I said it was the most dangerous of the Bleakwall ruins? Just because you've had a windfall of power and prestige, don't be overly confident."
She sighs after delivering the reproach.
"A farmstead would be the much safer option," she adds. "A smaller space means smaller dangers and fewer places for them to hide. Well, safety is hardly guaranteed, but it's at least more probable."
Kain laughs at Kindler. Ah, no, not now, as I said, that is something to do later, with preparation and caution. But still something that needs to be done, if we are to retake and fortify the bleak wall.
At least there will be walls at a farmstead. Haha.
You turn your steeds around and backtrack towards the farmstead that Shontar spoke of.
The farm sits at the eastern foot of a tall, stout hill. The fields are overgrown, and the fence rails jut from the tall grass like brown, broken bones. Only two buildings remain standing, albeit in a very dilapidated state.
The remains of a bank barn are heaped atop the hill like a cairn of rotted wood and stone. Only a few beams remain standing; the rest is a jagged morass of debris. The entrance to the lower level, dug out of the hillside, yet survives. One door hangs upon rusted hinges, while the other is nowhere to be seen. You can see only shadows within the dusty interior.
The farmhouse itself has fared somewhat better. It yet stands, retaining most of its original form, although its steeply pitched roof sags in the middle like a swaybacked horse. Many rotted holes sit in the walls and ceiling.
Although it appears long abandoned, the farmstead is thronged by a small herd of feral hogs - perhaps a dozen or so.
A thin trail of smoke, like that from a cook fire, curls up from the farmhouse. However, it emerges from one of the wider holes in the ceiling, rather than the stone chimney, and seems to eminate from an attic or loft.
Valeska seems nearly pleased. Looks like we are about to meet another of Canterwall's residents. We should take every opportunity to be gregarious.
"Let's circle around once first. Just to be sure there are no surprises" Shontar suggests and Hao agrees with a nod
it is likely we are the ones doing the surprising. But I agree. best to be cautious.
The feral hogs pause their rooting through the overgrowth to stare at your approach. They offer a few grunts and half-hearted snarls before scattering, fleeing to the far side of the farmstead.
As you draw closer to the dilapidated farmhouse, you can hear a shrill voice singing a discordant song. It comes from the attic, near the source of the cook fire smoke, and the words are in a language none of you are familiar with.