Kalirren's Kingmaker: Surtov Shmurtov IC Prologue

[Kalirren]

After (possibly) confirming in Restov that the charter was still valid, and being advised that the road west out of Restov was infested with bandits, you're four days out of Restov along the South Rostland Road, traveling with a moderately large caravan.

The caravan master, a habiitually loud man by the name of Snorri, estimates it's going to be the bulk of the next day before the fork to Fort Buhoslav. Anyone who's got a copy of the charter is going to be taking that fork, and will reach the fort by nightfall, while the rest of the caravan is going to be turning north for New Stetven and camping several miles down the road the other way.

When Snorri is pressed by another caravan-goer who asks why the plan is to take chances with bandits and make camp, rather than to stop at Fort Buhoslav, he somewhat derisively responds, "That's because Fort Buhoslav has no garrison. Ever since all the Rogarvia heirs vanished, and Noleski's been Regent, there haven't been any troops stationed there. I think there's only a small trading post left. More of a target than a stronghold."

You have some time to mill around as the caravan guards jovially start bringing out the cookware. People all around you are sharpening tools, borrowing tools, foraging for firewood, and meeting people, and you feel an instinctive, social pressure to participate.

[Yanisa]

After days of convincing everyone that Ambassadress Ilves won't eat people's faces or their horses, Shyladric is happy to hear she doesn't have to spend much time with these simpletons. They barely listen to her incredible intellect, her warnings of how to treat nature or even the common lessons of friendship and caring.
Shyladric decides to at least chip in, because traveling with the caravan seemed to be safer then traveling alone and goes to forage some firewood. Giving her some peach and quite and also the chance to prevent forest fires and whatever careless people do when they gather timber.

[hayabusa]

Gerrick sits down on the ground, his bedroll acting as a cushion at the moment. The sellsword is whistling a small tune as he attempts to sharpen the edge of a beat-up longsword with an equally well-used whetstone. Holding the blade edge up to inspect the blade, he gives a dissatisfied grunt before tossing the whetstone out into the forest. After doing all that he can with the blade, he sheathes it and gets up, stretching his legs as he does so.

[Kalirren]

Shyladric:

An aide-de-camp advises you against going out alone, mentioning that there are bandits afoot. He won't let a lady like you go out alone.

If you wait, you wait for less than a minute. Either way, you are approached by a woman bearing a hand axe on her belt. This detail is quickly eclipsed by the fact that she bears a wooden symbol of Erastil around her left wrist. She's not in uniform, but many of her clothes are clearly of the same make as those of the officers and men.

"Walk with me?" she offers.

Gerrick:

You're not even done shaking your knees out before you hear a call of "Hey you there!" in your direction. You look up. It's the young lieutenant, whom you've seen around running the camp. He must have been watching you for some time to have caught you so soon.

"You're lookin' for somethin' to do, right? Will ya' help Boris here split some logs for the fire?" Boris is a young strapping teenage boy. Unlike the lieutenant, he's not wearing a uniform, either.

[hayabusa]

"Not much good with an axe," Gerrick says as he walks towards the young lieutenant. He looks at the young lad, though. "But there's nothing else to do and the work needs doing. Mother always said to do your part, gods rest her."

[Yanisa]

"Shyladric isn't alone! I got Ambassadress Ilves with me!" She signs and decided waits for a moment the aide walks away. But before that she is interrupted by someone else. Shyladrics glances at the holy symbol and says: "Sure, if you don't mind Ilves the terrible face-eater or walking with an Archpriest from a different faith." She taps on her own holy symbol.

[Halae]

Sitting somewhat apart from everyone else is a girl. The normal parts about her are easy enough to see; she has pale skin with freckles, hazel eyes, and long strawberry blond hair. She looks tough, though her rather weak looking muscles suggest she's not very strong. Oddly, her facial structure fits that of someone from cheliax, though the coloration is off; save for the pale skin, the colors seem like they'd be more suited to someone native to Brevoy.

What may be more noticeable, however, are the traits that aren't so normal. From her head sprout a pair of ram's horns, her hands end in wicked claws, and from her rear sprouts a hairless tail, which looks flexible enough to hold things on its own. Finally, her legs are almost entirely covered by fur, ending in a pair of hooves. There's no doubt to onlookers that she's of infernal blood.

She's currently wearing a long dyed blue leather coat, a comfortable looking cotton shirt, and a long skirt where one of her legs peeks out from underneath, as she's sitting in this position for comfort. She's also fiddling with a very strange looking mask that sits in her hands. Upon closer inspection, the fiend-shaped mask has grooves and lines carved into it, but smooth like from an unseen power. These markings are almost painful to look at, as they carry the weight of pure agony.

She's trying to keep herself apart from the group. It didn't matter what plane you were on - material or otherwise - not many people liked or trusted tieflings, and she's acutely aware of that fact here.

[horngeek]

And standing next to the tiefling is a young-looking woman. Golden eyes look out across the campsite, while pure white hair waves slightly in the wind, the young woman smiling. It's an interesting contrast, one so obviously touched by the Lower Planes, next to one who is almost as obviously touched by the Upper. Overall, the Aasimar's features look as if she's from either Cheliax or Brevoy, and it's hard to tell exactly which.

As for her own clothing, the aasimar's wearing scale armor, with a tabard over it bearing the symbol of a white fleur-de-lys on a background of blue, a symbol and coloring echoed on her shield, which is currently slung over her back, along with a longsword.

Olivia smiles at her friend. "Well, it looks like almost everyone here's having fun..."

[Halae]

"Well I'm not," Tawny says huffily, "After the debacle with someone stealing my rations I've had to keep a close eye on my things, and I'm tempted to go and scare people straight if they keep looking at me funny."

[horngeek]

Olivia sighs. "Do you want me to watch your things for a bit?"

[Halae]

"It's fine," Tawny says, sighing. Both of them know she doesn't have the confidence to go and intimidate people without the mask on. It makes Tawny feel powerful, mainly because it's a physical manifestation of her power, of course, "I just hate it when people feel like they can feel free to do whatever to me. 'Oh, she's a tiefling! she must have stolen all her things! It's not stealing if I'm taking things back, right?'"

[horngeek]

Olivia sighs, sitting next to her friend. "They're idiots who can't see beyond the surface."

[Great_Cthulhu]

Lithia leads Winterstorm to the trough. The Chelaxian pureblood is exhausted and so is its owner. The tall, strongly-built woman watches her horse drink, leaning against a tree and slowly sliding down along it, her armor clattering.
The trip from Cheliax had been harrowing...and expensive. Too expensive. With a rueful expression, Lithia opens her purse and counts the few meager coins in it.
Bringing the law to the lawless was one thing...but if she starved along the way, the task would be that much harder to do...
Interestingly, she only spares a cursory glance at the tiefling and even gives the girl a curt, but polite nod.

[Kalirren]

Shyladric:

"Yes, Ms. Ilves here will keep us both plenty safe, won't she?" the Erastiline woman remarks with a smile. She walks over to where her cart is parked, right behind the guards' train. "And anyone who would mind walking with someone of a different faith doesn't deserve to be an 'Archpriest', don't you think? Here, catch." She chucks Shyladric an empty bucket.

She turns her head and yammers off to the left, "Don't let'em wander off too far, this time, all right?" to whomever is tending the horses, which apparently is no one. Gesturing for you to follow, she continues going off, away from the campsite across the rain-soaked sod towards the nearest stand of brush.

Olivia/Tawny:

Coming your way is a young man dressed in a loose shirt and wearing a pied skirt over tight-fitting leggings. You have to fight to suppress a groan as he approaches, because you sure do recognize him. This slightly obnoxious boy has been hitting on every woman who looks the slightest bit nubile in the caravan with varying degrees of success. Apparently it's taken him four days just to get to you.

He's carrying three bowls in his left hand as he doffs his cute hat with his right. "Hallo," he opens. "My name's Leeroy. I haven't met you before." Both of you can tell that it's primarily Olivia that he's interested in, though he's understandably curious as to what's been behind that mask all this time.

Lithia/Gerrick:

Searching for a nice, solid rock to do the splitting on, Boris comes to the same trough from which Lithia's horse is drinking out of. Gerrick now has some idea why the lieutenant thought Boris would need supervision. As it turns out, the boy is very easily distracted.

Boris takes one look at Lithia, and whatever chore he was given just sort of falls out of his head. "Wow. Where are you from?" he asks with unbridled interest. "You must be from far away."

[Halae]

Tawny

Well, he can get as much of a look as he likes. Tawny gives him a flat expression. Cute or not, the person she was interested in was already here, and this guy seems to be following the philosophy of 'Cast a wide enough net and you'll catch something.'

"Tawny," the tiefling says. It's a very cold sort of response.

[Kalirren]

"It's a pleasure, Tawny." At least he's consistently gallant, if persistent. "Listen, uh...I've noticed you two tend to eat alone," he ventures, "so, I wanted to invite you to share dinner with my sister and me. We also just lost company. I already got a good fire going, and she's about to start the stew. Shall I tell her to make a double batch?"

He offers one of the wooden bowls.

[Yanisa]

Shyladric:

"Yes, Ms. Ilves here will keep us both plenty safe, won't she?" the Erastiline woman remarks with a smile. She walks over to where her cart is parked, right behind the guards' train. "And anyone who would mind walking with someone of a different faith doesn't deserve to be an 'Archpriest', don't you think? Here, catch." She chucks Shyladric an empty bucket.

Shyladric's shrugs "People are quickly offended when they realize I am the better one." She sighs. "Sorry but I am getting a bit jaded after dealing with many of these mistrustful people. It is good to talk to someone friendly for a change. By the way why do we need a bucket for wood collecting?"

[horngeek]

Olivia blinks, and then looks at the Tiefling questioningly. If it was just her, she'd make an excuse, something that didn't let the guy down too badly. But... she had to admit, Tawny could do with some interaction that wasn't hostile.

[Halae]

Tawny

The tiefling looks up at her aasimar friend, raising an eyebrow. She wasn't sure if she should, but... well, what he'd said was true. She and Olivia had run out of conversation topics days before, and it was getting extremely boring.

"... Alright, I'll come," she says tentatively. Gone is the confrontational veneer. She seems vulnerable.

[Kalirren]

Shyladric:

"Well, Ilves certainly does look ferocious," the woman jests. "As for that bucket, we're going to strip the firewood of its water," she explains with a smirk, as her boots continue to squish squish across the landscape. You notice how readily the ground springs back after her step. Ambassador Ilves is doing it instinctively, but Ilves is a cat. How is she doing it? "That's to catch the water. There's no other way we're going to get enough wood for all the fires people will build, with how much it rained today. Someone's going to get cold."

She comes to the brush, and starts picking up sticks, favoring a kind of shrub which has hollow wood, uncaring for how wet they are. Once she runs out of dead and down, she simply steps into the nearest large brush, and uses her axe to cut dead branches off. The dead inner wood is weak, and yields. She hands branches out to you as she gives the shrub a pruning.

Once the bundle's grown big, she comes out a few scratches for the worse. She proceeds to tie the whole bundle up with her leather belt. "Now set the bucket underneath and watch," she says, holding the bundle vertical. "Old Deadeye has some tricks up his sleeve."

The Erastiline woman raises her left hand high, and her wooden symbol glows warm. She then runs her hand down the side of the bundle, and strips the moisture from it as one might strip the leaves from a twig. A tiny torrent issues from the fagot, leaving it dry. The bucket is about a quarter full. "My name's Alexandra, by the way," as the last few drops from the first bundle drip away. "I thought I caught your name earlier. Is Shyladric what you go by?" She shakes it for good measure, checking its final heft, and proudly gives it to you to hold, before taking it under her arm.

"Why don't you try the next bundle?"

Olivia/Tawny:

"Marvelous." Leeroy first hands Tawny a bowl, then Olivia one too, before setting off towards his corner of the circle of wagons and carts. "I'll let Abby know. She'll love your company. Do join us soon."

Do you head over before he comes back?

[Beowulf DW]

Yorveth keeps toward the edge of the camp, doing an informal patrol of sorts. Though not employed by the caravan, his old habits from his days as a scout have been slow in dying, and keeping watch at an encampment feels natural to him. Yorveth hasn't spoken much in the past few days, save for a few conversations with the Erastiline woman that just walked off with that loopy girl.

[Kalirren]

Yorveth:

Seeing Alexandra walk away from camp with that girl in tow makes you wonder, for some reason, exactly how far away they might be planning on going. You cannot help but reflect on how comparatively reticent Alexandra was with you. Not that she wasn't friendly - she was. But you heard the two of them just meet, and you're certain that Alexandra opened up far quicker to that girl, despite her loopiness, than she did to you.

You know they'll be fine together, no matter how far off they decide to go. Alexandra knows her way around terrain like this. As an idle activity three nights ago, you tried tracking her around the campsite, which proved surprisingly difficult. She's at very least a seasoned traveler.

You turn the other way, and in circling the camp you also come to Boris and Gerrick splitting wood.

[Yanisa]

"Well, Ilves certainly does look ferocious," the woman jests. "As for that bucket, we're going to strip the firewood of its water," she explains with a smirk, as her boots continue to squish squish across the landscape. You notice how readily the ground springs back after her step. Ambassador Ilves is doing it instinctively, but Ilves is a cat. How is she doing it? "That's to catch the water. There's no other way we're going to get enough wood for all the fires people will build, with how much it rained today. Someone's going to get cold."

She comes to the brush, and starts picking up sticks, favoring a kind of shrub which has hollow wood, uncaring for how wet they are. Once she runs out of dead and down, she simply steps into the nearest large brush, and uses her axe to cut dead branches off. The dead inner wood is weak, and yields. She hands branches out to you as she gives the shrub a pruning.

Once the bundle's grown big, she comes out a few scratches for the worse. She proceeds to tie the whole bundle up with her leather belt. "Now set the bucket underneath and watch," she says, holding the bundle vertical. "Old Deadeye has some tricks up his sleeve."

The Erastiline woman raises her left hand high, and her wooden symbol glows warm. She then runs her hand down the side of the bundle, and strips the moisture from it as one might strip the leaves from a twig. A tiny torrent issues from the fagot, leaving it dry. The bucket is about a quarter full. "My name's Alexandra, by the way," as the last few drops from the first bundle drip away. "I thought I caught your name earlier. Is Shyladric what you go by?" She shakes it for good measure, checking its final heft, and proudly gives it to you to hold, before taking it under her arm.

"Why don't you try the next bundle?"

Silently Shyladric obverses the women walking, having seen weirder things and not want to scare away the one person that didn't instantly yelled her off for 'preaching against the current gods'. "Strip it of it's water? And here I thought setting things magically on fire was the easy way." Shyladric says half sarcastically and half jokingly. "It has been cold these nights... I already lost my blanket, Ilves is a perfect replacement, but so many here don't share..." She murmured.

"Alexandra eh... I once knew a gal with the same name, but she had a tail... and fangs... but yeah, my name is Shyladric Xymerly and a bunch of titles depending on my mood and the crowd." She looks at the bucket. "I give you this... You also get water this way... and probably a lot less smoke from the campfire..." Shyladrc takes over the axe and starts to gather some twigs.

[Beowulf DW]

Yorveth:

Seeing Alexandra walk away from camp with that girl in tow makes you wonder, for some reason, exactly how far away they might be planning on going. You cannot help but reflect on how comparatively reticent Alexandra was with you. Not that she wasn't friendly - she was. But you heard the two of them just meet, and you're certain that Alexandra opened up far quicker to that girl, despite her loopiness, than she did to you.

You know they'll be fine together, no matter how far off they decide to go. Alexandra knows her way around terrain like this. As an idle activity three nights ago, you tried tracking her around the campsite, which proved surprisingly difficult. She's at very least a seasoned traveler.

You turn the other way, and in circling the camp you also come to Boris and Gerrick splitting wood.


Yorveth calls over, "Need any help? If there's a lack of axes we could take turns."

[Kalirren]

Beowulf:

The boy is about to take a chop, but at your suggestion, he instead lowers his axe and hands it to you with both hands, handle first. "Sure, why don't you take a turn while I go fetch some more axes?", he says, trying to walk past you back towards the wagon circle.

You get the feeling despite his eagerness that if you let him go, it'll be you two doing the log-splitting.

Shyladric:

"That's the easy way to light a fire," agrees Alexandra, "But not to keep one going. Besides, it saves a trip to the spring." She takes a quick drink by pouring a bit straight out of the bucket. "People here tend to be poor, too. It's not their fault if they don't have a blanket to share. Or are you thinking of someone in particular?"

"You're pretty new at this, aren't you?" she remarks as you proceed. "I took you for the bookish type at the start. Who was your elder?"

[Beowulf DW]

Yorveth's hand flashes out to catch the boy by the arm. "Hold it. We'll take turns. Builds character. And muscle. We'll have the girls swooning by the time we're done, eh?" says the half-elf with a laugh. He takes the axe and gets to work.

"My grandfather made me chop wood every morning before letting me practice with a bow. It was only years later that I figured out that he was helping me to build enough muscle to pull a proper longbow."

[Yanisa]

"No one in particular, it's just the attitude that bothers me. I only have one blanket so I am going to keep it no matter what happens. And it's not like the rich people share either... And whoever borrowed my blanket isn't probably going to bring it back. But don't mind me, I'm the crazy one according them." She rants and ends with sigh.
"Pardon me? New to this? I have spent many months alone in the forest." She looks at Ilves, hoping the cat would nod or give a thumbs up. "Wet wood usually won't burn, but with a bit of magic it lasts as long as normal piece. Besides don't you types make water like I start fires?" She noticed she was getting more irritated, there was a reason she wanted to do this alone. She took a deep breath and dove into the next topic.
"I have got a lot of elders... but the only one I respected was Vernon of The Scarred Forest."

[Halae]

Tawny

Tawny gives one last look towards Olivia, before she stands and begins walking in the direction Leeroy went. Some extra company for dinner might be nice.

[Kalirren]

Shyladric:

Red-haired Alexandra is reduced to giving sympathetic shrugs. "Compassion has its limits. Always runs out before it gets to women like us. We own ourselves, and that's all we ever have in this world. And each other, I suppose."

"Vernon of the Scarred Forest? I don't know of him." She seems very willing to drop the rest of the conversation. You've clearly piqued her curiosity. "Tell me of him. Why was he special to you?"

Yorveth:

Boris allows himself to be spun around. He's trying to put on the air that as long as someone else is taking first shift, he's willing to watch. Yet he looks on, arms folded across his chest, as if a challenge has been posed to him.

"A bow...? But I don't -want- to become an archer..."

Tawny:

You see Leeroy helping helping his sister cut up potatoes and carrots, while Abigail uses a mortar and pestle to mash up some nut paste. He chances to look up, and a smile creeps around the corners of his wide mouth. "Aha! A visitor...!" he teases, with a knowing smile. He gestures magnanimously to his left. "Have a seat!" True to his word, a stretch of heavy, woven muslin is folded into a makeshift cushion and draped over a log. "Abby, this is Tawny," he says, as if he's known you since you both were five.

"A pleasure, Tawny," she acknowledges simply. "My name's Abby. The two of us come from Nivatka's Crossing. Where are you headed?"

Nivatka's Crossing is the small palisade-town you stopped in two nights ago on the northeastern bank of the Shrike downstream of Restov, where someone actually tried to pick a drunken fight with you. Now that you think back on it, the man probably was trying to pick up Olivia and thought you were in the way. Does the place just export lechers?

[Beowulf DW]

Yorveth brings the axe down and reaches for another piece of wood.

"Then what do you want to be? A sound body and knowing how to do your fair share can take you far in most things."

[horngeek]

Olivia smiled slightly as she sat, waiting for the meal. "We're heading for the Greenbelt- we would have taken the west road if not for the bandits we heard were there."

[Halae]

Tawny

"This is Olivia, Abby," Tawny introduces, "And she's right. We've heard of some opportunities down there that suit us." She's being quiet about the charter. Don't know who all might come after them because of it; she's sure some bandits wouldn't want a pair of planetouched girls poking around their territory, and less people know, the better.

[Yanisa]

Shyladric:

Red-haired Alexandra is reduced to giving sympathetic shrugs. "Compassion has its limits. Always runs out before it gets to women like us. We own ourselves, and that's all we ever have in this world. And each other, I suppose."

"Vernon of the Scarred Forest? I don't know of him." She seems very willing to drop the rest of the conversation. You've clearly piqued her curiosity. "Tell me of him. Why was he special to you?"

"He might have had a different name before I came across him, but I think barely a handful of people ever met him. Vernon taught me that within the struggle of nature beauty can be found. That nature is far more then just a pile of plants and animal together, but all around us. And that as cruel and violent nature can act, there is also room for friendship and compassion, even among the smallest of animals. Ilves showed me that animal can act selfless, even though most of the time they are selfish because they just try to survive. Hence her title ambassadress. I try to bring these lessons to the other human..." She sighs again, remembering a different time. Then she smiles and states: "At least I try."

[Great_Cthulhu]

" I'm from Cheliax", Lithia said to the boy, nodding towards him. " That's far southwest from here. Now, go ahead and do what you were told to do." She smiled, but looked at him sternly.

[Kalirren]

Lithia/Yorveth:


I'm from Cheliax. That's far southwest of here.

"Does everyone from Cheliax have such black hair?"


Then what do you want to be? A sound body and knowing how to do your fair share can take you far in most things.

"...I want to be a doctor. At an academy, in mathematics." The boy is clearly caught between being put on the spot and being impatient to a fault. "I can tell you why axes don't have pommels but swords do..."

Olivia/Tawny:

"Olivia, pleased to meet you." Abby chuckles a bit. "The Greenbelt? Welcome then, we're already here." Leeroy laughs at his sister's comment, carefully sliding the root veggies into the pot. He explains. "The Greenbelt begins where my lord Maegar Varn's holdings end, which was about two hours ago that way," he points back along the road you came. "Technically, anyway. You can draw a line on a map, doesn't mean a darn thing. Especially when the land itself seems to resist surveying..."

"Oh shush," interjects Abby. "Don't frighten our guests with your babble."

Leeroy relents. "Well, I'd advise you against trying to farm in the Greenbelt because of all the banditry, but you don't seem to have brought tools, so you must have something else in mind. Why would you be headed there?" His eyes linger on Olivia's heraldry, trying to place her. He seems to want to ask something on the tip of his tongue, but decides not to venture it.

Shyladric:

"Nature is neither compassionate nor spiteful. These are ideas that living things have to create for themselves," agrees Alexandra, or so she thinks. "I remember being frustrated at my own elders for not having those answers when I needed them, but then I realized that they were trying to make their faith universal, when it really wasn't. 'Tis why we have gods, and not just a god, I guess."

As you hand her another stick, she says, "'S probably enough there." She helps you wrap up the bundle, then holds it out for you over the bucket. "You want to try? Separate the water. Leave the earth and flame. It looks like a pulling, but feels more like a squeezing to me."

[Yanisa]

Shyladric:

"Nature is neither compassionate nor spiteful. These are ideas that living things have to create for themselves," agrees Alexandra, or so she thinks. "I remember being frustrated at my own elders for not having those answers when I needed them, but then I realized that they were trying to make their faith universal, when it really wasn't. 'Tis why we have gods, and not just a god, I guess."

As you hand her another stick, she says, "'S probably enough there." She helps you wrap up the bundle, then holds it out for you over the bucket. "You want to try? Separate the water. Leave the earth and flame. It looks like a pulling, but feels more like a squeezing to me."

"I do like to believe that compassion is in all of us... human... plant... animal or what else." She nods. "I know that feeling of frustrating elders. although I felt more pity for Vernon. He was too afraid to deal with the world and hide instead. Even though he inspired me a lot I felt following his footsteps would just means his life lessons would die out and no one would have heard of them."
"I gave the idea of a universal faith up a long time go before I even started. I stick with the smaller lessons of friendship and such... Which is already a lot harder to preach then I expected."
As she gets handed the last stick she looks at the bucket. "Me try...? Like I said I'm far better with settings things on fire... I mean I never have done it but I can try?" She focus her mind on the bundle hoping that her magic would do something unexpected magical. Squeezing the bundle in her hands as hard as she can.

[Beowulf DW]

Lithia/Yorveth:


"Does everyone from Cheliax have such black hair?"


"...I want to be a doctor. At an academy, in mathematics." The boy is clearly caught between being put on the spot and being impatient to a fault. "I can tell you why axes don't have pommels but swords do..."

Yorveth takes another swing. "Axes need their weight to be concentrated toward the axehead for a more powerful blow. Swords need to have their weight balanced toward the hilt for better control, though there are exceptions. Is that about right? I'm no mathematician. It took me two years of constantly being around weapons to figure out why they're made the way they are. How'd you figure out, boy?"

[Kalirren]

Shyladric:

"Go ahead, that's good. Start at the top or the water you push out will just soak back in as it runs down." She nods as the first drops start thudding into the bucket. "Wonderful."

You were picking drier firewood, so you get less water out of it. The bucket's a short third full now. "Shall we be heading back?" she invites, as she picks up the bucket and starts heading back to the wagon circle.

"Friendship, ha. By that you mean friends like Ambassador Ilves here?" You know that she means that seriously, as much as it might sound like a joke coming from anyone else. "Everyone and their brother wants to know that they have a talking dog, but no one wants to hear what that dog is saying. And so the great cycle of life continues." Squish, squish. You think she's doing it by walking on the grass as if she were walking on ice. "Meanwhile, can't shake the feeling that Ol' Deadeye's priests just want a woman to clean and cook and tend children so that they can do whatever it is their passion is for, I don't know, the copulation of sheep - oh hey, Yorveth." [...]

Yorveth, Gerrick, Lithia:

"Short swords need pommels too," Boris points out, correctly. Chop. "And cavalry sabres don't. A pommel helps center the blade's impact at the tip, so it can give a blow like an axe, but be lighter." Chop. "Pommel too heavy makes a sword-shaped shield. Pommel too light makes you want to hold the sword by its blade." Chop. "How I learned this? Lieutenant Ivan is my brother, actually, and our pa is a locksmith. But Pappy's trade is hard work, 'n I know that." Chop. "Pa traded apprentices with the swordsmith at the city armory. Now I just want to design weapons. I want to design an entire arse-"

The rest is confusion, because Yorveth hears Alexandra's familiar voice coming up behind him for some distance, but doesn't make out words until Boris stops trying to talk over her in his excitement. "...the copulation of sheep - oh hey, Yorveth." Chop. [...]

Shyladric, Yorveth, Gerrick, Lithia:

[...] The returning woodswoman seems to be in a good mood. "Will you do me a favor and take this bundle of firewood over to Leeroy there?" she asks, indicating where Olivia and Tawny are sitting. "It looks like he and his sister have guests again. I owe him a bundle he wanted delivered tomorrow, but maybe he needs it tonight?"

Boris turns to Yorveth and extends his hands for the axe. "My turn?" All this talk of cutting things is really making him eager.

[Beowulf DW]

Yorveth hands Boris the axe haft-first.

"Careful, now. An arsenal, eh? That's a lucrative career, you've picked. Lots of powerful people will pay well for well designed weapons."

Yorveth tries not to distract this easily distracted boy as he takes his turn with the axe.

[hayabusa]

"A lieutenant and a locksmith?" Gerrick says, hiding the slightest edge of a scoff in his voice. "It's good advice, though, no matter where it came from, but if you have the gauntlet for it, there's one reason why you'd want to hold onto the blade. Close fighting, they won't expect it, not usually. Reverse your grip on the pommel and take the blade around the middle in your other hand. Now swing that thing like a warhammer into the enemy's face, using the handguards as business end.

Axes are good weapons, though. Much more used to a blade, though."

[spoiler]
Sorry for the slight delay. Yesterday was Free RPG day and 12 straight hours of RPG goodness. Needless to say, I was exhausted this morning.[/spoiler[

[North_Ranger]

Arash

Shhiiink. Shhiiink. Shhiiink.

With every swipe of stone, the blade is brought to sharpness.
I am His sword, and I will keep myself honed, so I may bring death to His enemies.

In Ragathiel's name.

Sitting within earshot of the fire and the people gathered around it, a dark-haired figure in a long, dark red cloak seemed to be lost in thought. Yet his hands kept working. One gauntleted fist held the handle of a bared bastard sword, while the other ran a whetstone in steady, methodical rhythm along the blade.

Shhiiink. Shhiiink. Shhiiink.

With every swipe of cloth, the armour is freed of rust.
I am His armour, and I will keep my mind clear, so I may live and fight in His honour.

In Ragathiel's name.

He had been like that ever since Restov, the armored and armed man of Varisian features with a strange pendant on his neck. Wrought in iron, the pendant bore a symbol: a scarlet wing and a sword over it. He hadn't talked much, save giving his name. Arash Ignezi.

Shhiiink. Shhiiink. Shhiiink.

With every touch of a hammer, the shield is brought back to shape.
I am His shield, and I will keep myself strong, so I may safeguard the realms.

In Ragathiel's name.

He didn't talk much, this Arash... but whenever he was around you got the feeling he was listening, sharp and alert, as if waiting for something to happen at any given second. He did help around the camp, offering to take patrol and guard duties, but mostly he remained by himself. Ever watching. Ever listening.

Shhiiink. Shhiiink. Shhiiink.

With every crack of flint, a torch is lit in the darkness.
I am His fire, and I will burn bright, so I may ward off the fiends that lurk in the shadow.

In Ragathiel's name.

[Miraqariftsky]

There was a short, scraggly-bearded man among the caravan who had mostly kept out of the others' way. A scraggly goatee and mustache jutted out from beneath the shade of his Tian conical rush-hat. His wiry body flexed fluidly with every step beneath a weathered green cloak with hints of a Minatan sailor's vest beneath it. Beneath that still was the creak and clink of leather and chain.

He bore spears and small blades with the ease of a practiced woodsman...

...but walked, or rather, shambled with the grace of the walking dead. He bore his unsaid ache stoically, however. He forced himself to execute morning rituals of calisthenics and weapons practice as well as bow stiffly in greeting towards the those whom he met. Though he'd surely chanced certain curious or admiring glances towards the two planetouched ladies, he'd kept decorum and simply bowed respectfully.

That Arash fellow, though? The woodsman kept a watchful eye on that frigger when he could. Being of the warrior-caste or a militant priest is one thing... but one who doesn't do chores and just keeps sharpening his steel? That's a tiger on a folded paper leash, that is.

At Nivatka's Crossing, though, he'd detached himself from the caravan's edges at the fringe of the forest and intercepted the drunken lout making for the ladies, clocking him hard. The hatted woodsman then retired to the palisade-town's squat Frisky Fox, a tavern, inn and house-of-comfort.

He'd woken the next day, relaxed and with a slight reprieve from the chronic nightmares that had steal his sleep every other night, or week, or month. Making haste, the woodsman strapped back on what little gear he carried on his person and followed the caravan's wide, easy tracks---

---and ran ahead of them.

Presently, he returns, one gauntleted hand holding onto his straps, the other using a battered-looking hooked lance as a walking aid, a hastily cobbled-together frame and harness on his back, bearing several bundles of chopped and corded firewood. He reeks of sweat and the scent of fresh-chopping.

Groaning, the short, hatted woodsman slowly kneels and unloads his cargo in front of Gerrick, Yorveth, Lithia and Boris. He then bows again, then as he straightens, doffs his hat, revealing a young yet hard-featured face. He says to them, "I, Zhubin Nanami, apologize for having failed to return to the caravan promptly. Here is my... restitution."

[hayabusa]

Gerrick looks on with surprise at the bounty of firewood on the ground next to him and the others. He nods at the newcomer and asks him if he needs something to drink. "You been at this all day?" he asks.

[Miraqariftsky]

Narrow, corded shoulders shrug. A faint quirk of a smile tugs at one corner of Nanami's mouth. He breathes, "What poison have ye, chief?"

He inclines his head a fraction and says, "Could say that. I... simply pay... my debt to the group. With interest. It would be most improper, to be able, and not to help."

[North_Ranger]

The rhythmical chafing of stone against metal stopped for a moment, and Arash tilted his head, looking at the half-orc with a slightly raised eyebrow.

[Miraqariftsky]

Keen, wolfish ears twitch towards Leeroy's campfire and Nanami's nose flares at the scent of the food being prepared there.

Though hardy and nimble, Nanami is not as strong as many other orcbloods. Still a bit winded from his recent exertion, he takes a deep breath, then struggles to stand and leans upon his back-frame for hauling the whole load of wood that's even taller than him.

After taking a swig from a battered canteen, he shrugs his pack back on, then, making sure to bend his knees and prepare his shoulders, heaves the whole lot back up with nary a complaint. Hooked lance once more in his hand, he grounds the butt, nods to the men around him and asks, "Gentlemen. Unless I am mistaken, they need our load most over there. Is that not so? Shall we, then?"

[Yanisa]

Shyladric:

"Go ahead, that's good. Start at the top or the water you push out will just soak back in as it runs down." She nods as the first drops start thudding into the bucket. "Wonderful."

You were picking drier firewood, so you get less water out of it. The bucket's a short third full now. "Shall we be heading back?" she invites, as she picks up the bucket and starts heading back to the wagon circle.

"Friendship, ha. By that you mean friends like Ambassador Ilves here?" You know that she means that seriously, as much as it might sound like a joke coming from anyone else. "Everyone and their brother wants to know that they have a talking dog, but no one wants to hear what that dog is saying. And so the great cycle of life continues." Squish, squish. You think she's doing it by walking on the grass as if she were walking on ice. "Meanwhile, can't shake the feeling that Ol' Deadeye's priests just want a woman to clean and cook and tend children so that they can do whatever it is their passion is for, I don't know, the copulation of sheep - oh hey, Yorveth." [...]

Shyladric somehow expected something more magical to happen... Maybe she misinterpreted the glowing symbol. she shrugs... at least know she knew she had the power to squeeze branches!


Shyladric, Yorveth, Gerrick, Lithia:

[...] The returning woodswoman seems to be in a good mood. "Will you do me a favor and take this bundle of firewood over to Leeroy there?" she asks, indicating where Olivia and Tawny are sitting. "It looks like he and his sister have guests again. I owe him a bundle he wanted delivered tomorrow, but maybe he needs it tonight?"

Boris turns to Yorveth and extends his hands for the axe. "My turn?" All this talk of cutting things is really making him eager.

As they arrived at the campsite Shyladric nodded in agreement. She greeted the group of woodcutters. She takes a bundle. "I will bring them." and walks towards Leeroy, his sister, Olivia and Tawny. "Heya... I bring a bundle of campwood from Alexandra." She greets as she lays down the bundle.

[Miraqariftsky]

"Well" Nanami breathes when Shyladric comes and helps. "Appreciated, lady."

Orienting himself towards the mistress of the hearth, the short orcblood taps his hat and says, "You are the lady Abby, unless I misheard? A backful of branches. For your hearth's hospitality. Any other way this humble wanderer can be of service?"

[North_Ranger]

"If there is", a new voice broke in. "the humble wanderer has done his share. He has earned his rest", the speaker - Arash - continued, putting aside his whetstone and sheathing his blade. Wrapping his crimson cloak tighter around himself against the cool of the spring night, the Varisian stepped closer to the fire, its flickering light glinting on the scales of his armor and making his pendant wink against his chest.

"If there is a need for more firewood... show me where and I will go."

[Kalirren]

"Well well, more visitors," remarks the man wearing a pied skirt. "This is unexpected. Welcome. My name's Leeroy." Evidently he's never one to turn down a guest.

"'Welcome,' he says," teases Abby. "You're welcome, y'all are. But I only made meal for four." And her pot wasn't getting any bigger. "Maybe you'd start another fire to cook something else on," she suggests. "This stew'll take a while."


A backful of branches. For your hearth's hospitality. Any other way this humble wanderer can be of service?

Calling Abigail "lady" just makes her crack up. "Pshaw. Goodness, when it rains, it pours. What's next, a whole deer?"


If there is a need for more firewood... show me where and I will go.

"No, we're swimming in it now. We need some food and maybe even some liquor." She just goes back to stirring. "Leeroy, build another fire and get them to take the rest somewhere else. Maybe the guards could use some. Eh, Sasha takes care of them. The merchants, maybe?"

"So what brings you all on this jolly road?" interjects Leeroy. He's taken Shyladric's bundle, and borrows a log to lean them on, because he knows it came from Alexandra.

[Halae]

Tawny

The tiefling grits her teeth. This gathering was quickly become larger than she'd signed up for. It's only a few moment before her mask is back on, a sort of safety for her mind. I doubt Olivia will be pleased.

[North_Ranger]

"I have only trail rations. But you are welcome to them, if there is a way to make a decent meal of them", Arash offered, picking up his backpack and opening it. Dried fruit, jerky, cheese... not the most succulent of dishes, but perhaps the woman Abigail could do something about them.

"My name is Arash. Arash Ignezi", he then introduced himself to Leeroy, nodding to the man briefly. "And you could say I am on a pilgrimage."

[Miraqariftsky]

There. Is. No. Rest. No rest for the weary, no rest for the damned. Yer a coward is what ye are...

There is a faint quiver, a tremble in Nanami's hat as he struggles to beat back the damning voice in his head. However, it is soon enough replaced with puzzlement and contempt.

Hwat? There are TREES over there. A forest, you git! Tch. Bakagtet.

The orcblood's teeth grind as he forces a smile at Abigail and replies as he hands over the bottle of heavy rice liquor strapped to his belt, "True. A stag or a boar would have been good. But. They know well enough to stay away from loudmouthed longshanks. And... here. Careful."

Beneath the shade of his wide hat, he grimaces on seeing Tawny's discomfort. To find one of the helltouched here? Doom, destiny, fate, chance, luck? Look at her. Look at her, damn it. He begins to lift his gaze and reach out a hand but something cold drags him back down.

Before he could indulge the voices in his head, the voices of the ghosts of the past and his own fears and doubts, he slowly raises a hand to his temple and begins rubbing it. So, answer the man. Why ye here, scum? Yer not gunna say yer just a vagabond, walking the world after comin' back ta home after a frivolous journey only ta find out it'd been attacked, sacked an' razed, yer father slain, yer sister an' mother missin'?

He releases a breath slowly and answers Leeroy gruffly, "A job's a job. Pays better than simply bagging some deer or boar..."

He adds then, in a softer voice, staring into the fire, "...Helping folks, well, is good as well. Miss me some company other than the wind, the trees, the rivers, the grass and my spears and blades."

[Yanisa]

"Well well, more visitors," remarks the man wearing a pied skirt. "This is unexpected. Welcome. My name's Leeroy." Evidently he's never one to turn down a guest.
"So what brings you all on this jolly road?" interjects Leeroy. He's taken Shyladric's bundle, and borrows a log to lean them on, because he knows it came from Alexandra.

"At the moment to bring you guys some firewood." She snarled, feeling to tired to act nice. She did realize it might be to harsh and continued "Long term I came to explore the wilderness of the green belt... Although most people think I am here to annoy them." She sighed. "Sorry... shall I bring a message back to Alexandra or?"

[Beowulf DW]

Yorveth helps deliver the wood he's chopped, then elects to stay toward the edge of the fire light, eating some of his rations and taking note of the gathering, half as an excersize of his training and half out of a need to not be totally alone for every night of the journey.

[Great_Cthulhu]

" Most people do", Lithia responds to the boy. " Though my mother's hair was more like a dark brown. And my father's hair is white by now."

She looks up at the massive delivery of firewood, then turns to see the one who asked the question. " The ever-urgent need to bring civilization and law to the lawless is what brings me here."

And the even more urgent need not to step before Pharasma's throne soon...

[Halae]

Tawny

There's something to be said for devilish blood. as one of the hellspawn, Tawny has a distinct sense for body language, inflection, eye movements. The things that aren't communicated directly.

If Nanami is still looking, he'll see something in Tawny, from behind the fiendish , frightening mask. A recognition in her eyes. Perhaps she doesn't know exactly what he's going through, but a thought occurs to her.

"Excuse me," she says, standing up from the table. Still wearing the mask, she looks bointedly towards Zhubin, "Come with me for a moment, please," before walking off into the trees.

This was likely a terrible idea, really, but, then, every idea, even good ones, had some stupidity to them.

[horngeek]

Olivia

The Paladin frowns a little as Tawny puts the mask back on. Hiding behind it wasn't good for her, after all. Then, the Tiefling stands up.

Olivia gently places a hand on Tawny's wrist. "Want me to come with you?"

[Halae]

Tawny

the mask prevents her facial expression from being seen, but Tawny says, "No, it's alright. I can talk to him without worrying."

[Beowulf DW]

Seeing the vacancy left by Tawny, Yorveth sits down next to Olivia, taking a moment to show his holy symbol so that the paladin knows that he is also a servant of the gods.

"Will your friend be all right? It's clear that she's quite troubled. I can keep a discreet eye on her, if you wish."

[hayabusa]

"Gerrick of Skywatch," the mercenary introduces himself. "And I wouldn't worry about those trail rations right now. It's a nice gesture, but unless you need to eat right now, and I mean right now, I'd wait until chow is fully called. I thought I heard something a while ago about organizing a hunting party."

[North_Ranger]

"I'm rather ill-equipped to hunt deer or quail", Arash admitted, looking at his armored frame. "But I will come with you. To keep an eye on anything more hostile. Or for the rare chance we stumble upon a stone-deaf moose."

[Miraqariftsky]

Huh? Well. That was unexpected.

Quietly, Nanami excuses himself from the others. His face almost as obscured by the shadow of his wide hat, especially from folk much taller than him, he strides swiftly to catch up to the longer-legged Tawny.

His long-hafted spike-headed spear waves amid the trees as he walks longstrides after her, its tip gleaming in brief glimpses of moonlight through the forest canopy. He matches her pace once he reaches her, but holds his peace until either she speaks again or they have gone a reasonable way away from the camp.

The orcblooded wilds-walker asks her cautiously, "Lady? What seems to be the matter? Did I... offend?"

[Halae]

Tawny

She takes off her mask; this talk requires a level of intimacy beyond what such a barrier can provide.

"You wanted to look towards me, but didn't. Why?" She's perceptive, to say the least. This isn't a normal way of acting around a devil-touched, "What makes you direct such odd movements towards me?" For the most part, people are brazen with tieflings. There's no reason not to insult them, from their standpoint.

There's no accusation in her voice, however. She's far past the point of caring if someone insults her. All she sounds is... curious.

[horngeek]

Olivia looks at the cleric. "Not as much as people seem to think. She can take care of herself for the most part.

Anyway, I'm Olivia."

[Miraqariftsky]

Zhubin grounds his namesake weapon and leans back against the bole of a nearby tree. He takes off his hat in reciprocation.

Beneath is a face that seems the bastard spawn of a shaggy black goat and a giant catfish, for such are his mane, mustache and goatee ---surprisingly well-kept, despite the wilderness. Probably treated with animal fat, if the scent is any indication.

He forces his gaze up to her eyes--- Gorum's gonads! She's TALL!--- and pauses. He shakes his head, rubs at his temples and releases a tiny quirk of a smile.

Speaking quietly, he says, "You remind me of... my father. He... was... a helltouched, like you. Hence why I do not have the same... bile, for your kind than most. And, hells, it may not be the same, but I've had my share of tongue-lashing and pelting and being run out of town. Simply because I'm an orcblood."

Nanami then continues, still looking her level in the eye, "I... held myself back from looking because... you seemed like you are---Very uncomfortable with strangers. And what wildsman is not a stranger? KOFF. That, and, well, you look good. I have no intent of being... impolite."

[Halae]

Tawny

Tawny smiles slightly, sitting down against another tree, probably to make him feel more comfortable with her height. She really is quite tall for a woman, isn't she? Devilish blood can have that effect.

"You're right, I am uncomfortable with people, but only until they prove themselves to be better than the average animal," Her hair snags on a branch as she's sitting down, and the look on her face is rather dour as she pulls it out. She then retrieves a band from her pocket to tie it up into a ponytail, "I often find range dwellers and vagabonds to be more accepting of me, so you needn't worry yourself."

"That said... your father was a tiefling? Doesn't that make you one as well? And do you know if he heard voices inside his mind?"

[Miraqariftsky]

The smile slowly creeps from one tusked mouth-corner to the other. Beneath his thick brows and squint-eyes, he allows himself to take her in, look upon her properly...

...and apparently had gazed too long to act upon the snagging branch.

"Animal, eh?" Zhubin says as he lets himself slump down to the tree's roots as well, to better resist the temptation of using the now higher vantage point to ogl---

---then he fishes out a hand-wrapped packet of dried meat that looks vaguely like rabbit. "Care for some animal, then?"

He shrugs his corded shoulders at the question of his father. "Damned if I know. Um, sorry. That's what logic'd suggest, yes? Yet here I am. Quarter-orc, actually. Bastard. My mother-by-law... was an elf. Elder sister by a year was an elfblood as well."

The smile turns into a smirk as he says, "Want a laugh? My father'd always said he turned... like that, because he wore his mengu, his war-helm too much, too long."

At the mention of voices, he suddenly sits up, one brow raised incredulously. "Voices, ye say?"

Zhubin shrugs, squinting, frowning for a long time. When it seems he has no answer forthcoming, he says, slowly, "Unless it was my magician mother calling him to bed, or him calling upon the winds as he wove verse while practicing his swordsmanship, no."

Fixing her with a questioning gaze, he asks, "Why do you ask that?"

[Halae]

Tawny

Tawny will take the meat offered. She had no doubt Abby was saving some stew for her, but she prefers the taste of meat to stew, and that means it could go to someone else.

She also reaches behind he waist to take a dagger off her belt; it's a simple silver thing, well made and dearly crafted, and she'll begin peeling small strips of animal off with the knife. Sure, she could use the claws that cap her fingers, and her fingerless gloves suggest that's the point, so she must be drawing the knife to make a point.

"Did you know silver is the bane to devils? Keeping enough silver on your person is said to keep devils at bay, though I find that unlikely. What I have found though... is that when I get whispers, I just hold my knife and they start to go away. Besides, having a silver blade is supposed to be good luck if you meet a vampire or werewolf," she eats quietly after that, likely giving Zhubin a look at her slightly sharpened teeth. She must be quite close to her fiendish nature to have so many physical differences. One has to wonder about how it affects her mentally as well.

[Miraqariftsky]

Long he stares at her, the stray lustful thoughts of a man of his youth forgotten for now. Unspoken thoughts of nigh-forgotten tales of the beastmen and shadowspawn beyond the Carpenter's Wall spring to his mind.

He looks upon her once again, from the lashing rat-like tail to the ram-hooves, to the silver knife, to the claws, to the fangs, to the horns.

Zhubin finally says in response, "HUH. I little understood it then. The name, Daimyo Daisuke Demonsbane. The silvered swords which never left his side--- my mother often said that those blades were more mistress to him than my mama."

He coughs, raises a brow and asks, "Is it... enough? The mere presence of silver? Or would one be better served, and saved, if one knew well how to shove the pointy end into the hellspawned other-guy? And, forgive my asking, are you implying that if I shoved my spear into your gut, you can laugh that off?"

Nodding towards her claws and teeth, he snorts and says as he lifts one fist, encased in a well-oiled spike-knuckled gauntlet. "Would ye believe I've got a bit of envy of ye there? Yours seem a good lot better."

He then frowns and asks again, "Voices, you say? And if I do not overstep... what do they say? Should... I be... relatively relieved... that all I've got are recurring nightmares of my... family's slaughter? Coupled with an overactive two-faced conscience?"

[Halae]

Tawny

Don't forget her long, hairless tail.

"You needn't be concerned about offending me. Yes, the presence of silver is enough to keep the voices at bay, though it's better to touch it directly," she eats some of the rabbit, "And not even a full devil can laugh off a well placed blow. I'm just harder to hurt than most people is all. More endurance, but that's all."

"Claws are useful, certainly. Particularly if you find yourself without a weapon."

At the mention of his family's slaughter, she frowns. It certainly explained why he was a wanderer, "They say many things, rarely coherent. When I do understand them, though, it's usually to subjugate whomever I'm talking to. Either way, I don't want to listen, so I always have my dagger with me."

"But... tell me. What does the word 'Daimyo' mean? It seems like a title rather than a name, the way you said it."

[Miraqariftsky]

Zhubin Nanami

[OOC: My mistake. Failed a Spot check. Amended accordingly. Should have had a good look at that since he'd come up from behind. And following your lead with named headings. Seems sensible.]

"Sooooo thaaaaaaat's whyyyyy..." Zhubin murmurs. His father had been the consummate warrior. Apparently he had fought a neverending battle within himself as well as against the monsters and bandits beyond their old family walls.

He chews on a piece of jerked meat while mulling over Tawny's words.

"Heh. Funny you should say that." He says with but bitter mirth. "Means local warlord or provincial governor. Akin to the 'duke' or 'baron' of these Western lands. More like the latter, because of the humble size of our holdings."

Nanami seems to harden, knuckles unconsciously crackling. He releases a steaming breath into the night air as he says, "I feel like scum fer sayin' this. I was a prodigal prince. Irresponsible. Always haring off on... tch. Adventures."

His goatee quivers as he breathes, "Being young an' stupid an' rompin' in the woods saved me life." He snorts and continues, "Still young. Still walking the wastes an' woods. Just a bit less stupid."

"But of you---" he asks, meeting her gaze again, "---why are you out in this neck of the woods? And what of your family, if I may ask?"

"Koff. Curious..." he says, looking at her clawed hands, while extending his left hand. "...may I feel your, hands?"

[hayabusa]

"I'm rather ill-equipped to hunt deer or quail", Arash admitted, looking at his armored frame. "But I will come with you. To keep an eye on anything more hostile. Or for the rare chance we stumble upon a stone-deaf moose."

"Heh, I'm not exactly suited for hunting myself. All I have is a crossbow, and that's not all that preferable. Plus, I haven't been hunting in the woods for 12 years. We could end up in Taldor if you have me leading you."

[Halae]

Tawny

Tawny considers this for a moment as she chews the last of her rabbit, then simply puts the bone down beside her, wipes the silver blade on the grass, and puts it back in its sheath, "I'm out here because there's more opportunity as an adventuring tiefling than there is in a village or town. Simple as that. The man who adopted me, my father, is traipsing across the planes somewhere. Probably talking to keketars or trying to get in touch with Eziah again."

When he asks for her hand though, she considers this briefly, some hesitation, before putting her left hand in his. She wears a green cloth glove that covers most of her hand, though leaves her fingers open to the air. They're actually rather dainty, all things considered.

[Kalirren]

Sorry... shall I bring a message back to Alexandra or?

"Up to you," responds Leeroy nonchalantly. "She knows I know, and I know she knows. You're welcome to stay, too." You see that Alexandra has joined the guards around their fire, and they've already brought out the fiddle.


And you could say I am on a pilgrimage.

"A pilgrimage?" Abby speaks up. "There are many old shrines to Erastil in this stretch. And not much to anyone else. Although I must say, the sort of person who makes a pilgrimage to the Stolen Lands doesn't usually travel with your type of templar." Abby looks over Arash's armor, then glances over to Yorveth and back. "What would be your destination?"


"The ever-urgent need to bring civilization and law to the lawless is what brings me here."

"Really. You don't say." Leeroy gets a hopeful glint in his eye. "You know, I'm usually not so upfront about this, but you sound like you would be a great fit for Varnhold." He slides smoothly into his pitch for everyone, not just Lithia, to hear. "As I was saying earlier, my lord Maegar Varn is recruiting settlers for his new town. Varnhold is just a mining and fishing town now, but my lord has more permanent ambitions. He wants a place that will help protect the South Rostland Road from the south, from the bandits, the centaurs..."

"Does this interest you?" The question is directed at Lithia, but he looks to Olivia, Gerrick, Yorveth, and Arash as well. "If you joined us now you'd be a well-respected citizen in your old age."

[Miraqariftsky]

Zhubin Nanami

The last few ribs waggle in Nanami's mouth as his face twitches, trying to comprehend what she'd just said. "Simplicity and opportunity, I get that and I like that. But... keketars? Eziah? Huh?"

"So, besides apparently not munching all day on grass---" Zhubin begins, the well-intended jest plain from his jutting smirk. "---what's it ye do?" The halforc huntsman's hand, hardened and calloused thing that it is, closes on the tiefling's with surprising softness. He closes his eyes as he lets his fingers play across her talons. "An otherwise soft, delicate hand. Soft-spoken, keen-eyed yet bespectacled. Unarmoured, scholarly attire, bearing but a small blade. Small mass on your muscles, but remarkably well-toned. Fiendish flesh, magick in the blood. Mystic mask? I am a hunter, plain as can be seen... but you, I am certain, are some manner of mage, yes?"

His ears suddenly twitch and he cokks his head to one side like a dog as he listens to the wind. Zhubin unconsciously squeezes her hand, which he immediately loosens up on. "Sorry. Humh? Hear that? Your skirt-chasing host earlier. Says something about recruiting settlers--- and apparently fighters--- for his Lord Varn and his holdings hereabouts."

[North_Ranger]

"A pilgrimage?" Abby speaks up. "There are many old shrines to Erastil in this stretch. And not much to anyone else. Although I must say, the sort of person who makes a pilgrimage to the Stolen Lands doesn't usually travel with your type of templar." Abby looks over Arash's armor, then glances over to Yorveth and back. "What would be your destination?"

"That may be because I do not serve Old Deadeye", the armored Varisian answered with a wry smile, his hand coming up to feel the pendant around his neck. "My lord is Ragathiel, scourge of the wicked and slayer of evil. And He will tell me when I have completed my journey. Until then, I travel with a naked blade and a readied shield."


"Really. You don't say." Leeroy gets a hopeful glint in his eye. "You know, I'm usually not so upfront about this, but you sound like you would be a great fit for Varnhold." He slides smoothly into his pitch for everyone, not just Lithia, to hear. "As I was saying earlier, my lord Maegar Varn is recruiting settlers for his new town. Varnhold is just a mining and fishing town now, but my lord has more permanent ambitions. He wants a place that will help protect the South Rostland Road from the south, from the bandits, the centaurs..."

"Does this interest you?" The question is directed at Lithia, but he looks to Olivia, Gerrick, Yorveth, and Arash as well. "If you joined us now you'd be a well-respected citizen in your old age."

"Perhaps some day, master Yorveth. But my agreement with the Swordlords concerns the Greenbelt. I cannot go back on my word. But I thank you for your offer. Perhaps, once the charter has been fulfilled, I will come and seek you in Varnhold."

[Yanisa]

Shyladric


"Up to you," responds Leeroy nonchalantly. "She knows I know, and I know she knows. You're welcome to stay, too." You see that Alexandra has joined the guards around their fire, and they've already brought out the fiddle.

She shrugs. "Might as well stay then... I'm not in the best of mood but maybe some fire and food might help with that."
Realizing Shyladric finally settled down Ilves quickly claims a spot near her and curls up.
Shyladrics looks at the tiefling leaving and remarks to herself that she mentioned a tiefling early today... Life is odd like that. She glances over the people still sitting around wondering with who she was sharing a campfire.


"Really. You don't say." Leeroy gets a hopeful glint in his eye. "You know, I'm usually not so upfront about this, but you sound like you would be a great fit for Varnhold." He slides smoothly into his pitch for everyone, not just Lithia, to hear. "As I was saying earlier, my lord Maegar Varn is recruiting settlers for his new town. Varnhold is just a mining and fishing town now, but my lord has more permanent ambitions. He wants a place that will help protect the South Rostland Road from the south, from the bandits, the centaurs..."

"Does this interest you?" The question is directed at Lithia, but he looks to Olivia, Gerrick, Yorveth, and Arash as well. "If you joined us now you'd be a well-respected citizen in your old age."

Although not addressed, Shyladric responds anyway without qualms. "Bandits eh? I heard the greenbelt had a fair share of bandits. If there are any place around there that needs help I could help. Defeating bandits is in my planning." The word respect allured her, feeling that respect was one of the things she lacked with preaching... People might listen more if she was well respected.

[Halae]

Tawny

"I do pain magic, mostly. Brings out my fiendish nature and lets me throw it at people, you know? I'm working on ways to curse people at the moment," she'll take her hand back after a moment, "as for Varnhold, we're going close to there, but not quite. The Swordlords of Restov are recruiting surveyors. keeps me away from most people, and pays well."

"And... Keketars are beings of chaos that you've likely never heard of before. Eziah is a wizard that lives in the sun."

[Beowulf DW]

Olivia looks at the cleric. "Not as much as people seem to think. She can take care of herself for the most part.

Anyway, I'm Olivia."
Yorveth extends his hand in greeting,
Yorveth. I'm an inquisitor of Erastil. I hope to cull some bandits and maybe reclaim a shrine or two for my faith. How about you and your friend? If it's not too bold to ask?

[Miraqariftsky]

Zhubin Nanami

The orcblooded woodsman sits back, left thumb still crooked as if still over her palm. "And if you do not mind my asking, before you came to Restov, how were you selling your curses? Huhm... By any chance, can you do a Harrowing as well?"

"Uh... damned straight." he mutters, dumbfounded. "He... lives... in the sun?"

[Halae]

Tawny

"Nope, no harrowing. I've been living off work as a sage for some time now," she smiles, "As for Eziah... yes, he lives in the sun. Doesn't like people too much, so he chose to live there to get away from Golarion. Built a library there and everything."

[Miraqariftsky]

Zhubin Nanami

The halforc shakes his head and scratches a wolfish ear. "Pity. Would have wanted to ask some divination if, by some miracle, my mother and sister are still alive somewhere." He shrugs sadly and sighs, "Divinations. A bit like dropping coins in a well, eh?"

"A sage?" Zhubin smiles across at her. "You mean, you teach? I suppose there are some days that you do scribing and scrivening as well as teaching?"

Once more, he stares at Tawny blankly, one corner of his mouth curled back in incomprehension. "A per... well, an... This... Eziah. He is a man? Not a god? And if he still is a man, this library, it is all his? And not shared?"

[Halae]

Tawny

"Not as much, but yes," She smiles, "I teach mainly about the planes. there's still some things I don't know, but I can give a basic overview of things. I also know a fair deal of magical theory, the basis of wizardry. Eziah though... he likes bigger things, such as researching the Dark Tapestry. He's no god, just a wizard that's managed to accrue a lot of power. My father could probably match him, but doesn't want to."

[Miraqariftsky]

Zhubin Nanami

Thinking, Nanami strokes his goatee and says, "All due respect, but, if you know so much, why aren't you teaching at one of the realm's major universities? Like the Academae at Korvosa or the Grand Temple of Nethys at Osirion? Surely places like those are above petty bigotry and prejudice?"

"The... Dark Tapestry?" He mutters, then gestures hand over hand. "That's not something that can be burned or unraveled easily, can it? Let me guess. Sarenrae is on a different and higher... plane... than that... Eziah, definitely?"

[horngeek]

Yorveth extends his hand in greeting,
Yorveth. I'm an inquisitor of Erastil. I hope to cull some bandits and maybe reclaim a shrine or two for my faith. How about you and your friend? If it's not too bold to ask?

Olivia smiles. "We're hoping to try and make the Stolen Lands a little safer for people to live in, maybe find a place where Tawny isn't looked down upon for the circumstances of her birth."

[Halae]

Tawny

"I'm sure they would be," Tawny says simply, "But While I know some things, I'm far from an expert. Besides, pain magic tends to be looked won on as petty shamanism. I don't care for focused study, even if I could manage it."

"And no, the Dark Tapestry is a place, not an object. I don't know any details about it though, only having heard the name. Eziah exists in our physical sun, but I'm fairly certain Sarenrae exists in the metaphysical outer ideal of it rather than in the physical one."

[Great_Cthulhu]

" I have to agree with him", Lithia says, nodding towards the Varisian. " A contract must be upheld, for without trust in contracts, civilization would crumble and fall and we cannot allow that. What good could a settlement be if it was settled with contract-breakers?"

Hmmm...if I keep this up, I'll really start to sound like father...without the religious rhetoric, of course...

[Kalirren]

Defeating bandits is in my planning.

"Planning on defeating bandits?" Leeroy's eyebrows express what surprise he doesn't let slip through his tongue. "That's a rare sentiment indeed. Did the Swordlords in Restov give you a letter of marque and reprisal, or something?"

Arash, Lithia:

"A charter?" ask Leeroy, a bit befuddled. It appears as if he feels entitled to know about any such thing, especially one that two travelers of seemingly disparate origin both know about. His gaze switches between the Varisian and the Chelaxian. "What this about a charter, a contract? Abby have you heard anything about this?"

Abby shakes her head.

[Beowulf DW]

Olivia smiles. "We're hoping to try and make the Stolen Lands a little safer for people to live in, maybe find a place where Tawny isn't looked down upon for the circumstances of her birth."

Yorveth

"There are few enough places like in this world. I'll pray for your success."

[Miraqariftsky]

Zhubin Nanami

Zhubin simply shrugs and nods back at Tawny, flares his nose and suppresses a shiver. Despite his early years, there were many things of the mystic matters that he found unnerving.

What of her mother, though? She'd not spoken of her. Prod? No. No, not if she apparently does not want to speak of her.

One hand still strokes his goatee as he says, "Hmm. If you don't mind my asking, how did you first--- what is the term, ah--- manifest your... powers of pain?"

[Halae]

Tawny

The tiefling makes a sharp toothed grin. Everybody always asks that, don't they? The answer is very simple and likely to make Zhubin squirm.

"Sadomasochism."

Ooh, that delightful squirming.

[Miraqariftsky]

Zhubin Nanami

HAH. Can I believe that? Well, yes, but, hrmm. Sometimes, a hellgirl's a hellgirl? Where's the catch? And where's the line in the sand? IS there sand and is there a line?

Unexpectedly--- even to him--- something in his orcish blood stirs. He grins back at Tawny, rocking forward, leaning his hard, wiry arms ape-like on hands and knuckles.

Hey, HEY. What in blazes is wrawng witchu? Down, boy, DOWN. What, what, WHAT? You can tell she wants--- You fool, you beast. Is that how your father raised you?

Damn me. We'll see.

Though clear behind his eyes and the set of his neck that there is some heated hesitation, his voice is steady as he ripostes to her teasing with his own.

"Issat so? Yet geddoff on givin' an' gettin' pain?"

[Halae]

Tawny

"That's right. I doubt I would if I was pure human, but as I am now... it just feels good, I suppose. Don't get me wrong, I wont go around cutting people up for my jollies, but if the other individual likes it too... well, there it is," She smiles, "That's a little something else that claws are useful for."

she doesn't comment on the hesitation. If he wishes to speak about it, he can, but she keeps her thoughts to herself.

[Miraqariftsky]

Zhubin Nanami

The orcblooded woodsman stalks across the short, grassy space between the two trees towards the tiefling sage, shuffling forward on his knuckles, knees and booted toes. All the short while, his dark eyes now roam her body freely, a low growl in his throat, a feral grin on his face.

Almost nose to nose now, he grates out, "Rilleh now? Care ta... subjuhgaet... thisss... beast? Hrrrrrgggmmm?"

[Halae]

Tawny

The tiefling, for her part, simply smiles, pulls her legs in, and places a hand over Zhubin's mouth, "Sorry love, maybe if we get to know each other better. Right now, you're just the orc-blooded woodsman I met on my way to a job, handsome though you may be."

Handsome to her senses, anyways. There was just something about a man with facial hair...

[Miraqariftsky]

Zhubin Nanami

Yes, yes, YES. Take THAT, fool beast! I told ye s---
---hey. Hey, what's with that smug grin?
She said you're handsome?
Rats' arse! Huh? HUH. huh. What's. Well. Wha'ssa world coming to?
Pfft. Coming to.
Shut yer trap, you.
Hah. Trap.
Gah!

Zhubin suddenly shakes himself like a dog at her touch, eyes wide and sits himself back down, hard. He shakes his head again, slower, his growling turning into a long, low laugh.

He takes her hand from his mouth, turns it over, then instead of over the knuckles, brings it lower and kisses the claws. "Hah-hahaha. Thanks for... waking me up."

[Halae]

Tawny

Zhubin might get the sense that she was faking a smile for the sake of empathy before, but now as an honest one emerges, her face lights up, and by some alchemy she's beautiful rather than the simple attractiveness she had before.

"Anytime. For what it's worth though, if we get to know each other better, I might be willing, but this is neither the time nor place for it."

[Great_Cthulhu]

" This charter", Lithia takes out the piece of parchment and shows it to Leeroy. " We're meant to explore the Greenbelt and bring any banditry there to an end."

[Miraqariftsky]

Zhubin Nanami

Zhubin smiles back at her, the admiration never leaving his gaze, the bout of rage-lust quelled, for now. He chuckles and says, "Neither time nor place. Indeed."

One side of his face contorts in a lopsided grin. "Ha-haha-heh. For what it's worth, thanks for not---" Here he pauses, crooks his fingers and jerks them across his neck, as if ripping a throat open. His throat.

Could have been, could have been, ye stupid git... ...You mean, thanks for leaving the window open? No, I mean, thanks for not killing me right there. What? She COULD have. Have you been listening to her? No, I've been surviving. Ye'd be a liar if ye said ye'd neither looked at nor listened to her. Conscience, ye call yerself? Hypocrite.

[Halae]

Tawny

That honest smile doesn't leave her face, "Just because I have claws, I'm not about to gut people. Come on, we've been away from camp long enough," She'll stand then, and reach out a hand to help Zhubin up as well.

[North_Ranger]

" This charter", Lithia takes out the piece of parchment and shows it to Leeroy. " We're meant to explore the Greenbelt and bring any banditry there to an end."

"By any means necessary", Arash added with a gentle caress of his bastard sword's hilt as he nodded in corroboration to Lithia's words. "Personally, I relish the chance to see some action. A guard's life can grow too quiet. Too complacent."

[Miraqariftsky]

Zhubin Nanami

Still smirking, he says as he accepts her offer of a hand as he stands, "Just saying. You could have rebuffed my vulgarity in a far more brutal manner. For which I am thankful."

Retrieving his spear, he says while turned, "You are right. Hopefully, your friends are not too worried."

Turning back, he cranes his neck upward at her again and mutters, "Taaaaall." Shaking his head, he slaps his wide hat back on and coughs. "Decorum's sake for our, ahem, height differences."

[Halae]

Tawny

Zhubin will get one last look at the smile before Tawny has her mask on again, "I'm not tall. you're just short."

Keep telling yourself that, girl :smalltongue:

Then, it's time to start the walk back to camp.

[Miraqariftsky]

Zhubin Nanami

"Two sides of the same coin, lady titan." says the voice from beneath the wide span of the conical woven hat.

He gestures with his spearbutt towards the camp and says as he falls in behind her, "Ladies first. And--- sign of good faith that no ravenous monster boiled out of the woods to devour their dear friend."

[Yanisa]

Shyladric


"Planning on defeating bandits?" Leeroy's eyebrows express what surprise he doesn't let slip through his tongue. "That's a rare sentiment indeed. Did the Swordlords in Restov give you a letter of marque and reprisal, or something?"

Arash, Lithia:

"A charter?" ask Leeroy, a bit befuddled. It appears as if he feels entitled to know about any such thing, especially one that two travelers of seemingly disparate origin both know about. His gaze switches between the Varisian and the Chelaxian. "What this about a charter, a contract? Abby have you heard anything about this?"

Abby shakes her head.

" This charter", Lithia takes out the piece of parchment and shows it to Leeroy. " We're meant to explore the Greenbelt and bring any banditry there to an end."

"By any means necessary", Arash added with a gentle caress of his bastard sword's hilt as he nodded in corroboration to Lithia's words. "Personally, I relish the chance to see some action. A guard's life can grow too quiet. Too complacent."

Shyladric curiously glances over the piece of parchment and remarks: "Interesting... I believe I got a same one or one that is really similar. 'Explore the Wilderness known as the Greenbelt.' and 'Punishment for Banditry is execution by sword or rope'. I was mainly interested in exploring but lawbreakers must be punished. I do hope claws and bites count as a sword." She pets Ilves, who responds with loud snoring. "Still I'm for the whole see the wilderness... I was getting pretty tired of the city scene, nevertheless like I said stopping bandits was in my planning. It seems I do have some companion... I didn't caught your names." She looks at Lithia and Arash. "Mine's Shyladric of the Green Faith."

[Kalirren]

Abby takes Lithia's copy of the charter and hands it to an unbelieving Leeroy.



BE IT KNOWN that the SWORDLORDS of RESTOV, acting upon the greater good and authority vested within them by the office of the REGENT of the Dragonscale Throne,

have charged the Bearer of this Charter with the Duty to explore the Wilderness known as
the Greenbelt, being that Region no further than thirty-six miles east and west and sixty miles south of Fort Buhoslav;
have granted to the Bearer the Right to travel therewithin;
do enjoin upon the Bearer to strive against Banditry and other unlawful Behavior to be encountered.
The Punishment for unrepentant Banditry remains, as always, Execution by sword or rope.

SO WITNESSED on this 24th day of Calistril, under watchful eye of the Lordship of Restov and authority granted by Noleski, Lord SURTOV, REGENT.

Those of you sitting closest to him will see him mumble, Surtov, Shmurtov... in no uncertain displeasure as he checks the seal first, then reads its full contents. "Thirty-six miles east and west...Thiry-six miles, that's not the line..." he thinks aloud. "...so that's just about a day's ride out of Buhoslav, and from there it's only a day southeast to Varnhold...

"How many of you have one of these?" he asks, finally. "At least three, just here. Four? Abadar be praised," in disgust. Seeing the writing on the wall, "All right, Regent Noleski issued this charter. If he's surveying it he wants to annex it, but doesn't know what's there, or what it even looks like..." Leeroy resolutely rolls up Lithia's charter and hands it respectfully back to her.

"I have a proposition for you all," he says, still focusing on Lithia. "I'd like to hire at least one or two of you to come with me to Varnhold, and explore west out of Varnhold Pass into the Greenbelt. The goal would be to find a workable natural boundary between Lord Varn's holdings, and whatever this future Stolen-Lands barony is going to be. Honestly, it will probably be the Shrike River, but no surveyor who has followed it down its course has returned, so I can't say for sure. I can promise you any provisions you need once we reach Varnhold. My lord will write you a letter that extends the Regent's privilege. And you'll have the benefit of a local patron."

[[This is the point at which I play my GM card and make the player selection. Thank you for your participation.]]

Over the next half an hour, silver-tongued Leeroy successfully manages to convince Gerrick and Lithia that he's trying to avoid a baronial war, which he is. He almost wins over Shyladric too, but then starts creeping on her, which sends her and Ilves walking away from the fire in a huff. Apparently ditzy girls are his real type. Who knew? The ungallantry drives Tawny and Olivia away, and with them, instinctively go Yorveth and Zhubin.

Arash is the last to voice his opinion. He can't bring himself to trust the promises of an agent of a Swordlord over the charter in his hand, signed and sealed by a Regent, perhaps to be King.

In the end, dinner for four was prepared, and dinner for four is served, while the guards are dancing to fiddle music.