Cyclopean's Kingmaker IC

[Cyclopean]

After a long journey from the city of Restov, you are at least nearing your destination. If your reckoning is correct, you'll arrive at Oleg's trading post in the early evening. After that last bastion of civilization, there will be nothing between you and the wilds of the Stolen Lands.

Until then, you have a few more hours to converse with your companions and fellow charter-bearers.

[darklink_shadow]

Kirik, son of Chief Lentils of the Sun Clan, son of Jasmine of the Hawk Clan, shaman of the Sun Clan, emissary to the Hawk Clan, Apprentice Diplomat of the Spire Clan, Honor Brother of Sharp-Eye, the Bright walked beside other whose names were less impressive. He wore a loose sleeveless leather vest emblazed with a sun over the heart, and a jagged slash accompanied by a trio of claws. The sun marked his heritage, and the claws his bond to his saurian companion. His spear arm, the right one as with most hunters, had a motif of a hunting pack of Harris Hawks, showing his loyalty to his Mother's clan, but the back of his spear hand had a grand and detailed tattoo of a stylized sun showing that the first and last thought of every spear thrust was of his Father's and his home clan. Just under his left eye was a small spired rock, which would be tattooed over as he progressed through his training as a ambassador.

As he walked, he hummed a bar of a song his brother had sung earlier in the day. He couldn't quite remember how the next part went, but he enjoyed the sound of the wind around him, and he added to the whirl with a song. The wind died down, and Kirk stopped making the noise. The wind no longer fights our progress, blowing our scent behind us. He said to no one in particular. But also it no longer warns us of what we walk towards. But then again we walk to the stink of those who squat in lands that never get a chance to breathe. Perhaps it is more of a boon after all.

It's Kirik, not Kirk. I was typing on a device with autocorrect. Sorry.

[LordHavelock]

Konrad rode, tall and strong in the saddle on the far side of the road from the Shoanti shaman and especially his reptilian beast. The man looked more than just half-savage, with his tattoos, his spear, and the barbaric sigils which characterized all three; enough to thoroughly convince the young Chelaxian armiger that the blood which ran in his veins was no doubt as cold as the oversized lizard he traveled with. That the likes of him were now part and parcel of the company he must keep was an indignity, but one which did not press terribly on his mind, not compared to the relish he felt for the challenges that lay ahead. His parents, and their ilk, would no doubt have been mortified to keep such company, but it was no small point of pride for the last scion of house Rothmann, how much he was unlike his parents, and how far behind he had left them. Not merely in miles traveled, but in deeds accomplished, and this chance to rid the Greenbelt of it's marauders and outlaws was truly only the beginning of his next step to reforging the house of Rothmann.

Konrad was not about to let himself get caught up in such lofty goal however. Riding was hot and tiring work, the road they traveled being little more than a dusty track, but he bore the discomforts in stride with his steed, Harbinger. The great destrier seemed to canter on with a haughty dismissal of the dust and the burden of rider and gear, and in doing so contrived somehow to remain remarkably clean, his blue-gray coat and jet-black mane & tail shone strikingly in the sun. Konrad endeavored to remain every bit as aloof from the travails of their long journey, riding in full armor, save his helm, and a lighter gray tunic and breeches which helped keep the sun and heat at bay. The shift in the wind was not lost on him, as he took in a deep breath and ran a hand through his short-cut black hair tousling it back away from his sharp, aquiline features before brushing some imagined dust from the dull, brushed gray steel of his cuirass.

Kirk's words drew his attention a moment later, and Konrad looked across the road narrowing his eyes as he spoke of winds and portents. "The wind is no more a detriment to our progress than those 'squatters' are due to be." He remarks, "But if your so keen to trust your nose, I have to wonder what you'd think of my old home." A private joke, as Konrad doubts the Shoanti could ever really imagine the combination of Westcrown's peculiar combination of decaying grandeur and stagnation.

[darklink_shadow]

Kirik looked at the horse rider and laughed, merrily as if some grand joke had been told. After a moment, he looked back again. Our progress? No. You have your progress, and I have mine. They are not the same, rider. And my words are not for your benefit. The death of the wind means hunting us is more difficult, but also that hunting will be more difficult for us. It's not a problem. It's just a fact.

Stopping his movement, he let some others pass ahead of him. His scaled companion kept moving, keeping with Kirik's brother, but one eye stayed with the shaman, more ready for violence than any human could ever be. Kirik, however wasn't ready for violence. In such a crowd it was not likely to happen. The man touched the horse, then smelled his hand. Your old home... it must have really stunk for you to come out here. Or maybe your horse talked sense into you. Other than a little rational fear, your horse only smells like sweat and dirt. You haven't been home in a while, have you?

Kirik chuckled and patted the horse again. Pretty beast you have. If you die, I'll take good care of him. Proud. Noble. I like this horse. Take better care of him than you did our lands, Chelaxian. Both are too good for you. With a look a great distaste, Kirik moved away from the man, back to his scaled and feathered friend.

[JonRG]

Varon laughed from atop his own horse. His clothing and armor were an ecclectic mix of Chelaxian and Shoanti style, though his tattoos were still visible. "Now, now," he chided in his native tongue. "We're to be traveling with these outlanders for some time. It's best to make friends rather than enemies." Varon continued in Common, "Sorry. As a steward of the wilds, my brother takes the construction of your cities rather personally."

[teddsutcliffe]

Perry chose not to engage in conversation, mostly because he was a little short of breath. He was glad of it, though, because having to keep up with a human on foot was better than having to ride behind one of them on a horse. Choosing which human with whom to entrust his entire person was not something he was looking forward to. It would be hard to decide who he trusted less. Probably the Chelaxian. But, on the other hand, the devil you know... Hell, he probably thought Perry was at least worth something, and hopefully that would be enough to make the halfling worth protecting. It didn't help that one of the Shoanti had with him a creature the likes of which Perry had never seen before. It was larger than he was, although most things were.

Mostly, he just hoped the humans wouldn't pay him too much attention unless he approached them. His scale mail armor was uncomfortably new and shiny, and Perry hoped most of the shininess was mitigated by the light tan scarf he wore over his neck and shoulders. What irked him more was the loud noise it made as he walked. Definitely a priority to swap it out for literally anything else at the first possible opportunity. Perry had been of half a mind to dye his hair to make it stand out less, but a hat was cheaper, and probably what little red hair poked out wouldn't be enough to remember him by. Although, it was probably in vain anyway, considering his companions and the attention they were sure to draw.

[darklink_shadow]

Kirik chuckled good-naturedly, and patted his brother's horse's flank. Of course, brother, of course.

Not wishing to actually try to make friends for now, he walked over to his saurian companion. After smoothing a few ruffled feathers, he sighed contently. I can tell you're eager. Go ahead. Catch up to us within an hour though. We should be at the squatter's palaces by then.

With a thrill, the dinosaur ran away from the pack of humans to hunt.

Sharp eye will hunt for himself, Kirik, and Varon. Using scent to hunt: [roll0] survival.

[LordHavelock]

Konrad listens to the Shoanti's remarks with growing ire, as they move on down the road, and settles his hand pointedly on the hilt of his sword when the presumptuous vagrant sees fit to touch his horse without a second thought for permission or courtesy. In response Harbinger gives a dismissive snort, and Konrad suspects if not for the wind-listener's compliments, Harbinger might have gone so far as to bite him. "You presume too much, little man." He growls out through gritted teeth. "I didn't come to listen to some chanting savage tell me what to do with what I have won by the sweat of my brow. I left the corrupting 'comforts' as the weak were won't to refer to them, because they took no responsibility for the care of their lands, no part in the winning of them. All that I have, I owe to might own strength and mettle, and it is by those same which I will win land and titles and see to them properly, not by your estimation."

The intervention of Kirik's brother however forestalls any further conflict, as Konrad regards him and then the whisperings of the Shoanti to his feather'd beastie, who begins to prance ahead with long strides. "As a steward of the wilds, I should think it would behoove him not to so readily offend those who would do the wilds no ill." He remarks, as much at Varon, as Kirik, "The wilderness has it's place, and I would no sooner seen it gobbled up by the decadence of great cities whose only path seems towards stagnation. The wilds tend to themselves, ensure the survival of the strong and worthy, a principle all with wisdom can respect."

[darklink_shadow]

Kirik hums a few bars of a song again, amused by the events of the last few moment. You know, rider, you are the first to tell me I am little. I think your view from your horse must be off. It seems to have helped your world view. Perhaps that is why the Sun Quah prefer horses so well. They can see the world better, at the cost of seeing people worse. Oh, the next part goes like.. He returned to humming.

[LordHavelock]

Kirik hums a few bars of a song again, amused by the events of the last few moment. You know, rider, you are the first to tell me I am little. I think your view from your horse must be off. It seems to have helped your world view. Perhaps that is why the Sun Quah prefer horses so well. They can see the world better, at the cost of seeing people worse. Oh, the next part goes like.. He returned to humming.

Konrad offers a non-committal *hrrrmmph* in response to Kirik's words. The shoanti's overwhelming physique aside, the young armitage used the term 'little' in reference purely to their relative standing, as a humble tribesman, and noble scion, and was not surprised, nor pleased to find the jibe lost on him. Content to carry on letting the oaf hum a while longer, he encouraged Harbinger to speed his pace, the sooner they might arrive at the trading post, and begin their task in full.

[Cyclopean]

After a few more hours of uncomfortable quiet, the walls of Oleg's trading post finally comes into view. The gate is wide open in anticipation of your arrival. As you near the entrance, you catch the hearty smells of stew and fresh bread. A short, smiling woman comes into view. "Come on in!" she calls. "I just finished making dinner. Why don't you go ahead and take a seat," she says, gesturing to the table and benches in the middle of the courtyard, "and I'll take care of your horses." She then cranes her neck up to the thatched roof of one of the four or so buildings inside the trading post. A man sits on the roof, apparently making repairs. "Come on down, Oleg," she cries, "they're here!"

[darklink_shadow]

Kirik pauses, and looks behind him, wondering to where his friend has wandered off. SHARPEYE! WHERE ARE YOU?! WE'RE GOING IN N... I SEE YOU, HURRY IT UP!

Breaking treeline, or coming over a hill, or appearing over the horizon, depending on the geography Sharpeye is running at full tilt, the spoils of hunting in her maw and/or pressed against her chest by her tiny, little adorably clawed hands. Expecting some fright from the cityfolks, Kirik raises a hand. Don't worry, Sharpeye is better trained than any animal you could hope to know She won't go ripping up your or your livestock. In a matter of moments the saurian beast arrived. Ah, watch do you have there, my beautiful little killer? Kirik asked, appraising the animal(s) with which she returned.

Sorry about the vaugeness, I don't know how much meat *multiple hours* of hunting with a 15 result yields. Or the geography of the area.

[LordHavelock]

Konrad nods magnanimously in response to the woman's greeting, and her offer of food and bedding for the night, but does not himself speak until he has already ridden in and made something of a show, dismounting steadily despite the weight of his armor and weapons. Removing his riding gloves and swordbelt, he slings them in a bundle over his shoulder before patting down Harbinger, "Your hospitality is a welcome comfort after the road." speaks the Chelish knight, his accent thick enough to mark him from Westcrown, especially to those familiar with the Chelaxian Peninsula, and while his tone conveys the proper courtesy of a guest, nothing can be done to hide the haughty gaze with which he regards the rather pedestrian 'outpost'. Scornful himself of too much in the way of luxuries and extravagance, he is not so much dismissive of his evaluation of the outpost, as realistic in that it was built by and meant for the accommodation of the peasantry, but the signs of repair where Oleg has no doubt been putting his own skills and mettle to work in improving not only his home, but his homestead garners more respect from the young armitage than he might initially show. 'There is strength required to endure the constant toil of honest work, subtle, continual, and necessary.' His previous mentor had taught him, 'Many of high birth, focus on strength of the arm the better to wield the sword, scepter, or the lash, and too readily dismiss the strength required to till and plow which comes from a strong center, foundation, and back. You will know who is stronger not from a single strike or blow, but from who remains after ten, a hundred, or a thousand repeated trials.'

Oleg and his wife clearly had much strength to be making a livelihood for themselves out here, and Konrad could respect that, but it was none-the-more comprehensible to him how anyone could prefer such a life to the exhilaration of triumph at arms.

Upon Sharpeye's return, he finds himself about to make some cutting remark about not allowing the beast to have it's run of the outpost, especially with the other horses and any livestock, but the bloody bundle of fur and flesh in it's arms and maw gives him pause, as it strides with an admirable grace and strength back to it's master. 'She . . .' He thinks to himself as Kirik very nearly fawns over the exotic creature, and in that moment Konrad realizes it is not so exotic after all. Had he not himself pursued falconry with merlin and hawk for sport, and in Sharpeye he could recognize many of the same qualities of the regal hunters of the skies. Though he had ultimately found falconry to be a lazy form of hunting, there was a certain romance and aesthetic appeal to it, and Kirik seemed to share much of the same bond and regard. Harbinger was his steed, his companion, and would carry him into battle and fight by his side; Sharpeye, now to Konrad's mind, seemed to blend the traits of horse and hawk, both hunter and companion . . . 'A worthy combination'.

[Cyclopean]

The woman takes your horses to the stables, and Oleg clambers down from the roof. He greets you with little more than a grunt. The woman is more polite when she returns and brings out the food, introducing herself as his wife, Svetlana Leveton.

The food proves to taste just as delicious as it smells. A few minutes into the meal, Svetlana mentions how grateful she and her husband are that someone has finally been sent to deal with the bandits that have been plaguing them.

[darklink_shadow]

Kirik takes the rabbit from Sharp-Eye. Good girl. Who's a good girl? Got me a rabbit, huh? Next time, how about something a little bigger, though, huh girl? Maybe a deer? Nah, I'm just teasing you. Moving to eat the food, Kirik tucked the rabbit away. He could skin it, gut it, and salt it later. For now, other people were giving him food, and he wasn't dumb enough or rude enough to turn down a free meal.

With a nod towards the woman, he spoke only one word. Thanks. It was all that was needed in these squatter cultures. In truth, he wasn't exactly excited to be protecting the squatters, but bandits were worse than squatters, and gold was gold. Plus, he had plans for this land they would scout out. Plans the swordlords wouldn't be happy about, but Kirik wasn't exactly happy with the swordlords either.

[JonRG]

"Forgive me, madam, but we've not been sent to combat any bandits in particular. However, our task is to bring order to the region, and your bandits certainly seem an obstacle to that goal. Can you tell us more about them?" Varon flashes his most winning smile at the woman, though it may look a little menacing.

[Cyclopean]

At this, Oleg throws his hands up in the air and curses. "Gods pound it! We've been sending for help to the Swordlords for months now, and they say they're sending guards soon. Oh, but for now all we get is a handful of--"

"Please, dear," Svetlana interjects before her husband can finish insulting you.

"Forgive us," she continues, turning back to her guests. "We're both just so worried--they'll be here tomorrow morning. Will you really help us? We'd be happy to give you free room and board for the night, if only you'll help deal with them in the morning."

Oleg, covered in sweat, mutters unhappily but does not countermand the offer.

[darklink_shadow]

Kirik stood up from the meal. Wait, after feeding us, you tell us it'll be free only if we risk our lives for you? Kirik made a sound of sharp annoyance to which Sharp-Eye reacted by standing up straighter, and letting out a guttural hiss.

That isn't quite right. I think you meant, "Here is a meal, free of charge, and, if you feel kindly towards us for being subservient to you, protect us, the mewling sheep that we are, from our problems because we are too weak to do so." To which we would than reply, "Of course, we'd be happy to help you. We're here to make the land safe, and ending these bandits will be a step towards that goal." But your current wording is blackmail. And since blackmail and banditry are basically the same thing, and ending those things will bring us closer to our goal, we'd feel more inclined to end the bandit threat, after they've dealt with out blackmailers. So, which did you mean?I'm sure my grasp on your language is so weak, I must have misunderstood.

[LordHavelock]

Konrad busies himself at the well, taking a long pull of the fresh, cool water and splashing it on his face and hands before he takes his place at the outdoor table for dinner. The cool shade provided by the walls and the warmth of the cooking fire are a small comfort, but a welcome one, and as he tucks into his stew, he reflects how preferable it is to be able to be content with a hearty meal, rather than the overindulgence of some feast or gala. Kirk's indignant reaction very nearly causes him to choke on his food however, as he sets his bowl and spoon aside to regard the shoanti during his tyrade, narrowing his eyes with increasing scorn. Standing up, he takes a step between Kirik and their hosts glares pointedly at Kirk, whilst addressing Varon. "Your brother, appears to have all the manners of a goat." He says aloud, his tone one of forceful derision "Perhaps he would be better suited taking his meals with the other beasts."

Without a second glance, he turns his back on Kirik to regard the Levetons, and resumes his seat at the table. "I won't ask you to excuse our savage companion, but he clearly lacks a grasp of duplicity, to credit such simple folk as you and your husband with extortion. This is not the court at New Stetven, let alone the palace halls of Westcrown, my home," he lets the name drop in confirmation of his Chelish heritage, and imply all the more to his rank and dealings in such matter. "It is simply a trade, yes? Of favor, if not goods. You lack the strength to deal with these bandits, and would be beholden to those willing and able to dispatch them for you. An agreeable arrangement to my mind." Hardly cordial, Konrad remains none-the-less courteous as he speaks, but it is impossible to fully rectify his attempts to smooth over the situation with the haughty attitude he takes towards the two homesteaders and their inability to fend for themselves.

"Besides," he turns to regard Kirki once more, remaining seated at the table with Oleg and his wife, "It's not as though we all have to risk our lives. Anyone whose afraid of a few bandits can remain apart from the fighting. With yourselves of course."

[darklink_shadow]

A goat is a noble creature. Something you couldn't hope to understand, little man. Your courage is surprising, coming from a Chelaxian. I thought you were only brave when attacking women and children, elderly men, or herds of defenseless animals. Kirik growled.

I didn't realize the pampered among you were so stupid as to not believe even the most unskilled combatant can get lucky with an arrow and kill a man. I sincerely hope you keep that idea, and throw yourself into every fight you can find. And I hope someone get's lucky and does everyone a favor. Kirik grabbed a large portion of the food off the table, piling it onto one of the wooden plates. Probably more than his fair share, but not overly so.

But as always, the Chelaxian wants the Nomad to leave. That's fine, I'd rather eat in the stables with the horses, than out here with a Chelaxian pig. Come, Sharp-Eye.

The saurian snarled and walked towards the stable, ahead of Kirik. Had we known you'd fight to the death for a loaf of bread, maybe the Shoanti could have hired you to kill each other in exchange for some dried meat. Kirik looked back just long enough to spit on the ground and make eye contact with Konrad for a long moment before following Sharp-Eye into the stable.

[Cyclopean]

Svetlana and Oleg both flush at Kirik's invective. "What, you really think I'd charge you for the meal without telling you?" protests Oleg he stands to face him. "My wife is just trying to be polite, but you feel the need to insult her. As the stars see me, we're not bandits." He looks as though he's about to spit, but then thinks better of it. He instead gives Konrad an appreciative nod.

"We're not warriors either, is the problem. Me, I'd just as soon die fighting to protect my stock, but I've got Svetlana to think about. Now, you..."

Oleg trails off as Svetlana rises and calms him with a touch. "I apologize for the confusion...sir," she says to Kirik, even as he begins to leave. You can tell that she is barely managing to contain her own frustration. "There is of course no charge for the meal, and if you'll help us with the bandits, we'll repay you as best as we can."

[darklink_shadow]

Kirik, interrupted on his exit, turned to the woman. Don't worry. Those bandits come, you'll have a pair of scything claws, a few dozen dagger-like teeth, and a spear, at the very least. I hate bandits. My brother is an honorable man, I am sure he'll join me in battle. The Chelaxian I don't know about. They love killing those weaker than themselves, but then again he said he would do it and they are prone to lying. But have no fear, your bandits, and any others I run across, I'll run through. I'm on edge from walking all day, and the sight of so many walls. And the Chelaxian knight, Icon of my people's suffering. He shifted his weight to move away from her. I would, however, prefer to eat with the horses. They are beautiful creatures. Despite his words, he doesn't move towards the stables again.

[LordHavelock]

"If you're trying to provoke me, with slights against Chelaxians, you'll have little luck." Remarks Konrad, though he grits his teeth and tries to keep the violent gleam from his eye. His knuckles are white where he grips the table and, "I left those you would call my countrymen behind, because they chose to exploit weakness, rather than cultivate strength in themselves. However . . ." Standing to his feet, he sets himself straight across from the burly Shoanti nomad and stares him down flat, "If you want to test your mettle against mine, we can settle that here, and now."

[teddsutcliffe]

Mercifully, Oleg's table was short enough that Perry was spared the indignity of asking for a taller chair. The trader and his wife had also avoided the common human error of assuming a halfling could only eat half as much as a human could, for which Perry was quite grateful.

He ate in silence, watching the conversation with anxious anticipation of the inevitable. Humans were the only creatures Perry had ever met who harbored such hatred for their own kind. This one--Kirik--seemed to be trying his damnedest to make as many enemies as possible. It was making Perry's skin crawl. Why was he working with Brevoy if he harbored such disdain for its inhabitants?

The other guy wasn't much better. He at least had the traders' best interests at heart, rater than just wanting to blow smoke at everybody. He, Perry could understand. It seemed he thought he was just the guy to whip this region into shape, install law and order and become a fine young prince of the happy new kingdom. His arrogance would have made Perry gag had it not been nicely contrasted against the Kirik's outright hatred.

Taking the side of a Chelaxian was throwing up red flags in Perry's head. There must be something the Shoanti knew that he didn't. He made a note to speak to Kirik and his brother the next time he had the opportunity to do so in private.

What the Shoanti said next caught Perry's attention, though. "The Chelaxian knight, icon of my people's suffering?" Fancy that. He's the icon of my people's suffering, too.

Before he could give it much thought, though, Konrad did what Perry had been waiting for him to do and challenged Kirik. More elegantly than the halfling had expected, too. Nice. His desire to stay out of the way was the only thing now preventing Perry from encouraging the two humans to settle their differences with a manly display of force.

[darklink_shadow]

Kirik grunted. If we were to fight, I could never convince Sharp-Eye not to join in on the fight. And she alone would be enough for any Chelaxian. And I don't want your dead just yet. You can die tomorrow, throwing yourself foolishly at bandits with your fantasy idea of bravery, rather than intelligently. Maybe it was just hearing her name again, but Sharp-Eye emerged from the stables, hackles raised and issuing another guttural hiss. Kirik raised a hand, but Sharp-Eye didn't stop her slow advance.

Stop, Sharp-Eye. You can eat him later. Anyways, Chelaxian. Your prowess might be impressive for your kind, but a pig isn't a great hunter. So I'm not terribly frightened by you. Besides, little piglet, if you don't love your countrymen, why are you so upset? Just stop talking, I'm going to eat with the horses. Better company.

[LordHavelock]

Konrad's eyes flicker towards Sharp-Eye advancing menacingly, and with a quick glance towards the stables he makes out the form of Harbinger, equally riled up, but disciplined enough to wait for the moment. Whatever Kirk's other intentions, it's clear to Konrad that he is more keen to talk than take action, and that more than anything else is enough to suffice his pride for the moment. 'He insults my name, calls me a pig, and slanders me for the crimes of men I have never met.' Konrad's amber eyes gleam with barely suppressed rage, 'But he lacks the conviction to act on such words. They are only so much wind to him, but I will know his mettle yet, before this venture is finished.' It was as much a promise to himself as it was an unspoken challenge to the Shoanti savage.

[Cyclopean]

After the moment of tension between Konrad and Kirik passes, the Levetons settle back into their seats. "We may not be able to fight," says Oleg, "but we'll do everything we can to help."

"I believe you asked to hear more about the bandits?" Svetlana chimes in, looking at Varon.

Oleg nods. "Well, it all started about three months ago. The bastards threatened to burn everything down and...violate...Svetlana if I didn't hand over all the furs and goods we'd stocked up on over the past month," he says through gritted teeth.

Oleg isn't done talking, but I'd rather give you guys a conversation than shove a wall of text at you.

[Cyclopean]

"There were about a dozen of them, led by this awful woman wielding two hatchets," Oleg continues after a pause. "She joked and grinned, but you know what they say--when the wolf shows you his teeth, he ain't smiling. The bitch nearly chopped my hand off, and then took Svetlana's wedding ring as payment for 'not shortening my reach.'" Oleg's face twists into a snarl. "I'd give ten times its worth just to get the damn thing back. Anyway, the bandits have been back twice since then, always on the first day of each month, always within an hour after sunrise. They've sent fewer people each time--that damn woman did most of the talking the first time, but we haven't seen her since, thank the gods. The last two times, they were led by a crude man in a hood. He only had four men with him the last time. We reckon they think we've been completely cowed. They'll be in for a surprise tomorrow, eh?"

[darklink_shadow]

Kirik snorted a laugh. What a morbid sense of humor. They'll be in for a surprise. They'll be butchered where they stand, and then I will follow their tracks back to their lair, butcher the rest of them, and then pick through their spoils and find myself this ring of yours. And then you can have it. Not for ten times its worth, but for half its worth. After all, I won't have to make it, just go and find it, and since I already know where it is, that's half the work usually. Well, unless they sold it or something. Then you'll be out of luck. I'm not in the business of tracking down jewelry. Now, tell me which direction they come from. What beasts they bring with them. Horses? Dogs?

[LordHavelock]

Korwin takes in the information nodding briefly a few times, but as Oleg begins to get into the details he stands and looks about the outpost, taking the measure of the structure as a possible defensive position. "Please continue, Master Leveton." He says, not half so interested in the fate of Oleg's missing ring as he was the bandit's leader. A woman with two hatchets, threatening and forceful enough to lead a dozen outlaws, maybe more . . . 'If all of them were to show up tomorrow, it would be a nigh impossible fight. However, the chance to dispatch their leader would leave them demoralized, potentially scattered.' He glanced over at Oleg fuming while Svetlana tried to comfort him. 'No doubt the bandits do believe they have them cowed though, there's little to describe their situation as anything else.'

"They come in through the gate, yes? To seize your stock?"

[JonRG]

Varon threw back his head and laughed, showing all of his teeth. For all the trappings of civilization, the Shoanti blood in his veins reveled at the prospect of slaughter. "Brother, I'd have thought it beneath you to take coin from squatters," he chided in Shoanti. In Common, he replied to Svetlana, "Thank you very much for the information. Do you know about the weapons they carry or their defensive capabilities?"

[darklink_shadow]

Kirik bristled at his brother's words, but he didn't reply until he thought carefully about his words. Kirik knew he would need squatter money to afford his goals; a kingdom for the Shoanti had to be built, for nomadic wandering had made them easily separated and defeated. They needed walls an borders. They could wander freely the innards of their new Kingdom, but the outer walls must be held from intruders.

In Shoanti, he replied quickly, I've spent a few months with raiders, and we discovered that squatter gold shines despite their previous owner's squalor. Every coin we have is a coin the squatters don't and their measure their own value by their coin piles. If we take all of their money, they will have to leave. And even better, we can trade their coins for their goods. And then take their coins again.

[Cyclopean]

"They come on horseback," says Svetlana. "along with a couple of extra horses pulling a wagon. They come in through the gate, like you say, load our stock into their wagon, and then ride off."

"Yeah, I reckon that's when an ambush'd hit 'em hardest," Oleg suggests, "while they're busy grabbing the loot."

Svetlana nods. "They did wear armor, but nothing heavier than hide. As for weapons, they carried short swords and bows."

"I don't think the man in the hood had a sword," adds Oleg, "just a dagger. His bow seemed a whole lot meaner, though."

Suspicion blinks across the merchant's face at the flurry of Shoanti words, but he manages not to stare or say anything about it.

[darklink_shadow]

Did you say they were going to give us horses after we slay them? Kirik says with obvious glee. We would love some new horses! But the problem is, the wind must be out ally. If the wind blows the wrong way, our dear little hunter will be noticed by scent. I guess I could just bath her the night before. Sharp-Eye immediately hisses, then appeared to sigh, and resign herself. To get them while they are looting seems reasonable. We can kill them for their crimes as they commit them. And then, since they rode horses, we can easily track the hoof prints back to their lair.

[LordHavelock]

Korwin too glowers towards the two Shoanti tribesman, making a note to approach Kirk's brother at some later point to see just what the pair of them were really about. Turning back to Oleg however, he nodded in assent.

"It is decided then. You and your wife may take shelter if you wish, but if you should choose to stand with us, it will make the message to these outlaws and any others that much more clear: Your home is your castle, and you will not see it, nor those who dwell within deprived of life or property. You are a humble man, and wife, I understand, and you need not take up arms, but if one of you will lure them in, and the other man the gate to trap them inside, we will take care of the rest, and your courage will be confirmed."

[JonRG]

Varon stares back at the Chelaxian, showing all of his teeth. He is unafraid of any challenge, let alone one from an outlander. However, he seemed to be a man of honor, if nothing else, and certainly a good ally to have in this endeavor.

[Cyclopean]

Svetlana raises her eyebrows at the mention of bathing Sharp Eye. "We usually offer to rub down our guest's horses. I hope you understand if we don't extend the offer to your friend with the feathers, there."

Oleg listens to the talk of tactics, and frowns. "I'll act as bait, sure, and I'd be more than happy to shut those bastards in, but I'll be damned if I let Svetlana into harm's way."

Svetlana sighs. "This is my home as much as yours, dear. I'll do my part to defend it. What if I hide outside the walls, and then run to shut the gate once the fighting starts? They always approach from the same direction, so it shouldn't be too risky."

[darklink_shadow]

Kirik grinned, and gestured at Sharp-Eye. Come here girl. He watched his saurian friend as she walked over, and then turned to woman. Look, Svett. I'm sure you must be interested. But she is really no more dangerous than a hunting dog. Well, to you. To her enemies she is thrice as deadly. Sharp-Eye snorted.

Ha. But she is of no danger to you. I've trained her well. She understands almost any command you could think of. Don't you girl? This was, of course, because Sharp-Eye understood common completely, but Kirik didn't give out that secret freely. I think it might be a rare opportunity you could have, to help me wash off her scales. And then maybe you won't be so frightened of her. She only kills people who are a threat to me, my brother, or herself. You are a threat to no one, little Svett. Ah, but if you don't want to, I won't insist. But when you say that you hope I understand, all I can say is that I understand you fear her for ungrounded reasons. And I would rather you did not. You should fear her for grounded reasons only. You should be no more afraid of her than you are of me, though you should fear all of us. Not because we threaten you, but because you live now only because we have decided not to kill you. Don't take that the wrong way, it's not a threat. You two should learn to defend yourselves though. If we all left, and but one person came here and decided to kill you, he would. You're weak. You need to be strong, or you live only so long as everyone in the world decides to let you. You live like prey.

[Cyclopean]

"Well, we can't all be warriors," Svetlana says mildly. "Perhaps we should have known better than to rely on the Swordlords for protection when we accepted their charter."

In any case, I'll help you clean your...whatever she is, but I'll need some instruction. I've never seen one before, let alone bathed one."

With that, Svetlana, Kirik, and Sharp-Eye go off to the stables.

I hope you'll forgive me for trying to wrap this scene up. Anyone else have anything else they want to say? Plans to make? I'll have a map of the trading post up sometime tonight.

[darklink_shadow]

Kirik shook his head. Of course everyone can be warriors. Everyone in his tribe was. Squatters were foolish people. But regardless, he and her bathed Sharp-Eye with warm water. He explained that cold water was uncomfortable for them. Despite her unfamiliarity with the saurian creature, Kirik found it was not difficult to instruct her in the care of such creatures. In truth, most other animals were more difficult.

[LordHavelock]

Konrad simply bids the others adieu before remanding himself back to the bunks and beginning the process of cleaning his armor and weapons before he could sleep comfortably.

[teddsutcliffe]

Perry was starting to deeply regret throwing in his lot with these humans. He certainly hoped Kirik's morals were more adaptable than his language suggested. For Konrad his hope was quite the opposite. Perry knew next to nothing about Shoanti - just enough to identify the two brothers as such - but he knew plenty about Chelaxians. He'd had the misfortune of spending some time there before coming to Brevoy. Yet, this Konrad was more palatable than Kirik, so far. No doubt he'd prove to be just as insufferable as his countrymen, despite his obvious distaste for his homeland.

What really killed him, though, was how the two hated each other so much. He'd be forced to take sides if this went on long enough, or risk alienating both of them. He hated taking sides.

"Thank you very much for supper," Perry said to Oleg, with a small glance toward Varon, afraid the Shoanti would challenge him for being polite to someone he could kill. "Best meal I've had in some time." This, of course, was because people underestimated how much halflings ate. "But, I must excuse myself as well. I hope you have a good night, sir." He kept his voice soft, mild, and very professional. He spoke with a slight accent, common among halfling slaves from the desert lands far to the south of Brevoy.

As he didn't fancy being alone with Konrad for too long, Perry didn't head to the bunks immediately. Instead, he scoped out the trading post. If he was going to be fighting bandits first thing tomorrow morning, he wanted to know the lay of the land at least as well as they did.

[JonRG]

Varon smiled at the halfling as he departed, showing a fair amount of teeth. Poor kid looked like a bundle of nerves... but Varon couldn't help but mess with him. They would sit down and hash out their difference. Eventually. The bard stayed awake a while longer, casting his gaze over at Oleg. "Having second thoughts about your motley crew of defenders?" Varon asked, having another drink of water.

Varon wants to have a brief conversation with Oleg in hopes of getting the man to warm up to the party. This could fail utterly, but I'm okay with that.

Diplomacy: [roll0]

That conversation over, Varon headed for bed. He didn't need to prepare for battle. His whole life had done that.

[Cyclopean]

Perry was able to scope out the better part of the trading post. On close inspection, he found that the towers on each corners were topped with simple catapults. They looked old and possibly even unusable, however. Circling around, he first smelled and then saw three pits in the ground, each about ten feet wide, covered in a wooden lattice, and filled with compost. Peering inside the stables, he saw the group's horses standing in their stalls, and Kirik and Svetlana bathing Sharp-Eye in a large metal basin.

Oleg grimaced in response to Varon's question. "Motley's the word, all right, but we'll take whatever help we can." He shruggged. "Your friend with that feathered thing? He's a bully and a brute if I ever saw one, but so long as he's fighting with us..."

As Oleg trailed off, he saw Perry about to open the door to the small building next to the stables. "Hey! Your beds are back there," he cried, gesturing with his thumb and a jerk of his head towards the building Konrad had disappeared into. "You mind not creeping around my private quarters?"

Shaking his head, he returned to his conversation with Varon. Though initially reserved, the merchant seemed receptive to Varon's apologies for the behavior of his companions. "Honestly, I don't like the fact that the Swordlords sent down adventurers like yourselves. Nothing personal," he confided as the sun began to set. "It means they're looking harder at the Stolen lands, is all. Maybe even want to see 'em properly settled. Svetlana and I thought taking the charter to turn this old fort into a trading post would be the perfect way to put some distance between ourselves and civilization. What's the use if they build a city around us?"

Oleg nodded as Varon excused himself at the end of their conversation. "Ought to get some rest myself. Well, you seem alright. Try to keep your friends under control."

[teddsutcliffe]

Perry jumped when Oleg shouted at him and recoiled from the door like it was hot. The panic of being caught faded quickly as he remembered that he was an adventurer now, and he had every right to be here. The human just didn't want him nosing around his quarters. Perry held up his hands in a gesture of innocence.

"I meant no harm, sir, my apologies."

A little slighted at the idea that he would be creeping around, rather than doing the perfectly reasonable thing of scoping out the area, Perry made his way back to the bunks. He took off his backpack and a long tube he had worn over his shoulder, from which he produced a large sheet of sturdy parchment. On it was a hand-drawn map of the Stolen Lands. It was precise, but not very detailed. Perry had drawn everything he could find out about the area, but not much was known past the small dot that represented the trading post.

Perry scowled at it. After the small dot that represented the trading post, there was nothing but blank space. Certainly nothing to warn him of what was to come. He rolled the parchment back up and sealed it in its case.

[Cyclopean]

Oleg seemed satisfied enough with Perry's apology. He certainly didn't seem to pay the halfling any special attention when he next saw him.

The next morning was tense. Svetlana served a hasty breakfast of plain porridge, and Oleg once more tried to persuade her to hide inside the safety of their quarters during the attack.

After eating, little remains to be done. The Levetons heap their tribute up on the table where you were eating a moment before, hiding the rough wood beneath furs, cured meat, some coin, and even a few weapons and potions. Their eyes are filled with a wild hope: perhaps this is the last time they will be subjected to this humiliation.

Meanwhile, their defenders settled into position, crouching inside or behind the simple buildings of the trading post, waiting for Konrad to spy the enemy. Almost exactly an hour after sunrise, he saw them emerge from the woods: a handful of men on horseback, leading a wagon drawn by a pair of horses straight towards the repurposed fort.

Konrad barely had time to get down the stairs and mount Harbinger before being spotted himself. Just after he getting into position for the ambush, he and his companions began to hear the approach of the bandits. The sound of clopping hooves, rattling wheels, and sharp laughter build until they are cut off by a pounding at the gate.

"C'mon and let us in, Oleg, brays a harsh voice, "or we'll throw in some fire to speed up your ass!" Oleg grimaces and pulls open the gate, muttering something about Pharasma.

You hear them drawing forward, closing on the wares they have come to seize. In a moment they will enter your view and begin loading their wagon. The trap is ready to be sprung.

[JonRG]

Varon grinned wildly to himself, squatted unceremoniously as he was behind a grain barrel. He glimpsed their leader, who mostly watched his lackeys work. Didn't look too bright, but he looked like a good hand with a bow. When the man's back is turned, Varon leaps out from behind his cover and, with a yell, attempts to trip their leader. Even if his efforts failed, it would at least signal the others to strike.

Made one too many rolls, says the GM. Worked out in my favor. :smallbiggrin:

Trip: [roll0]
Grapple: [roll1]

[darklink_shadow]

Hungry for battle only just slightly less than he was hungry for the cause, Kirik leapt to strike out at a bandit who was loading up goods. Being smart enough to understand signals, Sharpeyes charged forward to rend a bandit to shreds.


Probably can't charge due to angles, so move and attack? If this is a surprise round, I can only move, so I'll just move. If I can also attack, my attacks are included below.
As for positioning, Kirik and Sharpeyes will try to move to be as surrounded as possible.
Kirik's spear jab
[roll0] to hit
[roll1] damage (piercing)

Sharpeyes' slashing claws
[roll2] to hit
[roll3] damage (Slashing)

[Cyclopean]

Varon's whip wrapped around the hooded man's leg, and then pulled it out from under him. With a shocked yelp, he crashed face-first into the ground. Oleg flashed a grin and ran to the relative safety of his private quarters.

EDIT: Kirik and Sharp Eye darted forward. While Sharp Eye tore a gash across the downed leader's throat, Kirik impaled one of his men on his spear. Somehow, he managed not to fall, though his screaming was blood-curdling.

Apparently this isn't dead yet! As a reminder, we are in a surprise round; I'm going to need actions from everyone who isn't Nya LH before we advance to Round 1. The bandits are all flat-footed, and their apparent leader is prone.

Initiative:

Konrad: [roll0]
Kirik: [roll1]
Sharp Eye: [roll2]
Perry: [roll3]
Varon: [roll4]

Values are imprecise for the enemies; I don't have access to their initiative modifiers off the top of my head. However, they're so dumbfounded by this show of resistance that they take steep penalties to their rolls.

Hooded Man: [roll5] + x =

Bandit 1: [roll6] + x =
Bandit 2: [roll7] + x =
Bandit 3: [roll8] + x =

[teddsutcliffe]

Perry, not hungry for battle in the least, casts Shield of Faith on himself and remains as hidden as he can while casting spells.

Not sure if I need to roll a Hide check or not but just in case
[roll0]