Heirs of the New World: Explorers

[Reogan]

Rhenis! City of Opportunity, City of Hope. Malvis saw to it that this motto made itself true. Of the four Great Cities of Novis, here alone has there never been true famine. Here, there has never been true plague. Here, squabbles with the Natives always end up resolved with little bloodshed. Most of the generous shipments from the old Continent went straight to social programs made to support an ever-growing population and to foster and inspire new ways to expand the influence and beneficence of the Law.

The arrival of the Martyr's Blood and its fleet changed things in an instant. Apparently coordinated by magic, the change in leadership was instant. The moment Benus stepped from the ship, a legion of clerics behind him, new flags appeared on each government building. Law. The flags of Rhenis and Novis found themselves below the Church on every pole. Conscripted paupers ran from place to place announcing that the new Lord Judge would see applicants for Peacekeepers immediately.

The city changed. Rhenis was now the City of Order and the City of Law. The shipments from the Continent go to financing the Peacekeepers and towards projects which have not yet seen public disclosure. The only part of Malvis' legacy preserved is the verbatim quote which forms Benus' mission statement: "To Foster and Inspire new Ways to Expand the Influence and the Beneficence of the Law."

It has been a month, and now people from all over have had a chance to prepare for Benus' long-since announced second mission: Exploration and Intelligence Gathering. The Church would finance missions into the wilderness, sowing constant support in return for constant results. The wilds are untamed and chaotic. That, we know, will not stand.

Your group has been through the Citadel--so quickly built from the old Office of the Lord Judge which Malvis kept so small--and up the eight obsidian steps to the Court of the Lord Judge. Here, dozens of criminals have been given sentences harsh enough to fit their crimes. Here, the Peacekeepers who keep the streets clear of litter by force and enforce curfew have all been commissioned. And here behind his desk, now, is Benus.

Despite the muggy summer heat, he wears the full Vestment of the Lord Judge without a sign of exhaustion. The heavy woolen cloak stitched with gold symbolizes virtue within humility. On Benus, it seems to be a tangible aura of authority. Black as night, it contrasts sharply with his white hair and beard, his violently green eyes, and the blood red ruby amulet which hangs on a silver chain from his neck. Old, as far as humans go, Benus nevertheless seems to hold a barely restrained power. His dignity is a threat and his disinterest a blessing. This man is not known for his mercy.

"Expedition Group 15," he says in a voice much too thin for his grandeur. He marks a piece of paper. Only now does he look up at you, glancing at each of you almost mechanically, evaluating and calculating.

"I declare you fit. You will be venturing northwards. Our tasks in this land are manifold, and mine is the burden of parceling them out to you. What manner of quest is most fitting? Exploration and claim? Contact and taming? How can you best benefit the Church by your powers?"

His short, clipped words and lack of any niceties seem to indicate that the Lord Judge does not suffer procrastinators gladly.

[Breton]

I look up at the man who ruined this city. This place used to be Hope itself. The best place in the new world. Right here we had a schematic of how it could be - peace with the natives, prosperity for the people. Peace and prosperity. Then this man arrived and dragged it back into the mire he came from. Back to masters and slaves. Back to being flecked by spit from a pulpit and being splashed by blood from the natives. Spit and blood. And here I am, walking to the pulpit to take my benediction in both.

I briefly consider trying to end him. Maybe I could get a shot off with my bow. Maybe if I gave it everything I've got it would even hit. No, not possible, not worth it. I can't heal the wound in front of me with a weapon. Not the kind I can hold in my hand anyway.

I don't know what the others want out of this. But the for the chance to get out into the wilds, to see something new? That's worth bending my knee to this man.

For me, exploration, Lord Judge. I can move quietly, know my way around the wilds, and I'm used to acting as a scout and guide.

I can't speak for the others though. I'll do the job I'm given, just like always.

I look down the line at the rest of my team. A warforged. Huh. That's almost interesting, but there's no knowing what he wants to do. And a human. He's a warrior if ever there was one. He has a look in his eye, I've seen it before. It's a gaze that says he's seen blood, and spilled his own fair share of it. I'm not sure I even want to know. The last one's an elf. Holy warrior type. That's all we need. I wonder if any of them ever learn their mistake.

[TelinArtho]

Sir Ellethon bows to the Lord Judge.

I am here to provide service and bring Hieroneous to the savages that fill this land. Claims can go on unopposed for some time until the claims become too much for those who were here before. By teaching them our words, law, and order we can sow a peace like that we have seen in the mother country. For that, I am here. Enough blood has been spilt on the behalf of fighting.

[Trasilor]

A new lord judge? Not surprised. If there is one thing The Church has taught me, guys like Malvis don't last. Maybe one day things will be different, but today, I've got a job to do.

Rannic listens intently as other begin to introduce themselves, A scout? Excellent. Were going to need one as we venture deep into the wilderness .

A holy warrior? A bit surprising, but not uncommon with The Church. Peace without bloodshed? If only that were true...

For a brief moment, Rannic dreams of world without fighting, and for a fraction of a second, the tinest smile can be seen. However, he soon pulls himself out of his daydream and steps forth, saluting the Lord Judge.

Contact, Lord Judge. I am familiar with the region and I can speak their language. And when fighting ensues, I am well versed in martial combat.

[Sønderjye]

Ejnar's eyes lock on the Benus. Target: Lord Benus. Attitude: Neutral. Importance: 5. Reaction: Show moderate respect.

I strongly prefer exploration. he responds with a short bow. He listens to what is said but does not comment.

[Reogan]

Benus speaks first to Ness, holding him with his glitt'ring eye.

"Should your willingness to do whatever job it comes to be stem from obedience, you will do well as a servant of the Church. Should, however, it come from apathy, you yet have the opportunity to turn away. I would advise it."

He turns to Ellethon.

"You are right that enough blood has been spilt. Indeed, the only military imperative we ever have is that of warring to spread peace under the Law. Bloodshed is, by all accounts, less than desirable. These are, though, savage lands, and not just due to the primitive peoples that dwell herein. I hope you are capable of defending yourself."

It is a question, not a statement. He does not, though, allow time for a response, moving directly to Trasilor.

"Combat and linguistics? Interesting. Both, though, will lead to contact. Anything will. It is impossible to live on Novis long without dealing with the tribes, as I understand it. Both of your skills will be called on there."

He only glances at Ejnar before speaking to the group as a whole.

"Exploration is your inclination and exploration it will be. Should you encounter natives open to it, evangelization is always welcome. Encouraged, even. You will receive payment should you do good work. As it is, we cannot afford to simply dole out endless resources to every party applying for work, but that is not to say we will not provide aid. Is there anything of which you expect to have need?"

[Breton]

As Roland ponders the Lord Judge's question, he feels his near compulsive need to be equipped for anything kick in. His mind races over what he knows about the region.

What do we need? What's the weather like North of Rhenis this time of year, and what kind of terrain's up there? Maybe I should stock up on pitons..
Knowledge (nature): [roll0]

And what kind of locals live around here...
Knowledge (local): [roll1]

[Reogan]

The weather has been generally good. Rain happens but storms are rare. At least for now. In a while, the summer will likely bring the occasional storm. North gains heat and altitude. What lies far north hasn't been seen, as survivors do not return from such long treks, but even in the unmapped lands directly north, you know to expect plains and small forests. Not even a swamp to worry about.

Orcs are the nearest residents of the Rhenin sphere of influence, and beyond them are disparate goblin tribes. Technically, the area directly north is also considered to be in the territory of Dargo, a minotaur who refers to himself as a Plains Lord. Other creatures have been known to be around, but none with permanent residence.

[Breton]

Hate to impose, Lord, but since you offered.

This time of year we get rains, and we're headed into storms. We could use some tents for the team and a beast of burden to carry them.

There's also the question of protecting the campsites. The region North is mostly plains and forests, and those trees and long grasses give a lot of cover to anyone sneaking up on you. We'll need a hunting dog to help watch for trouble at night.

[TelinArtho]

Sir Ellethon regards the request for equipment strangely, but says nothing directly to it. Instead he responds to Bemus's statement.

I have been more than adequately trained in the art of defense and offense, of that you should have no worry.

As for equipment, I have no further needs. My service to Heironeous will provide me what I have not already procured in His service. The church of course can receive my stipend.

[Reogan]

"Tents can be arranged, and I can offer you a mule," Benus says, writing on a pad of paper. "Short of commandeering one, we lack a dog to offer. Or, rather, we lack the inclination to offer one. Is there anything else?"

[Trasilor]

Rope, Lord Judge. In addition to the tents and mule, an extra couple hundred feet of rope and climbing gear.

[Breton]

So. The new regime doesn't keep dogs. They're probably too wild for the Church. Anything with a spirit that free must sicken and die under the city's new banners.

If there's time I'll try and find one in the city, there always used to be someone with a crate of pups to sell.

...

Climbing gear. Interesting choice. The land's flat in every direction. Is this one even more paranoid than I am?

Still, we might end up in a cave system, or needing to throw together a rope bridge. I guess you can never have too much rope.

Should I ask for them for another four hundred feet of rope? Or would that try the good Lord's patience.

Don't know how obvious it is, but all the grey italic Book Antiqua is just Roland's internal monologue :smallbiggrin:

[Reogan]

"Two hundred feet of rope? No, fifty more than that."

Benus writes.

"And if that is all...?"

[Breton]

Yes, lord.

[Trasilor]

Rannic nods his head in agreement. Indeed nothing else

[TelinArtho]

Sir Ellethon curtly bows, stands straight and turns to leave with the others without further word.

This shall be a fine era for Heironeous. We shall be triumphant, in His name. He thinks as they walk out the door.

[Reogan]

Behind a desk, a secretary elf sits in front of a massive filing structure that would be best described as overflowing with papers but for the disorder implied by the statement. Under her expert guidance, it seems, even the madness of the half the major paperwork of a continent seems well managed. Still behind the desk, next to the cabinets and cubbies, a lone door sits in the wall, unassuming oak like all the others. This door is mirrored by another across the room, making these the only two ways into the parts of the building that aren't the hallway from which you came.

As you walk in, stepping across the obsidian highlights in the white marble floor which spell out the city's motto, the secretary reaches a practiced hand under the desk, withdraws a bundle of forms, and drops four of them in one expert sweeping motion across the desk. She quickly drops a pen by each, adding two inkwells so each person can have one shared within easy reach. The forms are not long; the ten pages require only signatures and brief notes on the breed of mission you expect to undertake.

"These papers will be copied and stored in every major city across the continent, with copies sent back to the Old World. Any Requisition form will likely arrive here as you sign." The woman's voice has something of a foreign lilt to it; likely, she was raised in one of the frontier towns.

She proves to be right. A particularly short halfling soon enters through the door behind the desk, carrying a piece of paper. He hands it to the elf and leaves wordlessly. The secretary begins to copy it onto a new sheet, finishing before any of you can complete your own forms. As you finish, she hands it to you.

"Take this sheet, which will serve to get you your supplies, which should be ready within the hour at our warehouse. The location is marked. Further, it will ensure you free and safe lodging from here to Eksel. In Eksel, you'll report to the Judge Prent or his representative for your specific assignment, though that will likely be in written form and not an actual meeting"

[Trasilor]

Paperwork, I had forgotten how much bureaucracy the Old World liked. Well, nothing to be done but to read through this. Rannic had been employed by the government before and knew the importance of reading their documents.

"Well Miss, these all appear to be in order. Thank you for your time." Turning towards the other members of Expedition Group 15,"Seems like we have a bit of time to kill before our requisitions hit the warehouse, don't suppose any of you would like to join me for quick bite? Name's Rannic by the way.

Taking a "10" to read the forms - basically looking for any language which is suspicious (if INT based then 12 if WIS based then 9 results). I don't expect any, as such continued with the action.

[TelinArtho]

Sir Ellethon takes a thorough read through the documents, but signs them at the end and hands them back. Turning to Rannic, he introduces himself.

Sir Ellethon of the Holy Order of Heironeous, at your pleasure. I agree with you about food; starting this measure off on a note of companionship will help us know our potential. Lead the way good sir.

[Reogan]

As you speak, the tiny halfling (thirdling, perhaps?) scurries back into the room and hands the elf a piece of parchment. She glances at it, thanks him as he scurries away, and turns to your party again.

"It seems that there is a fresh adventurer lacking a party. He professes little in the way of actual skills, but seems to profess this very well. His goals are not entirely opposed to your own. If you wish, I can send Fello to have him meet you at the warehouse once the forms are amended. Would this be acceptable?"

[Trasilor]

Do we have a choice? Yes that will be just fine. Turning towards the knight, Sir Ellethon, there is a great little vendor who sells some type of warm spiced meat in the square on the way to the warehouse. The rest of you are more than welcome to join us.

Heading out the door, on the way to the warehouse, Rannic continues to converse with Sir Ellethon. So a holy warrior, don't think I've ever met one before. How long have you been in the New World?

[TelinArtho]

A few years yet - at least a decade or more. To be honest, it hasn't been too much of a concern with me for time. My service called me here and I've been doing what I can to help Heironeous. What about yourself?

[Trasilor]

Not nearly that long, six years in fact. I wish it was for some higher purpose, but I came here for work, mostly. When I came here I didn't have much. But a strong back and willingness to work has done me well.

Ah here we are. as they come upon a vendor. Rannic orders two skewers covered in grilled vegetables and meats. I tell you, my friend, these things are delicious. handing Sir Ellethon a skewer.

While walking towards the warehouse, Rannic continues between mouthfuls , I will be honest, I am not entirely sure what the Lord Judge hopes for us to accomplish. I know he wants us to explore and meat these natives, but then what? Establish trade? Kill'em all on sight? Say 'hello'?. Rannic almost seems to be rambling to noone in particular. He finishes his last question with a bit of a sigh then turns towards Sir Ellethon,What do you think Ellethon?

[TelinArtho]

Sir Ellethon takes the offered skewer and bites from it tenderly, if a little precautiously. Finding the taste to be adequate however, he continues the conversation as much as he can for his part.

Say Hello would be the most appropriate choice out of the bunch you have suggested. What we need here, in order to exist cooperatively is a common line of communication. As you might know, language barriers and customs are difficult to break down. My hope is that the guiding spirit of Heironeous will be able to help all of us exist in a way that is mutually beneficial. Truly, I have already seen enough fighting on this side of the pond to make me wish to put an end to it.

That's my take anyway. Of course, if they can't be altered from their course, then violence is still an answer. Just not one I would prefer.

[Reogan]

The warehouse is a large, vaguely smelly building on the outskirts of town. There's a thin hubbub about as people come and go, some bringing goods, some taking them. The road should be rutted with wheel tracks from the carts, but the Church sees to their constant maintenance. You are directed to what seems to be a side door, and a burly dwarven woman, who introduces herself as Asthara, receives your list.

"Two tents, a mule, and some rope? Not too difficult. I'll have it brought over."

She enters the warehouse. Meanwhile, your party is likely approached by a stranger.

[TelinArtho]

Waiting patiently for the equipment to be brought forth, Sir Ellethon observed the stranger coming toward the others and himself.

Are you the other person who would be joining us?

[UristMcRandom]

I'm assuming that's my cue. If it isn't, just disregard this post.
A tall man dressed in a simple cloth shirt and leather pants approached the group, shouldering an axe and smiling warmly. He nodded and extended a calloused hand as Sir Ellethon spoke, "So I'm told, James Carter at yer service."

[TelinArtho]

Well met then Mr. Carter. This here is... Rannic? Yes that's right. And I am Sir Ellethon. How much have you heard about our expedition?

Once the pleasantries are dealt with, Ellethon will fill in Carter on the specifics of their discussion with Lord Benus.

... So basically our mission is to see if the nearby savages can be brought to the light of Heironeous, or at least learned enough to converse with and bring about some peace, finally, to this land.

[Trasilor]

Rannic shakes the hand of their final companion and waits for Sir Ellethon to finish speaking.Aye, Sir Ellethon speaks it plainly. The only thing we are waiting for now is our requisition, then we head out into the wilderness.

[UristMcRandom]

James shrugged in response to Sir Ellethon's question, "Lord Benus said something 'bout exploration, but not much else.". He listened attentively as Sir Ellethon and Rannic explained, "Ah, alrighty then. I've got a wagon 'round front being loaded up. How's about I meet y'all over there when Asthara gets back with yer requisition?"

[TelinArtho]

As if realizing he made a grievous error, Sir Ellethon started and looked to the south.

Actually, I should quickly go and retrieve my steed as well since it occurs to me we are on the wrong side of the city to pass her by directly. I shall return forthwith or if you have all departed from here, I will make sure to catch up to you by the time you are at the city gates.

He bade you all apologies for his hasty departure, and then set off at a run to go to the stables.

He'll make sure to catch up - his horse is certainly speedy enough to do so. Of course, much less so for his mule...

[Reogan]

As you speak, Asthara returns with the supplies. All is accounted for: two tents, the mule, and three hundred feet of hempen rope.
"It's standard to give a little extra rope," explains Asthara. "They say, you know, 's'nough to hang yourself with. Probably just a joke."

---------------------

Eksel is 7 miles to the north. The road leading to it is beginning to be laid with stone, but only an hour from Rhenis it has fallen into being little more than one great rut leading northwards. Never a great forest, the landscape near the path has been clear-cut to allow comfortable sight lines in such a dangerous land. Or, rather, what was a dangerous land. Between two civilized points, the road is safe enough that you see lone travelers walking towards the main city. The sky is bright and blue, fading slowly as the hours advance. Perhaps three after you've started out, the sun is beginning to dip into its late afternoon slump, the ground is shifting again to stone, and you are entering through the wall of Eksel.
Eksel, like any city in a dangerous foreign land, began well-fortified with comfort eschewed for security. Not much has had time to change, and the outer wall is still a double layered log affair. Compared to Rhenis--or, certainly, anywhere back across the sea--this city is small. On a busy day, it might push one thousand people, and that's only before half of them return to Rhenis before supper.
The guards ask what your purpose is, and upon ascertaining it, one points you to an inn where your papers will suffice as payment.

[TelinArtho]

Atop his steed, Sir Ellethon keeps a vigilant eye as they travel, wary of any who might accost them. Still, he was happy to not have to pull his bow for the duration of their trip to Eksel.

Once they arrived and permitted entry, Sir Ellethon doesn't immediately leave the sentry area.

How have the past few weeks been around here? Any notable native behavior we should be aware of? Our expedition is heading out to make some dealings with them, but if tensions have been abnormally high, we'd certainly want to know that before we set out.

Also, if you please, could you direct me to the nearest altar of Heironeous, assuming one has been constructed here?

[Trasilor]

As Sir Ellethon questions the sentries, Rannic begins to head into the town. Turning back, he calls to Sir Ellethon, Meet at the tavern for sup? Otherwise, tomorrow outside the tavern an hour after first light. . With that, he heads into the town itself.

Having spent a couple of years in these frontier towns, Rannic knew that traders often dealt with the indigenous people. Heading to the market square, he began to talk to the vendors who seemed to be selling 'native' goods. He knew that most of these were fake as the natives rarely traded with his people, but sometimes actual traders existed. He focused his efforts on the traveling merchants as he reasoned they would more likely encounter natives. His goal was to find a merchant who could provide them with the name of a 'friendly' contact or tribe (or at least a tribe that is willing to trade).


I figure this is a Gather information roll as Rannic would be talking to multiple vendors trying to glean any information he can.

He would use his diplomacy skill to push "friendly" vendors to "helpful".

Ultimately, he is either looking for a merchant who actually deals with natives or the name of tribe/individual native that are friendly towards traders.

Diplomacy Roll: [roll0]
Gather Information Roll: [roll1]

EDIT: and the die roller hates me...

[Reogan]

Ellethon, the guards tell you that it's been mostly quiet. One trader has been reported missing as of a few days ago, but such reports are often only caused by delays and not by true danger. Of course, dangers abound, and this trader--the halfling, Tremin--might actually be in danger or worse. The guards are not themselves too concerned, and do not seem to expect any actions will be taken. The Goblins of the Far-Seeing Tribe have been less than talkative of late, and as such, the fur trade is slowed. But that, too, has not grown to be a great concern.

You are directed to the Temple of the Three--a common sort of sacred ground. The single building has three fully divided chapels in addition to the larger areas for common worship. As this temple still has elements of the makeshift quality you might expect from a frontier town--only the floor has so far been set with marble and obsidian--it is clean and quiet. As ordained, all three sub-chapels are evenly proportioned, and that of Heironeous has an altar set with a few poor lapis lazuli webbed with some almost electric white impurity. On the whole, it is a nice effect. You are, at this hour, the only worshipper in this wing. The offerings laid on the altar are not mean--the handful of silver and couple dozen copper are ample offering from a town so small when there are two other altars and that of the Law itself to adorn.

Rannic, people aren't necessarily happy to talk with such a poorly-spoken and vaguely abrasive stranger. Mind, adventurers have money, and they don't work to shed your conversation too quickly. A general consensus is that the orcs in the north deal in furs, but that the goblins will kill you for your skins. Or maybe it's the other way around. You're pretty bad at gathering information.


The rooms at the inn are comfortable enough, and between two of them, there's enough bed for all of you to sleep, though not necessarily for you all to have your own. Mice seem to keep to themselves and bugs aren't above an acceptable size. The dinner is a flavorless mash of some variety and a broth so rich and salty you feel you would be happy drinking it for the rest of your life, which would likely be very brief if you did.

[TelinArtho]

Ellethon thanked the guards for their help before heading on his way. He stayed around the temple after performing his rituals to see if anyone came up to him, seeking aid. Assuming none do though, Ellethon stabled his horse and mule and retired for the night with the others.

In the morning, finding himself well rested enough, Ellethon explained his findings from the guards to the others.

It might be well worth starting with the goblin tribe. If they already had a trade agreement set up, then that might be a quick success early on and, hopefully, will not degenerate unless the lack of activity is due to some other sinister force. As much as I'd like to look into the trader's disappearance, that is unfortunately outside of our scope of activity for now. It would be good to keep an eye out for him though, just in case. I'm sure his family is missing him.

[Trasilor]

After a long day of travelling and fruitless time spent trying to find out about the local tribes, Rannic is happy to find sleep - even on the soft bed of an inn.

With the rising sun, Rannic heads outside to perform his morning ritual. Dressed in only simple clothes and carrying his greatsword, Rannic finds a quiet spot free of people. For the first half hour, he performs basic exercise routine without his weapon. His movements working his muscles, conditioning and strengthening them. Over the next half hour, he picks up his weapon and works through various attack and defense routines. Twisting and turning, thrusting and parrying he virtually dances though the morning dew.

As he finishes, he heads back to the tavern wondering what sort of gruel they will pass for breakfast. Practically running into Sir Ellethon on his way to the tavern, he explains what little he found out the day before. Sitting down for breakfast with the others, he listens to Sir Ellethon's suggestion.

Ellethon, I think you have the right of it. Let's head out and try and contact these goblins.

[UristMcRandom]

James got up in the morning and headed out to his wagon, giving a scoop of feed to each of his donkeys and sharpening his axe. He unlocked his chest and gingerly removed his lute from its wrappings. He met with Sir Ellethon and Rannic at the breakfast table, gently strumming on the lute while they spoke. "Sounds good to me. I'll just run back upstairs 'n' grab my stuff, then I'll be ready to go whenever y'all are."

[TelinArtho]

First order of business is getting information on where this tribe of goblins might be. The guards seemed at least willing to talk, but if the goblins are fur traders, maybe we should find someone who trades with their wares in town first.

After their breakfast, Sir Ellethon went to tend to his mount and the mule, spending time with each of them before mounting and heading out, waiting for the others.

[Trasilor]

After finishing breakfast, Rannic returned to his room and gathered all his gear. Once satisfied he had everything properly stowed, heads out to join Ellethon.

Approaching Ellethon as he feads his animals Rannic calls to him. You know, I just recalled we are supposed to meet a Judge Prent up in Eksel to get our assignment. Perhaps we should go there first.

[TelinArtho]

My wits are adled. True enough, let us start there...

Sir Ellethon admonishes himself for not being more present with the moment. Still, he was glad to have the information he had, if only for slight benefit with the Judge.

[Reogan]

Being in Eksel already, the party proceeds to the Town Hall, which is just behind the Temple of the Three. Though assured by everyone that "you can't miss it", the Hall turns out to be a humble two-room affair that you can very well miss. Twice. The wooden office--maybe even "shack"--has no adornment and no sign. It's only when you enter that you see any sign of the white marble which is endemic to Stations of the Law. This, too, is humble. It's simply an inlay of the three triangles arranged into another triangle which constitutes the Trinity--symbol of the Three Gods. This sits unobtrusively in the small entryway between the two doors. One is labeled JUDGE PRENT and one MAYOR STRIX.


The Judge is a very old halfling man who smiles when you enter, showing more gaps than teeth. He beckons you into his office, a room nearly entirely occupied by the shelving and drawers which cover ever inch of wall not occupied by the door. While everything is in a place, you can see edges of papers poking out from drawers and papers almost spilling from their cubbyholes. Everything is technically in order, but the order is not neat. It is not orderly. It's no surprise that this man before you, almost hidden behind a teetering stack of papers, was sent out here. Though no mandate directly decrees it, those who allow their workspaces to become so...loose rarely advance in the world.
Prent beckons you over, lifting a small bowl from his desk and offering it to you.
"Candy?" he asks. "It's always nice to get guests. What do you want with old Prent?"

The candies are caramels coated in sugar. You suspect this may have cost Prent his teeth.

[UristMcRandom]

James accepts a couple of the caramels from the dish, smiling at the kindly-looking judge before he speaks, "Lord Benus up in Rhenis sent us ta yer office, yer honor. I guess my companions here can tell ya more, I'm not entirely set on tha details myself," he popped one of the candies into his mouth once he finished speaking.

[TelinArtho]

Although inwardly, Sir Ellethon is a little disgusted by the degeneration of Judge Prent's office, he does his best to contain himself.

I am Sir Ellethon, Judge. As my companion says, we were sent here by Lord Benus to work of converting the local tribes to a more friendly disposition so that more proper expansion can progress in the name of The Three. We are here to gather any information you have for us on the local tribes, particularly if there are any that are causing trouble that would be especially urgent in that respect.

Sir Ellethon declines the caramels politely.

[Trasilor]

No...thank you Rannic states, declining the candies.

Name's Rannic. As Ellethon here pointed out, we were called to action by Benus, er Lord Judge Benus. I do believe they gave us some paperwork. He trails off as he searches for the documentation they were provided the day before.

Here it is fishing out a rolled up document, edges slightly folded from being stuffed into his pack earlier that day.

We were told to present ourselves to you or you staff to receive our orders. Our understanding of Benus's request is still...unclear. Hopefully, you can bring forth some clarity.

[Reogan]

Prent seems honestly surprised that his candies were mostly refused, and more concerned about this than whatever it was you came here to do. He ignores the proffered document for a moment as he sets down the bowl and takes a candy for himself. He smiles as the rich sweetness fills his mouth. Eyes closed in contemplation of the flavor, he reaches out a hand and grabs for the papers, eventually taking hold. He hardly glances at it before speaking.

"Very standard stuff. Your understanding isn't unclear; it's the orders. Specifics are regional, commission is central. So let's hit some specifics. Your document indicates that you aren't looking for work as a soldier or settler group as much as a diplomatic mission. Is that correct? Because if so, there's easily work for you. Two major tasks."

He gets up and pushes his chair against one of the walls. With dexterity only a halfling could hope to hold onto at such an advanced age, he jumps onto the seat and then climbs up to teeter on the high back as he reaches for a paper in a high cubby. Taking it, he carefully steps down and returns his chair, grabbing a opening a drawer on his desk and withdrawing a second paper. He did not have to search for either. Though this be madness, there is a method in't.

"Alright. We've got two major issues at hand that might work for you. First, the Far-Seers aren't being very communicative. They are, historically, our most major trade partner among the tribes. They specialize in furs, and with those, Eksel has become the fur capital of the four-city area. Which, mind, isn't the most impressive thing, considering that three of those cities are hardly more than overgrown forts, and the fourth is hemmed in by the rest. Nonetheless, these goblins haven't been receptive to contact for about a month now.

So option one, try to make friends with the Spirit People.

Our other problem is the friendly local orc population, whose main concern is which skin to wear tonight. Or whether to try to find a new one. From Eksel. Off the backs of our people. It's not the most diplomatic mission, but maybe you could go tell them to stop? Probably with more violence than any of us would want, but these Cave People have been there for a few months now, and it's becoming clear that they aren't going anywhere nor changing their behavior. Have you heard about Tremin? I haven't said anything in public that was less than optimistic, but I worry he might have fallen prey to the orcs.

So, option two, try to make peace with the Cave People. And maybe find Tremin.

Actually, finding Tremin no matter what would be a good thing. If he's safe and you find word, what if I put you down for a bonus of, say five hundred each, and if you save him from something I'll double it? That on top of your commission. Which, I suppose, I could make an even five thousand should you succeed. For the party, not for each of you."

He smiles.

"Interested?"

[Trasilor]

As a matter of fact, I believe Sir Ellethon has heard about Tremin. Before seeing you, we had asked around, to get a feel of the surrounding area. Your reports match much of what we have learned.

Regardless, we'll take both jobs. Price seems fair.

Indicating the documents within the messy office,

Don'd suppose there's a map of the region showing us the orc caverns and goblin tribe?

Also, do you know where Tremin was heading and what he was trying to do?

[TelinArtho]

Ellethon gladly accepts the offered tasks. He knows the bonus money could be used wisely for the church, but says nothing more about it.

I think given the tense situation, the cave people would be the ideal first place to go. Furs are important for warmth; but skin is necessary for our continued survival. Perhaps we can look into both at once, but let us proceed with this order of task first.

[UristMcRandom]

"Sounds good to me," James says, still sucking on the piece of caramel from the judge's dish, he swallowed before addressing the judge again, "Thank you kindly, yer honor, I s'pose we'll be headin' out now." He started to turn, but then paused, "D'you mind if I...?" he said, indicating the candy dish.

I don't know if this is necessary, but a Diplomacy check to be graceful: If I can, I'd like to take 10 (for a result of 23), if not: [roll0]

[Reogan]

http://i1168.photobucket.com/albums/r484/Reogan/Mini%20Eksel%20Map.gif (http://s1168.photobucket.com/user/Reogan/media/Mini%20Eksel%20Map.gif.html)

At the request for a map, Prent blinks. He seems somewhat surprised, but happy to oblige. He opens a drawer that seems filled with maps of the area, and finds one that looks appropriate. He grabs a pen and sketches on a G and an O--"For Goblins and Orcs"--before drawing a curved line.

"That's about the path you'll want to take. If you go straight through, you'll run through a little woods with some big monsters. They generally don't come out, so we generally don't worry about them. Some folks want to burn it down, but that'd just make problems, wouldn't it? 'Course, maybe that's where Tremin went missing. Or it was the orcs. Or he just went elsewhere without telling anyone. I was under the impression that he was off to do some trading. He might have said it was with the Spirit People or I might have presumed it. Either way."

"If you go to the Cave People first, follow the path, if you can see it, until you're around the forest. Once you can go north, go north until you reach the rocky hills just off of this map. They have caves there, I think. We tend to avoid them, not research them. Oh, by the way, does anyone speak the native tongue?"

James, he smiles at you and nods.

[Trasilor]

Taking the map from the old halfling, Rannic neatly tucks it away.

Thank you for the map and the words of caution. And yes, I can speak the native tounge. Unless there is anything else, I do believe we will be heading off, again thank you.

As he heads out the door, Rannic raises an eyebrow at James's request for the candy.

[UristMcRandom]

James took three or four more of the candies before leaving, once again smiling at the old judge.

Once they're out the door, he looks at Rannic sheepishly, "What? They're good," he says, popping a second candy in his mouth.

[TelinArtho]

Sir Ellethon thanks their benefactor and follows the others out.

Let's make haste. If the cave people have Tremin or if the spirit people do, we'll have to figure that out at one place or the other. Since the Judge wasn't sure himself, let's deal with the threat of the cave people first and go from there.

[Reogan]

Gauging the distance on your map, you think you'll probably be forced to camp in the wilderness regardless of the route you follow unless you begin traveling directly towards the Goblins, in which case you will have to hope they know hospitality. This, though, would require you to go through that forest.

The orcs are certainly too distant to reach in one day, though in theory you could reach the goblins, camp with the tribe, and go to the orcs the next day, never camping in the open. It's a toss-up, though. The fast options are dangerous and the slow options leave more time for Tremin to die.

[TelinArtho]

I am assuming that the forest-direct-route trek will also be less passable for the mounts and beasts of burden. My vote would be to hit the orcs first - but if the goblins are more-or-less on the way, then we can go there first. I want to get there quickly, but not at the expense of making it treacherous for the rest of us too...

Sir Ellethon takes another look at the map and tries to orient himself with the road they would be taking.

Any objections to following the road and traveling as swiftly as we can? We might be able to make it before dark and if so that would be a greater boon to us than risking the more dangerous sections of the forest.

[Trasilor]

Not at all, Ellethon.

Rannic turns towards the northern gate and begins walking along the path.

(Assuming others follow).

I figure, if we run into goblins, we will try and parley our way through. If those orcs are as nasty as they seem, the goblins may have issues with them too.

[Reogan]

The day passes wholly without incident, but, unfortunately, not entirely without rain. Two hours out, the sky quickly darkens and the first drops of a dreary rainstorm fall. With your vision inhibited, you can only just make out the road, and you don't glimpse the forest. Thankfully, the days are warm enough here--much warmer than home--that you can safely venture on without the risk of anything but an annoying chill.

All day, the rain keeps threatening to lighten up before returning at full strength. During this robust periods, the sky sometimes glows purple, threatening to begin casting lightning bolts, but this too never materializes. Eventually, after six hour of this, you find yourselves walking up what might be a rise in the path or a hill, and at the top conclude that you are as dry as you could hope to be outside of the forest. It is now late, and further travel would be difficult.

[Trasilor]

I guess it's time to put those tents the Lord Judge gave us to good use.

Raching into his pack, Rannic pulls out a small metal rod with one end wrapped in dark cloth. As he pulls off the cloth, a small flame is produced.

I know it's not much, but I doubt we will be lighting much of a fire with this rain. And I can't work in the dark.

Heading to mules, Rannic pulls forth a tent and begins setting up camp just of the path.

[TelinArtho]

Sir Ellethon was not pleased by the rain, but offered no comment on its presence. There was nothing he could do about it after all, they could only wait it out and trudge forward.

As the day turned darker, Ellethon agreed to setting up camp.

I'll tend to the mounts and beasts first, but then I'll help with the tents myself.

[UristMcRandom]

James maneuvers his donkeys and wagon off the path, then jumps down and starts helping Rannic pitch the tents. Once the first couple are set up, he'll climb into the back of his wagon and pull out an extra tent of his own, setting it up next to the others.

"These oughta keep us safe and dry, from the animals anyway."

[Reogan]

As you work, the rain slowly turns light as the sky grows dark in equal measure. Upon finishing your work, it still rains, but without any true force. Nonetheless, this much rain and such thick clouds mean a night without stars, a night without the moon. In the darkness, the supposedly menacing forest remains out of sight. It almost seems like there would be no utility to keeping a watch, considering how hard it is to see and how the rain drowns small sounds.

[TelinArtho]

I'll take first watch. Sir Ellethon offers to the others.

[Reogan]

As the night stretches on, the fog never dissipates, but it does shrink. Evidence of this is clear in that, though you can never see into the distance horizontally, every once in a while, you can glimpse the moonglow in the clouds above, as though a great trough in the fog has passed over you, and you are alone in a soft pit of cloud.

In this alien world, time seems to stand still. The occasional cry comes from the distant west and south, but never closer. They sound animal in nature--animal enough, anyway, that you feel no need to investigate.

The first watch passes without incident.

[Trasilor]

Rannic found himself waking for the second watch. Time spent in the military had conditioned him for this mid-night awakening. Pulling himself up, he quickly adjusts his gear, grabs his sword and heads out of his tent to relieve Sir Ellethon.

As Rannic stepped out of tent, the night air envelops him like a cool blanket. The rain, never fully stopping, had made the ground soft and slippery, he notes as he walks over to Sir Ellethon.

As he covers the distance, he focuses his mind inward - controlling his breathing and focusing his mind. He knows spotting and listening will be difficult from the fog and rain. But smells did not have such difficulties. Smells carried on the wind, could help identify a beast from an animal. It took but a moment as Rannic focused his mind to the smells around him.

As he passed the other tents, he identifies each person from the distinctive odor. A slight shift in the wind brought him the unmistakable musk of the horses and donkeys nearby.

Ellethon, get some rest, I have the next watch.

Rannic is activating his Hunter's Sense stance (swift action taken while walking over to Ellethon) which gives him the Scent Ability. Admittedly, Rannic's Spot and Listen checks are horrible, hopefully the scent ability will help mitigate this :smallbiggrin:

For your convenience:
Scent
This extraordinary ability lets a creature detect approaching enemies, sniff out hidden foes, and track by sense of smell.

A creature with the scent ability can detect opponents by sense of smell, generally within 30 feet. If the opponent is upwind, the range is 60 feet. If it is downwind, the range is 15 feet. Strong scents, such as smoke or rotting garbage, can be detected at twice the ranges noted above. Overpowering scents, such as skunk musk or troglodyte stench, can be detected at three times these ranges.

The creature detects another creature’s presence but not its specific location. Noting the direction of the scent is a move action. If it moves within 5 feet of the scent’s source, the creature can pinpoint that source.

[UristMcRandom]

After a few hours, James wakes up and climbs out of his tent. He retrieves his axe and lute from his wagon before walking to Rannic, "I'll take the next watch, you get some rest."

[Reogan]

As night begins to hint that dawn might come, a calm descends and the clouds above seem to have fully surrendered themselves to their impermanence. The fog remains, but it lays low enough that you glimpse the stars moments before they pale their ineffectual fires and wink out. The sky is just turning grey when something catches your attention out of the corner of your eye.

With amazing rolls powers of perception, you notice a group of four or five quadrupedal forms racing towards the camp from the west. Through the fog, they are indistinct, but it's clear that they're coming for you. Based on their speed, you have perhaps two minutes before they will be upon you.