[IC] A Stolen Land

[Valdi]

Valdi stands, wrapping his heavy cloak around his shoulders, hefts his huge crescent axe adn walks to the door, there he stands, half in and half outside the doorway waiting for his brother to hurry up so they can join the others outside.

[DM Dougfan]

The barmaid either doesn't notice, or is used to Vidar's obvious ogling.  She merely winks sassily and collects payment and her tips from the table, washing it down before moving on to the next one.

---

As you all gather outside, pulling out your scrolls of Mount, they seem to be written in a very simple version of Common designed so anyone could read them, even Vidar (()).  The mounts, once summoned, are fairly ordinary-looking, but those of you with magical inclinations know that they will not last very long.  So off you go.

Traveling through the countryside feels like freedom, the air steadily gets...healthier and healthier the further from the city you get.  Brick and mortar steadily turn to gravel and rock, then to dirt and grass.  Before long, as you travel along the Southern Rostland Road, you spy a wooden structure in the distance, spurring you on.  The closer you get, the larger it gets in your view...well, up to a point.  This appears to be a trading post of some kind, possibly the one mentioned in the summons each of you received.  As you pull closer, you begin to notice that things are not as they should be.  The gate, such as it it, is shut upon your arrival and the air seems filled with...fear.  The palisade is broken in several places.  Only one of the towers seems fully constructed and everything in general just seems to be in a state of disrepair.

Oleg's Trading Post

State of the Post

[Nexendia]

Scarf had been circling above the group, keeping an eye on things from sky [Stealth +11; Perception +6].  But when his mistress arrives at the Trading post and pulls her steed to a stop, he swoops down and lands upon her shoulder to wait for instruction.  

Both Nexendia and Scarf carefully study the Trading post and the area around it for anything suspicious and to determine if the damage was caused by anything arcane. [Me/Scarf: Perception +3/+6; Know Arcane Me/Scarf +9/+2 ]  They both also try to remember any local history about this Trading post and area. [Me/Scarf: Know Local +9/+2]  


[OoC: Knowledge: Local, includes (legends, personalities, inhabitants, laws, customs, traditions, humanoids)

[Vidar the Red]

At the sight of the quiet trading post Vidar sends a signal to his brother with only a look, "prepare for trouble."  Vidar dismounts his summoned horse and draws his axe and shield.  "I will knock." He tells the group then approaches the gate to do just that.

[Valdi]

"Hold brother, let us simply hail the fort, 'ere we approach. Uncle would skin me if I return with your arrow riddles corpse."


Valdi dismounts and moves in front of the rest of the group (except Vidar who is already headed forward), still holding his steed's reins in his left hand as he holds his bardiche in his right.

He then does exactly what he suggested, bellowing loudly.

"Hail the fort! We come at the behest of the Swordlords of Restov! We do not come intending harm!"

[Andra Petrescu]

Immediately suspicious, Andra does not dismount. Instead, she pulls her bow off her shoulder and nocks an arrows, waiting to draw the string. Her eyes scan the trading post, taking in as much as she can, without dismounting for an in-depth investigation.

Perception [1d20+5] = 14+5 = 19

[DM Dougfan]

No bandits or creatures or danger of any sort threatens you as you make your way south along the South Rostland Road.  Everything is peaceful up until you reach the fort and begin feeling suspicious somehow.  Every look you give it tells you that it is no more threatening than a pile of lumber and rocks.  Scarf, assisted by Andra, can tell that the damage to the trading post is predominantly of an entropic variety.  Lack of proper maintenance has resulted in rotted wood and crumbling stone.  Nexendia ((because I've been rolling so well for her ))  is able to eliminate magical means as a potential cause.  She also vaguely recognizes the name 'Oleg' from a tale of a former Restovian guardsman who petitioned and was granted clearance to turn an old border fort into a trading outpost.

After Vidar's knocking nearly smashes the gate down, Valdi's voice threatens to finish the job before another male voice calls out in response "We hear you, already!  The whole bloody wilderness just did!"

The gates slowly open...with difficulty, revealing a middle-aged man with weathered features.  He stands aside to allow you to enter, looking uncomfortable as he does so.  Apparently, being forced to take you at your word is not something he appreciates, but there are five of you, you used some sort of magic word or words, and what choice does he honestly have?



"So...you've come from Restov, have you?  What did you do to the Swordlords that they sent you way out here into the boonies?"

At that very moment, a thirty-something-old woman with straw-blonde hair comes out of a building at the northern end of the Trading Post, carrying a large pot of something heated and delicious-smelling.



"Oleg, sweetie, we have visitors.  Let them in already, they must be tired!  Why don't you make yourself useful and help me bring out the food?"

"Yes, dear..."

[Andra Petrescu]

Putting her bow back over her shoulder once she sees that it is merely time and not something more nefarious that caused the fall of this post, Andra dismounts and follows the others inside. She lets out a humorless laugh at the man's question. "We've been sent to bring civilization to the Greenbelt, such as we can. I am Andra, of house Medvyed." She lets the others introduce themselves as they wish.

[Vidar the Red]

Vidar shoves his axe back into his belt but keeps a wary eye out for signs of trouble and leaves the talking and niceties for others. He waits by the gate til his companions catch up before entering.

[Eran]

Eran also dismounts. He offers his hand to Nex and follows her inside.
- Eran servant of Restov. - nods to the hosts.