A new day for The Outriders (dnd ttrpg PM Siobhan before joining to see if she can handle another)

[siobhancan99]

Our tale begins, as so many do, at the end of another.

As Ingrid's gentle mare made its way up the dirt road towards its final destination, she reflected on the end of what had been and the last chapter of Vartan's Outriders.

A scant six months before, they'd been part of the siege of Pekagrad. King Gustav swelled his army with mercenary companies in an attempt to swiftly dislodge the Iron Duke, Piotr Czernogoz, from the walled city before it could be reinforced by King Stanislaus. The entire campaign had been a fool's errand. Czernogoz had burned the suburbs of Pekagrad and sent the women and children back to his fortress. That left only the walled old city, built in the oxbow of the river and nearly unassailable. The men of Pekagrad had to fear not only the invader, but the Duke. If they betrayed him and threw open the gates, their loved ones would pay the price in slavery or death. The Outriders had been employed to scout the land, search for guerilla forces and find resources. In Gustav's increasing desperation they'd been thrown at the walls along with the other mercenaries. 100 men became 20 in the blink of an eye. 20 became 10 shortly after.

When Stanislaus arrived and put an end to the invasion, the company had been conscripted to bury the dead, digging mass graves and throwing the bodies of their fellow mercenaries and the knights of King Gustav into pits, stripping them of valuables for the coffers of the enemy king. At least Stanislaus had recognized the compact. The mercenaries who lived were permitted to leave the field with their war-chests and their equipment. Michael Vartan had promised them all a new life in the south. He'd regaled them with the beauty of his coffee plantation in the lands of the Eternal Sultanate. There they would rebuild, in the salubrious climate of the south. There, he had promised, the Beys schemed against each other for position and power. A man with a sword could go far, and in those sunny lands a rich man could have as many wives as he could support. That was the land of opportunity. And so they'd made their way south, taking on jobs here and there as the war-chest "was needed for a few small repairs at the plantation."

But now Vartan himself was dead, the old man's heart having given out on the road. He died doing what he loved at least, balls deep in the asshole of a beautiful young man he'd convinced to surrender his virginity. She wasn't sure whether he'd plied him with coins or a promise of life as a mercenary. They'd found the poor thing trapped under Vartan's massive body, in the stable loft behind the hay, traumatized and sodomized.


As the horse cleared the ridge, she looked down at the town below. The strange exotic architecture of the sultanate doing more to remind her she was far from home than the hot sun. She and her cousin, Greta, had joined the outriders in the frozen north. At the time, she'd been a devotee of Gudrun of the Spear. A violent woman, grim and dedicated to war and its glories. A priestess of the chooser of the slain who would spend their afterlife slaughtering giants and feasting in the halls of the gods of the north. After Pekagrad she'd renounced her faith and cast aside her weapons. She would kill no more men. She would no longer revel in battle. She had the luxury of that, however. Vartan's will had left the plantation to the last remaining officers of the Outriders. She turned her head, looking them each over in turn. Checking for the 100th time to see if they were still there.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Trilan kicked his heels, desperately trying to spur the borrowed pony forward. If Ingrid was looking back to see if everyone was accounted for, she might not even be able to see the small gnome. He could still see the back of their motley caravan, at least he could when he crested one of the small hills the road wound over, but he couldn’t see her at the front of it. Among all the casualties of the war, his uniquely-engineered saddle would be missed by no one but him, especially since the horse it was attached to had survived. Of course he couldn’t ride the creature now without that contraption of gears and tubes compensating for his short, gnomish legs.

So it was that Trilan Sparklestone, Wizard of the Vartan Outriders, was left continuously falling behind on a pony “borrowed” from a ruined farm. His hands ran through the streak of blue in his upswept, dark brown hair, the result of a magical accident years ago. He kicked again, in danger of turning the simple beast against him. The beast did speed up a bit, though, Trilan falling behind more slowly than he had been, his simple brown cloak billowing softly behind him. He was looking forward to getting out of these dusty clothes and into his proper robes, something more befitting a mentee of the great Danira Stoute of the Obsidian Spire. Heh. Lofty company indeed. And now Trilan rode away with the rest of the dregs of a ruined company. Some prodigy he turned out to be.

 

[Wordforgedsoul]

“It weighs on you, the dead.” Vernaro, Tamrick’s mentor at the chapel, had said once during one of his many lectures on the lot of the monastic. Tamrick had not understood the meaning of those words until he had been forced to dig a mass grave for over a hundred souls of his order, of the enemy, of simple folk who had been caught in the carnage and crossfire of that ill-fated invasion.

No one had asked Tamrick about his deity and god. No one tried to sift through the bodies of the fallen to check what gods they had devoted themselves to. Tamrick was a cleric of an order, that was apparently good enough and it was his duty to oversee the ‘burial’ of the dead.

The young half-elf, still so newly drawn away from his temple, had suffered more in putting the dead of that cursed fight to rest than he had during the entirety of the campaign.

One by one, broken and lifeless bodies were brought before him, dumped at his feet without ceremony. Without knowing the names of the fallen or their wishes for the afterlife, Tamrick did the best he could to say some words of benediction for each soul. As soon as he was done with his prayers, no matter how eloquent he made them, the result was always the same. A rough kick from a soldier’s boot would send the body falling into the pit, piling atop the others.

“Bleeding ‘ell, are you going to drone on like that for every whore’s son we’ve got to throw in that ‘ole?” Tamrick grimaced to remember those words spat at him. “Speed up your prayers, priest… Ain’t like the gods cared enough to spare these sods their lives in the first place.”

Tamrick had worked to ignore the grumblings and curses of the others as he endeavored to give honor to the fallen. But even with the greatest will in the world, he could only do so much. After making impassioned prayers for almost thirty people in succession, his voice became hoarse from the effort. Tamrick settled for mumbling the briefest of benedictions for each new corpse, feeling his own soul diminishing as he watched their bodies being thrown unceremoniously into the pit.

What good had his words been?

Where were the gods?

Where was HIS god?

Those questions had dogged the half-elf throughout his journey from the north. He had said little during the ride to the Eternal Sultanate. While some mourned their lost lives in the North and others relished the opportunities that awaited them in the South, Tamrick felt like he was spending his journey wrestling with the fundamental rules of the universe.

Everything he knew, or thought he knew about the world was gone. Dead. As dead as the bodies that filled that pit. Before that day, Tamrick considered himself an idealistic and passionate member of his order, honored to be seconded from his temple to fight with the Outriders and to give them spiritual succor in their battles.

When Vartan died on the road, Tamrick felt like the gods were toying with him. When asked to lay a benediction on the man who had died naked atop a frightened stablehand, the cleric felt like the last of his faith had deserted him, trodden down by all he had seen. He pantomimed the benedictions for the fallen, but it was obvious to all who listened that the burning fire of faith that had once resided in his heart was now nothing but embers, ready to be extinguished by whatever bad luck would befall him next.

Clearing the rise, Vartan glanced at the gnome riding alongside him. He seemed to be having difficulty managing his steed but Vartan didn’t try to intercede or help. He wouldn’t have known how considering the strange aparatus that allowed the gnome to ride. Instead, he pushed his own horse to trot around, wanting to give the gnome the space he needed.

Tamrick’s chest swelled as he took in the fragrant warmth of the south. It felt, different. It was almost pleasing – an aromatic and spiced flavor on the dry, windless air. But Tamrick determined not to enjoy it.

He ran a hand through his mop of long, black curls that helped mask his slightly elongated ears. He then proceeded to rake his fingers through the coarse fibers of his short beard, running a line along his angular jaw. The temperate climes of this new land were not favorable for keeping a beard or his unkempt, long hair. The heat had Tamrick feeling like he was being cooked alive beneath his chain mail.

“Gods…” Tamrick breathed under his breath, no longer caring to pray to his old deity but reaching out to any who might listen. “If you have not completely given up on me… If my life is worth anything more than a joke to you now, I beg you… a breeze.”

It might have been a coincidence. Tamrick could not say if some deity truly was looking down and listening to his plea at that moment, but a cooling wind suddenly tussled his hair as he crested the next rise. Was some deity of this foreign southern land greeting him? Was there some being in the great beyond who still cared about him and wanted to give him hope?

Tamrick could not be certain, but he grasped onto the possibility. He needed some sign, any sign that things might improve, that someone was watching over him and the world with benevolence.

For the first time in weeks, Tamrick smiled. He looked to the gnome on his left and rode in a little closer, feeling a need to be of service once more. “You doing okay wrangling your steed there? Need any help guiding it to heel?”

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Trilan looked up at the friendly half-elf. Tammick? Tarrick? Something like that. Trilan wasn't routinely close to danger, and hadn't needed the cleric's services before, though he recognized the man. He wasn't sure what the man could do now, either. Haste was a wizard's spell, but Trilan himself hadn't learned it. And without something to speed up this pony's legs he didn't know what could be done.

"I thank you for the offer, good sir. She's an agreeable enough beast, but I fear her diminutive frame is the source my current troubles."

It was true, too. Despite Trilan's straining and flailing, the pony was obedient. It was just slow. He almost asked to ride with him. It might be the only way Trilan could avoid either delaying the whole trip, or being left behind. No. He wouldn't ask to ride behind the cleric like a child. That was too much of an indignity. At least, so far. If he got desperate he might consider it. Besides, if he was going to sit behind another rider, hands gripping their hips, he would prefer it be an attractive woman.

Perhaps someday I shall advance so far in my knowledge of the arcane to cast Misty Step with the ease of a cantrip, flitting forward a blink at a time to keep pace with these longshanks. Although even that might not match their speed on horseback...

Trilan's mind began whirring with possibilities and calculations, trying in vain to come up with an intricate solution to the simple problem of his short legs. He was so engrossed he forgot to say anything else to the cleric.

 

[Wordforgedsoul]

Tamrick nodded as the gnome explained the trouble he was having. It was not the pony's fault it was struggling to keep up with full grown warhorses. Tamrick felt more than a little sympathy for the creature and his rider. There was not much he could do to help spur the pony faster, however. Roasting as he was in his heavy mail, he more than understood why the creature would be struggling to keep pace in the heat of this land.

“Perhaps, instead of looking to keep up with the wagon train, we can linger in the back awhile, let your pony recoup its strength? This breeze is the first I have felt in hours, and I am in a mood to take a gentler pace and enjoy it.”

Tamrick eased up the reins on his own steed, slowing down and falling back. If the gnome couldn't persuade his pony to keep up with the others, maybe he could take comfort in knowing at least one of the company would ride at his clip and pace in the back.

“It's Trillan, right? A strange land this,” It was stating the obvious, but after days of following the trail and his companions in sullen silence, Tamrick was ready to make conversation, however banal and simple. He wanted to know that he still remembered how. “I have overheard a good few in our sorry company speaking of the Eternal Sultanate as a dream-wrought paradise of warmth and delight we should never wish to leave. Others seem to be pining for the North and the lives we left behind. Which do you fall under? Did you have many ties you surrendered when we began our march to these foreign lands?”

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Trilan nodded, and slowed, his hand reaching down to stroke the friendly beast on the neck. “Aye, that’s a fine idea, kind cleric.”

He could almost sense the relief from the pony at their more leisurely pace, and took a moment to sigh on his own as he considered the cleric’s question. “I had precious few attachments in the north, myself, sir, traveling through as I was when I joined our fair company. My home is west of here, by many weeks of travel, and the attachments I left there were meant to be left.”

He took a breath, enjoying the cool breeze. It had been several years since he’d been sent to find the answer to a simple question his mentor had posed, and he was no closer than he’d been back then. “I suppose you could say it’s a pilgrimage of sorts, and I look forward to the day I return, but the time to do so has not yet come.”

He gave the man a friendly smile, thankful for the company. “What about yourself?” He scanned the man’s attire, searching for some holy symbol identifying his deity. “Does your god have many followers to the south? Temples, and such?”

 

[siobhancan99]

Ingrid slowed her horse, letting a few of the remaining men of the company pass by. The two at the back had caught her interest. She'd hardly interacted with them when the company was full. Her squad had been for heavily armed urban combat operations. Door kickers and the like. The Outriders had always been more a motley collection of small squads suited for particular purposes than a unified company. Since they'd headed south, she'd done her best at first to avoid contact with the others, lest someone question why a renounced cleric was getting her share. Now though, she had Vartan's will. She had something else too. Of the remaining company, less than half were fully human. While the Sultanate was chauvinistic, it was also slightly racist. The various officials and village elders and such that they'd have to deal with as landowners would prefer to deal with a human. If she could make some inroads with the non-human officers remaining, she could secure her usefulness to the company in ways that had nothing to do with fighting.

"Trilan, Tamrick" She nodded to them both. "Trlian, I couldn't help but hear you're from west of here. Krakydos? one of the city-states that surrounds the shallow sea? I admit my knowledge of southern geography largely comes from the tall tales of raiders and mercenaries who survive long enough to come back north." She shifted in her saddle "is it always so beastly hot?" Even clad in just a simple white tunic, and bereft of armor she felt the sun. It wasn't terrible, like a summer day at home but it was not yet summer. She had to admit as well that not moving about in armor and practicing with weapons some of her muscle had gone to fat. Just enough to make her lose that hard edge she'd always had, going from lean to the point of gaunt to pleasantly toned, verging on a little round. Still, she felt the change and she had to assume some of her discomfort at the weather "Have either of you traveled here much?"

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Trilan nodded proudly. “Why, yes! I studied at the Obisidian Spire in Krakydos’s Clifftop district.” He loved his home, and sharing tales about it was the closest thing to being there that he could get at the moment.

“It’s not too hot at all, actually. The weather is nearly ideal on the coast. Light, cool breezes amid heat just warm enough to enjoy them.” He frowned at the landscape they were currently in, nothing like his temperate home. “It is rather beastly here eastward, though, isn’t it?” It must be even harder on the longshanks with their greater mass. Trilan reached into his pack to pull out a pair of scarves and his canteen. “Perhaps this will help,” he said after he poured water over the scarves and cast Ray of Frost to freeze them solid in a horseshoe shape. He handed them up to Ingrid and Tamrick. “Try laying these across the back of your neck.”

 

[Wordforgedsoul]

Tamrick found himself grateful for the interruption in his conversation with Trilan. Trilan could not have known it, but his innocuous question about his deity had hit a nerve. Tamrick was struggling to know how to answer when Ingrid trotted alongside them and drew their attention.

The truth was, Tamrick had no idea if there were chapels or temples devoted to Sinvarlo this far south. He hadn’t thought much about it. In the days they had been marching together, thoughts of rejoining the order had been far from his mind and Trilan’s question felt almost like an unknowing taunt. It was like he could feel the hand of his order reaching out to reclaim him, wanting to know just where he had been and condemn their lost sheep for falling astray in his thoughts.

The cleric listened to Trilan speak of his life and studies, fascinated to hear of the gnome’s life, though few of the words truly meant much to him. Krakydos, the Obsidian Spire… these places, grand-sounding though they were, were just words to Tamrick.

The half-elf was just considering how to answer Ingrid’s question on previous travels, a little embarrassed by what his own answer would be, when Trilan fashioned for them the most ingenious cooling wraps for their necks.

Baking under his armor, Tamrick gave an actual groan of delight as he accepted the horseshoe of cloth and rested it against his neck.

“Powers that be… Oh, that feels good.” He sighed, looking at Ingrid in her simple white tunic and envying her choice of clothing. He really should have considered ditching his own chain mail in favor of his clerical vestments. But he had been finding any excuse not to wear the trappings of his order during this march. Donning his armor each day was the best excuse there was for that.

“Thank you Trilan. I fear you’ll find me begging you for more of these over the coming days.”

Tamrick rode on quietly with his companions, uncertain if Ingrid expected him to answer her question on prior travels. Though he could not hope to match any story Trilan might have for her, he did not want to appear aloof or disinterested. Talking sincerely with these two felt like a comforting balm after his days of brooding silence and reflection.

“Till I was seconded to the Outriders I had not traveled much beyond the walls of my temple,” the man confessed. “My parents presented me to the temple of Sinvarlo at birth.”

That should have been enough in and of itself to give Ingrid and Trilan an idea of where he was coming from. Half-human, half-elven ancestry, given to a monastery at birth. It didn’t take a genius to realize that Tamrick was an unwanted child.

“Till the elders of the monastery decreed I should pilgrimage for the order and spread the word among the Outriders, I had barely set foot beyond the cloister walls.” Tamrick glanced about at the view and vistas around them and gave a wry chuckle. “Somehow, I don’t think my deity gave the elders a sound vision when they sent me out into the world. Their jaws would no doubt drop to know how far from their imagined path I have roamed in coming out here.”

Tamrick could have mentioned that the elders probably didn’t care much where he was or what he was doing, that his ‘pilgrimage’ was just a fancy word the order used to get rid of their orphans when they had grown past a certain age and shown no great spark for elevation to the higher priesthood. Despite his own dour feelings, he did not want to be a downer to the others.

“In this place, I think you could make a killing selling those frost scarves on the streets,” Tamrick said, eager to push the conversation along. “Have either of you thought what you will do here now we are finally nearing the end of the trail?”

 

[Wayne_Wilder82]

Tiyak listened close at the ground, and then soundlessly rising to his feet he looked back over the landscape. He could see the caravan approaching in the distance. He knelt near an abandoned campfire. The ash was thick and cold, but the soils beneath was still warm to the touch. “Could be bandits, could be nothing” he said to himself. “Still, I should let them know… that’s what they’re paying me for right?” He slung his bow over his shoulder and remounted the borrowed horse. His Draft and cart he had left with the caravan before scouting ahead. He jerked the reins. He clicked his tongue and gave the mount a squeeze with his powerful legs. He pointed the creatures head to the Caravan. Upon arriving he announced his observations, warning the others to “stay vigilant. There may be trouble ahead.”

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Trilan pursed his lips. He didn’t know anything about Sinvarlo. “I’m not quite ready to cease my wandering and open up a frost-scarf shop, but I’ll keep that in mind for the future.” Tiyak’s warning hadn’t filtered back far enough to reach them yet, so Trilan kept up the conversation. “I’m open to what our fair Ingrid may have in mind, Vartan’s charge and all that, but I most likely won’t want to stay in one place too long.” He looked off into the distance, or at least as far as he could from the top of such a small pony. “There’s more for me to learn about the arcane, and I don’t think the questions I have will have answers in any one library. They may not be found in books at all.”

He was beginning to notice some extra tension, or vigilance, in the front of the caravan. “Perhaps you could establish a, er, a….a temple to Sinvarlo…if there’s not yet one to be found. If you’re so inclined.”

 

[siobhancan99]

As the group made its way down to the town, one of the scouts came back to report potential trouble, changing the course of the conversation again at least for a moment. Ingrid gestured at the town that was visible "this close to town I doubt it." pointing at the minarets of the local government building "but. If something or someone hit the town with enough force...We should probably be careful." Tiyak looked formidable, and a good ally to have if it came to it. He was probably being overly cautious, but with the recent history of the company maybe over-cautious should be their permanent state. "Keep your eyes peeled." She thought for a moment, then decided this might dovetail nicely with the things they had to do on arrival "I have the will, and we need to record it as soon as possible with the magistrate so we can take legal ownership of the land. Maybe the four of us should head into town. Maybe grab one of the others. The other five can follow at a discreet distance. If we trigger some trouble, then they will be on our heels and we can surprise whoever is up there with our numbers. If there's no trouble to be had, then we aren't a dozen armed people riding into a peaceful town all at once. It works out for everyone."

Since Vartan's death, there'd been a general lack of organization in the company and now seemed to be the perfect time to seize the reins in a way that cemented her right to be part of things without fighting. "Trilan, Tiyak, Tamrick. the three T's are with me. everyone else, move back." She spotted a few of the stealthier folks as well, milling about "the two of you, follow us at a distance. then you three" gesturing at the remaining soldiers "you're behind them. give them a 2 minute lead."

Returning to Tamrick's question, she further capitalized on the moment "Honestly, my thought was to run the plantation while you all put the company back together. I'm done fighting." She let out a breath, feeling an almost surge of happiness as she said it aloud "Its strange, that you were left to the mercy of the gods and fell into service. In the north, we desperately chase the attention of our gods. We fight each other, outsiders, orcs, giants. We fight and we fight and we fight, and what we earn for all that fighting is we get to fight in the afterlife. We get to serve the gods as choosers of the slain or Einherjar. We are like children, tugging at the coats of our parents and begging to be seen" She laughed "My plan is to not be seen any more. To make things grow and provide a place for weary warriors like you all to... just be. for a moment. Maybe its a stupid dream."

 

[Btq97]

Trailing even further behind , slumped in the saddle , swaying in time with the horse, wine skin in hand , hood pulled up, watching to see who moved to follow the various groups , a couple of roughs had followed after the main group. They were good, mingling with the crowds and the shadows.
A lazy wave to the gate guards.
Each group had picked up some tails as they moved into the town.

 

[Wordforgedsoul]

Tamrick focused up as the warning of potential trouble made all in the company nervous. Ingrid's firm grasp of their surroundings and the potential for trouble gave the cleric a measure of calm, but not enough to relax his muscles which were now tensed and twitching to grab mace and shield. He couldn't help it, not after all they had already suffered as a company.

Following Ingrid's orders without question, the half elf moved alongside her with his companions, glancing to the walls of the town ahead. He was no tracker and couldn't tell if the scouts warning of trouble was enough to warrant fear or not. Either way, Ingrid hoped not to attract attention to the company. It was why she had split their force in two. With this in mind, Tamrick decided to continue the conversation, to give the semblance of easy calm to the town guards watching from the ramparts ahead.

"Settling down to manage the plantation sounds like a worthy dream to me. The world needs more spaces for warriors to rest and enjoy convalescence and comfort from the trials pitted against them. It is... so easy to let all that we suffer and fight through leave us jaded... bitter..." Tamrick trailed off, trying not to let on that he was talking from his own experience now. He took a deep breath, chest swelling beneath his chain shirt as he sighed. "I think it is a very good dream, Ingrid."

With that said, the half elf continued to look left to right, uncertain what he was looking for if anything. At least he was armored up if the scouts warning of potential trouble was genuine.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Trilan rested his hand reassuringly on Ingrid's shoulder. Well, he would have, but he was a gnome riding a pony, so he rested his hand reassuringly on Ingrid's ankle. "No dream that helps people is stupid."

He lifted his hand and strained to see what was happening at the front of the caravan. His hands dropped the reins, ready to cast should the need arise. "What's happening?"

 

[siobhancan99]

The trouble, as it turned out, was not genuine. The banked and hidden fire was not, fortunately, bandits. This made sense, being that the heavily armed party was within spitting distance of a town, so neither prime bandit country nor prime bandit target. The mystery of the banked fire would for now remain a mystery though it did seem perhaps important to something else that might potentially possibly occur once the party was settled into the reasonably safe town. it was an excellent catch, but the party arrived outside the gleaming white building that served as the base for the local constabulary, and the civil and criminal magistrate Hakan.

Ingrid and the three T's (Trilan, Tamrick and Tiyak) , followed by Nuada, filed the necessary paperwork. They could hear angry conversation in the office of the magistrate or "Yargic" in the local tongue, but the thick doors kept the nature of the conversation somewhat private. Some time later, a few men dressed in the livery of the local constabulary ran out into the street. "Come back tomorrow" the magistrate bellowed, but the small officious man who took their paperwork held up a hand and had a hushed conversation in the local tongue. The magistrate inhaled, then gestured for the party to follow him. He sat, offering a plate of pistachios, dates and figs and offered some mint tea "Forgive my earlier rudeness. Sir Vartan was a loved and respected man." He turned towards them, leaning in. he steepled his fingers and regarded them a moment "I am genuinely sorry to hear of his passing. I will of course draw up the necessary documents to transfer the property into your names. There is of course... a wrinkle. There was a boy that he was supporting here in town. The mother claims the boy is his bastard. I think we all know that he did not have" he paused "tastes that ran in the direction of getting bastards on a woman. However, I cannot use that as the basis for my decision that the boy does not own the plantation. You see, there are unsavory rumors about powerful men who would not like it to be a matter of record that Vartan was what he was. So you see I am in a bit of a spot." He trailed off a moment "but. If we could all agree that the decision was based in some garden variety corruption. Well. All parties might be satisfied in public, and I can deal with the woman and the boy on my own terms. In short, if you are willing to do a small favor for me I am willing to do a large favor for the lot of you."

He looked around, uncomfortable as he had 4 nonhumans and a woman to deal with. He clearly did not know who should be in charge. "it is a matter of some delicacy so I will leave you to discuss for a moment if as a general proposition, you are amenable to such a thing."

Standing, he made his exit, shutting the heavy doors behind him.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Trilan’s eyes flicked between the magistrate and Ingrid. She’d done a quality job picking up where Vartan left off, managing their trip south. But, the gnome could sense the magistrate’s distaste for the lot of them, women and nonhumans all, especially around the question of leadership, and he could see by the look on her face she could pick up on it, too.

He wanted to help, and he knew that any infighting amongst the former Outriders would cripple their case. Plus, it wasn’t like Trilan had any interest in managing an estate himself. He couldn’t change the southerners’ minds, but maybe he could help keep the seeds of jealousy from taking root among their number.

“What do you think, Boss?” he asked, looking pointedly at Ingrid and speaking loudly and clearly. “Are we doing the man a favor?”

 

[Wordforgedsoul]

Tamrick felt unsettled under the gaze of the local magistrate. He worked hard to ensure his long dark curls hid his pointed ears, but it seemed the man had clocked his heritage. It was a particularly sore spot for Tamrick. While he did not know with any certainty why his parents had given him up at birth to Sinvarlo’s temple, the suspicion had always been that it had much to do with his being a child of two worlds. Feeling the magistrate's judgemental eye falling over not only himself but also the others made him uneasy and he spent the meeting sipping his minted tea in silence.

When their host finally left the room, Tamrick pushed in closer to Ingrid with the rest of the group.

“Well, that man seemed to exemplify an almost professional level of unpleasantness. Don’t get me wrong, I am glad he is helping us claim what was owed to the company by Sir Vartan’s passing. Still, this whole matter of succession seems as murky as the Tewerton Mires to me. For all we know of Sir Vartan’s tastes we surely can’t rule out the possibility this woman and her child might have a legitimate claim? A drunken night, or perhaps a wish to hide who he was from neighbors, sheer curiosity... There are many possible ways such a child could have been conceived. I don’t know how the rest of you feel, but I don’t feel exactly ‘excited’ to be making deals here, especially when the magistrate never told us this ‘small favor’ he wants from us up front.”

Tamrick chewed the corner of his lip, clearly uneasy. Perhaps it was because he was an unwanted child, but something had him feeling for this ‘bastard child’ held in the squall of this inheritance row. The idea of simply dismissing the boy’s rights or working with the magistrate to muscle the lad and his mother out of the plantation felt wrong at least until they knew more about the pair.

The cleric looked to the company around him, hoping at least a few of the others would share his concern. When their promised plantation was on the line, it was possible they would not.

 

[Btq97]

Nuada glanced at the door, "We need more information on the mother and child, if this is a put up job then perhaps the gossip mongers could point us in the right direction. For all we know this unpleasant individual is playing both sides - we fail in the task and child inherits and the mother meets with a tragic accident - or we succeed in the task and then we meet with a tragic accident. So better he has a tragic accident rather than us"

 

[Wayne_Wilder82]

“Is there any means of testing the child? To see if he is indeed the heir? We could carry out this test ourself in secret, before deciding our next course of action. Either way, I say we agree to this magistrate’s terms. Either he is on the up and up and we can either choose to fulfil our part of the bargain, or strike a new deal with the young heir, or he is playing us…in which case we kill him and take what is ours.” Tiyak resumed his silence again.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Trilan blinked, a bit chagrined that he hadn't thought about the implications of the magistrate's offer. "That's...that's a good point, Tamrick." He nodded to the other men, and looked at Ingrid. "I'm not afraid of killing, either, if the pompous ass needs it. Gods know we've all killed enough recently. My two coppers say I'd rather not be a party to an injustice. One way or another."

 

[siobhancan99]

Ingrid considered a moment "Uh, Vartan was. Aggressively not interested in women. We could have a look at the boy and see. I find it almost impossible to fathom him being a father though. Also it is unlike him to have written the boy out of his will if he was legitimate. Vartan was a good man. Generous, kind. Still. Doesn't kill us to check out the competition. nor do we have to not provide for the boy and his mother even if we take the plantation, right? We could give them a place to live, maybe pay for the boy to learn a trade. That sort of thing. I think I'm out of the business of murdering children though. For my own part." She still seemed to consider it. "Tamrick. Why don't you speak for us. You're probably the least offensive to his particular sensibilities. The magistrate I mean. Honestly, We could buy ourselves time taking on the task and we could set the others on figuring out the nature of the boy's relationship to Vartan if it came to it. Still, unless he has some hasty reason for us to be taking up this favor I think we probably can take a day."

 

[Wordforgedsoul]

Tamrick stroked his beard nodding thoughtfully as he listened to Ingrid. “I honestly did not know Vartan that well, so will take you at your word on how likely or unlikely the child’s claims are. It certainly won’t hurt us to hear the favor the Magistrate has in mind for us to perform and hopefully, it will be something we can waylay until we have had a little more time to settle and learn the lay of the land here. As to speaking on behalf of the group, I do not mind stepping up to that if you think it will help, though I wish the Magistrate’s sensibilities weren’t so tied to the superficial. I’ll do what I can though when he returns and try my best with him. Goodness knows we don’t need to be making any enemies if we can help it on our first day here."

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Trilan nods along.

 

[siobhancan99]

Ingrid shifted "I wouldn't say its superficial Tamrick. People want to deal with their own. The sultanate is a human kingdom. All its officials are human. We are people without status. We are foreigners, nonhuman for the most part and female for the second. That means that we are not, in the context of this society, the man's peers. Understanding where he's coming from is going to be key to convincing him to do what we want. We can't meet the man halfway if we're just going to look down on him. He's a man of his time and place. Elves get to see in the dark. Human men get social and political power. I'm not sure what the gods gave human women yet but I'll let you know if I figure it out" She laughed softly and put her hand on the half elf's. She noted the quiet nature of the other two "I'll go get the magistrate. I think if I am seen as the errand girl for you, it will come more naturally for him to negotiate with you."

Getting up she slipped out, returning a few minutes later with the magistrate "Master Tamrick. your woman informs me that you are going to negotiate with me for the group" He seemed more at ease, having had a hierarchy established for himself "So what are your thoughts on the matter?"