"Oh, no, I didn't pay for them. Valoria asked me to organise the rings and gave me the money to buy them with before we went south to take the two forts. I just organised it through Oleg. I have not yet arranged a wedding gift as I was more concerned about doing the ceremony justice out here on the frontier. Now that we are all going to Restov there will be much more opportunity to find something appropriate for your future together."

When Cyrus pointed out the scantily clad women in the fort Andalon blushed and shook his head.

"Selecting gifts is not the only thing that can wait until we reach Restov!"

Cyrus smiled, "Better even, though I do think I will stand by my gift unless you truly despise riding."

He laughed at the man's reaction to his nudge, "Indeed, perhaps patience truly is a virtue. Speaking of gifts though, I owe Sir Ferdinand a debt of gratitude that truly can't be calculated. If you'll both excuse me," he nods in deference to both of the Lebeda's he's addressing, "I do think I will go speak to him now and re-iterate my thanks."

He rose and walked over to where Sir Ferdinand was and said to the man, "I owe you a debt of gratitude the likes of which I doubt I'll be able to repay. Your generosity is astounding Sir Ferdinand. Roughheart is quite a steed and the training I received from your daughter was excellent. I am glad you are traveling with us to Restov, perhaps along the way we can discuss the Order of the Dragon a bit more. I would love to hear tales of your own days out in the wild."

Adoven strides up, a swagger in his step that wasn't evident before. A lute hanging around his neck is testimony to some changes in his life. "We had a bit of an adventure clearing out river pirates and freeing a village. You can see some of the women kept as virtual slaves there walking around. A better life for them here, I'd say. But the biggest surprise was that I actually have a talent for music....it's almost magical. But those stories can wait. I need to hear what you've  been doing. I need material for my new repetoire. Might have to throw in some fun though. You've already got the 'pensive' and 'brooding' down pat."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:09, Sat 02 Sept 2017.

"Indeed." Henry says somewhat surprised.  Then he offers his arm to Bai, "Shall we, my dear?  I think a more detailed report of the activities here is in order."

Then with a smile he leads Bai off to wards his tower, calling over his shoulder  "I'll leave you all to your reminiscences for the moment."

"So, Adoven, are you the mysterious bard who has been singing our praises in Restov?" Andalon asks Adoven. "Or is it you or someone else that has passed on news of our successes to that mystery man? Either way it sounds like Henry has been well served by those songs. No doubt the new arrivals in the camp ourtide the gates here are thanks to those songs. Join us around the campfire tonight and we will happily share our tale with you."

Sir Ferdinand smiles across at Cyrus, and waves away any concept of debt.

”It gave my daughter a taste of the wider world, with someone whom I trusted to look after her.  And it also gave her chance to practice her training skills on someone who wouldn’t kowtow to her the moment they knew who she was.  And Roughheart was in need of a brave and upstanding rider.  It was a good deal all the way around.

As for the order of the Dragon, I would be delighted to tell you more.  Perhaps one day I might even convince you to join our elite band.  However, that will have to wait until we are on the ride back to Restov, for I suspect we should both attend to our women folks at the moment.  It looks like your fiancé has suffered in the field, and I should spend some time with my daughter.”

However, his gaze slides across to the Outpost’s wall, where Big Job lounges in the company of two of the scantily clad women from Drowned Trees.

Cyrus smiled and said, "I think I ended up with the better end of that deal, still. I owe you many thanks and would be more than glad to hear more about your order on the journey back to Restov."

He caught the man's gaze and wondered if it was one of disapproval or of longing. He recalled a similar look from the man earlier and considered asking the man about Alex's mother but figured he wouldn't pry, not now.

"Indeed, I should go back and see to Valoria, she saw much in the field and I'm not sure she knows what to do with all of that."

And with that Cyrus bowed his head in deference to the great warrior and took his leave for the evening.

Returning to Valoria's side, he wrapped his arm around her and said, "I do hope you aren't too lost in thought this evening to enjoy dinner and stories by the fire. Perhaps telling your story will help you come to terms with what you saw and what we all did."

Returning from seeing to Lolli stabling the horses and feeding them, Vik approached the group talking with her armoured coat open glad to be close to civilization or what passed for it again. Holding up a bottle of wine she'd bought from the hermit they encountered, she smiled

"Perhaps a toast around the fire tonight is in order?"

"I think I will be ok, my dear soon to be husband. As long as I have you...and my maid of honor by my side, life seems to going very well." Valoria nodded Vik and went back to the work she was about to do. Valoria took out the green ring and poured herself a glass of wine. Her owl, Muninn popped out of her robe, almost as if summoned, a feather being held in his claws. Taking the feather with thanks, Valoria drops the feather into the wine and begins repeating the words, "Quod Verum!" Slowly the feather begins to melt into the wine, changing the red wine into an almost bright golden color. Drinking the golden colored wine down, Valoria eyes and the eyes of Muninn glowed like a hot fire. Valoria and the owl both looked down at the ring, trying to uncover it's secrets.

OOC: Spellcraft check to identify the properties of the green ring. Casting Identify(+10). :)
 03:12, Today: Valoria der lin Lebeda rolled 37 using 1d20+22.  Spellcraft(identify green ring).

The wine sizzles softly as the feather dissolves.

Ron stepped unto the grounds of the trading posts with a spear over his right shoulder and a raccoon by his side, and looked around. The place looked like it could use someone like him to fix things up. 'Now to just find who was in charge around here.'

Oleg’s has had a lot of work done on it in recent weeks, and it is starting to look in reasonable condition – although there is still plenty of work to do.  The main building are all watertight, although they could do with a lick of paint both inside and out.  However, it is the four towers that need most work.  Originally open backed, lookout points,  enclosing walls and a rough floor has been added to turn them into habitable buildings.  However, there are chinks in the walls that let the wind in, the rooves have leaks and a rickety ladder connects the two floors.

It is quieter here than a few days ago.  Then it was humming with activity as Borric and his group returned from their expedition to Drowned Trees and their defeat of the piratical bandit group that worked from there.   They had rescued a whole group of people from that village and brought them back to Midmarch -  as this land was now known.  There had been settlers as well, pioneers who had made their own way down here, most on foot with their few possession loaded onto a couple of mules or a pack horse.  One or two had been driving small herds of sheep, other had chickens in crates, all had tools of one type or another -  all hoping to claim a stake for themselves in this new word.   But they had moved on, Borric had lead them onto the Orcy Ring, with the intention of sending some on to Fort Stag, and only a few were left behind.

Oleg and Svetlana tended to be busy running the outpost proper – while Percy Arndell. One of henry’s men, seemed to be in charge of everything else.

---

PERCY:  You are staying in Henry’s Tower – The ground floor is the ‘office’ and has a crude table with a chair and a couple of stools.  The ‘living room’ is upstairs, with a large double palliasse  a couple of stools and a low table. 

RON:  You can  stay in Guest Tower.  It is unfurnished apart from a number of straw/grass filled mattresses that make ‘camping out’ here a bit more comfortable. 

GENERAL: Svetlana cooks flatbreads for breakfast each morning and there is some sort of stew for dinner. (lots of cabbage and root veg with whatever small game gets brought in)

http://rp.baileymail.net/doku...._land:midmarch:olegs

Each tower room is approx. 15x15 (internal dimensions) with a rickety ladder leading from the ground floor room to the upper floor.  They are droughty and have minor leaks in rainy weather. Ceilings are about 10 feet high -  no windows.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:46, Sun 29 Oct 2017.

Percy was enjoying the chance of a sit down.  A rest would be better but the books wouldn't keep themselves and Henry, his Lord and Master was quite particular about such things.  Perhaps he didn't want to know what each individual nail had cost, but the Lord Warden of the Middle March liked to know that someone was keeping an eye on such things and that there had been a proper accounting.

Still, even the travails of the paperwork enabled the young gentleman to put his feet up (quite literally, one of the stools being pressed into service) as he tends to the books, and provided a welcome break from hammering nails himself or overseeing Keston Garess's men as they laboured away with rather less enthusiasm than skill.

Today, at least, it was quiet, the air free of the constant pounding as his labour force were off felling more trees which would be turned into more logs and planks and ...

A movement catches Percy's eye (the desk in here fortuitously, or knowing the Lord-Dominus, undoubtedly not a happy accident) positioned to provide a line of sight out of the door and down the sheltered cover of the ramparts above to the main gate, where a man with a spear and ... what might be a large cat had just entered the trading post.

With a sigh, Percy's feet vacated the stool as the young gentleman stood, quickly fastening on his sword belt and adjusting it so the hilt of his blade sat easily at his side.  The man did not have the air of a bandit (and they still got the occasional stray coming in, preferring to trust to Henry's mercy than risk the fate that had befallen those who had resisted the imposition of law and order in these lands), nor of a villager ...

"Oh. Welcome to the Trade Post - you are after the services of good master Oleg, or ... ?"

The question was left hanging, but Percy had no qualms in offering his hand to the stranger as he waited upon a response.

Looked the man over. The belted sword and soft looking hands of a scribe spoke of a functionary. Not necessarily a bad thing ... yeah.

"My name is Ron. Nice place you got here. I am an independent contractor looking for work. Who do I talk to around here?"

Percy's lip quirks at the man's response.  "The Lord-Dominus Henry de la Maistre is the one you need ... but he's not here right now.  Not sure when he's expected back, I'm afraid."

"There's a few of us ... how did you put it ?  'Independent contractors' working for the Lord Warden.  I'm 'minding the store', and can hire workmen and the like, but if I'm understanding you correctly, you're looking for something with a bit more excitement," the young gentleman's tone is wistful, surprising even himself, as he finds the current daily grind rather humdrum and misses, though he'd never thought he'd say it, the thrill of the adventure.

"This place ?  Still a 'work in progress', I'm afraid.  Oleg and Svetlana run the trading post."

Excitement meant a totally different thing to Ron "Look, I can see that this place is a mess and needs lots of work. So, I going to start on the gate and move on to other things as I finish. Now, where is the spare lumber and blacksmithy. I did not get a chance to make a set of good tools yet and may have to do with the stuff you have rusting around here."

Svetlana looks up from the fire where she is tending a pot.

After getting no reaction for the scribe, Ron sees a woman making dinner. 'Now there is a woman who should know what things are about.'

Ron steps around the man and heads toward the woman tending the pot "Good day mam. Name is Ron. I fix things that need fixing and make thing that need to be made. How can I be of service to you and this outpost? I see the gate needs maintenance and I am sure plenty of other things can use a fixing touch. A meal in payment would be welcome. My services are well worth the price."

Percy shrugs as the impatient fellow hurries off, watching as he approaches Svetlana, and, as he offers barters his services for a meal, deciding the man poses no threat, spear or no.  Not that the real ruler of the outpost would need the young gentleman's protection, as he's seen her force demon-spawn to retreat with the full force of her invective !

With a shrug and a sigh at the thought of the still waiting paperwork, Percy returns to the office.  He'd have offered the fellow fair coin, of course, but if he prefers to work for but a meal, it would be churlish to deprive him of the chance to demonstrate his altruism.

Svetlana looks up from her cooking as Ron approaches and listens to comments, and points to a table and bench.  "Sit down for a moment.  I'll get Oleg."

Before she heads off though, she hands Ron a flat-bread from a small stack on a plate close to her.  It has cooled now, but it is left overs from this mornings breakfast.

A few moments later, Svetlana returns with an older, balding, man.  Oleg looks Ron over and then asks, "Svetlana tells me you want to fixup the gate for your meals?"

The gate itself is fairly sturdy, however, like many of the outer walls, it made of tree trunks fixed together.  In this case they are small and light enough to work as a gate (rather than the larger trunks that make up the palisade) - but it is still rough workmanship.

Ron stands to shake Oleg's hand. A man running a place like this deserved his respect. "Yes sir. I see there are a lot of things that could use some adjustments and care around here and you may not have the time. I am a carpenter by trade, although I do many things. I figured I can show you some of my skills and we could come to an arrangement."

Carpenter. Percy notes in the ledger, considering making a note about the man's metalworking skills but deciding to wait and see the quality of his workmanship first. Name of Ron.  Followed by the date.  Another body to house, but at least the man could prove useful in making the towers habitable, if Svetlana's cooking convinces him to stay on.  The young gentleman smiles.  Wouldn't be the first and won't be the last.  Certainly none that had left the outpost by choice ever complained about the food.

Oleg shakes the offered hand, with a firm but not overpowering grip.  "A carpenter, eh?  And you think the gate needs fixing up?  fair enough.  There is some timber in the main  shed," and he points to the large shed in front of the barn, "As well as nails and few tools.  Make sure you put any tools you use back where you find them, mind!" he says leaning forward and looking under his brows.  "That gets you dinner and a bed for tonight, and then we'll see ..."

A group of people arrive - Perhaps a dozen adults and four or five children - they have half a dozen sheep and a pack mule with them.  Even the sheep have bundles of gear tied to them. Almost every body looks exhausted from carrying large backpacks and small children.

One man, armed with a spear, calls, "Who is in charge here?"

Spying the new arrivals, Percy stifles a groan as he gets to his feet once more.  "No rest for the morally-challenged," he mutters wryly to himself, setting aside the ledger and buckling his swordbelt on.

The group certainly do not look like the average bandit horde of his recent acquaintance, though the size of the group will certainly stretch the resources of the outpost and seem very much like an invasion to those currently in residence, but ne'ertheless the young gentleman has a smile on his face as he strides forwards to greet them.

"Oh. Welcome to the Trade Post.  I'm Percy Arndell ... duly appointed representative of the Lord Warden Henry de la Maistre.  Very pleased indeed to meet you," he offers his hand to the spear-carrier (another carpenter ?) with nods and smiles all round to the other adults and children.