Chapter I - Into the Wilderness

Ardan curses under his breath. He can his see the beast closing in to the bandits on foot. If it reaches them, they don't stand a chance.
"I'm so going to regret this... Bloody Wilderness..." he turns Wolf around and charges towards the beast, intent to ram it from the side to get its attention.

Naesala curses silently and moves with the party in attempting to surround and herd the beast, keeping off to a side so as to avoid its attention whilst keeping a pace that would allow and attack should the moment present itself. The creature moves fast for such a huge thing, and that momentum could well work against it...

Ardan can feel Wolf tipping his head ever-so-slightly to the side to give Ardan a look. The look says, Really? Really man? This is what we're doing? But Wolf is a true professional and follows Ardan's lead.

As he rides toward the keratops, Ardan gets a good look of the animal from the side. It has an armored plate that covers its neck, plus a ridge of spikes and armored plates along its back, which follow its spine and down its tail to a spiked club at the tip of its tail. A curious mind might wonder what such a large creature would need protection from. A particularly tall predator? One swooping from above? What sort of terrors does the Wilderness hold for the keratops to need such defenses?

But Ardan sets all those thoughts aside - or never has them in the first place - to crash into the creature's unprotected flank, bashing its ribs. The creature roars with fury and lunges for Ardan. It's lateral mobility is limited but its tail is not. It swings its spike tail toward Ardan's face and comes close enough - oh so close - for Ardan to immediately regret his decision. Or not, only Ardan can say.

The tail does snag Wolf, who is decidedly displeased by this turn of events and will likely let Ardan know about it later, if there is a later. For now, the keratops has changed its course. It is no longer barreling down toward Otto and the bandits but is now determined to trample Ardan and gore Wolf.

Otto changes direction one more time, and catches a glimpse of the horned beast veering toward Ardan. Perhaps a little confusion may break its charge, and he gives heels to his horse's side, aiming to race well ahead of the beast's right flank.

"A creature this big, it must get winded quickly, right?", he fervently hopes to himself as his horse closes the gap.

Ardan is so close to the monster, Otto yelps a cry to get its attention away from Ardan and Wolf, "Hyaa! Hyaa!", and steers his horse away from the beast's path and straight to the trees.

Adrasta keeps riding towards the edge of the clearing. She looks over her shoulder and sees both Ardan and Otto charging at the Keratas. "Skata sta moutra sou," she curses in Brass Speech at the sight of her comrades' foolishness. She pulls on her horse's reins and brings it to a stop.

She reaches behind her back and pulls out her bow, the one taken from Puppy. She hadn't had any time to practice with the thing, but maybe arrows flying way off-target would distract the keratas if the two heroic idiots needed help getting away from the massive, spiky, horned death-beast.

Though Naesala is secretly impressed with Otto's daring display of dexterity, the elf has more immediate problems to concern herself with. The beast lets out a roar of defiance at its new rider which causes Naesala's own mount to buck furiously in terror, the horse eventually falling to the floor and nearly crushing her beneath its heavy frame, the scout barely managing to throw herself free at the last moment and ending up winded as a result. The horse gets back to its feet and bolts away from the scaled monster, leaving Naesala to curse it and watch on helplessly as the battle moves swiftly out of her area of influence.

Ardan turns on his horse again and again, making sure the beast is following him. He is riding away from the group and then towards the next piece of forest in order to lose the beast between the trees and undergrowth.
Let's hope its memory is short-lived enough to have forgotten about the others when it lost my trail... And let's hope Wolf can handle this pace until we are away. "Let's go Wolf! Just a bit more. Good girl!"

Ardan spurs Wolf on, and Wolf responds admirably.

Wolf propels the duo into the forest, then slaloms around the tree trunks like an expert skier flashing around poles.

The keratops tries to pursue but cannot. It can't plow through the thick evergreen trees and it's not nimble enough to navigate them the way that Wolf can. The keratops stops and snorts and then turns back to the open field.

That's enough time for everyone else to have cleared out. Even Nedry, waddling as much as running, makes it away safety. Once concealed in the trees, he pants and gasps and then barfs up the ration that he had been eating shortly before. He leans on a tree trunk, then slowly slides down to a sitting position as the adrenaline leaves his body.

Ardan can tell that they're not being pursued anymore. He slows Wolf down, who seems a little smug. There's an extra bounce in Wolf's step as he trots along.

Ardan turns to circle the treeline to rejoin the others. It's not hard to find them. Nedry is still gasping for air. Naesala has some significant contusions, maybe even some minor fractures. Her ribs ache. His tailbone is screaming at her to the point where it's hard to walk upright.

Otto rides to the group as he listens to the snorting beast stomping away, the sound fading across the field.

"What in the name of the gods was that thing?!", his eyes a little wide. He dismounts and approaches Naesala with a concerned look. "Are you sorely injured? That was quite the unpleasant-looking dismount. Thankfully, none of the beast's spikes or horns lodged into anyone's ribs or backsides, eh?"

"Ned, judging from your rapid dash to the trees, I would presume that you've never been employed as a message-runner." Otto laughs a relieved laugh, and hands Nedry the water skin again. "Please, don't touch your lips to this. It would be preferable to keep it free of vomit."

Otto slaps his hands on his thighs and exclaims to the group, "Well! That was....invigorating!"

Adrasta only puts the bow away once everyone is safely behind the cover of trees. She takes her time to ride over to the others, making sure not to disturb the vegetation too much. It wouldn't do to undo Ardan's valiant efforts through carelessness.

Once back with the group, she dismounts and walks to Naesala as Otto checks up on her. "She's been through worse. Don't worry, I'll have her marching in no time."

She rubs her hands and focuses her energy. She grins at the elven woman. "You know the drill, try not to squirm too much." Adrasta's hands begin to glow softly, and she passes them over Naesala's wounds, speeding her body's natural healing and knitting her flesh closed.

Once done, she looks over the rest of the group, but no one else seems injured. She turns to Nedry. "You are a very lucky man. Don't forget to thank Ardan. Without his theatrics, you would be a stain in the grass."

She then turns to the other bandit. "And you, malakia. You need to learn some Trade Cant."

When Ardan realises they lost the beast he makes Wolf continue a little bit more, just to make sure there are no sudden surprises, then stops, dismounts and starts padding the horse. "You did really well today! Remind me to give you a treat at first convenience. And sorry for the bump into that rhino. Let me see whether you got hurt."
He inspects Wolf for any injuries other than bruises and then mounts it again to circle back to the group at gentle speed.

Ardan finds that Wolf is unharmed. If anything, the proud horse seems a bit affronted by the notion that it would be hurt.

Ardan is a reasonable judge of horses. Wolf isn't a battle-trained mount (yet), but Ardan gets the sense that Wolf could be with the right training. This encounter certainly speaks well of Wolf's potential.

The elf nods once to Adrasta, averting her gaze and obviously more than a little ashamed that her Art let her down in such spectacular fashion. Even if equestrianism were not the main focus of her talents, she should have been more than agile enough to avoid... well, THAT. As her fractured rib resets itself, her mood does seem to brighten, and she replies to Otto's rambling question with a rare attempt at humour.
"A creature perhaps easier to remain in the saddle of than certain human-trained mounts, perhaps?"

She stands and dusts herself of once the medic has finished tending her wounds, thanking her. "And it appears that my backside remains as free of spikes as ever."

Otto smiles at Naesala's quip, before looking at his companions.

"Thank you all, that was quite an effort. I must say, considering that we were running away, we make running away look almost heroic! That may have been the most aggressive retreat in the history of retreats! And well done, my friends. Lives were saved, that is sure."

Otto walks to the draft horse, and checks the cargo strapped to its back. Everything appears to be in place. With a glance he checks over his friends. A little winded, perhaps, but they seem to have made a quick recovery.

Nedry, on the other hand, seems a little exhausted. He ties his own pony behind the draft horse, and takes anything that might be considered dangerous out of his saddlebags. "Let's go, Nedry, you ride for a few, at least until you get your legs back. We need to get going. Everybody ready?"

<<Early Afternoon - Day 2 - Early Spring - Bandit Camp - Wilderness>>

Nedry looks grateful for the offer. It takes some assistance for him to get up in the saddle. When he does so, the horse visibly sags. It casts a plaintive look back at Otto but to no avail.

Nedry is even worse at riding a horse than he is at running. He's a nervous rider and the horse feeds off his anxiety. Otto reclaims his horse after a reasonable interval.

Luckily the remaining trip back the trading post is uneventful. In fact, it's a pleasant spring day, with the sun and birdsong and blooming flowers betraying none of your recent murders.

When you break through the tree line, you see Puppy at work in the garden. A cry goes up among Nedry, Puppy, and the nameless bandit. They all rush together for a happy reunion, obviously surprised to find each other alive. They babble rapidly among each other in Modern Vothian, updating each other on what happened. Dark looks are cast in your direction, likely as you are the killers of their companions.

Ignacio is sitting at a table outside, having lunch with a man you don't recognize. Ignacio stands up when he sees you, giving you a shout and a wave. He calls out to Emma, who emerges from the trading post. Emma and Ignacio look pleased at your return. They greet you warmly and offer you lunch - sausage of some sort, plus bread and cheese - and fresh goat milk to drink.

The man eating lunch with Ignacio has a lean and hungry look. He's clearly a hunter and his appearance is borderline feral. He might be considered ruggedly handsome, if you like unwashed outdoorsmen. His arms are all sinew and his aquiline nose has a pronounced hook. His skin is deeply tanned, which must be perpetual since the winters aren't that sunny in these parts. Although he's in his thirties, he has minimal facial hair; his black hair is cut short.

The man approaches Ardan. Or, more accurately, he approaches Wolf. He goes up to Wolf, makes eye contact, and bumps Wolf's nose gently with the back of his hand. He starts to whisper to Wolf before Ardan has even dismounted. It sounds like he's speaking... horse? And Wolf seems to be neighing and snorting back in a pattern that sounds like he's speaking back.

"A fine animal," the man says in somewhat strained Trade Cant. "I see you have more than you need. I offer you 200 silver for him."

It's a direct offer with no introduction. Perhaps that is how things are done in the Wilderness: directly, with none of the social conventions of the city.

Ardan jumps of his high horse in a semi-elegant motion and looks at the stranger. Money had never been much of a motivator for him and thinking back at the recent events and Wolf's role in it all he cannot help but smile about the strangers inquiry. "I appreciate your keen eye, Wolf is indeed a fine horse and if you offered me the same value in gold I'd still be selling her under price. Out here silver does not help me much, but the service of a horse is invaluable. I will have to politely decline your surely honest offer. "
He leads Wolf into the palisade and serves him the finest hay and freshest water he can find.

Adrasta dismounts, nowhere as neatly as Ardan. While the latter speaks to Ignacio and Emma's strange guest. Adrasta looks over at the three surviving bandits' conspiratorial meeting. She squares her shoulders and crosses her arms. "Are we going to have a problem, Nedry?" she calls out to them, the challenge plain in her tone.

The former bandit pales, his jowls quivering. "N-No, sir! I mean, ma'am..."

"Good. Make sure we don't." She grins. "I've avoided digging graves so far, but if the lot of you try anything stupid, I might not be able to."

The bandits reminded of their lot, Adrasta walks over to Emma and fishes the wedding ring out of her bag. "I believe this is yours."

"200 gold then," the man says to Ardan. And, before Ardan can object, the man throws a pouch at him that Ardan has to catch.

The pouch is heavy and it jangles. Looking inside, Ardan can see hundreds of gold coins. Exactly 200? He'd have to count it out, but surely it's a princely sum. The man continues to whisper to Wolf, and Wolf seems to whisper back.

***

Nedry caves, and then slinks off from the trio of bandits. Or perhaps Nedry spied lunch and wanted to see what was available. It's possible that the sausage and cheese and goat milk is better - or perhaps more familiar - than the stews he was eating in the bandit camp. Puppy and the nameless bandit continue to converse in low tones, especially when they see Adrasta talking to Emma.

***

Emma looks shocked, then touched. She's stunned, with one hand lightly pressing her lips. "I never thought I'd see this again," she tells Adrasta. "Thank you..."

She wordlessly wanders off to show Ignacio. When he sees it, the two embrace and share a moment.

Ardan clumsily fumbles catching the unexpected projectile. He is dumbstruck and the keen observer can be witness to one of the few times Ardan is lost for words.
Then he regains his focus and carefully tosses the bag of coins back to its owner and answers "I can see you are serious about this, but I was not lying when I said 'even with the same amount in gold I would sell her under value'. Wolf is not for sale.
But where are my manners. My name is Ardan Locke, I am from everywhere and nowhere and new to this corner of the woods. " he proffers a hand in what he knows to be a sign of friendly introduction.

The man considers the bag of gold tosses back at him. Ardan doesn't know if it's an affront or not.

In the pause, Ardan has a moment to study the man more closely. He's not armed nor is he wearing armor, although it's possible that he put things down to have lunch. His clothes are mostly tanned skins and leathers, designed for a rough environment. His arms are bare which is perhaps a bit odd; it's sunny but not that warm. Evidently the man is comfortable.

The man stares at the outstretched hand as if he's never seen such a thing. After a moment there seems to be some recognition that it's an overture or greeting of some sort, something the fancy gents do in the south. The man nods lightly but doesn't shake, nor does he introduce himself.

"Wise," he says, presumably of the declined transaction. "Very wise."

He looks to the horse. "You named him... Wolf?" There's an arched eyebrow and a look of skepticism. Ardan is unsure if his choice of name is being questioned or if the man is unsure of the translation into Trade Cant.

"Wolf would come if I asked, but I will not ask. He says you ride well. He also says you owe him a treat."

The man lets Wolf nuzzle him. He pats Wolf in return and slips the pouch of gold into his vest. This action does not go unnoticed by Puppy and the nameless bandit. Evidently the jingle of gold coins traverses language barriers.

"You met a thagomizer. They breed in the fall, give birth in the spring. Very dangerous.

"I will hunt it."

And with that he starts to walk across the field to the north. He's unarmed, unarmored, carrying nothing but the clothes on his back and whatever he has tucked into them. Evidently lunch with Ignacio was done, or his notions of civility make it acceptable to leave in the middle of it.

Naesala is even more quiet than usual on the journey back to the trading post; the elf tends to brood, the others know, after suffering some kind of setback in her training, and it is clear that her ignominious dismounting is weighing heavily on her.

In fact, her thoughts are currently centred on her first existence, what the more fleeting races might consider childhood, on a world far from this one and most unsimilar to it. She thinks of her Preceptor, the elf who was there at her beginning, whose Art is also her own, and who imparted the foundations of her wisdom over the course of years. Though she had previously believed to have absorbed all she could from his judicious guidance, a niggling doubt had emerged ever since setting foot in these lands; had she truly understood all the elf had offered her, or were there yet still layers to his teachings that Naesala had presumptuously neglected?

As the darkness obscures, so to doth it reveal, for nothing in this world casts not a shadow.
This teaching of her Preceptor especially had seemingly forced its way to the forefront of her mind, and Naesala's Art seemed enamoured with the words. As she considers them, she allows her Art gradually more control over her senses, enough to augment and advise without fully giving herself to its instinctual control; Naesala closes her eyes, and in that moment the world reveals itself. The trade post is before her, the laughing Ignacio and his burly cohort at the table, the man's wife to the side with the same look of amiable concern she had worn last they met. The woodland trail they had travelled here on falls behind her, a small rodent scurrying up one of the trees a hundred feet back. A bird soars overhead, with dark brown plumage and wicked talons ready to snatch up its prey. And below, her feet tread softly though the light foliage, light greens starkly contrasted against the black of the rich soil.

Naesala nearly staggers from the overwhelming sensory information, taking a deep gasping breath before a bright smile forms on her face. With her eyes open this time, she once more allows the Art to reinforce her awareness, and she knows that then it is a talent she has mastered. There is something to this land, this wilderness that resonates with my Preceptor's teachings. she muses, enjoying the experience of this heightened alertness. How many more lessons might I learn in our stay here?

Arriving at the trade post, Naesala merrily accepts an uncharacteristically large serving of Emma's stew and asks of the man leaving. "Has he the means to slay such a creature?"

Ardan looks at the man pass him in utter confusion. Then he gathers himself and goes after him. "Wait! How did you do that, talk to Wolf? And how do you plan to single handedly deal with that beast?"

With a sidelong glance, Otto eyes the stranger looking at Wolf and giving Ardan the business. He certainly didn't seem to hesitate. "Better keep an eye on that one", he notes, just as he catches Nedry's eye. Otto knows they can manage one or two former brigands, but three together...this concerns him. Nedry can be voted down by the others, or easily swayed. There's danger here, more for Nedry's future than anything else.

But business first. The group had traveled and dirtied its hands to put an end to the brigands to the north. Done and done. Returning what had been taken from Ignacio and Emma, it seems Adrasta has had a head start. As he leads the draft horse, he glimpses Emma's reaction to the ring. The surprise, the recognition, the memories....he wishes he had seen this expression before making his carving of her and Ignacio. The moment was wonderful, but nothing compared to what came next, as she showed Ignacio their lost memento. He takes in their shared wonder, and their loving embrace. The time-carved concerns faded from their faces right before his eyes, as if seeing them at their betrothal, as if looking back in time. He lets their moment fade before approaching them with the pack horse.

"Pardon me for interrupting, I see Adrasta has returned your ring already...", his smile almost embarrassed. "I am certain that some or much of this belongs to both of you, as well", he comments as he removes the blanket covering the packed items on the horse. "Please, anything that was yours, or anything that appropriately replaces what you've lost to these brigands, help yourselves to them. We'll keep whatever remains."

Ignacio shrugs at Otto.

"We wouldn't have any of it, if it weren't for you. Or if you had just wandered off, never to return. So take what you need, or want, and we will trade the rest."

Otto senses that he's caught Ignacio in a good mood, likely due to the return of Emma's ring.

***

The man doesn't respond to Ardan as he walks off into the forest. Evidently social niceties aren't a thing in the wilderness.

"How can anyone do anything?" Ignacio asks rhetorically. "How can I speak with you and you with me? We know the same language. He speaks with Wolf because they speak the same language."

Ignacio seems to think nothing of it. "Some men cast spells, some pull swords from thin air. Some men work with their hands, others with their mind, and others with magic."

He turns to Naesala.

"Can he?" he says, echoing her question. "Yes, most likely. Although one wonders what he will do with such a large carcass. Or perhaps he seeks the eggs, or the nest. His motivations are his own."

What's his name?

"He has never told us what he calls himself," Emma admits. "We call him Silvanus, and he knows that is our name for him, but he doesn't have the same notions of identity as you and I do. He comes and goes as he pleases. We see him once a moon or so."

Tecumseh wrote:

"We wouldn't have any of it, if it weren't for you. Or if you had just wandered off, never to return. So take what you need, or want, and we will trade the rest."

Otto clasps Ignacio's hand and smiles. "Thank you, Ignacio, that's most generous." He glances over his shoulder and continues, "Would you happen to have some apples or carrots, something for the horses? They certainly earned their keep today."

"Oh, and how is Puppy working out? With three of these ex-brigands together again, I have to admit, concern for your safety weighs on my mind. If you would like us to escort them out of town for you, say the word. I think Nedry will be all right by himself, but with the others to influence him, who knows..."

He turns in time to see the stranger leaving back into the wilderness. Otto didn't know the full details of Ardan's conversation, but it sounded like a princely sum was involved -- involved, and denied. With an inward shrug, he lets it pass. "We've come out well, and Ardan has his reasons. Days will come when I make my claims, as well. All's fair."

Ignacio scratches his head.

"Apples are harvested in the fall, so they're six months out. I just put carrots in the ground a week ago. Wait, I have it."

He disappears inside the trading post and emerges with a large handful of dried, shriveled fruits that he cups in both hands.

"Dates," he announces. "Very rare around here. They come far from the south. They are sweet; they horses will like them."

Emma raises an eyebrow. She looks surprised that Ignacio is sharing.

"Try one yourselves, but try not to like them too much: they're more expensive than drugs."

Then he looks to the trio of (ex?) bandits.

"Break them up," he says. "Two, I can handle. Three is too much."

There is a deep rumble in the sky. The weather is sunny but a glance to the west shows dark clouds rolling in. A spring storm is brewing.

After having returned the ring, Adrasta spends a moment enjoying Emma and Ignacio's reaction. It was a small good deed, not much in the balance of her life, but seeing such honest joy and love was a blessing.

She spots Nedry heading for the food out of the corner of her eye and follows suit. She quickly counts the number of knives on the table as he seats himself, then sits on a stool opposite the big former bandit. She takes one of the knives and cuts a thick slice of sausage and offers it to Nedry, before cutting one for herself and eating it off the blade. "Tell me, Nedry. Are you any good with quill and parchment? We could use a map of the surrounding area."

She looks up as she hears the rumble of thunder and sees the dark clouds on the horizon. They would probably have to stay until the storm passed. She looks back down at Nedry and starts cutting another slice of sausage as she waits for his answer.

Nedry sits at the table and, uninvited, immediately starts stuffing his face.

Adrasta joins him and asks about quill and parchment. He nods vigorously.

"I have my letters," he mumbles with his mouth full, crumbs of bread spilling out. He pauses, momentarily embarrassed - perhaps considering the trading post and small bastion of civilization where manners are still observed - before finishing chewing.

A piece of parchment is provided, as is a quill and inkpot. "The River and the Wall are here, to the south," he draws. "There's an ocean to the west and mountains to the east. I never saw the ocean myself but you can see the mountains clear as day if you find a hilltop above the trees. To the north is the Wilderness." He takes another bite while finishing his drawing. "Thar be monsters," he garbles through his food, drawing a question mark on the map.

Naesala looks at the scirbbled map and gives the others a Look.
"Know you not of any more minor details, perhaps within the regions local of your erstwhile encampment?"

Nedry looks nervous at the question.

"Well, it's woods, innit? Some streams, some ponds, some hills."

He draws some squiggles. They don't look very convincing.

"I'm a scribe, not a cartographer."

He seems to be straining to think of interesting information, lest Naesala turn on him.

"There are miners in the mountains. Small encampments, usually just a handful of folks. Six, maybe twelve at the most." He makes some Xs on the map, although you're pretty sure they're just random. "Word is that sometimes they uncover chasms and even whole cities down there! You know, from the time of the Outsiders..."

He looks around nervously. There are stories of the heroes of old who emerged from fortresses underground to take back the surface from the Outsiders. Then there are others who dismiss such outlandish tales and assign them to overactive imaginations of little boys and little girls who like storybooks more than their daily chores.

Nedry changes the subject. "Over here, on the coast and along the larger rivers, fishing villages." More random Xs here and there. "In the summer and fall, fish swim into the rivers from the oceans. They say that there are so many you can walk across the river on their backs without getting your feet wet! Enough to support larger villages, with surplus enough to trade. Dozens, maybe even hundreds of people. I'm told the villagers often live in one big house altogether! Can you imagine them getting along well enough to make that work?"

He gives a wistful sigh, perhaps thinking of his own unhappy home life.

"The stories say they are powerful magicians to survive in the Wilderness. Like that fellow." He nods toward the departed Silvanus. "But I don't know if that's true or just a tall tale to keep outsiders at bay." He laughs nervously, knowing he falls into that category. "Or, you know, to explain why they can survive out there while others can't. Magic, you know. OOOOo!" He makes ghostly noises, like one might use to frighten children. He giggles nervously, hoping Naesala doesn't break his neck right then and there.

Tecumseh wrote:

"I'm a scribe, not a cartographer."
"There are miners in the mountains. Small encampments, usually just a handful of folks. Six, maybe twelve at the most."
"Word is that sometimes they uncover chasms and even whole cities down there! You know, from the time of the Outsiders..."

These things claw at Otto's consciousness. Nedry seems full of surprises, and while a cartographer could be particularly useful around the shipyard, scribes have
their own value.

"Nedry...", Otto stammers out trying to phrase his question, "...why...why would a scribe be throwing in with bandits? No offense, but fighting, hunting, trapping...these things do not....I don't know....fit. What were you doing for these brigands that made them want to keep you around?"

Without waiting for Nedry to answer, "But these mountains...THAT seems like a good place to build a road, eh?"

He absent-mindedly fumbles for the pouch holding the wooden disk, pulls out his carving knife, and sits at the nearest table to do a little whittling. He looks up at Nedry, waiting for explanations, or anything else to spill out of the former bandit's mouth. Whatever Nedry may be, he appears to have more information about this area than his companions, and he's eager to hear more. Whether he believes anything Nedry says or not, well, that may be questionable. In any case, Otto wants to hear what Nedry has to say.

Nedry laughs nervously again, as if Otto is testing his story for inconsistencies.

"It's like I said this morning, my parents disowned me. Ostracized me." Then, after a moment considering Otto's physique: "That means they cast me out."

He wrings his hands. The subject is clearly uncomfortable.

"My parents couldn't stand the thought of me as their heir. 'Sad sack' they'd say, or 'limp lump'." These are likely references to his obese frame, which is overfed and unimpressive. "My younger brother cuts a finer figure. Charismatic. A lady killer. Good with a sword, like you all. Very dashing. They want him to inherit the family estate without me around to muck things up. They thought I'd do something with legal mumbo jumbo to stake my claim."

It's unclear if these are Nedry's words or theirs.

"They didn't want anyone else using me as a pawn or to create dynastic dissent, so they blacklisted me. Cast me into the Wilderness. Figured I wouldn't last long. Either some beast would feast on me or I'd wither away. Luckily I had a little fat on my frame to get me through some cold nights and hungry days."

He shakes his belly, which is indeed ample.

It's an interesting story. The implication is that Nedry's family has money, maybe even substantial quantities of it. But, as they seem to be actively trying to get rid of him, his value as a hostage is nil.

Otto presses on about what value Nedry might have had to the bandits.

"Well, as a translator, see?" he answers, nodding toward Puppy and the nameless bandit. "I have my Brass Speech, and my Emedian, and my Modern Vothian." Then, after a moment: "My Old Vothian too. That doesn't come up as much."

He shakes the thought and presses on.

"I'm a good cook, I am. I figure that if you must eat then you should do it well. A bit of a naturalist, I know my roots and herbs. I have a touch of engineering. I can play the harp, the lute, the crwth" - is that a word? - "and my singing voice is wonderfully true."

He smiles again, nervously, perhaps hoping you don't make him demonstrate. Or perhaps he is unsure if this is justification enough to exist in Otto's eyes.

"My apologies, prying is not my intent, nor is bringing bad memories to the fore." Otto regards Nedry for a longer time than is comfortable, his brow furrowed.

"I am suspicious", he says with some finality. "My suspicion is that your family misjudges you. What family would waste talents such as these?"

Otto glances around the room. He has no quips, no humor, only a touch of indignation at the casting aside of obvious talent. "Those talents we would likely have use for as we carve our road to the mountains, or wherever we choose to go. But who knows, perhaps only an ugly death awaits us in the wilderness, trampled by thagomizers or worse. But I will offer you this -- respectable work with the Family Bjornsted at our shipyard. My father and brothers can give you work that suits your abilities. Your eye for detail and engineering would be welcome, and it is a clear path to pride and respectability, if you wish to take it."

Adrasta listens in silence to the exchange between Nedry and Otto, staring blankly at the chubby bandit's useless fucking map. The question mark was especially puzzling. Why did he feel the need to emphasize his ignorance of what lay in the big green block? She snorts when Otto mentions Nedry's "eye for detail". She looks again at the map to make sure she hadn't missed something the artisan's keen eye might have caught, but no, it still looks like a child's drawing.

A cook, a musician and a translator would be a good addition to their little band, but it seems like Otto had other plans for the former bandit. Probably for the best, Adrasta thinks as she looks him over, he wouldn't last long in the Wilderness anyway. The day's events had proven that. "Probably the best chance you've got of making something of yourself," she says without malice. "No offense, but if you stay out here, I wouldn't bet money on you."

"Well I don't fit their image, do I?" Nedry says, as he tries to explain his family's logic. "Not a warrior, not a diplomat, not a sire of great hordes of children. Not an inspiration. A disappointment."

There's a nervous smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asks Otto timidly. "If my family finds out, they'll never forgive you. They'll do all they can do punish the business."

What can they do to shipwrights?

"Blacklist you. Get their friends and allies to boycott you and patronize other shipwrights. Apply pressure to officials. Harass your suppliers. Maybe hire thugs."

What are the odds? It's a big world and it seems unlikely that Nedry would be found... but nor is it impossible. Some additional conversation reveals that Nedry's parents are an upwardly-mobile Baron/Baroness with some respectable lands in the south that generate income and an eye to acquire more. They're not particularly close to the shipbuilding industry, nor would there be any obvious overlap with Otto's family, but it seems likely that over the course of years or decades that Nedry's presence would eventually come to light.

Tecumseh wrote:

"If my family finds out, they'll never forgive you. They'll do all they can do punish the business."

"For giving you a job? What kind of malicious schlong-wranglers are these people?", Otto says with a laugh. "Nobody is firing across their bow, or anything of the sort." Otto commences whittling on the disk, then looks away in thought, wondering if there was rampant inbreeding in Nedry's family. "Best not to suggest that."

"Are your parents', errrm.....'faculties' all there? Not two chicken legs short of a picnic, are they?" he queries. He shakes his head slowly as he whittles. Otto seems somewhat lost by this foreign way of thinking, and finds himself progressively more irritated by the thought of it. His knife slips, nicks his thumb. He carries on, not noticing, smudging a little blood into the woodgrain. "Father will see this, and know what it means. 'Risk of violence. Caution.'" The specific risk is unknown, but care should be taken to accept this worker or not.

Nedry shrugs, seeming to think nothing of it. "This is what life is like among the minor nobility. These are their concerns and considerations. This is what they do to acquire more and advance in society.

"The life of a trapper makes no sense to a courtier, and vice versa. The world works differently for different people."

Adrasta nods at Nedry's response to Otto. "Back in my Crimson Legion days," she says in a way that contrasts harshly with her young age, "we got most of our jobs from minor nobles. I'm afraid that attitude is pretty much the norm. They're a petty, paranoid, greedy bunch. Although, I suppose it's not paranoia if your peers are all out to get you."

"If you'd rather not put your family at risk, Otto, I'm sure Nedry would understand."

moarhair wrote:

"Back in my Crimson Legion days, we got most of our jobs from minor nobles. I'm afraid that attitude is pretty much the norm. They're a petty, paranoid, greedy bunch. Although, I suppose it's not paranoia if your peers are all out to get you."

"If you'd rather not put your family at risk, Otto, I'm sure Nedry would understandé"

Otto smiles a little as Adrasta mentions paranoia, and the truth in those words.

"Shipbuilders are not defenseless, and though there may be competition between them, there is also kinship. Pressure against one builder is seen as an attack
against all. It is not without precedent that a noble house has lost all access to ships when they unwisely flexed muscles against a builder. Ships built under duress have been known to sink, sometimes in spectacular and rather embarrassing fashion for their owners. When push comes to shove, nobles must rely on the builders for their pleasure-yachts, symbols of their wealth and status."

"To be honest, Nedry, my father might not take you on. It may be too much of a risk, and he'd send you back here straight away. Or, you could earn your keep with us, and trim off a little around the middle, and make your name with us. Who knows, you may even cut a dashing figure like your brother -- and do daring deeds that he could only dream of while servants bring him his breakfast, or whatever happens at home."

Otto stops his whittling, as continuing may be pointless, depending on Nedry's decision.

After the animal whisperer gave Ardan the cold shoulder, he joins the rest for the meal. He eats quietly listening to the various conversations, observing. When he sees Nedry's crude map and hears his subsequent list of skills he can't help but thinking If he translates the way he draws, I don't want to put my fate in his hands.
For a brief moment he is thinking of challenging Nedry by talking to him in one of the named languages, but quickly decides against it. The kid is on the spot enough already.
Eventually he uses a brief pause in the conversation to speak his own idea. "You know, it happens more often than not, that an heir does not fulfil all the requirements of his future position. Usually the most powerful people in a given fiefdom are therefore the people behind the rulers, the ones that know what they are doing and advise the ruler. What do you think, we organise ourselves a little rebellion and get Nedry what's rightfully his. I would keep on the brother, he seems like a good man, but maybe the two could inherit sooner rather than later. And we would become the people behind the ruler. Let's play the game of thrones! " he looks around the table to see everybody's reaction and then adds "But before that I, too, am very curious about those deeps in the mountains. Nedry can wait here for us or come along, I'm fine either way."

"No!" Nedry says more forcefully than he expects, surprising himself. Then, softer, "No... I'm not one for rebellion.

"I don't care about the land. I don't care about the title. I do miss the food... the wine from our vineyards..." He trails off.

"But I'm not a natural leader, not the way my brother is. I'm happy enough to advise him when the time comes. I just have to survive from now until then. Outlive my parents."

He looks around, uncomfortable at all the attention about his fate.

"It seems that the best way to survive would be to stay out of the Wilderness. I would be very happy as a bookkeeper or an administrative sort. In addition to my numbers and letters, I have some talent for it, I like to think."

He gulps hard before turning to Otto. "Is the, ah, food any good?"

"Don't worry Nedry, a rebellion does not require to be armies plowing through the land. The most successful ones are silent and from within. I ones was part of one, it is theatre, really. And usually a bit of murder, I admit to that. But, hey, I'm not pushing anybody. It was just a thought " Albeit a nice one. he continues in his head and with a sigh he thinks back to the theatre and intrigue of days before.

Tecumseh wrote:

He gulps hard before turning to Otto. "Is the, ah, food any good?"

Otto chuckles. "Hardy, if not particularly sophisticated. And I hope you like fish. Some new cooking might be welcome, even if it's just to show the cooks how to make a few new dishes."

Otto takes up a blank piece of parchment, dips the quill in the ink, and goes to work on a note to his father.

Otto writes his note to his father. The letter gives Nedry's name, his claimed skills, and that Otto suggests that he be considered. Otto includes some details about how Nedry has fallen into disfavor with his family.

While Otto is writing, Emma goes inside to fetch a candle and some wax. When the letter is complete and folded, she melts some wax and presses a seal against it. The seal might not mean anything to Otto's father, but nobody else knows that. It should discourage someone from opening the letter and trying to reseal it.

Otto hands the letter and the carving to Nedry. Nedry clutches them to his chest like a winning lottery ticket. He looks like a drowning man who has just been thrown a lifeline.

The dark clouds advance from the west.

The horses are put in a shed that's too small to be called a barn. It's obvious it was just meant for two horses, maybe three, but not five. The horses seem to sense what's coming and don't object to the confined quarters after a little convincing from Ardan.

Then the storm hits and it's a wild springtime affair. Black skies broken by bright sun, soft rain, sun, hard rain, sun, strong winds the whole while.

The roof leaks. Otto looks up and his crafter's eye has no problem identifying several opportunities for improvement. The trading post would never float, should some petulant mage flip it onto its back and cast it into the River. Emma races about with buckets, embarrassed.

Ignacio ignores the leaks. "Ja, miners in the mountains, ja," he nods, his ugly head bobbing up and down to confirm Nedry's account. "They come in for supplies once a month. They usually trade raw copper, sometimes gold, sometimes treasures." His eyebrows waggle.

Does Ignacio know where their camps are? He does, sort of.

"About two days walk. One to the north, one east-northeast. Or vice versa." That translates to one long day on a horse if you know where you're going, which you don't.

"They were here not long ago - a couple days before you arrived - so there may still be a trail... if this storm doesn't erase it."

Emma seemed discomfited, but Adrasta was thankful for the shelter. Too many times, she'd had to weather storms such as this in tents or on the march. Having four walls and a roof was a luxury she was unaccustomed to. "If having us here at this time is too embarrassing, you could always throw us out," she says with a grin.

She shifts her attention to their host as her hears pick up an interesting word. "What kind of treasures?" Adrasta asks Ignacio. This was exactly the kind of thing she had travelled to the Wilderness for. The sooner she earned enough coin to set up a clinic, the sooner she could set to work righting the balance of her life.

"If they come here regularly, they must have some kind of trail they follow. Cutting a path through the undergrowth every time would get tiresome. Although maybe not with the arms you need to smash stone all day."

Emma seems flustered by the questionable construction of the trading post and how the leaks are on display for guests.

"Jewelry," Ignacio answers. "Rings, pendants, chains. Not just gold and silver, but the one that's like silver?"

"Platinum," Emma offers as she bustles about.

"Platinum," Ignacio agrees. "Ornamental weapons and armor. A double-bladed battle axe, but inscribed with things and encrusted with gems. A jeweled crown set into a helmet. Ancient books with yellowing pages written in languages none of us speak. You know, treasures."

Adrasta nods, then looks at Ardan, Otto, and Naesala. "I don't know about you lot, but the mountains sound good to me."

Tecumseh wrote:

Emma seems flustered by the questionable construction of the trading post and how the leaks are on display for guests.

"Jewelry," Ignacio answers. "Rings, pendants, chains. Not just gold and silver, but the one that's like silver?"

"Platinum," Emma offers as she bustles about.

"Platinum," Ignacio agrees. "Ornamental weapons and armor. A double-bladed battle axe, but inscribed with things and encrusted with gems. A jeweled crown set into a helmet. Ancient books with yellowing pages written in languages none of us speak. You know, treasures."

Otto listens to it all, and finds himself liking the idea of going to the mountains more and more, but one thing makes him stop short.

"Did someone say 'battle axe'?"

Emma nods. "Yes, a double-bladed axe. Quite pretty. It seemed smaller than I expected. A yard, perhaps? I always thought of them as these monstrous things, four, five feet long. Not that I know much about battle axes, mind you; perhaps such a length would be impractical. I suppose it was just meant to be ornamental. Steel is to kill, platinum is to impress, yes?"

-----

The storm passes after an hour. Venturing outside, there's bright sunshine. It's now mid-afternoon and the sun has begun its descent toward the western horizon. The ground is still muddy from the storm.

Emma and Ignacio readily agree to stock the draft horse with forage for the other horses. The spring melt should have begun in the mountains, meaning there should be plenty of streams and sources of fresh water. It might be too early for there to be much for the horses to eat though, as there will still be snow once you're above the foothills.

Nedry waddles off to the south with a wave and a few rations, evidently eager to get moving before Otto changes his mind.