Report about supply caravan plot

Posted25 January 2017

Last Updated On20 September 2018

ByNewsby

Sir Bristenn writes a letter, maybe a report, to Lord Salnim Malwind about a plot concerning the supply caravan: http://bit.ly/2khBUjB and look for his log of the encounter with Mureyk at:

http://bit.ly/2jY8KZ6

Category: Towns
Topic: Solhaven

Date: 01/24/2017 08:54 PM CST

From: MAZEIKISJ

Subj: [Swan Song] A Report to Lordship Salnim Malwind

Arriving by dreary courier some time in the early hours of Volnes is a sealed missive, penned directly to the baronial heir of Vornavis, Lord Salnim Malwind.

22 Lormesta, 5117

Honorable Lordship Malwind,

Our order has uncovered at least part of the plot within the wilderness concerning the supply caravan. This day, Restday, Sir Mynon Felcroth and I were taken during our routine routing of the aggressive highwaymen lurking the furthest corners of our barony- we were unharmed, save a few lumps, and brought before the leader of the band working against her Ladyship Kasendra Chandrennin’s relief efforts.

This man was unfamiliar to us both, but named himself as Mureyk, and would not say directly from whence he came. His livery bore worn colors of gules and or and his maille of sooty invar- at best light, he appeared some years our elder and wore a deep scar down the left of his face. One cannot immediately assume he hailed from Jantalar by colors alone, but the suspicion is there. Were that the case, I sincerely doubt he still swears allegiance to the Right Honorable Her Ladyship Baroness Delphinuria Hochstib, for what follows.

The conversation was brief- this Mureyk has warned us that, if we do not cease our operations in the wilderness and towards the other northern provinces, for as he claims we are not needed nor wanted, he would elicit a blood price against our kith and kin.

I still, however, hope that this Mureyk can be reasoned with and his men made to stand down peacefully, for the north needs no more bloodshed, something in which he has shared reluctance. I suggest a parley- one which I submit the Order of the Azure Sun to, in person and in good faith, attempt with Mureyk and his men, before hostilities have the opportunity to boil over and jeopardize her ladyship’s efforts and our own in the troubled north.

Ever House Malwind’s ardent vassal,

Sir Bristenn Colfren Mires, Imperial Knight

-james, bristenn’s player

You think to yourself, “FFF-“

A giant white bunny hurls a powerful lightning bolt at you!

You evade the bolt by a hair!

Date: 01/24/2017 08:59 PM CST

From: MAZEIKISJ

Subj: Re: [Swan Song] A Report to Lordship Salnim Malwind

*And for your OOC viewing pleasure, a briefish log..:*

Out of nowhere a rock is thrown at you, and you move to knock it aside. However as your gauntlet strikes the rock it explodes, knocking you back and stunning you.

You are stunned.

Mynon discreetly removes a jagged glaes bastard axe with dual crescent-shaped blades from inside the ebonwood case.

S>flail

You are still stunned.

As you stand there senseless of your feet, you hear footfalls behind you. Before you can do anything, something heavy strikes you in the head. As the world fades to black you hear a voice say, “Well look what we have here.”

Mynon squints.

You feel yourself being pulled away…

[Northern Wilderness]

The wooded canopy above the road breaks open to reveal a natural clearing in the woods. A small brook runs along the edge of the far side of the woods, while some rocks have been placed into small circular arrangements. With minor debris scattered around the area, the rocks, and the easy acces to water, it is obvious this place is a frequent stopping point for travelers.

Also here: Mureyk

Obvious paths: none

You scrub your hand through your short-cropped deep cordovan hair in frustration.

You sullenly grumble, “Ow.”

As you come to your senses, you find you are no longer in the caravan, and more troubling your arms are bound behind your back.

Mynon says, “Curious.”

You glance over your shoulder.

You furrow your brow, probably adding a wrinkle or two in the process.

You hear footsteps approaching from behind you.

Mureyk walks in from behind you.

Mynon squints at Mureyk.

Mureyk says, “Well well well. What do we have here.”

You see Mureyk.

He appears to be a Human from Jantalar.

He is very tall and appears to be in the prime of life. He has steel grey eyes and tanned skin. He has cropped, black hair peppered with grey. He has a square-jawed face and a short dark beard with touches of grey. A thick pale scar mars his face, cutting from above his left eye straight down to his jawline.

He is in good shape.

He is wearing a faded heavy coat with visible patches of gold and red, some battered black invar platemail with faded red rivets, some stained dark leather gauntlets with invar studded knuckles, a thick dark leather belt with a notched steel hatchet and an oak-hafted steel waraxe hanging from it, some dark red leather trousers, and some mud-splattered boots with reinforced invar toes.

Mureyk says, “A couple of troublesome birds that seem to have lost their way.”

You ponder the meaning of Mureyk’s existence.

You squint.

Mureyk says, “I told you to mind your own business. And yet you still keep at it.”

You nonchalantly admit, “Rather.”

Mynon says, “As opposed to…”

Mynon glances at Mureyk.

Mureyk says, “As opposed to staying where you belong and leaving people alone.”

Mureyk says, “The North does not need you to try and save the day. We were just fine before you came along. And will be just fine after.”

Bristenn shuffles in his binds quite a bit, trying to reach up and scratch his chin. Alack, it is of no use.

You give a sigh of resignation.

Mynon asks, “You represent the North, is that right?”

Mureyk says, “May even do better. As your work last time resulted in an entire town being wiped off the face of the map.”

Mynon peers quizzically at Mureyk.

Mureyk says, “I represent the people who have been through enough and do not need people like you. Thinking you are better than us and know how to save us to come in and try and do just that.”

You tiredly venture, “You seem to know much of our exploits. Might we have a name, master woodsman?”

Mureyk says, “I told you before I am no woodsman.”

Mureyk says, “And the name is Mureyk.”

You incline your head.

Mynon nods.

You simply observe, “Mureyk.”

You reasonably add, “From whence?”

Bristenn is entirely aware of the Jantalarian colors Mureyk wears.

Mureyk asks, “Jantalar. Talador. Mestanir. Does it matter?”

Mureyk says, “Places where homes are gone and people are dead.”

Mureyk says, “Places that have seen enough high and mighty people come in and claim they can save them.”

Mureyk says, “Only to leave them in ruins behind them.”

You slowly agree, “You have a point, at least in regards to the devastation.”

Mureyk says, “That will not happen again.”

Bristenn would still like to scratch that itch, though. It’s maddening. Gradually, slowly but surely, maddening.

Mureyk says, “So I am here to give you a message. One I hope will sink in and be followed this time.”

There are footsteps behind you, and you feel someone grab your bindings and adjust them.

You think to yourself, “Bother.”

You wearily reply, “We are listening, Master Mureyk.”

Mureyk says, “Even mighty knights such as yourself are not invincible. I hope this here proves you can be found if so wanted.”

Mureyk says, “But types such as yourselves also are not ones to care much for being told what to do.”

You give a sidelong glance around the area.

Mureyk says, “So I shall give you more simple reasons that even your likes can follow.”

You slowly admit, “Well, we don’t necessarily skulk about unseen and that.”

Mynon adopts an agreeable expression.

Mureyk says, “Cease your support at once for what is happening in the North.”

Speaking to Mureyk, Mynon asks, “Are you feeding those without food?”

Mureyk says, “We are doing what is necessary.”

You simply observe, “We’d like to hear your plan, then.”

Mureyk says, “There are hard times and they call for hard measures.”

Mureyk says, “So if you should fail to follow this message.”

Mureyk walks closer to where you stand, looking you both in the eye in turn.

You offhandedly add, “In fact, we did have a bit of a mind to parlay with you- reach an understanding, if you would, as to your intentions and motivations.”

You settle your gaze on Mureyk, watching him intently.

Mureyk says, “If you fail to do so.”

Mynon gets a blank look on his face.

Mureyk says, “Then I know people such as you have those you care for.”

Mynon stares at Mureyk.

Mureyk says, “We will find them.”

Mureyk says, “We will take them.”

Mureyk says, “We will hurt them.”

Mureyk says, “And if that is not enough to dissuade you, then we will kill them right in front of you.”

Mureyk signals to someone behind you.

You blandly remark, “That sounds not only unpleasant but unreasonable.”

Mureyk says, “I never said I was a pleasant man.”

You ponder the meaning of Mureyk’s existence.

Mureyk says, “I have made reasonable requests before. They have not be followed.”

Mureyk says, “So now I will make requests which even you shall understand.”

Mureyk says, “Do not test us on this. You will not enjoy the results.”

Mynon says, “If you consider allowing people to starve and freeze reasonable, then we are aware of what you consider reasonable.”

Mureyk says, “Say those who considered it reasonable to see a town destroyed to stop a man.”

You furrow your brow, probably adding a wrinkle or two in the process.

Speaking to Mureyk, Mynon says, “A story you seem to be seeing half of.”

Mureyk says, “Perhaps you are the one who does not see it all.”

Mureyk says, “And for now, you have seen enough.”

Mureyk signals again to someone behind you both.

You slowly counter, “That was not our intent.”

Speaking to Mureyk, Mynon asks, “You are aware of what his intent was, with that weapon, do you not?”

Mureyk says, “You can tell that to all those who died.”

You quickly plead, “The man was mad. He was going to sacrifice the lot of the north, possibly the whole of the empire!”

Mureyk turns away from you.

A hood is suddenly pulled over your head, making it impossible to see anything. Before you can react further, something heavy strikes your head, rendering your senseless.

You are stunned.

Mynon says, “Mureyk, you need to hear more than what pleases you.”

You feel hands grabbing you, dragging you away.

You feel yourself being pulled away…

[Outlands Manor, Well]

A fieldstone well stands in the middle of the manor yard, sheltered by its own wooden roof. A pulley hangs above the well, but there is no sign of the rope or any bucket.

Obvious paths: southwest

You feel yourself thrown to the ground, and the hood is ripped off your head, and bindings cut from your arms. You hear a voice say, “Best be listening to Mureyk if you know what is good for you.”

(Bristenn lurches forward, and coughs something up that looks much like a black hairball.)

You wheeze, trying to catch your breath.

Mynon slowly empties his lungs.

You gently brush your deep cordovan hair away from your eyes and, with a deft twist of your wrist, tuck it behind one ear.

You run a hand through your short-cropped deep cordovan hair, trying to make yourself presentable.

Mynon says, “We had a good idea. It seems he wants something else.”

You carefully remove your armored leather gauntlets and relax your hands, gently rubbing each palm in turn.

You rub your hand, trying to work the stiffness out.

You distractedly murmur, “Rather.”

You slowly add, “.. that also did not go as planned.”

Mynon adopts an agreeable expression.

You offhandedly remark, “Though I doubt, even without the Landing’s bloodthirsty gits present at the last caravan run, we would’ve been received any better.”

You tug on your armored leather gauntlets before raising your hands and clenching them into fists.

Mynon glances at you.

You hold up your hand and tilt it side to side in a so-so gesture.

You scratch your chin.

You think to yourself, “AH RIGHT, yes, there.”

Mynon says, “This is clearly not our domain. If this is more than banditry, which it seems to be, this belongs to Early Jovery.”

You rub your chin thoughtfully.

You slowly reason, “More than banditry, that much is certain.”

Mynon says, “But we may not have the benefit of his hand, in the time needed.”

You hold up your hand and tilt it side to side in a so-so gesture.

Mynon slowly empties his lungs.

You add, “The colors were suspect. Red and gold, even faded and muddy.”

Mynon says, “His age…”

You slowly agree, “About ours, I think. Little older.”

Mynon says, “Possibly a veteran of the Janatalatian troubles.”

You nod in agreement at Mynon.

As you ponder the colors, knowing they were those of Jantalar, you also wonder if anyone might know of this Mureyk. Assuming he spoke truthfully and the colors meant anything.

-james, bristenn’s player

You think to yourself, “FFF-“

A giant white bunny hurls a powerful lightning bolt at you!

You evade the bolt by a hair!