(Wow, I know it had been a while, but I never would have guessed over a month since my last post... Sorry, I wanted to post an XP update when I moved things along, and hadn't really found the time to compile it.
Fendric 1250
Oliver 1225
Raven 1125
Nurthk 1100
Cylantro 1050
Cray 1025
Resuming play
Fendric said:
"Lord Vemaunt was most kind to grant us an audience on such short notice; would you please be sure to relay our gratitude when next you speak with him?"
"I shall, but 'tis of no need. Receiving guests is among His Lordship's born duties," Piersen remarks, "and, if I perceive it rightly, one of his favorite."
Sir Piersen departs only briefly, and returns with word of a morning departure.
...
Come morning (after adequately supplying your own horses) Piersen meets you again to introduce you to your "convoy," which is in fact made up of seven men, eight
very large draft horses (ten feet at the withers, you'd guess), and two substantial vehicles; the first, an open-topped cart with six wide rows of seats (you could seat at least thirty wide-shouldered men in it) running in tiers down toward the driver's perch. The other - your carriage - is about thirty feet long and ten feet wide, varnished wood of a deep red, bulging at the middle.
A man you'd guess to be the oldest among him (though he can't be more than 35) steps forward first, wiping his hands as the others continue readying the equipment. At his hip is a narrow, short sword, but aside from this his dress is that of a man at leisure: Light yellow tunic, with a pale grey cloak held in place by a single golden ring. (The others are dressed similar, and Hiritus quickly gathers that they are most likely lower nobleman of some none-too-important title.)
"Good morning," he offers amicably, although as he looks over your varied lot his face reads skepticism, perhaps even suspicion. "My name's Koehl, and I'll be headsman for the excursory -- not that it should matter much. As the crew here goes," he turns, gesturing to each man in turn.
"Federich Haulm will be
your driver," he says, pointing to a broad-jawed (but not particularly broad-shouldered) man knelt down checking the hitching of your carriage.
"Rattmes Olmbauer, our driver," a man in his mid-twenties with a pronounced swayback and an equally pronounced nose pointing out from under the loose tufts of his brown-blonde hair.
"Katter Ausmond's the handler," he says, indicating a husky young man in loose-fit garb, who appears to be taking quick inventory of the brief saddlebags adoring one of his stock.
"Brich Oerry..." Koehl pauses, searching for a good description. "Well, him and the rest of us are just along for the ride, I'd say." The man he points to is sturdy-looking, handsome, with curly brown hair and well-groomed chops. In addition to his shortsword -- which most of the others wear -- he has a rather fine longbow (fine-
looking, anyway), the string of which he currently seems concerned about.
"Sturt Bommel. He'll pluck his
brodstren until you plead he cease, but he ain't bad at it." There is an instrument not unlike a cello in the back of the cart, but currently the man Sturt is dividing into parts a healthy sack of cured meat.
"And that," Koehl concludes, pointing to a knob-kneed teenage boy who seems far too concerned with looking busy, "is young Harrold Mandervot. Bark him around if it pleases you... If I'm not mistaken it's his first time travelling in service, so it'll do him good to work his legs a bit."
Introductions done, Koehl shows you around the carriage quickly. It is split into three sections, the frontmost being a small sitting room lined by a single shelf carrying a brief but motley collection of books; the centermost being the tallest of the three, lined by bunks four to the side (each more spacious than you could have expected, and with both a curtain and a door available to pull down for privacy); and the rear containing a table and two benches, as well as a set of shelves and cupboards containing a surprising array of food and drink, above which (accessible by a very narrow staircase) is an open-air deck lined by benches and featuring a shallower table, as well.
"This will be yours until Perlech, although some of us will be parting ways in Keimund, and you'll be joining a convoy for the rest of the travel." He smiles with a vague hopefulness. "We should be off in a few minutes. Come to me with any questions in the meantime."
