GreyOne
Explorer
(Post-3rd game session, after the defeat of Visel and Leet at the marketplace in Eastfair)
A mark has passed since the brawl in the marketplace and three since your return to Eastfair and the conclusion of your agreement with the Lady Preda. The matter of the brawl was of course brought before the court of Rodvolo, the petty king of Eastfair. Had not the wise Khuritsa, uncle to Preda, represented and defended your position before the assembled petty nobles, you might not have been sitting on the uncomfortable wooden stools of the Red Merchant’s Hall as you presently were. The low murmurs of conversation and commerce fill the crowded room, within which you sit, and occasionally a drover or labourer guffaws or mutters loudly.
Leet, the thin-faced, sallow-hued scion of Rodvolo did not take the judgement of his father (however reluctantly given) lightly, and the word is that he will engage in vendetta.
Khuritsa has warned you to leave as soon as you are able. The matter of Joffer and Ghis has returned to the forefront of your thoughts. Inquiries again into the shadowy underpinnings of Eastfair have revealed only the clues already known. A figure of Joffer’s description has not been seen and that of Ghis, rode north with several others nearly 8 Marks past.
The words of Boian at your first meeting in Kotso return:
" I...remember a group of men arriving with the merchant Denek. Mercanters, I'm sure, but different from the rest. Strangers to this land. They..left with Denek on his way down the Fa'juk Road… these men you seek, they could be found easily enough. Traveling west, with a caravan. If you leave tomorrow you would overtake them at Felgot, perhaps ten days hard ride,"
Boian proved himself a traitorous snake, yet his words are the only clues you have. The western road out of Eastfair cuts through the marshes and joins up with the Fa’juk Road nearly fifty leagues northwest.
"Perhaps, brothers, it is time to forego this quest. A year has passed and we are no closer," whispers Nado, almost as if he himslef cannot bear what he is saying. He takes a long pull from his clay mug, the cheap mulled wine glistening on his lips as he finishes. Off in one corner a well-attired merchant is yelling obsenities to two others sitting before him. Their shoulders rise and fall with laughter.
A mark has passed since the brawl in the marketplace and three since your return to Eastfair and the conclusion of your agreement with the Lady Preda. The matter of the brawl was of course brought before the court of Rodvolo, the petty king of Eastfair. Had not the wise Khuritsa, uncle to Preda, represented and defended your position before the assembled petty nobles, you might not have been sitting on the uncomfortable wooden stools of the Red Merchant’s Hall as you presently were. The low murmurs of conversation and commerce fill the crowded room, within which you sit, and occasionally a drover or labourer guffaws or mutters loudly.
Leet, the thin-faced, sallow-hued scion of Rodvolo did not take the judgement of his father (however reluctantly given) lightly, and the word is that he will engage in vendetta.
Khuritsa has warned you to leave as soon as you are able. The matter of Joffer and Ghis has returned to the forefront of your thoughts. Inquiries again into the shadowy underpinnings of Eastfair have revealed only the clues already known. A figure of Joffer’s description has not been seen and that of Ghis, rode north with several others nearly 8 Marks past.
The words of Boian at your first meeting in Kotso return:
" I...remember a group of men arriving with the merchant Denek. Mercanters, I'm sure, but different from the rest. Strangers to this land. They..left with Denek on his way down the Fa'juk Road… these men you seek, they could be found easily enough. Traveling west, with a caravan. If you leave tomorrow you would overtake them at Felgot, perhaps ten days hard ride,"
Boian proved himself a traitorous snake, yet his words are the only clues you have. The western road out of Eastfair cuts through the marshes and joins up with the Fa’juk Road nearly fifty leagues northwest.
"Perhaps, brothers, it is time to forego this quest. A year has passed and we are no closer," whispers Nado, almost as if he himslef cannot bear what he is saying. He takes a long pull from his clay mug, the cheap mulled wine glistening on his lips as he finishes. Off in one corner a well-attired merchant is yelling obsenities to two others sitting before him. Their shoulders rise and fall with laughter.
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