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A new recruit?

Tags: Brev,  bandits

Short Summary: A man tracks down the bandits and claims he wants to join them.
Date (real-life): 2010-08-24
Scene Location: Breelands: Near the Midgewater Marshes
Date (in-game): Sept/Oct 3050
Time of Day: Night
Barren Country: Near the Midgewater Marshes

The landscape here is featureless and dull. A few sparse grasses cover the flat plains that stretch on to the north and the west. To the south, the trees of the Chetwood forest are visible, yet are some distance off. Eastward, the plains crash headlong into the mess of the Midgewater Marshes, with the land getting less and less solid the closer one gets to the swamps and bogs of Midgewater. A faint path leads away to the west, though who or what could have made it in this desolate country is not a thought to dwell on...

Obvious exits:
West and East

                      Dunland Time and Weather Forecast

Real Time is:       Tue Aug 24 14:51:29 2010
IC weather is:      Wind:  - Clouds: moderate
IC Moon is:         New
IC time is:         Midnight <about midnight>
IC date is:         Hevensday, Day 5 of October in the year 3050.


[Nob(#16122)] It's late. Stars glitter overhead, a few blotted out by clouds. And here at the edge of the Midgewater Marshes, in a low fold of the land, a few small fires burn. There are some rough tents set up, but more men are just lying rolled in blankets on the ground. Several are awake though, and watching - though they may have gotten rather careless. No one has found them, after all, despite the feverish hunting of the dwarves and the double-crossing of some of their own. And more men are trickling in still; though fewer and fewer, and none at all in the past two days.

A burst of slightly off-key whistling sounds from somewhere off to the south - rather loud whistling, in fact. Someone is approaching the area, and making no secret of it.

At first the shifting clouds make it hard to pinpoint the whistler's location, but then a sliver of moon breaks through to reveal a man taller than most Breefolk, if not quite rivalling a Ranger in height, and clad in a tattered brown cloak. Lank dark hair is pulled back from his face, but the features below are part-obscured by a few weeks of straggling beard growth. The bulge of his cloak suggests there's something beneath - not his hand, though. That is at his side, a length of cord looped between the fingers.

He halts, sniffing at the smoke-smell on the air, and then calls out deliberately, "Evening. Anyone there? If there is, I might just have a proposal for you." There is the glitter of eyes as he turns his head this way and that, no doubt wary of the anticipated response.

[Nob(#16122)] Some of the sleepers grumble or shift in their blankets; one man goes so far as to stick his head out of his low tent. But the guards are up, hands on battered swords or spears, spreading out suspiciously. "Yeah?" says one. "What if we don' want no proposals?"

"Who are you?" demands another. "How'd you find us?"

Moments pass, and no arrows whizz. A good sign, surely?

The traveller turns his face toward the first challenger, and one side of his mouth pulls back in a half-smirk. "Then we go our separate ways. After we find out if I'm faster with a stone than you are with that spear." He eyes said weapon suspiciously. "Pity."

The other question brings a shrug. "Educated guess. Plenty of places you weren't. And I'm .. oh, a little of this, a little of that. Brev's the name. Figured I'd stop by, given we're in the same trade and all that." It's becoming more noticeable that his speech has an odd, singsong quality to it, an accent of some sort.

His stance appears relaxed as he waits his answer - though the moonlight glints off his brow.

[Nob(#16122)] "And what trade might that be?" asks the first man, distrustfully. The man with the spear raises it at Brev's 'threat', but doesn't attack. Yet. The third eyes the stranger's cloak. "What've you got under there?" he asks bluntly. They all take another step towards Brev.

Brev lifts a brow at the raised spear, and casually draws back his own arm, taking a step back in the process so that he and the guards are no closer to each other. "The acquisition and moving of goods?" he suggests lightly, doing his best to maintain an air of indifference. "Partner and I have a few items to .. ah, dispose of, through the proper channels, and Bree's been a little, shall we say unwelcoming?, of late."

He pauses before answering the final question. "You mean 'sides a throwing-spear? Which, you'll note, isn't in use," there is the brief flash of a smile. "Consider it a goodwill offering."

[Nob(#16122)] One man snorts. "Unwelcoming," he says. "I likes that. We got us a man of ed-U-cationing here, boys! Why, did you hear how he said that? 'Unwelcoming'!"

"What items?" the first asks, still suspicious. He rolls his eyes at the other man's laughter. "An' how d'we know you won't just go trotting back and telling everyone where we's at?"

Brev's lips twitch at the first comment. "Fine, so they want to lock me up. Same thing - but you must admit the first sounded prettier."

The first bandit's question is met by a shrug. "Pipeweed. Grain. Brought along free samples of both." He forces the side of his mouth into a smirk. "And as for the other, that's easy. Just -" He breaks off, eyeing the bandit doubtfully. "It's you who makes the decisions, is it, eh?"

[Nob(#16122)] But the man shakes his head. "Naw," he says. "He's sleepin', though. I makes decisions about who t'let in at night." He gives Brev a gap-toothed grin. "It's me you got to convince to see him."

"Right." Brev nods, seemingly unperturbed by the gap-toothed grin. "In that case .. lets see. On your side, figure you could use someone who's quick on their feet. Handy with sling and spear - knives too. Someone good at weaseling in and out of tight places. On mine - looking for a place to stay, and a way to get back at the Breefolk. Damn filthy-rich farmers and wretched little rabbit-men." He lets a little anger creep in there.

"In answer to your question ... Out here, don't see many folk to tell. There's the camp, or the marshes. And when the time comes to stir up trouble," he grins, "two's better than one. Or three than two. I'm sure I'd have plenty of company. Right?" He lets his gaze roam to the other men, though something about the stiffness of his stance suggests he hasn't yet dismissed any of these folk as 'safe'.

[Nob(#16122)] The one in charge looks over his shoulder complacently. It is true that if this fellow tries to stir up trouble, he is greatly out-numbered. "All right then," he decides. "Come on in. You can doss up there," he nods towards a bit of ground where no one else is lying - it is near to the fire, and coincidentally, there are people between it and the outer ring of the camp on every side. He flashes Brev another grin, and says with pious innocence, "And I'm sure I don't know why you'd be speaking of stirring up trouble like that!"

Brev glances toward the spot indicated, nods placidly. At the final words he contrives to look disappointed, but then, suddenly, he grins. "Because it's fun," he suggests, a light in his eye that's not altogether pleasant. "'Sides, it's harvest time and those folk have altogether too many sheep in their fields and apples on their trees. It's only fair to relieve them of the excess. Take from the rich to give to the poor and all that ..."

He starts to wander toward the fire, then stops. "Who's acting quartermaster? They might as well have this." He pushes back his cloak with his left hand (the fist of which is still clenched round a sling-stone), revealing that he has a couple of small sacks slung at his back, as well as the aforementioned shortened spear.

[Nob(#16122)] "Us'ns being the poor, o'course!"

"Over yon," the first man says, jerking his head towards a large kettle over the biggest of the small fires. "Set 'em there, th'cook'll take a look first off, morning comes."

"Of course," Brev agrees to the first comment.

At the first man's directions he nods and steps lightly across toward where the kettle bubbles, setting his burdens down not too near the flames. "This one's grain, this smaller's the weed. Long Bottoms I'm told. Not a smoker of it myself." He shrugs, then slips the slingstone back into his belt-pouch and begins fiddling with the strap holding the spear at his back.

[Nob(#16122)] It seems several of the guards are fond of a smoke though, for they look longingly towards the sacks. But the first clears his throat and scowls at them warningly. To Brev, and to the others, he says, "This here's the first rule. The Boss, he don't hold with thieving among ourselfs. You don't take nothing, th'out he's gone through it first and shared it out. He's fair enough, don't worry none on that. But he won't stand for folk grabbing stuff."

Brev keeps a straight face at the warning. "I'll remember that," he assures the man. "What the boss says goes." He yawns, and once his spear is freed he lets it clatter to the ground. "Figure I've got time to get some sleep before he needs to see me?" He looks ready to bed down then and there, leaving such subjects as where exactly his 'partner' and goods might be to wait until morning.

[Nob(#16122)] "Oh, aye," is the answer. "Won't be b'fore morning, for sure."

Date added: 2010-08-25 16:32:30    Hits: 62
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