Open Chronicles The Maraan Trail

[Smiling One]

An ordinary day. Willis took a good look at the docks of Elbion and saw the people going about their day, some went on well-worn fishing boats sailing on the riverbank casting their fishing rods on to the water.

Willis smiled, he loved fishing the thought of sitting against a tree casting the fishing line while observing the sunrise was relaxing. When he wasn't taking on high-risk contracts, Willis would find the nearest river and fish. He'd been fishing since he was a Pirate and hadn't looked back. Sadly the last Fishing Rod Willis had destroyed a month ago when he fought an Owlbear who ambushed the client he was protecting.

The client in question was a Gnome banker who needed an escort to Vel Amir. Willis remembered being skeptical of the Gnomes desire to go to the Human Fortress since its inhabitants tend to be distrustful to Non-humans at best and downright hostile at worst. Nonetheless, the Gnome paid well so Willis took the job hoping that the Gnome knew what he was doing. The trip went smoothly and the pair were rested near a river. Willis decided to catch some fish to cook for dinner. He was in the process of doing so until he heard the Gnome's bloodcurdling scream.

Willis quickly turned around to see the Gnome backing away from the Owlbear. Cursing himself for leaving his Cutlass at the camp, the monster slayer picked up his fishing rod and charged at the roaring beast jabbing it in the eye with the rod. The Owlbear recoiled in pain but countered by using its enormous beak and broke Willis' rod in half. It gave the young man ample time to grab his weapon. The Owlbear roared and appeared it was ready to charge but Willis took a rock and hit the beast in the head slowing down its momentum allowing Willis to rush in and slice his throat ending the beast's life.

Willis sighed while walked through the town, the job went smoothly but he couldn't get over the loss of his fishing rod. He made himself and took him months to find the right materials. Thinking about the rod depressed Willis and what better way to cure a man's depression than good old ale.

 

[Volker]

Volker had been signed up as a sellsword for a merchant. Not that he minded. It was better than assassination contracts, and as his mother told him, kept him fit. Not that Chaceledon would ever be caught dead jogging alongside a wagon. Horses, additionally, hated Volker. Horses, dogs, and other pack animals had a rather stern objection to any sort of madness. They could smell it on Volker like a demented cologne. It meant he’d have to keep a decent distance from camp if he didn’t want the horses constantly dancing at the end of a stake.

That said, he was looking forward to it. He was settled into an inn, just waiting for their contact to come and fetch him. He was forbidden alcohol, but didn’t mind a mug of tea. He drank quietly, checking over the impressive set of knives strapped about his thigh. They were razor sharp, he had gold and supplies in his pack, and was well-rested.

The one thing he wasn’t looking forward to was the requisite bullying that came from young guards. Though Volker was older, his eyes were bright and his shoulders were muscled enough to make wiser bandits look him over. If that wasn’t enough, a set of teeth and talent with a blade usually convinced people to leave him alone.

A road trip was always good for the men in his head as well. They appreciated the change of scenery, rather than the usual formula of ‘stalk, kill, collect proof’ they usually operated on.

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

Ale.

While not quite enough to be complete remedy for his depression, Kiros knew full well it's power to nonetheless treat it; a brief deliverance from woes brought by deity who didn't seem to give a damn. Yet through it all, there would always be temporary respite waiting for him at the bottom of a beer stein.

Today, he eschewed his standard robes for a simple white tunic, having no need for his holy garments in the city. Though the residents of Elbion may be used to mages strolling about in fancy clothes, Amol-Kalit was not far away, and that religious garb had a tendency to draw attention from Kaliti travellers wandering within the city. More than once, Kiros had found himself accosted by those from his homeland in search of divine guidance; and for today he had tired of playing the part of a priest.

Here at the tavern, the steady supply of beer helped ease the tension the prior day had brought. Having been bid by schedule to communicate with his deity Itra, he discovered Her in a foul mood. The resulting migraine She had inflicted upon him with had lasted the majority of the day. But it was at least over with, and now he had the maximum amount of time possible ahead of him before he'd have to speak with Her again. There were a few further blessings to count. At least the events at Elbion had not left him unemployed for very long, unlike many other unfortunate citizens. Sure, his shop had been destroyed and his wealth eliminated, but he had discovered the monster hunters who had accepted him. The result was enough coin for drinks, a steady supply of which Kiros continued to purchase while the constant chatter and noise of the tavern surrounded him.

Easing back in his seat with beer in hand and everyday clothes on his body, Kiros soaked up the moment of relaxing solace. Today was a day he could put himself at ease; a task well aided by the endless supply of alcohol available.

 

[Maton Kaiju]

(character name Meton Kaiju I just failed typing the thing in my sub account and Im just rolling with Maton from now on)

Maton had just arrived at the place he was contracted to be at. He was fully armed carrying his sword and shield while in his armour. This contract would take longer than many other "jobs" he had done recently but he did not mind. Especially given the pay. He just had to accompany and protect a caravan and its valuable cargo. It was a piece of cake. He wouldnt even be the only one protecting it. The cargo must have been too valuable for them to risk it with just one guard and given the pay..... It was a cargo worth risking your life to steal.

As much as Maton didn't want to admit it he wanted the carriage to get attacked so that he would have some fun and gain more renown and maybe even some followers so he can achieve his goal of starting an organisation. On top of that the merchants would surely talk to other merchants about his exquisite services and he would get more high profile jobs. Maybe even getting rid of people. Those jobs always pay well but that is because of the fact that they want you to shut up and not get caught. An equivalent exchange.

Trying not to waste time Maton scouted the area for possible places that could be used as a way to ambush the caravan before it leaves the city. After completing this basic procedure Maton looked around and tried to locate the ones that contracted him. This was going to be a nice payday.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

"Be careful with that!"

"Steady now!"

"'old up up fron'!"

Miriel ducked and weaved her way through the growing caravan that were preparing for the trip to Maaran. There was a mix of horses and camels and their smell mingled with the sweat of hard workers tying down goods or lifting luggage onto the little wooden carriages was strong even in the open air. Her sensitive nose crinkled as she slid her way through a group of particularly disgusting blue orcs who were noisily chewing on an unknown meat Miri would decidedly prefer to be left unknown. Despite the pungent air the elf walked with a smile. She loved caravans. It might have surprised many people to know considering the Horsemistress was famed for her speedy mounts in this area. Lightfooted and designed specifically for the savanna they were still nowhere near the beauty of the Seret horses but if someone wanted to purchase one similar outside the region, Miriel's horses were the next best option.

No, she loved caravans because of the stories they generated. Once a person lived as long as Miriel they began to appreciate more the tales that others could tell and the odd friendships that formed in these sorts of groups. When her friend had asked her to take the lead on organising it she had been more than happy to oblige. Said friend - a one Lorenzo Oretil - was a wealthy merchant heading home for the winter months to Maraan. It was his wares that made up the bulk of the caravan but the plump man shared Miri's love of meeting strangers - and loved the protection they offered more.

They were close to being ready to go.

"Hey, kid," Miriel called to a young girl sat swinging her legs on a create. She had the type of bored expression on her face that spelt trouble. She looked up when Miri called and cast her eyes up and down. The silver coin which the elf held however, changed her expression of boredom to one of interest. "Go tell the lazy louts in the pub it's time to saddle up. We're moving out in ten." With a flick of her fingers the coin sailed through the air which the girl snatched at and scampered off into the town. The elf watched for a beat or two to make sure the girl didn't veer off and pocket the cash before returning to her horse at the front of the Caravan. Thorlion was not designed for the sands but there was no other horse she would want with her on an adventure such as this. The winged horse had his wings folded away but even without them in view the strinking black stallion drew the eye. Especially in his new golden tack which he was proudly showing off to a nearby mare.

With a single jump she swung herself up into the saddle and waited for the loose ends to join them. Once everyone was there she gave the whistle and the caravan rolled out of town.

 

[Volker]

Volker waited quietly, until he was fetched by the young girl. The caravan was large, and he passed by slowly. Carefully. He eyed the horses and watched them pin their ears and shy at his approach. Horses and camels could smell black magic better than any far or man. Volker typically avoided riding for that reason. Prey animals didn’t like predators. He held his head high and snorted, approaching the front of the caravan.

The leader was mounted on a beautiful Pegasus stud. Volker eyed her, disapproving. Caravans needed to be quiet and understated, this was not a party. A flashy creature like that would only attract bandits, especially wearing that fancy tack. He shook his head.

“Dull your tack with mud or dung, that animal will attract the worst sort of thief.” Volker told her. “How many do we guard, and what goods do we guard?”

He kept ahead and to the side of the caravan, eyes to the road and ears directed behind him. Volker needed to keep away from those horses if they were going to keep their calm. A few of them were still crowhopping at the sight of him, trying to keep him in sight. Volker would prefer the Pegasus in the air, since there was a pronounced advantage there, but she would do as she would.

Volker eventually fell back and examined the others. If they weren’t given rations he would either have to find other travelers, since game would be chased away by the noise. Nothing he couldn’t source.

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

"Yes, I'll be right out"

He promptly downed the remainder of his ale before leaving the requisite amount of coin on the bar table. The young girl made her may towards the caravan; Kiros followed close behind, carrying his plain and barely decorated staff along with a meagre sack he had packed for his travels. His holy robes were among the sack's contents; and without them he likely looked rather unassuming. Not that he felt any concern; he was a monster hunter after all. Having been vouched for by the organization, his credentials would speak far louder than his appearance.

Not that the workers seemed to hold any awareness or care of the fact, tossing a parcel of luggage towards the priest they mistook for peer. Kiros caught the case out of reflex, before giving the man a confused look and simply passing it off to the another nearby labourer.

"I'm not here to pack." He spoke in explanation, simply continuing onward while the labourers hurriedly prepared for the caravan's imminent departure. Kiros himself took the oppertunity to prepare, finally donning his robes now that he was well outside the city, and moments from setting off.