the name still brought a chuckle to his lips in a wash of irony that held little humor. Brinewall was going to be the buffer zone between the interests of Cheliax and the tribal home of the Huho’tach Maudi, therefor it needed to thrive and prosper if it was going to be of any use to his people. The green walker still held a great deal of affection for the folk of this town, but he also realized with a note of finality that would never truly be one of them. What was worse, in the fullness of time and twisting of fate, he may have to contend with the very people he was helping if Brinewall’s growth continued like a wild bramble. The Children of the lawgiver had a long and bloody history with those people who held themselves apart from what many considered to be “civilization,” and Sa’hetna had no intention of defeating the Iron Consortium, only to have Brinewall rise in its place and look hungrily towards his tribe.
It was already a well known fact throughout the town that he hated coins, mostly because of the constant vigilance that was required by the illusion and deception which swirled about them. With coins you could hide the value behind a wall of metal and a veil of lies which was navigated for even the simplest of purchases. It was an invented layer of barter that opened a myriad of possibility for those of a duplicitous mind, something that was never in short supply among towns and cities. So he held himself apart, kept to the grove or the camp, and enjoyed the quiet solitude of nature as often as he could. He was not considered lazy by any measure, but his priorities would always leave the folk of the town scratching their head in curiosity, which was the way he preferred to be seen.
The arrival of Bjorn Jarlsonn had been an unsettling shock, even though Thrindil had been delighted to see the town of Brinewall finally getting noticed. The only reason Sa’hetna accepted the position of councilman was because when settlers of different people came to the hills surrounding Brinewall, There would be an influx of foreign faiths, cultures, and ways of life that could the rip the reins from the hands of an unwary driver. He did not want to close doors to outsiders as his tribe had done, but a great influx of people before the threats of the countryside had been quelled could mean disaster. Furthermore, he did not know what the arrival of Bjorn’s people would mean to the enclave he was building for the Huho’tach. The simple fact was, they needed to be exposed to the world, but it had to be done safely with a measure of separation, so that his tribe could feel safe and know that their culture would be preserved even as they encountered the outside.
While the Ulfen were here, Zuristoi “The Passionate” found a long legged, golden haired, Shield maiden who spent almost the entire time with him, and became quite enamored with the bard. I suppose I should be grateful that the Varisi was keeping up relations with our potential neighbors, but I fear for his life if this towering woman warrior should ever cross paths with the many lovers he will attract over time.
Such warriors have a way of finding their own entertainment if such is not provided, so before future visits it might be best to focus some resources on building the “Copper Dragon.” This way, there will be a place for them to congregate and enjoy themselves without worrying the town overly much. I have noticed that there is something unique about a tavern which strikes at the heart of a town or a city. These places of congregation are as essential as any temple, for without them the people become dour and the town itself acquires a reputation for being cold and uninviting.
After the warriors had left however, we had decided it was time to take the fight to the Hobgoblins. If we were trying going to name ourselves the protectors of this town and claim any kind of authority within it, then it was only fair that we should back this authority up with action. We had scouted, but now it was time to turn that information into strikes against the hobgoblin infrastructure. We would waylay their caravans, kill their scouts and massacre the slaves who performed their work, all in order to delay the inevitable build up towards their attack. Eventually as we stung the beast enough times, it would turn and reveal its fangs, then we could either disappear into the hills if we were incapable of dealing with them, or settle the matter right then and there. I will not deny that I was eager, the hobgoblin threat had been looming over us from the beginning and few things unified the members of a hunting party like the blood of an enemy.
For over two weeks,we stalked the hobgoblin caravan’s like reavers and phantoms, leaving no trace of our victims. The purpose of this was two fold, one was to play upon the fears of our enemies, and the other was so that they would not be able to gather information about us from clues left in our wake. The more they learned about us, the more likely it was that they would develop a strategy specificially designed around our raids. We had to keep their commanders in the dark as long as possible, and simply bleed them until they could tolerate no more losses.. and sent their best to clear us out. Two weeks out on the trail has Threndil fit to be tied, but Zuristoi, Olly and I are in high spirits as we slaughter the hated hobgoblins and make them pay for every inch of ground.
I fear however, that as our campaign enters into its third week.. they will finally have their fill of our attacks.. and we will soon see them bear fangs.