McIan
Journeyman
As they walked along the wide dirt roads of Papua, many of its citizens whom they knew from time past, greeted Scar and Deminatza with a smiling wave or cheerful words of welcome. Scar watched her face looking for signs of pained empathy and saw it flash occasionally, but for the most part she maintained the positive outlook of the ever-helpful, ever-hopeful, consoling spirit. He was happy about that.
They could see defensive works in the making: forest clearing in a semi-circle around the town on three sides, as on one side, the east, was a waterfront; wooden block houses, and pit traps. The archon, his guards, and a few lesser officials, met them upstairs at the pier 39 building which long ago served as his office when he was archon himself.
“It is good to see you again, Lord Scar and Lady Deminatza!” the rotund man exclaimed when he saw them. “You are always welcome in our fair town! Surely you have come to aid us in our hour of need?” He shook their hands heartily and repeatedly.
“We have, Magistrate, though not soon enough,” Scar replied. “I must apologize as my attentions had been drawn to Delucia where the problem began. I wish I had had the foresight to have come here to warn you all. I feel I have failed you.”
Goodsen, the archon, shook his head and released his grip on his hand. “You did not fail us. We knew of the situation in Delucia already, and when the caravan guard was killed, it drew us in. We just did not know how much danger we were in.” He led them to a large table where they all sat down. Before he did, he took out a large rolled up map, unrolled it, and spread it on the table before them all. “This shows our current activities. The circles in black are completed works. The ones in orange are in progress, and the red ones are in the planning stage. As you can see, we have almost half of them done.”
Scar and Demi scanned the map. Scar pointed to an area north of the town. “This is the weakest link,” he commented. “Why is that?”
“Oh, that, well, the attacks came from the south so we wanted to be sure defenses were in placed there first. We will get to those later on,” Goodsen replied, his officers nodding approval.
Scar stroked his goatee slowly. “Normally I would agree with your decision, but these creatures are not mere timber wolves. They have an unnatural, evil, cunning. They do not randomly kill for food but seem to enjoy the thrill of the hunt. They will be probing the defenses and will find this weakness, I guarantee it. I suggest establishing more guard patrols there until adequate static defenses are erected.”
Goodsen nodded. “Agreed. I will see to it immediately! What else do you suggest?”
Scar knew this was going to be a long day. “Give me a moment, and an ale, and I will tell you,” he stated. Then he turned his attention to Deminatza. “What questions do you have for the archon, milady? Or suggestions? I am sure they need your guidance and wisdom to prepare healing and injury stations, supplies, and trained personnel.”
They could see defensive works in the making: forest clearing in a semi-circle around the town on three sides, as on one side, the east, was a waterfront; wooden block houses, and pit traps. The archon, his guards, and a few lesser officials, met them upstairs at the pier 39 building which long ago served as his office when he was archon himself.
“It is good to see you again, Lord Scar and Lady Deminatza!” the rotund man exclaimed when he saw them. “You are always welcome in our fair town! Surely you have come to aid us in our hour of need?” He shook their hands heartily and repeatedly.
“We have, Magistrate, though not soon enough,” Scar replied. “I must apologize as my attentions had been drawn to Delucia where the problem began. I wish I had had the foresight to have come here to warn you all. I feel I have failed you.”
Goodsen, the archon, shook his head and released his grip on his hand. “You did not fail us. We knew of the situation in Delucia already, and when the caravan guard was killed, it drew us in. We just did not know how much danger we were in.” He led them to a large table where they all sat down. Before he did, he took out a large rolled up map, unrolled it, and spread it on the table before them all. “This shows our current activities. The circles in black are completed works. The ones in orange are in progress, and the red ones are in the planning stage. As you can see, we have almost half of them done.”
Scar and Demi scanned the map. Scar pointed to an area north of the town. “This is the weakest link,” he commented. “Why is that?”
“Oh, that, well, the attacks came from the south so we wanted to be sure defenses were in placed there first. We will get to those later on,” Goodsen replied, his officers nodding approval.
Scar stroked his goatee slowly. “Normally I would agree with your decision, but these creatures are not mere timber wolves. They have an unnatural, evil, cunning. They do not randomly kill for food but seem to enjoy the thrill of the hunt. They will be probing the defenses and will find this weakness, I guarantee it. I suggest establishing more guard patrols there until adequate static defenses are erected.”
Goodsen nodded. “Agreed. I will see to it immediately! What else do you suggest?”
Scar knew this was going to be a long day. “Give me a moment, and an ale, and I will tell you,” he stated. Then he turned his attention to Deminatza. “What questions do you have for the archon, milady? Or suggestions? I am sure they need your guidance and wisdom to prepare healing and injury stations, supplies, and trained personnel.”