Quint's Caravan

[Quint Caravel]

Autumn, Day 21 , first light

After Quint exited the fine city gates of Syliras, the city of knights and squires that he was just in, he took a moment to reflect on the good times that he had once had in Stormhold Castle. It was a fine city and a finer castle, and he was going to miss it. He had spent a great deal of time there; he had even started the season there. But now it was time to leave. It was time to move on. It was time to mosey on his way.

He had been given a sign that he was to go to Sunberth. A sign from the gods or the ramblings of a merchant, there was no way to be sure. He did not know and he did not care. The important thing was not the past. It was not even the present. The important thing was the future. His future. His life was going to start once he got to Sunberth, he was sure of that. He had never really felt at home in Syliras surrounded by all the knights and squires and guards and soldiers and whatever else was in there. No, because he was a free spirit. He needed to roam around, to have the open road ahead of him and the wind at his back. He needed to travel and be free, without recognizing anyone as his boss or having to obey the rules and regulations of a place made up 500 years ago, or whenever the city was founded.

Of course he had to respect the city: it housed the Mint, and he was a devout follower of Xyna and all things related to coin and money. Mr. Quint Caravel was not a greedy man by any stretch of the imagination but he liked spending money and in order to spend money you had to have money and to have money you had to make money. Literally. This was his eventual goal.

And to follow that goal he needed to hone his skills. He didn't feel comfortable doing that in Stormhold Castle in Syliras where he was liable to get arrested before he could blink just for practicing his various techniques. No, he needed to go to a place like Sunberth where he could figuratively get away with murder.

But how was he to do that? He was not some wizard that could transport himself across vast distances or fly in the sky on a magic rug. (Stories he had heard, but they remained unsubstantiated blatherings of drunken sailors.) He was not a knight or squire with a horse he could borrow and go galloping along hither and yon. He was, to put it rather crudely, a complete nobody.

Still, he was having a better day than the fellow down the road in front of him. That man stood in front of a horse that was tied to a broken cart.

"By the gods, what am I going to do?" wailed the man.

[Quint Caravel]

The man with the broken cart was old, at least in his thirties or forties. He was short and bald except for a fringe of hair around his eyes, and he wore a white shirt with a tan vest. He also had on pants and boots, but they were plain and ordinary looking.

The old man leaned on his pick, starting at his horse. "What can I do?"

The horse shrugged. Somewhere down the line it had a Kelvic great-great-grandfather and was a bit smarter than most horses.

Quint thought that this might be a good chance to steal the man's pick. He would pocket the pick. After all, he was a bit of a pickpocket.

He strode up to the fellow and stretched out his hand. "Hello, good sir! In the name of Xyna, I greet you. I am Quint Caravel."

The old man crossed his hands over his chest. "Who is Xyna? I don't know who that is."

Quint thought this was a good opportunity to spread the good word about his goddess, and perhaps gain another prospective member of his congregation. "Xyna is the goddess of the Mint. She is the reason we all exist in the civilized world today."

The old man blinked and took a step back. He had a dubious expression on his face and was clearly pondering if Quint was in need of medical attention. "The who of the what?"

Quint let out a deep sigh, and began to speak in a deep, slow voice, enunciating carefully. "The mint. M-I-N-T. In the castle just behind you. They make Mizas. And Hars, I think. But definitely Mizas."

The old man scratched his belly. "I really don't care about any of that. I am a traveling merchant, a tinker by trade, and I go from city to city plying my wares. But I won't be able to do that with a broken cart. If I have to travel by foot I will be in serious danger."

Now it was Quint's turn to look suspicious. They were standing in front of gates that housed many guards and above them, many archers. "Danger? How so?"

The old man's eyes widened and he spread his hands out to his sides, slowly lifting them. "Yes. Immense danger. This is a very dangerous wilderness. There are monsters and creatures that you don't want to meet, not to mention rogues and brigands and highwaymen."

Quint raised a hand. "Rogues and brigands and highwaymen?"

The old man stomped his foot. "I just asked you not to mention them!"

Quint lifted his palms up and apologized. "Sorry about that, my good man."

Now the old merchant man took a step forward and lowered his voice. "And these are just the things I have seen with my own eyes. Who knows what other dangers lurk here?"

Quint thought about it. "I really don't know. I can honestly say I know nothing about the wilderness. Absolutely nothing. I am not a novice at it. I am not competent at it. I am not skilled in wilderness travel at all. A complete tenderfoot."

This made the old man grunt. "Huh. That's more than I can say for myself. How silly of me to let my cart sink into this pothole. Now the axle is broken and there is a very good chance I will die of starvation right here, perhaps even now as we speak."

Quint had not forgotten that they were in fact standing directly in front of the castle gates, their conversation no doubt being listened to by a bored guard or two. "You're a very sarcastic fellow, mister...." Quint realized that he had not gotten the man's name.

"Snark. Jason Snark. My father was a Snark and his father before him. When you call someone snarky, you're saying that they act like a Snark. And that's me."

"I've never called someone snarky. Sarcastic maybe, but that's hardly the same thing."

As they were talking, another man exited the gates. This man, however, was driving a wagon. "Gentlemen, please get out of the way. I have a schedule to keep."

[Quint Caravel]

Quint looked at this new man for a moment. "I am Quint Caravel. And this is Jason. Who are you and where are you going?"

The man gave him a look that indicated he had already been questioned by the guards and was in no mood to answer.

It was time to negotiate from a position of strength. "I'm just asking because I want to know why we should bother getting out of your way. I mean, our moving is directly proportional to how important you are."

The man in the wagon conceded the point. "A persuasive argument. I am Freddy Wintersnow. I am taking a load of supplies up the road a day's ride. There's a small place there, barely a tavern, but the knights and others who guard this road stop there over-night." He pulled out a map and showed it to Quint and to Jason Snark. "See here? As it is exactly a good day's ride away from here, it was the natural place to set up a small camp. And that eventually led to a small building, the Kabrin Inn."

Quint nodded at the man's explanation. He thought Freddy was very good at expounding on basic facts that were more-or-less obvious but were worth pointing out anyway.

He rubbed the stubble of beard on his face and pondered what to do with the information he had been given. He had no skill in reading maps, but he accepted that the man in the wagon knew what he was talking.

"Going to a wilderness inn, huh?" Quint thought this was a stroke of good fortune. He attempted to play along. "Say, friend, I am heading that way. Can I come with you?"

Freddy held out his hand firmly, exactly as the guards behind him often did.

"No. This wagon has all sorts of supplies. Food. Perishables. Picks. You seem the sort of person who would try and pocket all that stuff. Or at least the picks."

Jason nodded in agreement. "You do have that sort of tough-guy roguish look to you."

Above, high in the skies, there was a peal of thunder. The first one. But it would not be the last. Quint was a sailor and always knew when it was going to rain: when he had just washed the family casinor or when he was about to start a voyage somewhere.

Quint tried again. "I really need to get out of here and start my overland voyage to Sunberth, and I can't do it by foot or I'll arrive in Summer of 515 or something crazy like that. So I need a ride."

Freddy thought about it again. "That's a very persuasive argument."

Jason nodded agreement. "Yeah."

"So I can come?" He plastered the patented Caravel smile on his face.

Freddy shook his head. "No."

Quint tried a third time. "Oh come on!? Please?!"

That seemed to do the trick. Freddy the wagon-master paused to take a sip from a silver flask. "Well, you said please."

"So I can come?"

Freddy shook his head. "No. But you were very polite about it."

Jason agreed. "He's a courteous fellow. And is some kind of priest or something, actually."

That drew the wagon-master's attention. "A member of the cloth, you say? Why didn't you say so, padre? I didn't take you for one of those Windoak monks, but I guess you're okay."

Quint felt that events were starting to spiral out of control, but in his favor, so he opened his mouth and then immediately closed it again, deciding to play along. Of course if he was going to play a holy man, he had to act compassionate. He lowered his head. "And of course we can't forget about Jason."

"No, I suppose not. Let's get that wagon of his fixed so he can get out of the way."

Jason shrugged. "Actually, I am heading in the same direction. If you help me, I'll join your party and we can all go together. Safety in numbers and all that."

[Quint Caravel]

And so it was agreed. Working together, the three men were able to fix the cart and they maneuvered it into position behind the wagon. They were just about to set off when a woman came riding out of gates. By her dress and appearance it was clear that she was a squire. She bowed to the three of them. "Good day, gentlemen. I am Ashley Brock, a brand new squire and I have been sent on a quest to assist the first merchant caravan I come across. Please excuse me, I was told that they were an hour or two ahead of me."

Quint smiled at Ashley. "You are in luck! We are that very merchant caravan. Ash, this is Freddy. Jason, this is Ash. Jason, you already know Freddy."

Squire Ashley looked at Quint with outright suspicion. "You hardly expect me to believe you, do you? The caravan I am meeting with has the Champion of Xyna with them, as they are escorting Mizas to the border."

Jason and Freddy both pointed at Quint. "No, that's him. He's got 4 Gnosis marks!"

"Yeah! I've seen them! He might even have 5 marks!"

"Six marks or he's not the famous Quint Caravel."

Squire Ashley shook her head again. "Gentlemen, stop speaking nonsense. I dare say this man has never been inside the Stormhold mint."

Quint felt very indignant at that remark. He had just been there earlier today, casing the joint for when he was eventually going to rob it and become the richest man in all of the provinces. "I have too, and I can prove it!"

He described everything he had seen and done in the Mint, explaining that his father and grandfather were both minters. Or maybe it was his grandfather and great-grandfather. In any event, many of his relatives were really employed by the mint, and he did in fact have an Uncle who was a Priest of Xyna, and other relatives who were or had been squires over the years. Predotir Caravel had been a female mercenary in love with the Dyre brothers who had had her heart broken when one married Nyaa (Quint forgot what her exact name was) and the other had gone off to found Stormhold. Had she stayed, Quint would now be part of a world-famous family of knights but the woman had instead married a metal smith and their family became part of the long line of minters.

Quint acted out his entire family saga and personal history, skipping over the bit where his father did something terrible and was banished from Syliras then ran off and married a female Svefra sailor woman.

It was enough to convince Squire Ashley of his story, and so she joined them. Quint was offered a ride, and the other three rode out into history and glory.

[Quint Caravel]

Day 22

They arrived at the Kabrini Inn with no problem, as this segment of the journey was rapidly patrolled by the Knights and squires coming in and out of Stormhold castle. Word of who they were spread rapidly, with the telling growing larger and more exaggerated as each merchant and tinker and tailor spread the tale.

By the time they did arrive at the Inn, three more wagons were waiting for them along with two mercenaries looking for work and a down-on-his-luck cook named Myers Chefferson.

It was just as well. Quint's dreams were troubled as they always were; it seemed like for the last two or three-- perhaps the entire season-- he had been dreaming that he was the host of some sort of Masquerade Ball where almost everyone in Mizahar was in attendance in one form or another, in one disguise or another.

He mentioned his dream to Myers the next morning and was assured that he need not worry, for High Priest Quint Caravel of the Temple of All Gods was somewhere around and would bless the party before they left.

Quint shook his head. "That's ridiculous. No one can worship all the gods at once, can they? How would that even work? I don't really know anything about it, but you have to figure some are allied, some are enemies and some are beyond mortal understanding."

Myers admitted that he did not know either and they would have to wait for the wise sage Quint to teach them the lore of such things.

Quint held up his hand. "Hold it. Don't talk crazy. Look, I'll prove it. I worship Xyna and my sister worships Laviku. There's no point in worshiping Laviku when you're on land. What's he going to do, create an ocean in the air and flood the world?"

Everyone laughed at this, agreeing that it was the dryest season they had seen so far. Some places were parched and on the verge of famine. Except for a few flashes of lightning and peals of thunder, the skies had remained remarkably dry the first three weeks of the season.

But Quint opened his mouth. And the heavens answered him. It began to rain. And it kept raining. And then it kept raining even more. And then things really started to get wet.

OOC based on this: Day 20: Syliras gets hit with the combined storms, causing heavy rains and minor lightning. Zeltiva is lucky enough to get a hot and sunny few days, but Nyka and Ravok experience slightly heavier precipitation, as well as increased fog levels for Nyka. Sunberth and Sahova have another minor rainstorm, with thunder and lightning in Sahova. /OOC

[Quint Caravel]

While he was sitting in the Inn waiting for the rain to stop, Quint decided to write a letter to his sister. Some seasons earlier she had taken the casinor and gone to Sunberth and he wanted to make sure that it would be waiting for him once he arrived.

He knew this was possible because earlier he had been having a cup of Leo Red tea, hot. As he was sitting there a man named Al Eons entered, carrying a bag of mail. At first Quint did not know who the man was or what he was doing, but he introduced himself and explained he was hired by the Knights to make sure mail was safely delivered throughout the land. The system had been started by a guy named Tony Dyre, and it was now called the Tony Express.

Quint thought the man was joking about this last part, but he saw that the fellow was serious about delivering the mail The fellow was also very affable, and soon Al Eons had introduced himself to Ash, Jason, Freddy and Myers. Quint felt sad that his Great-Aunt Predottir Caravel wasn't here; she would have liked this sort of gathering.

Al joined them as his secret pathway was currently rained out, and as he had some knowledge of local routes and of the safest parts of the wilderness he shared this with everyone but Quint who was taking a nap at the time. (Quint hadn't been sleeping well so he found himself napping quite often during the day.)

Once Quint woke up, he wrote a letter to his sister.

"Dear Xiva. All is well. I am now the leader of a motley crue of individuals who have banded together, and we call ourselves Quint's Caravan. Well, that is what I call us. As I appear to be the only one who can write, I have given us a schedule. We are going to travel to all the cities of Syliras one a time. I don't actually care what we do as I plan on getting off at the first stop, which is Sunberth. I estimate that as long as we stick to horseback I will be there in about a month and a half, plus an extra few weeks to compensate for the carts and wagons."

In reality, he wasn't the leader at all. That was apparently the wagon master. Quint had been hired on as a ramrod, a stationary guard who sat in one of the wagons and guarded it from the inside while the mercenaries and squire rode up and down the perimeter. This was useful as Quint did not actually have any combat experience at all and was hoping that the real guards would do all the heavy lifting when it came to fighting. The pay was abysmal, a few Miza for an entire week, less than what he would make if he was employed as a porter in a city. But he got to sleep in the wagon and eat Myers' terrible cooking, so it all worked out.

Except for the day two months later in the third month when, approaching Sunberth, they realized he didn't have any gnosis marks and everyone beat the crap out of him and threw him overboard. But that is a tale for another thread.

-- End --