Mardet Palomel leaned back on his shovel, wiping his brow and looking over the morning's work. They had been digging hard for hours, and what they had to show for it was a trench about six feet deep, six feet wide, and twenty feet long.
They still had a good couple of hundred yards to complete before the ditch that ran around the outside of the palisade was complete. Other teams were digging here and there in the gap. It was back-breaking work, and Mardet was loving ever minute of it. Even his name was great; no longer "Sergeant Palomel", he was just plain Mardet again, for the first time in years.
Image by Ute Friesen from Pixabay
Rickard grinned at him, "Come on ! No slacking soldier, we can do another couple of feet before lunch."
"Yeah, okay. At least we're breaking an honest sweat doing this, I'm not missing the scorching Sarassid sun even in the slightest. Never thought I'd say it, but I don't even mind digging in the rain."
This was a green, lush landscape, a far cry from the desiccated sandy plains of Lymbrium Nomoth Klasmet. The rain that kept it green was a delight after months of sunburn, although Mardet wondered if he'd still feel the same when the land was under two feet of winter snow. He'd been part of the party which had scouted the land nearby, and seen the jagged peaks of a mountain range just four or five days north which kept their caps of snow even in summer.
The settlement itself sat atop the crown of a low, even-sided hill next to the river. They'd picked the location because it gave a clean water supply and when the water wasn't too high, this part of the river could be forded, making it a natural (although far from safe) route from Filrath a week or so to the east to the city of Magoran a month or more to the west.
As he dug, he sensed eyes watching. Looking up, he saw a party of the local savages watching from a hundred yards away. There were maybe half a dozen of them, clad in furs and cloth woven with clashing patterns of brown, green and mustard yellow. The tips of spears could be seen through the drizzle.
"Yes, I've seen them, too," murmured Rickard. "They're just watching, looking for an opportunity. Not enough of them to muster the courage for a serious attack, they're just hoping we'll put some tools down long enough to run in and steal them."
Mardet drew the longsword at his waist, sliding it easily from it's oiled scabbard. He raised it high, then lowered the point towards the watching locals and shouted as loudly as he could "Away with you ! Go on, piss off !"
The two friends laughed as the barbarians decided that for today it probably wasn't worth the risk, and slinked away another fifty yards. Then they carried on digging.
Sir Walter poured everyone around the table a goblet of hot mulled wine, the aroma of alcohol and spices filling the air.
"So, my friends, tell me how it's going. What is good about our new home, and what problems do we have ? Gilbert ?"
Gilbert Hamhand had been senior lieutenant when they'd been a mercenary company, and had fallen naturally into his new role of being in charge of the defence of their new settlement.
"Quite simply, Sir Walter, we need more men. There are forty of us. Every man is a veteran and everyone is working as hard as they can, but it's hard splitting our force to try to do everything; building defences, putting together the houses, forage for materials and supplies, and watching those infernal savages. They're getting bolder, it is like we're a magnet for them. They're not Jagvar, but clearly some kind of kindred to them. We've seen goblins and orcs at a distance as well, although so far haven't had any trouble from them. But for good news, the palisade is complete and the outer ditch should be done in the next couple of days."
"Hmmm, how many times have they attacked ?" asked Sir Walter.
"Only twice on the town, but half a dozen of our foraging parties have had run-ins with them. No casualties, but we've had a couple of men wounded."
Sir Walter turned to the next man, someone as broad around the waist as Gilbert the half-giant was tall. This was Walvis Seaborad, former quartermaster and now in charge of the town's stores.
"How are we off for supplies, Walvis ?"
The man grunted, and looked at his notes. "So far pretty good. We bought a huge amount with us, and we've only used a fraction of it. But unless we can secure the immediate locality we're going to have trouble getting a crop sown and harvested, even if we can find the workforce."
"Miranda, how are things with the women and children ?" Sir Walter asked next. Miranda was the only woman in the room. She had been the wife of one of the men, Henri of Enrieme. He'd picked her up in Ciudad Cassaro (or maybe she had picked him up, it depended on which version of the story you believed), and she'd stayed on as a camp follower to the company after he'd been killed in a skirmish halfway between Thenitos and Peldar. She had blossomed here, becoming a natural leader to the camp followers who had joined them in the new settlement.
"We're doing well, Sir Walter. The new covered way down to the river is making water collection far safer. A couple of the children have been fishing, and have given us a steady supply of fresh salmon as a nice change from salted beef." She glanced pointedly at Walvis before carrying on. "We've been able to pull clay from the river bank so we've got a nice little pottery going, as well as a workshop spinning the flax from along the river into linen. But we'll need an escort if we have to go much further afield to gather the resources."
Image by Manfred Schulte from Pixabay
The last man at the table cleared his throat. It was Brother Marnag. Nominally a battle-priest of Hextor, he definitely focused on the battle part of his title, and was possibly the most ungodly man Sir Walter had ever met. But in his gruff way, he had worked wonders carrying out pastoral care within the company.
"I hope you don't mind, but I sent word to a couple of old friends in Werchen to see if they'd like to come out here. They aren't experienced warriors, but I reckon we could still do with the manpower. Taran might be a pretty average fighter, but he's a damn good stonemason. Figured we might need one of them sooner or later. Oh, and Keren his brother can't fight at all, but will happily swing a hammer all day long if we give him a forge."
Sir Walter thought for a few seconds, then replied. "Very good thinking. We don't just need warriors, we need every kind of skill that will turn this from a fort into a proper town. Although we'll need more warriors as well if we are to clear out all the barbarians, orcs, goblins and who knows what else. Write to anyone else you know who could send people this way. We don't want it to happen too fast, we still have to keep everything under reasonable control and make sure we have enough supplies, but I think it's time to open this land up and stamp our mark on it."
"Yes, sir !" said the priest. "Oh, and one other thing. We've just been calling this place The Town, or Our Settlement. But a few of the men seem to have given us a name, unofficially. It's what they have been calling it among themselves. So I think we have a name for our new town. Garley's Rest."
DM's note:
This is where the story has been leading us to; the mercenaries have retired and become civilians. They have stuck together and started to create the town of Garley's Rest in a previously wilderness area.
The idea is to make the town the hub in a somewhat Westmarches style game. It won't be pure Westmarches, because it fits into a pre-existing homebrew world rather than existing in isolation. It'll be interesting to see where it goes !
In my next post in the series, I'll try to outline a few thoughts on how the game itself will work.....
If you'd like to read the previous parts of the series, here are the links to the Hive posts;