The Gerrik Republic

"Gerrik is close by and unlikely to mount much of a defense against us and there are plenty of non humans to choose from. I say we start there," you decide.

Cawse nods in agreement. "My only concern is all the bandits and orcs running wild."

"They are easy enough to avoid, and worse case scenario, it will be good for us to have a good couple scraps to build our unity as a team." Cawse nods, confident in your military expertise. Despite your age, you've studied war extensively since your youth, and have already been a part of a number of campaigns against Northern raiders and orc war bands. The two of you continue talking and planning for hours before you decide it's time to go to sleep. "Make sure the men are up and ready to leave at dawn. We have a long journey ahead of us." With that, you throw a gold coin on the table and depart for your room. As you walk past Lynn's door, you hear muffled, animaliatic grunts and feminine moans of both pain and pleasure. You grin to yourself. Sounds like the twins inherited quite a bit from their troll father. There is a slight pang of regret from missing out on the fun, as with your enhanced size, you wouldn't feel ashamed next to even a full blooded troll, but you feel much more comfortable with your plan after talking to Cawse. Besides, you need your rest. Once in your room, you're asleep before your head hits the pillow.

The next morning your eyes shoot open an hour before sunrise, as you had been doing since you started your knightly training. It takes very little time to pack your meager belongings and go downstairs, waiting for a short while before they begin to appear. You issue out orders to your sleepy men and await the newcomers.

Lynn arrives first, which isn't suprising given that she was sleeping just upstairs. Also unsurprisingly, given what you heard from her room last night, she is walking tenderly with a slight limp. Despite that, she is cheerful and clean, with her belongings packed in a chest. Barley and Ansel are hitching their teams and preparing to leave. Dylan and Forde, perpetually together, and the only other mounted men in the caravan, besides you, ride up, seeming eager to get going on your adventure. Cawse arrives with Pietro, deep in some discussion or another, as they throw their packs into Barley's wagon. Jordan arrives with his mother, who is yawning, the most tired seeming of the bunch, half dragged by her son.

Frowning, you realize that a member of the party is missing. "Has anyone seen Weylan?" you loudly ask the group.

"I'm here, milord," comes a quiet voice right at your elbow. You curse and nearly jump out of your saddle.

"How long have you been there?" you demand.

He shrugs. "Some time," he answers, joining the rest of the group. Even with your heightened senses, you had no idea he was there.

You sit upright in your saddle to speak. "I see we are all here, now." Cawse snickers at your expense. "Then let us set out. We make for the Gerrick Republic, from where we will return rich with gold and women." Your little pep talk wakens the group up slightly and a few applaud as you lead the way down the path to riches and glory, or so you hope.