Taxing the Disputed Lands

[Trot]

The village was a flyspeck really not more than a dozen goats a handful of hovels, and a few families. In truth it was a rather worthless village, the taxes gained from it minute, yet it rightfully belonged the House Bracken. Oh yes Blackwood controlled it now, but that was soon to change, Bormund was not going to let one speck of rightful Bracken land remain in the hands of the Bastard Blackwood. So today he sent tax collectors to collect his rightful incomes. It was only the first step in ending the Blackwood's once and for all.

[The Mad Skylord]

Ooc: Trot, why don't we make one big thread for our feud, we won't fight battles or anything in it, but it'll save us making a thead every time we want to clash.

[Gandalfus]

Riding from Stone Hedge, the party of men on horseback had been spotted by the villagers as they had made their way towards the small settlement.
Upon seeing the Bracken banners, the serfs grew wary, silence fell over the hamlet as the womenfolk hurried inside, presumably to hide themselves away. As the party approached, they were greeted by a toothless male in his late forties, thin brown strands hanging from his balding head, gripping a wooden stave. Other villagers edged forward behind him, prepared to bolt at any moment.

"Who are ye, travellers? What can we do for the kind sers?" He asked, watching them intently.

[Trot]

The head rider calls out, "This land belongs to house Bracken and it has come to his attention you have not paid the annual tax." The man calls out, "As such you will give up one tenth of all your yearly earnings to your rightful lord now." The man read from a scroll with the seal of house Bracken visible, "And due to the recent wars leaving a shortage of fighting age men, Lord Bracken is asking all men of fighting age to register there names to this list so that when conflict breaks out you may be called upon. He has expanded the fighting age to include men as young as 12 and as old as 50." The man speaking was stuffy dressed in a fine cloak, and spoke with a thin nasally voice. A fine clerk, and excellent tax collector, but not one to inspire men or the best at talking to them at all.

[Gandalfus]

"Ay? But we paid the annual tax! To Blackwood! This village lies just five miles north of the border, and it's been a Blackwood village since me great-grandsire's time..." He trailed off, mumbling under his breath about Blackwood through and through. Behind him, the villagers stood confused, obviously not understanding half of what was being read from the scroll.
"Aye, and 'av already been written down too, to milord Blackwood!" One of them called out, slightly incredulous.

[Trot]

The man with a nasal voice chuckles, "Blackwood lied to you and stole your money this land belongs to Bracken now. You hand over the tax, and sign your names, or the next time I arrive I will not be asking so nicely." Some of the men behind him chuckle darkly hoping they resist.

[Gandalfus]

"We don't know what silver stags we bring in every year, milord. I ain't good with numbers. We just work the land, milord Blackwood sends his men to check it." The elder one replied, scratching his lice-infested scalp with a dirty finger.
"We ain't much good at fightin' either, there's only fifteen of us menfolk around." He continued, rambling on about how all they pull up every year was a few dirty potatoes.

[Trot]

"We will take as much as Blackwood took, and each of you will put your name to the list, when a war is called you will be summoned to Lord Bracken's armies." The man says chuckling.

[Gandalfus]

"We ain't goin' anywhere, Lord, do you really need a list?" He said, with a shrug. The crowd had grown now, with women exiting the hovels to see what all the commotion was about.
"Well, we gave Blackwood a sack of grain and 'taters, I presumin' you want the same, Lord?" Another one added, a slightly shorter, younger peasant with black hair that curled like ribbons.

[Trot]

The man nods for the men to collect the 'tax'. "Yes I do need a list, every able bodied man will put there name down."

[Gandalfus]

"But we're illiterate goat ers, lord, or so Lord Blackwood's call us. All I know is how to dig 'taters." The man replied, before entering a hushed conversation with his peers. After a short discussion, the villagers reluctantly hand over a half-full sack of grain, and another full of potatoes, before whispering amongst themselves. Finally, their de facto leader (the oldest among them) turns around, and somewhat sheepishly addresses the taxman.
"Lord, before ya go... Could you mediate in our dispute? Seein' as Lord Blackwood's men ain't come for some time, we don't know what to do with Gobber 'ere. Ya see, he buggered Roger's wife, and then made off with their goat, but only 'cause Roger buggered his daughter, and stole his best knife, so..."

[Trot]

"Use the knife to cut off their manhoods and feed them to the goat." The man says dismissively and collecting the tax, "Those of you that can't write can have the scribe transcribe your name and then make a mark."

[Gandalfus]

Dutifully, the peasants lined up, slowly but surely translating some of their most unusual names for the scribe.
Pigfoot, Turdfinger, Lophanded Lommy, Scab... The list of names went on, until all fifteen had been listed, in some shape or form. They had got what they came for, a list of names, and two small sacks of rotten foodstuffs. Not exactly befitting of a hard days work.

"But, milord, she ain't even Roger's wife..." A man interrupted, before he was taken away along with another fellow. Screams followed soon after, then silence. The group moved out from behind the barn, looking slightly confused with the fact that the two men had both quickly succumbed to blood loss.

[Trot]

The party leaves it was not really about the names or the 'tax' it was the message this would send to Blackwood. Soon reports would come that Bracken tax collectors had entered his land and he would retaliate.

[Trot]

Bormund the brute marches at the head of a band of heavily armored men. Files marching in unison as the enter the Blackwood village. It was a midsize village with a moderate population, and it's control had long been a point of contention between House Blackwood, and Bracken. Now it was time to end that as Lord Brakcken's Men entered the village men ran to all sides of the small village, reading allowed to all who would listen.

This village is now under the control of House Bracken of Stone Hedge. You are all subjects of the Lord Bracken and are subject to all the rights and responsibilities that come with it. Do not resist and no harm will come to you.

Bormund chuckles at the villagers who were cowing in their hovels. He almost hoped some would try and fight back.

[Gandalfus]

(The way I see it, I doubt the peasants would care enough to rebel.)