DM Barcas - Kingmaker: Interregnum (Inactive)

Game Master Isaac Duplechain

1 Erastus 4708

Berrin Myrdal is miserable. He finds himself cursing Tandlara's idle suggestion that he act as Regent until they are able to secure a resurrection for Jemini. He had laughed it off at first, but the idea somehow got a hold of the others. One by one, they began to pressure him to accept the role. He sits in the chair in the center of the small wooden building they are using as a keep, which itself sits in the center of the small village that remains the unnamed capital of Newhaven. He is sore and tired of sitting. He would much rather be with the laborers, building the keep, or with the new soldiers that Akiros is training in the town square. The responsibility of being responsible is too much for him. He realizes that he has not been paying attention to the irritating envoy from Pitax currently addressing their makeshift court.

"As I was saying, King Irovetti would like to remind you of his claim to everything west of the East Sellen River. He wishes nothing but peace and prosperity between our realms, and pledges respect and friendship. Thank you." The envoy, a petty-looking man of little stature and even less charisma, enjoys a smattering of half-hearted clapping from the collected council.

Kesten Garess thanks him politely and ushers him out of the keep, with practiced words assuring him that Newhaven intends to respect Pitax's claims on that area. He returns a few moments later with a grave look upon his face. He sits back at his seat at the council table, a large plain wooden thing borrowed from Oleg's. "Pitax overestimates its claim to territory. Ever since Irovetti seized control of the kingdom, their lands have slowly grown after shrinking drastically in the fallout. Even at its apex, Pitax would be hard-pressed to claim land all the way out to the East Sellen. Now, their practical territory ends a hundred miles away! I fear that Irovetti is testing us, or at least predicting that we cannot expand as fast as he can."

Oleg and Svetlana Leveton sit next to each other. Svetlana idly rubs her husband's remaining hand, looking concerned at this. "We are getting settlers coming from all over the region, and some from as far as Galt to the south. If they think that Pitax might offer a better deal, they might just keep heading that way." She has taken to her new role fairly easily and with her usual cheerfulness. She listens to the people who come to Newhaven, tempted by the promise of land to call their own and the freedom to live in it as they see fit, and reports it back to the rest of their council. Oleg is quiet as he always is, looking over ledgers. His quietness is a good sign, as he would likely speak up if there was something amiss with the kingdom's finances.

If you want to be at the meeting, feel free to chime in. If not, it's up to you where you are and what you're up to. (Except Jemini, who is still dead.

The child whispers in Tandlara's ear softly, with a nervous expression, as if asking a stern aunt for a bite to eat. Tandlara smiles, and toussles the childs hair, before handing him a small toy from a pouch on her hip. He skips away happily, nothing but a merry child running wither and tither. Already such a could liar. Orphans take well to the hardships, and they love me as well as I love them. She smiles again, and it reaches her large green eyes. And they serve a purpose. They always do. We cannot escape that fact of life.

Tandlara had already started her orphanage, keeping the kids lost in the battle and the urchins who wandered in with the settlers fed and sheltered in a large wooden house. She set the older children tasks, and they thought the younger. They were her little pets, her eyes and ears.

There wasn't much to listen to yet. But their fledgling kingdom was growing and the reports the children made to Mother Crow kept the leadership informed of the goings on in ways Svetlana's honest communication couldn't. Widow Branet is stealing from Goodwife Hadveck. We cannot escape crime, it will flower with the kingdom.

Her new familiar quorked as he landed on her shoulder. Scareye served her aswell, though she couldn't help but be wary of the great black bird that had replaced her beloved Riddleskin. Her patron was watching, and Tandlara shuddered to remember what that regard had wroth. She continued to walk, passing Akiros as he drilled the men. Her eyes narrowed on the man, his sight and arms returned, now he seerved Newhaven. And no doubt would die for our kingdom. But I cannot forgive him his honor either.

Her circuit continued, spiralling inwards towards the central hall as she saw the envoy from Pitax leave, followed at a considerable distance by children playing at knights and knaves. Only one was an orphan though he steered the game, leading the pack of children after the envoy. Ever resourceful, my children are so clever.

Staring up at the sky, she felt a pang in her heart that Jemini was not here to share this with them.

“Yes, well as I have said to you all before, this is why we need to properly consider the additions of a proper inn, as well as a church and a general store, sooner rather than later.” Verik looks up from the table where he has just finished a few notes in a more hurried style than he would have liked, rolling up the scroll and setting it in a small stack of scrolls to his right. His voice carries a slightly irritable tone that is all too common these days as he peers at the unrolled map on the center of the table. “Pitax may be a pit to dwell in – pardon my expression – but they can boast of commerce more than we can, and commerce means opportunity and stability. If you all keep listening to Jhod, we’re going to have nothing around here but farms. Farms and farmland and one small marketplace that will be outgrown inside of a year. That and a keep. We can be the breadbasket of Brevoy all we want, but what good is it if we cannot bring merchants to market and craftsmen to stay?”

He sighs and waves his hand as he primly starts up again on a familiar argument. “I told you the center common area needed to be measured off a full one-hundred paces past where it is now, and that does not account for an area of craftsmen that do not need a frontage to the commons. The Manual of Building clearly states this as a common mistake that is made, with extra costs and disruption to expand it later…” Verik continues on until someone tells him to stop or he finally realizes he has gotten his say, and then sits down to pull out a fresh sheet of parchment.

"You're the last one, you know that?"

Miles away from the city, Taisper stands over a dying man, the last of the bandits who fled from the battle where the Stag Lord went to his final reward. Both of the bandit's legs are broken and there is an arrow shot straight through his shoulder. He has given up grasping at his sword, too far for him to reach. He rolls over and looks up at the golden-eyed young man who is barely out of his teens who has brought him down. "Just finish it. F+~!ing tosser. I ain't inter'sted in your preaching or bragging." There is a rustling in the shadows behind him. The bandit attempts to look but the pain is too great and he winces. "What's that? More of you? You can't do it yourself? Puny little s@$!. You're nothing. You're s$&~."

Taisper grins, and if it's a bit too wide, the man is too hurt to notice. "Hey man, hey I've got an idea. You know..." The inquisitor has taken out a piece of paper and made a slash through the final word on a small list. With great care, he puts the paper back. "...it was almost a year ago today that you ran. I got your other three fellow deserters pretty fast, but you! Man, you hid good. But your own impurity brought you low. You scofflaw. You malcontent. Heh. A year ago! Hey, you want to hear a joke?"

There is another rustling in the shadows, and now the heavy tread of an armored boot. Taisper pays no mind, and doesn't wait for the man to answer his question but instead launches into a joke. "So a priest is walking down a country lane and sees a young farmer struggling to load hay back onto a cart after it had fallen off. "You look hot, my son," said the cleric. "why don't you rest a moment, and I'll give you a hand."
"No thanks," says the kid. "My father wouldn't like it."
Well, this cleric he says "Don't be silly," he says. "Everyone is entitled to a break. Come and have a drink of water."
Again the kid, he says his dad, boy, his dad will be upset and give him a whipping. Losing his patience, the cleric said, "Your father must be a real slave driver. Tell me where I can find him and I'll give him a piece of my mind!"
"Well," says the kid, "he's under the load of hay." "

Taisper smiles broadly and squats down by the bandit who rolls his eyes in disgust at the terrible joke. The inquisitor speaks again. "Ain't that something? That's a joke some of the farmers tell around here in Newhaven. Man those folk have some great gags. Salt of the earth I tell you." The footsteps stop mere inches from the dying man. Taisper finally looks up to acknowlege the newcomer. "Well Alexius, I guess it's time for you to do your thing." Taisper latches his morningstar back on his belt and folds his arms over his chest. He is a bit bigger than he was a year ago, and his armor had to be let out to make room for his thicker arms and broader shoulders. All his heavy exercise and careful eating led to his build getting thicker with muscle.

The bandit looks up and sees the hellknight scowling down at him. "Wh-! No no no no no! No, you...you have to kill me! Not him! You can't let him use th-"

Taisper cuts him off as Alexius draws Mourne from its sheath. "I judged you on that day, friend, and your end is mine. That's the way this goes. Do you know what happened that day? What you missed, you coward? I was bathed in golden light, and while many of my companions were laid low, and the saint Jemini of Ioemedae sacrificed herself so my mission, my life could continue, I was unhurt. Unhurt! No damage was done to my person because I'm Chosen, you see. All the signs lined up. Because that day? You know what that day was? The day of our triumph over chaos and fear? The day we crushed the Stag Lord?"

Alexius' sword plunges into the bandit's chest, killing him instantly. The strange sighing hiss that Taisper has come to recognize as the blade devouring a soul whispers off into the woods, joining a thousand thousand other secrets that no doubt lurk in the shadows and briars.

The 21-year-old holy warrior looks down at the corpse at his feet. "That day was my birthday, criminal. I am Chosen. And I will end you all." He nods at Alexius, and the two unlikely partners start back to the city, leaving the corpse of the last of the deserters behind for the animals of the woods to devour, like the black blade devoured his soul.

Technically, this going to be a flash-forward to 16 Gozran 4709, whereas the business above with Berrin and Tandlara occurred on 1 Erastus 4708, about six weeks after the battle.

16 Gozran 4709

Alexius Morai-Thrune, Signifier and Hellknight, strides next to Taisper. The last year has treated them both well. The last of their hunts was the most difficult, but it made the taste of the man's soul being drawn into his hungering blade all the sweeter. The first three fell in the first month. They had fled straight to Restov, apparently thinking that they could slip in unnoticed in the teeming masses of the Free City.

They had found the first in an alleyway two nights after they entered the city. He was foolish enough not to even bother to change his name. It was almost too easy. Rather than admit that he had broken his oath and accepted the consequences, he tried to fight. The man was strong and fast, but not enough to fight both of them at once. Alexius had stabbed him in the back, the man's traitor blood running down the black blade. Mourne strummed with energy as it captured the man's soul.

Alexius had been unsure at first about allowing Taisper to know about Mourne's hunger. Asmodeus and Abadar, for their many similarities, disagree upon such things. The day after they brought the first bandit to justice, Alexius explained it. He did not sugarcoat its effects to make it easier for Taisper to handle. He respected him too much for that. The two of them were equals, partners. He explained that the blade hungered not just for blood, but for damned souls. He was surprised how much the young man seemed to like the idea of instantaneous judgment. If the soul was taken by Mourne, he said, it would prove that the judgment was righteous.

The second and third kills came easily in the same month. The second was killed in a brothel. Alexius shielded the eyes of the whores with magic so that they did not see the pair of them killing the oathbreaker. They caught the third in a tavern, but it turned out to be an ambush. Fighting back-to-back, the pair slew half a dozen men, hardly more than cheap sellswords, that their quarry had hired to save his life. When he was defeated, Taisper had Judged him, and Alexius had carried out the sentence.

As they walk from their fourth and final kill, Alexius offers a rare smile at Taisper. "I rather liked your joke, Stosz. It gives them a final moment of mercy before they must stand before the Judgment." He grows serious and stops, with Taisper stopping with him. With deliberate motion, he takes off the black chain glove of his armor to expose his hand. He draws his hand across his black blade, over the blood of the last bandit. He offers his hand, bloodied with the lifeblood of the man they Judged together. "We are bonded in blood, you and I. I pledge to you my loyalty, and request only the same in return. Blood for blood, Stosz."

Jhod pipes up from the other side of the council table. "What's wrong with farms? We need farms! These steadholders came for land and freedom, not buildings and endless rules." He coughs, as if to remind himself of his place. "But my job is to worry about teaching the young ones, and possibly some of the older ones as one. If they'll listen." He is quite sharp on that last point. "So far, there are a few dozen children of various ages. The literacy rate is quite low, but they're willing to learn. I believe that it is quite important, even vital, that everyone learns to read and write. In so many kingdoms, the gift of knowledge is hoarded by the upper classes and kept from those whose parents could not read or write, so that they are doomed to a lifetime of serfdom. This is neither right nor fair. We have a responsibility to educate them, so that they know that they too can one day rise beyond their station."

Jhod is advocating increasing the Promotion edict upwards, at least eliminating the Stability penalty at the cost of BP.

“Buildings and endless rules eh?” Verik keeps his temper in check, but his voice drips sarcasm as he looks back up to Jhod – though they have become friends since the Battle of Stagfall, their council arguments have already become legendary. “You’ll be grateful for some buildings and laws when the winter snows come, unless you want to settle in with the pigs for the winter! Farms and pigs, Jhod.”

He waves a hand irritably. “Oh we have plenty of farmland allocated, and plenty of pigs, with what Old Javversen brought in with him last month. Lovely pigs and lots of ‘em, all hairy and stinking beasts – why on a fine morning with the breeze coming up from the northwest, I can smell the pigs from my door. Wonderful. We’ll be famous now from Brevoy down through the River Kingdoms, all the way to Taldor, Absalom and beyond. Come to Newhaven, the choice for freedom and farms and pigs! Quite an inspiration. Oh and geese too on the lake – great big honking nasty buggers that honk and wake us up before dawn, and have to be warded off with barge poles. Come to Newhaven for our farms, pigs and geese! That should be enough to earn a laugh or two as the settlers pass by to find some real towns to settle in. Did I mention we have pigs?"

Zander enters the hall fresh from his patrol. The white heart helm resplendent on his brow.

"Pigs you say Verik? Aye. We have some of the finest I have ever seen. Must be the grass out here, but my! Some monsters they are growing out there are truly impressive. Oh, and lots of piglets this spring. It does our little kingdom proud."

He lowers his head and pulls off the helm. By the time his head comes up, Zander's headband has kicked in. The face Zander now chooses to wear, is a combination of the old and new Zander. His feature are strong and the left ear is present, but the left cheek is wrinkled and scarred as if recovered from a injury long ago.

He sets his helm and bow on a chair along the wall, nods his greetings to those at the table, and then takes the seat in the corner of the hall against the wall. "My report. The road is clear to Oleg's...well, the old trading post. Lots of people and supplies coming in. It is really impressive. The chance for a new life, some good land, and raising big pigs..seems like a good deal."

Just a reminder, but Zander has a Charimsa of 7. Just a tad less smooth. He should still tend to be rather off-putting.

As the council continues to discuss their plans for their fledgling kingdom inside the keep, a young boy runs up to Tandlara. Breathlessly, he tells her what he saw. "Mother Crow, I was playing in the woods when I heard something coming from the road. I went to go check. It was a lot of horses and wagons. They looked really rich. Here, I drew the symbol on their flags! They're only a few minutes out of town!" He presents a sketch on the paper that Tandlara had supplied, just as she had taught him. The sigil is the heraldric coat of arms of House Lebeda, as drawn by a ten-year-old. He waits expectantly for her praise, pleased with himself for giving her this information.

OK. Bit of a toned down retcon.

"Pigs you say Verik? Aye. We have lots of pigs out there. Lots of piglets this spring, too. That's a good thing."

He lowers his head and pulls off the helm. By the time his head comes up, Zander's headband has kicked in. The face Zander now chooses to wear, is a combination of the old and new Zander. His feature are strong and the left ear is present, but the left cheek is wrinkled and scarred as if recovered from a injury long ago.

He sets his helm and bow on a chair along the wall, nods his greetings to those at the table, and then takes the seat in the corner of the hall against the wall.

"My report. The road is clear to the old trading post. Lots of people and supplies coming in."

I should be able do that better, he probably has my charisma. ;-) I hate talking to new people, but I thought amongst friends he could open up a bit.

Tandlara stares at the paper for a moment, blank-faced. Then she smiles, ruffles the boys hair and kisses him on the cheek. 'You've done well sweetling. Run along and play now!'

She watches the boy as he scampers off for but a second and walking towards the long hall, there is nothing wistful or aimless about her steps now, she strides with purpose, long elven legs eating up the distance.

She passes the training yard, waves Akiros towards the long hall imperiously, and then proceeds without waiting for him, striding around and in a back entrance.

In the main room she appears behind Berrin's seating postion as he reclines uncomfortably on his makeshift throne. She clears her throat to interrupt the typical bickering between Verik and Jhod, sparing Zander a glance and a small smile.

'We're about to have company Dear Ones. House Lebeda is on the road and they'll be here soon,' her voice is clear and sweet in the silence, a lullaby, a warning.

They'll bring her back to us. They have that within their power. I'm sure of it.

Verik looks at Zander for a moment, sighs and slumps his shoulders as one defeated, his head looking briefly skyward to murmur a prayer for patience. He then picks up his quill as if to write again, though there is a slight smirk upon his face. “To be precise my good Warden, the ‘road’ as you call it is hardly more than a worn muddy track in most places, and no more than a woodland path in others. We must make it a proper road from here all the way up as soon as we can, for as you have seen it is now the lifeblood of us.”

“The veins of Newhaven run north and south. We have to build a good road up to the old trading post, and then we needn’t worry about the East Sellen and Pitax, except to make sure no one encroaches on our side of the river. If the tributaries are navigable south of our own lake to Mivon, we’ll have all we need to prosper. Of course, it means making a trade agreement with Mivon, as they could choke us off easily from where they sit on the river. I’m worried about the Mivonese, not the Pitaxians for now.”

Verik’s eyes move towards the eastern side of the map. “As much as I loathe giving encouragement to Jhod to bring up more land for pig farmers and the like that Corwin and Zander have to set patrols for, those grasslands north and east of us are…” Verik is interrupted by the sound of Tandlara, and loses his train of thought as she speaks to the council. She always has that effect on me, as if I was back in the Novice Halls. Probably for the best...Berrin looks like he's going to fall on his greatsword if we keep on today... Wordlessly, he starts to roll up the rest of his parchment and gathers his scroll cases together as the session adjourns.

Well well well. Let's take this new Inquisition out for a spin, shall we?
Diplomacy w/Blessed Infiltration: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (1) + 10 = 11 vs. 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (5) + 10 = 15
Oh, I do like this. Especially since Taisper seems to be one of those PCs with bloody well cursed rolls. *sigh*
Heal w/Guidance (1/day): 1d20 + 7 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 7 + 1 = 15

A pained expression crosses Taisper's face. He gives the Hellknight what he hopes is a winning, if lopsided, smile. "Thrune. Buddy. Look man I'm sorry, but I can't do that. I've told you; no family for me. Even the...the offer here kinda hurts. I can't do what it is I'm supposed to if I got ties. You and me, we're a great pair, and I like working with you! But the only bond I'm permitted is between myself and The Master and The Lawgiver. I hope that's not lousy of me to say, but I got no choice. God spoke to me, Alexius. Surely you understand. You understand what it is to be Chosen. To be...Elected." The inquisitor steps back and looks at the ground, his face now hardened. He inhales and exhales. "Come on, I gotta get my Currency and then we should get back."

Taisper goes over to the corpse that's right that's just meat you go an take what you need it'll be a lot to cross that river it'll be and takes out a dagger he has reserved for this specific purpose. With practiced moves, he removes the man's eyes and places them in a small alchemical vial, which he then puts into a leather pouch, which itself then goes into a second pouch on his belt. He knows they will last until he can get to his quarters, at which point the second part of the process will begin. Verik looked at him with great distaste when he saw him reading alchemical texts on loan from distant libraries and purchased from a travelling Chirurgeon, but Taisper paid him no mind; he had a higher Calling, and earthly disapproval meant nothing. He received orders from God, the others did not.

Alexius watches the process dispassionately, as he sometimes does, though as usual he makes no comment. Taisper's work is sloppier than he'd like, but he's tired, and the hellknight's sudden declaration of brotherhood has him put off more than he'd care to admit.

He stands. "Alright, let's get out of here. I think there were supposed to be diplomats in town this week and I'll want to follow up on any that are staying locally."

They start walking. After a short distance the inquisitor shoots his companion an oddly vulnerable look. "So...so you really liked the joke? You thought that was good?"

Squirming in his chair Berrin giver the Pitaxian envoy a thin lipped smile and a nod as he states his case, again. Bessie would be anxious to get some exercise by now and Berrin meant to take her out for a ride as soon as this peacock would get his hide out and on it's way home.

As Kesten escorts him out Berrin looks expectantly around the council table, his face brightening up at the prospect of calling it a day, but when they start with their musings and arguing his heart sinks and he falls back into his chair with a sigh.

"We should be laying roads north to Oleg's anyway," he says, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "We need to secure the gold mine west of the trading post as soon as we can. We're not claiming east yet." he mutters as the council pour over the maps.

Nodding to Zander as he enters Berrin gives him a half-hearted wave and silently envies the archer his freedom to roam the realm, if they could call it a realm yet. Dirt packed roads and wooden hovels was what they had as of yet, the keep was situated in the heart of the lands they meant to claim but they weren't going to be moving in anytime soon.

By the time Tandlara enters and deliver her message Berrin has taken out a dagger and is intent on slowly drilling a hole into the armrest of his chair. "Oh, great. Kesten, you'd best be the first to talk to them, You speak their language. Do we have any space to put them or shall we hope they brought their own tents?"

A herald rides ahead of the Lebeda horses, emerging through the wooden gates of the old fort they took as their capital after defeating the Stag Lord. His carries a banner with the crest of Lebeda, a white swan on a blue expanse. He looks rather out of place in the fort, which is still fairly damaged in several areas. To call their capital 'shabby' would be a generosity. Still, he makes no remarks about their town, or the tents that the citizens seem to be living in. "Lord and Lady Lebeda approach with their court!" His announcement (or warning, depending on the perspective) causes most of Sanctuary's new citizens to come to the gates to see the sight of the horses and carriages.

The gathered crowd is likely not much to look at. Between the sellswords (most of whom are the captured bandits that Akiros and Taisper both agreed to give another chance) led by Akiros and the laborers working on finishing up a decent mill to better utilize the area's ample forest resources, the citizens of Sanctuary likely appear a provincial and motley lot. The line of horses and wagons enters the town to the fanfare of the herald. There are several dozen men with them, clearly soldiers, along with a handful of courtiers. Lord Lebeda rides to the front. He is the very picture of a noble lord. With a strong chin and a full head of black hair, he looks like he climbed out a child's storybook about brave knights. His metal boots hit the ground with a chink, barely bringing the horse to a trot before coming up. The herald begins to introduce him when he interrupts. "Where is she? Where is my daughter?"

Kesten clears his throat and takes a step towards Lord Lebeda. "My Lord, you must be exhausted. It is not an easy trip from Silverhall to here, though we look forward to seeing a permanent road between them. Allow us to offer you our hospitality, perhaps bring something to eat and give you someplace to rest."

Lebeda looks at him with some amount of anger, apparently long-simmering. "Ser Garess, nothing could please me less. I came here to see my daughter. Now, who amongst you can help me?"

How much do you want to spend on their visit? An event would take between 0 BP (if you do nothing out of the ordinary) to 5 BP (to throw a great feast, largely imported at this point).

Time for another diplomacy check from Berrin ;P

'Oh, f$*%! Berrin grimaces as he realizes noone bothered to write the Lebeda's about Jemini's death. 'F$#*, f@!$, F!&%!' Grimanceing he steps forward, his stomach doing funny things with each step he takes toward Lord Lebeda.

Diplomacy, untrained 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 1 = 18 not bad..

"Lord Lebeda." he speaks up, looking the man straight in the eye, his back straight. "First let me welcome you to Sanctuary, the name we have chosen for what is to become our capital city, my name is Berrin Myrdal and I am friend and steward to your daughter till her return." he manages without flinching. 'Funny how I fear words when battle thrills me.' "Please, accept our offer of hospitality in your daughters name, your wait for her might be longer than you anticipated. Please, come, accept refreshments and let me explain." Berrin gestures to their ramshackle keep, hoping the lord will at least give them the opportunity to present the news in private.

I'm working under the assumption that he's indifferent to us with a cha mod of +3 to +5 and Berrin's asking for simple advice or direction, putting the DC somwhere around 13-15.

Lord Lebeda's eyes narrow as he sqrutinizes Berrin, to his surprise he gives a crisp nod and starts forward, entering the keep. Catching Kesten's eye Berrin gives a small shrug and follows.

Entering the keep Lord Lebeda looks around the longhall with a frown and selects a seat by the fire, taking off his gloves he looks at the gathered council members. "Where is my daughter?" he asks impatiently.

Gods be good, diplomacy 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3 *cringe*

"Wine!" Berrin bellows in the general direction of servants, startling Lord Lebeda. "And food!" he adds as he plods down into the chair next to him. Stretching his legs with a tired sigh Berrin stares sullenly into the crackling fire as he talks to Jemini's father. "She's dead." he starts, "Killed by the bandit king called the Stag Lord in a battle six months passed." Ignoring Lord Lebedas shock, or simply not noticing, Berrin plows on. "We killed the bastard but too late to save Jemini, the frakker killed her outright by ramming his greatsword straight through her chest." he says, the battle playing vividly in his mind as he stares into the fire.

Sitting up he leans over to look Lord Lebeda in the eye, "We tried paying to have her resurected but she wouldn't come back. All we got was a not yet from her. She's got some buisines in the afterlife it seems, gods know what, but before we try again we'll be doing a speak with the dead spell first."

Lord Lebeda gives Berrin a strange look. "Do you think us to be fools? I am quite aware of my daughter's death. We knew that she was going into battle, and then received word from the proper channels about the results. I am looking for her body, so as to conduct a proper resurrection. Archbanker Vinodragov, of the Brevic Bank of Abadar, has come as a personal favor to me. Considering the complexities of the magic involved, I would know if you had secured an appropriate source to successfully return Jemini to the living. I don't know who you paid, but I doubt you got your money's worth." Lord Lebeda seems quite cross, though it is likely his grief combined with some annoyance towards Berrin.

Verik stands next to Berrin and slightly behind him, as is custom for such an arrival as they watch the riders of House Lebeda enter the grounds. He fidgets slightly at the sleeve hem of his worn and slightly stained vestments, irked at himself that he had only had the one set and had not thought to order a better set in his last request north. As Lord Lebeda moves ahead and dismounts, Verik remembers himself and bows, gesturing for others to do so as well. Yes I can see the resemblance to Jemini in his face somewhat, though she must have much likeness to her mother…she must be a great beauty as well…is she here I wonder?

As Lord Lebeda cuts short the pleasantries and demands to see his daughter, Verik’s eyes nearly goggle out of his head, and it is all he can do to not keep his mouth agape. What? He…he DOES NOT KNOW? How could that be? I sent the full accounts of the battle to Vinodragov but two days after from Oleg’s, along with the letter for the Lebedas in my own hand, plus the requests for the stonemason and the additional books. The reply letter from the Third Keyfather of his office stated the Bishop would take care of this…how can this be possible?

Verik walks well behind Lebeda, Berrin, Kesten and the others as they proceed back to the makeshift hall, disturbed and lost in thought. As Berrin’s first words to Lord Lebeda seem well enough to give them a chance at recovery, he recounts the steps he took over two months back from the battlesite funeral onwards – the letters to the Bishop in New Stetven, the declaration of Newhaven and the reinforcement of the Charter Proclamations, the return letter from the Bishop’s offices.

In the hall, Verik’s distracted and hazed recall of details is snapped with Berrin’s next words to Lord Lebeda, and the cleric nearly reels as the blood drains from his face. Oh Gods no Berrin! He’s a Lord and and and her father besides and not a solider at a tavern who lost a shared friend over a cup of ale…her body is not even here and he cannot hear this from us like this…

Verik opens his mouth to speak, but is paused as Lord Lebeda gives his reply, once again sending the cleric’s mind reeling. Alright okay he knows and we just did not understand thank the Master…we can save this yet…I have to deflect this with humble respect as Jemini would do…SAY SOMETHING YOU OAF!

“MY LORD LEBEDA!” Verik’s rushed interruption comes out almost as a shriek, his voice breaking as when his voice was changing as a boy of twelve. His pale face now flushes red with embarrassment, but he clears his throat and moves forward and around to Berrin’s side. He keeps his arms open and displayed outward, his head bowing low. “Forgive me, Lord Lebeda. I am Cleric Verik Jarrow, Brother Servant of Abadar, entrusted to carry the Will of Abadar to these lands by Archbanker Vinodragov. Steward Myrdal speaks honestly and true, but we have not had proper communication to address my Lord as should be expected under such circumstances. As the one who laid your daughter to earthly rest and presided over her last rites, I must incur any and all blame on the failures to provide you with the information you need.”

Verik takes a knee then, hands still outstretched. “Jemini is not here, but still lies at the place of her final rest at the Battle of Stagfall, which is being dedicated to honor her sacrifice for these lands. I felt it would have been a desecration to remove her. For your Lordship to have to come all this way to discover this about his own flesh and blood is inexcusable. If we have done you wrong or brought shame upon your house for this, I humbly ask that you bring any earthly penance upon me directly, and I shall pay the debt.”

Diplomacy w/ Silver-Tongued Haggler 1d20 + 10 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 10 + 2 = 29

Lord Lebeda gives Verik a hand up, smiling at him fairly broadly. It is the first sign of any happiness that he has shown. "Yes, I know who you are. You were the one I was hoping to speak to. My daughter had fine things to say about you in her letters, and I received your letter about her sacrifice with a heavy heart. It was made less of a burden by your words, for which I thank you. I was hoping that she was interred here, but I do understand the reasoning for letting her rest there. I hope it is not her final resting place. I look forward to holding my daughter in my arms again, provided it is the will of the Lawgiver."

A beautiful woman who must be Lady Lebeda enters their keep. She looks a great deal like her daughter, but with the regal refinement of age. Dressed in finely crafted mourning clothes, she walks with an easy confidence straight to Verik and embraces him with a hug. "You must be Verik Jarrow. I've been looking forward to meeting you for some time now. I am Jemini's mother, Sarrona. It's a pleasure to meet all of you. My daughter was many things, not least of which was a fine judge of character. Those who she trusted, my husband and I trust."

Lord Lebeda lets out a bit of a laugh before continuing. "Well, with the will of the gods, I will be seeing my daughter again by the end of the week. That makes me feel like celebrating. If it is not too much of a burden and an imposition, we shall feast tonight in Jemini's honor! In the morning, once we have rested, we can go together to bring her back to the living."

“My Lord and Lady Lebeda,” Verik says while bowing again low, his faced flushed both from Oleksandro’s words and Sarrona’s hug, “your gracious honesty and sincere kindness to me…to all of us…is far more than we could ever expect given the circumstances. I remain your humble servant…and you are most welcome amongst true friends here in Sanctuary.”

I see now where Jemini gets her beauty…also the ease by which she swept in our lives and endeared us to her comes from both mother and father. What a marvel, but focus now and give the rest a chance to win their hearts…

He offers a warm smile then, and takes a step to the side to make sure Berrin is in full view. “If it pleases my Lord and Lady, allow me to make proper introductions, and then I shall see directly to your people and horses with fresh water, food and accommodations while you all get acquainted.” Verik turns to Berrin first. “Steward Myrdal speaks bold and true…as you have so witnessed, but also holds a warm sense of humor that your daughter found most refreshing and welcome.” He pauses slightly, then spies out Zander. “Ahh this here is our esteemed Warden of the White Hart, a sure grip and unerring mark with the bow as I’ve ever seen and a true friend…ahh well Sir Kesten Garess you may already know, whose unflinching bravery at Stagfall helped to win that day…oh and may I introduce our esteemed elven Mistress of Knowledge, Tandlara Esirrien, who I am certain you have heard of in letters and can relate many a fine story about your daughter…” Verik goes on to make introductions on Svetlana in particular as someone who Jemini found great favor in, then Oleg, Jhod and all the rest who are in the hall, though he does not embellish with Akiros for fear of drawing too much attention to him.

When finished with introductions, he excuses himself to see the rest of House Lebeda tended to before nightfall, with a robust vigor and lightness of heart that had been lacking in him for some time. “I wish Taisper was here to take part in this,” Verik says to himself later as he pauses to summon more fresh water in a barrel while the last of the guest pavilion tents are erected, anxious to get back to the ongoing feast. “Hmm thought he was back a few days ago and I meant to see him, but perhaps he went off again…”

Tandlara bows her head, staying to the side of Berrin's chair and saying nothing, her keen elven eyes watching the two nobles with unblinking green regard, her face as expressionless as it had been the first time she arrived in Oleg's among the strangers who had become her new family.

Her eyes stay mostly on Lord Lebeda, watching him as if waiting for something rests a hand on one of the curves of Berrin's chair as she watches, her face still blank. Will they bring her back? Or will this be another failure. If she's still not ready? What will his Lordship do then, how thin will his mask of courtesy be? We have to be careful, Lebeda's lands though vassal to Brevoy are larger, richer and greater than ours. His men-at-arms easily outnumber our entire population.

Oh for the love of sushi - please somebody convince Lord Lebeda to use a speak with the dead before throwing a lot of money at the problem. o.O

Berrin tenses at Lord Lebedas outrage toward him, he had only ment to extend a hand in friendship and shared grief. Frowning at the lord he opens his mouth only to have Verik interrupt him. Scowling as Verik says his piece his frown turns into a look of blank amazement at the nobles reactions to his words. 'Crikey, I'll never understand these people.' Berrin had no intention of bowing or scraping before anyone, he was a free man and an apointed steward of a realm to boot, he would stand proud.

"A feast." Berrin had cought that bit though, maybe there was hope for them still. "Aye, we shall feast in Jemini's honor." he declares. "Send word to the hunters and fishermen, break out a cask of 'Bokken's.' Finer ale you'll never taste. Deck the longhall and get the fires roaring! See the traders. We feast tonight!" When Berrin finishes a big grin is splattered across his face, his spirit soaring at the prospect of a break in the tedious business of running a kingdom. Grinning he clips Lord Lebeda in the shoulder, "A feast! A fine idea!" and then stalks off to see that his orders are seen through.

5 BP you say... That equates to what.. 20000 gp? Isn't that a bit exessive.

A small distance from the fort, on the edge of the woods and backed up against a hillock, is a hut that is barely more than a box with a slanted roof. In that hut is a man, and in that man are many, many boxes. They are not the same size, but there is a grace of proportion and algorithmic elegance to the arrangement of sizes of these boxes. They sit, as in a vault, in perfect order and quiet. For even if their contents are chaos the boxes themselves are merely receptacles. Neutral. In one box is a family. Hard-working and poor, though not destitute. They are covered in dust and the light in their eyes is almost gone. In another box is the sun. In another box is a series of nested boxes, a matroshka of wood and nails that recurses inside itself. It may or may not end. In another box is a group of people, all set in opposing positions within the box.

One box is full of eyes.

This part is Taisper's favorite. He passed the fort Sanctuary. But not really. silently and swiftly, alerting none to his presence and parting ways with Alexius there. It was clear that diplomats had already arrived -- House Lebeda this time -- and some kind of Party was under way. There would be time for that later. After entering his Box in the woods, Taisper took off his weapon belt and set it on the bed, then unslung his shield and did the same with that. He took off the battered leather overshirt that was too big for him anyway, but which covered the expensive and clearly magicked breastplate he had purchased from a Hunter in the north, an old man, who was leaving on his last mission. Taisper hated how gaudy the thing was, but it allowed him to move more quickly and afforded far more protection than mere mail.

All his items set neatly on the bed, the inquisitor sits at the desk on the opposite side of the single room, and begins the Ritual of Currency. He takes out the eyes from his latest Hunt and sets them on a cloth on the rough wood. He then opens a small chest and takes out a few vials of alchemical materials and a Formula Book. He has done this enough times that he probably does not need to reference the Formula but still; better safe than sorry. (Taking 20 on a Craft(Alchemy) check for a total of 15, to make a simple preservative, like what a taxidermist would use, kind of thing.) With the utmost care, and moving slowly, the inquisitor combines the ingredients in precisely measured amounts into a beaker until he is rewarded with the familiar sickly blue-green liquid. He smiles briefly, then drops in the eyes and watches as they absorb the liquid, replacing all that would rot with magical power and the tiniest spark of his own divine energy. Eventually the liquid is gone and the beaker contains only the eyes -- a lovely and sad raindrop color, he hadn't noticed earlier -- which Taisper promptly removes and places into a different chest alongside several other pairs. He looks at them, and they stare horridly back. He gives a soft smile. Each pair of eyes sits on a tiny piece of crushed velvet in a perfectly-sized partition in the chest. Such order.

"Just like God."

Taisper is not certain who knows about his little Temple out here in the woods, but he assumes that at the very least Zander must know, skilled outdoorsman as he is, and Tandlara as well, with her strange and nascent little network of spies; children, animals, and the elements. Taisper saw what happened to Tandlara in the last moments of the battle with the Stag Lord, though he doesn't understand it, he heard the shadow and saw its breath. He has not spoken of these things, but he has them in a box. It is not of any concern to him if anyone knows, really; he himself understands that he will have to burn the Temple one day, simply because it is, and he may not have such things for overlong. The supplies and his currency alike he keeps with him, or well-hidden in his "actual" quarters inside the fort.

The inquisitor nods to the guards and salutes them smartly, returning their smiles. He then goes to the room that serves as his quarters and pulls up the loose floor board as quietly as he can, disarming the trap that he set there and opening the trap door and dropping the two chests -- one with his alchemical supplies, the other with his Currency -- into the ground. He then resets the trap and replaces the floorboard. Soon he will need to find a better place for these things, this he knows, or else just carry them on his person at all times. It is a thought never far from his mind.

He locks down his equipment in the trunk at the foot of his bed and heads into the hall where a large dinner is apparently in full swing. As he enters his stride changes a bit and his eyes take on a familiar half-lidded look. His mouth curls up into a familiar perpetual half-smile. He greets those he knows; Verik, Berrin, Zander, Tandlara, Corwin, Alexius, Kesten, some of the other citizens and soldiers, and then when a decent moment presents itself, he greets the Lord and Lady Lebeda, keeping in mind Jemini's plan (promise?) to send a letter of some sort out to have Taisper tried. What do these nobles know? Did she tell them?

"Hey, y'all must be Jemini's folks. My name's Taisper, I...knew your daughter, too. I'm awful sorry about what happened. Just sick about it. How was your trip, though? How are you two doing? How are things...where, uh, where you're from?" Taisper bows gracelessly and shakes hands with Lord Lebeda, then watches very closely to see if he can divine any intent besides what they state openly.

Diplomacy with Blessed Infiltration (2/3 for today): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (4) + 10 = 14 vs. 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (7) + 10 = 17
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (9) + 9 = 18

Verik rather hurriedly makes his way back to the main hall just after sundown, taking a moment to splash some fresh water upon his face and smooth his hair back. He looks down at his threadbare vestments and sighs once again at their relatively poor state, pulling out the rather recent silver symbol of Abadar from under his tunic and displaying it openly. He then strides with confidence into the hall, seeing that the feast is well underway.

Seeing Zander off to one side of the hall watching from a distance as Berrin (with Tandlara nearby), Svetlana and Kesten lead the conversations for the most part with Lord and Lady Lebeda, he moves over to him, and in a somewhat uncharacteristically jovial fashion gives him a jab to the shoulder. “How are we doing so far? I see they haven’t stormed out yet, so I suppose that means Berrin hasn’t told them any sleeping quarters or dunk tank stories yet, hmm?” Please Gods none of that…

In the moments after Verik and Zander talk, Verik is just about to go over to join the conversations directly, when he notices Taisper enter the hall. “Well by Cobblehoof’s Golden Saddle, he is here.”

Taisper looks relaxed and normal as usual, and when he comes up to greet Verik the cousin gives Taisper a vigorous handshake followed by a warm clasp on the shoulder. “It is good, good to see you here cousin! Glorious night to you, and I have missed you these many days, truly I have! Did you just return from your journey north? Are you hungry? Why you must tell me all…and I have something to both ask of you and surprise you with later, but erm well as you can see we have honored guests, the Lord and Lady Lebeda.” Verik looks slightly sad for a moment but then shakes out of it and gives another smile at his cousin. “Jemini wrote about all of us in her letters to them, and so I am sure they would appreciate an introduction by you, as I can clearly tell Lord Lebeda is a patron of Abadar’s works.”

Later, not too long after Taisper presents himself to Lord and Lady Lebeda and has his conversation with them, Verik will move to greet them once again and report on the satisfactory nature of their people being settled and quartered. He hovers a bit, as he is excited to speak at any length to the Lebedas as they desire, but also to save Berrin from any social awkwardness and ensure the conversations go smoothly.

Hehe up to you oh Steward of the Realm. You want to go 1 BP so it's something but still humble and won't break us?

Make it 2, displaying everything the 'realm' has to offer.

The hall had been draped in the few banners and furs the expedition turned council possessed, the fire roared and a pair of minstrels could just be heard over the din of the guests themselves. The tables were laden with game, fish and fowl from hunters, fresh bread and sweets from the baker, servants scurried between the tables pouring semi-fine wine of the traders and, best of all, in Berrin's opinion, Bokken's ale into cups. His cheeks flushed and his eyes turned glassy from the feasting, laughing and drinking Berrin wears a content smile as he surveys the proceedings.

The stiffness of their honored guests, imagined or not by Berrin, is soon forgotten as he forgets himself in tales of their expeditions into the stolen lands and as Verik approaches he can recognize Berrin making a mock voice meant to be him as he tells the current tale of when they encountered the cursed Erastillian cleric. "So there we are, standing in the pouring rain, and this big frigging bear is just sitting there, on a tree stump, looking at us like we're dinner and out of nowhere Verik booms 'For the Keeper!... and swinging his mornigstar wildly he charges the bloody thing!" Berrin cries out the last, leaning in and booming out a laugh, catching his breath he continues, "..so, we got no choice really but rush in after him, me, Jemini and Taisper. Zander's off shooting arrows through the roaring wind and Tandlara's cursing it left and right until when, we're hacking at it continuously and it's got me in a hug, chewing on my shield it's all I can do is keeps it's teeth from chewing on me, when Zander comes in, swinging his greatsword high, coming out of nowhere, and fells the beast. Well, the damned thing keels over with me still in a hug! So it falls over with me laying under it and then, out of the blue, it's fur starts peeling off! It's head changes and shifts, and I'll laying under it struggling to get out and thinking my What the Hell's untill suddenly I've got this old man lying on top of me!" Roaring out the last with eyes watering over with laughter Berrin leans back in his chair and sigh contently before his face grows a darker expression, recalling the rest of the encounter. "Turns out see, this great bear was a man caught in a curse, some fifteen years past he'd turned his back on Erastil and reaped a curse for it. His last words were ones of thanks. And a warning."

Leaning back onto the table he wags a finger for emphasis as he says the clerics last words as best he can recall. "'Beware the faerie queen' he said, 'She'll grant your wishes, but not how you'd like.' And then he off and died on us." waving a hand dismissively Berrin falls back in his chair brooding, "See, this lands funny like that. 'Faerie Queen... he scoffs, "..Same with the Stag Lord. He claimed her as his patron, an' we saw her once, up in the mountains weast of Oleg's, terrifying. Her and her giants an' cold riders." Berrin trails off at this point, brooding in his own memories.

"See.." Berrin plows on, interrupting any conversation Lord Lebeda has, obliviously ignoring the fact that he's killing the mood. "We've got enough problems, without all this politicing. Bloody Pitax claiming lands beyond their reach, damned Lord Mayor looking for an excuse to invade, money coming in from people claiming 'thers no strings attached, just make the "right" choices..' whatever the frack that means. Here." Berrin fishes in his pouch and produces a childs ring wrought in gold and tosses it to Lord Lebeda. Scowling he picks it up and examines it and Berrin can see the dawning of recognition on his face. "That's right. The sigil of house Rogarvia. Our good friend King Stag Lord had it hanging on a string 'round his neck. That and his last word are cause for concern if you ask me. 'Chorol. Is. Coming.'" he emphazises each word, just as the Stag Lord did. "Yeah, I see you know the name, so you see, my good lord Lebeda, between faerie queens with armies of monsters and missing conquerors riding dragons, we got enough problems." Berrins features soften, becoming almost pleading, "So you see, right? We need Jemini. She has to return to us. She's the only one with the head for this. Sure, I can prance around meeting pecocks and feathered puffins, but I got no head for it. Gods I miss her." he sighs, leaning back he raises his mug, "For Jemini! May she return swiftly!" he toasts, draining his mug he points at her father, "An' you best listen when I tell ya to try an speak with her before you throw away your gold like we did."

Tandlara skirts the edge of the feast, occasionally nibbling at a bit of gamey fowl, for she preferred her food bordering on raw as did most of her kind, the charring humans enacted on their food was coarse on her tongue. Plucking a sweet apple from the table she returns to her rounds, smiling, and making empty pleasantries, her strange manner dissuading any serious conversation. Instead she appears blank, strange and distant. And she listens, long ears catching every whisper she passes.

One of the servants is her eldest child, a lithe fire-haired creature, always ready with a quick smile, she frequently hides sweets in her apron to give to the other children later, she occasionally runs up and serves Tandlara a glass of wine, which Tandlara pretends to drink for a while, telling her all she herself has heard in rapid whispers. Her children where developing a parsed pidgin langauge of key words and cyphers. Already adapting and growing into it. Humanity in all its versatility.

After a few more circles she returns to the throne side to hear Berrin in his reminscences, and raises her glass with a sad expression in time with Berrin's toast.

Too many people Zander leans against to wall watching the show. He has manged to avoid the pomp that surrounds Jemini's parents since their arrival. The arrogance and demand of attention is more than Zander can take. Once their is a call for a feast, he takes the opportunity to join the hunt for feast's main course.

But here at the feast, he remains out of courtesy to his friends. He sees the wine and stress getting to Berrin, but is not going to interfere Verick and Tandlara are there. They are good at diffusing.

But when Zander hears the conversation turn to Jemini, he comes from out of the crowd to raise his beer stein, "To Jemini."

Taisper is a bit taken aback by Verik's garrulousness, but claps his cousin on the shoulder in return. "The journey was good, cousin, the Master's work was done, which is all that matters."

He laughs at Berrin's re-telling of the fight with the bear who was really a cursed man. It's honest and relaxed, tinged with palpable relief at being able to just openly enjoy a moment or two amongst everyone. At the warrior's mention of the Pitaxians and Lord Mayor of Brevoy, Taisper gives Alexius a look across the room, one that says "we should talk later about this".

Bluff to send simple secret message for Thrune only: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (9) + 14 = 23

Kesten Garess grimaces to himself as Berrin keeps on speaking. They had agreed in the council meeting to keep the Stag Lord's warning to themselves for fear of sparking more unrest in the north. But Berrin, he has come to find out, is not one for secrets when he's had his share of Bokken's ale. He wonders to himself how much he's told the girls who stay in the tent on the side of their little town. He tries to salvage the situation as best he can, but there are too many people at the feast to suppress the warning of the Stag Lord. The spies of House Surtova will surely bring word to the King and his sister soon, probably with suggestions about how to influence the regent as well. "Berrin, why don't you tell the story of Verik's fall into the tatzlwyrm den?" Lord Lebeda laughs and claps Verik on the back, waiting to hear of such an auspicious occasion. Garess notes that both Lord and Lady Lebeda had glanced to each other while Berrin was talking with some degree of alarm. He sighs again, knowing that this will make his task all the more difficult.

Thrune nods at Taisper from across the room. The Chelaxian seems a bit ill at ease in their makeshift feasting hall. Amidst the revelry, he looks quite uncomfortable. As long as he's been here in Newhaven, he hasn't touched a drop of alcohol or hardly cracked a smile. His mission, whatever it is, is far more important than little things like enjoying himself.

With a blow of the Lebedas' herald's horn, a new visitor arrives in the hall. Archbanker Vinodragov strides into the feasting hall, wearing fine clothes and the large key of his station. He immediately addresses the people of the hall. "May the blessings of the Lawgiver be upon you, and upon this new nation. Civilization comes to even the wildest and most untameable of lands when the dedicated followers of the Master of the First Vault step forward." His grayish-blue eyes scan the room, clearly looking for someone.

Technically, speak with dead does not speak to the soul, but rather a simulacrum of the deceased. It is based on the body's memories at the time of death.

Verik smile is nearly a grimace as he pours his wine from a nearby pitcher, almost as if he had eaten a mouthful of bitter unripened berries but did not want to spit them out. He tries to find a way to politely interrupt Berrin without, well, interrupting him, but Berrin is in full swing now and will not be dissuaded from his thoughts. Maybe he should have told the stories of us sleeping in the same room after all...he just tossed the ring at Lord Lebeda! The signet ring, AT the LORD LEBEDA! Can you believe he just did that? Hells who am I talking to? Ahh Verik it's not like you can put the baby back inside the...ugh...just drink to the damn toast.

Verik catches the glance between Lord and Lady Lebeda before the toast, and gives them a look of unabashed apology if they look at him. "Honest and true as I've always said..." Verik murmurs and shakes his head in resignation. Fumbling around in his head for something, anything, to say to steer the conversation, he is relieved by Kesten Garess and the most amusing tale of his other near-death experience at the tatzlwyrm lair. At this point, self-humiliation and embarrassment at his woeful skills in battle are a welcome topic.

"Ahhh ha ha ha hmmmm yes...." Verik colors again and pours more wine from the pitcher, as he realized he had drained the entire glass already. "Well before Berrin enlightens you of my most maligned melee skills in that encounter, it must be stated that my training at the Absalom Bank seemed to be a bit lacking when it comes to..."

He is interrupted by the horn and the arrival of Archbanker Vinodragov entering the hall. Gods this just keeps getting better and better. Did I miss him arrive? No well not unless he was hiding in the Lady's carriage... He downs his glass of wine in one fell swoop, as if his last. "Pardons my Lord and Lady Lebeda, but I should attend to the Archbanker presently."

Verik rises and bows to both of them and nods to Berrin with a look of caution, and then moves away from the tables to the end of the hall, once again trying to smooth his somewhat worn tunic and robes. He approaches the Archbanker and humbly bows. "Praise to the Lawgiver, and may Order and Light be with you, your Eminence. Welcome to Sanctuary. May I see to refreshment and nourishment for you from such a long journey, and provide proper introduction?"

Taisper is, as usual, not wearing any signifiers of his faith, but everyone here knows him to be a faithful Abadarian. As such, he rises and greets the Archbanker as well, after his cousin has. "Archbanker. Hello. I live to serve, and serve only the Master and the Lawgiver. Welcome." There is enough of a hint in the message that if the Archbanker is here to request anything from him in his capacity as an inquisitor, he will understand it. If not, then no matter. It never hurts to test those of the faith who have reached some high station or other.

"Oh! Hah! The tatzlwyrms!" Berrin grins and leans forward in his seat, eager to tell the tale. "See, we were headin' back to Oleg's, not a days ride out, an' the rain's pourin' down on us as it gets closer to dark. An' 'ere we are..." Berrin takes a swallow of ale, oblivious to the way he's starting to slur and spittle ocationally. "...an' suddenly Verik goes "Waaaaah!" an' poof, disappears on us. So, we start lookin' around an' hear 'im mewing from down this hole. An' so it happens our good priest has found a trio of tatzlwyrms, two male an' a female in heat! An' their growlin' an' snappin their jaws at 'im so we got no choice but to go down after 'im. Needless to say we're all still around... except for Jemini, of course.. so it turned out ok, but hells. That cleric gave us a fright when the female made ta eat 'im up. Me an' Jemini got ta 'im just in time." at the last sentance Berrin blinks and again recalls that thers one missing from the party, looking down in his mug he swirls his ale for a bit and raises it again. "For Jemini." he says more weakly this time, taking a sip and half-falling back into his chair.

When the horn sounds Berrin nearly jumps out of his chair and reaches for the longsword by his side. Seeing only the archbanker he gives a sneer and plods back down.

Taisper takes advantage of Berrin launching into a new story to excuse himself from the Archbanker's presence, making his way over to Zander. Once over by the Warden, he speaks quietly. "Zander, man, hey. How are you. We should talk a bit. Got a second for a little stroll outside?" Taisper gives the archer a significant look.

Bluff to convey to Zander 'no really. this is important. come outside with me.': 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (15) + 14 = 29 -- success!

"Sure...let's walk. The arrival of Arch-Anything is usually my mark to get the Hells away for some fresh air."

Remembering why the archbanker was here with them this time, Berrin relucantly stands up from his seat to welcome him. "Archbanker, welcome to our hall and thank you for you blessing. Please, join us." he says and gestures to a vacant seat at his table by lorda and lady Lebeda.

The Archbanker thanks Berrin rather coolly. "The hospitality of Newhaven is most appreciated. I see that the Church's investment is being spent wisely, and that the Lawgiver has granted his blessing to your endeavors. This gladdens me, for I long to see these lands enjoy the blessings of civilization." He shifts his fine robes as he sits near Lord Lebeda, who gives him a friendly nod. "Lord Lebeda has paid to have me perform the resurrection ritual of his beloved daughter. I have come to understand that she is buried at the location where you fought the bandit plaguing these lands."

Lady Lebeda agrees with him quickly. "Yes, Jemini awaits us at the site of the battle. Her friends have told us much about the battle, and how she died bravely to save another. The young man that spoke up a moment ago. Where did he go? Well, he is now sworn to Abadar." She smiles with pride. "Jemini, even in death, inspires others to do better."

Vinodragov turns to Verik with a look of disapproval on his face. "Is this so? Did you ensure to follow the proper protocols when swearing in this young man?"

Zander is still the only one of his companions around whom Taisper feels completely comfortable. Whether or not Zander knows this isn't clear, but the inquisitor is pretty sure that doesn't matter. The upshot is that the closest he comes to totally just being himself is when he's around the archer, now Warden.

"Zander, so I'm going to take a trip to Brevoy. I'm hoping you'd be interested in coming with. Give you a good excuse to stay on the road awhile and avoid diplomats, Give me an excuse to learn more from you, archery-wise and outdoorsy-wise, give us both a chance to make sure we're totally up on the, ah, situation with the Lord Mayor, you know? Seems prudent. I leave before dawn, what do you think?"

Zander walks for a bit considering this action. "I am all for this...just a little uncertain on the timing. Do you mean to go on to Brevoy after we visit Oleg's? I mean, they plan on bringing back Jemini. Seems like we should be....Oh..." A little bit of blush comes to Zander's cheeks.

Hells, I can spot a boar at a hundred yards but not my friends feelings.

"Well...I mean, if its important we can go right away. Yeah, important."

Bluff -> 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (14) - 2 = 12

Nearly choking on a sip as the archbankers choice of words, Berrin gestures wildly at him, trying to catch Lord Lebedas eye, "See.. *cough* ..'the Church's investment'.. *cough* *cough* ..see what I mean..? *cough*" Catching his breath he wipes his mouth on his sleave before plowing on. "That's what I'm talking about right there. Like he's got himself a say in the matter, like he's bough a vote on the council or somthin, handin us Surtovan gold. Or like we're gona be thinkin' 'oh no.. that's the archbankers gold, we should build a church!' when we discuss the planing of the land or city?" Looking at the faces staring back at him he reads the expressions raging from blank to utter amazement to appalment, furrowing his brow he cocks his head, "Did I say somthing wrong?" he mutters aloud and plomps back into his chair. Gesturing lazily he works his mouth, raking his brain for words to make the see, to make them understand. This was a free realm, a new begining, this was supposed to be different, a fresh start free of burden. People shouldn't be trying to control them.

Feeling a wetness on his fingers he looks down in confusion to see Reggie licking the ale of them. His face brightens as he grabs the thylacine with both hands and starts scratching him and patting. "Reggie boy! You understand me don't ya'? Yes you do? Good boy, you got nothing but your nature in ya' do ya'? No you don't. No you don't, your just you boy. Yes you are."

So how are we doing at foreign relations?