Prologue
21st day of Neth
Year 4709
Restov
A chill wind blew through the area, forcing the crowd of onlookers to gasp and you to grasp your cloak closer to your body. The cold temperature and the early snowfall that had arrived that morning announced that a harsh winter was on its way. As you blow into your hands to keep them warm, you scan the crowd and see over a hundred people present, a majority of them nobles cordoned off in different areas marked by stewards carrying different styled crests on long poles (You of course are in the commoners' area!): one crest is that of a snow-capped mountain peak with a silvery crescent moon and black hammer; another with a white swan with a sun on the horizon behind it; another with a black eagle against a gold field wings spread; and finally one with a gray ship against a field of blue below and black above. You immediately recognize the last crest as the same as the one draped about the coffin on the makeshift stage built at the entrance to the Restov graveyard. 20 guards dressed in chain mail stand in front and to the sides of the stage. On the stage toward the back sits a middle-aged woman with a black veil, surrounded by three young males, none older than 16, all of whom share a resemblance, dressed in noble garb, appearing to comfort the woman.
As you collect your thoughts, a human male in his early 40s dressed very fashionably and sporting an elegant back beard and top hat, walks toward the pulpit set up on the stage. Pic Lord Mayor One of the guards announces him: “Silence and respect for Lord Mayor Ioseph Sellemius”. The Lord Mayor begins speaking in an eloquent tone to the gathered crowd of nobles and commoners: “Ladies and gentlemen, we come here this frigid morn to honor the death of Lord Rethric Surtova, husband and father of three sons, and third cousin of King Noleski Surtova, right wise Regent of the Dragonscale Throne of our fair land, who could not be present due to important political matters but sends his condolences." Grumbles and coughs can be heard through the crowd, as the King's name is mentioned. Unwavering, the Lord Mayor continues, "Now is not the time for political rhetoric and house infighting. Nobles and grand citizens of Brevoy, I take this opportunity to speak to a severe problem that plagues our lands, affects us all, and caused the death of our fair lord. The Stolen Lands to the south have been ignored far too long. They have become a breeding ground for bandits and barbarians who act with impunity! These brigands have been active in those lands for too long without regulation. How many more of our citizens must they assault and murder before we take action?? How many more funerals must we attend? How many more graves must we dig in this graveyard for our loved ones?" Pointing to the widow, the Lord Mayor says: "How many more widows and fatherless children must we comfort? This latest act, the murder of our King’s third cousin, I tell you this is the last act of treachery we will allow! These bandits will no longer lay in ambush awaiting our caravans on the road and attack our citizens without reprisal; they will learn to fear Brevic power! The call has gone out. Brave men and women, some of them present in this crowd, skilled with the sword and spell will be found. These warriors will be sent into the wild and they will wield power in the name of Restov, in the name of the Aldori Swordlords, and in the name of our King, and they will put each one of those f***ing bandits to the sword or rope. They will explore the Stolen Lands and look under each stone or pebble and find these bastards and punish them for their actions against the Crown." He walks toward Lord Surtova’s widow, gets down on one knee, takes her hand, and says loud enough to hear: "This I swear to you, your husband’s death will not be in vain, they will pay for this act! Justice will be done!" The cheers from those assembled being to get louder. Returning to the podium, the Lord Mayor pauses and then shouts at the top of his lungs, “Bandit killing season starts now! Who’s with me?” The crowd erupts into a cheer, as the Lord Mayor walks off the stage.
Damrak shivers in the chill; he is unexpectedly grateful for the extra weight of his amoured coat, as it flaps in the icy wind. He is in the crowd to meet one of his - more secretive - contacts who has yet to show up, so his attention is not entirely focussed on the Lord Mayor's speech.
Nonetheless, enough registers with him that he understands the intent - and approves, in theory. Bandits - or 'scum' as Damrak calls them - be taken down, wherever they're hiding. He is just glad that he is unlikely to be called upon to do it; Damrak has heard tales from veterans of previous attempts to restore order... there's a reason they hide out in those lands - numbers mean less and the terrain is everything. Damrak's place is here, in the city. He does the jobs that the official priests of the church don't want to be involved with: watching, trailing, enforcing (all civilised and within the bounds of Law, of course - there is a City Watch, after all). Damrak has never had to do anything really serious, never been without the resources of the church and the city guard.
This morning, he is - more than usually - grateful for that fact. His left hand closes around the holy symbol of Abadar around his neck, as he offers a silent (but heartfelt) thanks for his blessings.
He is in any event fairly sure that either the Mayor is grandstanding to impress the noble widow, or that a merely token effort will be made. Either way, Damrak is sure (with the confidence that only the young can have) that it does not concern him. He applauds the Mayor's speech as it ends, noticing that his hands have gone numb: the cold is starting to bite, now. Still no sign of his contact. Damrak knows a nice little coffee shop around the corner where the halfling owner roasts the fresh beans each morning.
Another 10 minutes and then I'm out of here, he decides.
Anibeth was in the commoner's section of the crowd during the Lord Mayor's speech.
Its not just about building a beautiful civilization there, its about doing Good! Yes, this is now more than a dream, this is a Calling.
As the Lord Mayor leaves and the crowd begins to disperse, she pushes her way to the front to find the guard who announced the Lord Mayor.
"Sir, I journeyed from the north to help reclaim and rebuild the Stolen Lands for us; now I see there's the more pressing matter of hunting down these bandits. Is there a formal hunting mission being formed? Where would I apply to join it? Or does the Lord Mayor expect us to organize ourselves? I want to help! I'm ready to march today!
Pushing his way through the crowd, Grimath finally makes it to the front where he can see the noble droning on about bandits on the stage. He stops for a moment to adjust his gear, and then resumes listening to the man speaking.
Bandits, bandits, bandits. I didn't come here as some common sell-sword or bounty hunter. These rumors had better pay off or that bard that we paid for the privilege is going to get an earful from me when I get back to Brunderton.
Tuning out the mayor again as he addresses the widow of some nobleman, he scans the crowd. Looking around he sees plenty of peasants, something to be expected given the show the nobility are making of this. Mixed among them, however, are signs that there is more going on. The glint of a sword, mail peaking out from beneath a cloak, people who carry themselves a bit taller and whose eyes similarly search the crowd.
Now this is a good sign. That this many were attracted is clearly evidence that there's something larger coming than an announcement of a bounty. I'd have preferred to have brought kin with me, but no doubt Father and the elders were right. A small army of us would've attracted too much attention here. Hardly anyone but humans attending.
His train of thought is interrupted first by a blast of cold wind in his face, and then a young human woman pushing past him to address a guard. As she finishes throwing questions at the guard, Grimath turns to her and speaks. "I'm sure yer questions will be answered in a minute lass. Have some patience." Setting down his pack, he unties a small cask from it, fishes out a mug and pours a small amount of an amber liquid into it. "It'd have been better if they'd chosen to do this on a warmer day," he says, taking a sip from the mug.
"Where are my manners? Would ya care for some? It'll burn the chill right outta yer bones. A little twig of a girl like yerself is probably half frozen out here." He points at the cask with his mug in between taking sips of the drink.
A man dressed in Andoran style clothing (DeviantArt) stands at the front of the proceedings, silently appreciating Lord Sellemius' oratorical act. A bitter wind washes over the assembly, violently whipping the man's cloak about while sending shivers throughout the crowd and giving even the Mayor pause.
Bandit hunting? A convenient enough ruse I suppose...
His thought drifts back to the content of the letter he received while recovering in Port Ice:
"...you must travel to Restov and fulfill the Swordlords' charter. Do so and you shall be exonerated from your crimes against the state..."
A wave of indignation washes over Athenasius as he recalls those words.
If Liberty is a crime, then perhaps it is time for a new country!
"Where do I sign up?!" Overcome with emotion, he shouts into the air while making his way through the crowd to the announcer as the Lord Mayor concludes his speech.
The crowd cheers as volunteers can be heard through the crowd, ready to sign up to support the kingdom! Three of the guards on the stage hand out unfurled scrolls to all who wish to sign up, including Anibeth and Athenasius. "Report to the Keep for inspection. How about you dwarf, are you in?" The guard's hand is outstretched with a scroll in it, as he awaits Grimath's answer.
Words. These humans are a people of many words. Dendarial thinks unhappily. He is unhappy to be in Brevoy. The sight of it brings him no joy, even though he has never seen such a city or even a gathering of so many people. He was not at home in this urban setting and longed for the forests he knew so much better. He glanced around at the shivering people and chuckled, warm in his winter garb. Do these humans not know how to dress for the cold?
Duty demanded his presence. The south was to be reopened and the elves were not going to let that happen without representation. He was chosen to come to Brevoy and receive this charter. If bandits needed hunting he would gladly aid in putting them down. A chance to prove himself and see the world. He would get the charter and be away as quickly as possible.
While he waited he eyed those around him wondering who else might join this quest. He looked each man and woman over assessing their abilities through the gear they carried, the way they dressed against the cold, their posture, and most of all, their eyes.
Realizing they were calling for volunteers Dendarial calmly walks up and receives his scroll, nodding at the request to report to the keep. He does not ask where this is but simply follows the group.
Deftly dodging between the legs of folks twice his height, Olo made his way to the front of the commoner's area to see who would answer the Lord Mayor's call. He pulled his cap down tightly over his head, fingering the brim in an attempt to encourage himself. He was a bit shaken by the Lord Mayor's bombastic outcry against banditry. It wasn't the most comfortable environment for a former thief.
This could be my chance. I could leave this life behind and explore uncharted territory amongst a group of true heroes. But will someone suitable make a stand?
He poped out the front of the crowd and took a look at those who responded. Not the noble paladins in shining armor he expected. The first, a human girl, looked too young to have the stuff of a true hero. Then some rugged looking dwarf and a well-dressed human man.
I'm desperate to get out of here, but I have no death wish. Does this lot have what it takes?
When the guard addresses him, Grimath turns and responds, not wasting any time. "Aye, I suppose I am." Reaching out and grabbing the scroll he ties down his cask and picks up his pack to head for the keep.
As he begins walking off, he turns to the girl and says "Looks like yer answers await ye at the keep lass, best get a move on."
Athenasius snatches the scroll from the guard's hand and, without even a glance at its contents, turns to face the crowd. Choosing his words carefully, he clenches the parchment tightly in his fist and rises it into the air, and shouts:
"For a land free from lawlessness! Free from sorrow! And FREE FROM THE TYRANNY OF FEAR!!!"
He scans the crowd with eyes burning with passion.
Damrak has noted the activity of a group of foreigners, including one wearing Andoran garb, and a dwarf conversing with a girl of around Damrak's own age. Really, they couldn't be more conspicuous if they wore signs, he thinks to himself.
As the crowd thins (still no sign of his contact), he edges closer to them, confident that his own appearance is sufficiently indistinguishable from the other natives of the city that he won't be noticed. He isn't exactly wrong, at that: anyone looking at him would see a youth who looks significantly younger than his 21 years - especially clean-shaven. Standing at 6 ft. 4 inches, he is taller than average, which (with his mop of blond hair) would make him noticeable in a less crowded setting. As it is, his typical city garb makes him fairly nondescript, although the dark tan leather coat he wears is bulky and obviously armoured. His frame, too, is bulky - not fat exactly, but soft: it's clear that he has never gone hungry or had to worry about having a roof over his head. That said, there's a clear ease to his movements and sharpness to his expression that would make a non-casual observer think twice about dismissing him as just another citizen. That, and the duelling sword he wears, which is very obviously older than he is: either he's a rich kid showing off (and he's not dressed like a rich kid), or he's earned the right to wear it.
Damrak's observations of the outsiders are interrupted by a sharp tug at his elbow - his contact has arrived; but is in no mood for speaking. Thrusting a letter into Damrak's hand, he disappears at high speed.
Damrak opens the letter - and his world comes crashing down around his ears. Leave - leave the city??? I've never left it - I was born here! That... no... that can't be right. But... There it is, at the bottom of the letter - the official seal of the church of Abadar. His orders are clear: sign up for the Mayor's expedition.
Standing in the middle of the square, staring blankly at the letter in his hand, Damrak gropes for the holy symbol around his neck. Abadar - I hear your call and I obey. But... couldn't you call someone else....? Suppressing this non-Orderly, non-Lawful thought with the last of his strength, he absently takes a scroll from one of the guards. Commission accepted.
Damrak has never left the city. All he has heard are stories about the dangers of the wilderness. His very faith is founded on the supremacy of the city, of order - and of the perils of chaos. His thoughts are melancholy indeed as he follows the guard's directions and stumbles towards the Keep. I wonder if I do have time for that cup of coffee - or even a trip to the brothel - I doubt I'll find much in the way of comfort out there...
Anibeth smiles at Grimath's offer of something warming to drink. Wanting to seem more experienced than she knows she looks, she accepts the offer. Taking a sip, her face contorts into a harsh grimace. "Very warming indeed. I guess what they say about dwarven alcohol is true."
"Come on, lets get to the keep!" in her excitement she's trying to pull her new friend along to the keep faster.
Seeing a human and dwarf begin to walk towards the keep Dendarial falls in silently behind. His gate is long but his footfalls make almost no sound.
"Ye need to slow down lass. I know I said to get a move on, but my legs only move so fast!" the dwarf complains as he's unceremoniously dragged by his new acquaintance.
"Anyway, ye should 'ave proper introductions 'fore draggin' someone around. M'name's Grimath, what's yours lass?" he says as he regains his balance and attempts to resume moving at a more dignified pace.
Grimath.Dendarial notes silently as he follows along.
Freedom from fear 'huh... That guy sure is gung-ho! Look at me, over-thinking things on the sidelines... come on Olo, take the leap!
Olo breaks away from the crowd and rushes to the stage, receiving a scroll from the nearest guard. He follows along with the others, sticking to the rear and keeping Athenasius in his view. He will follow from behind for now, and discretely observe the others along the way.
Laughing freely, "Your pardon master Grimath, I'm Anibeth. A priestess of Shelyn, called to bring beauty and culture to the Stolen Lands." Given a sweeping curtsey with a twinkle in her eyes, before continuing on the way to keep, but at a more sedate pace this time.
... and that makes six. Not a bad haul.
Pleased with the group of volunteers, Athenasius turns to face the grieving widow of Lord Rethric Surtova and bows respectfully:
"Rest assured Lady Surtova. We shall do our utmost to bring the murders of your husband to justice. Abadar be my witness!"
He then turns and hurries after the others, managing to catch up with the halfing before the party gets out of sight. Tucking away the scroll into his coat, he turns to Olo and introduces himself:
"Well met friend! I am glad that you have decided to join us. My name is Athenasius Darrow, a wizard of some talent."
He tips his hat at the Halfling walking beside him.
"From where do you hail master Halfling? You don't look like you are from these parts."
Returning the gesture, Olo tips his hat as well.
"Well met Mr.Darrow, sir. If I do say so myself, that was some speech you delivered. My name's Olo. Olo Dudley. I'm a bit of a traveler myself. Never really called any one place home for too long. A wizard you say? I'm glad to be in your company then. I dabble in the arcane arts myself. I look forward to seeing you in action"
I hope that answer will suffice for now... introducing yourself as a former slave of Cheliax has never been a great way to break the ice. I'm glad to see someone strong in the power among us. And as far as my other... abilities... hopefully my interest in exploration and discovery will account for my skill. At least till I earn some trust.
Damrak is jolted out of his thoughts when he overhears the Andoran's oath to Abadar. I should be making such an oath, he thinks.
Removing his holy symbol from around his neck, Damrak looks at it. Thoughts of coffee - and other comforts - vanish; he remembers why he serves the God of Cities. The City is not merely a place of bricks and mortar (alright, and... coffee) - it is a concept, an ideal; where even Nature is governed, subjected to Law. He recalls a holy text: "a road shall appear in the wilderness; the rough surfaces shall be planed, the crooked straightened."
His hand closes around the symbol:Lord of the First Vault, I will go. I will build the City of God. Let your law and government increase without end; let your light of reason shine like the sun
Feeling better, Damrak watches the rest of the group: the conversations - the girl and the dwarf, the Andoran and the halfling. The halfling's face looks familiar - haven't I seen it on a wanted poster? he wonders - but the charter will doubtless include an amnesty for any past misdeeds. He also watches the elf walking alone: Damrak can be stealthy when required, but it's clear that the elf has raised it to an art form.
Ever the inquisitor, he wonders: Why are so many non-humans taking an interest in stopping banditry in the Stolen Lands? Surely they have problems closer to home...? Another fragment of text: "for there is nothing concealed that shall not be made known; nothing hidden that shall not be revealed." Encouragement indeed, for an inquisitor.
The crowd's reaction to Athenasius' proclamations is mixed. On one hand, they don't know him; on the second, his charismatic words are a bit too revolutionary for them in broad daylight, so he receives a small smattering of applause (), before he is ushered off the stage by the guards. Surtova's widow thanks the mage for his kind words.
The guard can't help but chuckle in amusement as he hands Olo the scroll. As he walks away, Olo hears him say, "A halfling clearing the Stolen Lands? Ha! That'll be the day!"
The location of the Keep is known to the locals, so it's easy to follow the crowd of 20-25 other onlookers who took a scroll. The applicants apparently range from farmers no older than 16 to scary half-orcs and everything in between.
As you arrive to the Keep, you are admitted as soon as you present the Scroll and led by guards into private rooms, where you are vetted one on one, for about 10-15 minutes. You are asked about your past, connections, affiliations, friends, family, etc. After the interview, you are led to a dining hall where you see some familiar faces, and fresh food and ale has been served and laid out for your eating pleasure. One of the guards says, "The Lord Mayor will be with you soon."
In the dining hall, Anibeth seeks out the now-familiar face of Grimath during the feasting. After trying the ale, she leans over to Grimath. "I see they let you in too! Hey, where'd you get your drink, you know the stuff in the flash, its much better than this stuff."
Looking around the room she is surprised by the diversity of respondents to the Lord Mayor's call. She sees another dressed as a local but tall with a fine leather overcoat, and calls out."Hoy, you, yes you in the leather coat, please come sit with us!"
Dendarial speaks his common tongue clinically. He is fluent but unpracticed for some time. He answers the questions honestly and curtly, never elaborating. Later he joins the others in the dining hall. He eats lightly choosing fruits and raw foods and meat. He actually packs some of the food away for later, being discrete, but unashamed. With a glass of light watered wine in his hand he moves to stand against the wall and watch the others. If there are other elves in the room he would gravitate towards them.
On reaching the Keep, Damrak sends a note to his page Andoro, detailing what's happened and instructing to cancel his engagements for the foreseeable future - and to begin preparing his luggage for the journey. He endures the interviews (silently criticising their interrogation technique and finding it lacking), and walks from there into the Great Hall, but not before enquiring where the Chapel is.
He is pleased to see the food and (importantly) the ale. May as well make the most of it while I'm still within civilised territory he thinks. He blinks as the girl he saw earlier hails him, but willingly joins her and the dwarf, with a smile: "Good day to you both. I'm guessing you've already been asked this (although perhaps not, the interview wasn't very thorough), but what brings a - " he looks you both over for clues - "Hammerswrath dwarf to a bandit hunt in Restov; and a follower of Shelyn to a bandit hunt at all?! Unless you know something I don't?"
"The name's Lendar, by the way; Damrak Lendar." Damrak has an odd habit of putting his family name first in introductions. "And you are?"
Olo, made slightly nervous by the interview process, turns to an old and faithful friend for comfort. Food. He bee lines for the banquet table and builds up a plate a well built human man might have trouble finishing. With a cold mug of ale to wash it down, he makes his way to the nearest seat to enjoy the meal, keeping an eye out for Athenasius as he dines.
"Ah, a fellow traveler! We must share our stories sometimes Master Dudley; but for now it seems we must part ways." Athenasius gestures to the waiting guardsmen as they approach the entrance to the keep. "I trust that we shall meet again at the Mayor's reception." He bows courtly to the Halfling and follows the guard inside.
Thankfully neither of his interrogators were intellectual giants. With a little circular reasoning and careful omissions, he was able to survive without revealing anything incriminating.
If there is one thing that I like about the nobility, it is that they throw the best parties. Chuckling as he fills his goblet with a vintage from Ustalav, Athenasius scans the dinning hall for familiar faces. Part of the core competency I suppose.
"Master Dudley! I'm glad you made it!" He rises a toast to the Halfling as he approaches: "What do you think my friend? Extravagance! Opulence! Status! All could be yours if you are successful in this endeavor." Taking a seat besides Olo, he holds the charter scroll in his hand like a sword and gestures all around him.
"Aye lass, 't'd be a shame and their loss if they hadn't. As fer the ale, ye canna expect much from brewers with such short lives. How'd'ya expect someone to master the art if they've barely got a century ta do it in?" the dwarf responds to Anibeth in between working through two laden plates of food. "'Twas quite a bit of pokin' and proddin' they put us through before lettin' us come eat, wasn't it?" he adds as an afterthought.
When the man in the overcoat joins them at Anibeth's request, Grimath is more than a little surprised to hear his clan name called out by a human. "The name's Grimath, and ye've a keen eye... Damrak is it? 'tis uncommon fer someone besides a dwarf to be able to name a clan by its coat of arms." Lowering his voice so only Anibeth and Damrak can hear him, he continues " T'be honest I'm not here ta hunt bandits, although I've no problems takin' some down along the way. With those eyes ye've surely noticed the group here isn't yer typical bounty hunters no? Somethin' bigger's at stake 'ere than a bounty on some bandits." He gestures around the room for a moment while taking a swig from his mug.
This guy is no joke huh? If he's half as powerful as he is pompous, I'll be right glad to call him friend. And he's kind enough... hasn't poked fun at all like these ignorant city guards...
Olo chuckles into his mug after washing down a juicy bite of turkey leg. "Extravagance, opulence...Certainly things I could get used to, Master Darrow. Especially food such as this. As for status, well... I may need your guidance in that department. But for now, sit, join me! Danger lurks ahead, but tonight, we dine!"
As you're enjoying the finest meats (turkey, venison, and quail) the Keep has to offer, you hear voices coming down the hallway getting closer. You recognize the voice as that belonging to the Lord Mayor become more and more agitated. "Really, out of all those applicants, only six passed the interview! Is that what you're telling me?" A younger man's voice, a bit more nervously responds, "Well, yes, your lordship, there were security concerns with some of the applicants and some couldn't handle a rake let alone a sword." The door to the dining hall opens and Lord Mayor scowls, as he looks over the party. "Just give me the sheets, Padrigan." The younger man hands some him papyrus sheets with notes.
The Lord Mayor walks in, barely acknowledging your presence, as he reads the papers in his hands, quite quickly it appears, as he scans each sheet and moves to the next. 4 soldiers of the Keep also accompany him and stand guard in the room. When he is done, the Lord Mayor raises his eyes and puts the sheets on the table. "Well, congratulations are in order then I believe. You six are the most qualified warriors to go end the bandit threat building in the Stolen Lands. It seems some of you come highly recommended, be it from the Church of Abadar (), Church of Shelyn (), Morul Hammerswrath (), Kyonin (), and ..." The Lord Mayor hesitates a bit and then recovers, "And you, Darrow, and your splendid rhetoric." The sarcasm drips off his tongue as he says the words. "Oh and of course, you Olo Dudley. A halfling's skills are always in such short supply. Pardon the joke." Padrigan hurries and passes the Lord Mayor a goblet filled with wine and he raises it, "To the future of Brevoy!"
Damrak looks puzzled at the dwarf's remarks: "I don't know how I knew your clan, I just did - I must have seen it somewhere and forgotten it until just now; memory's a funny thing, isn't it? I'm certainly no expert on the dwarfen clans; or anything much outside my city, really. I wonder how I did recognise your clan? Oh well; just one of those mysteries, I suppose."
Lowering his voice to match Grimath, he continues: "As for your remarks, I had noticed that it's not your typical group gathered here; but I hadn't got any further than that, which is why I asked if you knew anything. I had some rather unexpected news earlier today, and my brain's not quite recovered, so I'm not putting the pieces together as quickly as I should." Damrak does not elaborate, and is grateful for the mayor's interruption - it gives him a chance to end the conversation there.
He listens to the mayor with increasing impatience: Oh yes, tell the whole blessed world I'm an agent of the church, why don't you; and he visibly frowns at the mayor's sarcasm toward the Andoran - and his joke at the halfling's expense. Philosphy and rhetoric are not Damrak's particular interest either, but there are and one of them is that you insult your guests. He stands at the toast to Brevoy - but does not tip his glass to the mayor: a minor slight, but the point needs to be made.
As a fellow-citizen of the city, Damrak feels the mayor's breach of protocol keenly - he makes a note to approach the two later on and apologise on the mayor's behalf. Actually, best to do it now while the iron is hot. He bows to Grimath, and the girl - whose name he still hasn't learned:"Would you please excuse me for a moment? I need to set something right."
Approaching the Andoran, who is - as providence would have it - sitting with the halfling, Damrak lowers his voice so as not to be overheard by the mayor: "Masters - Darrow and - Dudley - is it? Your pardon for the mayor's slight - it reflects poorly on him and his fellow-citizens, not on you. As one of those citizens, please accept my apologies. As one of your soon to be comrades, please know that he does not speak for me; I would be honoured to make your acquaintance. The name's Lendar; Damrak Lendar."
Come now Lord Sellemius, your insult would have been much more penetrating had you mixed in just a sprinkle of feigned sincerity. Athenasius sighs at the poorly hidden sarcasm from the Lord Mayor. He wanted to retort, but quickly thought better of it. Lets not burn any bridges Athenasius. The Lord Mayor may be your greatest potential ally in this endeavor.
Lendar's approach brings Athenasius out of his train of thought, and he rises to greet the Restov native:
"No offense taken Master Damrak. Perhaps my rhetoric do need some brushing up." He then continues in a low voice: "The Lord Mayor may be an important ally in the coming months. I will not risk this relationship." He smiles at Damrak and Olo, then proceeds to join Lord Sellemius in toast.
Dendarial listens to the speech, not surprised that so few of the city people were deemed ready to enter the wilderness. To send them unprepared into winter would be to kill them any way. he thinks to himself. At the toast to Brevoy he drinks with the rest but wonders Does the man not realize that I am not of Brevoy?
Olo's jaw nearly drops as Damrak makes his apologies for the mayor. He's relived Athenasius had the sense to speak before he did.
Better shrug this one off too.
"Pleased to meet you Master. And, thank you Mayor. No offenses here." Olo raises his mug as a toast. "To the future of Brevoy!"
Well that guys a do-gooder if I ever seen one. They keep up this behavior and we'll have a drama worthy of the stage on our hands... this is going to be fun, isn't it?
Grimath listens closely as the Mayor speaks. When he sarcastically remarks on the human named Darrow, he briefly rolls his eyes. Bah. Human politics... always sniping at each other indirectly instead of just saying what they think. As he finishes going around the room, Grimath takes a moment to look over the group. So this will be the group I'm to set out with then? It isn't as bad as I'd feared. I'd take this lot over a slew of fresh-faced Brevan lads prancing about with their fancy swords any day.
When the Mayor calls for a toast, Grimath hoists his drink up and adds a cordial "Aye, for Brevoy." with a nod to the Lord Mayor.
"For Brevoy and the Dragonscale Throne!"
Abadar? That's good we need someone who knows of cities and how they are to run. Was hoping to have an Erastilan along too to help preserve the nature beauty. Well maybe the elf can stand for that. Master Grimath is friendly enough and always good to have someone take the long view. Not sure how the halfing and the revolutionary fit in..."
She's trying to pay attention to what the Lord Mayor has to say next, but she's anxious to introduce herself to the elf and Damrak to start enlisting their aid in shaping her vision.
The Lord Mayor smiles and is pleased that you follow protocol and toast with him. "However, to be completely honest, we want more than just bandit-killing accomplished during this endeavor." He motions over Padrigan who hands the Lord Mayor a map, which he unfurls. Map of Greenbelt "As I am sure you know, many have tried to claim the Greenbelt, but the abandoned ruins that dot the swath of wilderness stand as testaments to the difficulty of ruling these savage lands. They have remained wild with a fierce tenacity, a haven for monsters and criminals and dangerous secrets, and as such have posed a menace to their neighboring nations as long as anyone can remember. Now the Swordlords of Restov have charged me with organizing a band to travel and survey the Greenbelt. We want you to cleanse the lands of all monsters, be they human or otherwise, investigate and clear out all ruins, and keep track of all resources found, be they ores, timber, etc. I'm not going to lie to you. Other groups were sent previously, more discretely. None have returned. This time, as you are aware, due to local pressure from the Surtova family, I announced our efforts to the city. We have gathered up an elven tracker, a dwarven warrior priest, a female priestess, a mage, a hafling..shall we say procurer, and a hunter of Abadar. You six cannot and will not fail me. The Greenbelt has claimed many lives. Do not let it claim yours." You find it odd that the Lord Mayor sounds sincere.
Padrigan runs up and hands the Lord Mayor a Scroll. "Eat well and be merry today. You leave tomorrow morn." He unfurls the fancy scroll in his hand with authentic Seal and he recites to you in an authoritative voice its contents. Charter He walks over and hands it over to Damral. "May your gods bless your journey." He appears ready to walk out.
For the first time Dendarial speaks. His common is classroom perfect but a bit stale with disuse. Mayor, with so many failures in the past, what resources will you send us with on this your best and final attempt to claim these lands. I have looked upon your fair city. It is rich beyond any I have seen. What resources will it invest? He looks at the official expectantly.
The Lord Mayor ponders the elf's comments. "Dendarial, is it? I can offer you a 2-horse drawn carriage, rations and water for a week and some supplies. Padrigan can let you in on the details. However, unless my people read your papers from your superiors in Kyonin incorrectly, you are volunteering for this mission, correct? I am sure with your expert guidance and skills, this group will be wanting for nothing in terms of food or drink. I have faith in your abilities."
Pleased by the news that they will have a carriage, Damrak will approach Padrigan directly to enquire about horses and pack animals (mules/donkeys). With the mayor's words, it has become apparent that they will be away for some time and will doubtless have a great deal of luggage.
He smiles to himself at the mayor's evasiveness regarding Olo's capabilities. Thought as much - glad the mayor had the sense to accept him; someone who's knowledgeable about those sorts will be useful. Glad I was polite to Athenasius though - didn't see him as a wizard. Idiot - what were you expecting, robes and pointy hat?! The presence of the girl explains itself, too - Shelyn is still a mystery that demands further investigation, but any priestess will be a useful healer. The elf looks like he could take on the wilderness all by himself; and Grimath looks the sort to cut a swathe through his enemies without taking one hand off his flagon of ale. So... what do I bring, exactly?
Making his way to the Chapel, Damrak kneels before muttering a fervent prayer - Lord of the First Vault, hear my plea; God of Cities, attend to my supplication. Let me not bring disgrace upon you, the city of Restov, or myself. Grant me companionship with those more experienced than I; let them not scorn my youth and inexperience. Grant me strength to build the City of God and make the wilderness subject to your Law. For thine is the Law, the Authority and the Reason; Precedent without End. So be it.
Turning to the rest of the group he advises. It will be a cold winter. Everyone will need cold weather gear as a minimum.
"The carriage is a mighty fine gesture from the Mayor, but no doubt we'll want a pack beast or mounts if we'll be traipsing around the wilds. Do any of you already have such?"
Damrak has a tent but no climbing/wilderness exploration gear (e.g. compass, mapping equipment) or pack animal; he plans to ask Padrigan (the mayor's lackey) for help - We're much cheaper than mercenaries, so a gesture of goodwill wouldn't go amiss, he thinks.
"Aye, it is a fine gesture, and 't'will be useful no doubt. I've got no pack animals myself, but we can probably get a couple asses fer next ta nothin', probably even a couple oxen if need be." he responds to Anibeth's comment.
Grimath stands up and reaches down to his belt to pull off one of the pouches. He hoists it up, looking it over and getting a feel for its weight before holding it up over the table. "As a gesture of good will and trust--somethin' we'll need fer sure out there--I offer this to help us get anythin' the group might be needin'." With that he drops the bag on the table and a slew of gold coins spill out across the surface. "That'll be fifty gold pieces put together by the clan to ensure our success in this venture. I have some more of me own money, but I'll likely be needin' some supplies before we're headin' out."
Dendarial shrugs, removes his own pouch and pours its contents on to the table. Seven gold and a handful (5) of silver joints the other coins. All that I have.
Padrigan walks to the group a bit nervous and reads from a sheet, "By authority of the Lord Mayor, the following items will be bequeathed to you to aid you in your endeavor in the Greenbelt:
2-horse drawn covered wagon for you
10 days' worth of rations for each of you and the horses
Barrel of fresh water
6 one-person tents
6 extra blankets for the cold weather
2 healer's kits
Ink (6 vials) and paper
3 empty chests
50' hemp rope + grappling hook
1 set of cold gear for each of you
Any other supplies you require may be bought before you leave at a 25% discount, while supplies last."
Athenasius bows courtly to the Lord Mayor as Padrigan finishes his announcement: "This a truly generous and timely gift Lord Sellemius. You have our most sincere gratitude."
He then unties his coin purse and contributes twenty gold pieces to the pile on the table. "While horses are swift, the Greenbelt is quite the savage and untamed wilderness. We should consider animals with greater endurance and resiliency as Master Hammerswrath suggested. There are also the matters of weather and equipment about which perhaps Master Dendarial can enlighten us. Once we decide on our needs, Master Dudley and I can help bargain the purchases."