Sorry for the delay, was my anniversary and the wife surprised me and monopolized my time for a bit. I'm back, will post soon.

After spending the afternoon trying to get the taste out of his mouth, Zok spend most of his time brooding. He'd never considered that he'd run into creatures without minds. He was decent enough with his control over insects and even the undead, but plants? He'd have to work harder. Spending most of the ride in meditation, he'd wait until evening to broach any subjects.

Although there was something about this location they were in, it seemed a bit familiar maybe? Had he been here before? Perhaps. Maybe he could try a bit of self hypnosis and see if he could recall the information.

survival: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (14) + 11 = 25

Nice post Zok!

Thank you

Snapping his fingers to get Zok and Elaine's attention, he points at the scar and Zok's head, then turns the board around showing him the question mark. ?

Having not higher perception nor knowledge nature...

Zok stands upon the back of the dinosaur, the halfling shades his eyes with his small hand and squints hard into the area the others are concerned about. "If we don't have to fight, I'm all right with that. My only question is about how they might taste."

With that, Zok readies his sling and loads a stone. At this range, he might be able to get off a hit or two. He looks up to Elaine "I'm best at mid to close range, perhaps about six of your steps I'd wager. I can also help others from there if we get into a melee. "

After helping load, which he was not too bad at despite his difference in size, he was able to still take care of things about as well as some of the human laborers, Zok took Elaine up on her offer to ride the dinosaur. As the sun rose over the bleak landscape, Zok wondered a bit about the legend of the blue and green paradise. Everyone had their own theory, but Zok had his own too. It took a while to figure out, and he did it while in prison. If everyone fought over what they had, they had nothing but death and disease. But if everyone worked to better themselves without exploiting each other, they were meager, but most everyone had enough.

And he'd done both. He knew that fighting over scraps wasn't that important. Making something good was. Perhaps he'd invest his coin into building something good, seeing if he could show what he'd learned at a grander scale, but he'd need allies, friends in high places, and maybe even make a few deals to make something happen. Perhaps he could make some contacts here too, but there was no need to rush. This journey would take some time.

He did have to watch out for an insistent Saurah whenever they'd stop, wanting more scratches, but he didn't mind. It was a mutual thing, and it would be good to foster good will. He looked deeply into the lizard's eyes and spoke to it gently. "You are strong, and resilient. When the weak try to harm you, all they will get is a taste of your resolve."

Implant Mesmerist Trick, Psychosomatic Surge. When Saurah is first injured, she will receive 1d8+3 temporary HP, as long as I'm within 160 ft.

Calcedon focused on the papers in front of him. Although they lacked the clarity and beauty of music, he had to say he wasn't displeased. The docking profits were up, the stables in the manor were being used as high end security for breeding horses and destriers from nearby well-to-do nobles and businessmen alike who have no walls. And the walls were themselves being repaired, bit by bit. If the city itself wasn't crumbling, he'd have good opportunity to continue extending House Fordyce's holdings. But the city was crumbling.

Pressing his three-fingered hand against his temple, a war waged within. Was it the right decision to move to financier? Was he not called by Zellara to be, to do something different, more direct? How was he supposed to move forward from here? Why was she still not speaking to him? How long would it be before the plague killed them all? What good was money if it couldn't buy an hour?

He looked out the door to the balcony, gazing over the smoking city, squinting his eyes at the movement outside the walls. Voris was still out there, searching for gods know what. He didn't like that the man had left without a word, and he really didn't like if he caught something and would bring it back to the manor. Almost to answer his concern, a shout came up from the courtyard. "First Chair!"

In a flurry of papers, he bounded over a pile of expensive sheet music weighed down with a cymbal, and out to his stone railing he was accustomed to pacing with a violin in his hands. There was something about the tone that he was called that sped his response.
"Report?" He shouted down at Lannah, the source of the call.

The girl started at the quick appearance, but she quickly recovered.
"Voris sent word!" She said, holding up a scroll.

Something was definitely wrong. Not only was the old man not returning to dote on his daughter and granddaughter, but he also didn't know even how to read, much less how to write. Rushing down the stairs he met the girl in the great hall as she was about to ascend the three flights he was cascading down. Without a word he grabbed the scroll, which looked a bit weathered from time rather than from use.

"Where is he?" He asked as she shook her head with no more information. "Who brought this?"

"Kevlast." She mentioned as he continued scanning the document. Gazing in wonder as the manner of his countenance shifted.

His mind whirled as he made the connections, it should have been easier than this. Where were they headed again? "Tell Henrik to fetch my armor. I've got an errand."

So... after a lengthy break from RP and writing, I'm no longer working two jobs, and I'm checking up on a few things. I'm sorry I left so abruptly I did enjoy my time here, and I was wondering how everyone is doing. It seems things have changed a bit since I was here last.

Though it was a good idea to have more bodies when attacking the castle, he knew that the uneasy alliance would do well to be proven true. If it didn't work out, of course, they would know whether or not they could trust the kobolds to keep their word. He implicitly felt Kesten was of the same mind in this, so he left well enough alone.

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 26

As they approached the meeting site, Daen shrugs at the idea of smoke rising nearby. He didn't want to be seen as imperceptive, "Perhaps he's trying to signal us, or perhaps he's trying to signal others, but we're going to have to go up and speak to him eventually. I, for one, and ready to get this business over with." The swordsman trots his horse through the water, announcing their presence without fanfare or ceremony. There was no need to impress, nor did he consider Akiros' opinion of them something to be overly concerned about.

"We have come with a few more troops than originally discussed." He began talking to the tent as if Akiros was already listening. "I trust that shouldn't hinder our original plan too much. Are you prepared for this?" The question was vague enough to not give too much away to any who may be listening, and their numbers alone should be enough to help with any ambush that he might have set up. There wasn't much left to the process but to execute it, hopefully with as little loss of life as may be necessary.

"If this is a limited space, heading to the left until we have explored it all is a good idea. We're bound to find other things besides undead down here anyhow, so lets stay together." Cal agreed with the doctor's prognosis.

Thanks for finishing out that combat right away. It's nice to keep moving through here. If we decide to continue to the left, it might actually help increase our speed through these kinds of dungeons.

After the refreshments, the lights came up on stage again to show the original set. Fran's voice again was heard, setting the scene and recapping the action but the music was gone. After the richness of the music displayed before, the emptiness of the immortal king's house was palpable. The riches of joy that began the first act was filled with now bankrupt, the loss plainly seen.

With similar words, the two left to the house poured out their grief to one another, but eventually the king raised his shoulders and spoke of something else. "The dark lord has expanded his territory." said the king to his beleaguered daughter as she sat on the floor with her head down, holding the forsaken violin on her lap. "He now wields a weapon of grand quality, and I am to believe it is my fang. It has been too long since it has left this house, and I intend to chase it down and retrieve it."

The ulfen man and the baby returned soon after this point, her settled and him no longer pinching his nose.

The daughter raised her head, mournful emotions contorted her face while real tears streaked her stage makeup. "Oh, my father. I would wish you not to go, but I know you must. The hunt for your honor, you must chase the shining white ivory until it is reclaimed. But I will miss you. Please do not tarry long."

The middle aged man caressed the side of his daughter's face, looking deeply into their brown depths. "You know well as I that the dark lord could not match me, not even with half my strength. I will retrieve it and discover how he came by it. Perhaps we will receive the words we have longed to hear and we may bring the time of sorrow to an end."

"Wisdom is not borne from despair, my beloved daughter. Lift up your head and serve my kingdom until I return and no doubt will assail you after." At that the father left in the same way as his son did before the intermission. The scenery scrolled back and darkness overtook the stage as the music began to swell.

As he approached the dark throne, sitting atop it's grandeur was Calcedon, his celestial costume removed, and wearing a grotesque mask of pain. His body was naked from neck to waist, displaying his gruesome scars in all their glory. Beneath that was a red belt and dark half robes draping to the floor. He addressed the immortal king in royal fashion, but with stilted speech that set all who heard it on edge. "What brings ye to my abode fair king. I have been rejected from your presence already."

The father looked upon the strange sight before him, not shrinking back in fear or grief, but stood with his shoulders square and looked him dead in the eyes. "I have come to retrieve my fang from unworthy hands and to inquire of my son. Pray tell me what has happened to him."

Calcedon leaped from his chair, brandishing the fang in a menacing fashion. "Are you saying the fang is in unworthy hands father? It was you in your wisdom who gave it to me. As for your son, you can see what I've become. Isn't it grand? Are not you happy that I have found such love?"

"But that is my love father! I discovered the only femininity greater than the love of my sister in our eternal home is the warm embrace of the pain of her absence. I have found joy in my pain and delight in my sorrows."

The middle aged man's face contorted into a unveiled contempt of the disgusting thing his son had embraced. "Did the dark lord teach you this nonsense?"

The son turned his head to the side in an unnatural angle, flicking out his tongue in a way that made it seem longer than it should be. "No, the dark lord did not understand. He thought his pain was greater than mine, and so when I tired of his lack of resolve, I ate him. I ate him and his kingdom and I ate even more. I've added his power to my own and discovered things he could not even dream of in his desire for light."

"Then I shall make you cough him up. And then I will force you to see your folly." The father raised his arms attacked. The fight was fairly lengthy with dialogue similar in theme to what was already presented, with Calcedon spouting madness and cackling with ecstasy at his wounds while the father tried to reason with him in his demented state.

Eventually the son stood triumphant over the immortal king. "You see Father, your ferocity cannot win. Your wisdom has betrayed you, and my beloved grants me strength you do not understand."

"You should not taint my fang with your folly. the defeated king said with defiance. "Your decisions have robbed you of your eternal joy, and you will always hunger for more and be unsatisfied."

"But I have not yet consumed all. I will go back to the place of my youth and use this fang to carve up my sister, and then you will realize your error and dash your own pride on the rocky shore of grief."

The new dark lord chained his own father to his throne using the powers of shadow to accomplish his goals. Several figures dressed in black wrapped the chains around the immortal king in accordance to their master's demand. As the menacing Calcedon stalked off in the direction of his sister's home, the immortal king begins to howl, mournful and alone, a warning to the danger of night.

The scenery scaled back to the celestial home to the sound of the orchestra heightening the tension. Standing there in all her glory was the young woman, beautiful and haunting, staring at her brother's inglorious return. "Have you traversed all the worlds?" she spoke, recalling their last conversation.

"And I am yet unsatisfied. I have returned to consume you and so culminate my pain."

"If you believe you understand it, you do not fully understand your own house. The pain felt here does not desire to inflict it upon others. You are too prideful, but perhaps so was I. I never should have let you leave. She held out her hand as her elegant celestial robes draped from her wrist in a display of grandeur.

The mere movement of her arm would not transfix him, and he advanced with malevolent eyes. "And now you admit your folly? I shall make you pay. For I have discovered my pain is greater than you." Bringing the fang to bear, she stopped the blade with her soft hand.

Stage blood poured out on the floor, splattering her dress. "I love you my brother, I cannot allow this hurt of yours to continue. I will take rage and repay you with kindness. I am greater than pain and no madness can avail you from that truth."

Clenching his teeth and his heart, the dark lord loosened his grip on the fang, which his sister pulled away. "My heart!" He excaimed in a sort of pain which he could not find joy.

She continued her assault, as he retreated from her offered and blooded embrace. "I will treasure this, as I treasure your violin. I will heal the both of our pain as you return to me. Let it be as it was meant to be, full of a happiness that not even darkness can take away."

Calcedon evaded her grasp and reared himself up. He removed his mask to look her in the eye. "I cannot allow you to love that which is inferior. I have increased in my power, but I am still defeated."

She continued to hold out her bloodied hand and for the first time since he had left smiled playfully, yet with the pain in her eyes. "Shouldn't I decide? Do you still not trust me? Stay and I will show you what I have learned. For love is not simply for the benefit of one, it is for three. It is bigger than what is deserved, it is the joy of giving without reservation. For you to refuse would only demonstrate your lack. To accept would return joy and wisdom to this land and satisfy all that you were ever looking to gain."

And the curtain fell. Fran's voice echoed throughout the silent hall, "Through her sacrifice and gentleness she moved past her own pain for the sake of her brother. And so the madness was stayed by the beauty's wound."

"A tale of woe, sadness and pain
As far as the black and back again
You don't understand, or perhaps you do
The tale is unquestionably true."

A young varisian woman danced across the stage, immediately entrancing the audience. Bending near impossible angles and leaning and whirling she dared the spectacular moves that caused audible gasps, from both the chairs and from behind the scenes. Soon she was joined by an older middle aged man you had only seen before in the kitchen and Calcedon from opposite sides of the stage. All of them in celestial costumes. Joining in her dance, although not to the degree of skill, the two men take turns showcasing her talent. Though the woman seems warm and accepting toward the older man, she is more tempestuous and cold alternatively toward Calcedon.

A familiar face and voice appears in a booth to the side. "Fran begins the narration. Calcedon seems to pull his violin out of nowhere and begins to play along with the makeshift orchestra. "Long ago, in a far away kingdom lived a immortal king with his children. He was known as the King of Howls and had lived for countless moons, chasing her ever changing celestial beauty. Their love was woefully short as she was so fickle, but when she had gone he found himself another worthy bride, but she also soon was gone. For many years, the son, his older sister, and their father lived together in harmony, ruling together their kingdom."

"Oh my daughter, you are the most beautiful of all. I dare say you outshine your mother, as well as all the stars of the sky." The old man had a booming bass voice that spoke of authority and grandeur. "I could never bear it if you left me to marry another. Promise me you'll stay and grace my house forever?"

The young woman responded. "Where could I find more excellent men in which to keep company? My father, who caught the moon, and my brother who invented the violin. Where in this world or any other could there be a place for me but here?"

Calcedon stepped around the two of them, playing incredibly skillfully and taking long strides in time with the phrases of his music. He spoke over the music as the mood changed. "If you ever left us, I doubt we would ever have laughter or joy again, for you are the source of all that is lovely."

Laughter bubbled out of her at such a statement and she responded in kind. "But who will make me laugh if you ever go to establish your own kingdom? Perhaps you will traverse the dark and find a suitable bride from far away. And no more will laughter grace the house, while I am yet here."

"I will never leave as long as you wish." Calcedon replied, looking earnestly into the young woman's eyes.

"But what is this?" The older man intoned with his grandiose voice.

All attention on stage went to the left, where Henrik entered, costumed in an infernal black, still sporting his trademark scarf, though it looked fairly out of place. "I have come through the black, to search out the greatest beauty of all to bring her back to my kingdom. I have heard of the king who chased the moon, and I have come to ask of him to court his daughter."

For the next half hour, the interplay and drama of this interloper from beyond the stars attempted to woo the lady with demonstrations of power and tales of the vastness of the black which he ruled. The king loudly proclaimed the virtues and wisdom of his daughter. The Daughter was kind and gracious to the visitor, although she would not return his love.

The brother's arc was tragic in it's simplicity. His brotherly love toward his sister, his desire for her to be protected from that which would be inferior to her, his jealousy at the time his sister was spending with the visitor, his anger toward his father for entertaining the dark lord, all of them culminate in a disagreement with his sister even after she sent the suitor back to his kingdom.

"How could you give him a second glance? Are you not wise enough to tell from a glance that he is unworthy?" Calcedon's performance was heartrending in it's anguish.

"And how could you not trust me to make that decision? Did you not sing my praise? Do you not believe me when I said there is no better place?" The young varisian was well and truly his equal in her talent. She commanded the stage with her every entrancing movement.

"There is none who loves you nor can love you like I do. I could search every world and show you there is none who would equal you, and now I have doubt you would trust me!"

"If you will not be satisfied then perhaps you should go. And know that I will be here, waiting for your return that you would believe me when I tell you there will be no laughter or joy until your return."

As the brother turned to go, their father slowed his departure. He carried a polearm with a strange curved blade on the end. "Take my fang if you are to go. It will protect you in the dark from all the things you cannot see. If you use it with joy, you will never lose your way." The middle aged man held out the weapon, and Cal accepted it, exchanging it for his violin. He gave the father a stiff hug before he began walking in place as the rest of the cast exited stage right.

Fran's voice echoed in the chamber for the first time since the beginning. "And so he followed the dark lord into the black, his heart filled with darker sorrow than even the night between the stars." While she spoke, the settings were dragged off the stage in time with Calcedon walking in place to mimic the movement of the scene as the audience follows him to the black throne where Henrik sits in wait. "Blaming the celestial prince for his rejection, the dark lord tormented him for ages. Having a shred of his father's immortality, he could not be killed. But the torture could not touch the pain in his heart. He set down his fang, and let the dark lord have his way."

Calcedon and Henrik obscured what they were doing, but it definitely looked ugly. Red ribbons and darkness pervaded the stage, and Calcedon's cries of pain sounded painfully real. At these cries, the baby became quite fussy as well, and the large Ulfen carrying her got up, holding his nose with one hand and left the ballroom.

The lights on stage went completely black, and Fran announced from her booth. "We are to have a short intermission. Please enjoy some refreshments." To which an old woman who'd been seen in the kitchen before came out carrying some sweets and champagne. Despite looking as old as she did, her hands were steady, and made sure everyone was politely served.

Dang, that took longer than I thought it would. The final part should be ready tomorrow... well, if I didn't have a double shift I could be sure. But we will see what I can do.

Daen bolts upright, with eyes as bleary as expected for one who went to sleep but a half hour previous. He makes his way out of the tent, sword in hand and looks confused at the cow he sees there. "Shoo." he presents half-heartedly, more annoyed than alert. He channels the eldritch glow into the weapon as a further deterrent.

Move action to stand, move action to move, free action to draw sword during move, swift action to light sword.

I've a friend at my gaming table that rolls particularly bad too, usually when he needs to not roll a 1 or 2, he does just that. As a result, he prefers role-play and making interesting characters, and he does just that.

A person might have a strength, or a weakness, but it doesn't make them less valuable as a person. In fact, they may have other things to compensate. But even if they don't, what is done to you by circumstance or crime doesn't make you more or less of a person than what you are.

I guess what I'm trying to say is: We all deal with bad times. We don't blame you for them. Glad you're back.

After the break, Cal came back to note that Zellara had gone. Cal gave a smile toward everyone still assembled, if only apologetically. He pulled out the harpsichord bench again, and straddled it like a horse. The bard leaned over toward Garvid. "You offer a most intriguing proposal. You think that our job isn't quite done with the ambassador then? There are a lot of unanswered questions concerning what went on with that last mission. I would like to understand them as well, but I am a bit under pressure." Grabbing a glass of brandy off of the top of the instrument behind him, he swirled the half gulp still in the bottom and dropped it into his mouth. He motioned to the former guard for a refill.

"I could use my share of the reward to shore up my house and it's many financial responsibilities, or I can instead invest time and some of the money to produce a thriving business that will protect my holdings and allow me to provide for even more artisans and children alike." He glanced toward the door, knowing there was still a kitchen likely full of flour just beyond it.

"If you want to help, I can definitely use it. My house used to be a great one, sitting atop the council, but time, treachery and neglect have not treated it well. I've been making plans for months. Spending money to fix the house is well and good, but making sure the business ventures of my house are profitable can increase the nutrition of the food we eat immediately, which is good for the children. Then once that is taken care of, then the surplus could be used for the house, and we can step from there."

He takes the brandy Garvid offered him and sips at it before continuing. "I've recently acquired a deed to a prime dock on the river. The trouble is that it's been burned to the waterline in the recent upheaval. Now the spot and licensing are taken care of, we simply need to build it. Now building things in town is slightly more complex than just having coin, you need to work with the people nearby and with local labor just to get things moving in a way that is beneficial to everyone or we'll just end up with a lot of resentful neighbors, which is never good for business."

Turning to their resident Shoanti, he reached over and placed his hand on her arm. "The local area has a full contingent of your people, and where I could smooth things over and let them know jobs will be coming available again, if you could handle that, I'd be much appreciative." He gave her arm a little squeeze before turning to the doctor.

"Pietro, your knowledge of alchemy is terribly useful, and I've heard from other docks there's some formulas that preserve the wood in the water so they're not easily rotted out. If you could find those formulas for me, since I don't have an expert in that field already, it could save me quite a bit of time. I know dealing with construction isn't in your normal wheelhouse, but it likely could give you a break from the status quo. I'd also like any other advice or considerations you might have for things as we go. After all, if you had time enough to offer that lowlife on the north end, you have time enough to help me. Perhaps I'll even be able to build you a proper laboratory for your troubles."

Polishing off his glass, he leaned back and addressed the rest of the party. "For the rest of you if you wish to help, there's a need for labor, supervision of hired hands, security and a host of other duties. If you want to help, any of you are certainly welcome to it. I can make sure you gain a better wage than you'd get elsewhere and with the more help I get, the more time I'll have for other things. Once the Pier starts making money again, I'll be able to afford things like fresher food for the little ones and the necessary repairs and replacement furniture of the house."

The bard stood up, obviously full of purpose. "If you do not wish to help, that's fine. I have the capacity to do it myself. But it will take time. I know some of you have other things you will like to do as well, and that those things will be important to you. That's fine as well. I'm no king to order you to help, nor will I insist, or even plead. I'm letting you know that I intend to help the city, and I am going to need to build the proper resources to be able to do so.

"It will likely take me ten days, which should be fine. The ambassador will likely find out that someone else bought his letters well before that, possibly today. If we start poking around immediately, he'll put two and two together and realize we might be involved. Waiting a little while will help alleviate suspicion, and I'll certainly be willing to do the espionage at that time. Before then, we can just gather info in general. Not only do we need the resources, but we'll also need to know how to use what resources we have."

The master of the house stepped into the fray with a disapproving eye. "Roland!" He shouted into the echoing halls. "I don't take kindly to invasions. Take the troops out to the barracks."

At their master's behest, Pobie shows up in the fort, seemingly out of nowhere. "Purates are shown ups in da baraks! Dey use yer cloths fer der sails!" And the four boys tear off down the hall to the exit, roaring their rage against those that would steal their new garments. Garrel takes both floured girls in his arms like one would gather papers that have tumbled to the ground and starts carrying them toward the sea battle.

A sublime young man with a deep tan comes into view from the stairwell and glides down the stairs meeting up with the head of the house. His hair was a black mop that covered his eyes, and he wore fairly non-descript clothing except for an exceptionally bright red scarf around his neck that hung down to his knees. "Anything else you need sir?"

Cal looked a little puzzled, and spoke with his head cocked to the side. "Where's Roland at, Henrik? I need to tell him we're going to do a play."

Henrik shrugged a bit. "Can't rightly say. I'll tell im if I sees im."

The blonde haired man sighed a bit, the days strain taking it's toll. "Fine, fine. Spread the word. We're doing "The Beauty's Wound." My friends need to see it."

"It's been a few monts, but I'm sure we can ave it ready in a day or two. The scarfed man said plainly as if just making conversation.

"Make it two. I'd like to avoid any missteps. I'd like to impress instead of a mess."

After giving a cool vote of confidence with his thumb, the smooth man walked out the door leaving Cal with his thoughts. It wasn't like Roland not to answer. Perhaps he took the night off? But he didn't do that without at least letting him know. Perhaps there was a note. He'd have to check his office later, just to be sure.

---------------

When the deck manifested itself through Yazi, Cal sighed with a bit of annoyance in his tone. "Did you have to make my friend to that? It's hardly polite." He walked over to the side of the room and retrieved his violin where it was stashed next to the harpsichord. "I would have imagined you at least came with purpose. Have we been missing something your clairvoyance can point out?"

Calcedon smiled ruefully toward the former guardsman. "Can't fix? Take care of my own people? Hells, Garvid. I haven't even done right enough by your standard, much less the one I hold myself to today. Let's just say, I was fairly sure that line of Barvasi's about confession as to a priest was meant for me. I'll tell you all what you need to know in due time, but before we do so... a light in his eyes betrayed hope as an idea caught in his mind. "We'll have to watch a play. It will take just a couple days to refresh the players to the script. Though it's not terribly popular, it's fairly well known in my house. I'm sure you will find it enlightening."

The bard nodded to the doctor knowingly, as if to say he did indeed trust these people and he wasn't just stringing them along. He really just didn't like talking about it. "It is the first negotiation we've had with someone who wasn't an official that didn't contain bloodshed, so I'd say we're improving." He gave a wink to the doctor before answering his other question. "Our meeting with her will not take very long. I'm sure she'll be able to fit it in with little delay."

Cal reaches over and ruffles Li's hair a bit. She never did say much when they first met, but she's turned into a bit of a sweetie. "Death is a part of life, albeit a sad one. That's why it's important to learn the sad songs as well as the happy ones. I've no doubt we'll be around for a bit. Not only have I no intention of going anywhere anytime soon, but there's a rumor out there that we've been prophesied to be able to save this town, and we're not well known enough yet for us to be favorable martyrs."

And speaking as a recipient of more magical healing than the lot of you combined, I will say that the only real side effect is that it doesn't usually leave scars unless the caster wants it to do so. He gave Garvid a nudge, "But I do have a craving to eat flies now and again." With that he laughed his infectious laugh at his own joke.

"It's a girl." Daen stated flatly. "Are there any other good reasons to go mad?" He placed a hand on the small of Cyanne's back as he addressed the boisterous fey.

His mind was already whirling even in the midst of his joy. He still needed to talk to Jhod as soon as he could, if they even had time. But first things first. "If he's gathering an army, can we still make an assault on his stronghold with our numbers?" The half elf doubted he could convince Kesten and his men to come with, although Cyanne might be able to do so. If they already had twenty or thirty at the compound, the extra numbers could by them the time they needed to get the job done. But he still needed more information, and it was agonizingly slow in coming.

Acknowledging Kesten and nearly looking sympathetic for the chaos the grig had brought to the fort, the half elf spoke up. "It was a fair bit more busy than was desirable, but we finished our business, and we're as ready as we're likely to be for the task at hand. I hope, other than hosting our spy, that your time was less eventful?"

Daen, seeing his angel struck by the monster that looked like a little girl decided to go all out. He widened his stance and swung the bluish blade with an artful stroke while tracing a rune with his opposite hand. "They'll be no escape for you troublemakers."

Attack: 1d20 + 9 - 2 ⇒ (18) + 9 - 2 = 25
Damage: 1d8 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11
Concentration: 1d20 + 9 - 2 ⇒ (17) + 9 - 2 = 24
ASF 10%: 1d100 ⇒ 45
Spellstrike: 1d20 + 9 - 2 ⇒ (3) + 9 - 2 = 10

<-- Shakes hand with Zoh.

I've never been to Belize.

Intentional? Conventional!
I master rhyme inventional!

I've got a flow so sick people catch the disease,
I pound the beats with a stick and jive the grammar with ease!

Or maybe I've just been watching too much Epic Rap Battles of History
So baby, I'll just leave right now and leave the rest a mystery!

::Drops Mic::

Out of curiosity, is that consumption reduced before or after our farms reduce the consumption? Because if it's after, the -1 stays there, but if it's before or during it actually benefits us to a 0.

Either way, we're going to need that stability roll. Also, don't forget this, depending on the hex we claim.

River: A River allows water travel through your kingdom, facilitating trade and allowing irrigation. Economy increases by 1 for every 4 River hexes claimed, and Stability increases by 1 for every 8 such hexes claimed.

"I can't think of a particular term, but the phrase 'ripe for the taking' would be at least quick-witted." Kaalib had his smoke filled visual aids ready to go as he heard Vosil's plan. Highlighting a crude map of the area with yellow lights was fairly easy, since he had a map for reference right in front of him. "Oleg's is definitely a good plot of land to get, as we could hook up a road to an existing one and increase trade. But we are going to need to claim the Sootscale land soon as well. There have been points in the past that it has been brought up, and it may need to happen soon. With as lucrative as the gold mine has been, tapping that silver vein is also very tempting. I think we will still need to make farms before winter sets in force, but perhaps as early as next month we should get that mine started."

To placate the dwarves, and to make up for our diplomat's ability to produce ale from his personality, I recommend that we build a brewery to produce our own local Fangberry wine. I was approached by an enterprizing young man who has expertise in the field, and I see no reason not to push forward with this possibility."

A brewery would give us a boost to stability, our economy is doing well enough for now. Farms are good too, it doesn't matter to me which hex you want to do, as long as I know what kind of hex it is for my bookkeeping.

Kaalib did realize that Gavril's technique for diplomacy wasn't bad. On paper, it wouldn't have worked. But most deals weren't done on paper, and not everyone thought through things in a logical manner, so it was merely befriending and charisma that won the day. In short, he can do it because people like him. Hopefully it wouldn't bite them in the hindquarters some day. "I do recommend that we finalize the agreement, because the devil can be found in the details. I'd rather not have one there, so we'll have to thoroughly go over them.

"That being settled, at least for the moment, I have a proposition for the raising of an army." Kaalib stood, turned and blew some smoke into the corner of the room. The smoke curled and writhed and from within the smoke came something like a large parchment with a fairly accurate depiction of their new castle. "Now, within our facilities, we have room to house two hundred men. I suggest we fill that." As he spoke, the image on the parchment changed as armored silhouettes proceeded in a column through the door of the castle, and a millitaristic banner was raised at the top of the structure when the last soldier entered.

Seemingly unconcerned with the fantastical nature of his visual aids, he proceeded. "Now, we don't have any real training facilities other than the castle grounds, or even a dedicated martial tradition to help with their efficacy, but having two hundred men in uniform is going to go a long way towards receiving respect from smaller bands of river pirates, misfits and small humanoid clans." A small group of dwarves came up to the castle with weapons drawn, tilt comically to see the banner at the top of the castle, and leave the way they came.

As he spoke the next words, a large coin and a berry floated into the castle. "With the new Fangberry farms and the gold mine, we should be able to afford to feed, outfit and pay this army as a resident task force, that will provide order and security to our little settlement as well. I recommend we nominate someone from this council to take charge of this project and manage these persons so that they are sufficiently busy so as to not cause more of a ruckus, particularly since the ale currently diminished." A large figure that looks to obviously be a representation of Edric brandishing a sword and shield stands outside of the castle, and the silhouettes march out after him and he leads them around in a circle until the pictures on the scroll faded from view.

After they disappeared, a new picture of a water mill on the river faded into view as if being viewed through a mist. The wheel was spinning and a figure was bringing in rough logs and coming out with finely cut lumber. "Also, we are in need of a mill to help with grain and lumber. In the future, we'll likely need a dedicated tree farm in the nearby woods, but for now that need is being met by our immigrant population. This should be possible with our current rate of growth, but we're going to have to be careful on the projects we undertake for a little while. Smaller projects will be useful to us until we are able to build the economy sufficiently."

A 4 level dip and Shaping Focus is all you need in Druid to make full use of their animal line as they get beast shape at level 8. If you want the elemental line, you have to drop 8 levels, but after that other classes are good options. Feral Hunter is also an option, as it gives you a low permanent bonus as well as more skill points.

Then you can take your choice of Barbarian or alternatively Monk, or other martial based class and roll from there. I like to take at least one level of Barbarian first, for the rage and the extra HP.

I've got a lovely tune for the jukebox de Kingmaker. It's a classic from my homeland of Southeast Michigan.

Signed, Sealed, Delivered.

It's in our native language of Detroitan, which I think is a derivative of French.

Good news: As Hideous Laughter is an Enchantment effect, I get a +2 bonus to that save. Bad news: As I am an idiot, I only have a base +4 will save even though I changed it in my stats to a +5. (fixed now.) Worse news: As I cannot roll to save my dignity, none of that matters right now.

Will Save: 1d20 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 4 + 2 = 7

Never has anyone heard their resident half elf laugh excepts snorts of derision due to his fairly sour nature. One would probably have guessed that when overwhelmed with mirth that he was so awkward at it. His face looked like it was in pain as he began laugh, remaining completely silent as the edges of his closed eyes began to slightly tear up. Then the strangest sound erupted from him as he fought for breath as a combination of a pig's snort and a drowning man's gasp.

This happened several times as he valiantly fought to speak, but ended up doubling over again in silent laughter. He never thought poison was this funny before, but it seemed like a fey prank to him.

Hmm, make sure you keep posting links to those songs. They brighten my day.

The only time I take photos is when someone hands me one and asks for an aerial shot.

Yeah, it would give him great cover to travel with his diplomat wife as a bodyguard. Then they could disguise themselves and skulk about. I think they'd make a pretty good team for that kind of thing.

As for Hamilton, I still have yet to see that musical, but it looks really good.

Daen would be a decent Treasurer, Royal Enforcer, or Spymaster. He would want to be a General or a Warden, fluff wise, but both of those would be bad options for him as for stats. I'm leaning toward Spymaster. He has a bit of a ruthless and efficient edge to him, and the organization and info gathering would be something he'd take to rather quickly.

If we don't know the stats of the NPC's, does that mean that you'll be handling all of the paperwork concerning such things? Isn't that a bit of work for you? Or are we going to handwave the actual kingdom and focus on our particular roles and the diplomacy involved?

I also have a limited ability with spreadsheets. I could put together something for the kingdom building to make the math a moot point.

First of all, I know first hand how a psycho ex can ruin your year. (Mine tried to run me over with her car and accused me of raping her so I'd get thrown out of college.) I know it's a tough time for you right now, but the tough times make you strong. I know that sucks to hear, because it doesn't do anything for you now, but if you just focus on your now and not the future, you'll never rise above your circumstances.

Playing a character built for theme is fine, as long as you enjoy it. If you aren't enjoying it, then something's got to give. I remember having a bit of trouble with several of my characters in the past, and really talking through it, in and out of character was a big help to me. Without communication, you do have to fly solo, and as you said, that's a lot of stress on you. Talk with us all about what you're dealing with and we can help. Unlike other people that you know, we're actually on your side and want to see you happy.

That being said (and hopefully to encourage the communication that I recommended), Kaz has a problem I like to call "humble pride". He could easily be better, but he won't because he believes himself to be less than he is. When people try to tell him what they see, it's difficult to impossible for them to be heard because Kaz thinks he knows himself better than he does. It's frustrating to his friends because they know he's awesome, but he won't be. It's a common trope in fiction, but even more common in real life.

Unfortunately, Kaz and you can't have it both ways. You can't remain a simple farmboy and run a kingdom. He's going to have to change in some dynamic ways for him to become what we all want him to become. He can keep his values, but he may not be able to keep his methods. In fact, everyone would agree that his values are one of the things that would make him a good ruler, it's just a matter of getting him to change how he accomplishes them for the good of himself, the group, and your sanity.

The trick is to organically convince Kaz to do something he should do that will be more satisfying to you. Kaz's problems and stresses don't mean as much to me as yours do. I'm perfectly fine with putting him in a tight spot for you to be more comfortable. Say if we come across a magical greatsword. Daen will try to talk Kaz into it because it should be used, and Kaz is the best person to use it. We had to talk him into some nice armor, and I'm not above doing stuff like that again if necessary. He might be uncomfortable, but if you are more satisfied with your character mechanically, I'm fine with him getting used to it.

I can help with the emotional component in character, if you're willing to express your frustration in character. Daen is a bit too dim to realize your feelings unless you tell him plainly. He will try to push you into things that will be beneficial to his martial strengths, because that's something that is of keen interest to him. i.e. not having anyone die again. If Kaz realizes his deficiency in training, Daen does know how to handle all martial weapons and would be more than happy (well, as happy as Daen gets :P) to help train him in the use of anything he's uncomfortable with.

TL/DR:

Talk with us about your frustrations and we'll try to help in whatever way we can.

As for the Army prices, I was looking off of the samples listed here.

Kaalib narrows his eyes at the dwarf. After all, what could be said at this point. She obviously regrets having made peace with him and is unwilling to listen to reason or necessity. Her words hurt him, and he cannot allow such a thing to go without being repaid, but he was too slow to do it in the public setting she did it in, so it would have to do in the courtyard.

"Dwarf!" he shouted once he got her back into his sight line. "You who deserve no name because you desire nothing to make you distinct from the stubborn cusses that spawned you. You cannot decry your selfishness and atone with another selfish act. You said you would be here if I needed you, and I do." The honest admission surprised the kobold as much anyone else. The scales on his face began to glow as the water from his eyes began to steam the instant they came from his eyes.

"I need you to show me that this can work, that I'm not crazy. That there is light and hope for me and my people, that we're not doomed to be worthless. If I can convince you than I can convince anyone and now you're leaving? I need you to stay and if you go from this place, I call you an oath-breaker." He covered his face with his scaly hands and started to go back to his records room only to stop and angrily shout back at her once more. "Damn you if you lied to me! You made me hope!" With that he ran off into a side door and slammed the door, stomping off to his numbers and figures, where things made sense.

After getting the kids to bed, and settled in their new place. They realized that the bunkhouse was several miles away from the squalor they've been living in. Cal was sure to instruct them to tell their fellow Lamms if they found them that they might find a home here too. And after singing them a bit of a lullaby, he bid them good night.

It was not a good night after all. Garrel informed him of the shouting he'd heard throughout the city, the King was definitely dead, riots were taking place, and they being fairly close to the Citadel were doing fairly well, while other parts of the city were really bad. The Hellknights had also moved in, which was bad news. He couldn't imagine their type of order having a seamless or bloodless transition in the area. He knew better than most. While there was some real decent folk among them, more often they attracted those who wanted a respectable reason to be cruel, and were fairly biased in their interpretation of the law in order to accomplish whatever kind of oppression they could muster.

Needless to say, he didn't sleep well. Not that he really ever did, as he was so haunted by his past. As scarred as his body was, his soul had been cut deeper yet and he was far from healed. He stood in the hallway on that third floor for almost a half hour before he made his way into the master bedroom, and hopped over the strewn about messes of papers and music to reach the sanctuary of his bed. His violin had made it to it's resting place within reach, and he lay there, staring at the ceiling for what seemed like hours. Eventually he relit his lantern and stared out the window, waiting for the real dawn to arrive.

His suspicions were made true. The locket was from his family, and the only way Lamm could have gotten it, was if he was instrumental in the death of his parents. Lamm had killed them. And now he was also dead. He knew it was better this way, but still felt hollow. His parents were still dead, nor could they really speak to him anymore. They couldn't yell at him for the common people he let live there, they couldn't try to set him up with a Jeggare or Endrin anymore, they couldn't complain about the way he handled his business. And so the loss was still so real, that the justice just felt empty.

But he had something, he took it back. The locket was there. He opened it up and took a look inside. "What kind of joke is this?" Inside was a picture of a little blonde girl. Calcedon was an only child. It could have possibly been of his mother, but she was raven like most good Cheliaxian nobles. In fact, until just last year, no Fordyce had girls since his great-great aunt Carlotta. It was a source of sadness for his mom as well. Sometimes she would be sadly looking out a window, and he'd ask her what it was and she said that she was just...

The sudden thought struck him like a ton of bricks. He would have to go to the library. He did not wish to go there, because that's where...

He threw on his night robe and headed to the stables. Rummaging through the closet there, he found a prybar and stalked across the courtyard, looking quite the madman. He burst in the open door and to the locked and boarded room at the far end of the entrance hall.

The library was a two story room, with the balcony abutting the grand entrance of the main house, and rows of tall books spanned nearly twenty feet of vertical space. Down on the bottom floor was a wooden platform that was used as a stage where his mother and he would do plays while his father sat at his desk, sipping some port wine and reading, while occasionally being distracted enough to applaud. It also became the site where his uncle would cut into his flesh every night, whispering horrific things in his ears, inciting him to madness and fear and pain and cruelty.

He hadn't been in there in years. He stood in the doorway now, willing himself to move in, to step with his foot on the familiar wooden floor of the balcony, to inhale the smell of the books, to remember the good. But it was overwhelmed by the smell of blood and the picture of his intestines dangling from hooks replaying over and over. He dropped the pry bar and his stomach relieved itself of it's contents right there on the threshold.

Wiping his mouth, he turned around to see Roland standing there, white-haired and wrinkled, his face completely impassive. "Shall I clean this up for you, sir?"

Roland had only been with him for about nine months, but had been a servant his entire life before hand, so he was used to this kind of eccentric behavior, or at least he didn't show that it was upsetting to him. "Yes, Roland. I've done it again, I'm sorry. I can't go in there."

"It seems so, sir." He replied with a calmness that seemed almost out of place.

Calcedon blanched a bit, his stomach roiling within him some more. He had never even let anyone set foot in that library either, but there were things he had to know. The very thought of sending anyone in the library made him clench his teeth, though the Priests he'd sent in there to expel any unholy auras or conjured or spiritual monsters had found nothing. The danger was only in his mind, but that made it even harder to deal with.

"I... Would..." he began, almost able to form the words. At the last minute, he abandoned it for something easier. "Would you put the door back and nail it shut again as well?"

"Certainly, sir." He droned. "Will that be all?"

Calcedon suddenly felt the wave of exhaustion settle in that he should have experienced long ago. "Yes, Roland, thank you. I'll see you at morning salad."

Roland nodded gravely. "Very good sir." And bowed his head with one hand across his belly and the other behind his back as the master of the house stumbled up the stairs and headed for bed again.

Sorry I couldn't get to morning quite yet. I'll see if I can do it tomorrow. It will give Garvid and Jamros a chance to post if they want.

"Luthor, if you will, some lights would be nice." he spoke politely but without much emotion, his mechanical mind focused on the task at hand. "I'll go in first, then Kaz, Luthor, Cyanne and followed by Lali, unless someone has a reasonable objection. The sooner we can finish this, the faster we can enjoy the rest of our time here with good food and company." He steps into the tunnel, keeping his eyes darting to and fro, inhaling any information that would give him an edge against his enemies.

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17

Fort Save: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 14

"Ugh! These goblins are truly disgusting creatures. Let's rid this town of this unfortunate blight. I imagine we can smell this from Oleg's." Despite the unfortunate interruption last night, Daen was still in a fairly good mood. He was slightly distracted by the thought of going to the bakery later. He hoped that he would turn out to be acceptable to her relatives. It would be nice to have at least one family to be able to visit providing things did not go quite as bad as they thought they might.

Calcedon stands strong in the midst of the crowd, able to look down on the fat man as his support fails him. "Yes, you'd better run. It would certainly help your figure."

Chuckling at the amount of actual courage in the mob, Cal turned to the young nobleman and smiled, giving him a lift to his feet. "I'd have done it for anyone. Troublemakers should never get their way." When he's recognized, he grins sheepishly and rubs the back of his head with his gloved hand. "Normally, I wouldn't, but no special favors needed. Stay safe out there, and don't stay out so late in the future."

Cal handed the thank offering to Garvid and mentioned something under his breath. "That will feed the kids for a few weeks."

The bard continues to move through the streets, leading the procession at least by word until they get to the high bridge. Smiling and waving to the guards to show Mouse and the children that everything is just fine, he leads the procession through the barricade and to the left as they get off the bridge leading them up toward his estate.

---------------------------------

"Welcome to my ancestral abode. Built in 4498, five years before the cousin's war, It originally didn't have walls. But as tensions increased, they became necessary. We're sure glad to have them now, as it does help keep the bad guys out." He made a grand wave of his arms at the fifteen foot wall surrounding a full city block. There were several other estates in the area, including one of the Jeggare estates as well as a guardhouse they had passed already so it didn't look too much out of place.

He took them around the northwest corner and came to the ancient gate. Taking his gloved hand, he ignored the bell and sung out a long solid note followed by a intricate flourish of notes that seemed impossible to duplicate, the hand following the flow of his voice with an elaborate dance of it's own. They all had about three seconds to wait until the solid wooden and massive door started rattling as the bar was lifted from the other side. It creaked open a moment later, with a tall and thin half elf poked his bleary-eyed face out with a weary smile. "Oi, First Chair. You've been out late. Not going to miss morning salad are ye?" Though he was near seven feet, his voice was soft and gentle, quite easily a tenor with his own musical way of speaking.

Cal beamed at the doorman. "No, Garel. I wouldn't miss it for sleeping in like some people I know. Let me and my friends in already, we're going to need some baths too, so run and fetch Vran and Pobie. It's still their turn until sunrise. Tell them I'll make it worth their while."

With a nod and a "Sure, sure..." he padded rhythmically toward the main house along with a wide yawn that seemed like a brass trumpet scaling down. Cal ushered them all in and tasked Garvid to help him replace the bar as he continued his history lesson. "This gate's never fallen, but they broke through the walls on the west and south sides. Though we built the place, our family didn't regain it back for almost fifty years, but we've been here ever since."

As they turned from the gate toward the main house, there were a few other buildings around the estate. A small well was housed in the center of the courtyard, a small theater that seemed to be hastily converted from some stables, and a fine secondary building looking somewhat like a bunkhouse of some kind. "Most of the houses originally built over on the East Bank had a strong tie to the Millitary. I've had two ancestors that have run the Guardsmen, but that was generations ago. In the house proper, I can house sixteen guests, and the bunkhouse is adequate for fifty men, although we run a fair bit shy of that these days. Also, I don't do the millitary thing anymore, you'll find this house full of musicians and artists of all flavors."

Over toward the stables, in the corner of the courtyard there was several stone statues in various states of carving from blocks. The most prominent of which was an exaggerated and nude carving of Calcedon himself. As they passed by, Cal commented on them. "Well, I should say 'aspiring' artists and musicians. Some of them need a fair bit more practice. They just can't seem to get my nose right."

The entrance to the main house next to the stables had a tiled mud room. It was obviously purposed to give any riders a chance to not only refresh themselves but make sure the interior of the house remained clean as well. "Ladies first, and when you're done, the gentlemen will proceed. If you're uncomfortable, I'm afraid I must insist on everyone scrubbing. I just don't trust our late acquaintance's hygiene practices. We've had a problem with fleas in the past and it took us near a month to get rid of them all."

Kaalib straightened his papers in front of him and cleared his throat with a puff of smoke. "The issue with getting an army right now isn't gold, we have enough cash flow, it's the food. We need to allocate more space for farms, and possibly a few fisheries to be able to feed the army. We could get by if we claimed the mine as long as we continued to survey more land for farms in the coming months.

Even with the castle under construction, we have enough space therin to house two hundred troops. We don't have the training facilities to make anything besides a basic militia, but the numbers alone should dissuade small groups from trying to take advantage of our lands. If we ever wanted to deploy them, it would cost..." He shuffled his papers, "...at least four fold, and it would be good to have a granary for extra stores in case we need to protect our assets away from town."

He took off the spectacles that he somehow balanced on his snout and continued. "As far as the Kobolds go, they can do the job. If we want to encourage them to be more civilized, I actually recommend using some of the silver profits to build them actual housing. We can also invite the chief to Concord and let him see what we're able to build here, after we have our army of course, and perhaps it will encourage him to be more cooperative if he believes he can eventually get some of the same kind of living conditions. The thing that convinced me was spending time in Restov, and actually seeing how the whole system works."

Calcedon put his hand out to stop the train for a second with a bit of a disgusted look on his face. "I am pretty sure all of you are invited to my house, but there's no way I'm taking a disembodied head into my sanctum. At the very least, leave it here in it's own house. The Grey is in the opposite direction, and we'd be heading toward the heart of the riots to do that. I think a later time would be fine, perhaps in the morning. We're heading that way then anyhow. For now, lets just get these kids somewhere safe." He takes the hat box, sets it on the mantle, and waves them on.

Mister Calcedon? Y' sure...y' sure I ain't gonna get in trouble bein' there? Th' Eas' Bank, I mean?

The bard turned to the short half elf with a smirk followed an obviously fake stern face. "Let's get one thing straight, young lady. My house name is Fordyce, so if you're to use Mister, it would be Mister that." His face lightened back to his regular positive and friendly attitude. "But my friends call me Cal, or other daring nicknames. I don't insist on ceremony when I'm the only one who knows about it, okay?"

He takes a slightly more serious note for his next statement. "Mouse, all the streets are dangerous tonight. You will not be the most unsavory person out tonight by far. Unless you've annoyed more people than I have, a feat which I doubt anyone here could duplicate, you'll hardly be noticed." He gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and then filed out with the rest of them.

--------------------------

Seeing the crowd surround the nobleman, Cal had half a mind to just let it happen. Of course he couldn't do that. It didn't really matter who it was, actually. It also was a problem that they really had no way out of this particular predicament.

He walked boldly into the crowd and spoke to the chubby spokesman. "I doubt you've worked a day in your life either, since working men aren't covered in fat. How do we know you're not a Queen's man, or just a layabout or thug living off of other people's sweat? Though he might have grown up with rich food, it's obvious to me whose been licking the silver spoons clean. Where'd you get that pipe anyhow? Did you break the last bath you got in? No, I'm sorry. I'm sure you've never seen one."

I'm going to use a performance to fascinate this group of guys. There are threats of riots all around, but these are rioters, I would think they'd be not worried about a fight. We don't have weapons out, and no one is threatening them. If I can distract them long enough for the rest of us to get around them and off the other way, or at least for the nobleman to escape, if he's capable of rational thought, that's kinda the plan.

I've also never used this before, I've always wanted to try it, so if it just doesn't fit, let me know. If it does work for the situation, they need to make a will save DC 14 or just stand their looking dumb while I insult them. Otherwise, this'll get kinda ugly.

"But I am." said a small but educated voice, having silently padded up during the conversation. His arms were currently filled with papers and scrolls, having another recommendation for the council that had suddenly been shelved.

He dropped the papers in a messy pile, and walked up to the rest of the gathered council members. "Those are my people, and I have to do something. The kobolds have kept to their agreement, which is rare enough in these parts. And you're going to let a hundred dwarves kill off allies that have not betrayed you to work a half spent silver mine when there's a gold mine a few miles north of there with no one to work it? Ah, yes. Very good policy there. I'm certain all your advice will be equally sensible.

"Never you mind that this particular kobold has already saved this land the loss of several of it's council members, including some present before we started this endeavor. Never you mind that he's saved more money than a silver mine fully functioning could earn us in a year. All so very smug to casually invite and off his family so you can feel more comfortable. It's pathetic really, that you would so quickly abandon reason to pursue the type of politics that has left Brevoy in shambles. And here, I thought we could surpass them, but with you stuck in the past, the people here fare no better."

He opened his mouth, and Orsheval flew out, making a beeline for the Kobold's home at his top speed. Kaalib turned on his heel and headed for his horse.

Orsheval says: Ruler is cute when she's pouty. Can we lecture her some more?

Kaalib nonverbally threatens to roast familiar.

After short scrum, flying papers and more smoke than should make any records keeper nervous, Kaalib sits trying and failing to exude an air of sophistication.

...

..

.

No one was quite sure where Kaalib had picked up the spectacles, but as his eyebrows arched, they slid down his nose like a begrudged librarian. "Look, I don't necessarily want to get into minimizing expenses and their importance on the liquidizing assets, so I'll just say this simply. If we spend money on parties, we can't build, expand, or defend our kingdom on that money we spend. Debt will ruin a kingdom much faster than the hum-drum of daily existence. Will it take until we've reached that point for you to listen to reason?"

He sighed a puff of smoke and pushed his glasses back up before attending to some parchments. "My question is simply this: where does it end? One party now, twelve parties tomorrow. Fine. Do what you must, I'll see what I can do to make it work. In order to make up for the deficiency, we'll have to push off our promotional materials until the end of the first year, perhaps longer."

As if a thought suddenly struck him, he unrolled a parchment and sighed again as he studied it. "Holding a standard festival will cost us approximately resources which could be liquidated to about twenty four thousand gold. Couldn't you just spend a thousand gold of your own and make a personal appearance?"

-----------------------------

Note 1: Just realized Fangberry hex does not contain water. If we want to build farms there, we must also build a canal, or claim D4 and build a farm there first. The good news is we're closer to the Gold Mine, but the bad news is that our consumption is going to just keep going up if we build that first.

Note 2: Having Consumption is bad. It would be best if we didn't have any. Just one festival a year costs us consumption. If we don't have the farms to pay for it, we have to do it out of our BP. That's 12 BP in a year. It's enough to pay for a granary out of pocket. 6 festivals could pay for a Theater in a year. The only way to make these things work for us instead of against us is if we make farms a priority. Which we haven't really done. So we pay the money. Farms are worth 2BP a month when they match Consumption. They give you the most bang for the buck on that front. Make sure they work for us, okay?

Note 3: Magna might not be into kingdom building, but she knows how to make money.

Note 4: A Headband of Int +2 keyed to Diplomacy can get at least your level in ranks if you don't have them. Custom items that give circumstance bonuses are relatively inexpensive. A +10 cape of Diplomacy would cost about 10k. Kaalib has Craft Wondrous Item now, so if you're looking for a little magical help, look no further.

Of course, you can always make a Diplomatic Delegation and take twenty people along who aid another for a +40 to your check. That's probably cheaper.

TLDR: You want the parties? Start focusing more on farms.

Yeah, give him the Mod.

We'll buy a cold-iron Dueling Sword, Battle Axe and Rapier then? We have Arrows for Lali, but if she wants a hand axe or something like that, we could probably afford it.

Since Luthor has healing yet, perhaps just two potions of healing, and we'll keep an eye on it at night, keeping watch like our normal watches. Ret-con it for morning, and we'll all heal 3 more hp, and the ones of us with spells will have a full compliment.

Edit: GM, you said you'd take it out of our earnings? I'm cool with that. Daen has like 6gp right now.

Daen was really eager to beat em up some gremlins, but he's willing to push it to the next day as long as they kept watch over the hole.

But if this is more stressful for you Aest, or even if it's stressful for Kaz, I'm fine with hand waiving the whole thing if you want. I think it would be best if we all were having fun, as opposed to just a couple of us. If you want to press on, let's just do it. We can put some family meetings in flex time and head on back to the Stolen Lands. I'm really enjoying the whole of this campaign, and I'm perfectly willing to bend to keep the GM motivated and happy. You put in way more work than the rest of us do, and I want to see you enjoy the fruits of that.

As your treasurer, I recommend not implementing edicts that will cost us Consumption until we have an economy to handle such. The bonuses to our income through a greater economy will not take care of the amount of BP we will eat through. Our current Consumption is 3, it will be 5 when we claim a hex and build a settlement. If we simply change our edicts in a couple of months once we're able to self-sustain and be sure of our resources.

My recommendation is no holidays for the first six months, no promotion for the first three months, and to make up for the lack of holidays, no taxes for the first year. We'll still make money, it's just such a low tax rate that people will be pretty happy about it.

In any case, my numbers tell me that this will give us between 12-15 more BP in the first year with which to build a better infrastructure for the future. I agree that those edicts suggested are a good place to end up, but to start, we might need to tighten the belt.

The recommendations for a Castle and a Noble Villa are good, I propose we move forward with them.

<---- Not dead yet.

Also, although Talia was not necessarily on Kaalib's radar, he'd be willing to give it shot. I could switch my 2nd level spell for Alter Self and we'd even probably get her pregnant and pop an heir in the next year.

That's fair.

Anyhow, since Kaalib will be taking a fair amount of time away from adventuring, I might have him do a little retraining if it's okay with OGGM. He can pick up Spell Specialization again at 5th level, so it's not that big of a deal.

I want him to have Craft Wondrous Item. He's willing to craft for his friends for a minimal fee. (He'll make any item at cost that he can make, with a 10gp per day charge for his time.)

""Today is the first day of the future. Today is the day of reckoning, when the evils that have plagued this lands are vanquished. And you, more than anybody else, have proven yourself better. You have gained my trust, and my friendship. I saw you saving me, so I will be in your debt, whenever you need me."

Kaalib smiled in a toothy, lizard like fashion. She had noticed, and his debt was recognizably paid. This made things a bit easier. "Regardless of our differences, we both have a healthy respect of law. It is the bright light of civilization, and by it I hope to bring my people out of their barbarism. I may have to duel my own chief to bring this end, and if that happens, I would ask you to be my second. We can keep the trickery to a minimum under your watchful eye, to be sure. The mere reputation of the one who killed the Stag Lord should make it a surety"

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Over the next few days, as the trip progressed back to Oleg's, Kaalib's demeanor became even more serious. It was possible that with the power void, his chief would do something stupid in the area. After discussing it with Talia, the kobold made plans to visit his home instead of finishing the exploration. He would never really be far away, especially if they did settle here, and he made plans to visit at least once a month for a few days to keep diplomatic ties open.

The half elf wrinkled his forehead. "Cold Iron, then? That makes sense. I've heard it works well against the chaotic, even some demons. Having some weapons made from that material could definitely be useful to us in the long run. Svetlana's father has a forge, he may have some cold iron weapons around, but we might have to look elsewhere."

He was a little anxious to get to the fey nest. Now that he knew the source of the problem he trained his attention on it as a mountain lion with his prey. "I very much would like to go to your brother's bakery, but I'd like to be able to linger there. I'm afraid I would much rather grab something quick if we need to eat and take care of this infestation as soon as possible. Then, in triumph enjoy your families delicacies."

As he mentioned that, the quick realization of the double entendre caused the tips of his ears to blush a bit. He tried to get back to the subject even though he was distracted by his wayward mind. "I'd like a new sword in any case. This one I have is an old hand me down. Now that we have a few resources, a proper one would be useful, and one of a special material would be doubly so."

The wheels in Daen's head spun round, whirring quite nicely. If the girls came across gremlins when looking into the Burnt Onion, then it would make sense that the fey were behind the attack and not the various nobles who were fighting in the first place. He leapt from his thought process into his words as he cleaned off his glowing sword with a cantrip before stowing it in it's rightful place. "Well, I suppose our benefactors would appreciate if we took care of the problem. What do we do, look around for riots? With these around, I wouldn't be surprised to find more of that."

He watched the ladies comfort each other for a bit, feeling a bit out of place. He thought that this was business, and they thought it was personal. Hopefully they'd all get it worked out themselves, so he turned to the men. It was obvious that Kaz hadn't fully recovered from being dead as of yet if such a short skirmish would make him that tired. That second spell couldn't come soon enough. "Did either of you note that they were hard to damage? I felt like I was trying to chop wood."

The half elf straightened his shirt contemptuously as the crowd let him go. Spending a bit more time on his cuff, he nodded gratefully to Kaz's intercession when he was again grappled. This time was more welcome as he hugged her in return, basking in the aura of pheromones wafting up from her bright blue tresses.

As she let him go to go tend to the other bard, he cleaned his sword and sheathed it. He spoke to Kaz as they regrouped. "Gremlins, I presume? Never heard of one before today. I found them to be a bit tougher than I expected them to be."

The swordsman stood by with his arms crossed. It wasn't important for him to get into this matter. He of all people was least qualified for this kind of work, possibly excepting Ellie. The best thing he could do was listen and analyze the information as it came in. He had learned Orcish from Zohruk early in their relationship, and found it pretty useful on the battlefield as well. Perhaps this particular stop will help, perhaps it won't, but to him it was worth the risk.

The half elf's eyebrow arched a bit as the wound he leveled on the creature refused to follow his promise. That strike should have hewn through the joint at least. He was fairly sure that was about the best he could do. If quality wouldn't finish the job, then quantity surely would. He raised his arm to bring about another blow when hands grabbed him from behind. He twisted and managed to get the glowing blade toward the monster in front of him despite the grasping crowd. "No!" He grunted through gritted teeth. "You're fools all of you. That is no girl!"

Attack: 1d20 + 9 - 2 - 2 ⇒ (12) + 9 - 2 - 2 = 17
damage: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8

Intimidate: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (16) + 5 = 21

Daen's eyes narrowed into slits and his brow furrowed like a freshly plowed homestead. This wench's twisted logic wouldn't help here. He didn't care if he got a bad reputation out of this. "Help your monster friend start a riot you mean. Now, I don't like games. You'll shut your mouth or I will cut off your arm and everyone will see whether or not you're a monster. You can trust me on that. Lay down and be quiet or suffer a fate far worse than bullying."

Ready action to slice off her arm if she speaks another word.