You each received a letter from Lady Glorianna Morilla, inviting you to join in an adventure.
And so you traveled to the town of Silverhall in Brevoy, the fortified capitol of the Lebeda family’s territory, on a diplomatic mission for Lady Gloriana Morilla.
A fire burns merrily in the large hearth of the audience chamber, casting warm light over the long wooden table and high-backed chairs. A pair of guards opens the engraved wooden doors, and a regal woman enters, her hair tied into a tight bun. The guards stay by her side as she scans the room and then takes a seat at the head of the table.
“You must be Lady Morilla’s Pathfinders. I am Dame Sarrona Lebeda, and I am well aware of your desire for the Horn of Aroden. I am sympathetic to the cause of the crusade, and am curious to learn whether the Horn’s magic can be returned; however, the horn has already been pledged to King Noleski Surtova as a fitting part of the dowry for my daughter’s hand in marriage, and such promises cannot be overturned lightly. Nonetheless, I am willing to find a replacement gift in exchange for one kindness on your part: bring my son back home."
“As of late, my son Lander has been neglecting his duties in favor of playing the part of an adventurer. His swordplay admittedly shows promise, but wielding a weapon is only one facet of being a proper lord. Worse, the style and legacy that he has become obsessed with is that of Baron Aldori, which many houses perceive as a sign that we are not as committed to a unified Brevoy as we may appear. The truancy of a second child may not seem much of a threat, but with his older sister spending her days in the capitol negotiating the web of Surtova politics, the increase of bandit activity and wolf attacks in our lands, and Lander neglecting his responsibilities within our holdings, I am concerned that he is as much a liability to our family as an asset. You are adventurous types yourselves, and understand the hazards and difficulties of the lifestyle. Perhaps you could find Lander and convince him that the way of the sword is not the life he romantically envisions?”
Diplomacy (gather information) or Knowledge (nobility) concerning Lander Lebeda.
Lander is the younger of Dame Sarrona’s two children. He is good looking, and has caught the eyes of several noble scions in Silverhall.
Lander has always been fascinated by stories of bravery and derring-do. When he was a child, he spent hours questioning soldiers, guards, and mercenaries about their campaigns and fights against monsters. His collection of Brevic military histories is second to none in Silverhall.
Lander was seen recently slaughtering dire rats and other urban vermin with a finely made sword—hardly proper behavior for a young lord!
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A slender wiry man walks into the meeting area wearing nondescript traveling clothes along with a scarf tied around his neck in the latest fashion for Absalom. A closer look reveals his light brown hair flows out down past his shoulders, currently braided in a stylish way. Sky blue eyes peek out from his youthful face. His lean, wiry body is covered in dark tanned skin with a reddish undertone only noticeable in bright light.
He gives each of you nod of greeting, "I am Wadi Ahk'kolon, a semi-retired Pathfinder and now encouraged to take up the cause once again. It is a pleasure to make all of your acquaintances!" He offers all of you a courtly bow.
Of the nobleman he knew little, save he was good looking, and has caught the eyes of several noble scions in Silverhall. Perhaps convincing him to pursue a relationship will curb his appetite for adventure?
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A 6'2", 200# ulfen male walks into the room wearing mithral chain shirt and carrying a cold iron morningstar on his hip. As he looks over the room you notice/feel a pale, cool mist seems to cling tightly to his body. He chooses a chair furthest from the fireplace and sits down.
"I am Glorne. It is a pleasure to help in this matter. I have a question, if Lander fails to listen to reason, should we bring him in by force?"
Dame Lebeda lets out a long sigh.
“My son is a proud and headstrong individual. Each time I send one of the household to retrieve him, he becomes increasingly resistant to persuasion. I am hoping that he might be more willing to listen to capable strangers."
"I fear that if you bring him in by force, he may not like it, and might even resist you. But if that is the only option, then so be it. I just hope he doesn't resent me too much for this.”
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A dwarf is also present in the audience hall, standing in front of the fire and clearly comfortable taking up space. He's decked out in an absurd array of equipment: flasks, bags, powder horns, and mysterious spheres hang all over him, and every inch of his armor and gear seems to have visible buckles, toggles, and pulls to make it easier (?) to manipulate. At his left hip a strange weapon sits in a leather holster, almost like a wand with a crossbow trigger, while at his right hip a dwarven waraxe is proudly displayed. His chestnut hair and beard are full, though he has a silver white streak running backward from his forehead through his unruly mane.
Before Dame Lebeda arrives, he greets the other Pathfinders. "Not sure why I'm here, frankly--diplomacin' ain't exactly m'thing--but I'm glad enough t'be somewhere new an' different! The name's Graxzos. My friends call me Grax. You c'n call me Graxzos. HAHAHAHAHA!" he chuckles and snorts at his own joke. "Good t'meet yeh, Glorne, Maanyatha, Wadi. I admit t'bein' curious about this horn!"
Graxzos listens to Dame Lebeda outline her problem, but grows increasingly agitated, rolling his eyes visibly near the end. "So yer gonna part wit' a priceless artifact if we c'n find yer runaway li'l boy? Dame, yeh left out some important information: yeh got any idea where he ran off to?"
Dame Lebeda smiles, "Priceless to some, perhaps, but to a mother, no price is too high to pay for the safety and well-being of a son."
“Lander has taken to associating with a blacksmith named Marek Bogdan. Marek is a retired soldier and a practitioner of the Aldori style, and Lander says he’s a fine instructor, but my son spends too many hours at the Three Tongs smithy practicing his swordplay when he should be overseeing our cottars and building alliances. He was headed to the Three Tongs when last I saw him, two days ago.”
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In contrast to Graxzos' appearance, the man striding into the room is tall, clothed in the simplest of clothing, and has not a single hair on his head. His skin has a slightly greenish tone to it, and the skin around his eyes almost appear to show signs of...scales?
"Dame Lebeda, it is said "blood is thicker than water", although I prefer to add water seems to come between blood far too often. We will assist you, indeed it is the reason we are here. But, I believe, we would still assist you otherwise."
"We have enough information to track down the young man. Would there possibly be some personal information we could use to help convince Lander to come back with us?"
"Lander is a rash and opinionated young man, though well-versed in etiquette and polite to his superiors. As a nobleman, he is ill-disposed towards taking orders or commands. He is also a very proud young man, so, if I were you, I might avoid mentioning his mother sent you."
She stands, and walks to the mantelpiece where a portrait of herself, her late husband, and her two children, Lander and Elanna, hangs.
"To tell you the truth, Lander has lacked a good role model since Lord Lebeda died. I have served as a capable regent, I think, and taught him well about rulership, but I think it was lacking. This is what has led to his obsession with Baron Aldori and his legacy, which is a problem in it's own right, separate from his budding love for the swashbuckler's life."
"I'm not aware of Lander having a lover. But I suppose mother's don't know all their sons do. Every eligible girl in Silverhall, a city of 4,000 people, not to mention probably half of the ineligible ones, would kill to be with my son, and for good reason. House Lebeda remains rich and powerful, and we're poised to be even more so after my daughter marries the king. Not to mention how handsome Lander is, and that's not just a mother's kind words."
She returns to her seat, adjusts her gown, and sighs yet again.
"I'd like to say that it was because he was waiting for a higher match, but he's made nothing but the most perfunctory gestures seeking one. Lately, especially, the only thing he's been romantic about is his concept of high adventure, that much I can say for sure."
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"Hmph. Well, we c'n look into where he might've gone an' bring him back. I've brought back much crazier s#*+ from much more dangerous places, so shouldn't be too difficult, yer ladyship," Grax says curtly. He glances around at the other Pathfinders.
"Anyone else got any questions? I think I'm good."
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Striding in last, a man with dead looking but greased up hair and skin with a yellowish palor walks in to the briefing.
He wears heavy armor that is covered in green rope knotted in a specific threefold pattern.
I wonder what fate has your irresponsible son going off into headlong. Is he...in pursuit of a woman he wants to impress? Or perhaps craving your affection? It would be best to know how to approach him his voice rasps dryly but in a kind tone. Despite his horrifying visage and the remains of past maladies upon his body he genuinely seems interested in helping however he can.
"As I said, I don't think it has anything to do with a woman. And I don't understand why he'd be craving my attention. He is driven by his obsession with the legend of Baron Aldori, and a nascent love for adventuring, as far as I can tell. I can't talk sense into him."
She stands once again, "Well, if there are no more questions, I'll ask that you leave me. I have other supplicants to attend to."
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Wadi rises to his feet and offers Dame Lebeda a courtly bow, "Thank you for your time Milady. We should not tarry any further as every moment passing puts your son that much further away."
Once his fellow Pathfinders are together he nods to them, "So I believe the Three Tongs where that blacksmith Marek Bogdan awaits? Do we need to stop for supplies before meeting again?"
Diplomacy (gather information) or Knowledge (nobility) concerning Marek Bogdan.
Marek Bogdan owns the Three Tongs smithy and is a skilled artisan who specializes in making weapons.
Marek trained to become an Aldori swordlord for several years before moving south to Silverhall.
Marek’s maker’s mark is the sign of an eagle clutching a pair of tongs. He has little respect for authority, particularly inherited authority.
Marek’s departure from the Aldori Academy was not voluntary—he was discharged following allegations of sedition, and took up smithing out of necessity. When he drinks, he often mutters obscenities about Issia and a unified Brevoy.
Racks of weapons and metalwork line the walls of the Three Tongs smithy, and the forge is visible through a wide door. A pair of crossed Aldori dueling swords hangs on the wall opposite the front door. The antlers of several deer and elk decorate the walls. A staircase wraps around the eastern wall, leading upstairs.
Marek Bogdan is working in the back, but the burly human smith quickly notices potential customers and moves into the storefront to talk.
"Well met, outlanders. What can Bogdan do for you on this warm spring day?"
Marek is a bald Taldan man approaching middle age. His skin has been rendered leathery by years of working the forge, and his black beard and eyebrows are patchy from occasional sparks.
The weapons here are of decent workmanship, but few are masterwork. Longswords and battleaxes, a few greataxes, greatswords, and polearms, as well as chain shirts, chainmail, and scale mail. Lots of rapiers and Aldori dueling swords.
You notice Marek's maker’s mark, an eagle clutching a pair of tongs.
After looking around a bit, Maanyatha does come across what appears to have been a katana, but it is broken into three pieces, lying on a dusty workbench. Probably something the smith bought from an adventurer as scrap, but never had the time or skill to repair.
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Wadi knew little of the blacksmith, seeing as he did not need such cruse tools to defend himself. Putting on a smile he greets the man, "Well met Master Bogdan! We actually are looking for a mutual friend of ours to relay a message to him. Name is Lander Lebeda and if you could point us to where he headed out we would be most grateful!"
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Dante smirks. He knew this mark.
Ah so you are THAT Marek Bogdan Dantes dry rasp of a voice says as he lifts a blade and inspects the mark.
Your legendary skill with the blade has carried all the way to Ustalav. You were a mentor for the young Lebeda heir? That seems a bit odd given what I know your history...I would have to find out the boy has been a pawn in ill-concieved political machinations..
"No, I don't think that weapon could be fixed by a smith of my skill," says Marek.
"Not customers then? Yes, I know young Lander. Come back here, and have a seat."
The man leads you to an upstairs room, cramped and soot-smudged but comfortable, with a number of sturdy wooden chairs set out around a small table and a quilt-covered bed built into a corner. Marek offers each of you a glass of mare’s milk or liquor.
A stuffed eagle clutching a pair of tongs perches above the door to the staircase. A cage holding pigeons hangs just outside the window.
He looks over at Wadi as he begins, "I last saw Lander two days ago. He was headed out of town on the southwestern road. Over the past month or so, he’s been trying to put his training to good use—slaying monstrous vermin in the outskirts of town, that sort of thing. With the recent attacks by bandits, Lander was convinced that he could stop them himself and live up to Baron Aldori’s legacy."
He raises an eyebrow as he replies to Dante.
"I suppose you could say I was his mentor. I was just his tutor for sword-fighting, at first. He needed a teacher, and I’m the best around. He would come in to ask me about the Aldori style and watch me make swords—I had to shoo him away to keep him from getting too close to the forge. Over the past couple of months, though, we’ve gotten pretty close. He’s a good kid. A little scatterbrained, maybe, but his heart’s in the right place. I see him sort of like the son I never had.”
He gets a quizzical look on his face.
"You said you're friends of his? How do you know him?"
Marek gets a grave look on his face as he answers Glorne.
"Well, I haven't exactly encouraged it. Although Lander has improved quite a bit in the months I’ve been teaching him, he is still likely no match for any bandits. Though it’s unlikely he’d even find them—he doesn’t have much of a head on his shoulders for the wilderness, and is far more likely lost somewhere. If he’s lucky, he’s lost out in the countryside somewhere, playing the hero. If he’s unlucky, he’s encountered some of the nastier critters that live in the back country. I’m worried for his safety."
He turns to Graxzos. "As far as I know, he's alone."
Marek glares at Dante at the insult, and turns to Glorne, "Yes, you'd all better be going. I don't like your tone. Like I said, I doubt you'll find any bandits, but get out there and save Lander from the monsters."
You get a sense that Marek is concealing something and notice that he consistently attempts to steer the topic away from bandits to the many dangerous creatures rumored to live in the woods and fields nearby.
Marek waves his hands dismissively and stands. "I really need to be getting back to work. Good luck finding Lander." He gestures towards the door.
"Look, friend. I'll give you one more warning to get the nine hells out of my shop before we have a real disagreement. Don't embarrass yourselves by taking my hospitality for granted."
The look on the smith's face is grim, and he looks like he means business.
Based on his appearance and his reputation, Marek would very likely be able to defeat the entire party in a fight if it came to it.
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Wadi stares at the suddenly hostile man, a bit unsure how far the man would go to defend his honor.
I don't believe he knows what honor is yet I don't think he will tell us anything further.
"Very well. We will not take up any more of your valuable time. It was a pleasure to meet you." He then turns to leave the shop.
You set out on the southwestern road out of town in the hope of picking up Lander’s trail. You travel for several days without finding any sign of him. You’ve probably traveled at least 50 miles from Silverhall at this point.
You spot tracks leaving the road, following a deer trail into the woods. The first human tracks you’ve seen so far, they could be Lander’s.
At the point where a deer trail intersects the road, tied to a tree, you find a handkerchief bearing the crest of House Lebeda—a white swan on a blue background with a rising sun in the background.