A Game of Kingmaker

Game Master Wandering Wastrel

Hear, hear! Let's make some beer!

Jhod gives a nod of agreement at Nariel's talk of building a cistern at some point soon: "Aye, tis the unglamourous but practical matters such as those that keeps things going." Karinna looks slightly disappointed at the lack of flair, but rallies swiftly as the advantages become clear. "If people don't have to keep trudging to the river for water, they have more free time to do other things. I should like to see what we can arrange for them in terms of the arts."

With matters (and your accounts!) settled for the next month, the meeting breaks up amicably.

11 KUTHONA 4719

The post arrives this morning, with an official communication from Restov: the Mayor has issued an invitation to the Graf (and those of his company he deems appropriate) to attend the New Year's Ball. Karinna makes a slightly acerbic remark (by her standards) about it being nice to be invited to an event that your own taxes have paid for; it seems clear that she plans to go. Jhod and Yuri are clearly ambivalent: Yuri on account of still being banished from Restov, and Jhod because such gatherings aren't really his scene. "Last year were different, I was as much a nobody as I could be; this year, all I'll get are questions and remarks that I could well do without. I'll stay here and mind things till you return."[b]

Kesten resolves to stay as well. [b]"If we're to be attacked, that would be the ideal time to do it, when you're all somewhere else." He looks away, as if seeing through the walls and imagining a vast, nameless army about to descend upon you all from the depths of the Kameland Hills. It's unclear whether this is out of caution, or actively wishful thinking on his part.

13 KUTHONA 4719

It is shortly after lunch (or breakfast, for Raquel) when Yuri appears, giving the Graf his usual formal salute before making his report: "We had reports of something approaching the town from the other side of the river, so I rode off to investigate." He frowns. "There's about half a dozen black-scaled lizard things setting up camp on the opposite bank of the river. When I got near, they waved their arms and shouted 'Truce! Truce!' It seems to be the only civilised word they know. I'm not sure what to do with them."

Sasha furrows her brow. "Do we know what manner of language they speak? If they come peacefully, we would do well to at least hear what they have to say."

”Sounds like the kobolds we encountered before,” Raquel says with a glower. ”I wonder why they have chosen now to seek a truce. We should speak to them and see what they want.”

When the greater portion of the business for the month is finished, Arianna approaches Karinna. "I beg your pardon, Karinna. There was a matter I hoped I could get your thoughts on. It's not...it's a personal matter, to be honest, and if you're uncomfortable with that, I understand, but I'm just...a little lost. Do you know anything about indenture law?"

--

At the news of the arriving kobolds, Arianna huffs. "This oughta be good. Forgive me if I'm a tad cynical about this, after what we saw before."

Tristan had been out for a walk when Yuri arrived, but he returns only a few minutes after the news was brought. "Well, we knew something would happen with them sooner or later. I suppose them coming to us with cries of 'truce' is better than some other possible beginnings."

Tristan himself had no idea how to speak to a kobold. He knew a couple of esoteric languages, but he doubted he'd be lucky enough for one of them to be useful here.

Going to give it a bit longer to see if Nariel wants to chime in, otherwise I will move things along.

Picking up the letter from the Mayor to review it herself, Nariel looks up and glances up a Karinna and responds "Well, we can only endeavor to use the tax revenue we raise in Thornhold more wisely than extravagant parties," pausing a moment, Nariel grins and adds "that having been said, I fully intend on attending. I have always enjoyed a good ball."

Looking again to the map of the city, Nariel changes the topic "On other business, we should discuss where the brewery should be built. My thoughts is here by, near the Inn. Any thoughts?"

To answer your question Wastrel, I'm thinking adjacent to the Inn, probably space four.

Nodding in agreement with Raquel, Nariel appears concerned "That does sound like the Sootscale. We have to be careful in assuming they represent their tribe; for all we know there is strife among their numbers, and they are seeking shelter from their Chief." Leaning back, Nariel seems to reflect a moment before adding "Only one way to find out I suppose. I can speak with them; I am both fluent in draconic and brokered the present peace such as it is." Glancing at the others, Nariel inquires "So what is our position on the Sootscale? Is it our intent to expel them, or seek a peace if that is what they are offering? We need a coherent policy before entreating them."

Arianna knocks on the table absently. "I think we should also consider the feelings of the people on this. Peace and interspecies unity is all well and good--" She says this a little sarcastically. "--but I don't think many people would be happy to see kobolds walking down the road."

She frowns. "Not that I'm saying we shouldn't hear them out, but, we just need to keep the potential for conflict in mind."

Kesten and Yuri exchange significant looks as the conversation turns towards expulsion and conflict; Kesten sighs heavily before speaking up. "You know I don't expect this venture of ours to succeed. There's no reason for us to do any better than the thousands of others who have tried to conquer the Stolen Lands before. And if I understand your stories aright, there's a reason nobody manages to keep their hold on the land."

He grimaces. "But, if you really want to fail, and I mean really, really want to get everyone in the town killed in a hurry, gather them all up and march them into a kobolds' lair."

Yuri nods in agreement. "I've never encountered them, but I've studied the works of those who have - or at least the ones who survived. We don't have the resources right now to muster the sort of army we'd need to fight a war against kobolds. I don't think we need to have them wandering down the street, but if you can keep things peaceful that would definitely be preferable."

"I, for one, hope to seek peace with the Sootscales. We would fare better with them as allies than enemies," Raquel says. "Do kobolds like beer? We should bring them a keg of my latest batch as a gesture of goodwill."

Aivar has a thousand-and-one things to say on the matter of the Sootscales and how to resolve the 'issue', but he bites his tongue and simply nods in agreement when Raquel talks. Well, he nods at the first two sentences.

"We should approach them and hear them out first. Whatever follows ought to be the result of whatever it is they'll tell us. And please, whatever they might say, do not preemptively drag us into one of their conflicts. Like my da used to say, emotions are like wild horses, don't run along with them. Now, are we all ready?"

And yes, Aivar fears that the kobolds will do just that: describe a situation where they'll be forced to choose between right and wrong, but whatever they'll decide, danger will come knocking for the Mark's people. Or perhaps he's being altogether too gloomy about this. What if they got good news? Cheer up, even the worst people in the world can positively surprise you at times.

Listening to the other advisors, Nariel makes a light nod "I would tend to agree with Kesten; an armed conflict would not be the best option." Looking over at Aivar, Nariel adds "More to that, they have proven to be at least rational thus far. I still have the scale that Chief Sootscale gave me during our last horrible encounter, which might prove useful here when we engage them."

Glancing over to the others, Nariel adds "I will entreat them again, unless anyone has an objection? As has been said, we should hear them out at the least, and assume their peaceful intent at least from the onset." Taking a deep breath, Nariel adds "That said, should we perhaps run some reconnaissance to their territory? It might behoove us to know if they are up to anything."

I feel this might be a good time to employ the old proverb, "trust, but verify." Seems appropriate in this instance.

14 KUTHONA 4719

The temperature has risen slightly: enough that it is snowing, the wind sweeping soft flakes down from the Kameland Hills and blanketing the hard ground of the Rostland Plains. The camp of the kobolds is therefore easy to find: simply follow the smoke that rises from the large fire they have set to ward off the bitter chill.

The two black-scaled sentries posted at the perimeter are stiff with cold, and can barely rise to challenge you as you arrive. Shaking hands point frozen spear-points in your direction as they shout the alarm. Some moments later, an elderly scab-scaled kobold, wrapped in a blanket that has seen better days, walks out from the lone tent to meet you.

His scaly arm waves to indicate the guards, who (judging by their reaction) seem not to have been told in advance of their role as hostages.

Raquel waits for somebody to translate the kobold's words. Then she whispers in return, "Ask him what sort of common cause he's talking about. And we'll need more assurances of our safety than just leaving some kobolds here. The chief has already proven he has no regard for the lives of his subjects."

Wearing a heavier cloak, Nariel bristles quietly at the thought of another cold winter. Setting those thoughts aside, she displays the scale that the chief had given her during their last encounter. Translating Tartuk's words to the others, Nariel listens to Raquel, nodding occasionally. Thinking quietly to herself for a moment, she responds "While I understand your trepidation Raquel, we were given safe passage, indicating some respect for the norms of diplomacy. Kobolds may have a more harsh sense of legal norms than we, but they do have laws and respect order on some level that we can work with."

Taking a deep breath, Nariel glances back towards the cave and adds "Perhaps to limit our risk, I could offer to go in and represent us? I think I earned something approaching the respect from Chief Sootscale on our last outing... or failing that, at least a begrudging acceptance."

Or maybe we could demand somebody more valuable than a few grunts... like Tartuk himself? By the way, obviously all of this discussion would clearly need to be either out of earshot from Tartuk or in a different language.

It quickly becomes clear after further conversation that Tartuk will need to accompany you back to the Sootscale caverns, or you will not be admitted.

Tartuk doesn't say so in as many words, but you also get the impression that following the loss of so many hatchlings, there is more reluctance to throw kobold lives away (his actual words are "Their lives are more important than yours" which ties in with what you know of kobold theories of superiority).

Essentially, you have a choice: you can accept the offer and accompany Tartuk back with a guarantee of safe passage, or you can refuse.

This genuinely isn't a railroad, both choices are valid. But obviously each choice comes with its own consequences

Though she isn't happy about it, Raquel sighs. "Fine. I say we do it. If push comes to shove, we can defend ourselves."

"We won't get another chance at building this bridge, so yes, we ought to take the chance. Hmmm," the paladin sighs as he mentally weighs the situation they're about to walk into. "I can't say that I cherish the prospect of what we'll find ourselves walking into, so I won't hold it against any of you if you want to bow out."

After listening carefully and thinking it all over, Arianna sighs."I'll follow your lead on this, Aivar," she says. "If nothing else, to watch your back."

17 KUTHONA 4719

The Sootscale Caverns are two days' march from Thornhold, with the wind howling bitterly at you the whole way as if urging you to turn back. It's going to be a harsh Winter.

Unseen sentries shout a challenge before the cave-mouth is even in view, but Tartuk calls back and nobody tries to stop you following him. The shaman remembers his manners enough to call forth a dim light that follows his directions, swooping to guide you deeper into the small, winding tunnels. It is cramped: even a dwarf would need to stoop, and most of you are required to bend almost double, which makes it almost impossible to tell where you are going in this maze-like warren of tunnels.

Finally, you arrive at the majestic chamber you visited once before. It is vast, extending well beyond any light source you can summon, a deep inky blackness. Chief Sootscale sits crouch-backed on a large throne, his legs drawn up almost to his ears as he huddles like some malignant spider. His milky, ancient eyes gleam as he sees you.

"So. You came. Good, good. Let us eat together, you and I, and talk. Talk and eat. Sit, sit." He gives a series of sharp commands in his sibilant language, and servants rush forward with platters of food: segments of roast centipede, boiled rot grubs and what appears to be 101 different ways of cooking slime mold. Chief Sootscale laughs at your hesitation. "S-s-s-s-sss. Not poisoned. Perfectly good to eat for you softskins. I didn't bring you all this way to do something foolish. However this turns out, you have safe passage back. So eat, talk."

Taller than most, Aivar can't help but feel joy once they exit the cramped tunnel system and enter the throne room. The joy is short-lived when the chief puts on display his culinary welcome. By Rovagug's balls, surely the kobolds do not think this passes for food?!

Sadly, they do, and Aivar is forced to indulge. While he didn't grow up with opulence and excess, this experience is so far down the line towards the other extreme that the Orlovsky has a hard time finding peace with what he's about to do: to take off his mithral gauntlet and dip his fingers into cooked slime mold. "You have our gratitude for having us as your guests, Chief Sootscale. To dine and share bread is one of the pillars of civilizations, after all."

"Aye, a true pleasure, it is," Raquel agrees, trying to hide her grimace. "May Cayden bless this bounty we are about to receive!"

The cleric prays over the food.

Casting purify food and drink repeatedly to be sure it is safe to eat.

As the entered the cave, Nariel's eyes moved about cautiously in an attempt to take in every detail possible; Nariel knew her companions would struggle to see anything in this darkness, even if by torch light.

Sitting in beside Aivar, Nariel made sure to translate from draconic for her companions, doing her best to make translations that impart the intent where literal translations did not exactly make sense. When the food was delivered, Nariel made no reaction and simply nodded appreciatively "Many thanks for your hospitality Chief Sootscale. We are honored to share at your bountiful table." After Raquel blessed and purified the food (for which the Nariel's delicate constitution was very grateful), Nariel gingerly picked at those foods that would turn her stomach the least, but again showed no sign of her stomach churning at such sustenance. In the end, that was just another test; Kobold's were intelligent enough to know that human diets did not include such "delicacies."

After a time, Nariel decided to brooch the elephant in the room in diplomatic form. Translating first to the others what she intended to say, Nariel then spoke to the Chief in his native tongue "Chief Sootscale, allow me to thank-you for the opportunity to entreat with you in peaceful goodwill this day. How can we be of service to the Sootscale?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (13) + 8 = 21

Might as well get the ball rolling here.

17 KUTHONA 4719

Although not necessarily what you would have chosen to eat, the various dishes you are presented with taste something like chicken (at least, with only a little effort on your part). After dinner, Chief Sootscale pushes back his goblet and sighs. "Ss-ss-ss. You softskins are not here for service. Most softskins who found themselves here would be dinner." He seems to find the idea amusing. "But you did us a favour and the Sootscales are in your debt. I have summoned you here to discuss a new threat. Or possibly a new opportunity. Tartuk and I are not yet decided on this. But we both agreed that it is something you should know about."

He gazes at the shaman. "Tartuk! Begin the ritual."

The shaman nods, and your skin prickles as you feel the vast buildup of a spell, before it is released.

When the spell completes, there is a momentarily blinding flash as a patch of white appears at the far end of the chamber.

After a few seconds, you realise what it is: snow, or at least the illusion thereof (if you concentrate really hard, you can still see the floor of the cave beneath it). The circle of snow is perhaps twenty feet across. Eight figures come into view standing upon it.

Seven of them are almost identical: burly-looking misshapen dwarf-like figures with wickedly cruel smiles lurking beneath dirty yellow-grey beards. They each wear a hat the colour of dried blood - exactly the colour of dried blood.

The eighth figure stands off to one side. Where the other seven are dwarflike, misshapen, this one stands tall and proud. His armour is made of ice, and the glaive that he carries looks like the deadliest icicle ever formed. Frost condenses from the air on his helm, which is adorned with stag horns.

You see immediately what the Stag Lord must have been trying to make himself look like; trying, and not remotely coming close to the impression this dark creature makes.

One of the seven dwarflike figures, whom you now notice to be considerably neater than his fellows (his beard a snowy white, and his skin an icy blue rather than the grubby paleness of the others) steps forward and gives you all an elaborately polite bow, without taking his eyes off you.

"Och, it's good to set eyes on ye all - I've heard a wee bit aboot you noo, but there's nae substitute fer face ta face, ye ken? Weeell, as face ta face as we can manage right noo, but I'll be gettin' back tae that point. Anyhoo, allow me tae intraduce ourselves: I'm Mr. Cropgizzard and these here are my Brothers Grimm. Dinnae fash yerselves with learning their names, ye wouldnae be able to tell one from another anyway. This here-" he indicates the hulking, armoured figure "-is oour associate Mr Hargulkar. He dinnae talk much."

He claps his pale hands together, long fingers running over one another eagerly. "A'reet, that's the who oot the way, as for the where, weelll, we're a mite closer than ye'd like tae believe. Travelled here by unicorn, you might say terherherherherherherher." He gives an absolutely filthy laugh. "Noo, as to the what, let us get aboot oour business. Yeh've been quite the inconvenience to Queenie noo, and I've been asked tae resolve the matter."

He rolls a long 'r' on resolve, but the dramatic pause he leaves at the end of his sentence is slightly spoiled by his brethren, who start chanting. "Nae King! Nae Queen! Nae Laird! Nae King! Nae Queen! Nae Laird!"

Mr. Cropgizzard sighs, and holds one hand up (almost) peaceably towards you. "Ach, crivens. Bear with me one wee moment, will ye?"

Turning towards the others, his entire appearance changes as his face turns red with fury, veins popping in his neck as he shrieks at them: "Fer the love of all that's guid and maimed and dead, will you bunch of pus-filled bawbags get it into yer thick, clunty heads that we WAIRRRRK fer Queenie noo!"

He fairly rapidly cows them into silence, and turns back towards you with a slightly forced smile. "Apologies ye had tae see that, lads and lassies. They're a guid bunch, my brothers, but they're not blest with overmuch in their heids, ye ken? Anyway, where was I? Och, aye. Seems Queenie's not over-fond of ye puttin' the cursit iron into her soil, if ye get ma drift, but she's not withoot some ammiration fer what ye've achieved here. I'm set to tell ye that if yez all leave this land by the turn of the year, she'll no hold much of a grudge against ye. Noo, persn'ally, I have tae say that I'm hoping ye'll refuse her guid and gracious offer, as it's a long while since my brothers and I were on the Hunt. I was hopin tae interest oor scaly friends here in joining us, ye cannae beat a kobold fer ingenious traps noo, but their bossman here was saying something aboot a debt - I have tae confess I wisnae listening much at the time, I was in the middle of eating a squirrel and it was putting up a helluva fight, ye wouldnae credit the little bugger."

"But anyhoo. There's nae third side here, so I'm here tae offer the terms. Oor scaly friends here can join Queenie, or they can quit this place along wit yez. Or else... me and mine will be seeing you and yours. And when we see yez, we'll have oor fun wit yez, carve yez up fer dinner and soak oor caps wit yer blood."

The image starts to flash and flicker, before fading - clearly the magic, although powerful, is of limited duration. Just before it vanishes completely, you catch Mr. Cropgizzard's final threat:

"And if yer verra, verra guid, and dinnae get on ma tatties tae much, we'll do it in that order."

Once the image has played out, Raquel looks at her companions dubiously. "Leave the Stolen Lands within a year? Yeah, no, that's not going to happen."

Spellcraft: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (2) + 12 = 14

Observing Tartuk perform his magical rites, Nariel tilted her head slightly and raised an eyebrow at the display. Intrigued, Nariel could not place what type of magic this was exactly, though made sure to make mental notes that she would record later.

As the images of the foul looking dwarves became clear, Nariel scowled lightly, yet she made sure to listen to what they had to say. Unfortunately, what they had to say horrified her. Upon hearing that the ritual slaying of the unicorn was responsible for bringing the dwarves into their realm, Nariel’s normally calm and flat affect was broken into one of horror and anguish, though she remained silent until the horrid vision disappeared.

When the image finally dissipated, Nariel covered her hands of her mouth as if to stifle a scream. Noticeably distraught, Nariel whispered in a pained voice, but spoke in elven as she often did when upset "Those monsters are responsible for the murder Brightmane…"

Is there a roll Nariel can make to identify these things, like Nature or Arcana? I’m pretty sure I know what they are, but I don’t want to metagame.

Knowledge (nature) is your friend here

An emotion altogether alien courses through Aivar's system and no matter how he tries, he can't get that rotten taste out of his mouth. When others speak of hate, this is what they must be talking about. Snarling, he turns around to face his companions and exhales through his nose, disliking the fact they get to see him like this. Angry and eager to fight, a proper Brevan through and through.

"Kobold, human, elf, dwarf, it matters not for the black-hearted fey, because our lives have no value nor meaning to them. Have you or your tribe encountered these mad fey before, Chief Sootscale? "

Chief Sootscale flickers his tongue in and out as he gives a reptilian laugh at Aivar's response. "Softskins talk of life having value, meaning. Dragon-bloods know true worth of life."

He considers Aivar's question, clearly wondering how much to reveal. "These things came to me before, offered alliance. Said that one of the greatest of our kind, the mighty Ilthuliak, has sided with their leader."

He gives a shrug. "This might persuade us, if she hadn't sent her spies to destroy our brood. You rescued them. It creates a debt. So it seems we have common enemy, yes? Sootscales will hear your offer."

Consider this an Influence Check, where everyone gets to pitch in. You don't have to use Diplomacy, you can use another skill as long as you roleplay it accordingly (so, e.g., Swim is probably a no-go)

”I, for one, offer copious amounts of alcohol!” Raquel declares, tapping the keg she has brought with her and distributing mugs of ale to the kobolds.

Profession (brewer): 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (17) + 12 = 29

"The alliance they offer will come at the price of blood. They will demand you sacrifice your people to fight an enemy, that isn't your enemy. And who will they sacrifice first to win this fight? Their own? Or yours? They care nothing for your eggs, all they want is to destroy. No glory, no plunder or wealth, just death and destruction. To spill blood. We want peace and to see our children grow old."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (2) + 16 = 18
A truly conniving character might use this opportunity to antagonize them and force a proper casus-belli so the kobolds could be removed. Oh, right, I'm playing a paladin!

spellcraft: 1d20 + 7 + 1d6 ⇒ (18) + 7 + (1) = 26
know nature: 1d20 + 9 + 1d6 ⇒ (11) + 9 + (6) = 26
know arcana re:Ilthuliak?: 1d20 + 7 + 1d6 ⇒ (4) + 7 + (6) = 17

Arianna listens, and her frown deepens with every word. "Redcaps," she says quietly, recalling childhood stories and more recent research, none of which does justice to the reality. "And more horrors, besides. I don't think any would be inclined to care much about kobolds or Brevans beyond their immediate interests. That said, I don't expect immediate trust between our kinds from the outset. Until the fey threat can be mitigated, we can coordinate our activities against them. Thereafter, perhaps we can arrange a, a neutral zone that separates our territories, such that we may each have some security. There's a lot of room out here, certainly. I don't expect any great love between our people, but there's no reason we can't collaborate."

know local: 1d20 + 10 + 1d6 ⇒ (10) + 10 + (2) = 22

A truly conniving character might use this opportunity to antagonize them and force a proper casus-belli so the kobolds could be removed. Oh, right, I'm playing a paladin!

Is this something we want? 'Cause I'm your huckleberry.

Sasha observes the negotiations between mouthfuls of centipede. It might look disgusting, but it was hardly the worst thing Sasha had eaten. Besides, when in doubt, do as the natives do. Lessons like that helped Sasha move through life, with the results being mostly harmless. In the meantime, she wracked her memory for mentions of Ilthuliak.

Knowledge (history): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (17) + 10 = 27

The kobold chief listens to your words, in silence that lingers for some time after you have finished speaking.

Eventually, he speaks.

"This is our home. We will not leave here, for anyone. Any who strike at us will die... eventually. There is no value in an alliance, our way of fighting is not for softskins. But there is the matter of a debt, and a debt must be repaid."

"This was once a silver mine. Dwarves worked it, curse their soft hairy faces. The silver is almost gone, but there are other metals: iron ore, copper, tin. Metals to wage war, to make traps. We will give to you."

"Now our business is complete. You may go safely. Do not return."

It would seem you have an agreement, of sorts...

Chief Sootscale's gift counts as 1d12 ⇒ 11 BP for your province. I will update your treasury accordingly

Hearing Arianna mutter the name for the malevolent fey, Nariel nods to concur "Aye, Redcaps. Vicious and cruel to the bone." Still upset at the knowledge of Brightmane's demise, Nariel remains somewhat passive during the rest of the negotiations.

Once Chief Sootscale announces his debt repaid in the form of iron and other precious ore, Nariel nods lightly, realizing that this was probably as good an outcome as they could expect at the moment. "We thank-you for your generosity Chief Sootscale, it is most welcome."

Glancing over at Aivar, Nariel shot a look that suggested this negotiation was at an end... best to not look the gift horse in the mouth and get going.

So much for an alliance, but on the plus side, the extra 11 BP is most welcome!

"Yes, thank you, thank you, Cayden's blessings upon you," Raquel says as she quickly stands and ushers her friends out of the caves.

Sasha holds her tongue until the party is out of earshot from the kobolds. When she is reasonably confident that she won't be overheard, she shares what she's heard about the name the chief mentioned.

"If the chief was telling the truth, we might be in more trouble than we realized. Ithuliak is the name of an ancient and powerful black dragon, but she hasn't been spotted in centuries. It's possible she's dead and that the fey just wanted something to cow the kobolds, but if she's not..." The rogue lets the implication hang.

Aivar tries to stand tall, but the weight of today's revelations weighs heavy on his shoulders.

"If that's true and this Ithuliak is said black dragon, these are dire tidings indeed. What's worse, I don't know if the kobolds will be able to resist its influence. It is within the realm of imagination that Ithuliak must be like a divine being to the Sootscales. Ah, and again, the Fey are doing what they can to turn our friends and these lands against us. I'm not sure what to think of that."

Raquel reaches out and gives Aivar's shoulder a squeeze. "Don't worry, big guy. We'll figure out a way through all of this. Both Shelyn and Cayden are on our side!"

23 KUTHONA 4719

With the Sootscales' gift in tow, your journey back is slower than your journey there. Once word of your safe arrival home is confirmed, the kobolds who have been staying as "guests" take their leave, with evident relief.

Karinna, Jhod and the rest of the Council are waiting for you in the main room of the mansion, with a roaring fire and hot food to comfort you after the chill.

Once you have had a chance to revive yourselves from the cold, they listen solemnly to your story, and at least appear willing to believe it (with the exception of Eva, who looks deeply skeptical but holds her tongue - for now).

Kesten almost appears cheerful as he leans back in his seat and cracks his knuckles. "Well now, an enemy that uses that sort of magic to travel around and communicate, that sort of enemy lets a chap know he's on the right side! Of course, that doesn't mean he's on the winning side. How do you plan to proceed?"

*bump*

”As always, we proceed bravely and boldly,” Raquel asserts, letting the others make more specific plans.

Arriving at the mansion, Nariel makes her way to fire and warms herself up for a time. Lacking any sort of appetite, Nariel forwent any of the food, but opted rather for a warm cup of tea. Standing near the fire, Nariel appears lost in thought as she cradled her mug in both hands, but she manage to nod agreeably with Raquel's response to Kesten.

After a time, she finally speaks up "I really need to do some solid research on our fey adversaries. Ever since we stepped foot into the Stolen Lands, I cannot help but feel we have been [to use a common human expression], a day late and a dollar short when dealing with them." The use of such colloquialisms seemed strange coming from Nariel, but it did nevertheless help make her point.

Arianna is unperturbed by the cold as an extract flushes her with comfortable warmth. Still she has a hot tea to keep her mind sharp. "Bold, hm? Don't know if this would be considered bold or not, but we should at least consider whether to take preemptive action against the Kobolds."

Kesten claps his hands together, in a parody of gloomy delight. "Splendid! A military action against two foes at once, the classic unwinnable war on two fronts. Well, if that doesn't keep me from being preoccupied with my own thoughts, then I don't know what will. My family has always said that I'm too given to introspection, and this sounds like a wonderful cure."

He pauses for a moment. "Of course, I must ask, out of interest: us and whose army? And, as your General, I should point out that I mean that question in the most literal sense."

Arianna's words visibly wound Aivar. The audacity of the suggestion leaves a sour taste in his mouth as he wets his lips and weighs what to say. "The fact we are different does not give us the right to murder and maim the kobolds. There are many Gods and all mortals reflect parts and aspects of the Divine, but what sets us apart is that we get to decide who we are - and we are not barbarous butchers. Think about it: the kobolds reached out to us to warn us. It is clear that the chieftain is unsure about his tribe's future, and unlike the fey menace, we so far have been true to our word. As long as we stay strong and benefit them through trade and interaction, a kobold betrayal should be avoidable. In the end, they aren't much different from us, as they too will do what they need to survive." Exactly what the kobolds are willing to do remains unsaid.

After the downpour of words, he wearily raises a hand as if to apologize for the outburst. "The chieftain graciously bestowed upon us great wealth. The money can be invested into roads and mines to ensure our word to Restov remains true. If there is any left, part of it can be put aside as an emergency fund. If there is even more left after that, what gold remains can be used to seek out and purchase information regarding fey and how to deal with them. We can train soldiers and arm them, but what use are ordinary sword, spear and bow against a foe that is not human?"

Lifting her head up from her tea, Nariel looks over at Kesten with a knowing look "I think that I have to concur with Kesten, such provocations would be unwise." Glancing back towards Aivar with nod, she continues "Unfortunately, our meeting with Chief Sootscale made clear that any sort of alliance is off the table, at least for the time being. As far as the Sootscale are concerned Lord Kurisyl, I would council that we hope for the best, and prepare for the worst."

Suitably warm now after standing near the fire, Nariel returns to the table and ponders the next steps "To that end, it might be time to discuss raising some sort of military force; not a standing army, but perhaps a militia or defensive force of some kind? We are vulnerable here, and really should act accordingly. While we can make the necessary peaceful overtures to the Sootscale by trying to engage them in trade or what have you, we cannot discount the possibility of future hostilities, especially if the unseelie fey have allied with a mythic dragon like Ithuliak." With a sigh, Nariel concluded "In either event, we should be prepared to meet the Sootscale numbers with force if necessary."

I used the term unseelie, but I can't remember if it's come up in the game or not. It's a blanket term for the dark fey, with the Seelie Fey and the Unseelie Fey, who are opposing factions in the faerie isles, or what Golarion calls the 1st World. I hope that terminology works here Wastrel, but let me know if not.

Also, I mention raising a militia; are we using the Kingdom Rules for large scale combat? If not, raising an army or militia could be more of flavor thing, or we could build barracks or garrisons to reflect that, or fort terrain upgrades. All of these would accomplish such an investment I would think from a narrative point of view.

On the topic of a militia: historically speaking (and let's be honest, fantasy tends to be a reflection of a re-imagined past) a medieval lord would maintain a house guard and an armory, but raising an army (read: anything over 500 troops) meant calling on vassals and their levies.

Since we don't have any vassals, and the town is technically Aivar's domain, we'd be lucky to raise some odd fifty people who can hold up a pointy stick. From a RP perspective it makes sense to invest in an armory, since that's where it all begins, and set aside funds so that Kesten and Yuri can start training would-be sergeants-at-arms. If we want more than that, we probably need to start sending out agents to contact mercenary bands so that we can hire them in a pinch.

That's my two cents on the topic :)