DM Barcas - Kingmaker: Interregnum (Inactive)

Game Master Isaac Duplechain

Alexius barely makes a comment to Zander for as he and Taisper come and go. For five days, Zander keeps the closest eye he can on them but is usually alone in the inn. Taisper never comes back covered in blood, so he assumes that all is well in the city. He listens in the tavern as intently as he can, though he lacks Taisper's skill at drawing out information from others through a smile and purchased alcohol. Alexius seems aloof from the entire information-gathering process, simply sitting in a corner and watching, while refusing to say more than few words to anyone who approaches. Either way, Zander does not hear much beyond the gossip of the city. He hears nothing about the Lord Mayor's safety or anything regarding Vinodragov beyond his failure to resurrect Jemini.

While dueling is not as popular here as it is in Mivon, it still has quite a hold on the imagination of the common people. He actually witnesses a duel between two fine swordsmen on the street one day, an Aldori swordlord that another watcher identifies as Kathreyne Aldori (as all the true swordlords give up their surnames) and a young man intent on earning a name for himself. After agreeing upon a duel to first blood, the female duelist gives an extraordinary performance in grace and agility, deftly dodging each thrust and swing of her opponent without so much as drawing her own dueling sword. The duel ends when she sidesteps a thrust, knocks him off balance with one hand while disarming him with the other, and uses his own sword to draw a single drop of blood from his neck. The assembled crowd gives quite the applause while the young man slinks off, defeated.

On the fifth day, Taisper proposes returning to Sanctuary. Alexius seems to agree, and the Lord Mayor appears to be alive, so they return without further incident. They do not wait for a merchant or guardians, instead acting as the escort for dozens more settlers waiting at Oleg's. It seems that word is spreading about Newhaven, and more and more come from the north to settle. Most are Brevic peasants, looking for a better life, but some are from as far as Ustalav. The stories of their kingdom are beginning to spread across the entirety of the Inner Sea, a fact that they share with the others upon their return.

Okay, we are going to jump ahead a few months from this point! Off to the OOC for everyone! (Except Jemini, on her own little schedule.)

Charon quietly laughs at her question, a chilling sound that reminds Jemini and Nikolai that their ferryman is an ancient, unknowable being. "You know nothing of this world. It is not as if there is some heirarchy upon which I fit. In some ways, I have more power than Pharasma herself. In others, the least of the souls here have more than I. The River is my domain, but Hell is theirs. We are bound by rules and customs older than your world and its limited understanding of time." He leaves her question unanswered, and returns to eerie silence. The boat cuts through the black water, leaving no ripple in its wake, as the shores of Avernus pass by.

Nikolai stares into the blackness of the water. Moments go by, or perhaps years, and he speaks. "What if there is no redemption for me? What if I return and work to undo the damage I have caused, but the weight of my actions draw me right back to this place? Wouldn't I be better off throwing myself into the water? Better to forget myself than to endure what might await me."

1 Abadius 4709

It is a new year. Snow falls upon the newly-finished castle of Sanctuary, covering the lands in all direction with pure whiteness. It has been a steady snowfall, light for most of the winter. Growing up in Brevoy, where snow falls steadily from Neth to Calistril, it is a comparatively mild winter. Zander's deputy Wardens have been on the lookout for the winter fey that they saw the previous year, but the winter seems to be set to continue mildly this year. Mild, however, is a relative term. To a citizen of most of the world's nations to the south, this winter is harsh and unrelenting. Snow and ice form a perpetual carpet across the land, while the streams and rivers are frozen. To a man of Brevoy, any winter that one can walk out of his house wearing just three layers and a fur cloak is a mild winter.

In Absolom, the center of the Inner Sea region, the people are celebrating the founding of the city by the god Aroden. Here, thousands of leagues from the greatest city of the world, the people still celebrate. They thank Erastil and Abadar, Shelyn and Iomedae, for seeing them through another year. Most give special thanks to Abadar for the creation of Newhaven. In less than a year's time, the nascent nation has swollen to 3,000 citizens from nothing. The food stores of the city are plentiful, with enough to go around for them to ensure that no one goes hungry. In New Stetven and New Orlovs and the other great cities of Newhaven, the poor in the street find it difficult to eat and survive winter, but the generosity of Sanctuary lives up to its name. The word in the taverns of the city is that a crush of settlers will flood into the city when the winter ends to enjoy the generous food stores during the next winter. There is even a persistent rumor that there are groups of settlers trying to brave the elements and make the still-untamed journey from Oleg's to Sanctuary. One telling of the story says that a group of trolls is laying in wait on the road between the two settlements, falling upon the hapless travelers and feasting upon them, but the Wardens and traders have not seen any such thing.

Deep inside the stone castle built over the Stag Lord's fort, Berrin Myrdal stirs against the warm body of his Varisian temptress. It is dawn, and a day he has been dreading. If possible, he would throw himself back into Esmerelda's arms and enjoy her charms, but he has the duties thrust upon him by the others. It is time to sit in judgment upon the bandits that were caught in the middle of the month. At Tandlara's suggestion, they had declared this day the date that they would sit in judgment as a council, so as to not sully the solstice holiday festivities with potential bloodshed.

The four bandits have been held in the castle as captives since they were caught. Of them, one is clearly a bad apple, unrepentant and argumentative. Ghamont Jannsen, apparently a survivor of the Stagfall (in the Stag Lord's bandit army) argues that the citizens who could not defend themselves were asking to be robbed. The others, though, are just children and teenagers caught in his sway. Orphans looking to Sanctuary for a better place, they fell into his hands as he created a gang that preyed upon the citizens of Sanctuary. He sought to replace the fallen Stag Lord, stylizing himself the Red Stag and wearing a bright red cloak with a horned metal helm. Still, in his service, they robbed and killed three people before Taisper was able to track them down to a small warehouse on the edge of the town. Even as a relatively new city, it is beginning to get to the point that they do not know everyone or where everything is. A dozen of the bandit gang were killed in the clash, with the four remaining taken prisoner. The Red Stag had fallen to a vicious blow to the head by Corwin. The metal horned helm had saved his life, but one of the horns was sheared off.

Dawn rises over the castle, with the rays of the sun lighting up the modest windows of the chapel. Verik had wanted to build a cathedral, or at least a temple, to Abadar, but the practicality of a stronghold pushed that aside for the time being. Upon spring's arrival, though, he has great plans to build a shine to the god of cities, though he notes with some pride that Sanctuary itself is itself an ode to the Lawgiver. With its straight, lined streets and logical divisions, the city's master plan could be drawn straight from Abadar's Manual of City Building, if the holy text had an example city.

Verik sits at the Banker's Desk that stands at the head of the chapel, where an altar would stand in a shrine to Erastil or Iomedae. He has a blank piece of paper in front of him, with a quill tapping against it and a full vial of ink as he considers what to write. The coming hours will be difficult for him, as much as they were the first time he was cast in the role of judge. It was that experience that vaulted him into the master of the court for the trial of the Red Stag and his gang. He taps the quill against the paper, thinking of what to write to Abadar, and what to do about the upcoming trial.

Taisper stands in a dark corner of the chapel, staring at his cousin. His hand unconsciously runs across where his Key once hung, but he simply watches. While he is not an official member of the Council, his opinion matters here. His Judgement matters.

His Judgement mattered in the fall, when he had traveled to Restov to Judge the Lord Mayor and the Archbanker. Two corrupt men. Two men who had received a Warning. How he wished to be there, but it was not his Time yet. He had confronted Vinodragov, all but made his intentions known, intentions that were surely confirmed when the Archbanker's acolyte had opened the box. The young man's face had been burned and scarred, Tandlara's whisperers from New Stetven had said. Madness had seized him, though it passed soon after. A pity that the boy suffered, but it was a Price that must be paid. It seems to him that the message was received. No more visits from the Archbanker or his sycophants, and none of the promised Inquisition for either him or for Verik.

He knows that Verik was worried, for all his bluster at the Stagfall. His cousin had not confided as much in him, but Taisper Knows things. He knows that Verik had confided his worries about Vinodragov with Jhod, of all people. He watches his kin as Verik taps a quill against paper incessantly, staring into the distance and lost in thought.

Zander is early to rise, as he always is. The city was getting to him, so he had donned his helm and left two days before. It was not a long ranging, simply a few leagues outside the city's walls. The snow was heavy and high, but he had dealt with worse before; besides, it was the same weather that his deputies had to deal with, and he wouldn't have them doing anything that he wouldn't. The fields and farms that surround the city were quiet, simply the families enjoying the last week of the winter solstice and the new year with each other. Outside one farmhouse, he looked on longingly through a window as a man lovingly played with his young son, tossing him into the air and catching him. The man's wife was in the kitchen of their small house, cooking something with a small fire and laughing at them. They did not see him, but he watched for some time.

The rumors about the trolls were getting worse, which is part of the reason for this ranging. There was a tale sweeping the taverns that claimed that an entire group of refugees from the chaos of Galt to the south had tried to cross the untamed wilderness, only to find a tribe of trolls that dragged them into caves and tore them into shreds. Gregar had gone south into the wilderness to try to find if there was any truth to the story, but he had not heard from the sellsword since he left over a month and a half ago.

As Zander strides through the city gates, the guards salute to him. His Stag Helm is known to the citizens, especially the children. Many of the children of the city had taken upon themselves to craft crude replicas of his helm, chasing each other through the streets with wooden sticks. The streets are quiet in the white dawn, though, and he sees no one as he walks into the castle that had once been the Stag Lord's fort. He takes his fur cloak off, shaking the snow and ice off it, and heads off to find the others.

Disentangling himself from Emma as gently as he can, so as not to wake her, Berrin sits up with a sigh. Putting his feet on the cold stone floor he sits a bit and wriggles his toes, tossing off the warm furs that make up his blankets he allows the cold, crisp morning air to caress him awake. Standing up he stretches with a groan and, shuddering, makes his way to the window. Draping a cloak over his shoulders as he looks out at the growing city.

Being steward had it's advantages, Berrin admits to himself as he enjoyed the view, his quarters were spacious and he lacked no comfort, but he found that the view over the city was his favored advantage. He could see out over the lake where shacks and storehouses had risen and fishing boats lined the shore, 'The lake is mostly untapped,' he thinks to himself. 'Plenty of food under the waves.' He could see down to the makeshift city-gates, where the road wound north toward Olegs', the road most travelers came down, and he had a good view over the rising city beneath the castle. 'Thank the gods we built the damned thing.' he muses as he views the ramshackle hovels midst the few proper houses that had risen. Building the castle had been the best thing to do before winter, they could house so much in it, the food stores, the market, their few soldiers and city guards, and last but not least they could offer shelter to the populace who were worst off. Eyeing the growing city Berrin felt a swelling pride at what they had achieved so far.

Eyeing the city Berrin's mind wandered to the threats they faced, the people who would take this away from them all. His face darkens and an anger wells up inside him as he think on the task to come. 'The Red Stag! What a mockery! Another would be bandit lord, carving a piece of his own kingdom. Bahh! He'll get what's his.' Shoving himself away from the window he strides to his wardrobe and starts dressing with a purpose.

He might be steward, but he was still Brevic, and his wardrobe reflected that. His clothes might be fine but they were all sturdy and sensible. Thick wool breeches and shirt, fur-lined leather vest with metal studs, warm boots and a heavy fur cloak where what he selected. The hall would be heated, he knew, but winter still held sway so it would be cold non-the-less. Donning a broad jeweled belt, his ring of office and gold and silver bracers he also dons the amulet Verik crafted for him. Eyeing it he could see Tandlaras handywork, a leather thong with an engraved bears tooth, fastened with with a gold and silver setting. It was too crude by far to have been Verik's design, Berrin loved it. The circlet on the other hand had Verik's handiwork written all over it. A band of woven silver and gold thread with moonstones and small rubies woven into it, Berrin just knew Verik had been thinking of Jemini when he made it. 'A token of rulership.' Verik had called it, 'All rulers need a token.' he had argued. Though Berrin had accepted the thing he knew better. Going over to the foot of his bed he fetched the true token of rulership, the Stag Lord's greatsword. 'Now here's a token for ya.' he thought grimly as he hefted the weapon. Solid steel with a leather bound hard-wood haft clad in a worn, fur sheath, this was a symbol of power, a trophy taken of a vanquished foe. Handling the weapon brings Berrins mind to images of Jemini, her flowing hair, her easy smile and sparkling eyes, her full figure encased in supple chain, her clumsy gait, her casual, friendly manner and the fury it hid and the sight of her life's blood spraying as the Stag Lord brought her low. 'She'll be back. I know she will.' Slinging the sword on his back he steels himself and heads out the door.

Making his way to the Hall Berrin is greeted and curtsied to by the folk he passes, 'Servants. Never thought I'd have those.' he reflects as he greets them in turn. From a humble background, a soldier by trade, an enforcer, bouncer and an adventurer. A fugitive murderer some would say. Steward of a realm. Funny how life could pull tricks on you. 'How easily I could loose all this.' he thinks, fully realizing how fragile this all was. He would protect it, he must, this was his doing in part, made by his hand and his to protect. He would show no mercy to the unrepentant he decided, he would make the hard choice to protect those who had come to depend on him and the council.

Arriving at the Hall Berrin climbs the dais to the throne, a simple thing of solid oak, a gift from a tradesman to the realm, a woodcarver looking to set up shop in Newhaven, yet another soul looking to start anew in a place of promised safety, another reminder to Berrin of the people he would protect.

Seating himself he pulls the greatsword and places it over his knees, ready to sit in judgement.

slight edit on this to get it in line with DMB's post details

Verik stands at the Banker's Desk of Abadar dressed in his formal white and yellow-trimmed vestments, the Order of Numbers set in its proper place next to the Merchant’s Scales, with a quill, ink and parchment more haphazardly set aside on the edge of the Desk. Behind him on the wall hangs a locally made tapestry of the Golden Key of the First Vault, a gift of no small effort from one of the dedicated parishioners. He stands in the makeshift chapel, a building that also serves as a schoolhouse for Jhod on days aside from Oathdays and Sundays, though neither of those days happens to be today. Later this afternoon the chapel will be occupied by several townsfolk receiving instruction by Jhod on the healing arts, including Verik himself. For now though the place only holds one other member, the only other man in Sanctuary that can truly call himself a Chosen of Abadar – Taisper stands by himself in the corner near a makeshift pew, nodding and waiting for Verik to speak.

Shortly after their morning prayers and exercises to Abadar, Verik had to write his Statement of Proceedings for this morning's grim event as Judge of the Accused. Nothing was coming forth, however, so he decided to briefly take up another difficult but more appealing task in the hope it would clear his mind and give him the demonstration of progress he needed this day.

Verik opens his mouth to utter the words he has practiced for the past few days with Taisper, his face composed and looking as if he is speaking to an entire audience. After a moment, however, no words come out even though his mouth is agape. He looks down and holds up a hand in a pausing motion as he struggles to recall the learned passage. Finally, after several long moments Verik looks back up and with forced confidence he loudly utters the following words in Celestial:

“Qnailel U yrel Salyeln ub yrel Binly Jaohy bun yrel celf Sucyr wnacyelt ic ril Casel. Qnailel yu Apatan bun yrel puocyz pellyufelt oquc zuon lhelelqz Lelnjacyl, bun yrel untelnhz funxl satel ic zuon casel yu tacvel Qnuwnelll yu yril hact ub Ruqel. Qnailel Apatan ic woitacvel ub yrel lrelelq act hujelnl ub yrel lrelelq yu poiht ac Untelnelt act Moly luvielyz ic zuon Sinnun ub yrel Bilrell. Qnailel yu Apatan act nelmuivel, U Bilrell ub Qnuwnelll!”

Verik looks to Taisper with a look of uncertain but hopeful pride. ”That was much better that time cousin, yes? I believe I really got it down that time. That was close this time was it not?”

Zander smiles at the children's antics. So carefree...he can barely remember such days...a further reminder of what he has to protect here.

Zander makes his way to the castle and then the newly constructed Wardens Office by the stables. A spartan structure, consisting of his office, a common room, and a bunkroom for his men. The thick split-timber walls keep in the heat from the assorted braziers. His window allows him to watch the coming and going through the castle gate. He finishes his post from his ranging to the official log book; the route taken, the weather, the condition of the farms, zero hostiles...and no sign of Gregar...or any trolls.

He closes the book and makes his way to the keep. The headband not disguising the grim look on his face. His bow he leaves in his office, but he carries his helm, feeling it important to show the bandit stags of this land have been thrown down...and soon their memory will be the ghost of the White Stag, the protector of this land.

He enters the hall. Seeing the convicted, witnesses and lookers-on. Berrin sits looking over the hall. He looks unhappy, and that has an unnerving on the youndger convicts, little did they know he alwasy looked like that at a state function. But the other, the Red Stag, he shows nothing but disgust. His gaze is hard as he stares murderously at one who help bring him here.

Zander nods his greeting to Berrin and takes his place at the farthest righthand seat. His helm he sets staring accusingly at the Red Stag, Try to out stare that!"

Taisper chuckles warmly. "That's...that's...heh. It's pretty good. I'm not sure what The Book says about special dispensations for sheep and fishes, exactly, though, so you might want to review your rules on nominative case." He smiles at his cousin. It feels extremely strange to be teaching Verik...well, anything that didn't involve weapons or fighting. Taisper had helped him those couple times with fighting technique back when they were kids, of course, but this was odd. Though not dumb, by any stretch, the younger cousin had never considered himself an academic so to be teaching a book-learning type of subject to someone like his cousin -- grew up around lawyers and the like -- was going to take some getting used to.

"Anyway, cousin, it's time. I'm sure the essential personnel must be in the courtroom by now. Time to Judge the guilty. Time to do our duty, our part of things here."

It was nice to be able to talk to Verik again. Ever since Jemini had been slain it seemed like Verik was less jumpy, easier to get along with. Just another part of Her glorious plan, probably; sacrificing herself for the good of all, the cousins included. Helping repair the rift in their relationship that Verik's love (lust?) for her had caused. Ah, she was a saint.

She is never coming back. Why would she? She is always with us. Glory to Her and Her plan. And her Sacrifice.

The four prisoners rattle as they enter the throne room, their hands and feet bound in chains. The guards watch impassively as they enter, standing all in a row in front of the assembled Council. To the prisoners, their judges must seem a frightening sight, though every citizen of Sanctuary knows their names. The Steward of the Realm, Berrin Myrdal, sits in the middle on an tall oaken throne, raised above the others. A simple crown of dark iron sits upon his head, while the greatsword he took from the Stag Lord rests on his lap; it is clear which one his authority comes from. A great mahogany table sits in front of him, extending far enough in both directions from his wooden throne to seat at least a dozen on each side. There are only four to his left, and four to his right, spaced apart from each other.

To Myrdal's left sits Svetlana Leveton, a simple peasant woman who gazes upon them with pity and empathy. Next to her is her husband Oleg, a grizzled man with a sour look upon his face and one arm. The priest of Erastil, the wise and stubborn Jhod Kavken, looks intensely at each of them in turn as they enter. Corwin, a simple mercenary warrior made ruler of the Guard, looks angry. For several of the accused, they remember back to the day that he led a group of Guardsmen into their lair and defeating their leader.

To Myrdal's right, Kesten Garess sits comfortably. The nobleman had been disgraced in Brevoy, but here he was a trusted member of the nation's inner circle. Akiros Ismort, once a bandit like them, stares impassively at them as he sits rigidly in his chair. The elven woman Tandlara, who speaks in whispers with unknowable eyes, sits next to him, though he seems uncomfortable near her. Zander, the White Stag, sits in the final chair with his helmet off and set on the great table.

Verik Jarrow, a cleric of Abadar, leads the proceedings. Normally a member of the Council, he stands apart in order to present the case for and against the accused. It is a position of great responsibility, for he must not allow his own feelings to sway the Council. He must present both sides fairly for proper judgement.

This proceeding is bound by custom. Verik may lead the proceedings as he sees fit. He may call witnesses, simply recite facts, or question the accused, and can allow any of the judges to do the same (or request that they do). If the accused demands trial by combat, he may decide whether or not to allow it. Guilt or innocence is decided by an agreement of 6, and punishment by an agreement of 5.

Disguise (minor details only): 1d20 + 2 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 2 + 5 = 24

In the gallery sits Taisper. He is in a spot where he can make eye contact with any of his companions if needed, but otherwise is minding his own business and watching the proceedings. His hair is tucked under a cap and he wears fake bifocals. His manner of dress is that of a dowdy clerk. There could well be some in the gallery who recognize his distinctive, golden eyes, but to most he is just another citizen, probably indeed a clerk, or perhaps a librarian or barrister studying how law is practiced here. Whatever the case, his presence just sort of slides by those around him, failing to really register one way or the other.

Those that know him too intimately to be fooled by such a frankly silly disguise might wonder just what he was up to, if he hadn't been doing this sort of thing so much lately. "The key is not to hide, for then you can't get anything done." That was what Master Hunter Borag had said. "The key is to be so anonymous, you do not need to hide." Taisper would always be known to those with whom he shared his early struggles. There was no point in attempting to deceive them Until necessary, anyway, and that will be an interesting day, but the mass of regular citizens of Sanctuary would never know who was in their midst.

His shining eyes wide and focused, the inquisitor watches his cousin and his companions go to work while simultaneously listening to the conversations around him. He would not be at all surprised if there were other malcontents present.

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (13) + 8 = 21

Verik stands up from his chair at the far end of the table away from the others that make up the Tribunal, stepping forward to where he stands roughly midway between the table and the accused. He stands apart as the mortal agent of the Lawgiver, as Judge and Keeper of the Laws of Newhaven. He adjusts his white and gold-trimmed robes along with his newer white cloak, resisting the urge to check his tall white hat bearing the Golden Key of Abadar as it always feels like it will fall off at an inappropriate time. He takes a calm, measured breath. Well you wanted to be seen as the Banker of Newhaven Verik Jarrow, so here you are. No turning back now. Take a breath and Order your mind. Be as hard as needs be, impartial justice without corruption or vengeance…

”Prisoners, you stand as the Accused before a Tribunal of those that bear the dutiful mantle of dispensing judgment for the realm of Newhaven and its citizens. As the appointed Agent of the Lawgiver, I stand before you as Adjudicator of the Laws of Newhaven, not as High Cleric of the Council. At this time I proclaim this Trial to have formally begun, sanctioned under the just and divine Eyes of the Lawgiver.”

Verik speaks his next words from daily rehearsals in the past week, so he has them well memorized. Fortunate that I had time these past two months to go over the laws of Brevoy and for the Council to decide on these alterations, given how barbaric Brevian Law is… “Before deliberations of the Accused begin, know well the rights and obligations placed upon you all under the Statement of Proceedings. Firstly, the Right of Issue Declaration states the Accused shall know all charges laid against them, which will be read aloud momentarily. Secondly, the Right of Separate Justice for Separate Issues means you shall receive punishment for each charge you are guilty of, with punishment appropriate for that crime. Thirdly,” Verik turns back towards the Tribunal, with a quick but direct glance at Akiros as he speaks, ”the Right of Past Issue Irrelevance means your guilt or innocence of these charges cannot reflect ANY event or action from your past – that is unless you were judged guilty from a prior crime in Newhaven. Therefore, previous…occupations…cannot and will not be taken into account.”

”Fourthly, the Right of Exception to Divine Verification means the usage of divinations or spells of truth-telling cannot be imposed upon the Accused to determine guilt or innocence. It should be noted, however,” Verik turns to impress this point upon the prisoners, ”that IF you are judged guilty, divine methods CAN be used to ascertain details in determining the severity of your punishment. Also, you may waive this Right if you wish for the Truth-Telling spell, with questions composed and determined by the Tribunal before the casting.”

”Fifthly and lastly are the Obligations of Communal Action and Deliberative Non-Circumstance; these state that you can be judged guilty of a crime you willingly and knowingly took part of, even though you did not physical commit the action yourself. Also, mitigating circumstances, excuses and the like SHALL NOT influence your guilt or innocence in committing a crime, only the degree of punishment if you are found guilty.”

Verik takes a step forward towards the prisoners, gazing at the younger ones specifically. ”Prisoners, do you understand your Rights and Obligations under Newhaven Law as I have described to you? Yes? If not I am Oathbound to explain the Law to you…” Verik finds no one speaking up other than a sneer from their leader, and the others apparently too afraid to speak, so he continues on with a grim expression. ”Very well then, I shall reveal the charges of the crimes you are accused of.”

He takes forth a small roll of parchment from his robes, unrolls it and reads it aloud, calling each of their known names first followed by their crimes and counts – each is accused of all five main crimes due to how they were discovered in their last stand. ”…and finally Ghamont Jannsen, self-styled the “Red Stag” of Sanctuary, you stand Accused of the charges of Thievery, Banditry, Violent Thuggery, Willful Murder of a Citizen of Newhaven, and Willful Murder of a Sworn Guardian of Newhaven, with multiple applications of each charge.”

With the charges read, Verik walks back and hands the parchment to Zander at the far right end of the table before continuing, spreading his hands to the prisoners in one last offer. ”Prisoners, before there are any further deliberations by this Tribunal to ascertain guilt or innocence on the charges read to you, do any of you wish to waive your Right of Exception to Divine Verification? If so, your proceedings will be handled differently by this Tribunal. This is your final opportunity."

"Members of the Tribunal, are there any questions or additional clarifications required? If not, we shall begin with the events on the 8th of Kuthona and the death of Ledyard Karraden…”

Verik spends the next couple of hours presenting the facts of the crimes committed, citing each crime’s date and approximate time, and calling forth witnesses for each case as able. The first crimes against the Newhavener Ledyard Karraden on the 8th of Kuthona are the most unclear, as the only witness was a distant laborer who could only identify the cloak and stag helm and a rough count of under a dozen men, but no other details. Verik calls the laborer before the Tribunal and has him relate his testimony – as is his Choice and Right he stands in the Hall behind a ‘screen’ of black cloth that does not reveal his face to the Accused from a distance, but which allows him to see the faces of the Accused and is also visible to answer Verik and the Tribunal directly.

The next crime is to Verik the most unsettling, as four days after the first murder the Accused slew a young couple in an alley near to the castle, leaving behind their ten-year old son alive but orphaned – Tandlara mercifully took the boy Eddard in under her ‘wing’, and was able to get him to speak as witness this morning. Verik tries to ask Eddard about the events as delicately as he can, but the time is long as the boy sobs and cannot speak for long moments. Ghamont Jannsen laughs cruelly at one point, inciting protests of outrage from the assembly and the guards to remove him forcefully from the Hall for a time. Verik’s heart breaks for the boy, and he tries to lend him courage to carry through, saying gently, “Lad I know this must be the hardest thing you have ever had to do, but your mother and father are with you, the Light of Abadar shines upon them and upon you now, and they want the Truth to be known. You stand with all of Newhaven as your extended family now, and we will not let you fall! Go on now and speak true and as best as you are able, and make your mother and father proud.” In the end Eddard continues and recounts with amazing detail the physical features of the ones that he saw brutalize and kill his parents, though he does not point at them all.

Seven days later on the 19th of Kuthona was the final night of the Red Stag Band’s crimes, as they boldly and foolishly slew two of Corwin’s guards as they were caught in the act of robbing and beating Aiken Glennari the Elder, though he too was slain before he could escape. It had been a fresh snow that day, and the guards had shouted alarms before they were taken down, so the tracks were fresh and clear when Taisper came upon them. Verik loudly summons Taisper Stozs to testify but does not him see appear after three calls. This causes a host of murmurs and whispers from the assembly, and it is several long minutes as they search for him before he suddenly appears entering the Hall as if he had just come from a relaxing stroll. A pale Verik takes a visible breath and straightens his robes while inadvertently adjusting his hat. Blasted bloody dream-addled cousin… Naturally, Taisper waives his right of the screen and stands openly facing the Accused as he answers the questions. Verik notices it is the one time the defiant cocky smile on Jannsen fades, replaces by something that looks like worry, or perhaps fear?

With the tracking of the Red Stag Band to their “hideout” at a warehouse that once held excess lumber and stone for the construction of the castle, the final events are recounted by Verik, bringing forth several of Corwin’s guards to act as witnesses on the events of the last battle. Fortunately for Verik, plenty of Corwin’s men were more than willing to testify, foregoing the awkward situation of him having to call Corwin or Zander as witness, which by his interpretation would have forced the prospect that they could not preside on the Tribunal. Also, he had no wish to call Alexius Morai-Thrune’s testimony under any circumstances if it could be otherwise avoided.

The guards in turn relate in rather gruesome detail of the deaths of two more of their own in the fight, as well as eight of the Red Stag men and the capture of the last four. They call out each prisoner that they saw fighting or brandishing a weapon.

With the full accounting of events and witnesses now sealed, Verik moves to the final questioning of the Accused…

Not wanting to make too many assumptions here on which ones did what, so left it a bit general before Verik goes on to questioning each of them.

The Council watches the three orphan boys closely as Verik pores through the testimony. The one named Travess with dirty black hair and long face looks down as Verik recounts the events that brought him and the others to imprisonment. He doesn't look up when one of the guards points to him as one of the ones holding a club and striking one of the guards, who was injured but survived. The youngest of the group, a Varisian boy called Yanna, has a defiant look the entire time. It isn't directly challenging or cocky like Jannsen is, but he stares at the Council with disrespect. When the guards describe how he cut down one of their men with a sword, his demeanor breaks momentarily and he shows genuine fear. The oldest boy, Demitir, a gaunt bookish-looking teen with brown hair, looks worried the whole time, but visibly relieved when the guards don't specifically name him as a combatant. He then visibly slumps when one of the guards suddenly changes his testimony to say that he thinks that he did see him with a dagger of some sort in the corner.

Then there is the Red Stag. The man smirks as the witnesses lay out his actions and describe how his gang led the slayings. He smirks as Eddard, the orphaned boy, cries. He smirks as Verik lays out a litany of his crimes. He shows no emotion beyond bored amusement and smug self-satisfaction during the hours of testimony. When Verik finishes, he actually lets out a scoff.

A clear, rich voice calls out as Verik completes the accounting of the Accused's crimes. "Pardon me, may I address the Council? It is germane to this proceeding." The crowd assembled to watch the trial turns to the door. A man stands in the doorway, the source of the interruption. He is a heavy-set man with thick jowls covered by a thin beard. His hair is slicked and coiffed, with a delicate small hat upon his head. He wears blue robes of fine quality, likely some imported luxury from Jalmeray or an even more exotic place, with a heavy gold broach on a chain around his neck and numerous gold rings upon his fingers. He has a pampered look to him, one out of place on the frontier or anywhere in Brevoy. He has neither weapons nor armor, but stands with a confidence that a sellsword would kill to have.

K(Religion): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20 -- is this guy some kind of religious figure?
K(Arcana): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8 -- barring that, anything to indicate he's a 'caster?

Once again in "disguise", Taisper watches with mild curiosity from his position in the gallery as this newcomer speaks up. He looks for any clues of affiliation or arcane power he can see...

This!..This is what I do not want to be doing the rest of my life.

Zander fights to keep his eyes open during Verick's hours of testimony and questions. The importance of the situation is not lost on him, but Gods, this cannot be what it means to bring justice to the frontier.

For the Red Stag, he is ready to just throw him a sword and have him defend himself. At least that would put an end to this. The only mental stimulation he can muster is imagining the possibility of taking the boys in as wards of the Wardens. They are but children, no matter what they were led to do. What they need is direction and a new chance to atone.

But he will make no move till he hears Corwin's thoughts on the matter. It was his guards that suffered the losses, and Zander does not seek to create a rift between the defense forces.

"Well, ahh yes well it is irregular..." utters a surprised Verik as the richly dressed man appears in the Hall to speak. Rocks on the Scales Verik, it's not as if any of this is routine is it? What truth has been hidden from this?

"...well yes somewhat irregular but that does not outweigh its potential importance to this Tribunal. You may approach sir, but I ask that you state your name, your homeland and your occupation before this gathered Assembly so that we may know you. Also, the veracity of your testimony must be weighed on the scales carefully, as you are neither known to us nor previously known how you have come by these events. Come forward then sir."

Verik politely but curtly gestures to a place near him before the Council, and takes two steps to the side to yield him the floor, watching him intently.

Sense Motive to the Stranger's words 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (12) + 11 = 23

Perception of the Stranger's mannerisms 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8 heh eyes like an eagle!

Perform: Oratory 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (10) + 16 = 26

The man gives a bow, dipping low and lingering for a beat before returning. "I certainly have nothing to hide by giving my name. I am Grigori, a simple bard recently of New Stetven. I speak today not to give testimony, but rather to act as advocate for these misguided young souls. It is their right, as I understand, to have someone speak for them if they wish it. I know nothing of this case beyond what I have heard on this day, and while the crimes which they are accused of are great, the risk of injustice causes me to speak up on their behalf. Do any of you object?" He directs his questions to the Accused, none of whom speak up to object. Jannsen smirks and maintains steady eye contact with Zander, though the others look remarkably bewildered by this turn of events. Grigori continues speaking before anyone has an opportunity to interrupt him. There is some muttering from the audience, not all of it unsympathetic. "If it pleases the Banker, I beg to be a humble servant to ensure that justice is done here today."

"Indeed." He looks at Grigori before him, hearing his words and closely noting his mannerisms. Verik has a frown upon his face, knowing something is not as it seems here, feeling a wrongness to this turn of events, but not precisely knowing where it will lead them. He could simply dismiss the man and his proclaimed passion to act as advocate - the Right of Advocacy was declined by each man before the trial as there was no one who would speak for them - but to do so would seem to be unnecessarily harsh in his mind. This trial had to demonstrate that Newhaven was fair and just, regardless of difficulty. Advocacy in the Law was a touchy subject to Verik, for in Absalom he witnessed many who were guilty skirt and flaunt the laws with clever manipulation of loopholes and procedure - indeed his own father, uncles and grandfathers had long participated and profited from such actions. Yet there were good reasons for advocacy, and he knew that too. Time to decide.

Verik clears his throat and speaks aloud. "Well then Master Grigori, bard recently of New Stetven, your request to engage the Right of Advocacy for the Accused is granted. But by your own admission as you have no prior dealings or knowledge of these events, the time of testimony and calling of witnesses has been sealed. I will now question each of the Accused, at the conclusion of which you may ask your own questions in turn, the results of which will be jointly stated before the Council for consideration. If the Accused are deemed guilty of one or more of the charges, you will have opportunity later to speak on behalf of these men as it relates to their punishment, but that is not for now. I remind both you and the Assembly here of the Rights and Obligations that shall be observed as Newhaven Law - if you have a point of issue, bring it to me and we will discuss it privately."

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24
Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (6) + 9 = 15
Stealth (leaving): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18

What is this. Taisper's eyes narrow, and he gets up from his seat, stumbling a bit to disguise his gait. He exits on the side opposite this intruder, keeping his back to the man the whole way. that grinnin' meatbag he watches the fat man and he grins bigger that's nothin' i'm gonna let stand he got eyes just like 'em all don't he and don't he watch with 'em

Once clear of the gallery, Taisper exits the courtroom as quietly and quickly as possible and ditches his disguise, removing the hat and glasses and coat, wrapping them up and putting them in a small messenger bag he's wearing. He takes a single clean, clear breath and focuses on the Lawgiver, on the Master, on protections from the evils men do, and on his appearance. He then erases himself.

Invoking Judgment/Purity (+1 on all saves), then casting Invisibility, 1/2 2nd level spells.

The inquisitor comes in a different door, then, being careful to emit no sound, and stands about 30ft. away from the newcomer. As Verik continues to go through the procedures, Taisper is very busy, focusing on the man's aura, attempting to tease out more about his possible motives.

Stealth (entering): 1d20 + 5 + 20 ⇒ (5) + 5 + 20 = 30
Stealth (standing still): 1d20 + 5 + 40 ⇒ (18) + 5 + 40 = 63
Taisper will use his Detect Alignment class feature to see if Grigori emits an aura of chaos, law, evil or good or any combination thereof.

Perception 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 26

Grigori bows again, even deeper this time than the first. "I understand, and I bow to your wisdom. Please, continue with your questions for the Accused. I must remind the assembled Council that they are Accused at this point." He gestures, as if to allow for the questioning to begin.

Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (12) + 9 = 21

what are you looking for you meatbag, you eyes in a meatbag they movin' they seein' what what they seein'

Taisper remains stone still, and simply watches. Grigori is within a hair's breadth of Judgment right now, and if his masked aura was any indication, he probably knew it. Caution was to be advised in dealing with this one. takes one to know one i bet

so okay then you here for somebody who is it? you here for me, eyes and meat? i can wait...oh, i can wait... the Voice runs rampant through Taisper's mind. After all, God was on his side.

Sense Motive -> 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11
Perception -> 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (11) + 7 = 18

The loud interruption stirs Zander from his stupor. What is it about Verik's voice that sends me off. As he gathers his senses back to himself, he looks over this man. Have I seen him in town before? He does not look familiar.

Zander sits more up straight as he realize a game is afoot. Someone has challenged Verik's running of this trial. If anything, even the entertainment value, Zander pays much more attention. He notices the man, this Grigori, keeps a firm eye on the crowd. Is he showing off, or perhaps looking for compatriots?

Perception -> 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 23

Absently he fidgets with his helm, picking a small burr out of the fur. Zander's attention focused on Grigori, his helm ever so slightly turns on the table too as he worries the burr free. The pair stare silently, taking in the next scene, their eyes too now more on the crowd, looking for any sign of trouble.

Verik's Perception on Grigori 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23

Verik makes a point to stay silent for a moment, watching Grigori and then looking right up to the rest of the assembly, then back to him with his eyebrows raised. Turning to the guards in the Hall, he instructs them to remove all but Demitir to an adjacent chamber. Once this is done, he begins the process of questioning him.

"Demitir Stagborn of Newhaven, you know the charges leveled against you, and you have heard the accounts of the crimes committed, including witness testimony. Under the Gaze of the Lawgiver, answer now fully and truthfully my questions of your involvement in these matters. Fail to do so, and the scales will be weighed heavily against you. Once you have answered my questions, additional ones may be asked by your advocate, as well as any member of this Tribunal's Council."

Verik knows he is not the fastest thinker on his feet, but he has prepared himself for the questioning, with parchment and quill on a table nearby as he needs it to make notes for himself. What he lacks in unrehearsed wit, he makes up with his intuitive sense of detecting falsehood in statements, sensing of emotion and shifts in demeanor. Verik starts with Demitir first, as he believes he may not have been the most willing member of the Red Stag's band - certainly not at the last fight in the warehouse.

"Demitir, did you slay Ledyard Karraden on the 8th of Kuthona?" He assumes Demitir says no "No? Did you rob him of his gold before he was slain?" Assuming again, no. "No you say again? Who slew Karraden with a blade if it was not by your hand? Do not lie to me Demitir - what was your part then when your band attacked Master Karraden? Were you a lookout then? What was your job given to you?"

"Why was Ghamont wearing the Stag Helm that night?"

"What did Travess do during the attack? What did Yanna do?"

"Who hit or held Master Karraden before he was killed - if not you then whom?"

"What reason did Ghamont give you all for killing Ledyard that night, or were you not expecting that to happen?"

"How much gold was your share of the night? What did you do with your share?"

Unless interrupted, Verik continues his questions in rapid succession, only pausing to peer at Demitir intently, or to walk over and scribble a note on his parchment before continuing. When questioning Demitir, he does not break his gaze with him, and tells the young man to look at him whenever he looks down or away.

Verik's Sense Motive on Demitir's replies (Taking 10 preferred if he can focus) (10)+11=21

He moves from the crime against Ledyard Karraden to the crime against Eddard and his parents, asking many pointed questions about why they killed Eddard's mother, and why they spared Eddard's life, and who killed each one. Verik will then ask questions about the final robbery of Aiken Glennari and who specifically attacked the responding guards, asking Demitir pointedly why he and the others did not run but attacked the pair of guardsmen.

His last questions to Demitir will be about the fight in the warehouse, as he is personally not convinced Demitir wanted to fight the guardsmen.

"Demitir, you brandished a dagger to fight the guards, yet you did not fight. Why did you do this? Why did you not attack as the others did? Your band slew two guards earlier that night, but here in your hideout you had a reason to pause? Did Ghamont order you to attack? Did you disobey him?"

At the end of the interrogation, Verik turns towards Grigori and then the Council. "The Advocate for the Accused may now ask his questions of Demitir Stagborn, upon the conclusion of which the members of the Council may ask questions if they so choose, or remain silent if they have none."

Perception 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (7) - 1 = 6
Sence Motive 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (6) - 1 = 5

Berrin is more annoyed that intrigued by the sudden appearance of the bard. Sighing heavily he rubs his temple to appease the growing head-ache starting to make it's presence known. Looking up again he tries to re-focus on the matters at hand, a deep-set frown on his face.

Percetion 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (12) - 1 = 11

'Come on, come on! Get on with it!' Feeling his back staritng to stiffen up Berrin shifts in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. Moving around only makes things worse though as the change in position reveals a growing numbness in his backside.

Growing frustrated at the prolonged trial Berrin looks accusingly at everyone who'll meet his eye, naming them the cause of his torment. "Get on with it." he growls quietly through clenched teeth.

Intimidate 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20

Demitir looks up when he is asked the questions by Verik. Brushing the hair from his eyes, he takes a deep breath and answers. He goes over the events in order, his voice trembling as he answers. He says that he didn't kill anyone, nor was he even there the night that Ledyard Karraden was murdered. He explains that he had not joined the group until only a few nights before the guards came in, and that his role was just a simple porter and counter. He explains that the others left while he was in the warehouse with a few of the younger others, and that they came back with a few of them covered in blood. He looks at Jannsen now and then, clearly afraid of him. He refuses to say that he saw Jannsen wearing the Red Stag's helm or that he was bloody.

Grigori steps up after Demitir finishes. "Demitir, do you feel that you have been given a fair trial, considering that the Steward, the man that leads this Council who is supposed to look at the evidence against you fairly, seems restless and intent on simply going through with this farce of a trial with his decision already made?"

Demitir looks at him surprised, then looks at Berrin. "I s'ppose not, considering that I may lose my head for this." His voice is halting and hesitating as he speaks.

Grigori stands in front of him with his back to the Council, facing the audience and Demitir. "Demitir, have any of them asked you about your family? Have they asked why you were with these brigands? Do you think that they would be surprised to discover that your parents are dead and that your younger brother was gravely ill after last month's plague outbreak? Why did you feel the need to take it upon your shoulders when he was sick, when it should have been the responsibility of those who allowed the infection to take hold of the population in the first place?" He pauses for a moment, letting it ripple through the crowd. "Demitir, are you aware that your brother has died while you have been held captive here?"

The young man breaks down and starts crying. "Dominic... He was just four years old... When he got sick... I couldn't..." He breaks down into sobs as the audience discusses this amongst themselves in hushed tones.

On the off-chance he's spinnin' a mighty yarn, here... Sense Motive: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 9 = 14

Taisper rolls his eyes. While he can certainly understand the pain of losing family, he fails to see what this has to do with the crimes that were committed. A criminal's motives do not mitigate his crimes, they are simply a back story, and easily embellished in order to attempt to gain sympathy from too-easily-swayed juries. This sloppy tugging at heartstrings, like a puppy at a pants leg, must surely be transparent to his cousin.

Grigori now you are Judged. I will take Currency from you. You do not come here and question my cousin's work, my kingdom's mission. Taisper remains where he is, watching the bard as he does what bards do; act.

Verik interrupts Demitir before he can continue, seeing how the trial is being unhinged before his eyes. "Enough! This is a trial for high crimes, all of which are serious and have caused suffering to many, leaving eight dead and at least one lad orphaned. IF Demitir Stagborn is found guilty of any of these crimes, mitigating circumstances may lessen the punishment, but the crime committed is just that. Does the loss of family make murder something less severe? No it does not!"

So this is a play then and we are the fools eh. I should have known better...no no the law allows for advocacy, and we are trying to show justice here. I would not have done differently, but how to corral this now?

"Demitir Stagborn's questioning is over - guards remove the accused and bring forward Travess next. Grigori of New Stetven, if you speak an ill-turn against the methods of this Tribunal or Newhaven Law again, I shall have you removed and you can ramble about in the snows outside the walls."

Blast! We cannot arrest this man for contempt, no such laws are written yet. Who would think someone would flout the blasted trial? Hmm yet another matter I had not considered...

Perform: Oratory 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (2) + 16 = 18

Grigori points an accusatory finger at Verik as the guards pull Demitir out of the hall rather forcefully. "Demitir's last name is not Stagborn! Like many born with nothing, he has no last name beyond being called his father's son. You have given him that name, sir, to unduly prejudice the audience against him so that you can give this trial some legitimacy! Then, when a simple man speaks up against it, you threaten him? It seems that Newhaven Law, sir, is what you say it is! You seek blood for blood to slake the blood thirst of those who you rely on to maintain your power! That boy did nothing, and you are intent on taking his head. You deprived him of his right to answer all questions posed to him regarding his actions, asking only those that fit your idea of what happened that night so that you can find him guilty. Judging on the way that the Steward has been acting, he would like nothing better than to swing the sword himself!" He stands defiantly, almost out of breath, still pointing.

Whoever chooses to respond to Grigori, if anyone does, must beat a DC 18 Perform: Oratory check. Alternate skills may be appropriate to the situation. This is to maintain the loyalty of the crowd.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (15) + 10 = 25 and add +1 to that for any women in the audience, via Taisper's Charming trait.

THAT'S IT!

Taisper walks around a stone pillar and dismisses his invisibility as he does so, making it look as if he just appeared from thin air, or perhaps from a secret door, or...other places. He steps calmly forward and addresses the crowd, ignoring Grigori completely. Taisper is standing tall, his golden hair hanging richly down past his shoulders and his golden eyes shining with charm as he speaks. He is relaxed, confident, friendly. The exact opposite of the out-of-breath, tomato-cheeked, ranting bard standing not 20 feet away.

"Hey everybody, let's keep our calm here. How you guys doing, huh? Staying warm? Got enough food? Things going okay? Remember, anything we can do to help you all, we're here for you. You can talk to us." He smiles broadly, warmly, like your best friend. It is completely genuine, and everyone here knows it. "I won't speak for fellas from other cities who just come on in here to our home trying to make a mockery of our hard work, siding with accused criminals undergoing due process, the way fair-minded citizens like yourselves would have things be done, yeah, I won't speak for folks like that..." pointedly NOT looking at Grigori, here, "...but for us, I know, family is important, having the product of our hard work is important, and seeing those who would endanger such things be tried is important, too. We're doing our best here, you know, me and my cousin, there, and shucks we may make some mistakes, you know? I mean, I might, Verik is real good at what he does, so he won't, but we'll listen to you guys and make sure things get done right, and justice is served. So let's all just stay calm, and hear everybody out, and know that we're doing things OUR way in OUR home, and not being TOLD OTHERWISE by meddlers, busybodies, freeloaders, or fey and foppish ACTORS from snooty big towns, am I right?" Taisper finishes with an encouraging look at the crowd, seeking for them to answer him with a resounding "RIGHT!" or similar, of assent.

Most - but not all - of the audience start expressing support of Taisper's speech. A few shout some encouragement, some clap, but most seem very much on his side. A small number, far less than a third, seem even somewhat receptive to Grigori. The bard tries to regain control of the situation, not by appealing to the crowd, but by remaining pointedly facing Verik. "Is this how justice works in Newhaven? Someone trying to ensure that the trial is fair and true must beg for an audience, but the cousin of the judge gets to speak his mind without asking permission? How long will it be before it's official, and only those with personal connections to your little group have any rights or privileges?"

Taken aback Berrin feels a pang of guilt wash over him by Grigori's words, realizing that he's right; he had already made up his mind about their guilt. Though he had only heard second hand descriptions and accusations Berrin came into the court convinced of their guilt and ready to take their heads. Blinking in embarrassment Berrin shifts in his seat and opens his mouth to defend himself but, looking away, shuts it and remains silent, though by the shift in his posture and the focus writen on his face it is plain to see that the bard has captured his rapt attention along with the crowds.

Listening to Grigori bandy words with Verik and watching him play the crowd is little confusing to Berrin till he realizes what Grigori is doing, 'He's swaying the crowd!' he realizes, 'He's playing on their fears, their hopes, their loyalties.' he thinks with mounting anger. 'He's playing us for fools!'

Intimidate vs. Grigori 1d20 + 8 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 8 + 1 = 26 +1 more if Gregori is considered a thug/brigand type character.

"Enough!" Berrin suddenly roars, ramming the point of his greatsword into the stone floor with a resounding crack. His mounting anger had risen to a fury wich he now directed at Gregori. "What is the meaning of this? What game are you playing here, bard? Do you think you can play us for fools?! Is this court a mockery to you?! A stage for you to twist words and play with emotions?" he says, his voice dripping with scorn as he scolds the bard. "You wish to speak for the accused..." Berrin emphasizes the word accused, "..You wish to ensure they recieve fair hearing. Very well, you may, they had no one willing to speak for them till your timely arrival."

"But you may not, I'll repeat myself this one time. One time only. You may not! Make a mockery of this trial by undermining this courts authority or legitimacy. Do not presume to speak as if you know us. Any of us. Do not presume to twist our words or our intentions. Dimitri Stagborn is a name taken by himself, for himself. He chose that name and he will stand by it to this court. You are no simple man, that is plain. What you hope to achieve here by this mockery is unknown to me, nor do I really care. You will show the proper respect, or you will breath your words to the howling wind outside. Our High Banker may be to timid to call you out, but I am not. If you wish to consider this a threat, good. But consider yourself warned. State your case plainly and simply, do not presume to play us."

Edit; Grigori should behave himself for 1d6 ⇒ 1 x10 = 10 minutes before dropping to downright unfriendly toward Berrin ;)

Taisper nods as Berrin speaks and backs up towards the warrior to stand by him in a clear show of support and solidarity. He crosses his arms over his chest and stares down Grigori, the first time he's made eye contact with the outsider.

I should have said something... Zander can't help but nod approval at Berrin's words. It was his place and he said it better than I ever could, but if need be, I will do what I must...No. What must be done... to ensure this Red Stag receives his justice.

Zander shifts in his seat, getting the balls of his feet under him, watching Grigori's response.

Verik looks at amazement first at Taisper, then at Berrin, nearly losing his hat as he swivels his neck back and forth between them. Light and Weal be praised cousin, for he has the truth of it, and better than I could have sparred...and when it seems Berrin's ledger has him all sorted out he does something to throw the book away and starts a new book. This fool wasn't expecting this, but he'll turn this around somehow if we let this go on for much longer...

"Sadly Berrin, this puffed popinjay is looking to play us even now, and has utterly no intention of respect or presenting anything plainly and simply. But you have miscalculated your mockery, Grigori of Discord, if you think to paint us with this brush of yours. I do not see these good law-abiding folk of Newhaven falling prey to your false charms, for they have come here from places where true tyranny and injustice reigns, where they cannot rise above being pawns of the nobles that have forgotten their fundamental duties to their own people. Citizens of Newhaven, we may disagree at times, but am I wrong on this?"

Verik's Diplomacy with Silver-Tongued Haggler bonus 1d20 + 10 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 10 + 2 = 19

"Phah! Save your rantings for the anarchic alleys of Galt, or for Mivon where innocence is based largely on the skill with an Aldori blade, or the insanity of Razmiran where justice is handed out by the whims of a tyrannical false god. You speak of injustice? I invite you to find it in Pitax then. But you shall not do it here, and you have disrupted these proceedings for far too long now. Leave now."

Perform: Oratory 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (19) + 16 = 35

Grigori looks around, clearly frightened by Berrin's threats. He tries his best to maintain any control of the situation, moving towards the door. "I understand. The Judge wishes not to hear my words. It seems that this trial is nothing more than a show to distract the people of this city, with the conclusion decided long before a single word of testimony is given. I will leave, sir, but of my own accord. I would not stand and watch idly as you toy with the lives of these boys for your own political game. I will take a stand, for I cannot in good conscience be any part of this. Your actions here today have sullied justice. I hope that when the blood is on your hands, you have difficulty washing it off." He walks out of the Hall, head held high. A few of the audience stand up and leave with him, but many more stay.

Verik resumes the testimony for several hours. By the end of it, it is clear that the remaining three all fought. No one testifies that they actually saw Ghamont Jannsen slay anyone, even while as the Red Stag. They place the onus of guilt upon those slain in battle. Yanna, the youngest, refuses to answer any questions, defiantly staring at them with angry eyes, especially when pressed about the skirmish in the warehouse where he cut down one of the guards. Travess answers the questions quietly and quickly when asked, but never raises his head to look at anyone.

Ghamont, on the other hand, is quick and sure to testify. He answers all of Verik's questions, laying the blame at the feet of many others. He explains that he slew no one, but rather he simply gathered the group to band together to find work in the city. He goes on to say that another, his trusted friend Bakter Davous, was the one who wore the Red Stag's helm and took the others to start robbing people without his knowledge or consent. When the others are questioned about this, Yanna refuses to speak and Travess fearfully glances at Ghamont before nodding to his story.

At the conclusion of the testimony, the guards lead the prisoners out to return them to their stockade. Additional guards lead the audience out so that the Council can make their decision. Once the last of the audience members leaves, the door closes and locks with a loud thud.

Immediately, Corwin slams his hand on the table. "Guilty, guilty, guilty, guilty. Each one shares the guilt with the other. No one made any of them do anything, and none of them are innocent. Their lives were forfeit when any of their number killed my men!"

Svetlana jumps in to counter. "Corwin, I know that you want justice for your men, but mindless violence is not justice, it's blind vengeance. Yanna is clearly terrified and just trying to keep a brave face. Travess may have struck the guardsman, but he's clearly more afraid of Ghamont than anything we can do to him. And poor Demitir!" She idly brushes Oleg's shoulder with her hand. "What would any of us do for someone that we loved? I can't even say that anything he did was wrong, other than try to make the best of a bad situation. His brother is dead. Isn't that punishment enough? I vote innocent for Demitir and Travess, and guilty for Yanna and Ghamont. I can't vote for their deaths, though. We don't have any proof that Ghamont slew anyone, and Yanna is too young to be held truly culpable for his actions."

The others are not so forceful with their opinions, apparently waiting for more discussion before voting.

Taisper, did you head out with the crowd or attempt to stay in with the Council? (Such a request would be up to Verik.)

The votes stand as thus:
Ghamont Jannsen: Yes 2-0 No
Demitir: Yes 1-1 No
Yanna: Yes 2-0 No
Travess: Yes 1-1 No