Shadow of Ascanor (A)

Game Master Mar Nakrum

And so, our dark story begins...

Short Bio:

Kiara was born in Nidal, was instructed into the art of shadow calling, and the worship of Zon-Kuthon. Kiara finished her training, and joined the Midnight Guard in Westcrown, where she found a new deity in Sivanah. Knowing her new religion was unacceptable, she did not return to Nidal as instructed, fleeing to Ustalav, keen to resurrect her noble heritage to better protect herself from any retaliation from Nidel or Westcrown.

Appearance:

Kiara is a slim human of average height, with long black hair. Her eyes are a dark brown, almost black, with her skin being in sharp contrast, being fairly pale. Kiara frequently wears a long robe with a hood, as well as a veil, allowing her to swiftly leave only her eyes visible, although it is far more common for her to have her hood down, and veil tucked to one side. Kiara naturally prefers dark clothing, feeling uncomfortable in anything brighter.

Short Bio: Aldric is grand-nephew to Count Beaturne who has been returned to the county in the last couple of years. Despite his family initially being ostracized due to its connection to the Count, Aldric has returned and become a bit of a social darling to the elite as a hunter. He has ambitions however and his grand-uncle's legacy may play a role...

Appearance.

Tall. Chiseled. Broad shoulders and large frame. Black hair and green eyes. Short cropped hair and a bit of a scowl. GM noted a similarity to Gaston from Disney's Beauty and the Beast. Probably not far off :p

Bio:

Jacob is of the Romero family and nephew to the head who was a vicious noble of Lozeri. His father despised his brother's misdeeds so he left the family to live in a small town far from him. Unfortunately, even after things had settled down after the revolution, there were many still bitter about what Romero had done. Once they found out one of that notorious family was living in their town they rallied together. Things got out of hand and they killed Jacob's family. They realized their mistake too late and let the boy go. He did not see that as a mercy but as a message. Jacob retains his hatred for those people which has lead to a general hatred of all people, humans mostly. So in his magical studies he has leaned towards necromancy.

Appearance:

Years on the run and on the streets has made him hardy but he is still lanky and weak from all the intense intellectual study which requires as much physical effort as turning a page. He is tall and thin but keeps it hidden behind scholarly robes. His hair is black and well kept. His face would be handsome with the sharp features, clean shave, and blue eyes. But the perpetual scowl ruins it. His familiar also has a habit of remaining stock still on his shoulder. A large raven that looks ever bit as sinister as he does.

Changed some things. Familiar now and switched out illusion for divination as an opposed school because the internet told me too.

Bio Yazmine Khera is a Qadiran native who has only moved to Ustalav after her father decided to marry into a dirt broke and crumbling noble house so he could have a title to go with his wealth. Although Beauturne had sent the invitation to Yazmine's stepmother, her father decided Yazmine was a superior candidate to participate in any dealings that may bolster their social and political status. Yazmine claims that her keen mind and sharp wit are by far her best weapons in any situation, and she's not wrong (she rarely is).

Appearance Yazmine is on the short side of the height scale, often sitting a few inches shorter than most women she comes across. Her skin tone is a warm medium to dark beige commonly found in the southern regions of her homeland, and her waist length hair is a dark brown that borders on black. Her features are generally soft, but her taunt tummy gives away her dedication to keeping herself in shape. Balance of the mind, body, and soul and what not. Deliberately ignoring local fashion in favor of the clothes from Qadira and Vudra, Yazmine is usually found covered with jewelry and sporting a saree made of fine silks in bright colors trimmed with gold.

Background: Born of a guildsman father and an old-blooded noble, Marris has known only resentment from his large maternal family. Gifted an insatiable ambition and curiosity, Marris turned the ire of his family against them and learned the dark secrets of his “noble” lineage. He lives under the name of his father, and vows to make that name synonymous with his dread power.

Appearance: Marris dresses finely, his dark beard is sharply cut and his balding hair kept short. Built tall and firm, he surprisingly favors unconventional weapons like the rope dart and cane sword. His most striking features are his grey-blue eyes that appear to burn with some unquenchable inner-fire.

Bio: Son of a diplomat and a courtier, Chester grew up hearing grand tales of his father's pursuit of justice and representation for all. Seeing where the life of a diplomat got his father, he would have gone on to become a barrister and perhaps magistrate someday. However, during his studies he happened upon an group of eldritch cultists and found himself swayed to the darker sensibilities. Now, the barrister-turned-necromancer works to bring about a new, more utilitarian, world order. And what better place to start than his ancestral home?

Appearance: A salt-and-pepper beard, streaks of grey at the temples, and a chiseled jaw mark Chester Banderfeld as a classically handsome gentleman heading into his middle years. His dark brown hair is worn short and loose, swept backward in a windblown tangle above frosty blue-grey eyes. While he often appears more than a bit frazzled and unkempt, he has become thoroughly practiced in pulling his look together to seem rather dashing, as if he's done it all quite on purpose. Lean and compact in build if not stature, Chester makes up for his lacking physical strength with a powerful personality and a charming smile for the ladies.

Act 1: Into the Woods

The once grand city of Ardis presides over the region like a decaying tomb, crawling with street gangs, ragged nobles, rats and the restless dead. You might have arrived by boat along the Senir River, or one of the many roads that spider-web out from the old capitol. Whatever the path, the Faithful Pilot tavern beckons you forward through the fog-wrapped streets. Inside, the local patrons smoke and drink away what meager subsistence they can acquire, generally from the merchants that ply the Ustalav’s arterial rivers. The merchants keep to themselves, eager to leave and unsympathetic to those who can’t, or choose not to, leave themselves.

As each of you enter, and announce yourselves, the barkeep sends you to a table in the middle of the drinking hall. In any other tavern, this would seem unfortunate, but none are interested in your peculiar meeting aside from an infrequent glance. Even if a table had not been set aside, it’s very likely the group would have naturally found its members, standing out as each of you do compared to the soiled populace.

Your previous letter from old Beauturne indicated for you to arrive and wait for all of the guests to assemble, then receive further instruction by letter.

So you sit.

And you wait.

Jacob Romero enters the inn dressed as any traveler might, just with slightly better clothes. With a flick of his wrist. the grim, dirt, and dust float away as if taken by a gust of wind and roll out the door. The tavern goers stare for a moment at the mage. They don't see them that often. But his haughty, arrogant look makes them turn away. Sometimes mages would put on a show for coin and to entertain the masses. Obviously this one did not. He shrugs his pack, though it only weighs 5 pounds, and heads to the bar. The barkeep points to a table so he goes to sit. And wait. Apparently he was the first. So be it.

Kiara arrives at the tavern early, the better to see ahead of time if the establishment was a trap or some sort. The chance was small, but in Kiara's opinion, paranoia never hurt anyone, or more correctly, it never hurt herself personally.

On the hour, Kiara idly chances some small manner of her appearance with her Prestidigitation spell, Hair color, eye color, the color of her clothes, to anyone observing it would have been seemingly random, because it really was, Kiara was merely going through the motions, making it difficult for anyone to really pinpoint her. Looking bored, but her beverage utterly untouched, Kiara sits in her corner and watches the time flit by.

"You know, if these people cared even a little about their appearance they would put in the extra effort to learn the most mundane of cantrips." The man on the other side of the table makes the comment while looking at the others in the bar with disgust. Apparently this is his idea of idle conversation. You know through experience that even such a mundane spell takes years of study to create the base of knowledge necessary to perform it and would be no easy task for anyone. He is either a genius himself or arrogant. The latter sounds more likely.

You could swear the raven on his shoulder rolled its eyes. "You all look silly to me," it states. He gives it an annoyed look but says nothing.

Kiara raises an eyebrow at the speaker, before giving a lazy shrug. "Perhaps they have more pressing things on their mind, such as finding food for the day, instead of studying for years to learn some of the more basic spells. Perhaps the mind they have might lack the ability to grasp the subtleties of magic. Or maybe I'm just better than them, who can tell?"

The door to the tavern opens with the creak of aged hinges to reveal a particularly elegantly dressed man with a far less elegant, though just as attractive, woman on his arm who both promptly step inside. The pair are followed closely by a similarly attired valet wearing a mask of Tragedy, to match his master's mask of Comedy that dangles carelessly off the fingers of one hand. The man in question withdraws his arm from the grip of his companion and murmurs quietly to her with a smile, before delivering a sound swat to her rear as she wanders away.

Looking very much as though he could - and already had - bought this establishment, he seats himself at the large table in the center of the room. It only seemed natural to find himself surrounded by those a step above the local rabble, at least in terms of appearances. His valet naturally moves to seat himself at an empty table near enough that he could be at his master's elbow at an instant, if necessary. "I do so hate to interrupt, but as I am but the second to arrive, I imagine we've yet to start? A shame. I try to make a point to be fashionably late."

Aldric enters soon after the others but lingers at the bar a moment, ensuring that he has a bottle and glasses of whatever passes for "good" drink. Settling his large frame at the table full of much more slight people the slayer sets out the glasses, uncorks the bottle, pours a portion for each person and pushes a glass to each.

I find that when business involves my family a good stiff drink is in order. Go on now, don't be shy.

Aldric offers an easy smile as he pushes back his first glass.

"..but you are fashionably late" Kiara grumbles almost to herself, taking a slight dislike to the new arrival (Chester) and the aura of casual entitlement he brought with him.

Rising from her dark corner, Kiara glides across to the table where the congregation where now seated. Indicating her full but untouched glass to Aldric she offers an apologetic glance "I don't tend to partake, not when business is being discussed...I find it addles my senses and leads me towards making...less than informed decisions, or otherwise compromising positions."

Aldric's face breaks into a wide grin as he shifts his weight forward with a leaned elbow on the table, My lady, sometimes the compromising positions are the best positions. Then moving back into his chair and sitting regularly he continues as he lets out a good natured sigh, But of course I understand. I offer it as a courtesy, nothing more.

The tavern door slides open at the behest of Marris' cane, and he pushes through it like an expert gondolier upon the water. A step, a forward motion of his arm, and the cane rests in the crook of his elbow. The door bangs closed as he briefly stares at each of his would-be accomplices.

Good evening. I am Marris Ghalmont of the Lepidstadt Millairs.

He thumbs his cane forward and points its head at Aldric, then demurely places it over his heart.

And you... Aldric Beauturne.

Excellent.

With a smirk, Marris assumes a position at the table. He sits back from the assemblage with arms crossed, cane braced against his chest.

It's a pleasure to meet all of you, I'm sure.

"Gladly, my friend. You're a gentleman and a scholar," Chester replies cheerfully over to Aldric as he takes a long sip of the offered drink. Settling the glass back to the table with a contented sigh, he turns his gaze toward Marris and offers a polite nod of his own. "I should hope the pleasure will be ours, though I imagine that depends entirely upon what you have to say on behalf of our absent benefactor?"

I can only say that he is infirm, and grotesque. As to our plans...

His shoulders wriggle.

A courier should have arrived some days ago, with instructions to have a letter entrusted to, he looks around, then gestures with his head toward the barkeep, that sullen man over there...

Marris quickly glances at everyone seated, but his eyes rest on Chester.

Until our entire company is in attendance.

Yazmine strode through the door as she would into her own throne room, a look of mild distaste evident on her face as her eyes sweep over the establishment's clientele. It doesn't take her long to pick out the table she was supposed to be at, it was the only one that didn't have the distinct smell of body odor wafting from it.

"Hmm, seems I'm late to the party," she purred in a thick Qadiran accent as she sauntered up towards her gathered peers. "I hope I have not kept you waiting long."

She stood to the side of an empty chair, looking quite like she expected it to pull itself out for her.

"Oh? And just whom is it that we are--" Chester's unfinished question trails off in the midst of asking as the door opens and the Qadiran steps in. "Little more than I have, I imagine. Do let me get that for you, love."

With that, he slides gracefully from his chair to draw her own back so that she might settle herself into it. All the better to get a good long look at her and take the measure of his new...friends, at the same time.

The barkeep perks up at the foreigner's entrance, then realizes that all of his guests have arrived. He dries his hands on his apron and ducks into the back of the tavern.

Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (8) + 9 = 17

Yazmine thanks the man who was pulling out her seat with a polite nod of acknowledgement. As she sits, she gives the room another once over, her eyes landing on one particular patron.

Now, now, what do we have here?

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 7 = 15

"The pleasure's mine," Chester offers as he slides her chair in for her and moves back around the table to his own seat again. Noting at least one person in the room with their eyes on the table, he settles himself down and tries to catch Aldric's gaze. If successful, he moves to cant his head subtly but pointedly in their eavesdropper's direction. "Remind me to introduce you to my traveling companion after our discussion is quite finished, won't you? I've no doubt she'd love to set eyes on someone like you. There's a good lad."

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14Drat :p

Aldric nods first at the newcomer who utters his name and seems to act in service of his grand-uncle and then nods again at the final guest. As the topic turns to a letter Aldric follows the bartender's approach...

[ooc]Not sure what GM would like me to roll to notice Chester's attempts to catch my eye.../ooc]

Aldric easily notices Chester's attempts to point out the unusual man.

Perception Jacob: 1d20 ⇒ 20
Perception Feigr: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14

As more people enter, Jacob seems to draw himself inward. It is not long before the first glass of offered drink is gone and he is nursing another. Too many people. Too many agenda's. Too much possibility of betrayal. He keeps an eye on everything going on and manages to catch someone paying far too much attention to them. "Feigr. Watch him." The bird was rattled out of its stupor enough to catch the quiet order. It takes to wing and lands in the rafters. He watches the hooded man as ordered, ready to give warning it tries something.

Kiara considers Aldric for a moment, with a hint of a smile "Fair enough, compromising positions do turn out well on occasion, why, I remember this one time..."

Kiara pauses as she notices two more people entering the tavern, each making quick introductions. Opening her mouth to answer the man calling himself Marris, she stops short again, feeling the atmosphere shift around her, although she is unsure as to what the root cause of the effect is. Her dark eyes quickly scan the room, mind rushing through scenario's as she shifts her posture to one of higher alert.

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11

I don't notice much unfortunately~

The barkeep shuffles back into sight with an ivory colored envelop trimmed in gold leafing. He nods to the mysterious man as he approaches your table, then stands awkwardly between Chester and Yazmine, nervously glancing down at the exotic beauty as he speaks.

I'm to give, eh, deliver this to Auldric Bea-Beauturne.

He looks expectantly at Marris, presuming him Beauturne by his forceful demeanor.

Marris sneers petulantly back at the barkeep.

The barkeep takes a -2 penalty to his Will saves while Marris stares at him.

Aldric nods slightly at Chester and keeps one eye on the stranger as the barkeep turns over the letter. Flipping the letter over in his hands Aldirc looks at the others and then open it, looking to read to contents before he shares it with the group. Aware that the table's members are not the only spectators, Aldric looks up from time to time and watches the stranger while he digests the letters contents...

The barkeep shivers when the true Aldric makes himself known, and immediately hands over the letter. He shuffles backward until the mysterious man stands and approaches. With a heavy hand on the barkeep's shoulder, he shoves the coin purse into the anxious man's hands, then strides for the door.

Realizing he's probably the richest local man in the tavern, the barkeep rushes into the back of the tavern with his prize. The clientele don't seem to notice the exchange, or care.

Aldric reads the letter twice, shaking his head upon the second completion and muttering to himself, Crazy old man, you really want to do this... Aldric looks up with a look that is somewhere between a mixture of excitement and skepticism as he folds the letter and tucks it into his clothes.

Looking out over the table the large man almost guffaws out loud as his mind races, I believe we should start with introductions before we discuss the contents of the letter. I am Aldric Beauturne, to the best of my knowledge the last descendant of Dorin Beauturne, my great-uncle. I am curious to know who I am joined by and what you know of your invitation to be here...

Yazmine concentrates her focus on the mysterious man who seemed to be on his way out the door, attempting to force her will on him and perhaps garner his favor in some way while getting a glimpse of the thoughts skimming through his mind.

As the bulkier fellow started speaking, she returned her attentions back to the guests at the table, regarding this 'Aldric' fellow with a critical eye.

Crazy foreign names...

"I am Yazmine Khera, daughter of Ardashir Petran, husband of Camelia Petran. I'm here in the stead of Camelia Petra, to whom the invitation was originally sent. My purpose is to consider forming an alliance with those present to secure my family's future in Ustalav."

Lozeri. That retched, vile, hive of imbecilic, barbaric peasants. Oh this was good. This is why he came. A chance at vengeance. A chance to pay back those murderous people that killed his family and forced him to flee his home. His birth-right. Perfect.

The alcohol must have been getting to him because he smiled just a tad too maniacally. "My name is Jacob. I dare not speak my family name this close to home. Might hinder our goals before they've begun. Suffice it to say I intend to change the people's perceptions of me," he says flashing the ring. Only a noble or someone very well informed would remember the flaming sword and shield crest of the house Romero. DC 20 nobility? And indeed he would change their perceptions. His uncle was a saint compared to what he intended to do. But patience was a virtue of his.

He had forgotten to call back Feigr who finds a window to swoop out of and follows the man who handed them the note.

DC 20 Nobility Checks to know general information about anyone at the table specifically, each needs to be rolled separately. If you succeed, the background information posted above is in-character knowledge for you.

As the mysterious man exits the tavern, he turns back and gives Yazmine a lusty, inviting look, giving you full view of his gnarled yellow teeth and axe-like nose. Then, thankfully, he disappears into the night.

Marris leans forward, inclining his head to get a better view of Aldric.

Trouble with the family matriarchy.

So here I am, instead. Willing to, how does your uncle like to say it..., reforge my destiny.

Knowledge Nobility Aldric: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (7) + 12 = 19
Knowledge Nobility Yazmine: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (18) + 12 = 30
Knowledge Nobility Jacob: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (16) + 12 = 28
Knowledge Nobility Marris: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (18) + 12 = 30
Knowledge Nobility Chester: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (16) + 12 = 28

Just Aldric I miss out on then.

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 2 = 21

Kiara notes the lusty look the mysterious man gives Yazmine and raises on slim, elegant eyebrow. "Honey, you seem to have attracted that ones eye fairly easily" she remarks casually, before getting on with her introduction.

"My name is Kiara, Kiara Alina, the blood of nobility still running through my veins. Being a fairly talented spellcaster, people looked up to me where I was from, but I think some people just got a little envious, or felt a little threatened, and before you know it there's people coming after you making attempts on your life and you have no idea why and its all very flattering but slightly annoying. Unfortunately, these sort of people tend to hide away and I have much better things to do with my time than chase shadows. I'm resurrecting my noble heritage, and sending up a neon sign saying "Here I Am". I imagine these stupid individuals will come find me, and I'll crush them, take away everything they care about, and then destroy anyone who they ever met for good measure. Then, I think I'll have to take up a new hobby, so, I don't know, maybe I'll take up stamp collecting".

No Knowledge nobility, so I guess Chester would rather get to know everyone far more personally.

A soft, bemused chuckle drifts up from Chester's lips as he listens to the introductions of the others. Grand goals all around, from the looks of things, though it all comes down to whether they are speaking the truth. As Kiara finished her speech, he clears his throat quietly and offers what he hopes to be a disarming smile around the table.

"Chester Marcel Banderfeld, and how lovely it is to meet all of you. Unsurprisingly, I've come to restore my family name to the rightful place within the region. Though, I've half a mind to turn the locale into a place worth speaking highly of, while I'm here. Either way, my inclinations seem to pale before those of all of you."

What sorcery is this "neon" you describe Kiara? :p

Aldric nods at the introductions, I will be honest, I have only recently returned to the area in the last couple of years after being raised in Ordanto. As such you are all unknown to me. Still, I know my family's legacy well and so too do many others, for good and for ill.

Aldric makes it a point to finish his drink and sets the glass down with a firm *thunk* on the table, My grand-uncle refers to this gathering as that of the "most talented and ambitious" of our ilk. I for one think that there is a madness to this idea but great risk leads to reward as they say...

Aldric contemplates the group as he folds his hands together and takes on a more solemn demeanor. With this is mind, the topic at hand. The letter contains one specific piece of information that we must contemplate; Ascanor Lodge. Apparently it lies abandoned and in disrepair. It is my grand-uncle's notion that we move to restore it and from there plot...grander ambitions. It seems to me the first order of business would be to confirm this detail for ourselves and assess what such an endeavor might require...

The large man raises his eyebrows as his voice trails off, inviting the others to speak up.

"It sounds like your grand-uncle needs a team of architects" Kiara responds wryly brushing a strand of hair away from her eyes as she considered the proposal.

"I can see how restoring the Lodge would be an excellent starting point. Restore it, and it serves as a statement of our unified goals, and as a symbol of power. Leave it in ruins, and it becomes a joke. With that said yet, I am not sufficiently advanced in my studies enough to repair the Lodge purely with magic, its likely the task would take some time, and would require outside assistance."

Marris gives a sly smile, "And who knows what's crawled into it since."

"The letter mentioned it was like a fortress. Doubt there will be much to repair. Just cleaning. And it sounded as if it has fallen to brigands or the like. I am sure they will make good servants as reparation for their past misbehavior. And a base of operations seems to be the first step in whatever it is your uncle has in mind for us," Jacob adds.

K:Nobility Aldric: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (3) + 10 = 13
K:Nobility Yazmine: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (14) + 10 = 24
K:Nobility Marris: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (7) + 10 = 17
K:Nobility Kiara: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (11) + 10 = 21
K:Nobility Chester: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (19) + 10 = 29

Kiara wrinkles her nose slightly "I hope you don't plan for us girls to do all the cleaning while you guys handle the squatters using it as a den. I like to be a part of the action too!"

Yazmine rolls her eyes as she skims the mystery man's thoughts.

Men. Three things on their mind; pretty women, money, and food.

She listens to the others discuss their motivations and go over the issue concerning the likely pest-infested manor, nodding slightly to herself as she processes the information. However, when Kiara mentions women cleaning, her head perks up and she looks alarmed and confused.

"Women? cleaning? Perhaps a slave woman, but most of those hardly count. Tell me you haven't stooped to such... mundane chores," Yazmine says in disgust at the very thought of lifting a finger to do something so dirty and below her station. Her face twists into that of someone who just drank sour milk as she imagines the dust on her clothes.

And it sounded as if it has fallen to brigands or the like. I am sure they will make good servants as reparation for their past misbehavior.

"You know, I quite like the way you think, my friend. That said, I see no reason why we ought not to follow your uncle's suggestion. At the very least, we are provided with an estate within which we can drive one another mad," Chester offers with a thoroughly delighted smile.

Looking around the group, he cannot help but feel that this will be all sorts of an exciting diversion, even if it does not come of anything. With a flick of his wrist, he summons his valet and gestures for the man to purchase another round of drinks for the lot of them. After all, he cannot simply let Aldric be the only one to display some proper Ustalav hospitality.

Jacob sours as his words are taken in a different direction than intended. "Impressive. You managed to deduce my implied course of action to eventually leave all household affairs to you two. First the cleaning, then a sandwich and eventually the children." If sarcasm was mist you couldn't see the table right now. "If your intellect is so stymied by such mundane conversation maybe you should stay here. You'd only slow us down."

Forgot my nobility rolls on the last post.
Knowledge(nobility) Aldric: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28
Knowledge(nobility) Chester: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (16) + 10 = 26
Knowledge(nobility) Jacob: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (14) + 10 = 24
Knowledge(nobility) Kiana: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (13) + 10 = 23
Knowledge(nobility) Marris: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (12) + 10 = 22

"Us...stay here?" Kiara responds, looking completely incredulous. "I think you should definitely take us along, you couldn't handle the task on your own, it would almost certainly be something you couldn't handle. A lone kobold maybe, or a goat with three legs".

Jacob smiles having gotten out of the woman. "An excellent retort. I assume that is a slight on my build. You are right of course. A kobold would likely run me through if it came to a physical standoff. But that would be difficult as he would be a pile of ash. I am a wizard and have many tricks up my sleeve...and in my bag." Oh that was going to be a fun reveal. One could survive in a pocket dimension for a small amount of time as it did hold air. But its current denizens did not need air, or food, or sleep, or anything that the living required. "Would you fair better against a three-legged goat? I think not."