Be it so known that the bearer of this charter has been charged by the Swordlords of Restov, acting upon the greater good and authority vested within them by the office of the Regent of the Dragonscale Throne, has granted the right of exploration and travel within the wilderness region known as the Greenbelt. Exploration should be limited to an area no further than thirty-six miles east and west and sixty miles south of Oleg’s Trading Post. The carrier of this charter should also strive against banditry and other unlawful behavior to be encountered. The punishment for unrepentant banditry remains, as always, execution by sword or rope. So witnessed on this 24th day of Calistril, under watchful eye of the Lordship of Restov and authority granted by Lord Noleski Surtova, current Regent of the Dragonscale Throne.
Lord Mayor Ioseph Sellemius shifts in his high backed chair and the creaking of the old chair snaps you out of your daze. You look up from this charter and suddenly you realize to where you are.
You are sitting in the Citadel, the home of Lord Mayor Ioseph Sellemius. You are currently sitting before the Lord Mayor as he has just told you that you will be sent to explore an expanse of land known as the Greenbelt, and handed you the charter allowing you to do this. In the name of the Regent of the Dragonscale Throne, Lord Noleski Surtova, of course. Lord Mayor Ioseph Sellemius is a Taldan man in his mid to late 50’s. His well kept raven-black hair is streaked with the gray of old age and the stress of ruling.
You look besides you and see another, the person that was told to wait along side you while the Lord Mayor was readying himself. You didn’t think until now that it would be important to speak to one another. “Surely what the Lord Mayor wants to meet about doesn’t involve him.” you thought incorrectly.
Clearing his throat; “What do you two say to this great honor? This privilege of exploring the greenbelt?”
Darivan, a tall, blond-haired human, listens in one of the chairs, twirling a small silver medallion in his left hand. He's not wearing any armor, but his position is easily recognizable as one that would be comfortable in fairly heavy armor, and a sword hangs at his waist.
"I do indeed accept. The Stolen Lands have for too long been the haven for banditry, and I gladly take this chance to purge evil from the lands." he agrees, skimming over the (mercifully short) charter once more.
Listening carefully, the tall, well-tone man with long fiery red hair, deep blue eyes, and some clearly elven features responded, "I accept as well."
His clothing looked rather new, not to mention a bit on the expensive side. As a matter of fact, everything did. However, the way he carried himself definitely indicated that he was far from a fop.
A smile forms across the Lord Mayor's face. "Excellent, I knew this would be a good selection." Waving his hand to the servant standing at the doors. "Marcus, if you would. We need to commemorate this with a toast!" He gestures towards a side table where there is a container of wine and a few goblets.
Marcus quietly comes over and pours the Lord Mayor's wine first, then services the two of you. He raises his goblet. "To exploration, expansion, and prosperity!" He takes a drink and sets down his goblet as he stands up. "The Stolen Lands is the first critical piece to our expansion. We have fought against bandits, tribes from Numeria and Iobaria, and even the wild of the River Kingdoms themselves have Stolen them from us!"
He slides open a drawer of his desk and pulls out a wooden box. Setting the box on the table, opening it to reveal two small leather pouches. "The success of our goal is tied up in what you do in the South. These pouches are not from the Sword Lords, or even Lord Surtova. I am personally invested in your exploration. Use these anyway you see fit to help you to get settled in the Stolen Lands, and at Oleg's trading post."
He slides the box towards the two of you as he sits down. "Now, unless there is anything else, the two of you have quite the journey ahead of you to reach Oleg's. You may want to prepare to leave at first light, giving you today to gather supplies."
Within the pouch you see 50 Platinum pieces.
"Thank you for your support, Lord Mayor. I won't let you down. I suppose we'll leave first thing in the morning."
Following introductions to his co-conscript, Darivan takes the chance to upgrade a bit of his gear before departing.
With a polite, and well practiced bow, Nerandeth replied, "I thank you for your generous gift. Rest assured that we will put it to good use."
As he was not in need of too much other gear, the Half-Elf decided to lighten his load a bit. Selling his standard rope, he then purchased a decent length of Silk Rope, which was much lighter. During his walk through the city, the Noble born came across an orphanage. Stepping inside, and speaking with the operator of the establishment, he then donated ten platinum so the children may not know hunger for some time.
“Marcus if you would, please show our guest out.” Lord Mayor turns his attention from you to papers on the his desk. Absentmindedly he takes the wooden box from the desk and puts it back in the desk drawer.
Marcus walks over and speaks up; “If you would...” he gestures for you to follow. It is silent as Marcus leads you through the Citadel, other than the sound of your boots hitting the pristine floor. Reaching the double doors Marcus opens them, gives you a slight smile and a nod, and shuts the door behind you.
Standing in the courtyard, besides you is a stranger who you have just been charged to explore the Stolen Lands with, before you is two men standing besides a wagon that is being drawn by two light horses. One who seems to be a butler walks towards Nerandeth and falls in line with him, all the while giving Darivan a questioning eye.
“Master Ildelaren, how did everything go with your meeting with Lord Mayor Sellemius?”
1. The Citadel Home to the Lord Mayor of Restov
2. The Temple of Erastil
3. The Aldori Wheel
4. The Coeurleon Livery
5. The Restov Grand Theatre.
6. The Dragon’s Head tavern
7. The Fifth Army Restaurant
8. Two Inn The Hand
9. The Matong
10. The Northern Schools.
11. Rogarvia House.
12. Ludivenko's Palace of Dance.
13. The Aldori Academy.
14. The Temple of Adabar.
15. Red Table Square.
16. Citymarket.
17. The Restov Baths.
18. Lowtown or Redburgh, depending on who you ask.
19. The Smokehouse
20. The Mountain's Toast.
21. The Iron Gauntlet Inn.
22. Restov Corn Exchange.
23. The Golden Flute Tavern
24. Oppin's Common House.
25. Scattered across Riverside are the more than three dozen Southern Sword Schools.
26. Marcus Magics.
27. The Pantiles.
28. Rostland Courts.
"Everything went perfectly Jarvis. We set out tomorrow at first light," Looking at the other servant, Nerandeth signaled for him to come over. Pulling out twenty platinum, the Half-Elf gave each servant ten, "Please ensure that have all that you will need for this venture. The Stolen Lands can be inhospitable."
Turning to his new compatriot, "I do not believe we have been formally introduced. I am Nerandeth Ildelaren of House Medvyed."
Darivan greets the ranger with a firm handshake, "Darivan Orlovsky, Herald of Dragons. What sort of man will I be fighting alongside? Are you a mage or swordsman?"
"Pleasure to meet you. A more accurate statement would be mage and bowman.
Jarvis, with a slight bow, continues. "Thanks you Master Ildelaren. I will make sure that we have what we might need for this expedition. I will also make sure that Marcus gets the proper equipment." He gives Marcus a sidelong look. "He is good with the blade, I just am not sure about his bargaining skills..."
"Regardless, as you were in your meeting I asked around with the aids who live in the Citadel what where to stay. If it pleases, Marcus and I will head over to the Two Inn The Hand. It seems like we should want a nice place to stay before this journey. Who knows how long it will be before a bath."
"We will head there and get the horses stabled for the night and get us checked in." looking towards Darivan, "How many rooms shall I request?"
Marcus, a gruff man in his middle age, walks around Nerandeth and Darivan looking Darivan over. He leans in close and speaks to Darivan. "Herald of dragons? Have ya seen dragons before? I've fought many a battles and have seen some of the strongest men on the line piss their pants when a dragon came around. There is a lot of things to be heraldin in the world, don't know if dragons would be one of them..."
Jarvis speaks up. "If that is all, we will head to the Two Inn The Hand after getting our supplies. Master Orlovsky, was it? I look forward to getting to know you." Jarvis and Marcus head towards the wagon and horses and begin to head out of the Citadel courtyard.
"That will be all Jarvis. Enjoy yourselves."
After the servants leave, he turned to Darivan, "Meet you at the Two Inn The Hand?"
"Yes, I have a bit of shopping to attend to, my old sword is getting a bit worn-down and I could really use some better armor. I shall meet you back at the inn tonight." he bows a farewell to the half-elf and sets off to find the local blacksmith.
Once there, he greets the smith, "Hello. Do you happen to have any breastplates in my size?"
One of the guards at the front of the Citadel overhears what you are looking for and speaks up as he clears his throat. "If you are looking for some armor or even some repairs and you don't mind going underground you can head over to Lowtown. Its the dwarven sector of the city. It runs three levels under ground and you'll have to duck a bit, but it is worth the effort."
The guard on the opposite side of the front doors speaks up. "That, or you could save yourself a bit of a back ache before heading off and just go over to the Citymarket. A wider selection of goods for your travels. Both are north west of the Red Table Square." They both fall silent once they share a bit of information.
Darivan nods in thanks, and heads off to Lowtown, figuring he may as well get something good, and not minding the walk.
The two of you begin making your way through the city. It is a busy morning and difficult traveling through the roads. In the back of your minds you are thankful that Jarvis and Marcus had taken the horses and wagon ahead to the Two Inn the Hand ahead of you. That would have made things difficult.
As you get to the center of the city you begin to hear the sounds of shouting and cheering. You take a few moments to head towards the sounds and you see two men, a half-orc and a human, standing on a red platform that is about 5-feet above the crowd. They are shirtless and wielding dueling swords.
You are unable to hear what is being said, but they quickly flick their blades to action and they are in a duel. The dance between the two swordsmen is... beautiful. It almost looks as if it is choreographed and this is a performance. That quickly changes as the half-orcs blade catches the other's leg. He stumbles for a moment and quickly parries what was going to be a killing blow. This is no dance, this is a duel...
As you continue to make your way around the square your eyes are focused on this fight, as is everyone's within the square. You are unsure of how long it takes you to make it across but suddenly you are brought back to reality when the human man pushes he sword through the middle of the half-orc, who falls onto the platform. Looking closely at the platform you quickly realize why it is called Red Table Square, it is because it is stained red from the blood of those who fall upon it.
As you continue on you make your way through the Citymarket. Vendors with all types of meats, fruits, vegetables, spices, etc... are all calling out the deals they have to offer on their products, which are the Freshest in town!. The sights, sounds, and aromas can be a bit overwhelming for anyone who might not be used to the city life. Everyone pulling for your attention, not that you need their goods but they seem to draw you in.
Then you finally make it to Lowtown. On the surface level you see dwarven stands and makeshift shops with your run of the mill metal worked goods. Things that your standard city goers would need. You also see these funny round pipes shooting out of the ground about two feet with smoke bellowing out of them, each one has a cap that would prevent rain or other objects from entering into them. You find yourself to the entry point into the lower levels of Lowtown, except the wooden sign above the entry point says Redburgh…
The wooden stairs descend into the earth. As you make your way you realize what the guard at the Citadel was talking about, this entryway and the tunnels they lead you to leave you hunched over for the entirety of your visit. The mud and stone walls are reinforced with wooden studs to form a support system that can hold the weight of the world back. As you get deeper and further way from the stairs you realize that it is getting dark in here. There are torches throughout the area, but you find yourself straining to see the words on the signs.
Even with the hindrance of the darkness for your eyes, your ears hear an awfully familiar ringing of steel upon steel. Following the sound through a few different tunnels you find yourself standing before a dwarf who is currently hammering out a piece of metal that looks like it will shaped into some type of armor.
Sweat glistens off of his arms and brow as the fires of his forge burns closely behind him. Setting his hammer down the dwarf grabs a waterskin and takes a long pull off of it. At that moment he realizes that he has an audience.
In a thick dwarven tongue, the dwarf says in common. “By th’ forges ay Torag! Don’t ye ken nae tae sneak upon a dwarf while he is workin’ his stel? Ye coods hae hud a ammer flung at ye!” He takes of his leather gloves and apron, wipes off the sweat of his brow with a rag and offers up a hand. “Barain Golka, smithy by trade. Whit ings ye tois doon intae Redburgh thes braw morn?” Looking you over he continues. “Ye tois cme don fur a guid blade, shield ur armur?”
Nerandeth lagged behind to better watch the duel. He'd seen several before among his house, but none were to the death. After the bloody spectacle, a merchant had caught his eye. Looking over the goods, he spied a length of silk rope. Pulling his regular rope from his pack, the Half-Elf bartered with the merchant until they settled on half price, afterwards the Noble bought the silk rope.
Wandering for a bit more, he came upon an orphanage and decided to take a step inside.
Darivan nods in greeting, "Good day, sir. I'm looking for both blade and armor, actually. My current sword is a bit worn at this point, do you have any folded steel longswords?" he looks around the room, "Also, I wouldn't mind getting a breastplate, do you buy used armor? It's in pretty good condition, I've only had it for a few years." he asks, indicating his scaled mail shirt. He frowns, and uses a corner of his sleeve to rub a dirt spot from his shoulder, then nods.
“Orphanage… what do you want with a place like that?” the merchant says as he is coiling up the rope he received in the trade. “I suppose that’s none of my business. So south to the Riverside, take the middle bridge and keep on the road till you hit the south wall. It will be the building on the corner to your right. Best of luck to ya. And if you need anything else you know where to find me. I have all the travel supplies you could need!”
Nerandeth makes his way south on the main road. Upon reaching the bridge at the river he can feel the cool wind pickup and Nerandeth pulls his cloak tighter around himself. As you enter into Riverside you begin to see many men and women who are in different types of armor, carrying different styles of weapons, and even those who look like they could handle themselves without either. You have entered into the area known for its schools of specialties.
Continuing onto the path that the merchant told you about you eventually hit the southern wall and see the corner building that has the looks of an orphanage upon it. Kids of all ages running about and a few hands trying to corral them all. As Nerandeth enters the three story tall building, a smell of dust, mildew, and people who need baths overwhelm you. An older gentleman sitting at a desk near the entryway pulls down his classes as he sees you enter.
As he stands up the gentleman shuts ledger book he was working in and makes his way towards you. “Welcome!” he says with a flourish of a bow. I am brother Andrew, the keeper of the youth. “What brings you to the Erastil Bud’s Orphanage?”
Barain moves forward and reaches his hand out to touch your armor. “Humm,lit me see whit yoo got thaur. Scaled mail ye say? Yeah, we can wark it a trade. Ah hae soom types ah can shaw ye… if ye hae th’ coin.” Barain moves back behind his worktable and opens up a large but squat wooden closet. He pulls out three different Breastplates and unstacks them from within each other.
“Ah forged each ay these myself. Thes first is a regular breastplate. Thes next is ay bit higher quality. Ye can see frae th’ straps an’ mesh within ‘at it allows ye a bit mair movement.” The third set he pulls out is wrapped up safely within a cloth that looks as soft as velvet. Barain unwraps the breastplate to reveal an armor the seems to collect all of the light in the room and make it brighter. “Thes haur is gart frae mithral mined frae th’ Fife King Moontains by mah ancestors.”
Motioning for you to examine the three Breastplates he moves to the side and says. “hile ye swatch, lit me see ‘at blade ay yoors.” If you hand him your blade he begins to inspect it.
Darivan unbuckles his sword from his belt and hands it to the dwarf while inspecting the armor, "While I would love full Mithral armor, I am unfortunately not made of money, and I believe the regular breastplate is all I can afford, after getting a new sword at least." he laments, and prepares to remove his current armor, "May I try it on?" he asks.
Nerandeth reached into his pouch and pulled out ten Platinum pieces. Placing them on the man's desk, the simply stated, "I would like to make a donation for the children."
Brother Andrew gives a slight bow as he moves his hand to pick up the coin. “Good sir, you must know what every little bit that is given to Erastil Bu…” as his eyes finally fall upon what you have given his voice leaves him but his mouth is still moving. He looks up and meets you eye to eye as he picks up the coins and places them into a pouch. “This… this… is such a generous donation.”
Brother Andrew rounds the table and offers you his hand in thanks. “Please, come with me. I want to show you something.” he places his hand on your back as he begins moving forward, prompting you to do the same. As you walk through the halls you see open doors into bedrooms with two, three, and even four bunkbeds crammed into each one. “You must meet the children that you are helping. These are children left behind when sickness takes the parents, or they have gone off to war and never came back, and even a few that have been born due to the victory celebrations of battle. Some are wanted but left behind, some are unwanted and forgotten.”
Brother Andrew leads you around the halls and stair wells to see the multitude of children within. Then you finally make it to a large common room with tables and chairs that is overflowing with the children. “Please, it is lunch time and you should join us.”
He leads you through the line and the children are looking up to you with hope in their eyes. Your clothing speaks to them as if you are a noble, your weapons make you seem an adventurer. Are you a noble coming to hire/buy a new batch of house servants, or an adventurer needing a squire as you depart?
Brother Andrew picks up a plate that has a bowl on it. He passes it to you. You look in and see the bowl contains soup, if you could call it that. What is within is a watered down broth with a meager amount of vegetables and noodles in it. You also have a small slice of bread that is toasted… stale… you’re unsure.
He leads you to a table with what appears to be the older children and gestures for you to sit at an open stool. “Please sit. I am intrigued to learn more about you master….” he trails off as he realizes he was caught up in the overwhelming gift and the urge to show you the facilities. “I beg your pardon, I must have missed your name…”
Barain waves his hand as he continues to look over the blade. “Gang aheid son, try it oan. Ah can make minur adjustments tae th’ armur tae make it fit better.” He checks the balance of the blade, which is balanced well enough but he pulls out a dagger from his belt and begins to cut the leather free from the hilt. He checks the balance again, and it seems perfect. “Thes is a guid blade, jist needs some minur wark.”
Setting your blade on his workbench he moves to help you try on the armor. It is rather awkward to take off the scaled mail and put on a breast plate when you are hunched over. After a few moments of struggling you are able to get the armor equipped. “Thaur ye gang, jist puckle changes an’ she woods be a perfect fit.”
He begins to look over the scaled mail as you are getting situated with the breast plate. “Afair we gie doon tae final totals, ye need tae ken ‘at if ye gang wi’ th’ regular breastplate it woods be 175 gauld wi’ yer armor. If ye went wi’ th’ higher quality one it woods be 300 gauld wi’ yer armur. Ah will gie ye a bit ay a beter deal if ye spend mair gauld”
He places his hand on your longsword once again. “Noo abit thes blade. Ah believe wi’ a bit ay wark ah can gie thes auld blade back tae itself agan.” looking between you and the sword. “This was given tae ye reit? By someain tha knoo thir way around th’ sword? Thes blade has th’ markings ay one fa been his life has saved an’ killed mony wi’ thes at his hain.” Picking up the blade. “Wa don’t ye lae this wi’ me an’ come back in th’ morn bricht an’ early. Lit me wark oan it a bit.”
Doritan nods in thanks, moving in his armor to get a feel for it, "I'll take the regular one, thanks. I'm afraid I can't afford much more." he runs his hand over his sword, "You think you can restore it? That would be amazing. My mentor gave it to me about a decade ago, and it's saved my life many times. I've had it taken to my local smiths- I'm from up north- but they said it wasn't feasible without magic. If you could bring it back to new, I would be most appreciative. I was going to hold onto it as a keepsake, but I would love to keep using it." he muses, then pulls out his money pouch, "So, first thing in the morning, then? You can have it ready that fast? How much will the restoration cost?"
Barain nods in approval; "Th' standard breastplate it is. 175 gauld sairr. first hin' in th' morn an' she will be dain. See ye 'en!"
"Nerandeth Ildelaren of House Medvyed, pleasure. What is it you wish to know?"
Brother Andrew uses his spoon to stir in the bits of bread into his soup. At the mention of House Medvyed his eye brows slowly raise. “House Medvyed? Oh, how I used to enjoy reading on the history of the political ties. Marriages, betrayals, wars, the never ending desire for more territory. Lucky for House Medvyed, they have natural protection in the form of the woods and the mountains. Well, that is unless the giants come down wanting to leave their domain…” with a laugh and a wave of a hand he continues. “oh but I am sure you know better than to believe stories like that…”
The meal goes on with basic small talk and even some of the children asking about your adventures and exploits. Some even are amazed in wonder at the fact that you are of a noble house and that you would come here to this little hole in the wall of an orphanage.
Once lunch is over, Brother Andrew leads you back to the front entrance. This time it’s a much quicker route. “Master Ildelaren, the orphanage is forever indebted to you and your generosity. Please, if there is anything I can do… just ask. Is your house in need of good servants or stable hands? Though you don’t have the look of a typical knight, are you in need of a squire?”
Brother Andrew stands at the entrance holding a hand out in thanks. “Thank you once again for your generosity. The impact will last for years to come.”
Darivan makes his way back through the tunnel, remembering to keep his head low. Making his way through this times seems a bit tougher because of the stiffness of the breastplate. Scaled Mail was much simpler and not so clunky… then again it will keep you better protected.
As you continue through the tunnel towards the exit you hear the sounds of steel on steel picking back up as Barain starts working on the sword. The Ting, Ting, Ting, Ting begins to get quieter as you round a few corners and find daylight pouring down into the entry stairwell.
Emerging from the darkness of Redburgh your quickly realize that your eyes had adjusted to the lack of light and you are almost blinded as the sun hits you straight on. Once your eyes clear another of your senses takes over as you smell food. Your stomach grumbles and you think to yourself It has been a long morning since breakfast.
Darivan adjusts his collar where the metal of the breastplate touched his neck. Outside of the smithy, and aboveground especially, the day felt especially chilly, and he adjusts his cloak to cover more of him.
He looks around, blinking to adjust to the new light, and turns to identify where the food he's smelling is coming from. Noticing what appears to be a pub down the street a little way, he pauses for a minute to look at the sign- The Golden Bow, the sign declares, with a stylized longbow serving as the "B," and pushes the door open, letting a draft of cold air in as he enters and serving to draw the attention of the half-dozen patrons getting lunch.
As he finds a seat near the hearth, the serving girl finds her way over to his table to get his order.
"Is that venison on the spit?" he asks in return, and when she nods, "I'll have a serving of that, and do you have any spiced teas? Thank you, miss." he hands her a couple of copper, and leans back while waiting for his food, grinning in amusement at the turnspit running in its wheel.
Nerandeth tried to entertain the children with stories as best he could, but it was difficult to do since most involved hunting, and that gets boring after a bit.
"All I ask is that you care for these children. Erastil's teachings tell us that Community is everything, and children are the root of any Community." With a polite bow, the Half-Elf turned and headed for the Temple of Erastil.