GMEuan's War for the Crown

Game Master Euan

The Grand Day of Exaltation, with its Exaltation Gala, is a few days away, but you arrived early in Oppara (or perhaps never left!). You have been invited to a party hosted by someone calling themselves Lord Petnik Miragella this very evening (Calistril 26th, 4718, a Moonday). His name doesn’t tumble from the lips, but you think you’ve heard of him before somewhere. Certainly his invitation is promising; heavy cream paper, smooth ink, nice calligraphy, light scent… fancy - and expensive.

Obviously each Gather Information takes d4 hours, but as you have ~10 hours before the evening party, you can spend it researching easily enough if you wish. You may also roll both the knowledge check and the gather information check (if you have the appropriate skills) - the first for knowledge you may already possess and the second for research you may be doing. So you have two or more bites at each apple if you spend/have the time.

Let me know what you plan to do with your day (or the rest of your day if you gathered info), prior to the party. Remember, you still don’t know each other, and won’t quite yet. That said, no need for spoilers unless you prefer it, though I’ll be doing some for ease of reading. Oh, for those of you without complete characters, just estimate your likely skill points as best you can.

Knowledge Nobility: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16
Knowledge Local: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13
Gather Information: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (5) + 11 = 161d4 ⇒ 2

Kamari traces the calligraphy with her finger floating just above the lines, careful not to smear the fine work of another artist. "Miragella," she whispers to herself. "I know them, but Petnik Miragella..." She shakes her head. She turns to ask the messenger a question only to find nothing but empty space.

Kamari downs the last of her morning coffee and pops the last bit of bread in her mouth before standing. She tosses down a few coins and nods toward the cafe owner to be sure he sees them. She knows she could wait here for others to wander in and probably learn more from them, but something about the note has filled her with excitement and curiosity. She grabs her satchel and heads for the docks.

After a couple hours of wandering and schmoozing and slapping away several lascivious dockworkers' hands--except for the one with those dark eyes-- Kamari feels she's learned all she can. Knowing that she and Lord Petnik have something in common only increases her curiosity and she can't help but find herself loitering outside the location for tonight's festivities. She takes note of the activity surround the preparations and who has been employed. "He better be using some local merchants. If he has any taste, he'll get some truffles and other sweets from Ms. Starlea."

After her usual afternoon nap, Kamari starts to get ready for the evening. She pares down her satchel to only its essential items before starting on her hair. It's difficult to do the braids on her own, but her nimble hands have had much practice. She chooses a style that is sure to accentuate her ears and leave no doubt as to her heritage. She dresses as well as she can. There are no ballgowns in her closet, but she does have a nice skirt and blouse from that time she was invited to a dinner at the university. She's just finishing as her father walks in the door. He stops and stares before calmly saying, "Not your usual night tonight is it?"

"No Daddy, it's not. I'll tell you all about it in the morning. Don't wait up." And with a peck on his cheek she skips out the door with a grin.

1d20 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8 Know (nobility)
1d20 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 8 = 11 Know (Local)

K'Aldrian thwaps the nicely scented a formal invitation against his hand and wrist, a nervous tic while he debates what to do. He had recently arrived in Oppara for The Grand Day of Exaltation, an event he had been looking forward to for a long time.

*Thwap!* *Thwap!* *Thwap!*

He reads the invitation again, and again cannot place the Miragella family name, nor their relations within the Empire. He had been too long away from Oppara, too far away and too busy with his own career and study to care much for the detail of the families that make up Opparan nobility, and so he has little to go on here.

*Thwap!* *Thwap!* *Thwap!*

He debates reaching out to some of his military contacts here in the city. As a retired officer, they may or may not be willing to help with the information, but he little desire to bother them, lest he be seen as an old has-been meddler with too much time on his hands.

Part of that *is* true, you do have too much time on your hands, Old Man.

He lays down the invitation and recognizes that he'll be walking into the affair blindly. He picks up a book, From Bulettes to Owlbears: No, don't climb there!, and begins to thumb through the pages. This book was a cheap buy, third or fourthhand, but would give him time to relax before he made his way to the party.

He puts his feet up on the desk and enjoys his afternoon. His well polished parade armor lies ready to be donned, along with his well-polished military boots.

Nobility: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (12) + 9 = 21
Local: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19

The messenger finds him in Memorial Park. He sits before an easel, a much-used palette poised on his left hand. The canvas depicts a nearby group of sailors basking in the sun.

Craft: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 8 = 12

"Milord Basri? Anselm Basri? I've been looking for you. Got something I'm supposed to deliver - your hands only."

He smiles and pulls out a coin for the lad. "What do you think of the painting? It's rubbish, isn't it? Be honest now. We're called to nurture beauty in the world, but the Eternal Rose really just wants us to do our best."

The messenger looks at the canvas and sizes up the young nobleman. He decides the request for honesty is true.

"Seems a bit serious, if you don't mind me saying so, milord. Lookie, they're grapplin' with each other 'n' deep in the cups. Your picture's nice 'n' all but seems like you're holdin' somethin' back."

Anselm smiles. It's so nice to be back here. Every man, woman, and child has words for beauty. He says, "Right you are. Good eye. Thanks." He produces another coin and bids the messenger good day.

. . . . . . . . . .

"Petnik Miragella, you say? Well, he's trouble, no doubt. Lady Gerania says he's been associating with low folk. I saw him a few weeks ago and he looked a mess. Still, they've more than enough coin to throw a thrilling soiree. Won't you bring me with you, brother?"

Anselm's young sister consumes gossip even more voraciously than the latest fashions. He's tried to convince her such obsessions are foolish, with little success. "Soon, Adelaide. You haven't made your debut yet. And remember kindness when Lady Gerania is telling her tales. A person's worth resides in their soul, not cruel rumors of the court. That includes you." He gives her cheek a kiss and goes to dress himself.

The polished brass mirror reflects back a face that few have called handsome. A bit uneven in measure, if clear-skinned. Not the strongest chin, nor the straightest nose. But amiable enough.

The lads he met up in the Verduran Forest liked him for other things. He eschewed those who flattered him, interested only in his position. The ones who answered his questions honestly, like the messenger today—they liked him for the depth of his gaze. He tries to draw others out—to find the beauty inside. But, to be fair, he does appreciate outer beauty. His mind wanders back to the sailors.

He does his best to scrub the paint stains off his hands, to no avail. Putting on his red bowed, purple suede shoes, he descends to courtyard and calls for the coach.

knowledge nobility: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (12) + 10 = 22

Madella lets the invitation linger on the tray until she is certain.
”Not poisoned. That’s a plus.” Safety assured, at least for the moment, she picks up the card, turning her seasoned gaze upon its quality contents.

”Mira...gella...Miragell...a, where do we know that from, hmm, Cuddles?” she ticks this quills of the diminutive pet while she considers the name and where she may have heard it before.

“Oh yes, I remember the Miragella’s. They had business with the old lord a score or so ago, though what was it… what...was… it? Never mind, likely as not, that Miragella is long gone, and this is some new son, looking to take Oppara by storm. Though why an invitation for us, hmm, Cuddles? Perhaps our efforts are to be rewarded after all.”

She lets her mind wander through the past while she prepares for the evening, weighing each choice in turn, until there is only one left.

”Oh, I could never leave you here alone, my pet. Besides, I hear it is just the thing this Season."

He had to admit, he was starting to enjoy the morning constitutionals. The cliff-side strolls, the sheer size of the Grand Bridge... it was certainly everything he remembered as a child. Exchanging the smells of the countryside for city airs was a bit of a jolt at first, but memory has a way of putting things in their places. His rabbit run from Aroden's View around Worldbreaker, then through Senate's Hill was more for Underfoot's benefit than his own. She needed to find her peace with the city, too.

Returning to the Manor, Muri's mouth begins to salivate. Through the front doors, along the common hallway, he finds the kitchen staff anticipating his dawn's visit. With open hands, he gladly accepts the silver bowls, one for him, and one for her. Without losing a step, he finds the stones of the central courtyard still wet from the morning dew. Setting down Underfoot's bowl, his free hand finds her scruff, and he gives her a good scritching before he gives her the space to enjoy her meal, unmolested.

When he comes to the last bits of his breakfast, sopping up the yolk runs with the smaller bits of rye, he cocks an ear to the new arrival to the courtyard. Old Raff, standing with a silver tray, bent at the waist to demonstrate the fancy letter resting upon it.

Muri raises his hands, and wiggles his fingers to demonstrate their state of messiness, crumbs and yellow touching each fingertip. Old Raff nods, plucking the letter, and cracking the wax. Muri doesn't interrupt him out of courtesy, which also gives him time to finish his bowl, and dig a couple of rye seeds out from between his teeth.

"Miragella, you say?"

Knowledge(Nobility) v DC 13: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14

"That's weird. Wouldn't you say that's weird, Raff? I think that's weird." Old Raff shrugs his shoulders, causing bones to pop, but he says nothing in response.

Knowledge(Local) v DC 16: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27

"Petnik, though. That name certainly rings of something familiar. Much appreciated, Raff. Would you mind setting that on my desk, when you get a chance? I'll run the bowls back, and clean up a bit." Muri does his best not to ramble about what he recalls of the half-elf to his old butler, so dismisses the man to his day, while he plans his own.

When it's obvious that Underfoot is done with her bowl, he collects it, and returns them both to the kitchen, where he finds some waste water to dunk his paws.

The invitation is where he expected to find it, so he sets his own eyes upon the writing, marking it again for the time and the location. For the fogginess of time these days in Oppara, he's glad to have something to look forward to. He's also sure his cousin will gladden to see him engage in a formal affair here and there, while he's in town.

For the relaxed rest of the day, Muri will find the time to unwrinklify his well-to-do garb, as well as see to a good detangling of Underfoot's undercoat. Won't do to show up looking less than the best...

(Oh, so it’s to be that sort of campaign is it? Brilliant posts all!)

The party is held in a sprawling villa just outside Oppara proper - south and a bit west, across the Grand Bridge of the Empire, along the slow flowing Porthmos River - about a twenty minute walk. As you join the throng passing through the early rye fields leading to the estate in the damp late Calistril air, you realize half of Oppara seems to have been invited to the festivities! You see commoners mixing with aristocrats as they all walk together toward the estate (well, near each other anyway). The flow of diverse people (many of whom are not human) is funneled through the main arch and into the gardens on the west side of the villa - facing the river. You watch the sun as it begins to settle toward the horizon even as a waiter smoothly shoves a fine Opparan sparkling wine in your hand and another offers a tray filled with various canapé.

The smell of boxwood bushes is strong as you look around, seeing nearly a half a dozen temporary ‘bars’ on the grounds around which staff and guests alike swirl. Drink is mostly local fine wine varieties, several ales, and even a mead for good measure. Wonderful smelling food is laid out on large tables scattered throughout the garden and are replenished quickly. They contain everything from delicate fish eggs and stuffed olives to rather more substantial meat-filled sandwiches - a favorite of some of the larger bodyguards in attendance.

The main house is partly off limits, aside from the modern, and magical, chamber-pot rooms and a few other areas on the ground floor. Wandering briefly through as you pass to the main garden, you’ll find a billiards room; a game room, which includes a miniature castle siege complete with working catapults, heavy lead shot, and other miniatures; as well as a grand ballroom where a large group of colorful people are in fact dancing joyously to a lively string quintet.

There even seems to be a juggler, a little crusty around the edges in both appearance and odor, wandering the grounds entertaining the simpler folk. The capstone however has to be the extremely modern hot air balloon. Tethered to a tower, and seemingly partly magical, or at least mythical, it climbs and falls on the cool evening breezes as it takes thrill-riders up into the heavens - higher than most have ever been! Why you imagine you could see for miles from up there.

The party seems to swirl a bit as a lightly perfumed tall half elf (image), impeccably dressed in the latest high fashion, swims strongly through the current of party goers from the house. He reaches the main gardens and stops, putting a hand dramatically to his mouth and then his forehead, exclaiming over the general din, ”My word! What a glorious sunset! Everyone, look! Look! Truly Sarenrae is blessing our gathering!” He doesn’t shout, exactly, but his voice seems to carry to every corner of the manse none the less. There’s a quiet pause as everyone turns, takes a communal breath, and admires the work of the gods (image). As if on cue, torches and lanterns are lit throughout the grounds giving the party a dance of light all its own in the approaching twilight.

”That’s Lord Petnik Miragella” you overhear someone nearby mention with a certain amount of admiration in their voice. The Lord moves easily back through the crowd, greeting some and smiling at others, as he makes his way slowly back to the house.

Please provide your description and interact with the festivities, in your own way, when you’re ready. Don’t feel obligated to speak with, or even acknowledge, other party members for now. It’s a large party, so you might not even see each other at this point (though you may if you wish). I’ll get you together shortly however.

Please also treat this as two social rounds (link, go to tab six) and remember to role-play it out. You may each make rolls to ‘influence the area’ (knowledge local/history/nobility DC 15 to tell a story or perform DC 13 to, well, perform). You may also ‘discover’ Lord Petnik (knowledge local DC 16 to learn his influence or knowledge nobility DC 15 to learn his weakness). You might already know his influences from your knowledge/gather information earlier in the day.

You can do ‘influence area’ actions multiple times, either because of an earlier failure, or simply to improve your influence. You add to your total at the rate of one point per point over the DC. Once you have reached both thresholds, further influence checks aren’t useful. There are typically two thresholds (in this case 10pts and 15pts).

Discovery checks have only one threshold - success and failure, so once you learn his weakness and influences - you’re done with Lord Petnik for now. You do not have the opportunity yet to talk to Lord Petnik personally as he is currently surrounded by sycophants. Obviously please role play it out and feel free to ask questions about the social round rules.

Last note. Normally these rolls are ‘shared’, in that individuals can share information they learn (and are assumed to do so within the group). So once one of you learns how to influence Lord Petnik for example, you’d all know. However as you don’t know each other yet, for this introductory party, all results are assumed to be individual successes for now. You may of course share, or even sell, that information through role play if you wish.

K'Aldrian knows how long it will take him to dress, and then again how long it will take to walk to the party. He worked logistics for the First Army of Taldan Defense for some 30+ years, so yeah, he figures he can figure how to get to a damn party on time.

He did want to finish his book, a treatise on the mating patterns of Girallon called Fists in the Mist Missed, but there wasn't quite time to both get ready and finish the book.

It was going to be an easy choice, he was not going to be late. He was never late. It's not how he was raised and trained. Not late.

And so he got ready. His parade armor donned, his polished boots donned, his walking cane ready to bear his weight as he walked. He was no longer young, but could still walk. He's always walked, and he would walk tonight to the party and not offer a single complaint about it. He was so old yet that he would beg for a rest. No, not yet.

* * *

K'Aldrian seems much less concerned when he sees the wide variety of people invited to the soiree. He had been worried, only slightly so, that he was walking into enemy territory or a pitched battle with too little intelligence, knowing too little of his potential enemies. Though it would be unlikely that he would have enemies in Oppara, he suppressed even that little fear as the size of crowd reveals itself. No, he was rarely stationed and too unimportant to have any real enemies...on this side of Qadiran border at least.

He walks still legged up to the party, following every path and not taking any short cuts. The last thing he needs is to trip on something in the dark, not that it was likely, but it would be unseemly. Besides, he had time and patience to get there by his leisure.

He smiles and greets people stiffly, knowing so few, and mostly pausing to nod at any military who either need saluting or nodding at any who recognize his rank. He does not expect it, being retired, but has been trained always to acknowledge it when it happens. It's the way things have always been, it seems.

He moves through the finger foods area, picking up food that can easily be eaten and not likely to make a mess as he wanders about. When he comes to the miniature castle, he stops and smiles. He recognizes the battle for the most part, but also knows where the set up is just...wrong. He looks on for a bit before shaking his head and going to fix things.

1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29 Know (History)

"That's not how it was! Don't you see? This is the 4th Battle at Lionsguard, in the summer of '93. I know, I was there. But this...this is all wrong," K'Aldrian begins to reset the battle, this time putting the miniatures in their proper spots, correcting what may have been errors by children or adults, but clearly wrong.

"You see? You don't put the cavalry in the middle of your offensive! No no no! They go on the outside, to sweep in and crush from the side, and you certainly don't leave your archers unprotected..." K'Al begins to move pieces around, often switching pieces from the Taldan and Qadiran sides when they fit the actual battle better.

"...and finally, on the fourth night, the Qadirans fled back to their sand caves, broken and beaten for they could not take Lionsgard! Oh no! And then we sallied forth to chase them back. Ha! That was a battle, I tell you." K'Aldrian might have been talking to anyone nearby, wandering by, or himself, but he is very clear about exactly what happened.

I like to think K'Aldrian just influenced this area a bit.

Muri enjoys the fluid dynamics of the crowd crossing the Grand Bridge. The long striders are more interesting to watch from their backsides, as they rarely look over their shoulders to engage in eye contact. The first half of the Bridge's arc, Muri spends more time nervously looking down on the waters so far below, less on his fellow guests. The second half, the well-appointed halfling purposefully shifts his attention to passersby, especially in their reactions, or lack thereof, to a dog headed in the same direction.

Some of them startle in delight as something furry tickles their errant hands, while others flinch in revulsion as mongrel fur potentially graces them with fleas. Muri makes it a point of smiling proudly when the former occurs, and frowning deeply when the latter occurs. His face is a bit tired by the time his slower herd finishes traversing the Bridge, but that's what games are for. He can hear the distant peal of Oppara's bells, and he begins to anticipate the festivities awaiting them all. He smooths out his royal blue cloak and suit, as the grounds before him level out. The gold brooch is a bit heavy, but Mircene insisted, and Muri couldn't say no to his favorite cousin.

Muri marks the grounds for places Underfoot is surely not allowed, while casing the food platters, leaning into the sea foods, primarily. The freshness will be something he'll miss, when he eventually heads back north, but nothing is preventing him from enjoying the moment. The good fortune of the invitation was surely facilitating it!

Social Round 1

The halfling finds the first part of his evening socializing among the grazers. He chats as easily with the attendees as the staff, inquiring as to possible reasons for their own invitations, as well as their excitement for the rest of the evening. In exchange, Muri slips into the moments when folks' mouths are full to regale them with his childhood stories of Oppara, wondering where various noble house members must be now, aged another ten years. Ne'er a disparaging word, always relating the victors of footraces, the winners of school debates, or the most promising politicians, which never include Muri's own name in the speculation.

Knowledge(Nobility) v DC 15: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (17) + 8 = 25

Social Round 2

When word begins to buzz about a balloon, it's only a matter of time before Muri wants to set eyes on it himself. He wends his way through the clusters of guests, alighting upon a small set of stairs to gain vantage to the rise and fall of the hot air balloon. He watches those daring enough to enter the basket and ascend, and marks each of the eggs that come tumbling from it. He hopes he can crack them up with tales of nobility just as brave as they to participate in such thrilling activities, so that he may see through their eyes. "And to think! How many of us can say that we reached such heights? You now rank with the bloodlines of dragons!! You can clink mugs with the explorers of House Corcina!! You share insights with the powerful flying mages of Lotheed, or Merrosett!!"

He shudders to think of the ride, personally, but a vicarious thrill is easy, and much, much safer.

Knowledge(Nobility) v DC 15: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (20) + 8 = 28

”Wow!” Kamari bubbles with excitement as she weaves among the crowd. Spotting a friend, she dashes to his side. “Look! Just look at this riot of races and classes and and and…This is Taldor! All of Taldor! I’ve told you it was possible.”

Grabbing an offered glass of sparkling wine, Kamari continues her zigzagging pattern through the crowd. She sips and smiles and slows just enough to admonish others to look around. Her rumbling stomach reminds her that she had skipped lunch intentionally so she pauses with a twirl in front of a well dressed waiter. ”Good day, sir! Thank you!” She exchanges her empty glass for a favorite canape and one she’s never seen before.

Before she can enjoy her late lunch her eyes catch upon the balloon ascending into the sky. When her sharp eyes see people in the balloon’s basket her meandering path turns into a plumb line to the landing area. She dashes ahead sliding to a stop at the back of the line. ”Magnificent!” She turns to those waiting in line. ”Do you see them? Do you?” She tilts her head to the sky. ”I see a man and an elf and, I think, a halfling. Might be a dwarf though. They are rising, rising above it all, together.”

Kamari continues speaking with her captive audience reluctant to give up their spot in line. With words she invites them to see the world of which she dreams. ”Tonight doesn’t have to end tonight.”
Social round 1 perform oratory: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17

When her turn finally comes, Kamari has to restrain herself from leaping into the empty basket. She steps in with her fellow passengers and grows incredibly quiet as the balloon ascends. She looks out over Oppara on the horizon and lets a tear work its way down her cheek. Beautiful!

At first the balloon descends far too quickly for Kamari, but then she notices the myriad other diversions below and squeezes close to the gate to be the first off. She walks quickly—not running—off the platform and nods at a halfling and his dog. ”Enjoy!”

Buoyed by her success at the balloon line, Kamari looks about for someone she might know, someone with the power to make decisions, who might not normally be open to hearing from her. Unfortunately for her, even with her keen eyes she is unable to find the right person. Oh well. I might as well enjoy the party. I'm sure the opportunity will present itself at some point.
Social Round 2 knowledge nobility: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13

He walks quietly along with the throng, joy in his eyes.

Wandering the grounds, he spots his cousin, Lady Annabeth Zespire, dressed in rather smart-looking coat and trousers. As is her wont. She's batting away suitors while her true love stands behind her — Katrin, her 'handmaid' and a brilliant artist.

Nearby, a jolly Osirian man serves up a delicious roast lamb folded inside flatbread. Anselm orders one, beaming childlike anticipation at the chef. "Oh, it's delicious. Would you tell me where you learned to cook this well?" He orders three more while listening intently to the man's story.

"Cousin," he says, turning to Annabeth and giving her a kiss on the cheek. "You must try this. You as well, Katrin. I was just having a delightful chat with Kuphet here about spices. Kuphet, you're a truer artist than I could ever be."

He draws Annabeth, her well-heeled suitors, and Katrin over to Kuphet's counter and gives an account of the chef's story. When one of the young gentlemen scoffs, he draws him out. "Devian, isn't it? Tell me of the food that made you giddy as a lad."

And so it goes: Anselm drawing out his audience as though they were the performers, helping them connect their stories to each other.

Perform (Oratory): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (13) + 10 = 23

. . . . . . . .

Later, Anselm finds himself at the hot air balloon. He gives a friendly wink at a jolly halfling sitting nearby while he waits patiently in line. More than once, he lets a child or hard-working grandmother go ahead of him, clearly as pleased by their excitement as the thought of his own ascent.

When he finally makes it into the large basket, he gives a nod to the red-haired half-elf next to him. "I've never been higher than Aroden's View. Maybe we'll top that tonight, eh?" When they do rise that high and more, he asks his fellow passengers where they live, and works with them to point out their homes.

Knowledge (Local): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24

The descent is a bittersweet moment. To be so high above the fray ought not be a privilege given by the aristocracy.

Mallë-o i Otos Elen dons her noble's outfit, a simple flowing gown in muted gold with minimal forest green accents matching her simple flats. She adds a sheer silk scarf that she pins in place with a transparent crystal brooch and set out for the party.

She regards the Exodus of Oppara curiously, marvelling at its diverse representatives. What is Miragella trying to prove?

She moves on through the main garden, appreciating the boxwoods and rising scent of the blooming honeysuckles and salvias. She takes a detour through the rose garden walkway enjoying the burst of color and fragrance before making her way toward the main festivities.

She avoids the crusty juggler completely as well as the game room, but regards the billiards room curiously.

Do I remember how to play? It was so much fun! She moves on into the dance hall, and its 'lively string quartet'.

Not being able to help herself, she spontaneously breaks out into a dance routine she choreographed for the ballet "Lovely", adding her own special nuances.

Dancing: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (17) + 10 = 27 Finishing, having broken out slightly into a sweat, she briefly retreats to the magical chamber-pot room to freshen up before moving back to the main gathering.

She helps herself to a wine spritzer before moving on to the caviar. This is a nice spread.

The party seems to swirl a bit as a lightly perfumed tall half elf (image), impeccably dressed in the latest high fashion, swims strongly through the current of party goers from the house. He reaches the main gardens and stops, putting a hand dramatically to his mouth and then his forehead, exclaiming over the general din, ”My word! What a glorious sunset! Everyone, look! Look! Truly Sarenrae is blessing our gathering!”

She gasps trying to conceal a bit of sarcasm as she looks upon the gods' work "It is as if a far far away star exploded! Who could ever regret? It's impossibly beautiful! Who could ever consider leaving a fine chalet like this with all it has to offer? Even Shelyn would be impressed."

KnowNobilityDC15: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12 Weakness?

"Enjoy!”

Muri's eyes brighten as the red-head-half-elf bounces by. He pulls a respectful nod on the brim of his hat, careful to avoid the feather. That's just enough time to avoid admitting that he's quite comfortable to keep feet anchored on solid ground.

The halfling-dandy-for-a-day marks the Miragella affair to have skewed more pleasantly, less obligatorily. Once for the kind word, then twice for a kind man's wink. Oppara's changed. Or maybe I have. Was I looking for it, before? The airs of the nobles? My coin keeps coming up 'head', haven't been bumped more than once... This evening will satisfy Mircene for at least three days of my stay...

Content with his time at the balloon boarding station, Muri and Underfoot decide that a familiar pair of bellies is in need of refilling, so they return to the garden and the large tables, burdened by too much food. Until a new reverie comes to light, Muri and Underfoot engage in a relaxed pace of You, Me, or We. He's well versed in farm food, knowing exactly what the sheepdog will decline, but here, there's so many unknown nuggets to put to the test.

Braised beef, definitely a We.
Caramelized brussel sprouts, unsurprisingly a Me.
Smoked salmon canapés, almost an Ew, but two sniffs is enough to tip to You.

For the bite sizes of several of the entries, the game continues down the length of each and every serving table.

K'Aldrian pushes himself onto his knees, having set the final mini into place finishing off a decent recreation of that battle so long ago. He's mostly sure he has the gist of it, but it was over 20 years ago and, well, some details might be slightly wrong. But he was satisfied, though the kneeling to do the work was beginning to hurt.

Pushing himself to his feet with the help of his cane, he goes to see what else might be seen in the party. Mostly, he would want to know and learn more of the party patron, Lord Petnik. He will walk throughout the open party grounds, seeing what he can see, and peering into windows to help divine what he can.

"You may also ‘discover’ Lord Petnik (knowledge local DC 16 to learn his influence or knowledge nobility DC 15 to learn his weakness)."

1d20 + 8 ⇒ (17) + 8 = 25 Know (Local)

He avoids the hot air balloon (too much commotion and noise) and sticks to where he can try to learn what this party is all about.

Madella let's the party crowds swirl about her; age and general experience easing her way. Even so, she tucks the delicate cage and it's inhabitant close to her bosom in hopes of
minimizing the bumps and swings for her companion. And if this brings added comfort of her own, well hasn’t she earned a bit of comfort, after all of these years? She gives a mental shake, takes a breath, and forces her attention outward, at the bedecked masses flowing into the party proper.

"Oh isn't this just the thing? Young Lord Robkin would have loved the spectacle, wouldn't he, Cuddles?" the thought dampens her enjoyment of the surroundings, but with a breath, she lets it pass.

"we shall just have to enjoy it for him, won't we, pet?" to that end, she brightens, and finds a passing glass of something bubbly to hold, if not to drink. She does not need to hear the whispers to realize that the young half elf must be the Lord of the Evening, for who else would call everyone’s attention in such a manner. A bitter ball of spite attempts to rise, but she thrusts it down before most would ever mark the emotion on her well trained face.

Knowledge nobility for weakness: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (19) + 10 = 29

Instead she begins to truly mingle with those of a “certain grace”, listening as is her wont, sprinkling in bits of knowledge gained over the years as needed to keep the conversation flowing.

influence an area (knowledge nobility): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (6) + 10 = 16

Lots of lucky rolls this round! Praise be Desna! Kamari and Anselm may be on the same balloon ride if you both wish. I did not assume so in my post, though there is overlap so you can play it either way. :)

Everyone feel free to check below to see how you’re all progressing. I’ll post one of these every time we do a social round for clarity - especially as most future social rounds are group affairs which makes some things easier.

You’re each moving through the party as you will, when suddenly Lord Petnik appears at your arm and politely introduces himself. ”Ahh, I am Lord Petnik Miragella, at your service.” He lingers a little over the last ‘a’ in Miragella before offering his soft, perfumed, and well manicured hand to yours. He continues after a brief pause, ”Forgive me for getting right to the point. You have an excellent reputation, I hear, and there is someone I’d dearly like you to meet. She’s quite powerful in certain circles.”

He looks at you levelly a moment as if recalling something before calling over a confidant and poised middle aged noble (image) nearby, ”Oh yes, Lady Lotheed, this is one of those people I mentioned to you. One of those adventurers.” he drags out the word, as if it were something unpleasant he stepped in. ”You might have use of their talents.” He introduces you formally by name and quietly steps away as quickly as he arrived and before you have an opportunity to chat much.

Lady Lotheed looks upon you, ”Ah, another one. Excellent. Thank you Lord Petnik.” she dismisses him with a wave even as he disappears peacefully into the throng once again. ”I’m glad our host invited you.” She smiles before continuing, a little rushed, ”I apologize for being blunt, but I have many people to visit tonight and a short time in which to do it. My name is Lady Martella Lotheed, and I serve a power even greater than myself. I have need of a small group of politically minded individuals to aid me in placing none other than Princess Eutropia Stavian on the throne!”

”I wonder, are you such an individual? I hear good things about you, but please do tell me a bit about yourself.”

Ultimately, Lady Martella Lotheed is going to hire a small group. Feel free to role play your answer to your hearts content. This happens to each of you individually over the course of the evening. For those of you who may be together, assume Lord Petnik gathered you up in a moment of solitude, perhaps while refreshing a drink at one of the bars for example. So you are each alone with Lady Lotheed for this meeting.

Please make a Knowledge Nobility or Local check. The answers below are tiered, so just one roll and read all that apply to your result. This is not a social round check, so you may take 10 if you wish.

Nobility: 1d20 + 9 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 9 + 2 = 31

"Lord Petnik," Anselm bows just slightly more deeply than befits the half-elf's station, signaling respect. He grasps the hosts hand warmly. "You do me an honor. Your festivities rival the delights of the seelie court and the hospitalities of Sothis."

He then bows more deeply. "Lady Martella. I too am an admirer of Princess Eutropia. I've heard her speak of the need to embrace all of Taldor's children. It warms my heart. True magic is to be found in the heart and imagination of every woman and man, wouldn't you say?"

He turns back to Petnik. "I am no adventurer, though my father and mother have taught me something of diplomacy and negotiation. I'll gladly help a good cause."

Okay, that image of that woman is *not* middle aged. I know middle aged, as I see one in the mirror almost every day. So...I would like to speak to the manager, please.

”Ahh, I am Lord Petnik Miragella, at your service.”

K'Aldrian nod/bows in a military fashion to Lord Miragella, offering his hand in an appropriate greeting.

"Yes, of course. I'm sure any friend of yours would be a worthy friend, indeed," Major Kort tries to hide his surprise and lack of experience with nobility behind ritual and formality. He's been away from Oppara, on the front lines (or near to it) for most of his life, and nobility and politics are new to him. He walks overly-rigidly with the Lord as he is introduced.

”My name is Lady Martella Lotheed, and I serve a power even greater than myself. I have need of a small group of politically minded individuals to aid me in placing none other than Princess Eutropia Stavian on the throne! Please do tell me about yourself."

K'Aldrian bows as he is flattered and needs time to collect his wits. He knows the formal rules for interacting with high society, but it's different having to interact with them in real time. He's spend more of his life humping from fight to fight than ever thinking about politics or royalty in Oppara.

1d20 + 8 ⇒ (10) + 8 = 18 Know (local)

"Nice to meet you, Lady Lotheed. It is an honor," Major Kort replies stiffly, trying to find grace and personality. "You say that the Princess should ascend to the throne? I have no issue with that. Truthfully, I am flattered that you would seek my council on such. I am a military man. I am not used to Oppara or politics or tradition. When I fight, I fight to win. I want the best ruler in charge that we can find...and if that is the Princess, then yes, I will support her. Taldor deserves nothing less," K'Aldrian responds.

"As for myself, there is little to say," he replies with heartfelt humility that was drummed into him by the military. "I have served the crown for over 30 years. I have seen combat on numerous occasions, mostly along the border with Qadira. I recently retired with the rank of Major, they would not rise me higher on account of my heritage..." K'Aldrian points to his slightly pointed elven ears, most of the bitterness lost in his voice. Most of it. "I have always served Taldor, and will continue in the future. They have been good to me, and I will fight for the Crown as long as I draw breath." K'Aldrian ends his speech stiffly and awkwardly as if he might say more, but not having the words to finish.

They should promote the best, no matter what their heritage or gender...even if they are half-human.

Kamari smiles at Lord Petnik and his offered hand. She grips his hand firmly and looks into his eyes trying to sense exactly what type of lord he is. She tries not to let show how unsettled she is by his next words.

Reputation? My reputation or…

Before she can respond, the lord is already speaking again. Kamari turns to greet the third to their threesome, intrigued by meeting a woman that a lord would call powerful. Her opinion of the lord drops faster than a lady of the night's dress as he maligns adventurers.

He’s probably never drawn blood with that dainty knife of his. Surely his manhood has been out of its sheath more often. She relaxes as the lord departs, sure that such an aloof fancy only knows of her daytime reputation.

As Lady Lotheed makes her proposal, a passing waiter gives Kamari the opportunity to grab a fresh glass of wine and a few moments to compose herself. She sips slowly and tries to quell the eager energy that almost has her vibrating.

”I am such an individual my Lady.” Kamari pauses, careful not to sound like the jittery schoolgirl she has become. ”I have spent much of my life extolling the virtues of women and contending that we are the equal of men. It baffles me that people do not understand what could be accomplished if we treated each other as equals. I have proven women’s worth with my intellect and my blade, each equally as deadly. I would be honored to assist Princess Eutropia Stavian in ascending to the throne that is rightfully hers.”

Knowledge nobility: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11

A bit too late, Kamari realizes she knows very little about the woman in front of her. She tries to casually look to her left and right for the royal guards that might come to carry her away.

"Ahh, I am Lord Petnik Miragella, at your service.”

Muri slows his pace, looking to bow out gracefully between the conversation of taller folk on both sides of him. When he realizes Lord Petnik is also slowing his pace, he taps the brim of his hat upwards to see his host more easily. Seeing a hand extended, he extends his own to shake hands.

"Forgive me for getting right to the point. You have an excellent reputation, I hear, and there is someone I’d dearly like you to meet. She’s quite powerful in certain circles.”

Ha! Haha! I should have known. Well played, Mircene. Alright, let's see where your game takes us tonight. "Of course, Lord Petnik. Your party, your prerogative."

"Oh yes, Lady Lotheed, this is one of those people I mentioned to you. One of those adventurers. You might have use of their talents.”

Muri watches Petnik retreat, his jaw obviously lowered in disbelief. What is happening here..? He turns back to the woman before him, politely offering his hand, preferring his interaction with the Tribune over Petnik.

”I apologize for being blunt...”

Knowledge(Nobility): 1d20 + 8 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 8 + 2 = 24

Muri takes a moment to place the face to the name, and the name to the family. When he's reasonably sure there is potential to the conversation, only then does he speak up.

"Good evening, Lady Martella. Let me join you, we can be blunt together. Your inquiry intrigues me. I've returned to Oppara in the hopes of securing allies, and until now, I haven't made many inroads. Appointments, sure. Inroads, not so much." Muri feels Underfoot lean against his side, then slide down his leg, until she's resting on his boots, her universal gesture of resignation.

"I'm a northern Daybreaker. I really enjoy the life. Northern Taldor is quite scenic, but it's also more lawless than I'd like. Hence, my presence in Oppara." Muri studies Martella for signs of strain. "Yes, I'm motivated to see more equity in all parts of our country, and if you are who you say you are, a representative of someone more powerful, then I may benefit from submitting my name for your consideration. For this group you're assembling. I'd rather be shepherding, of course, but I'd do better to advocate for my brethren."

Mallë-o i Otos Elen recoils slightly at Lord Petnik's sudden and purposeful manifestation. She regards his proffered soft perfumed hand with ever so slight distain, before nodding with a blink in friendly acknowledgement. "Mallë-o i Otos Elen," she responds without touching him, regarding him with great curiosity.

She keeps her eyes riveted on Lord Miragella as she is introduced to Lady Martella, as if watching an unbelievably bad carraige collision from which you are unable to tear your focus.

'Us people'? Why so much derision in his tone? Her eyes flicker with subtle anger.

Pleased when he is gone, her eyes soften and eventually turn to Lady Martella. "Am I pleased to meet you," she smiles, trying not to make it sound like a question.

KnowNob: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (7) + 9 = 16

Is she that desperate? To hire me? Why is she with that troll? Mallë-o i Otos Elen conceals her skepticsm and replies, "My Lady, I do not know how I could help you, for I am but a humble artist making the world -- I mean -- making my way in the world... and I am not off to a great start," she laughs lightly, "I didn't even land a part in the ballet. But please," she smiles, "if placing Princess Eutropia on the throne would make the world more fufilling and beautiful for people, I would be willing to do whatever is in my ability to make that happen."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (9) + 9 = 18

”Ahh, I am Lord Petnik Miragella, at your service.” …. ”Forgive me for getting right to the point. You have an excellent reputation, I hear, and there is someone I’d dearly like you to meet. She’s quite powerful in certain circles.”

Madella turns a well practiced smile to the young lord, an almost maternal pride in her voice, “and Well Done to you, Lord Petnik! This is sure to be the hit of The Season. Ah, but I understand demands on your time must be intense on such a night. Please, lead on.’

, ”Oh yes, Lady Lotheed, this is one of those people I mentioned to you. One of those adventurers.”

Madella gives a quiet “tut” of disapproval at such an introduction, as if he had misread his primer in front of his father at tea. and we were off to such a good start. Ah well, it is to be expected from the young, I suppose. She wonders again, where the young lord gets his information, for there are few that would consider her “adventurous”, let alone, an “adventurer”.

”I wonder, are you such an individual? I hear good things about you, but please do tell me a bit about yourself.”

Madella looks about for any one of the Line that might be nearby, but no, Lady Martella would not be within their ranks, nor they, with Her. With a breath, the older “M” tries out a little used trait, Trust.” I could and would be such an individual. I have returned to Oppara after a rather long absence only to find that not much has changed in the half a century I was away. I found it… disappointing. I think I could enjoy helping bring a bit of Change to the Capitol. she does not go into the details of her absence; in all likelihood, her distant “cousin” has heard most of it before. And, as she said, the Woman has important business tonight. Geneology can wait.

As I mentioned to Mama D off-site, disguise self does wonders for the wrinkles… hehehe, but yes, she does look very young for her age even in person.

Kamari relaxes some and addresses Lady Lotheed, ”I bring the people, the common people.” She pauses, but picks up again quickly. ”Forgive me. I forget my audience or the fact that I do not have one. In the café’s, on the plaza, in front of those who need persuading, a bit of flamboyance and zealousness are required. With you, I believe only honesty will suffice.”

”And, I do bring the common people, at least some of them, those who have heard the Princess’ righteous claim to her birthright. I have shared and amplified her message and helped others to see the validity of her royal highness' declaration.” Kamari pauses again for sincerity. ”My resume does not end there. I know Oppara’s people and I know Oppara as a living entity. I have spent much time both in class and in person learning about her life, her inner workings, what makes her thrive, and what ails her.”

Being careful not to appear at all threatening, she touches her rapier, ”I’m also able to take care of myself, or others, if necessary.” She grins, a sparkle in her eyes, as she waits to receive the grade of her presentation.

“... So where have you been for the last half-century? What has your life prepared you to do in this moment, balanced on the edge of history?”

She shakes her head and smiles,”In short, Lady Martella, I have been born female, and survived.”

In the end you chat with Lady Lotheed for several more minutes before she thanks you for your time as she politely takes her leave and moves on to another interview. You swirl about the ongoing party, somewhat in a daze. Lady Lotheed is working for Princess Eutropia Stavian! Oh, the things you could accomplish by helping put Her on the throne! Not to mention what She could accomplish…

Later, and again one by one, Lord Petnik Miragella silently approaches each of you as the party begins to wind down well after midnight. He waits, politely, and with the patience that not having to work for a living brings, while you complete whatever conversation or activity you’re engaged in at the moment. When you’re free, he effortlessly glides up and begs an audience, ”Ahh, a word, please.” he explains that there’s a meeting with Martella Lotheed in the drawing room in a little while. ”Your attendance has been requested by Lady Lotheed, if you would be so kind.”

He pauses for light conversation if you wish, then, like a butterfly, he flits away - delving deeper into the party seeking out others who have been likewise called. …Or a fresh drink, it’s hard to know. His wine flute always seems large, half-full, and well chilled.

You may now enjoy three more social rounds in the time you have before the meeting. You may continue to influence the area (knowledge local/history/nobility DC 15 to tell a story or perform DC 13 to perform), though remember there are only two thresholds, so if you’ve received both, there’s nothing more to gain.

You may also now chat with Lord Petnik, to either ’discover’ his weakness or influences if you haven’t already (learn influences: Knowledge local or Sense Motive DC 16, lean weakness: Knowledge nobility DC 15 or Sense Motive DC 20). If you know or successfully learn his influences, you may also try to influence him (roll a diplomacy or knowledge nobility DC 16).

Unlike the previous rolls, influencing Lord Petnik is a normal group check even though you don’t know each other as yet. Between all of you, you need two to four successes, though it’s uncertain how many. As with many things in life, you’ll know it when you see it.

As Lady Lotheed and her nearby escorts depart, Kamari brims with pride as if she had aced an exam. I’ve earned some dessert!

Kamari spies a table depicting a miniature castle. White cake walls surround a central tower of cake from which pieces are cut until the top is gone and within seconds replaced by a nearby attendant. Mini chocolate people in a multitude of hues populate the surrounding grounds and are picked up and chomped on by partygoers playing at being a dragon. She selects a small depiction of a boy and joins in the fun.

Oratory: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9
"Is not this grand, sharing this table together,” she says to an obvious lord and lady next to her. ”Perhaps one day we can sit at a table together and share a whole meal. Wouldn’t that be fabulous?” The lord doesn’t hesitate in his answer, ”No, it would not.” With that he accepts a piece of cake from the top of the tower and departs.

Knowledge Nobility: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10
Undeterred, Kamari circles the large table, munching on a medium sized inhabitant before addressing another gentleman she recognizes by his bulbous nose, but can’t quite place. ”Good sir,” she begins before being cut off. ”I am a Lord, young miss, and you would do well to remember it.” With that he picks up a woman from the table, holds it up in comparison to Kamari, and bites its head off before putting it back down. Kamari looks about the table for an obvious lord and picks him up. ”I will,” she says before popping the entire thing in her mouth and walking away.

Knowledge Local: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10
Kamari heads for the ballroom to burn off some frustrations, but is unable to even get on the floor. Unlike the balloon, there’s no obvious queue as people spin on and off the floor. She watches for a while, but can’t figure out how to join in the dancing. She smiles about at some of the unpaired gentlemen and women, but none return her glance. Do I have chocolate on my face? Finally, she settles for seizing a glass, then a second, from a passing waiter. She escorts the bubbly pair into the garden to be alone for a minute.

Diplomacy to Influence: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (16) + 15 = 31
As she enters the garden, Lord Petnik thwarts her attempt for some solitude. With resignation, she welcomes him by her side and even offers him the extra glass of wine. ”My Lord, thank you for hosting such an egalitarian gathering. I hope that your generosity does not end this night. May your magnanimity greet the sunrise so that these people might share more than a single night together." Lord Petnik nods and takes his leave. Kamari is not sure if his nod is in agreement or only to placate her, but she feels better as she strides toward the meeting with Lady Lotheed.

Anselm lingers with the party's host as long as possible. With the occasional understated, polite question, he tries to draw Petnik out.

Nobility to learn weakness: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29 Social Round 1

"Our families certainly have those who hew to old ways, others who've wished for reforms since ere I took my first breath. I don't mean to pry, but perhaps you've some wisdom for me as I take these steps. How has your family responded to your leanings?" He leans in close, noble-to-noble, and lets the noise of the crowd ensure discretion.

Nobility to gain favor / act as confidante: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (15) + 9 = 24 Social Round 2

I'll wait for more info before going for round 3.

K’Aldrian smiles to himself, offering a bow to the Lady as she moves away. He has not had much contact with the nobility and finds this particular encounter quite interesting. He wasn’t afraid of dealing with nobles, but he was new to their games. He had heard stories, of course, of the games of favors and backstabbing between nobles, but he had little first hand experience with it.

And such, this meeting with the Lady was particularly interesting. He would be thinking about it the rest of the night, heck, probably the rest of the week. He walks around using his cane for the rest of the party, no so much enjoying the party, but trying to puzzle out what just happened. His mind goes over potential outcomes and seeks hidden meanings. He can find none.

I will dance to see what they want from me, if anything. I will never betray the Empire.

Anselm continues to court Petnik's favor.

"Oh, I suppose I mean where you stand for the future. The Miragellas have always been so forward-thinking. You seem to embody just that quality. What do you envision for your family as this era flows into the next?"

He waves down a waiter bearing wine, non-verbally asking Miragella if he'd like a glass. "Normally I try to stay out of politics, as well. You know how we Basri are. 'We stand for Taldor, in Summer, Winter, Fall, and Spring.' But I do enjoy the promise of springtime. New fruit on ancient soil."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 + 2 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 8 + 2 + 4 = 24

”Ahh, a word, please. Your attendance has been requested by Lady Lotheed, if you would be so kind.”

Mallë-o i Otos Elen bobs in a slight curtsy. Better approach. Maybe I have misjudged him. Perhaps his circumstances have given him unjust bias. But a wine flute? That he really should know better... "Thank you for this incredibly enjoying and relaxing evening!" She smiles, toasting him with her wine spritzer. "Tell me, do you enjoy Oppara with it's rolling hillside, rugged bluffs, ostentatious bridges and posts -- not to mention its glorious sunsets?

'tis a pity your Cousin for the time being is is unable to recognize what they've taken from Golsifar."

KnowNob: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 20

Will wait before the Influencing begins.

"I of course work directly for Princess Eutropia Stavian. Though it’s coming to be common knowledge, I’d ask that you not confirm it if you hear the rumors. Silence is appreciated.”

Muri enjoys the rest of his conversation with the Lady, though much of it is muted, as he plays her admission over and over again in his mind, then plays out the early morning conversation he expects to have with Mircene, when he finally returns to the Manor. He smiles politely and bows as Lady Lotheed indicates her need to speak with others. She's not going to believe me. One step away from the Princess... Mircene's eyes are going to roll so hard, I'll hear the suction...

The halfling reaches down to pat Underfoot's side, only to find the dog has already gained her legs. "Alright, Girl. Where to? There's plenty of wick yet to burn tonight. Honestly though, I think it can't get much better than that." He almost says both new names out loud, then catches himself before admitting to a dog that Martella is directly tied to Eutropia. I'm going to need practice. Where is he..?

Muri Feather Hat moves through the crowds with purpose, seeking out Petnik, ostensibly to thank his host for such an introduction to Lady Lotheed. If he's being honest with himself, he still remembers the tone of voice, and the abruptness of the Lord, and can't quite shake the slight.

Catching Petnik in one of his several transitions between guests, Muri sidles up to the half-elf.

Social Round 3

"Lord Petnik, I know you're busy, so I won't take too much time to thank you for your hasty introduction to Lady Lotheed. Busy man. I get it. Do you know my cousin, Lady Mircene, of House Pelicourt? She sends her regards. She would have been here, but she didn't receive an invitation herself."

Knowledge(Nobility) v DC 15 to Discover Weaknesses: 1d20 + 8 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 8 + 2 = 13

Social Round 4

Muri senses that his initial direction in conversation is lackluster, at best. "Well, I am very flattered you invited me, fed me so well. If I can assist you in the future, please know that I will do my best to see your hospitality repaid with interest!! Our farm up north is thriving, despite the discouraging influences of Galt. I will speak very kindly of you to my cousin, you can be sure of that."

Knowledge(Nobility) v DC 15 to Discover Weaknesses: 1d20 + 8 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 8 + 2 = 18

Social Round 5

The halfling in a hat gives one last push, this time with the intent on making the half-elf feel better about himself, which should be the last thing someone should remember, so it burns most brightly in one's memory.

"I envy you, Lord Petnik. The Miragellas' success in agriculture, well, it's something I hope the Daybreakers may aspire to, though it may take a couple of generations to see the herds bred to greater numbers. I hear Golsifar is beautiful country. With your kindness this evening, I have even more reason to venture south one of these years."

Knowledge(Nobility) v DC 16, to Influence: 1d20 + 8 + 2 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 8 + 2 + 4 = 25

Do they mean to play with me and my loyalties? Take advantage of my station? Or do they really just need my help? K'Aldrian clacks around the party, his cane keeping the beat with his mind and spinning questions.

He knew he was good at thinking through complex problems, but the middle of a party was hardly a good time to do that. After his second shuffling around the party, he finally develops a plan, not a good plan, but a plan nonetheless.

He would learn more about Lord Petnik, he decides slowly after reviewing many plans and discarding even more. In the end, he decides on the direct approach to acquire more information.

"Now, Lord Petnik, I want to thank you again for inviting me to this party," K'Aldrian interrupts when he thinks he can do so politely. "Now I noticed the castle and minis you had set up. It was an interesting scenario. Do you mind telling me about it? What do the array of forces mean to you?"

1d20 + 9 ⇒ (17) + 9 = 26 Sense Motive - Learn weaknesses.

Only if above is fail:1d20 + 9 ⇒ (7) + 9 = 16 Sense Motive - Learn weaknesses.

Only if above is fail:1d20 + 9 ⇒ (6) + 9 = 15 Sense Motive - Learn weaknesses.

Anselm hides his skepticism at Petnik's blithe denial. How does a shipping family make money without politics?

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 9 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 9 + 2 = 25

Whatever he feels about the noble playboy, he smiles to himself and makes his way to meet his new patroness.

Social Round 3
knowledge nobility, influence: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (8) + 10 = 18

Madella returns to the party, listening at the edges of first one group, then another. When appropriate, she shares a tale or two of her own. But, it's been her experience that Listening, with implied approval in the correct moments, serves one better. This evening is no exception.

”Ahh, oh my heavens!” Lord Miragella exclaims, ”You lot are persistent!” Laughing lightly, he leans in and whispers, ”If ever you have need of certain magics or other items… ahh, the kind you might not want other nobles to know about, why, you look me up. OK? Within reason now, nothing necromantic or the like mind you.”

He shakes your hand, with more firmness than before as he looks you in the eye. He then departs.

(The group has achieved influence with Lord Petnik Miragella. In his case that means gaining his services on the black market obtaining magic items or other equipment without a messy paper trail or formal oversight.)

You each, in your own time, make your way to the drawing room. Heavy set and well dressed Ulfen guards (link) stand at the door. They permit your passage when you reveal your name, though you suspect they already had your description. They seem well trained, and almost polite - not the usual thugs employed by many aristocrats in Oppara.

You enter a sumptuous drawing room, off limits to party-goers, replete with fanciful paintings in gilt frames, a wide variety of chairs, settees, sofas, and another sideboard - loaded with sweet smelling treats and several light drinks, though you notice none of them are alcoholic.

Martella is not immediately there. Please feel free to introduce yourselves to each other, with descriptions, and generally chat a few minutes while you await her presence. Also, you should now finalize your character if you haven’t already as we now begin more or less in earnest. Please let me know when you are done with your build so I can do a final review.

Entering first, Major K’Aldrian Kort looks around and then makes his way to pick up a drink, his cane clacking and keeping some of the weight off his knees.

Ramrod straight and pretty rickety around the edges, he still projects an aura of confidence and competence. An older half-elf, K’Aldrian stands nearly 6’ tall with grey hair and overly straight posture.

He wears well decorated (retired Major) parade armor and polished boots. He has a nice dagger at his belt that bears the crest of the Taldan military upon it.

He nods to those that enter, but does not overtly offer greeting or introduction. He seems content to stand rigidly and wait to see what happens rather than engage.

Social round 4
Madella, having heard bits and pieces, and pieces of bits, finds herself between a lower son of one of the minor houses, and the daughter of what she can only assume is a wealthy merchant. They could do worse, than each other

knowledge nobility: 1d20 + 10 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 10 + 2 = 20

"Oh do let us make the introductions, Cuddles. Look, they both show a fondness for seafood!" more than one younger son has sought fresh funds for the future by way of a mercantile marriage. Why should this one be any different? And the girl, while pretty, shows a shrewd mind and stern enough backbone, to make her way in his world, eventually.

Social Round 5

Once she has extricated herself from the possible couple, Madella finds a position to hover, in between likely groups, to see if her fellow butterfly flutters within a friendly distance. and if so...

"He has done well, has he not? Our good Lord Petnik, that is." she adds a well practiced motion with the glass in hand, indicating the party at large. "The festivities seem to be an unmitigated success, wouldn't you say so, sir?"

knowledge nobility to influence: 1d20 + 10 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 10 + 2 = 28

Madella enters the meeting room as she has attended the rest of the Party; with a certainty of Place that bends and blends to those around her. She is neither first nor last, and congenial, but not flamboyantly so.

She acknowledges the guards at the door with a bit of Skald and a slight smile. At 5'7", she is not considered short by many, but she does not even reach the shoulder of the Ulfen warriors as she rustles by.

Her hair, a natural silver with what may be some unnatural highlights, is arranged in a style appropriate to her age, though if that is 50 or 80 would be difficult to say. She gives a nod to the military man as she gathers a fresh glass and a small treat, which she then breaks into small pieces to feed to her prickly companion contained in a delicate looking cage-purse-trinket that she wears upon her wrist.

Having had little luck since her opening speech to the crowd trapped in line at the balloon, Kamari pauses at a mirror before reaching the drawing room. She checks for any bits of chocolate that might have escaped her furious scrubbing with a napkin. She straightens her skirt and adjusts her blouse so that it leaves just enough to the imagination. She takes a minute to tighten a few of her braids and smiles in the mirror at the beauty before her.

She undoes another button on her blouse, revealing a bit more cleavage, then quickly buttons it back up along with an additional one. No. They will judge me for who I am. She considers for a moment and undoes the extra one. And this is who I am.

After passing an appreciative inspection by the Ulfen guards, Kamari strides confidently into the room scanning for Lady Martella, but only sees a decorative suit of armor. Sighing, she heads to the sideboard, delighted by the selection of truffles, but dismayed by the lack of any proper drinks to accompany them. She starts to nibble on a dark chocolate shell filled with a hazelnut ganache when she notices the armor has gray hair.

"Oh, hello. Enjoying the party?"