Placeholder for an upcoming Kingmaker campaign.
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Tonight's the night!
Restov has been abuzz ever since Lady Jamandi Aldori issued her "Call for Heroes" to tame the Stolen Lands, and you have answered her call. So it is that you find yourselves making your way up the cobblestone path to Lady Aldori's manor, an impressive three story structure set on top of a hill overlooking the Free City of Restov. The path itself, bordered by majestic oaks and well manicured hedges, winds around the hill for nearly a mile past a barrack, the stables, and over a dozen thatched roofed cottages of the manor's servants and retainers. Once you reach the manor proper you pass through a hedge lined rose garden to the great hall itself where crowds of people wait to be called and escorted inside. Ominous grey clouds scudder overhead and distant thunder portends the storm to come. Finally you are the last group to be called and you enter the great hall just as the rain begins to fall.
This spacious hall has been prepared for a great feast. Servants hustle and bustle about, while several armed soldiers—Lady Jamandi’s house guards—watch over the hall from their positions against the east and west walls. To the north, a fire crackles away in a large fireplace. An iron lever secured by a lock adorns the fireplace’s eastern face. The faint scent of cinnamon wafts from two massive oil burning crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling twenty feet above. The walls are decorated with painted murals of idyllic woodland scenes: nymphs frolicking amid waterfalls, satyrs dancing with fawns in wooded glades, and various winged fairy creatures flitting through the trees. Nine long tables are arranged around the central portion of the room, each holding plates, utensils, mugs, goblets, and full, ready to be poured pitchers of ale, wine, mead, and water. The smell of roasted meat and other delicious scents fill the room, yet no food has yet been served.
You escorted to a table near the back of the hall where five other people are already seated. First is a human female dressed in hide armor, which bares her scarred midriff, who seems to be impatiently waiting for the feast to begin. Across from her sits another human female wearing scale mail, whose blonde hair has been chopped into a bob as if she did it herself. Next to her is a human male who, incongruously, isn't wearing any armor. His black hair, pulled back into a ponytail, frames his face which bares a few faint white scars. He seems to be chatting up the blonde next to him, much to her irritation. Across from them is a female halfling, her fingers stained with ink, who seems to be trying to take in and memorize everything happening everywhere, perhaps for a later entry into her journal. Next to her sits a male gnome, with shockingly purple hair who is dressed in purple robes. He watches your approach with something akin to disdain. The human male greets you each with a hand shake "Welcome," he says with a smile "I'm Maegar Varn, of House Varn, won't you please be seated". It's a tight fit but you manage to get seated comfortably "And who might you all be?" Maegar asks.
You know Maegar Varn is the eldest son of House Varn but, do to his family's peculiar tradition of the head of house selecting his heir, he is not the next in line for succession. That honor instead goes to his youngest brother, Paulun.
Once you are seated a striking half-elf woman enters the hall, followed by an aristocratic, middle-aged human man. The man wears finely tailored clothing, fit for a noble, while the woman appears dressed for battle. She wears a fine leather coat over a sparkling mail shirt, and at her waist hangs an Aldori dueling sword with a bright silver pommel. The two make their way to the head table, where they remain standing.
The man speaks first. “Greetings, heroes! I am Ioseph Sellemius, lord mayor of Restov. And this,” he gestures to the woman beside him, “is Lady Jamandi Aldori. We both thank you for answering her call for heroes. You may be few, but we need only the best for this great task.”
You recognize Lady Jamandi as one of the Aldori swordlords—former rulers of Rostland before it's forced merger, along with the nation of Issia, into the Kingdom of Brevoy by Choral the Conqueror. She is a wealthy and influential woman, who is recognized as one of Restov’s greatest warriors.
You recall that Lady Jamandi’s Aldori dueling sword trails magical fire when it strikes, and while she used to take jobs as a mercenary, she now focuses on tending to the needs of her manor, troops, and duties to Restov.
You know that Lady Jamandi has recently been at odds with the ruling house of Brevoy, and even her wealth and influence in Restov may not offer long term protection from the Regent of the Dragonscale Throne to the north.
Lady Jamandi offers the room a broad smile before she speaks. “South of here, beyond Brevoy’s border, lie the Stolen Lands. This disputed territory has been claimed time and again by would-be settlers, but because the area has been a haven for bandits and monsters, it has never been held for long. Restov intends for this to change. If you have enough courage to drive off the dangerous denizens of the Stolen Lands, you can seize territory for yourselves and name yourselves baronesses or barons. Restov intends to recognize the legitimacy of the new rulers of this land, and none of the other neighboring realms care enough to challenge you. We are prepared to provide backing as a trade partner and military ally. If you claim the land, you will have my—indeed, all of Restov’s— support!”
After Lady Jamandi finishes speaking a small bell rings and her servants begin to circle around the room, filling mugs with ale, fruit juice, or water and serving food from heaping platters. The feast itself includes four courses in all: crisp greens lightly flavored with savory oils, spicy seasoned waterfowl, a main course of tender roast boar, and a finishing selection of fine desserts and cheeses. For the duration of the feast, the servants bustle about in their never-ending quest to keep mugs and goblets full and take discarded plates away to the scullery.
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Ugh Daxiana Gloridia Medvyed thought as she entered in, My Aunt was right. I am underdressed. The young woman with dark hair is dressed more as a huntress than a noble. She shakes her head at the irony of it. She had pictured this call to heroes being more of a situation for commoners of skill to improve their station than a place for fellow nobles to swarm. This had the potential to be incredibly mortifying as she never did pay as much attention to courtly goings ons as her parents wanted her to.
One can't complain about the smells of food though, and she inhales appreciatively only to find it hasn't been served yet If my stomach growls I'm not going to apologize for it.
You escorted to a table near the back of the hall where five other people are already seated. First is a human female dressed in hide armor, which bares her scarred midriff, who seems to be impatiently waiting for the feast to begin. Across from her sits another human female wearing scale mail, whose blonde hair has been chopped into a bob as if she did it herself. Next to her is a human male who, incongruously, isn't wearing any armor. His black hair, pulled back into a ponytail, frames his face which bares a few faint white scars. He seems to be chatting up the blonde next to him, much to her irritation. Across from them is a female halfling, her fingers stained with ink, who seems to be trying to take in and memorize everything happening everywhere, perhaps for a later entry into her journal. Next to her sits a male gnome, with shockingly purple hair who is dressed in purple robes. He watches your approach with something akin to disdain. The human male greets you each with a hand shake "Welcome," he says with a smile "I'm Maegar Varn, of House Varn, won't you please be seated". It's a tight fit but you manage to get seated comfortably "And who might you all be?" Maegar asks.
She shakes Maeger's hand back, firm but not too much, "Daxiana GLoridia Medvyed, PLEASE call me Daxiana, or even Dax. Life's too short to be answering to the whole thing all the time. House Varn eh? Please forgive, I never was awake much during my lessons." She takes a seat and surveys the others. The most intriguing woman might be the one in hide armor with the scars. She's certainly not a local. Now that's what she expected when she got here, tough looking folks from strange places carving a name through history and so on. The more reserved blonde with the unforunate hair cut is better armored, but apparently not up for masculine attention And the guy might not be getting the hint. I feel your pain she thinks wryly, though Varn doesn't seem so bad at first glance. It might be easy to overlook the halfling and the gnome as they're both short, but she's now curious about the former. Is she going to try to write ALL this down? That sounds.. exhausting. The gnome looks a touch disdainful, and Dax decides to save time by taking a mild dislike to him
"Well, this looks like it will be exciting." She observes.Once you are seated a striking half-elf woman enters the hall, followed by an aristocratic, middle-aged human man. The man wears finely tailored clothing, fit for a noble, while the woman appears dressed for battle. She wears a fine leather coat over a sparkling mail shirt, and at her waist hangs an Aldori dueling sword with a bright silver pommel. The two make their way to the head table, where they remain standing.
She smiles at their entrance, even while thinking I really really shouldn't have skipped heralrdry class
The man speaks first. “Greetings, heroes! I am Ioseph Sellemius, lord mayor of Restov. And this,” he gestures to the woman beside him, “is Lady Jamandi Aldori. We both thank you for answering her call for heroes. You may be few, but we need only the best for this great task.”
Oh thank Cayden, names given. I may have to pester that halfling for a peek at her journal for a list of who is who around here.
Lady Jamandi offers the room a broad smile before she speaks. “South of here, beyond Brevoy’s border, lie the Stolen Lands. This disputed territory has been claimed time and again by would-be settlers, but because the area has been a haven for bandits and monsters, it has never been held for long. Restov intends for this to change. If you have enough courage to drive off the dangerous denizens of the Stolen Lands, you can seize territory for yourselves and name yourselves baronesses or barons. Restov intends to recognize the legitimacy of the new rulers of this land, and none of the other neighboring realms care enough to challenge you. We are prepared to provide backing as a trade partner and military ally. If you claim the land, you will have my—indeed, all of Restov’s— support!”
HER EYES bug out at this, It said a call for heroes. I didn't expect THIS. Wow. Baroness huh? Not MY goal, but it might shut mom up, and that's not nothing.
After Lady Jamandi finishes speaking a small bell rings and her servants begin to circle around the room, filling mugs with ale, fruit juice, or water and serving food from heaping platters. The feast itself includes four courses in all: crisp greens lightly flavored with savory oils, spicy seasoned waterfowl, a main course of tender roast boar, and a finishing selection of fine desserts and cheeses. For the duration of the feast, the servants bustle about in their never-ending quest to keep mugs and goblets full and take discarded plates away to the scullery.
"Oh thank Cayden, the smells in the distance were making me ravenous," She takes a slice of roast boar, some of that spicy water fowl, and salad mixed with cheeses, "This looks delicious." She tries some "Tastes it too. So," Dax looks about at the others, "Was anyone else here expecting a fine meal with a side order of politics? The latter caught me off guard."
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Brand walks in with a big smile on his face. Having left his spear with his horse in the stable he is still a daunting figure with furs and leather over scale mail, a large hunting knife by his side, and a pair of bladed fingerless gloves tucked into his belt. He follows the attendant to the table and after Varn introduces himself Brand shakes the man's hand vigorously. "I'm Brand, just Brand, it's good to meet you sir." Then he tips his head to the ladies present, "Ladies, you are all looking lovely this evening." Then turning to the gnome he asks, "Good evening to you master gnome. Might I ask why the eccentric hair color?" After a response good or ill, Brand takes his seat.
When the noble and the armed woman walk out on Brand takes notice. After they introduce themselves as their hosts, Brand stands shoving his chair backward and roars, "A salute to the Swordlord and the Mayor! Blood and steel I say, blood and steel!" Then, after a short round of applause he reseats himself, picking up the chair.
"Ahh, the food." Brand takes servings befitting his size which is significant. Then once his mug is full he raises it to those at the table, "To a night of revelry and a future of song."
In response to Daxiana, "Politics? That's looking too deep into it. It's an opportunity to gain our own piece of land and use our muscles to acquire it. Can't ask for more than that."
Aelbourne takes the proffered hand and shakes it warmly "Aelbourne Silverleaf, late of the Restov guard." he says, slightly bemused by his situation "Of course Silverleaf is just the Taldane translation of my actual last name, it is rather difficult to say without knowing Elvish." he rattles on.
He's about to say something to the gnome next to him when his Lordship and Lady enter. Being a member of the city guard he stands to as the pair enter, only to become somewhat relieved is Brand jumps to his feet with a rather boisterous shout, "Here, here!" he says as he takes his seat.
He listens to Lady Jamandi's speech, dumbstruck "A chance at nobility? Not too shabby for a poor farm boy from Rostland"
"Nice to meet you, Brand!" Daxiana says. The fellow seems exuberant, and she can respect that.
She makes a note of Silverleaf and nods to him in greeting too.
In response to Daxiana, "Politics? That's looking too deep into it. It's an opportunity to gain our own piece of land and use our muscles to acquire it. Can't ask for more than that."
"I hope you're right, Brand, but I can't help but think any ally of Rostland in the future will be pulled into the politics of Brevoy eventually. Tensions are high, alliances high and low rise up as folks take sides ,and so on. Still, maybe you're right and we'll just keep it simple. A plot of land here and there to settle on, fancy titles if we like, and clearing out some bandits so folk can have an ale and a pipe in peace."
The pale elf, swathed in black robes, looks exactly as out of place at this gathering as he feels. If not for the urging of his long-time friend Halvar Brandt, he wouldn't even be here; but the ageing veteran gave him a very pointed pep-talk ("She was always going to predecease you, boy. Going to spend the next century moping, or are you going to live?")
Why exactly *do* I let him call me boy? Allandír muses idly to himself as he offers his hand to be crushed by Maegar Varn's muscular hand-shake. He nods politely at Varn, but doesn't offer his name in return. "Thank you for your welcome." He can tell that Varn has many other people to talk to, so he doesn't linger.
Jamandi Aldori's speech has his full attention as he weighs up what is being said - and what is most pointedly not being said.
Fascinating. A bold move, to stabilise the southern border by proxy - committing minimal resources, preserving them for a fight with the ruling house of Brevoy, if it comes to it... while having plausible deniability. But is it plausible enough? Such a move is bound to provoke a response from the Dragonscale Throne, surely?
He recalls one of the proverbs of his people: Do not meddle in the affairs of humans, for they are not all that subtle. On the other hand... what, exactly, does he have left to lose? There are two gravestones in a churchyard in this country, one for his wife and one for their child, and sometimes Allandír feels that he buried himself there too.
He gives a brief, almost imperceptible shake of his head to dismiss those thoughts as best he can. He quickly finds a spare seat among the others, and does his best not to look too conspicuously out of place; which is a challenge, given that he is an elf who wears his two centuries of wear and tear not in the least bit lightly. The Worldwound will do that to a soul, and the flesh carrying it.
""Was anyone else here expecting a fine meal with a side order of politics? The latter caught me off guard."
The battered elf raises one eyebrow. "Did it truly? Brevoy being what it is at present, that is the only part of the evening that I was expecting. So yes, this promises to be an, ah, interesting evening, judging from the assembly here."
The battered elf raises one eyebrow. "Did it truly? Brevoy being what it is at present, that is the only part of the evening that I was expecting. So yes, this promises to be an, ah, interesting evening, judging from the assembly here."
"Ugh" She says aloud, "So you think it is too, even though you were better braced for it." a shake of her head, "I STILL hope Brand is here is right but aye. It smacks of Swordlord bracing against Surtova. Never had the stomach for that when I could just be in the woods but my dislike doesn't mean I can always escape it."
Then she smiles, "But at least the food's good."
Huh, this elf fellow has a keener awareness of the politics than most us so far. Wonder if he hopes to avoid it as much as I do?
Allandír smiles in reply, his face lighting up in good humour for the first time in a long while. "It is that. So, you are a forester then? Woodcraft is not my, ah, specialty but the forests of Brevoy are quite something."
And if civil war comes to this land, the Gronzi Forest will burn. The madness of the Abyss is not confined to the Worldwound. His smile drops as abruptly as it appeared.
Allandír smiles in reply, his face lighting up in good humour for the first time in a long while. "It is that. So, you are a forester then? Woodcraft is not my, ah, specialty but the forests of Brevoy are quite something."
And if civil war comes to this land, the Gronzi Forest will burn. The madness of the Abyss is not confined to the Worldwound. His smile drops as abruptly as it appeared.
A proud look escapes but she has the good grace to smile as she explains "Tracking, Exploring, Hunting, or shooting at Poachers who don't know how to responsibly TO hunt is a weekend for me. Mind you've been known to let the last go now and then, but recently? Had this idiot killing a doe, a pregnant doe at that." Daxiana shakes her head in disgust, "Do they not know where future deer come from?" Realizing she might be boring the fellow, she adds "I've been told I'm a ranger actually, though I haven't ranged as far as I'd like. Pardon the rambling. I'm Daxiana, in case you didn't hear it through this throng. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking too, good sir?"
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Seeing the sad little elf brings Brand to action, "My fine elf, you need another mead, or perhaps your first one." He looks about for one of the servers. "Hey, serving boy, we need a strong mead for my friend over here. Make it snappy." Then, turning back to Allandir he offers a hand, "Brand, just Brand, what do you go by my friend? And why the long face?"
When a moment presents itself he says to Aelbourne, "A Restov guard, ooo boy, you make my days as a caravan guard look paltry."
Iolandra takes in the surroundings of the noble’s manor as she approaches, noting the wide variety of others around her. Though lacking some of the beauty of the natural sprawl of the wilderness, the mighty oaks and well-kept hedges at least display some appreciation of the natural world. Attending a place like this, surrounded by so many other people was definitely not her preferred environment, but the building storm looking overhead was strangely comforting, a reminder that all the pomp meant little in the grand scheme of things.
As she and those grouped with her enter the hall, the warmth of the crackling fire is welcome, and despite her apprehensions, the scenes of woodland life and fey bring a smile to her lips.
The others seated at the same table span a wide variety, large and small, city dwellers and those more tribal or wild in bearing…making her feel that she at least did not stand out too much, with her simple leather armor and clothing, and staff of knotted wood in her hand, among all the polished steel and finery.
”Iolandra.” She answers in response to the introduction, listening to the others as they proclaim titles and former posts. She was simply a follower of the Green Faith looking to preserve something of the natural world and find her place. Before she can say anything further, the people in charge arrive, declaring the purpose of the gathering, and surprisingly, offering lands in exchange for the exploration.
Looking at some of those present, eagerly considering rulership and others in search of adventure, she shakes her head in amusement. This would be quite a journey to say the least.
She smiles as the huntress speaks of preferring the woods to the maneuverings of the city, nodding in agreement. ”I also prefer the wilds to all the noise and maneuvering, but I mus say, the meal is very good.” she says with a hint of a smile.
The others seated at the same table span a wide variety, large and small, city dwellers and those more tribal or wild in bearing…making her feel that she at least did not stand out too much, with her simple leather armor and clothing, and staff of knotted wood in her hand, among all the polished steel and finery.
It is the simplicity of that outfit that gets Daxiana's attention if only for a moment. Practical woman looks like.
”Iolandra.” She answers in response to the introduction, listening to the others as they proclaim titles and former posts.
Daxiana makes a mental note of that.
She smiles as the huntress speaks of preferring the woods to the maneuverings of the city, nodding in agreement. ”I also prefer the wilds to all the noise and maneuvering, but I mus say, the meal is very good.” she says with a hint of a smile.
"Roast Boar forgives much," Daxiana chuckles in agreement, "Hopefully we'll have a chance to see some truly lovely hills, woods and more in the stolen lands. The kiss of the wind as it brings the scent of pine to your nostrils while you gaze at the clouds playing over the greenery before you, now that's a feast too, one for the heart and senses." Then lest anyone think she's too romantic "And we get to chase bandits out of the place. That'll be fun too."
A proud look escapes but she has the good grace to smile as she explains "Tracking, Exploring, Hunting, or shooting at Poachers who don't know how to responsibly TO hunt is a weekend for me. Mind you've been known to let the last go now and then, but recently? Had this idiot killing a doe, a pregnant doe at that."
Allandír replies with a one-shouldered shrug. "If poachers trespassed on the lands of Kyonin, they would be fortunate indeed merely to be, ah, shot at. And I can see that a ranger would indeed be an asset in the Stolen Lands, which as I understand it are a trackless, mostly-unmapped wilderness."
"My fine elf, you need another mead, or perhaps your first one." He looks about for one of the servers. "Hey, serving boy, we need a strong mead for my friend over here. Make it snappy." Then, turning back to Allandir he offers a hand, "Brand, just Brand, what do you go by my friend? And why the long face?"
Allandír gives a small nod of acknowledgement and a wry smile. "One of the difficulties in a longer lifespan is the greater accumulation of sorrows - but you are right, my troubles are my own and no excuse for being poor company."
Nobody here knows or cares about your past. Enjoy the moment.
He accepts the drink from the server and raises his glass in thanks to Brand. Mead, being sweet, is infinitely preferable to the elf's palate than the beer that so many humans seem to insist on poisoning themselves with. "A toast, then? Let us say to, ah, new beginnings and a fresh start. I am Allandír Dinúvriel and I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Just Brand. And you as well, Iolandra." He nods at the follower of the Green Faith in greeting, before returning his attention to the ranger.
"I'm afraid I missed your name when you introduced yourself earlier."
Allandír replies with a one-shouldered shrug. "If poachers trespassed on the lands of Kyonin, they would be fortunate indeed merely to be, ah, shot at. And I can see that a ranger would indeed be an asset in the Stolen Lands, which as I understand it are a trackless, mostly-unmapped wilderness."
At that daunting challenge, her eyes light up a bit, "Should be a lot of fun exploring it."
He accepts the drink from the server and raises his glass in thanks to Brand. Mead, being sweet, is infinitely preferable to the elf's palate than the beer that so many humans seem to insist on poisoning themselves with. "A toast, then? Let us say to, ah, new beginnings and a fresh start. I am Allandír Dinúvriel and I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Just Brand. And you as well, Iolandra." He nods at the follower of the Green Faith in greeting, before returning his attention to the ranger.
"I'm afraid I missed your name when you introduced yourself earlier."
"That'd be twice then," A bit amused he missed it when the second had been to him personally, "Just call me Daxiana, Dax if we end up traveling together. Nice to meet you Alli..."
And then something about his name kicks in, "Allandír Dinúvriel? I know that name..." And she gapes at him, "You're the elf who seduced cousin Elinor away." Rather than outraged, she seems fascinated, like one might if they had heard about a notorious outlaw only to find said outlaw in the same public bathhouse, "How is she? I'm not supposed to talk about her according to her folks, but to hell with that. It's not like she ceased to exist just because distant relations wanted to marry her off to some tight ass of Lebeda line like a breeding mare. Hell, I'm kind of impressed. But it has to be hard on her on you both. How is she?" Eyes eager to know "Don't fear, I'll not tell cousin Karl. He doesn't think much of me anyway."
And it is clear, that though she did not announce it but once, by her use of cousin, and her own features not so alien from Elinor's own that Daxiana is a Medvyed
Nobody here knows or cares about your past, is that right?
There is a moment - just a fraction of a fraction of a second, not measurable by any instrument that Golarion has the technology to manufacture - when Allandír's eyes narrow as he reaches in vain for the power he once wielded in order to incinerate Daxiana where she sits. The possibility that this might be some sort of sick joke with the specific purpose of getting under his skin, dissolves as he sees the frank innocence with which the ranger asked her questions; and the tension dissipates even before anyone watching could even truly know it was there.
(Dax sees it though; oh, yes. A ranger knows the difference between predator and prey. Even if the look is gone so suddenly she might question, after the fact, if it was real.)
She doesn't know. Her own cousin, and they never told her.
The elf draws in a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "To your first point, now that you have met me: exactly how capable do you think I would be of, ah, 'seducing' your cousin Elinor?" The metaphorical air-quotes around the word are tinged with a sardonic bitterness.
"As to your question..." He gives her a look of pity, knowing that he is the bearer of bad tidings. "I would be a poor husband indeed to be here, seeking death on some, ah, madcap errand in the Stolen Lands, if she were still alive, would I not?"
He lets his words sink in.
Daxiana's hand goes to her mouth, that might be the most 'lady like' gesture she's made all night. She covers not a smile, but a look of stunned surprise and then sorrow.
"I'm... oh I'm sorry, they never told. My..condolences. I barely knew her but I always admired her standing up for her ...oh well." For a moment she feels she might cry for a woman she only met once or twice when very young. Then? She raises a glass, "To your late wife, sir. Courageous in ways few noble women ever are. Love over empty expectation. True passion over a shadow of empty obligation. To Elinor!" She means it too.
Not trusting himself to speak right away, Allandír gives a quick nod and raises his glass in reply to Dax.
Some moments pass before he is ready to resume conversation. "I would not have taken you for a Medvyed from your words or clothing - you strike me as, ah, more at home away from court." One corner of his mouth turns up in a smile. "That was intended as a compliment, although it may not present itself as one."
Not trusting himself to speak right away, Allandír gives a quick nod and raises his glass in reply to Dax.
Some moments pass before he is ready to resume conversation. "I would not have taken you for a Medvyed from your words or clothing - you strike me as, ah, more at home away from court." One corner of his mouth turns up in a smile. "That was intended as a compliment, although it may not present itself as one."
She actually smiles at that, a chuckle too soon after the talk of loss seems a bit .. callous so she sticks to a smile to match his, "I'll take it as one. In truth, I thought you might throw the drink in my face rather than toast though I did mean it kindly to honor her. You've read me right. I am 'at home away from Court'. Much to my own family's lament. My clothing is practical because when there was a call for heroes, I thought protective leathers might be smarter than a grandball dress... also, I don't really like grandball dresses that much. Perhaps that's why it is so easy to toast your late wife. She's braver than I. I'm using this as a reason to run away from something, some THINGS anyway, big courts I don't want to go to, suitors that interest me not, and relations that talk of how our House honors the old ways but have become as stuffy as any Lebeda or as scheming as any Surtova... with apologies to any about of those houses here but that is how some see them. I am running away from something, your late wife, my distant cousin, ran TOWARDS you. That strikes me as braver." a moment she looks lost in a kind of melancholy, then she shakes it off, "Of course, if I kill enough bandits, I doubt anyone will call me a coward to my face."
She glances around at the others, "And I'm probably boring you good folks to tears. So, barons and baronesses the lot of you, what are you hoping for once you get those fancy titles or positions? A manorhouse with heated baths? Getting to design crests and mottos for the heraldry of your new houses for your heirs to enjoy? Maybe a few tavern songs praising the good you've done?"
Aelbourne listens to the byplay between Allandír and Daxiana with interest. "With the lot of us meeting for the first and then being thrown together to do something this important it's best to know if there's going to be a conflict of interest", although everything seems to be fine.
He's drawn out of his revelry by Dax' question "For me, just getting a chance to put paid to some of these bandits would be enough for me" You know with scorn he tosses on the word bandit that it must be something personal. A moment later it's made clear "Bandits chased my family and I off our homestead and back into Restov proper when I was a boy. When I was old enough I joined the city guard to bring those who prey on others to justice. This mission is just an extension of that."
He tosses back his drink and sighs "Sorry to bring everyone down with my problems, but what about you? What brings you to answer this "call for heroes?"
He's drawn out of his revelry by Dax' question "For me, just getting a chance to put paid to some of these bandits would be enough for me" You know with scorn he tosses on the word bandit that it must be something personal. A moment later it's made clear "Bandits chased my family and I off our homestead and back into Restov proper when I was a boy. When I was old enough I joined the city guard to bring those who prey on others to justice. This mission is just an extension of that."
He tosses back his drink and sighs "Sorry to bring everyone down with my problems, but what about you? What brings you to answer this "call for heroes?"
"Payback and reclaiming a lost home is nothing I'd scoff at," She assures him.
"The chance to make a good song my good fellow. End some bandits, fight some monsters, create our own little country and have the whole thing put to song. We shall be heroes to the people." Brand says chasing his words with a quaff of mead.
A grin there, "I like how you think, Sirrah. As for me?
I think folks heard my reason, or at least my alluding to it. Lots of pressure for a young woman of the Houses to marry, and really, if I had to have tea with one more perfumed fop this year, I was ready to lose my...well, not lady like to say." Amusment, "Also, it just sounded intriguing, a challenge, and one that would do some good as the big fellow says, at that. Gave me an excuse for a break from my family for a wee bit. Now did I know it would lead to possible land ownership and a title? No, but that's not a bad perk." She grins "Might even pacify my parents I suppose not that I care." She looks at the others, "How about the rest of you?"
"Honestly, a chance to travel, explore, and try to further the balance of the natural world. Development is necessary, but harmony is as well." Iolandra replies with a shrug.
"Honestly, a chance to travel, explore, and try to further the balance of the natural world. Development is necessary, but harmony is as well." Iolandra replies with a shrug.
Daxiana raises a glass to all that, though some of it, she's sure, is spiritually deeper than she is learned enough to comment on, "The terrain should be beautiful if I hear right, and assuming we get the land as our own, we should strive to keep it so I think."
She admits, "Of course, If there's no a tavern for a hundred plus miles we might need to have one built eventually."
"I did say balance," Iolandra says with a smile. "I'm not opposed to a tavern or some other comforts for the people around us."
At the smile and the assurance of a Tavern, she jests, "We can name if the Glenn and Gin, have some fancy vine and tree designs in the wood work. Mmm or maybe the Oak and Ale?"
"I'm sure there's plenty of time to settle on one." Iolandra replies with a chuckle
"I'm sure there's plenty of time to settle on one." Iolandra replies with a chuckle
"Something to pass campfire hours by with," Dax conceded with a smile.
She glances over at some of the others who were here before she was again as they've been on the quiet side.
The elf gives a lopsided smile, having used the time to recover his composure. "Count me as one who likes to be able to go back to a soft bed and a warm bath after spending time outdoors at one with nature. Of course, nature and civilisation need not be, ah, mutually exclusive. Back in Kyonin, for instance..."
He trails off. I didn't say 'back home' or 'back where I'm from' - that's interesting.
He shakes his head, although the hood probably means that the movement is less visible. "Either way, dispersing bandits and creating something that good people can be a part of sounds like a worthwhile cause."
As her gaze once again passes over the more silent members at the table, Iolandra once again notices the disdainful, purple-themed gnome giving everyone superior looks, her curiosity peaked.
With dinner having been served and all the tables cleared by the servants, talk seems to drift to Lady Aldori's announcement. Looking around to size up the competition you notice a couple of different groups who seem to standout, even in this lot. One such group is a group of four mercenaries seated across the great hall from you. Each wears a suit of distinctive blackened plate armor and helm, which they do not remove, even during the feast.
This band is known as the Iron Wraiths. The Wraiths are an experienced band of mercenaries who make a show of never removing their armor in public, leading to speculation that they are really wraiths underneath.
Next to them is another table where an irate nobleman, dressed in finery, berates a cowed underling while others look on in wary silence.
The talk at your table settles into speculation on what's going to happen next. Maegar muses over the rim of a wine glass "I've heard through the grapevine that the Host and I are going to be sent south into the Dunsward to establish a settlement and from there treat with the centaurs there. They've become quite fractious of late and have a great distrust of us "two legs" He sets his glass on the table and sighs "What do you lot intend to do with your charter?"
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"Say Allandir, you seem to be a pretty knowledgeable fellow. Any idea who those guys are?" Brand asks not quietly gesturing at the mercs with a turkey leg.
"Our charter? Why I'm going to kill those that need to be killed. Then hopefully find me a good lass to marry, settle down on a good plot, and have lots of children. My mother will join us and put to song all the deeds of her son and his merry band while my children listen raptly." Brand says to Maegar with a broad grin.
Are untrained checks ok for these? Doesn't matter.
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Daxiana also is clueless on who is who here, but she knows she doesn't care for servants being abused. Her eyes narrow on the noble berating his underling, but she does nothing... for now.
The talk at your table settles into speculation on what's going to happen next. Maegar muses over the rim of a wine glass "I've heard through the grapevine that the Host and I are going to be sent south into the Dunsward to establish a settlement and from there treat with the centaurs there. They've become quite fractious of late and have a great distrust of us "two legs" He sets his glass on the table and sighs "What do you lot intend to do with your charter?"
"Centaurs? There's a kick...hopefully not literally. I'm no social butter fly, but maybe see if one group of them wants to trade? Helps if you learn what they like that Restov can send down cheap and what they have to offer that you can make coin selling back up to Restov maybe? Over my head."
She chuckles at Brand's plans, "That's sweet, and you take after your mother, good man. I've admitted I actually want a bit of distance from my own family, or at least the suitors they send. But as to Maegar's question..." She thinks on it, she really did not expect this amazing offer and didn't come with a plan, "Well, Iolandra Harmony with nature idea sounds good to me, as does Allindar's desire for a nice bed. Add that tavern and we've got some nice outlines. If I wanted to get fancy?"
She closes her eyes, and tries to visualize, "Fine, we set up a place for residences, a tavern, maybe a shrine or other sacred spot to be respected, a shop or two for outlying farmers and craftsman to visit and trade. Now, if it starts to grow, then I'd reserve slices of green, or maybe a belt of it, every here and there. Call them parks or just leave them wild entirely if folks won't be fools about it, if it ever became a city descendents would find it a fine thing to have green areas they could get back in touch with. Perhaps set up watch towers, nothing fancy, wood would do, where you could station men to sound alarm in case of bandits, feral beasts on an attack or fire, make folks feel a bit more secure. If you can get a tie to a river, or what not, trade would be good." She ponders "Now, folks will always want wood for building and they're terrible lazy about it. Most folks won't go 3 miles for a tree if they can go two yards, and damn what that leads to for destroying natural beauty. SO, I'd probably reserve some land for long term tree PLANTING, and harvesting. You cut a tree down, two seeds planted in the place, and ye stagger it. Won't do muuch good in the immediate, but in ten years plus, you'll still have a nearby 'crop' of wood to keep building on. Course, if you're so fortunate to find a quarry, then hello stone. So I'm just guessing. Folks being expected to restrain themselves deserves a reward, so there should be things for the communmity. Dancehalls, more taverns, hell, a brothel maybe to let some lumberjacks blow off steam as long as those what work there are treated as people not property."
Her eyes drift back to the noble berating the underling, "People should treat people with respect when possible. Don't reflect well on ye when you bully someone, be it with muscle or station."
Iolandra is clearly more than a little impressed by Daxiana's take on things, especially since it was seemingly off the top of her head. It seemed their venture had quite a lot of promise to it already.
Following the other woman's gaze, her eyes narrow at the man mistreating his underling.
"Say Allandir, you seem to be a pretty knowledgeable fellow. Any idea who those guys are?" Brand asks not quietly gesturing at the mercs with a turkey leg.
"Hmmm..." The elf purses his thin lips for a moment as he looks in the direction Brand has indicated.
"Those gentlemen in armour are, I believe, known as the Iron Wraiths: an experienced band of mercenaries who make a show of never removing their armor in public. There is some, ah, speculation that they are really wraiths underneath - although given that wraiths are, by their nature, incorporeal, I doubt they could meaningfully interact with the armour. Although stranger things have been known."
His eyes narrow as he moves on. "As for the, ah, so-called gentleman berating the servants, I believe I recognise him - if only by reputation - as Baron Hannis Drelev. He is one of those skilled political creatures who fancies that their own status depends on diminishing those beneath them." His voice drips with disdain. "As I understand it, he considers himself something of a bravo with the sword, although I would not be able to judge that." He gives Dax a cautionary look. "As offensive as you find his conduct, and believe me I share your opinion, I would think twice before building to any, ah, confrontation."
At the talk of centaurs, his curiosity is picqued and his mood visibly improves. "Ah, I shall be sorry to miss out on that expedition. I think we will, alas, see little more than bandits in our part of the Green Belt."
He listens to Dax's plans with a mixture of amusement and respect: human ambition, their capacity to plan and build dreams out of the merest nothing, is something he both admires and sees the pitfalls of.
They lead such brief lives, but they flicker so *brightly!*
The fact that the mightiest nations in this part of the world are almost exclusively human-led is not lost on him.
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He gives Dax a cautionary look. "As offensive as you find his conduct, and believe me I share your opinion, I would think twice before building to any, ah, confrontation."
"Baron Hannis Drelev, eh?" She makes a note of it, and files it for later, "Fine, won't stir up trouble with him for now. But I may see who his servant is later and see if they want better working conditions. I've a distant relation who travels and has a sweet enough disposition"
At the talk of centaurs, his curiosity is picqued and his mood visibly improves. "Ah, I shall be sorry to miss out on that expedition. I think we will, alas, see little more than bandits in our part of the Green Belt."
"Bandits are fine by me. I might feel guilty shooting a centaur." She MIGHT be joking.
Allandír nods, a rare smile crossing his battered face as Dax takes his advice and decides to retaliate obliquely at the nobleman, rather than cause a scene here and now. "That seems like a sensible course of action."
"Bandits are fine by me. I might feel guilty shooting a centaur." She MIGHT be joking.
Daxiana's remark - and possible joke - is timed just as he takes a sip of mead, which he promptly splutters on unceremoniously. Giving the unblushing noblewoman a reproving look - you know what you did - he turns his attention to the halfling with ink-stained fingers who has been watching all the proceedings but saying very little herself.
"Did you travel far to get here this evening?"
"Bandits are fine by me. I might feel guilty shooting a centaur." She MIGHT be joking.
Daxiana's remark - and possible joke - is timed just as he takes a sip of mead, which he promptly splutters on unceremoniously. Giving the unblushing noblewoman a reproving look - you know what you did - he turns his attention to the halfling with ink-stained fingers who has been watching all the proceedings but saying very little herself.
Daxiana dimples trying to look innocent, and failing.
For her part, while he talks to the halfling, looks at the woman in hide armor, "I'm Daxiana, nice to meet you. Beaut of a scar there along your midriff, hope the fellow who gave it to you is worse off."
Iolandra watches the exchange, also curious about their other companions.