Bartolo Talbot's page

Have a great game, everyone! Thank you for the consideration and hopefully see you around!

Just checking in - I've updated my character sheet with what I believe is the final version as well - Shopping takes a while!

I've got the sheet going on now! I've changed things so that there's significantly more skills and they're more applicable. I've also leaned more into the, uhm, enjoying life concept of the character - he's definitely not a toned combatant, but the big, burly, bearded Taldane nobleman demanded a high Str score! No need for the Giant's Belt, though.

The key thing is, to avoid potential skill/concept overlap, I've tried to avoid anything that deals with physical subterfuge. Providing a distraction while said subterfuge is happening, however, absolutely.

Rose's story is based around an interpretation that strict adherence to ancient customs for a merchant family means the women can have no possessions and essentially work for the family, allowed to live among their wealth but never owning any part of it themselves. That might not be canon but it's what was established for this story. As a result this has led to a theme of female Talbots rebelling against this through time and she is just the latest one - hoping to be the last. Her mother disappearing after such an act of protest triggered her becoming a vigilante (that is nearing being revealed in the near future) and starting a countermovement of which the full scope isn't known yet.

If Bartolo is an established troublemaker and outcast like her then I can see them getting along well despite the above. Maybe he's even involved with this more shady, underground faction she runs. If that interests you we can work out some details by PM.

Sounds pretty accurate. While Bartolo might be very similar to the "young nobleman" at first glance, being loud, proud and direct, he has the wealth of worldview in his experience. He's leaned on his noble reputation to get away with being contrarian, and the skills he learned in the Kitharodian Academy (The most prestigious bardic college in Oppara) have aided in that regard.

and it matters not what people are, but what they can do for their compatriots! His (aunt?) disappearing, might've been the last drop.

I'm also interested about the underground faction in question - part of the skill acquisition was a set of skills (and gear) that make Bartolo an excellent transporter of goods, messages, and potentially people.

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"I wholeheartedly agree about the wickendness around us! And that is why I'm here, working to stop the very same people, Lady Espinosa, instead of discussing politics in the tavern.", Bartolo concurs, before pausing, and crossing his gaze with Olivia's. "Madam, you make me proud to be your compatriot and your companion. Though I'd rather you didn't fall for a long time yet, as Taldor needs people of your cut."

-------

"With you, that makes three of us hoping that I'm wrong!", Bartolo replies as he bows towards the Archbanker, rising up with a radiant grin. Listening to the negotiations with a semi-quiet bout of 'hrms' and muttered 'of course's, the man rubs his beard at the request. The thief's well-being as a favour is a bad trade if I've seen one. But the highways being safe and the good graces of Lothedaar - that is an excellent outcome.

"I'd say good folk disappearing around Stachys merits an look on its own, Archbanker.", he adds, giving Amandine a nod to indicate his eagerness to help. "And I certainly wouldn't mind a visit to see what's the cause of Jambis' reticence to respond."

Back at the carriage.

"Bah! As far as dreams go, Lady Espinosa, yours is the most beautiful of all, and I applaud you for it.", the man raises his hands in surrender. "I'm merely a cynical realist, and all too often I've seen that even when one gives all their heart, and it the end of their journey, needs still beckon them." Bartolo pauses his eyes on the paladin.

"Unlike the Heavens, we're too oft beset by problems outside of our own make, and unlike them, too, there's fair few more demons, devils and bloodsuckers in our midst." He purses his lips. "And hence, while I'd never refuse help when I can give it, I'd much rather help a man learn to fish than go fish in his stead! Deeds, not intentions, are what we ought to be judged on!"

"Well you can hardly expect them to do something only out of the kindness of their hearts, madame.", Bartolo retorts at the jibe at the Abadarites. "Their tenets make it so it's at the very least reliable, and their terms understandable. Were it anyone else providing services that nobody else does, they'd skin the common folk the skin on their backs for a simple poultice, and force anyone else out.", he reasons. "That said, they aren't cheap, and an alternative would be preferable - assuming, of course, it's not some snake oil!"

-------

Finding himself a comfortable spot with good acoustics in the Count's Cravat, Bartolo spends little time to get a flagon of beer in his belly and start gesticulating wildly. "Hear ye, hear ye!", he roars in the tavern in a jovial voice, before raising his lute in the air, and strumming on the chords.

"I'd like to raise a glass, or a flagon, to my new benefactors.", he says, before taking a hand to the lute's strings. "I've travelled long, and travelled far. I've mostly, however, travelled drunk!", he shares, before clearing his throat. "But I've rarely seen a group as devoted to their lands, their people and the pursuit of what is right than the Ladies Betony of Stachys."

Waving his hand aside, he gestures towards the flagon, and furrows his brow. "But all that aside. We may be drinking for their health, but we also should be drinking!"

Basically - Organising a Party that underlines the stuff that the Betonys have done that the locals may notice is quite different from their situation.

Diplomacy, Favoured Terrain (may not apply): 1d20 + 10 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 10 + 2 = 23

"Frankly, from what I've personally seen, the strongest prison is that of the mind. If the woman is keen on making her escape, there's little point in binding her in a dim room and earning her envy.", the nobleman replies to the suggestion. "Were it me, I'd simply mention that were she to escape, she'd best not return for a couple of years."

Crossing his arms to furrow his brow at the knight, Bartolo's bolsterous voice retorts, "I'm the other type of cad, my Lady Espinosa! There's little that a political marriage can give me, that I'd want right now, and it would cost me personally far more than I'm willing to pay." Sighing deeply, he adds in a more firey tone, "Moping nobles should be aided in working for their land and people, not being shipped around as a prised mare to be won at a tourney! I'd certainly welcome a chat with the young woman, but only to help her see that the first person to stoke the flames of your ambition and grip their fate is themselves."

Dame is the female counterpart of Sir, usually, so I'd imagine she is simply a knight.

Bartolo brays dismissively at the mention of Dame Crabbe and her character. "Awful!", he shakes his head. "I can handle the lecherousness of an aged hag, that's not a worry. I could have a conversation with the young lady, one person annoyed with their kin with another."

Chuckling at Dro'gan's suggestion, the nobleman crosses his arms. "Bah! Considering my personal standing with my family, anyone marrying me will be met by poison, be it social or literal! Not to say, the only one arranging my marriage will be myself and my potential bride, whom I have no desire to meet just yet." Rubbing a hand across his trimmed beard, he adds. "Though, I'd be more than willing to play the part, should it be required. "

Snapping his finger for the follow-up, he nods. "True. I've always found that when one keeps their hands, minds and wits busy, malaise struggles to find the chance to schedule an appointment! There's nawt to say we shouldn't ask the young lady for her opinions and thoughts, as it's brutally obvious few others do."

In the morning, Bartolo is dressed up in his travelling attire as the letter from Amandine finds its way in his hands. Giving a long, scrutinising look at the woman, he sits down on the side of the couch and lets the lute hang next to him. A few minutes later, filled with the occasional chuckle and a loud grumble, he nods, turning the letter back over to Amandine. "Courts are courts, whether it's in Oppara, or in this overgrown countryside. Thank you for bringing me to speed, and I'll be sure to repay that in kind." Putting on his hat and curling the feather, he adds. "I'm off to Stachys. I've buildings to view, farms to inspect, and shinemakers to instruct. I'll prepare a list of what we may wish to present to the good count, were we keen to ask for his favour in aiding the town."

Not sure how I can aid Stachys at the moment, but the plan is to walk around and inspect pretty much everything from an economic point of view, and possibly see if the moonshiners are doing something wrong - which I plan on checking with a Knowledge roll. (Be it Nature, or even Engineering on their still). I can do one Profession(Merchant) roll a day to replace a regular Knowledge a day. The rest is just fluff, and he's probably passing through Onora's tavern on the way back to get a few drinks for the road and leave a sizeable tip of a couple of gold pieces.

At the announcement of the verdict, Bartolo stands up, barely containing his energy. "Excellent, clear and concise.", he claps his hands. "Now that matter of the day's concluded, and we've given the town it's fare of bread and circuses. I'll politely ask the keepers of the house to prepare the guest's premises." Rubbing his palms, he turns towards the rest. "We can endevour to solve the other, one may argue, more pressing issues plaguing this town, and they plague it well."

Bartolo shrugs as the peasants are corraled out of the manor, before scratching his beard. "It'd have probably been easier to adjourn somewhere for your decision. Can't say that I'd argue with their solution, banishment is good enough for the woman.", he harrumphs, but his facial expression suggests that he's not particularly invested in the courtly proceedings. Turning towards the bailiff, he flashes a white grin. "You seem to have the right idea.", he jests, before crossing his arms and looking back towards the ladies of the house.

"By all means, let's.", Bartolo replies, crossing his arms at Lucinia's answers. "There's no need to shiv verbal daggers at the woman before there's been a verdict! Lady Amandine, you seem to have a grasp on the situation, do inform me of duties I'd need to perform." And to think I'd get out of the courts in this place. Courts, death and taxes, it seems.

Me, the player, was also thinking of a similar concept to Dro'gan, but that'd not be anything remotely close to what Bartolo would think of doing. He's not disinterested with the idea of punishment, but he'd be the first to admit that he's not got the mind of a statesman, and besides, he's not the noble of these lands.

I do like the moral dilemmas one needs to do to do spycraft, though. Especially if we do have those dilemmas voiced in character!

The questioning leaves Bartolo with little compassion towards the woman. An unrepentant criminal. And here I thought frontier justice was alive. He furrows his brows, before Dro'gan bursts into his scathing tirade. Harrumphing in agreement with Chana, he shrugs his shoulders. "Truer words weren't spoken! I, for one, care not where we hold this trial, long as we agree on a judgement that takes care of the issue for good. While I don't count myself the final jury on character, madames, I agree that I've yet to spot a redeeming quality in this cad, bar her perseverance and utter lack of shame."

"Hah, capital! I rarely have an excellent time when I'm bound and at the mercy of a bunch of strangers, but I'd never judge a woman's preferences!". Bartolo chortles sarcastically at Lucinia's response. "So, so far your only virtue's honesty, and only that of the verbal variety." Tilting his head at Chana in agreement, he shrugs. "Were I a betting man, I'd wager she'd been counting on the goodwill and sentimentality of the country folk. Life's not as cheap here as in the big towns."

I think Onora's name comes from 'fish' or 'pisces'. But I may have been immature enough to laugh.

I mean, her defending herself is a part of the trial we've discussed above. Bartolo would love nothing more than to make a show, since it's important that we do look at least a bit official, but he's pretty serious in doing things right once they fall on his plate.

I don't think we oughta leave that to the crowd and their approval, since that's pretty bad long term, and we wouldn't want to become Galt.

I think we should stick to Olivia's 9 point plan, but we should talk to her, first and foremost, prior to the whole affair. If stuff starts to become less obvious as time goes on, we'll decide it from there.

"Ah. This isn't an average hoodlum.", Bartolo retorts as the drunken snores of the intoxicated bandit reach his ears. "This is an incompetent hoodlum." Rubbing a hand in his beard, he leans on the wall. "Frankly, I agree with Chana. If she can't or won't work, she'd be best out of our collective hair. Execution leaves a bad taste in my mouth, and leaving her here to abuse the locals is bad for everyone." Shrugging, Bartolo turns to Onora. "On that, the mathematics don't check out. Why make it one person's job to overlook another one who doesn't want to work in the first place? If we had a slew of petty criminals, then of course."

Sighing, he looks around for a drink for a brief moment, before sighing. Well that's looking like a long affair. "I say we wait for her to wake, and give her a chance to speak. I'm not one for speculations of this variety."

"Ha! I'd speculate that anyone with our goals may indeed be of unorthodox mental state, Lady Espinosa, present company included.", Bartolo replies smiling at the Code. "Criminals in rural lands like these can be anything you can imagine, so I, for one, won't be ruminating as to what they are." Leaning back onto his chair with a croak, rubbing at his bruised ribs, he snaps his fingers at the rest. "Ah! Perhaps as a point of gratitude, we can present the Lash's head to Miss Piscum to mount in her establishment. A fine present, and will sit well with the good folk of Stachys. And I could do with a drink or twelve." Standing up as quickly as he crashed down on the chair, he cracks his back with a thundering noise, picking up the hammer at his side. "I'll go get ready, and shall you need your armour mended, do say so. I deplor sitting on my hands!"

Assuming Olivia mentions her ponderings on the holding of courts, Bartolo will try and help with his own, admittedly limited, knowledge of Nobility.
Knowledge(Nobility), Favoured Nation: 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 6 + 2 = 17

Turning to the two hunters, Bartolo scratches his head. "My good men! Perhaps you can tell other hunters in Lord Okerra's retinue of the beast's downfall. Leaving the body here and taking merely a trophy is insulting to both good huntsmanship, and good mercantilism. And manticore hide boots may be the talk of the town."

A hearty laugh leaves Bartolo's mouth as Dro'gan voices his worries. "As someone who's never paid much attention to history, I know this - history is done by the bold and the foolish. Those who are too cautious, it forgets, as they tend to fail to achieve anything of note." Shifting the grip on his hammer. "Though, there is some merit in your sentiment, as much as the blood pumps when one fights, to take care of the town is our main objective, if not our main goal." Turning to Amandine, he nods. "Good then! I'd feel a lot better if I'm not treated like a mushroom!"

Oh! Sure, I was offering one of the CLW's to be used on either of you. I unfortunately only get two spells/day, the downside of being able to swing a hammer like that. I gave one to Chana already, although I think I can spare the second one for Amandine. It's definitely not beyond Bartolo to sit and enjoy his well earned wounds.

I'd also be happy to invest in a wand of Cure Light Wounds, which I feel might last longer here than in other campaigns.

EDIT: And here I forgot paladins had Lay on Hands... nevermind!

Wincing for a moment when the creature's death is suggested, Bartolo sighs, then shrugs with a grin. I suppose a trophy of our deeds might be better. Especially if the local see their terror dead. Seeing Dro'gan seethe, he gives the man a long look, before bursting out in laughter. "I've never met a man so angry to be alive, my friend! I may just add that."

Raising an eyebrow, whether one of respect, or curiousity, at Amandine's refusal, he turns to Chana. His hand glows with harmonious, lively buzz. "And I'd be happy to help, Lady Chana! You dispelled my thoughts that my fighting styles were unorthodox amongst nobility. Ha! Grand!", he says, as the hawk's wounds close. Pointing the same magic at himself, the worst of the brunt of the Iron Lash's attack disappears. "I could care less about the head and its display, Lady Chana. Though I'm sure the tanners and craftsmen of Merrat would love the chance to use their skills and make a few excellent cloaks from manticore hide. Give them something to brag amongst the other tradesmen of the land, no?" Ushering the two hunters to him, he starts lifting the Lash's body on his back. "We could strap it atop the carriage?"

All flavour, don't expect there to be anything except bragging rights for the merchant, but I imagine that might boost their confidence.

Tapping his chin, he turns towards the hawk. "I'd hate to keep in nature more than this brisk event, though one wonders, if the Lash has terrorised the countryland for years, there are perhaps the bodies of those hunters less skilled. Or less resilient. We may want to give them and their families rest, before the bandits of the land hear word and rummage through the beast's den."

Wiping away the blood from his hands, Bartolo shoulders the hammer with a wide grin, though he winces midway as his wounds continue bleeding on the ground. "Hah! Sweet dreams, my bestial friend.", he laughs, bending over to take a deep breath. "A captured beast like that is sure to yield us not only money,", he waves his hand dismissively, "but also put us as capable hunters amongst the local hunters."

Wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth, he closes his fist as words of arcane power echo from his mouth, a shimmering, melodic glow. While still bruised, battered and bleeding, the noble seems to be running on adrenaline. "Lady Amandine, Miss Chana? I'll extend the offer of mending your wounds, in the hope someone does the same to me in the future." His mouth opens to show his bloodstained teeth. "Though I'll also be grateful, shall you tell me to be selfish. I can't remember the last time I had my hide as scoured."

Thanks, Chana!

Feeling the magic giving him an advantage, Bartolo raises his hammer above his head, before bringing it down onto the Iron Lash's ribcage with fury, the blow shaking even the great beast's hide. "Well, I've rarely had anyone eager to stand up after the first blow. Seems the beast needs a little more dissiasion!"

Grinning, Bartolo lifts the hammer once more, eager to bring it down. "Now that's a foe!", he shouts. His wounds seem to distract him, however, as the blow is much less focused than the previous one.

Pretty much, I thought it'd be fitting for Bartolo's rather direct approach in some situations. And, if we capture the Iron Lash alive, it might get us some good reputaion amongst the rural county.

I believe I'd be able to charge there, assuming that there's no difficult terrain on the way.

The beast roaring in seemingly understandable Taldane seems to shock Bartolo for a moment, though Olivia's language gives him a radiant smile. "Well I for one would like to be undevoured!", he roars out as he breaks into a thundering, heavyset sprint, the massive hammer in his hands rising up, before the man brings it down with force enough to knock down a horse.

Bartolo nods, leaning towards Olivia. "I have often been told I can be insufferable. And I'd feel I'd rather volunteer to be the bait, were there to be that part of the plan."

Nodding thoughtfully at Lord Okerra's negotiations, Bartolo happily takes a quiet moment to listen into the man's intentions, as well as his new associates' goals. A good man is hard to find in here, so I've heard.

"Matters of money are only half of our responsibility as shepherds of the people entrusted in our care."

"Too bloody right!", he can't help but gasp out, only to smile widely, crossing his arms. "I do apologise for my forwardness, your Grace, but you're a credit to your family for choosing it instead of chasing fortune or glory. And as a former child, and currently childish - After a certain age, there's little that helps less than orders, and little that helps more than an honest conversation."

Seeing Amandine quieting her voice, he nods. "Brilliant! I've prepared the groundwork plans, and I'd be more than happy to collaborate with your labourers."

"Why, thank you, Lidia!", Bartolo exclaims as he descends from the carriage, patting his dented breastplate. Spotting the young girl with the sword, a wide smile spreads on his face, as he bows politely at Baron Okerra. Ah. That reminds me of my childhood. Except for the books and my father being present. "Baron Okerra, it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. Lord Bartolo Talbot, at your service." Nodding once again, he takes a step back.

A Lion of Taldor., a thought crosses Bartolo's mind. A humble entertainer that is not, yet what it truly means remains to be seen., Bartolo's eyebrows tilt upwards as the busker quotes the tenth rule of his order. Spy games. Good, there's little worse the meatheaded games of force the ones in charge would do. Where force won't work, subtlety will, or so I'm told.

"None taken, Gandro.", Bartolo replies. With a smirk, he adds, "Though, I beg you, permit me to patch that suit when you have a moment. There's little more embarrassing than a Master Steward in poor attire."

I seem to recall the servant clothes had some holes in them, and minor repairs are very useful!

Nodding alongside Chana's enthusiasm, the large nobleman claps his meaty hands together. "The Iron Lash, indeed!"

As I was following Dro'gan initially, I'll go ahead and stay further outside, alongside Chana?

Bartolo nods thoughtfully at the words regarding Lady Allis' treatment. "Bah, there's little that grates me more than the picking at each other in high court. Part of the reason why I try to avoid it much as I can.", he nods at the woman, leaning on the wall to continue listening in. As much as I'd want to ask about Lady Allis, I'm afraid the story's end is not a particularly happy one.

At Stachys, Bartolo spreads his arms theatrically. "It's not the first time I've been called a something, true. Though I've been involved in trade and business all my life. "Gold flows faster than water.", he tilts his head. At Onora's suggestion, he snaps his fingers. "Terrific! One more person to be willing to aid us. Perhaps the Iron Lady would be interested in getting the Iron Lash's hide?", he smiles.

I agree with the farms being the first one we select, but I'd argue we'd want the market as second. First to get that sweet, sweet discount, and second since that's what Bartolo would reason for!

In the morning, Bartolo's awoken by Dro'gan's juggling practice. Rising to meet up to the occasion, he gives the man a long glance. "Breakfast with entertainment! Hah! My friend, you spoil us.", he laughs. Moving to retrieve the whiskey and the sundries for the domovoi, he puts three large glasses alongside the liquor on a plate on the floor. Taking a few feet backwards to sit on the ground next to the juggler, he conjures a lute in his hands and begins playing an upbeat melody.

Diplomacy Aid to get the domovoi on our side: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (13) + 10 = 23

Bartolo sends a grin at Chana. "Please! When you're trading, you see places that work, and places that don't, and you learn to tell where the difference lies." Tapping his chin, he nods. "For the latter, we'd need labourers, which we can easily find in the Beggarwood, but they'd need food, and Stachys can barely afford its own mouths, let alone any new ones."

The question regarding money seems to brighten Bartolo's mood. "There's always ways to make money! Almost as many as how to spend it.", he laughs. "I'd have actually hoped you would be able to provide a loan for the needs, but seeing as how this isn't the case - there's bound to be some nobles with more money than sense than can be persuaded to loan us the initial investment, which then we can return once Stachys is back to its proverbials. Failing that, I have enough for a cart and a driver, but that's would take an unreasonable amount of time." His eyebrows lower for a moment. "You mentioned you have contacts in Meratt, did you not?"

Ah. Not afraid to speak her mind. Brilliant., he grins as Onora rolls her eyes. "Bah! Any shop's better than no shop.", Bartolo replies strongly, crossing his arms. "There's no plagues, no pestilence and no barbarian hordes pillaging the fields, Onora, and if that's the bloody case, there's no reason why we can't get this village into order."

Clearing his throat, he draws a line on a piece of parchment. "First things first. Food. We need to clear the rubbish that's in the irrigation canals, pull the old stumps, and put some markerstones." The quill moves on the paper with lightning speed.

"Second - no merchant would come to a place where the roofs are leaking and their cart will break on the road. If we get this village looking like people are alive, half the problems will disappear on their own. If we pave the main square, there's no reason why we couldn't hold a weekly market." He pauses, scratching his beard, then scribbles more notes onto his ledger. "Third - carting the rye to Pensaris is an utter waste of everyone's time, especially when there's a windmill here that can be fixed, and we don't have to build a shining new one."

Pulling out an old piece of paper from the ledger's earlier pages, seemingly ripped out carelessly out of a century old book, he slams it on the desk. "And finally, Ladies Betony, one of the reasons why I decided to detour to Stachys. My great-great-grandmother Lavery wrote about the old pumphouse in here, and how they replaced the old magical engine with oxen." He waves away an insect. "I'd planned to ask for Lotheed's famed magical prowess to aid me in its repair, but now I feel like I don't want to work with the man." Standing up from his chair, Bartolo stretches. "Now, then, funding. I can field half the upfront cost of the farm clearing, but I hate doing half a job. Although...", he rubs his chin. "I'd dare suggest that a manticore pelt can easily fetch a good enough price to match the second half, so we should have the money in two days."

Bartolo obviously doesn't know about Okerra's promise.

Just as a note though, Bartolo has a beard (despite the default Paizo picture), which is pretty much a vestige of the noble classes in Taldor. That covers everyone who's even slightly noble, though.

Also, meant to post yesterday, yet I didn't. Sorry!

By Abadar, this is a sorry lot. Why would someone suck their peasants that dry, I'm still yet to understand. Bartolo's reaction to the village remains partically hidden behind a polite mask, and only as he's walked into the tavern, he shakes his head. "Ah. One often ponders, if there's merit in treating lords the same way sea folk treat their captains.", he shares, before extending his massive palm towards Onora. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Onora Piscum, Big Boss of Stachys.", he says with a smile. Carting it to be milled and returned here. Hrm. That's at least two lost days...

At Amandine's latest question, Bartolo grins. "Now that's a question, madam! I was about to ask the same one.", he nods. "I'll cover whatever we're getting today, as a thank you for your hospitality.", he waves wildly. "Though if you'd pardon my bluntness, Stachys seems to have fallen on hard times, and not only does this look irresponsible on us as its neighbours - it's trebly moreso horrid on its inhabitants, and there's no heavens-darned excuse for that." Reaching into his bag to draw out a well-worn ledger, an inkpen and a quill, he bites the quill's tip. Clearing his throat, the jovial noble's tone changes to a much more assertive note. "Let's how we can help Stachys help itself."

While the blade surprisingly draws little interest from Bartolo, the revelation about the domovoi seems to prompt his grin. "Ah. Clever fey. Bread and booze first, music later, as it should be!" Dismissing the intrument with a wave of his hand, he nods. "I can take care of keeping everyone's thirst sated, and if there's any old and torn clothes you were going to throw away, let me take a look at them", he adds. "To Stachys, then!"

Seeing that there isn't an obvious foe in the room, Bartolo lowers his hammer cautiously. "Huh. I suppose there isn't a tiger or something equally ridiculous down here. Though, this mystery just became a lot more fascinating than I thought! Ha!" Raising an eyebrow at Chana's question about the fey, he shrugs. "Frankly, you'd be the experts here. Though, I've heard a tale or two that fey do have a taste for joy and revelry, and that's one thing we have in common."

"Hala ere, hona hemen harridura!", he sings out, and a lute appears in his hand, offset by the massive hammer in his other hand. "Perhaps they'd appreciate us playing them a song, to show that they should come out?"

If someone confirms that there's fey, Bartolo will try and usher them out with a song. Which is a long shot, but, hey, who knows?

Bartolo scratches his beard at the mention of the uninvited guest. "Ah. So there is some credit to the rumours of a ghost inhabiting the Betony manor. If there was someone moving in a house I decided to inhabit after my demise, I'd start by politely asking them to leave first, too.", he smirks. "I suppose it'd be only fair if we went to take a look." Shouldering his hammer, he follows Dro'gan's tracking efforts. "In case the problem is more of the nail variety."

Bartolo laughs out, shouldering his earthbreaker. "I, in fact, completely agree, my friend. It's all in the wrist.", he says with a wink. "A fair few people are rather at ease when they see an opponent willingly disarming themselves. As the hammer's previous owner discovered." He lets the hammer rest on the ground. "Though, my experience in, hrm, the livelier parts of Taldor has taught me the value of improvisation."

He crosses his arms. "While I'm want to call myself worthy of the bardic colleges in Taldor, I've learned a few secrets over one or dozen cups of wine." Twirling his fingers in the air, and singing out a few phrases in ancient Taldan, a counterbass appears in his hand, body rested on the ground. "This, amongst its other uses, excels when you direly need to be a percussionist." Playfully giving out a quick strum on the deep-toned instrument, he closes his eyes and it disappears. Hand resting on the hammer once more, he shrugs. "My Shoanti souvenir is purely when direct force is necessary, and I have to give the people credit where credit's due, for that purpose there's no finer weapon."

RE: Backstory, I think Bartolo would mostly be himself in Meratt, as there's no need for him to hide, though he might present himself to be a merchant in the event where subtlety and hiding our identities is necessary.

Hearing Olivia's words once again, Bartolo nods enthusiastically alongside her words. "Ah! The Princess! Yes, that would make sense...", he clears his throat, letting the knight finish her speech. "I've always followed Her Royal Highness' political antics with great interest. Much better than the anemic existance of her peers, that's for sure!", he harrumphs as she's finished. "I'm a Talbot, first and foremost - if Taldor needs my help, I'll answer, Lady Espinosa. And, Aroden damnit, I'd much rather be helping than sitting around on my hands."

Eye open wide as the rat scuttles out of Chana's dress, Bartolo lets out a laugh. "It's a pleasure to meet you both, then. I can't say I've heard the finest things about Count Lotheed, though bloodshed does leave a bad taste in my mouth." His head tilting at the jester at his side, he slaps a heavy hand on his shoulder. "I can't say I've been a part of a revolution so far, my friend, so count me in!"

Leaning back, he clears his throat, only for the stern-faced woman to interrupt their conversation. "Was chasing the beast you as well? You're undoubtedly the most interesting thing that's happened in Merrat in the past century." He claps his hands approvingly, cracking his knuckles as he stands up. "It's a good thing my horse is still saddled, madam, I'm ready when you say.", he smirks.

For backstory - I imagine that Bartolo's backstory might be (in part) his actual backstory. DM Vayelan and I discussed that there was indeed an old trading route from the Talbots in Merrat he was planning to restore, and that's a reason for him to be there. Alternatively, if everyone having a fake identity is important - he could be some very minor noble friend of the Betony's who was invited over to help with house finances, I suppose?

Quick update, the guy who was supposed to replace me on call is quarantined since this morning, so it might be a bit longer before I can post. Still confident I can post today.

Sorry about the delay - I was updating my games yesterday, and I got called out for work, after I finished work. I'll try and get a response asap.

Just as he's about to depart, the words from Lady Olivia's mouth make him pause, and his eyes stare in the distance for a moment. He grunts out an unintegligible groan, then dismounts. "That... changes things.", he adds, nodding his head to join the others inside.

Once inside, the man's eyes mostly flicker quietly from face to face. Not crooks or people clever enough to buy a pedigree. Spies. As the veiled woman turns to him, he listens quietly, before answering. "Bah! Line my pockets and stay safe? If that was my goal, I'd still be eating off my father's hand!"

He sighs. "I came here, well, because it's close to Oppara. But also, because it was once a land of rich resources, brilliant craftsmen and bustling trade. Now, it's slowly rotting, with the farmers and merchants unable to afford the tools to do their bloody jobs, with the taxmen scalping them not to pay for roads, bridges and guards, but to line the Count's pocket!", he shares spitefully, before nodding at Chara's remark about the nobles. "That's exactly what I overheard at the Beggarwood, and exactly why I chose to come to you to offer my skills, rather than the Count." Unable to fight back a laugh, he nods enthusiastically, leaning back onto his chair.

"My first thought was that you were a trio of local commoners, choosing to better their home by claiming receivership of the Betony estate.", he relays. "And I wanted to warn you about the dangers of pretending to be a noble, which...", he laughs out. "Backfired spectacularly." He breathes out heavily. Espionage, cloaks and daggers and conspiracies. Wasn't what I expected in this backwater, but...

He leans forwards once more. "If you're planning on doing something about Merrat and Taldor, I'm behind you, coin and blade."

That's perfectly clear to me (the player), but the character was conceptually designed to be an intentional distraction in social encounters - the loud smokescreen for otherwise subtle characters, and going heavy was the idea. When you go big or go home, sometimes it's the latter!

The legal papers are a little irrelevant, since nobody wants to kick up a stink, true.

My thinking was that in Taldor, loud and large noblemen can get away with large amount of brashness and 'laddishness' and that being part of Bartolo's public persona was a theme I wanted to explore. However, someone swearing on their honour is (from my point of view) a massive, massive thing in a traditional, chivalrous place like Taldor - being an oathbreaker being worse than being dead, since when you're dead at least your family doesn't try and erase your existance.

All the information I've had so far was pointing towards a scam, until Bartolo recognised Olivia as a Vernisant, at which point he went to offer his assistance to the people affiliated with someone he's heard of having as having a similar mindset. The building of trust was supposed to be the relation to Betony, the desire to better Merratt and, most importantly, the oath.

Bartolo raises his eyebrows. "Bloody Aroden's rotting carcass! I swore that I'll keep whatever I found bloody secret, and I'll keep it a bloody secret regardless of your accusations." He snaps back. "And I don't need to see any documents any more than anyone else suspecting you would. Papers! What do you take me for, a taxman?"

Putting his fingers in his mouth, he lets out a whistle, and his horse joins him. "If I was to blackmail someone, I wouldn't go alone, disarm myself in front of them and tell them about it in person, would I?" Donning his cap, he mounts the tired horse.

I did pre-text that that he's noticed that, and he swore that he'll keep what he noticed a secret before any deals were mentioned. Explicitly so.

That said, you're the established team, and I'd hate to step on anyone's toes, so I'll give a summary post and then you can let me know if I should go.

I may have wall-of-texted here, but I was trying to reply to as many questions as possible! Sorry!

Bartolo lets out a thunderous laugh at Chana's question. "Tend the grounds, myself? Hah, Lady Betony, you're a character." The follow-up question leads him to ponderously rub his knuckles. Spreads his arms to the sides, as if feigning innocence, he adds a moment later, with a grin. "I've nothing to hide, but it's not a particularly interesting story. I'll keep it nice and brief.", he says. "I was formally invited by my father to join him at the Exaltation Gala, so, naturally I decided to go for a drink instead.", he adds. "A few hours later, I was in a particularly political mood, and I was discussing the utter idiocy that is the High Strategos' idea of a military conquest. I believe the words I used were,", he taps his lips, "'I've heard many idiots saying many idiocies, but going on a conquest for old glory's sake is the single dumbest idea in the history of Taldor."

He shrugs. "Unfortunately, I was rather loud and two individuals overheard my arguments, and decided to aggressively disagree by naming me a traitor, a coward and spineless bastard." Bartolo's grin widens. "I decided to dispute those accusations, and I left them rather speechless with my retort.", he points to a dent on his lute, looking suspiciously like a bitemark, "however, my drinking companion revealed them to be low-ranking officers of the Phalanx, and suggested the air in Meratt is excellent for the health." He sighs, shaking his head. "And, given what word I picked up regarding the Gala, I'm not planning on going back any time soon."

His eyes catching those of the swordwoman, he studies her face for a moment, before grinning knowingly. I'll bet, gnats to gold, that that right there's Vernisant's firstborn daughter. The one who ran away to be a knight. Looks close enough to him. "Can you imagine that, doing what your family expects of you?", he nods.

At Amandine's scrutinous gaze, Bartolo bites his lips. A veiled woman, her elven blooded cousin, with a nobleborn bodyguard higher in society than the noble family they purport to be. Add mysterious messengers with mysterious letters. There's a hand all the way to the wrist in some pie. The courtier smile disappears from Bartolo's face, as the nobleman locks his fingers together. "Thank you for the offer, madam.", he adds in a much more businesslike tone. "To be blunt, however. I could gladly take your offer, depart at dawn and keep all I've learned hidden until I die. This I swear, and it won't change." Exhaling loudly, he turns to the Betony estate. "For instance, the fact that you're claiming to be just arriving at an aging estate, yet you claim to lack the funds to restore. Or that I'm fairly certain that the only noble I've seen so far is assuredly not a Betony." He pauses. And here's hoping that they don't choose to attack. Four to one is rather unlikeable odds. A moment later, he adds. "The minor nobles in here may not pick up on that as quickly as I did, but eventually, they might."

Exhaling loudly, Bartolo crosses his arms. "I'd like to get some gold in my pocket and some connections in my books. From what I gathered, Merratt is currently being sucked dry in taxes, and I'd hate to restore the region only to have my money be funneled into some idiot's pocket. This could be my blood talking, but from where I'm standing, you'll profit off having a loud noble around, and I'll profit off not having to search for another place to start my organisation in." His smile grows smug once again. "And if you find a better accountant than I in Merratt, I'll eat my hat."

Extending his massive palm at the half-elf, he stares her right in the eyes. "Shall we strike a deal?"

Ugh. Meant to post on the weekend, but I'm in an essential field and was working all weekend.

I think I came out wrong - Bartolo was merely commenting that the house doesn't have any servants, hence why he's currently camping outside and waiting for the people to arrive. The idea that he'll be doing menial work himself would be doubt amuse him.

Returning the firm handshake gladly, Bartolo gives a wide smile at the noblewoman's mentions. Well, would you look at that. The noble may not be a noble, after all. Who'd have guessed that long-lost cousins spring up like mushrooms in times of turmoil. Can't be worse than the actual nobles, though, can they?

"The veil does little to hide your sharp mind, Lady Betony!", he says, before crossing his arms. "Word on the road is that the Betony cousins are back, and I thought it only fair to visit our once-upon-a-time trade partners.", he relays calmly. "That, and Oppara's a little...", he fixes his collar. "unwelcoming this time of year, and I decided that a vacation in Meratt is good for the humours." He raises his eyebrows knowingly. "And Meratt can do with a little help, I hear."

The travelling entertainer's notes, however, slightly darkens Bartolo's face. What a merry band of jesters we are., he thinks, before chuckling about the horse. "She already hates me as it is, Dro'gan, no need for her to start hating you as well." Though you should've mentioned the message for the 'Betonys', my simple travelling companion.

His eyes meet Olivia's, and the martial look of the woman clearly stirs him. And a warrior in courtly attire. His eyes glance down at the sword. Showing his palms in a wave, the man turns his signet ring in his palm to show it to the noble. "I'd be more than happy to tell you everything you'd like to know." He glances at the house, tapping away dirt from his trousers. "To start - I'm definitely more of a brandy man.", he flashes a smile.

Not sure what I can give about the Talbots, except what's in the Player's Guide for Noble Scion, which is pretty much all I know about them, too - businessmen who don't like showing off, don't like adventurers, and don't like change.

An exhausted looking, slightly aged gray mare is tied shoddily to a post near the doorstep. A massive Taldan man with a short nobleman's beard of latest Opparan fashion waves at the carriage, sitting jovially on the grass with a lute in his hands. The illusion of an everyday noble is slightly broken, however, by the rather large and tribalesque shoanti warhammer at his feet, which he gently leaves on the grass as he stands up, giving the tired mare a hefty pat on the neck with his massive palm.

Slowly approaching the carriage as it slows down, Bartolo extends his hand warily as the door opens, hat in hand, aiding whoever would take the unknown man's hand in aid to descend from the vehicle. "Good afternoon, madams and other madams.", he says, and with only a minor hesitation turns towards Chana, clearly regarding her as the head one in charge. "I do apologise for my rather unorthodox approach and my uninvited appearance, but I was in the area and I heard about the Betony's long-lost cousins, and felt that it's only fair that us new arrivals in the area ought to keep in touch.", he harrumphs in a deep, melodic voice. "I'm Lord Bartolo Talbot, but please, don't hold my last name against me.", he raises his hands. "I can assure you that I'm a sybarite, an insufferable socialite and an immoderate scoundrel.", he adds with a face two tones too straight.

"And being all those things, and a presumptious opportunist to boot, I daresay that, since your manor seems to be lacking a groundskeeper and a maitre'd, I figure that our families can both benefit from some mercantile sense." He shrugs. "Failing all that, I offer a night's worth of song and tales in return for a warm meal and a bed softer than a horse's ass."