Stat rolling for Stavros. Will have alias and character sheet up by tonight sometime I'd imagine.
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Posting for interest.
Stavros: Stavros d'Argent ran for his life, ducking and weaving over, under, and around carts, barrels and all manner of things that could possibly get in the way of a young man who was in dire need of a safe place to hide. Sparing a glance over his shoulder, he saw his pursuers slowly being left behind, tripping over the same carts and barrels that he had dodged with ease. Stavros could still hear their yells of outrage and see the fury in their eyes as he'd burst into their clandestine meeting. But he had his prize. His father's sword. His sword now, by all rights. Alas, those fellows hadn't thought so. What made them think they could assassinate a member of House Lebeda (albeit a minor cousin) and get away with it? At least now he had the evidence he needed to pursue his case with the magistrates and get the whole stinking lot of them hung from the city walls. Stavros slowed as he approached his family manor. Should he go back there? It just wasn't the same since Father died, and it was always a possibility that the assassins would know who had identified them and come looking for him there. Bugger it all. He approached the door. As expected, it opened for him. Inside he was greeted by Gerald, the family butler.
Damn. Why did Uncle Artelis choose now to avail himself of their hospitality? Stavros slowly pushed open the parlor door and squared his shoulders, trying to enter with all the grace and dignity he could muster.
"Ah, little brother," Nikol purred, "How lovely of you to join us. Won't you please pour yourself a glass of brandy and have a seat?" This was not good. Nikol playing nice and offering his private stock of brandy meant Serious Business was happening here. The kind Stavros avoided like the plague. Artelis waved lifted his brandy snifter, slowly swirling the contents before sipping. "Stavros, Lord Nikol here was just telling me about your latest exploits. You know, thieving from guild members in good standing is hardly the sort of thing we would want your family to be known for. It could cost us money and lose valuable allies. You wouldn't want that to happen, would you...? Stavros froze in the act of lifting the decanter to pour. Lord Nikol... Oh shit. He'd forgotten. His father had been dead for seven days now, the official mourning period. After that, the manor, estates and incomes belonged to Lord Nikol. And Nikol had never held any love for his dashing ne'e'r-do-well little brother. Nikol was looking at him like a cat about to pounce upon a particularly fat and slow mouse. "Brother mine, I have had enough of your flippant disregard for our family's heritage and our nations laws. By rights you should lose a hand for thievery, and much worse for your other misdeeds." Misdeeds? What misdeeds was he speaking of? All he had done lately was "acquire" evidence to use against his father's assassins, and he hadn't told anyone what he'd been up to... "But I have always held a special place for you, little brother, so I shall overlook your scandalous ways if you leave this house of your own volition, and take that blade with you as a reminder of my generosity." Nikol was smiling now. Smiling. Suddenly it all made sense. His brother had had their father murdered in order to inherit, and Stavros had gotten in the way by acquiring the only piece of evidence not accounted for. The sword. He had to run. He had to... Stavros dropped the decanter and dashed for the door. Yanking it open, he made as if to dash down the hall toward the foyer and freedom.
"Stavros d'Argent, you are hereby banished from the city of Silverhall and all estates and holdings of House Lebeda. You are never to return, on pain of death. Consider this our last mercy." The last thing Stavros saw was Uncle Artelis, smirking triumphantly just over Nikol's shoulder. Stavros awoke in darkness. And it smelled...of potatoes. Feeling rough fabric scratching his cheek, he realized he was bundled up inside a sack. From the constant jostling, he must be in a wagon. But on the way to where? He struggled against his bonds, and felt the wagon roll to a stop.
He twisted inside the sack, managing to get his hands up to open the top.
As he struggled free of the sack, the driver of the wagon turned and yelled back to him. "Welcome to Rostland, little brother. Pray you stay here." As the wagon rolled away, Stavros was bombarded with thoughts and feelings, but foremost among them were revenge...and redemption.
With that, he turned on his heel and started eastward, away from the lands of House Lebeda, toward Restov and his chances of redemption. Stavros d'Argent: Human rogue, lesser cousin of House Lebeda, and penniless exile.
Pokes his head back up over the edge of the table "Been sittin here the whole time Tall Man. Just seems these tables aren't built for short folk."
"Not to interrupt all the tall-folk conversation, but do we know how large this scallywag's crew is at last count? And did he have a ship's mage? We might want to know what we're walking into here!"
What I have so far. Working on background next. Character Sheet: Bimblethorpe Stumbleduck Male NG Gnome Sorcerer, Level 2, Init +6, HP 18/18, Speed 20 AC 12, Touch 12, Flat-footed 11, Fort +2, Ref +1, Will +3, Base Attack Bonus +1 Light Crossbow (Bolt (20)) +3 (1d6, 19-20x2) (+1 Dex, +1 Size) Abilities Str 8, Dex 12, Con 14, Int 14, Wis 11, Cha 18 |