Y'know what? Take someone who's not in Kingmakers already. I'll get out of the way for others.
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Next question: Level 2 or level 3? Asking because they're all level 3 in Gameplay, but you said level 2 up above. Also, wealth?
Human Swashbuckler? Derren is a total bro. As in, frat bro. I don't think he's a 25-point buy, and I'll need to update him to 3rd level, but other than that, he's good to go! When you say two campaign traits, do you mean two traits from the players guide?
GM Calvus, and Those in the Game, I’m sorry to do this to you all here, but recent events in my life have put me into a position where I need to cut back on my gaming a bit. I’m still around in a few games, but I’m dropping from several. This is one of them. My grandfather is currently in the process of dying from cancer, and it’s put a lot of stress on me. My lack of focus on this game is, in part, because of that. Additionally, Derren as a character was difficult to play, simply because I don’t consider myself to be an ass like him. I’ve enjoyed playing with you all, and would like to play with you again someday, but this isn’t the time. Thank you for giving me the opportunity. Please move me to inactive. I'm sorry, Derren
Derren nods in appreciation as Cyrioul's divine favor falls on him. "Not that I'll need it much, but it's nice to know someone cares. Just don't bail on me, yeah?" Walking toward the camp, Derren assumes a confident swagger, trying to display bravado he's not particularly feeling. He steps into the camp, sword drawn. "Alright, lads...and lasses, if any of you are. Restov's sent me, Derren Orlovsky, to clean the Stolen Lands. You've got two choices. Either throw down and surrender, or die on my blade. Er, I guess you could run screaming too. That'd be fine." Though his head's pounding from the lack of drink, he stands with his sword in a seemingly-relaxed position, ready to attack the first enemy to move.
Readied Action and Opportune Parry and Riposte:
"Well, let's see here. I'm good for two-no, better make it three-I'm good for three of the bandits, so you'll need to take care of six between you all. Think you can handle it?" Derren looks at the others, then at the bandit camp. I just hope I don't end up with the three strongest and toughest...
Though he tries to keep his eyes on the terrain, Derren's headache only gets worse, and it's not long before it becomes obvious. He needs a drink. He shakes his flask, hoping against hope that it's full of wine somehow, but no sound can be heard. Dismounting from Dorina, Derren looks Bolys in the eye. "And how do you intend to do that? Sneak through the grasses? It could work, but if things go sour, there's no way we'll be able to help you from miles away. If that's what you want, then by all means, go."
Nursing the beginnings of a headache, Derren squints out at the grasses they're riding by. "Hey, tracker! Are you sure we're not just riding in circles? This all looks familiar."
Thyme burns, you just need a lot of it to make a train run!
Does the light have booze? Because if it does, Derren can't resist it!
"Be my guest, Miss Sinicka. I never wanted to talk with him to begin with. Still, they'd been struggling, and I figured a different approach might speed things along. As for fear, Miss Apology, it's true that yesterday was my first time killing a man, but I've been toying around with dueling swords for half a decade now. Some swordsmen get cut over and over but never let it have an effect on their fighting. Others, they get a little nick, not more than a scratch really, and they lose their nerve for good. Pain and fear are both good motivators, but they can both cause the same reactions."
"Oh no, Miss Apology. If I took offense to every girl who said no, I'd have even more angry fathers after me, and I imagine this isn't the first time a man has asked you. It did seem Bolys and Cyrioul were going to let your stabbing slide, though, until I came along and asked. Now Miss Sinicka knows, and she's got a kind heart, much more than you or me. She'll be on you just as much as she's been on me about what I said."
"Responsibility? By the Sting, I hope not. Give me a flask full of wine and a few women to woo over what my uncle does any day." Derren seems as if he wants to continue talking, but on seeing Sorry approach, instead bows to the halfling. "I'm sorry, but Miss Apology and I may not be on the best of terms. Actually, most of this expedition may not be on the best of terms with me. You say one thing, one time..." He rides off a good distance from the girl.
Looking down, Derren tries to look solemn. "Yes, the expedition needed someone to give it authority, and they seem to have chosen...to have chosen..." He's unable to maintain his expression and bursts into laughter. After a moment, he recovers enough to continue. "As I was saying, the people who organized this chose me. Although, whether they chose me for my looks, my speed, or my impeccable sense of honor is hard to say. I'll admit I've made mistakes in the last day, but none were as bad as that time with Pyotr when...well, nevermind. As for the 'lord', though..."He lowers his voice conspiratorially. "don't tell Miss Sinicka, but the honorific isn't needed. I've quite enjoyed the 'milords' from her, though." He leans down to offer his flask to the halfling. "Just water, I'm afraid. The trading post didn't have much wine to spare, and I shared what I had after our battle. Now, Sir Piper, where do you hail from? I don't believe I know your house."
For his part, Derren spends much of the day brooding away from the group. Occasionally he complains to Dorina, but for the most part, he rides a few hundred yards back. As the day goes on, he catches up and examines the new arrivals. "Derren Orlovsky, of the Brevic House." He gives the newcomers a quick nod.
"You disapprove of the knifing? Well, that's settled then." Derren rolls his eyes dramatically. "I'm sure no one else'll be stabbed needlessly on this trip. I never said it was an idle threat, though. Empty, but not idle; it was intended to do good work. I never claimed to be a good man, but if my threats had gotten us the information to keep Svetlana and Oleg safe, you'd be thanking me. Bah! You'd best keep an eye on that girl, or there'll be a lot of crippled bandits hobbling around the woods. That is, if they survive your friend." He gives Dorina a gentle nudge with his heels, riding out a few hundred yards from the group. Astride his horse, he sits and fumes, sipping from the water in his flask. Bloody double standards! Stab a prisoner, and there's no repercussions, but you try to get answers out of an unrepentant man, and everyone hates you! "It just isn't fair, Dorina. It just isn't fair."
[b]"Is that so? Stabbed a helpless man in the leg? Y'know, I seem to remember a saying about sticks, stones, and words. It seems to me that my words hurt everyone more than that knife, and I don't think that's right."[b]
Derren purchases several days of feed for his horse as well, and makes his way to the gate, Dorina in tow. Mounting up, he looks at the other two men. "Alright, how far do you figure this bandit camp is? And why hasn't one of you confessed to stabbing that bandit? The ladies both hate me enough as is."
Derren makes his way into the bedroom, pausing at the door as he sees the two women talking to Svetlana. "Okay, that's over with. You know, I never stabbed the man. It was one of the others. Bah! Looks like I won't be sharing a bed with one of you tonight, then." Disappointed, he pulls off his hat and sword-belt, falling into one of the other beds. "I guess this is good night. It'd be a lot better with some company, or at the least with some wine!"
Derren grabs the prisoner with one hand, drawing his blade with the other. "I'll go with. Then, we'll sleep and go after the rest of them tomorrow."
What is GM Appreciation Day? Also, thanks.
"You do know you're the only survivor, right? No, you know what? This interview isn't worth our time. Let's just follow their trail to their camp, deal with the rest of 'em, and come back. Start early tomorrow?"
"Bah! An empty threat, really. I have about as much pull with my family as this guy does with his nameless boss. Besides, I don't have the guts to even stab a man while he's down, unlike whoever put that knife there. You might want to explain that to Carina and sorry, or the ladies will think I did it. Can't have that, now can we." Derren squats down before the bandit. "Too bad though. Cyrioul here's a Vaultsman. There are no empty threats from him, it'll be the rope."
Derren walks over to the storage shed, poking his head in just in time to see Bolys kick the bandit. "No, no, no, that's not how this is done. That's not how this is done at all. Bandit, do you have a family? An old mother somewhere, or a father grown old from too many winters. Or perhaps a son or daughter, born only a few years gone? I'm changing the negotiation terms. My name is Derren Orlovsky, of the Brevic House, and if they live in Brevoy, I will find out who your family is. If they don't, my family has pull in the River Kingdoms. We'll find them. And when I do, I'll butcher every last one of them while you watch. You think your gang is tough? You think your numbers will matter? I think not. We are much, much worse than your friends. Now, answer the questions. First, Where are you camping? Second, How many of your friends are there at your camp? Third, Where can I get a drink around here? You only get once chance to answer. If you don't, I'll cut out your tongue. We can find your friends without your voice, and you don't need it to watch your loved ones die." Derren grins at the man, licking his lips in apparent anticipation.
Looking at the storage shed, Derren shrugs. "Maybe we should take a look in, see what they know. Perhaps another couple of bodies will speed the talking along."
As Carina cleans each body, Derren rifles through their bags and pockets, struggling to pull armor from their corpses. He piles their plunder near the inside of the stable door, well out of the rain. "The middens, eh? If this rain doesn't stop, it's likely they'll not burn. Still, it'll save us burying them, and that's a lot of work from what I've seen of graves. Agreed. By the way, why do you hide your hair? It's quite beautiful, I must say?"
"Hah! Maybe some other time, then. Those talents sound...fascinating." Derren sniffs his jacket, pulling it off and setting both it and his hat aside. "As for your family, well...better crusaders than suck-ups and stodgy old nobles. At least my sister had some sense. She got out of Eagle's Watch while she could. Jakob joined up with the Gorumites and got himself killed in some stupid fight with the barbarians in the Grozni forest, and Mikhiel's the oldest, so he's stuck at court. Say, I wonder if those deaders out there carried anything useful with them, or if these were the dregs of the bandit barrel. Care to take a look with me? If there's no wine, perhaps there'll be something else of worth." Derren stands and pops his back before pulling the hat and jacket back on and rebuckling his sword-belt. He walks to the door and peers out into the rain, hesitating.
Derren raises his eyebrows at Carina's hair. That's...she's not human. Should've known from the eyes. Pretty, though! After a few moments of gawking, he pulls himself together. "Miss, that's quite a trick with your hair, and the magic. Think you could clean me up as well? It was a long, sweaty journey, and I think I've probably got blood on my jacket somewhere." Whether she does or not, Derren continues, flopping down onto one of the beds and patting the blanket next to him. "Bah! This little band didn't put a scratch on us, and we never used our full strength against them. Never killed a man before today, but I enjoy a good fight, and that one barely slaked my thirst. And speaking of thirst..." He reaches for his flask, grimacing as he shakes it with no sound. "You want I should find a bottle somewhere? I'm sure Missus Svetlana has some stowed away in that house somewhere. Seems that, as conquering heroes, we're entitled to a bit of a reward."
"I've done my work for the day, I think. If you need my help, I'll be about." Derren accepts the flask, finishing what's in it before sliding it back into its pouch. "Miss Sinicka, I seem to have run out of wine yet again." He throws an arm around her shoulder and continues. "How is it different, what your dad did and what we did here? Both he and we are within our rights. And as for the live one, I'm sure Bolys will get what we need out of him, and the Vaultsman will do what's right. Can always count on Abadar for that, at least. As for us, let's get you out of this rain. The first fight's the hardest, and it's best to recover in comfort." With his arm still around her shoulder, Derren gestures to the bunkhouse, half-bowing. "You first, Miss."
Derren walks over to where Carina is standing, digging out his flask. He takes a quick sip, grimacing. "Not the best, but not the worst. You can have some if you need it, Miss." He hands it over to her before sheathing his sword and inspecting his hat for damage.
Derren looks at the man who's throat he cut out, his face growing pale. After a moment, he smiles, cleans his blade on the bandit's clothes, and steps over to the group. "Well, I'd say that went well, all things considered. Pyotr, how'd you fare against your man. Mine never had a chance. Bolys, that was an excellent shot. Is that a survivor? Must be, he's snoring like I've never heard. Well, actually, there was that one tavern-girl..."
I'll be away from the internet from Friday until Monday. Just a heads-up.
Stepping around his man to try to get between him and the gate, Derren slashes at his opponent. As soon as the slash is finished, his sword returns to a defensive position in front of him.
If the Bandit Does Something: If he attacks me: If it blocks it:
Are we handling combat by having everyone go and sorting it out, or following initiative order? This is something I always say I'll ask at the beginning of the game and then never do.
From his position behind the guest house, Derren can hardly make out Bolys's shot in the rain. When he finally sees it, he dashes down the alley between the guest house and the trading post's wall, sword in hand, and closes with the bandits. If Attacked in Melee: Derren will try to catch his opponent's blade on his, deflecting it and at the same time ducking under the bandit's guard and delivering a slash at its neck.
Derren steps out of the house, pulling his sword from its sheathe, and moves to take a position behind the guest house. As he goes, he adjusts his hat to keep most of the water out of his eyes.
Derren snorts in his cup when Oleg mentions how much, or rather, how little, time they have. "Sorry. I mean pardon. Goddess, this is going to be a problem. Did I hear you right? Less than an hour? Alright, I'll find a place to hide near the gates, if such a place exists. Maybe behind the bunkhouse. Perhaps Ser Pyotr could lurk near the stables, and Bolys and Cyrioul on a rooftop with bows. I still don't know exactly what Miss Sinicka and Miss Apology can do, so I have no idea what we should do with them. Actually, maybe we should take a second or two to let everyone know what talents we have. I believe I've already mentioned being trained in the Modified Aldori school of fencing. That's buckler and blade, very defensive-minded. I believe Pyotr is a bit more aggressive than I am, but it's been some time since we fought. And you lot? What do you do in a fight?" Derren puts on a show of bravado, but inside his anxiety is rising, and he taps his fingers against the table. Hells and the Abyss. If I'd known this was coming, I'd have drank more. Ah well, lad, your first real brawl!
As Oleg and the members of the expedition file in, Derren perks up and waves. "About time you came in. Was that you I heard on the roof, Pyotr? It sounded awful! The very lovely Svetlana was just about to tell me about some bandits, and the bread is delicious. Wine's not quite what I'm used to, but that can't be helped." He sets his flask on the table and begins filling it with the wine.
I checked my roll, just to see what I'd get. It was a 5.
"Ah, excellent. What vintage is this?" Derren sniffs the wine before taking a cautious sip. His nose wrinkles for a moment before he takes another and sets the glass down. "Not as good as I'm used to, but not as bad as I feared. Svetlana? Pretty name, that. Derren Orlovsky, youngest of the minor branch. That stew smells wonderful. Now, what's this you say about bandits? My expedition's members have been charged with delivering some semblance of order to this land, and the bandits will likely be our first order of business. What can you tell me about them?" Derren dabs at the stew with a hunk of bread, letting it soak up the juices before popping it into his mouth.
"Very well, Goodman Oleg." Derren leads Dorina into the stable, looking around for any feed in it. He unsaddles her, leaving the riding equipment outside her stall, and makes certain she's secure. After a final rub on the nose, he strolls over to the house, his gear either secure in his backpack or rolled in his bedroll. Seeing Sorry picking up her baggage, he shoots her a quick grin. "I beg your forgiveness, Miss Apology. I was uncertain where to put them, but had to move them in order to dismount. Your feet must be tired by now, but did you enjoy your walk?" Without waiting for a response, he steps inside and starts looking for Oleg's wife. Perhaps she'll be more forthcoming with information about these parts than her husband.
I found a map of the Stolen Lands with none of the encounter symbols on it, and I'm playing around with Inkscape to see if I can make a stylistically-interesting map. If so, I can throw what he's got up on a google-doc a little later and see if you all like it. Right now, though, it'll be just the South Rostland Road and Oleg's Trading Post.
Derren slips off Dorina's back and drops Sorry's baggage on the ground just inside the gate. He pops out his flask and takes his last sip of what's inside before turning it upside down to let the final drops drip out. "Ah Hells. Pyotr, you seem to be popular today. Almost as much so as I usually am." He slides the flask back into its pocket and starts rubbing down Dorina. As he does, he talks over his own shoulder, directing his words toward Carina. "Miss Sinicka, the curtsy is all in the foot positioning and the knees. Right behind left, bend at the knees, and keep the upper body straight. You learn a lot when you have an older sister. Mostly things you wish you hadn't (I can braid hair better than my own mother), but still, you learn a lot." He smiles at her before demonstrating, using the tails of his coat as improvised 'skirts'. "Of course, it looks better with a dress. My sister always bowed when she wasn't wearing one." He finishes working on his horse and turns to Oleg. "Ah yes, the charter. Says something about execution by 'sword or rope'. Doesn't seem very sporting to me, that rope business. Goodman Oleg, if you'd kindly tell us what you know of these stolen lands and the riff-raff that inhabits them, we could get down to our business sooner rather than later. And when you've finished, are these stables for our use? Dorina would be more comfortable indoors, and it's been a long ride for her."
"Ah, so you accept!" Derren spurs Dorina to a gallop, taking off down the road and leaving Bolys, Cyrioul, and Sorry behind. As the two of them thunder toward Oleg's, though, he sees Pyotr's horse pull ahead and reach Carina first by perhaps half a horse-length. "Very well, you've won this time." Digging through his coat-pockets, he scrapes together a few gold coins and hands them to the better rider. "And now, I must introduce the last member of our expedition. Pyotr, Carina Sinicka. Carina, Pyotr Nikol Tovanya."
Derren pulls off his hat and gives a quick nod to Oleg. "And you must be the proprietor? Derren Orlovsky, of House Orlovsky, at your service (assuming you're at mine)! Now, I require only a few things, and our relationship can be beneficial to us both. First, your finest red wine, or any red, really. Second, a warm fire. Third. Well, actually, you can't help me with the third." Now, Miss Sinicka, did you tell him about the charter?"
Backstory read, but to be honest, if I didn't see a lawful/evil character scheming and thinking about his/her companions in a mean way, I'd be more concerned. You play your character how you need to, and like Cyrioul said, we'll let you know if you cross an uncrossable line.
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