Radu Stanislav's page

Take 10 appraise check for a 16

Radu looks over Hazens companions with a discerning eye, and, less obtrusively, the condition of his equipment, "You take excellent care of your companions, and they seem of strong breeding. Nothing overbred or precious, but sturdy and well-maintained. It is a comfort to see a man who takes such matters seriously."

Coming from a man dressed immaculately in spotless pleated white linen, looking more like a courtier pretending to be an adventurer, whose manservant is tending the fire, the words seem a bit odd, but Radu appears to be blissfully unaware of the irony...

"I trust you have some skills at wilderness survival? I fear that we may not have the proper sorts of travelling rations for your hound or hawk, and they may need to forage for fresh meat..."

"A master of horse, hound and hawk, I see, master Stark." Radu says warmly. "You are welcome to share our fire."

"Share as well your thoughts on our mission. I wish to protect and expand the mercantile aspirations of Brevoy, my church and, of course, myself, and so rousting out threats to trade and business, and opening up new trade routes and lands to develop, is a grand opportunity to me, in keeping with interests both nationalistic and personal, and also strongly in tune with the tenets of my faith. What motivates you to the task set before us?"

Radu considers Arumil's words before replying, "While Abadar will collect me when my time is due, I suspect that the local church would not see the profit in opposing any Surtova machinations on my behalf. Until such a time as we prove ourselves, we should count only on our own personal strengths, and that of the associates we can cultivate in these Stolen Lands, whose loyalties, perversely, may be easier to count upon than those who live under the thumb of an oppressor..."

Sorry for delay in posting, been out of town since last Wednesday, with spotty access to computer. Back now.

"I fear that they wish a name appended to the charter merely to have someone to blame, as I warned Ozaziel, but I would be the logical choice." Radu says, as he writes his name on the document.

Radu and Bogdomil (mostly Bogdomil) have set up their tent and are feeding the horses when Arumil arrives. They've chosen a space far enougn from the walls to avoid any of the town's sewage disposal areas, but within a hundred yards, at most.

At Arumil's update, Ozaziel has also been re-assigned? This does not seem auspicious... Hopefully, Tomnus does not find any of the individuals looking for him, in his tavern crawl, as we can ill afford the loss of anyone else.

He consults the paperwork that Arumil has returned with, Rather a lot of men condemned through dubious legal shenanigans. 'Tried in absentia,' indeed! Vagrancy, a capital crime? I remember when the punishment for vagrancy was a boot to the arse and some harsh language! It seems to be our discretion however if most of them are to face death, or some lesser fate...

Tomnus does have a nose for diving headfirst into trouble, doesn't he?

The fact that he's on the run makes a lot of sense, in retrospect. :)

A town guard suggested that it might be safer to set up camp outside the town walls, than to stay at the 'inn,' so Radu is outside the walls (on the side of town they plan on departing from), arguing with his valet about the most effective way to set up the tent.

For a city boy accustomed to a life of luxury, Radu seems to be taking to this 'roughing it' concept, for now...

Arise from the depths, and avoid the dread archive!

Wesley Wheaton! Ha!

Radu is somewhat wide-eyed at Tomnus' tirade, allowing him to finish before replying in a hoarse whisper, stepping close enough to Tomnus to broach 'polite' distance, "You are aware that I am referring to the political machinations of the Surtova, who may wish to exploit any brush with local authority, particularly one that they have engineered or manufactured, to cause us to fall further into their debt, and bind us more tightly to their control, correct?"

He steps back, "Go. Eat, drink and be merry. Clearly you have nothing to fear from falling into some sort of trap set by authorities who may wish you ill." He turns back to Bogdomil, sitting on the cart next to the drowsing Ozaziel. "We shall take the guardsman's fine advice, and set up camp outside of town. I doubt that we'll find any cozy inns in the Stolen Lands, we might as well not become spoiled by the finer things..."

He looks a little dubious at his own words, clearly not loving the idea of sleeping in the tent again, and eating whatever flavorless gruel and too-dry travel bread their rations consist of...

Might be unavailable for a week. We're not really in a combat or action phase at the moment, so I don't really need to post a list of possible tactics, other than Radu intends to pick up some fresh food, so that the rations last a bit longer, and camp outside of town until they are ready to move out in the morning. If the Mayor suddenly decides he wants an audience, Radu will explain diplomatically that he was told by the Mayor's man that the Mayor had no time for them until next week, and that he never would have 'stood up' an invitation from such a respected local authority. Blame it on the help!

Radu does not allow his thoughts to show on his face, instead saying,
We simply wished to pay our respects as a courtesy, I'm sure he has more important matters of state to attend to. Thank you for your time.

Stepping outside, he whispers quietly to the others, The sooner we are away from these inbred sycophants, the safer we will be. If we get entangled in their machinations, we will suffer the fate of flies in a spider's web.

Louder, he says, Let's camp outside of town, as the guardsman suggested, as the inn sounds somewhat rough. his voice drops to a lower register as he continues, Unless someone else can afford to replace our cart and horses, and this automatic cartographer thing, it will probably be best not to risk being robbed, or arrested for brawling in our own defense...

As the Sheriff is likely unavailable, I suppose we'll present ourselves to the Mayor. Thank you for your time. Radu says, bowing his head slightly in gratitude for the man's guidance.

At Arumil's comment, Radu turns to Bogdomil, Find a place to stable the horses, secure the cart and put ourselves up for the evening, would you please?, handing the man some coin.

He turns back to the guardsman, Apologies for the sudden change of heart, but it looks like we'll be seeking out the Sheriff first. Which way might we find him?

At the mention of being expected, and lad's 'joining the retinue,' Radu suspects that at least one other party will either be passing through, or has already.

If the Mayor or Sheriff would like us to attend them at their convenience, we will make ourselves available, but at this moment, the inn would be most welcome, good sir. Radu says to the guardsman.

As the man makes reply, he turns and nods in gratitude to Arumil for lending his arcane skills to helping them not appear ragamuffins.

As the double watch last evening appears to have tuckered out the leader of the expedition, Radu steps forward, futilely attempting to shake road dust off the hem of his robe.

"I am Radu Stanislav, young sir, and this expedition seeks to secure supplies and lodgings, if possible, on our journey into the Stolen Lands."

Radu has been walking beside the cart all day, crossbow at hand, in case some small game is seen to liven up the night's dinner. If quail or something is spotted, he'll take a shot, and send Bogdomil to run and fetch the felled animal. The Survival rules don't really allow for Survival checks without halving travel speed, so whatever he gets probably won't be sufficient to feed people, just be 'for show.'

Radu nods to Bogdomil, who seemed quite content to snuggle up against a tree and wait out the rain, and the two of them prepare Radu's tent on a patch of higher ground, where the water will not pool beneath the tent.

It only has room for two, but I will take the first watch, and you can have an opportunity to dry off, Tomnus.

If Tomnus takes him up on the offer, he will use prestidigitation to warm and dry (and clean) Tomnus' clothing and armor as he enters the tent, a small whirlwind of hot air ruffling his clothing and hair for a moment as all trace of moisture (and road-dirt) is blown away, so that he will be dry and warm for at least an hour, and perhaps longer, if the tent does not leak.

Bogdomil shoots Radu a glare at this generosity, as he's all-too-aware that Radu can only use this magic one more time today, which means that he's not going to get magically dried and warmed before he gets to go to sleep...

Bogdomil stifles a laugh at the plight of the lord's porters, and then sneaks a glance at Radu, not wanting to put ideas in his head.

As they huddle under the trees, Radu uses minor magic to cause the rain to sluice free of his clothing and armor, leaving his white outfit dry, but the magic fades at the end of the first hour, and he seems loathe to repeat the magic, becoming less cheerful the water soaks through his layers of vestments and leaves him thoroughly soggy.

"Our first epic confrontation, the forces of nature, a foe unbeatable by even Lord Drelic and his party, it seems." he says, wryly.

Having settled their tent and other gear aboard the cart, Bogdomil takes up the reins, if no one else has, and readies for departure.

Radu appears intent on walking beside the cart, carrying his shield slung across his back and his morning star at his belt (neither of which appear to have ever been used...).

Gentlemen, shall we be off? he says, waiting for Ozaziel to declare it so.

Perhaps, en route, we can entertain names for this venture, something that is relevant to the four of us in particular, if not necessarily to those who see us as tools to their purpose...

Radu mutters softly, so that his words do not carry beyond those standing beside him, Be extra cautious with your words, gentlemen. Spies carried word swiftly to the north, for the Castellan to have been brought here before the expeditions could depart. The Castellan's words were written in advance, and he did not by accident mention treason and the punishment of enemies of the thone, wherever they might arise, as part of our task. He looks to Ozaziel and his Aldori sword, In the north, they have no love for that Aldori sword, you bear, Ozaziel. Honor is a shining coin that cannot be stolen, and so base men loathe its luster and ever seek to see it tarnished.

Uh, totally ignore the bit about Radu's horse. Apparently, I changed my mind during gear-purchase and didn't buy it... Doh!

Radu directs Bogdomil to familiarize himself with the horses. Much like Thom, he seems to have an easy way with animals, as if long-accustomed to working with them.

Unless someone else wishes to take on this duty, Bogdomil assumes the rule of coach-man, and takes the reins to the cart-horses.

Bogdomil takes off his own bulging pack, and a large sack that he was also carrying, and places them beside him on the bench, or further back in the cart, as appropriate.

Radu checks the cart to see if it is a one horse or two horse model.

"My packhorse can fill that role, if needs be." he says, gesturing at his own mare, which is outfitted with packsaddle, and several saddlebags, clearly not being intended for riding.

Radu is fascinated by the magical cartographer, and makes sure that Bogdomil has a good look at the device. "You'll likely be responsible for seeing that it doesn't run out of parchment or ink, so best to get comfortable with the device now."

Radu nods respectfully to each group as they notice him, regardless of the level of respect afforded him, and steps into the shop when Master Pero waves him in.

"It was a distractingly extravagant luncheon, but I don't recall their lordships mentioning that so many would be invited along, or that some of them would be accompanying us..." he says to Master Pero, once they are inside and out of the press of the crowd.

"Good morning to you as well, Master O'Brian." Radu returns, nodding respectfully. He gestures to an unassumingly dressed man in gray, "This is my man, Bogdomil, he'll be leading my packhorse and otherwise staying out of trouble, as I don't pay him enough to risk injury."

He says the last with a bit of a smirk at the valet, who just shoots him a sour and very un-servant-like look before nodding greetings to Thom as well.

Fast forwarding through character stuff, 'cause I don't want to write the Great Golarion Novel tonight.

Radu returns home once the carriage deposits him in the square, nodding a polite good evening to Thom and the others.

He does not bother with a litter or other extravagance, but walks home at a leisurely pace, unable to move his overstuffed body at the brisk, business-like pace that he normally prefers.

His two-room apartment, scrupulously tidy, looks like a hovel in comparison to the luxurious accomodations he has seen this day, and he indulges in a rare moment of self-doubt, wondering how many years it will take before he can match such opulence, if ever.

Bogdomil, as always, starts upright, in an attempt to look like he was cleaning something, instead of malingering about, and Radu waves off his feigned activity and says, "You fool no one, get over here and help me get this cursed breastplate off."

Once the armor is off, he feels like his stomach contains a boulder the size of a man's head, and he scratches his taut belly with a sigh of relief. "I wish I could have brought you a sampling of what I ate today, if only to save myself from having to eat it. These lordlings devour more food in a sitting than a pack of wolves in a week."

"Had I not been overwhelmed by the display, I would have remembered my manners and paid thanks to the cooks..." he says, rebuking himself for the lapse in grace.

He seizes a quill and parchment and pens a quick missive to his mother, informing her of the event, in the most clipped and practical-minded tones, focusing on who was there, and not on details of food and etiquette, and of the intent to curtail bandit activity in the so-called 'stolen lands,' to improve the flow of trade in the region. He does not presume to suggest that she begin making preparations to seize advantage of the trade routes to open in the next season, with this advance information, as he knows all too well that she will have thought two moves ahead of him before she's done reading the note. With himself being out of Restov, on the expedition, he will be in no position to exploit this advantage, and he will not see it fall to one of his family's competitors...

"Bogdomil, take this to my mother," he says, waving the parchment to dry the ink, "and put it in no hand but her own. Inform her that you have been instructed to await reply, if she wishes to make one immediately, and otherwise, return here when you are done."

When the day's business is done, he prays to Abadar, to open his eyes to opportunity, and his hands to grace, before preparing his things for the day to come.

"Tomorrow, Bogdomil, we begin a new adventure, far from the comforts of home. We may have no roof over our heads, and we may have to dine on whatever game we can bring down with crossbow and sling, but the opportunities that await beggar the imagination."

***

The next morning, he sets out to visit Master Pero's shop, Bogdomil walking behind him, packhorse in tow. For whatever unfathomable reason, Bogdomil has named the ornery mare 'Swag,' and Radu has no objection to this name.

What happens to their souls when their bodies are taken. Do you know this?

Radu looks alarmed at this statement, but waits for Ozaziel to finish before speaking, I assure you, there is no magic known, necromantic or otherwise, to the practitioners of the arcane arts that can drag a soul from the clutches of even the least of gods. Nothing can be done to a corpse that will tear a soul from heaven, or from hell, save for the ressurection arts of a priest, and even then, the gods may choose to keep a soul, so that even that holy magic can fail.

And even if it weren't true, he'd say it anyway, since the idea that some mid-level mage could rip his soul out of Abadar's clutches and Abadar be powerless to prevent it would shatter his faith in the gods and turn him into an ex-Cleric!

I am no fan of the desecration of the dead, which, I should note, is far from the only purpose to necromancy, and would prefer that we find other means to achieve our ends. Indeed, I'd prefer that we not leave a trail of corpses in our wake, for that matter... Radu says. On the other hand, I am even less enamored of men of no authority or station telling me what I can and cannot do, and threatening me with harm or death if I do not follow their lawless proclamations. Such smacks of anarchy and rule by force, which is suitable only for brigands, and not men of law.

The fane of Abadar makes limited use of the animated bones of those who died in service to the church, so my faith does not inform my personal choice to eschew the practice. Nor do the ignoble and lawless threats of those who seek to impose their will on others through fear and violence. I will not be cowed or bullied by those who think that a sharp bit of metal gives them the right to demand respect or submission from others, be they bandit lord or self-annointed champion.

Fight! Fight! :)

I prefer to think that a life, that of a man or an elf, has worth, and not merely value in coin. Radu says, in what seems like his best attempt at a conciliatory tone. If the time comes when you stand accused of some crime, I will continue to defend the value of your life, even if you do not recognize it.

An old trapper once taught me that when one must kill a deer, it is right to preserve the skin, to make into leather, and the organs, to feed to the dogs, and he even had use for the bones, to craft tools. 'The gods put nothing in this world without purpose. Do not test their generosity by casting away what they have given you.' he said to me, and I believe that ending a life without need is even more wasteful than tossing away the organs of an animal.

I fear that, with my youth, much of my wisdom comes from those more experienced than myself. he adds, with a rueful grin. Still, I am fond of my own life, and would not wish to live in a nation such as the orc-lands of Belkzen, where the natives would not see my life as being of value.

I'm trying to play Radu as younger, sort of college-student-y, full of opinions and philosophy and ideals that have not yet been challenged by real-world experience. Since he's a cleric, being idealistic is perhaps in the job description... We'll see as time goes on if his current outlook-on-life survives contact with the enemy, or he turns into a stone killer. :)

At Thom's mention of not having taken a life, Radu nods. My lord Abadar teaches that all things have value, and that a life cut short of its measure is coin thrown on the ground. There can be no justice, if the wrongdoer cannot be made to make amends, and a widow cannot feed her hungry children the corpse of her husband's killer. He smoothes his robes as he warms to the subject. To be counted in the company of worms, necromancers and assassins, is the man who seeks to gain from death.

He pauses, aware that he may have stepped too far, and looking up at the others, Hopefully, we do not count any such among our company. He looks to Arumil in particular, Your arcane studies are not focused on the arts of the resurrection-man, I hope...

Radu adjusts himself in preparation to get up, finding the weight of the meal, and the unfamiliar weight of his newly commisioned breastplate, to be sitting particularly uncomfortably on his frame.

He nods respectfully to their hosts, attempting to give the Lord Mayor his due, while also respecting the Orlavsky merchant-lord, and sparing a moment to acknowledge Master Pero.

As he hauls himself up into the carriage, the scent of the pastries he had brought for the morning sours his stomach, which rebels at the thought of more food. He waves dismissively at Tomnus' comment about needing to handle some personal affairs, sparing not a second's thought to whether or not the man might be 'up to something.'

He pats the seat-bench next to himself as Thom O'Brian boards the coach, and after he has settled himself, says, "I am heartened that another son of Restov has taken up the challenge, Master O'Brian. Have you a soldier's training? Or perhaps the skills of a woodsman or tracker?"

Radu listens attentively, although his brows knit with concern when the elf bluntly speaks his mind.

"The disruption to trade that the bandits and other dangers present has long been an annoyance to my family's business, so I am inclined to support this endeavor. Is there perhaps some bounty on the region's bandits and other dangers that might serve as a more compelling incentive for those with less personal stake in securing our nation's trade routes?"

Radu observes the host's surprise at his guests taking such familiarity with his books, and promptly slides the tome he was examining, about the arrival of Choral the Conqueror, back onto the shelf and turns to take a seat.

Perception 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12

At the Lord Mayor's comment, he replies, when the others have finished speaking, "The lands seem to have abandoned even the 'freedoms' of the River Kingdoms, let alone any more proper authority, and have become a haven for the lawless, a threat to free commerce along the rivers."

While the hosts discuss matters, Radu will continue to idly peruse the shelves of books, seeking more of an insight into the hosts interests than anything else.

Appraise check to roughly gauge the value of the collection 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24

Perception check to get a sense of what sorts of books the owner finds most interesting, both from the number of them present, and the amount of wear on individual books, suggestive of being read / handled most often 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26

After a few minutes perusal, he'll select a single book, preferably the one that appears the most representative of the host's interests (due to amount of wear and number of similar books on this topic), and sit down to read from it (unless it's in a language he can't read, in which case, he'll find one he can!).

Wow, get those high rolls out of the way, first, I guess!

Radu rises with a small bit of effort, weighted down by the feast, and after nodding his acknowledgement of the host's instructions, heads into the meeting hall. He does not sit immediately, but glances over the assembled tomes, more to gauge their value and the interests of the host, than out of any desire to read one.

So I take it you are aware I have a Druman merchant amongst my various enterprises. A lucrative arrangement for all involved, though peculiar in habit and manner at times. How is Tamindor these days?

Radu doesn't attempt to disguise his curiosity at this, "I was not, actually. I have but begun to dabble in the market, and am searching for my niche, as it were."

I'm not finding any reference to Tamindor in the Inner Sea World Guide. Is it a place in or around Restov, or an individual that Radu should know?

Radu nods respectfully to each of the gentlemen present as they introduce themselves, although his eyes linger on Lord Orlavsky, and during the brief period of social chatter before the meals are served, compliments him on his foresight in working to keep the tariffs for river trade low, as it has greatly benefitted the Restovian market, although he makes no attempt at diplomacy above his station, as he knows that over-eagerness can smack of desperation.

During the toast, he raises his glass and barely touches it to his lips, before returning to water. To House Rorgavia, he adds silently, noting the larger empty chair, May they sit among us again, someday.

As the foods are served, he moves with deliberate slowness, observing what items others eat, such as the meat-filled pastries, and choosing instead those filled with vegetables, and picking at his first course, before digging into the second and third courses with more enthusiasm. He attempts to be subtle about this, as he does not wish to offend his hosts with his dietary restrictions.

By the time dessert arrives, he is feeling the pressure of his breastplate against his belly, and wishes he had left the polished lump of metal at home...

While still in the carriage, he'll reply to Ozaziel, "I was born here in Restov, but the teachings of the Kalistocracy have touched my life all the same."

********

At the major domo's instructions, he removes a dagger from the folds of his robes, and leaves it on the weapon's rack, having brought no other weapon on this outing.

While they walk, Radu fastidiously cleans any trace of crumbs off of his breastplate and robes with a napkin, which he tucks away, after ensuring that the pastries did not leave butter-stains on his gloves.

He smiles thinly at Tomnus' commentary, glancing appraisingly at the man's gear, before saying in a low voice, "Port Peril is an entire world away from us. I can't imagine what one could have done that would inspire pursuit from such a distance." his smile becomes somewhat more genuine and his voice lowers yet again as he adds teasingly, "Hopefully no bloodthirsty pirate captain's lovely daughter was involved..."

From the worth of his gear, it doesn't seem to have been a monetary offense. he thinks, assessingly.

Attempting DC 10 knowledge (local) or (nobility) check to determine a proper order of announcement.

1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15

"As one who bears an Aldori blade, it may not respect our Swordlord hosts to announce you last, Sir Ozaziel."

To the halfling major domo(?) he says, "Ozaziel first, Arumil second, myself third, Tomnus fourth and, um, this fellow, whose name I did not catch, fifth, please." he looks to the others, "Unless someone has a different preference."

As the carriage begins to move, Radu frowns minutely, finding the company an unusual mix, particularly the last man to seat himself, whose scarred face and broad shoulders suggests a man at arms, and whose inexpert grooming suggests one with little concern as to what sort of impression he is making.

Such individuals are either graceless, or competent enough at violence as to not care what others think of them... he thinks, warning himself not to dismiss the man's potential because of his rough demeanor.

Gesturing with a white-gloved hand towards Ozaziel's necklace of charms, he asks, "I see the symbol of Ragathiel occupies a central position. Is he your personal patron, of the Empyreal Host?"

While he waits, he also uncovers a small basket he brought with him, which contains an assortment of fruit-filled flaky pastries, the scent of buttered bread filling the small carriage. He takes one from the top, still steaming slightly from the magic he has used to keep them warm and fresh, and moves the basket into the middle of the carriage, so that all can reach it.

"I find it useful to have a snack before visiting those who offer a feast, so that my stomach does not growl during the lengthy introductions. Help yourselves, if you wish."

The mid-morning is clear and temperate, so Radu keeps the curtains open to the front and sides, to view the surroundings as the litter is carried at a moderate pace to Downgreen Plaza.

He takes in the sight, a part of him critiquing the waste of space that could be used for retailers and homes, and yet recognizing that to leave room for parkland was a conscious display of success, and taste, that the city of Restov was secure enough in it's financial standing that it did not need to cram money-making opportunities into every plot of land.

The carriage awaits, and he directs the bearers to place him near it before lowering him to the ground, thanking them for their service, and tipping each of them an additional copper, unconcerned that this is doubling the cost of the trip.

He smoothes his fine vestments, which flare out from beneath his well-polished breastplate, and steps smoothly to the carriage, nodding respectfully to the sergeant and again to the young messenger, whose measure rises in his eyes, as he notes the Aldori dueling sword at the boy's side.

He then pulls himself up into the carriage, to view the others who have been summoned this day.

Hmm. An unarmored elf, perhaps some sort of arcanist. A man, clad in studded leather, yet bearing an Aldori dueling sword, perhaps a warrior who cannot yet afford chain shirt or breastplate. Another in a chain shirt, bearing the weapons one would associate with a duellist or scout, and yet a barbed vest that suggests a hunter or woodsman of some sort... he thinks, attempting to take the measure of these men as he seats himself.

"Greetings gentlemen. I am Radu, of the Church of Abadar." he says, appearing ill at ease at having to extend his hand in greeting while seated, due to the cramped confines of the carriage.

Radu holds the missile in an immaculately clean linen glove, and ponders the vicissitudes of fate that have led to the Swordlords being willing to part with 150 gold talons for the pleasure of his company.

He could barely contain a thrill running down his spine, at the thought of the business opportunities that could arise if he made a suitable impression, and yet there was also the nagging question of what the local rulership thought of his family and their business interests. Not everyone had welcomed the teachings of the Kalistrade, and even among his fellow followers of the Master of the First Vault, there was whisper as to whether his new vocation was entirely appropriate...

Pushing aside his doubts, Radu calls to his man, "Bogdomil! I require a litter for the morrow, to arrive here no later than 10 bells, and convey me to Downgreen Plaza no later than half past the hour. Do not hire those Carvosky boys, they are brutish looking and clumsy. The Severan lads, if possible. They manage to keep themselves clean and presentable... First impressions are so important.

As his manservant accepts small coin to make the hire, Radu regards the finer of his two outer robes, and uses prestidigitation to attempt to clean it and whiten it's color yet again, even if the outfit is already pristine.

"What opportunity awaits?" he mutters to himself, before being distracted by the scent of cooking food from the second room of his woefully-inadequate lodgings. "Oh, Bogdomil, you idiot. You left the pot on the fire again... Honestly, what good are you?" he grumbles as he bustles into what passes for servant's quarters, kitchen and storage, to remove the pot from the hearth.

*****

In the morning, he rises and prays to Abadar to give him the foresignt to see opportunity in the day's venture, and the stones to seize it, before it slips away.

As the time approaches, he sends Bogdomil to collect some fresh pastries, flaky crusts slathered with warm butter and filled with a raspberry preserve, and places them within a covered basket, which he keeps warm and fresh via prestidigitation. The four sons of old man Severen arrive in a timely fashion, with a partially enclosed litter, and he pays them in advance, using his magic once again, to clean the tabard of one who has apparently had a run in with a cup of soup (or perhaps ale, although he shakes his head to put that thought out of his mind). It would never do to spoil the first impression with unkempt litter-bearers...

And so it begins.

I'm also in it for the kingdom-building. Radu's all about the establishing of his Kalistocracy-friendly merchant-empire!

"I'm Rostland born and bred, so I know better than to trust anyone with the last name Surtova, no matter how 'good' they say they are. I got an eye on Addrecam and Kieran. You guys look shifty..."

"Then again, 'the devil you know,' and all that. There's a lot of foreigners here, with ways different than our own. Perhaps they'll do some more folk dancing?"

The mechanical stuff for Radu is in the profile (some gear isn't finalized, he's got to get a leather jack, a dagger and a sling for the hireling, for instance).

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