While conducting matters in the town of Restov, you are approached by a liveried attendent bearing a missive and a small pouch of coins. Upon confirmation of your identity, the man hands you the scroll and pouch, indicating you are being invited to an event in two days time.
The contents of the missive are as follows:
By special invitation, you are summoned to a luncheon and meeting hosted by and for the benefit of the Swordlords of Restov, agency of Brevoy. Accompanied you shall receive an inducement of 150 gold talons, for your appearance and discretion in this matter. A coach shall be made available on the morrow after next, half past 10 bells in Downgreen Plaza, to take you and other guests to this occassion. Should you deign to appear, no issue shall arise, and you are thanked by the Swordlords of Restov for the courtesy and discretion it is assured you will show in this matter.
Respectfully,
Jouls Dunkrint
Council to the Lordship
Swordlord of Restov
The funds are the additional gold each player started with, not additional funds.
If possible, please indicate any reasons each character is in Restov, if backgrounds do not already offer explanation.
Welcome to the game. I hope it turns out fun for all of us.
Thea (short for Almathea) and her husband Viktor were visiting the town of Restov after they heard rumors of work to be had for willing adventurers when they were travelling through the area with the orginal intent of going to Viktors home village to the north of here.
Thea and Viktor have seen much travelling of late. They have only recently returned to Viktor's homeland of Brevoy after travelling all the way from Thea's homeland of Irrisen.
Viktor reads the note and smiles.
Well Thea, it looks like we've already found what we came here for. We have a day to relax in this grand city, and then off to a luncheon...and hopefully a grand adventure awaits.
Hah! Adreccam slaps the note on his leg and grins like a fool at no one in particular. He knew this day would come -- the Aldori Swordlords had finally accepted him into their school. Years of persistence had finally paid off, and the young mercenary was ready to reap his just reward.
He wipes chicken grease off his fingers and orders another ale from ol' Candace. "My star is on the rise, Candy me lass," he proclaims, setting a finger aside his beaked nose and winking at her. He waves the letter at the barmaid, as if she's privy to its contents. "They're sendin' me a coach, says right here!" He kicks one leg up on the table and proceeds to don a very genuine air of self-satisfaction.
Raktin has stopped in Restov to resupply and rest and turns from tying up his horse to greet the messenger. After reading the note he nods and smiles.
"I'm assuming that if you need me someone that doesn't know how to pick their way through some territory they may have no business in needs a guide. I'll be there."
He chuckles and carefully folds the letter before sticking it, and the coins, into his belt pouch. With that he heads off to find lodging until the meeting.
Flynn finishes up helping a farmer get his cart unstuck. How can I thank you? Asks the farmer.
You wouldn't happen to know of anywhere I could get some work?
Why it so happens there are rumors that the Swordlords are looking for explorers to tame the Stolen Lands. Go to Restov, you may find what you are seeking there.
Thank you, Flynn replies.
Flynn finds his way to Restov, while searching through the town for any information, he is handed a note.
Well, I'll be. Thank the gods, this is just what I was looking for.
Flynn can't believe his luck. He was looking for a way to prove his usefullness to the family. Now he has been given the chance.
Flynn searches for the proposed location, Downgreen Plaza, and then looks for the nearest tavern to get a bite to eat and rest before meeting this coach and possibly others.
I suppose we shouldn't make too much noise about having a meeting with this Lord Dunkrint before our luncheon. If we're asked for discretion it's best that we relax until then and go directly.
Viktor patiently awaits the meeting time and arrives at the Plaza, barring Thea wanting to do anything differently and causing us to be late.
Though Thea lags behind Viktor a bit as she takes in the sights of the Plaza, she manages to avoid being distracted so that they might get to the meeting on time.
I swear that I don't know if I will ever get used to seeing a land that isn't under snow.
As you enter from a side street, you are momentarily taken aback by the view before you. Rumored tended by some of the best druids ever to leave Gronzi Forest, Downgreen Plaza is a lush green vista amidst the hustle and bustle that is Restov. The nearly mile on square boasts trees of various local varieties standing amongst meandering hedgerows and soon to bud flowering bushes. Amongst the pathways, small stone benches and crystal clear reflective pools await those in need of respite. Plots of green grass show signs of earthed and sowed plantings, wherein blossoms and herbs will soon break forth to greet the early spring. It seems Golarion is eager to grant the world with new life, new possibilities. Only a few passersby meet your gaze, many seem to be taking in the green, or rushing quickly to errands that only offer the most skirting of glances at this vista of quiet contemplation.
Standing along the southern approach to the plaza stands a fine black coach, a large yet stylish enclosed carriage perhaps able to carry six in relative comfort. The coach sits manned by two stout guards atop the master's bench, a third standing aside the carriage trunk. Their Restovian livery is immaculate and crisp. Stoically before them, four fine chestnut steeds stand hitched and ready to travel. The coachmen and steeds bearing and purpose matches that of the young officer waiting by the closed carriage door. His sergeant's uniform matches the pristine nature of his men's, perhaps even more so. He stares forth at no distant particular, attent to everything, yet nothing at all. Beside him, a slate and reed in hand, you recognize the young attendent that delivered your letter and purse only days prior. The only difference in his demeanor and livery now, is he seems well at ease with the Aldori blade fastened by his side, and the silver pin and chain secured over his left breast.
He notices you as arrive, yet makes no move to approach. It seems obvious you must come to him.
Almathea stands slightly behind Viktor, clearly meaning for him to speak for the both of them.
Viktor nods at the man from a distance and briefly stops and turns to Alamthea.
Well, that looks like our ride. I suppose we shouldn't keep him long. These swordlords get a bit prickly. Let's watch our words here. These people are easy to offend and don't appreciate sarcasm or even a quick wit.
After another brief moment of making sure his clothes are as clean as traveling clothes ever get, he turns back towards the coach. Viktor approaches and holds out his hand.
Hello again, friend. I hope we're not too early?
The attendent makes note of Almathea and Viktor Medvyed's arrival. He fails to take Viktor's hand, his own holding to the stylus and tablet. Welcome and on behalf of my masters, greetings. He then motions for the sergeant, who opens the door and offers a hand to the lady to assist her entrance. Once both guests are seated, he then closes the door once more.
Raktin walks up to the coach and, having seen that the steward appears uninterested in shaking hands, bows slightly instead.
I'm ready for the meeting, shall we get on the road?
He asks as he reaches for the door to the carriage.
Viktor frowns only slightly before shrugging off the insult with a chuckle. He takes a seat without another word and leans back, closing his eyes until others arrive.
The attendent makes note of Ratkin's arrival, nodding to the sergeant as the guest reaches for the coach handle. Please take a seat with the other guests, we have but a few attendees yet to appear.
The sergeant closes the carriage door once the ranger is aboard.
Butterflies scatter in all directions as Adreccam races through Downgreen Plaza, heedless of the serenity he's disrupting. Couples walking arm in arm frown at him as he blows past them. "Pardon, excuse me.... Watch it... Mind the sword... oof... My, you're a wee pretty one... No sir, I have no honor..."
He just knew he was going to arrive late. Story of his life, really. He spots the gilded black coach across the approach. A Rostlander with a huge sword and bow steps into the vehicle. A warrior, and seasoned, Adreccam thinks. Clutching his scabbard against his leg to stop its banging, he waves frantically with his other hand. "Wait wait wait! I'm here, milords. Adreccam Surt... ah, Adreccam reporting for the, ah, event, as it please you. Sir." It becomes abundantly clear that the coach is not on the move, and he sheepishly steps inside.
Flynn returns to the Downgreen Plaza that he had checked out a couple of days before. He finds a spot where he can watch the comings and goings of everyone, hoping he picked the right spot for where the carriage would arrive.
Not disappointed, the coach arrives a couple of hours later. Flynn watches as it pulls up to the Plaza and waits for its guests. Watching the graceful couple enter, then the ranger, and finally the hectic fighter (maybe?). Flynn laughs a little as he watches the final enter the carriage.
He then begins to make his way to the carriage, walking nonchalantly. Confidence he tells himself. Flynn Steelheart, as requested. Flynn nods his head to the seargant and then hops into the carriage. Flynn glances at the occupants, and quickly finds an empty seat. Good day gentlemen. Lady. Flynn attempts a slight bow to the lady as he sits down in the carriage.
Viktor opens his eyes and gives a warm smile to each new arrival. He attempts to rise from his seat as much as the coach will allow and shake the hand of any that enter, introducing himself.
Hello there. My name is Viktor Medvyed, and this is my wife, Amalthea. Good to meet you.
After greeting them he sits and waits patiently, making as much room for the others as he can.
Having made gesture to board for the latest arrivals, the attendent notes them upon his tablet. At eleven bells, with no other arrivals making an appearance, the sergeant and attendent are heard mounting the carriage. Shortly thereafter, the carriage begins to move. A short while later, sounds of passing the southern gate mark your passage from the town into the countryside.
Looking around the interior, the guests observe that while racks are available for various manners of bottles and goblets, none are actually stocked at this time. The shades are drawn, letting only the slightest of glimmers of sunlight to pierce the interior gloom. The low glowing blue stone affixed the roof however grants enough light to see one another and make note of the appearance of each of the five passengers.
Aside from the clopping of hooves and occassional bird call, no other sounds are observed, the guards and attendent seem to remain silent.
Taken in by the lush gardens surrounding them, Thea misses the insult and takes a moment to realize that a hand is being offered up. With an apologetic smile she accepts the assistance into the carriage and watches as the others arrive. Thea greets everyone when they enter the carriage.
Adreccam wrestles with the shield on his back until he finally manages to rest it on the floor in front of him. His armor clinks and jingles, buckles and straps creaking and groaning. He settles himself with a long sigh and then smiles as the graying man beside him introduces himself.
"Peace be on your sword, Viktor, and yours, Lady Amalthea," he says, knuckling his brow. He nods amicably at the tall man with the spear and the Rostlander he spotted earlier. "Adreccam Surtova at your service, and right fine company I find myself in, if I do say so meself, pleasure's all mine." He lays a finger aside his nose and winks. His eyes rest on the tall man for a moment longer. Something familiar about that man... Can't place it. Eh, it's me imagination, that's all.
Raktin looks around at the others, his weapons lying across his lap as he sits.
Raktin Inarom, but you can call me Rack. Guide and tracker. You lot know anything more about where we're headed than I do?
Flynn nods politely as he had been taught to do in the noble houses. Forgetting for a moment that he is not a noble here. Flynn attempts to cover this fact by quickly extending his hand to give a hardy handshake to all that will grasp it. Flynn, Flynn Steelheart. My daggers are quick and sharp and always find their mark. Glad to meet you all. Flynn then settles back down as deep into his seat as he can hide.
I assume we're headed to the estate of our employer, but I've no more knowledge of what we're doing than that. My guess is that it's not too far out of town, otherwise we'd have been asked to ride there on our own.
The coach ride seems to take a little over an hour, the roadway at first well worn, less so the latter part of the journey. Upon arrival, voices are heard announcing guests to see the assembly. The carriage door is opened, bright light streaming in once more. Within several blinks, your eyes adjust and you find yourselves parked in a small cobblestone courtyard before a brick and mortared three storied manor house. A tall wall surrounds the outer grounds, a wrought iron gate clamors closed as the first of you exits the coach.
Stationed around the courtyard are half a dozen guardsmen in the livery of the Restovian Guard. They stand at attention much as the three guards and Sergeant that accompanied you from Downgreen Plaza. Of the attendent, you see no sign.
A small elderly halfling approaches, leaning upon a wooden staff chastened in silver. I am Jeyhen. Kindly follow me into the inner hall. Who wishes to be announced first to the assembly? He lurches and lumbers onwards, not waiting for your reply. At the doorway to the manor, he pauses and looks to you expectantly. Milords, milady, if you please.
From over his shoulder to the room beyond, you see a hall of modest elegance, if somewhat dated in decor. The way is lit by several great standing candelabra, tall white tapers casting a warm glow. Off to the right of the only door you can view, a small boy holds a triangle and sword at ready. A man obviously his father stands tall to the other side, gazing back towrds you, but unable to see well into the bright light outside.
Viktor tries to recall if he knows anything about this particular Swordlord, or the Lords in general.
Knowledge (nobility)
Viktor gives the halfling a warm smile and responds as he follows,
I'm afraid you know far more about us than we know about each other. The trip was quite short and we had little time to become acquainted. I'm sure with your knowledge of the local social rules, you're more aware of the proper order than we are.
With that he drops back to stand within the group, careful not to be standing out front.
"Umm, this doesn't look like a school. I didn't get accepted, did I?" Adreccam sighs in resignation, his shoulders slumping. He leans down to whisper conspiratorially to the halfling. "Just so's you know, ol' chap, I'd appreciate it if you just told 'em my name's Adreccam of Restov. Leave off the last name, if'n you don't mind." The tall warrior straightens, adjusts his armor, and slicks his hair back with a wet palm. He stands resolute, ready to receive the punishment for whatever it is he did whenever.
Almathea straightens out her robe and brushes off some dust from the road as she makes sure that she looks presentable. She then looks over to her traveling companions to see if any step forward first.
Raktin blinks as he walks in, standing with the group.
I'm hoping that we aren't getting hired to know how to eat fancy dinners. I can walk in there first, but I'm not thinking they'll be happy with my lack of knowledge of this whole etiquette thing.
Flynn watches the rest as they fidget and posture, waiting to see who goes first. I am the youngest, truly I am nobody compared to the likes of you all. But if no one is brave enough to step forward, it seems impolite to keep our hosts waiting. With that Flynn slaps Almathea on the rear, causing her to jump slightly forward. Ladies first, he says with a sly smile and deep bow.
Viktor chuckles at the boy.
If it were a matter of courage, I'd expect that we'd all have walked in without hesitation. It's an issue of respect. Both for our host and each other. Only a fool judges another based on their appearance alone. And if you touch my wife there again, you'll lose the hand.
He mimics Flynn's sly smile for a moment.
Flynn nods in understanding to Viktor. Lucky man. Then places a hand behind his back, stands straight, and holds out the other hand toward the doors, After you then. For truly my disrespect has earned me the rear guard today. Flynn then waits patiently with his head slightly bowed for the others to enter.
Almathea has now recovered from the shock of having her rear slapped and graces Flynn with a glare as cold as the winds of her homelands. She then turns towards the door and gives a brief whistle, after which a raven lands upon her shoulder and she then enters hall.
Viktor winks at Flynn. Excellent recovery there. We'll make a gentleman out of you yet. Oh, and watch out for Nightwing. He gives a nod towards the Raven on Almathea's shoulder. He's actually the jealous one.
Nightwing swivels his head to keepan eye on Flynn when Almathea walks past.
Raktin chuckles a bit at the exchange before stepping into line behind Viktor, ready to enter the hall.
Jeyhen stnad looking expectantly at the group. Realizing some reluctance or confusion may exist on protocol, he takes it upon himself to begin the process. Milords, milady, before I begin the introductions, I must address a matter of decorum. No weapons will be allowed in the presence of the assembly. In yonder alcove before the great hall, you will find a series of weapons racks. Please feel free to deposit your items there. Young master Delo will take charge of them and see they come to no harm while you dine. The young boy beyond seems to rise up in stature at the mention of his name. Spell wielders will be on their honor to do no craft whilst in the presence of the assembly as well. Manservant Denorin gesturing to the older man, will seat the first guest, and then return for each in sequence. Please, do not address the assembly unless first addressed.
The aging majordomo then stamps his staff once upon the ground, at which the boy Delo strikes his chime with the sword. It echoes a clarion tone, followed by Jeyhen’s voice drifting from the great hall, “Lady Almathea.” Denorin steps forth, offering his arm.
As Denorin returns, Viktor of Medvyed.
Upon returning, Denorin offers his arm Adreccam of Surtova.
Next back, the manservant motions for his charge to join him Flynn of… Flynn Steelheart.
Lastly, as Denorin returns and offers his arm, the halfling calls Raktin Inarom.
Viktor tries to recall if he knows anything about this particular Swordlord, or the Lords in general.
Knowledge (nobility) 1d20+3
Viktor has a fair bit of general knowledge about the Swordlords, the existence of the various training schools, the intense rivalry, even the rashness of some responses to perceived slights. Of this particular Swordlord, all he recalls is a rumor of something that occured while he was away in Issia. Dunkrint was once considered a high ranking Swordlord, but a "disagreement" occurred in Port Ice over a young lady. The matter was hushed up to the benefit of all concerned, but shortly thereafter, Dunkrint resigned his posting and return to Restov.
Flynn glares at Jeyhen as he begins to speak his name, stupid herald, almost screwed it up but quickly recovers when the herald changes mid sentence. Flynn continues into the hall, holding his posture with a delightful smile upon his face.
Thea will accept the arm offered and proceed into the hall.
"Gorum take you, halfling!" Adreccam curses at the herald as he hears his house name. "Didn't I just tell you not to say my surname?"
He turns and gives Denorin a withering stare as the manservant proffers his am. "Are we to wed in the near future?" he demands in a fierce whisper. "Put your arm down, man!"
The last of remnants of Adreccam's good mood wither away.
Viktor packs away his weapons as requested and awaits Denorian's return and enters when his name is called. He gives a bemused smile when Adreccam's surname is given, though it withers quickly when he realizes that the large man is actually upset over the matter.
Raktin stores his bow and greatsword on the weapon racks and waits for his name to be called. He smiles a bit at the formality of it all, but does his best to mimic the posture and manners of the others. He enters carefully taking Denorian's arm, albeit somewhat awkwardly.
The great hall is open and sparsely decorated. Two great chandeliers hang overhead, mystic flames giving off light to the massive table below, casting moving shadows across the ceiling. The bare stone walls seem aged and worn; many servants having spent many years scrubbing and scouring away the grime and grit of time. The floors are well worn, yet brightly polished hardwoods, cast in a pattern you do not easily recognize. Twelve oaken chairs of a sturdy, plain design are laid around the table, upon which is gathered a sumptuous affair of many dishes favored in Rostland. Each of the guests is lead to a chair opposite a member of the assembly, the gathering with which you have been summoned to meet.
Across from Almathea is the Lord Mayor of Restov, Ioseph Sellemius. He sits a large man, corpulent in both girth and bombastic manner. He heartily welcomes each guest, thanking them for coming and welcoming them to Rostland and Restov. Welcome to Restov. On behalf of the city and of Rostland, thank you for coming. Please be seated.
Seated to the left of Almathea, Viktor finds himself opposite an aged, well-groomed statesman. His head a snowy mane, his eyes an icy blue, yet his smile seems to warm you slightly. He nods and states his welcome, introducing himself as Lord Noel Orlovsky, head of the Merchant’s Council of Restov. Salutations and greetings young worthies.
To the right of Almathea, Adreccam is seated in the presence of Ol’ Deadeye’s living representative in Rostland, the elder priest Tamus Kahn, servant of Erastil. It seems Erastil truly favors Tamus, as the aging man has grown into many features commonly attributed the Master Huntsman, a wild mane, piercing eyes, and a gaze that could halt a deer mid-leap or calm a frightened child. As Adreccam sits, his stare is stern and disapproving. Icily, Welcome to Rostland.
Flynn is brought to the table across from an armored gentleman in the livery of the Restovian Guard, High Captain Jannos Lemurge. One of the youngest officers ever to rise to such ranks, Jannos is known for his near single handed defeat of a wild band of barbaric nomads from the west two years hence. Barely conscious of commenting Jannos speaks Good day, good journey, his eyes shifting between the patron seated at end of the table and Adreccam.
To Flynn’s left, at the end of the table, sits a large high-backed chair holding a well-muscled late aged man with the bearing and stature of a man of station. His raven hair is thinning, his beard and moustache showing grey, yet his form remains lithe and leanly muscled. His tabard and brooch mark him as one of the Swordlords, obviously this is name Dunkrint. Greetings my guests, I would offer welcome, but a matter has arisen that requires my attention, his eyes taking in all but Adreccam. Excuse me a moment. He rises and leaves the hall as Raktin enters.
Raktin is brought to the head of the table, to the right of third name, across from a traveler little better dressed than the average of your gathered band of guests. His reddish brown hair and moustache are trimmed and neat, his face jovial and welcoming. He introduces himself as Jacob Pero, an humble explorer and cartographer. As the introductions have proceeded, he seems to have occupied his time fiddling with a small box compass he keeps in his vest pocket. With Dunkrint's exit, he seems even more aggitated.
To Raktin’s right, at the head of the table, rests a chair higher and larger than that occupied by Swordlord Dunkrint. No tableware has been set there, no place setting available. Obviously, at least one guest has failed to arrive.
As the last guest is seated, the introductions completed, Sellemius rises, offering a toast, To Restov, to Rostland, to Brevoy
Almathea raises her glass to the toast. Greetings good sirs, I thank you for the invitation and look forward to learning the cause for our summons.
While waiting for Swordlord Dunkrint to return, a servant you do not recognize comes forth and describes the meal for the day. Four courses will be served along with a variety of snacks and appetizers. Scattered across the table at the moment are a variety of mint and vegetable tarts with creams, tiny buns of mixed meat pastes, and assorted raw vegetable.
The first course will consist of hollowed out legumes filled with spicy mountain peppers, bits of chicken and game birds.
The second course will be a large trout from the Sellen, hickory smoked with a fruity salsa of sweet raspberriers and rare moonberries in a light sweet syrup.
The main course shall consist of individual young pheasants stuffed with a lamb and rice fill, roasted and served with mixed braised vegetables and spiced fried potatoes.
For deserts, the chef himself will bring forth platters of a baked rhubarb cobbler, pierced with rhubarb swords braised in a citrus glaze, and topped with a rare confection, iced rhubarb and ginger cream.
Bon apetite.
Adreccam feels distinctly uncomfortable under the steely gaze of Tamus Kahn. The young mercenary was constantly in awe of the gods and those that served in their names. Erastil was an Ulfen god, and thus of particular esteem in Adreccam's eyes.
Nevertheless, meat paste buns! He has never eaten half so well, and this isn't even considered a course! With one cheek stuffed, he surveys the dignitaries. The Lord Mayor hisself, and Swordlord Dunkrint! Wait 'til I tell ol' Candace and the Chin Heavy Boys!
Almathea raises her glass to the toast. Greetings good sirs, I thank you for the invitation and look forward to learning the cause for our summons.
That remains to be seen, as matters must first be settled states Dunkrint, returning to the chambers followed by Delos, Jeyhen, and Denorin. He wears his dueling blade, and Delos carries Adreccam's own.
From his belt, Dunkrint draws forth a small, slender golden coil of rope, tossing it into the large open space beyond the dining area. The coil expands and shifts itself into a large, inch thick hoop, roughly 30 feet in diameter.
Adreccam, you have shamed my staff, and thereby me, in my home, in my presence. Jeyhen is my domo, has served my family for over eight decades. Denorin was my royal companion as a child, now my valet and friend. Both have acted with decorum, and at my direction. Your voice has carried, your challenge is accepted. Step forth and speak your case. You wish to be as Sirian Aldori, take your blade, show your worth.
Viktor frowns slightly as Lord Dunkrint leaves, though shrugs it off and lifts his glass for the toast with a smile.
For people so quick to anger, they are incapable of going a minute without giving insult to their guests. Like barbarians pretending to be civilized. Nonetheless, we are here for work. Best to humor them and not take it personally. Besides, it's far more fun than a Taldoran opera.
After the toast, Viktor gives a wide smile and prepares to enjoy the meal before being interrupted by Dunkrint's return. He stands upright as the challenge is given and takes a steps back from the table, looking over at Adreccam.
I am prepared to stand as your second and witness, if needed, Sir Adreccam.
Now, let's see if we can at least handle this duel properly.