Act 1, Part 1: The Swordlord's Feast

[Kavonde]

Valerie offers Millanius a tight smile without much humor. "Just Valerie." Despite her taciturn answer, however, she watches him with amused interest as he toys with the obnoxious gnome.

 

Tartuccio crosses his arms with indignant annoyance as Millanius pulls a coin from behind his hear. "Hmph. I must admit that your parlor tricks are amusing," he announces, "but I, the Great and Powerful Tartuccio, wield true arcane might! I am not impressed by your sleight of hand. If I desired, I could melt the hand from your arm, and your arm from your body. But I will not sacrifice this opportunity to cement my legacy merely to indulge in one-upsmanship." He sniffs disdainfully at Milannius and turns to regard Zakon.

 

"You are not under my command? Not yet, perhaps, but this expedition shall need a leader--one of brilliant intellect and vast charisma--and there is none here better suited to the role than I. As for your laws," he waves his hand dismissively, "the will and wisdom of Tartuccio is all the law my new nation shall need. And were anyone foolish enough to try and rob me, I would conjure a swarm of rats to devour them alive."

 

It's difficult to tell whether this buffoon is bluffing or not. The spellcasters among you know that summoning a rat swarm would require more magical power than any of you can currently muster.

[BlackHat]

"Yes, but how would The Great and Powerful Tartuccio know who to have them devour, without a thorough investigative process? Assuming he deigned to take the hint, and check their pocket...."

[Kavonde]

Tartuccio gives Zakon a smug look and leans back in his chair, sipping his wine. "Pfah! If the Great and Powerful Tartuccio had been stolen from, he would know. My senses are as keen as an elven ranger's, and I possess a perfect eidetic memory. I am perfectly aware of my surroundings at all times."

 

He is looking directly at where his plate was, and still hasn't seemed to notice its absence.

[Rider Z]

Lerris Ninthborne

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HP: 20/20 | AC: 17 | Fort: +7 | Ref: +3 |Will: +7  | Hero 1/1 | Languages: Common (Taldane), Hallit, Skald

---

 

Lerris once again nearly spat out his mead, this time when Millanius pointed out the "Greatest River Kingdom's Sorcerer's" dirty ears. He choked and pounded at his chest to get some air in, then let out a proper wheezing laugh at Thomas and Millanius verbal assault on the man. He wasn't so keen on the gnome's insistence about his leadership and their doltishness after all. And while Lerris wasn't entirely the type for it, it was good to have some others willing to mock him for the arrogance.

 

"Good to meet you too, Valerie. I'm Lerris Ninthborne, though maybe now that Verne has said it once I'll go around introducing myself as Lerris the Wise." He chuckled as he gave a greeting to the only new face at the table who had given the barest form of a polite greeting. 

 

"As for a leader, you're right about that. As unfortunate as it might be to say the Great Petruccio might be right about anything, these types of things need a central sort of figure. Someone to call the shots when they need calling quick and decisively. But let me say one thing, I'll be dead in the ground before my boss is someone whose head is stuck so far up his ass that he could choke on it. So either put me in the ground or stop your gaffing about great power, leadership, or whatever so the rest of us can drink and talk in peace, thank you very much."  Lerris said as he lightly placed his cup down on the table, it having been fully drained of his mead by now. He'd followed men like this gnome before and wasn't about to make mistake again. Or any other of the countless mistakes he'd made in the past, to be frank.

 

"As for the contract. I'm about sure of it as reasonably possible, Antonia. Read it yourself if you want, seems pretty honest and noncommittal at least on our part. But I'm moreso sure of it's writer than anything else." Lerris said as he nodded towards the Judge. "It's as the Judge said, we've got nothing to give that weighs more than his own honor. At least I don't. And I know the Judge is a man about his business, that I can attest to personally."

[BlackHat]

Zakon seemed satisfied or perhaps was growing tired of the game. "Then, by your own testimony, there has been no crime." He nodded, approvingly at Thomas and then returned his attention to Lerris and Antonia to see if they were done with the contract or if there were others interested in his services. He intended to take it with him, to show the servants that had been denying him an audience with Lady Aldori's barrister and instead insisting on him taking his seat. Which he had. He had not, however, touched his wine. 

[Kistler]

 

Millanius the Arcane - Human Thaumaturge 1 HP: 17/17 | AC: 18 | Perception: +5 Fort: +6 | Ref: +6 | Will: +5  | Conditions: None ResourcesCharacter: -Hero Points: 1/3 -Focus Points: 0/0 Consumables: - Items: - | Spells/ScrollsScrolls: - Cantrips:  - Level 1: - | Skills*Acrobatics: +6 *Arcana: +3 Athletics: +1 Crafting: +0 *Deception: +8 *Diplomacy: +8 *Esoteric Lore: +7 Intimidate: +5 Medicine: +0 *Nature: +3 *Occultism: +3 *Performance: +7 *Politics Lore: +3 *Religion: +3 Society: +0 *Stealth: +6 Survival: +0 *Thievery: +6 *Trained     Millanius returns to his seat with only the slightest *clunk* as he sits. He takes on a lecturing tone, just a touch condescending in his own right as he replies to the gnome. "A leader? I prefer a more egalitarian approach. Everyone here is a professional; capable and accomplished in their field. When working toward a common goal some level of latitude and freedom is key for everyone to flourish. You wouldn't want to stifle Thomas in, um... whatever it is that he does, or stop an expert bear-baiter like Verne here from practicing his craft, or tell the good judge here how to properly throw someone in debtors prison." He pauses for an instant and gives Zakon an uncertain glance, then continues, "You'll get better results if you let them stretch their wings, not clip them."   He turns to Verne, "Now just before we sat you said you thought me clever? Quite true indeed." The monkey on his shoulder does a fair job rolling its eyes. "But sensitive? I'm made of tougher stuff than that! Perceptive perhaps, that would be true!" The monkey on his shoulder shakes its head and stifles a laugh.   "Now where is the food, it's been positively ages since I've had a good meal!"

---

 

OOC/Actions Other: Roll25 Deception Action 1:  Action 2:  Action 3:  Reaction: Recognize Spell Free:

Familiar/Other Modifiers Stitches the Monkey | 5/5HP | AC18 Per: +5/Fort: +6/Ref: +6/Will: +5 -Low-light Vision -Manual Dexterity -Valet -25' Land Speed   Effects: -15' Aura, Circ bonus to Dip/Int/Dec & +1 v. Fear -Success v Mental is crit success -+2 Damage from empowerment -Activate any Scroll

Gear Worn -Clothing (Winter) -Studded Leather Armor -Backpack -Belt Pouch -Thieves' Tools   Weapons -Sword Cane -Dagger -5x Darts -Scepter (Regalia)   Containers Masterwork Backpack -Bedroll -Lantern, hooded -Rations (1 week) -Rope (50') -5x Sacks -5x Torches -Waterskin   Bandolier -3x Flasks Oil -Manacles (poor) -5x Sacks   Belt/Pouch -10x Chalk -Flint and Steel -Playing Cards -Thieves' Tools -Soap -2x Candles -3sp, 7cp

 

[Rider Z]

Lerris Ninthborne

---

HP: 20/20 | AC: 17 | Fort: +7 | Ref: +3 |Will: +7  | Hero 1/1 | Languages: Common (Taldane), Hallit, Skald

---

 

"Capable, maybe. Don't know if I'd call myself accomplished though." Lerris chuckled. But then he straightened himself out somewhat so he could talk in an at least somewhat serious manner. "But I can see the point. Freedom's good, especially when it comes to people who know what they're about. But armies have generals for a reason and even more... uh..." 

 

Lerris stumbled for moment on that word, "Egalitarian," perhaps deriding from his overall point as he puzzled it out. He figured he knew what it meant in the broad sense, based on how it was used at least. But he didn't particularly like looking like a fool. Even if he was one, there was no need to prove it. But in the end he decided keeping his pause any longer would certainly make him look a fool, rather than misuing the word.

 

"Even an... egalitarian place like Andoran's got a Supreme Elect. Someone needs to sit in the tallest chair, even if it just means they're the one who bump heads together when the accomplished professional's need some encouragement or a boot up their ass. Otherwise you get the River Kingdoms, or Galt." 

[AnemoneEnemy]

Thomas of Nowhere | AC: 16 | HP: 19/19 | Per: +4 | Fort: +6 | Ref: +6 | Will: +6 | Hero: 1/1 | FP: 1/1

---

Eidolon | AC: 18 |  Per: +4 | Fort: +6 | Ref: +7 | Will: +4

---

 
Thomas glares at the judge, giving him a little 'hey, cut it the hells out' shake of the head, until it becomes obvious the gnome is entirely, comically unaware of what's happened. He covers his mouth for a moment, eyes sparkling.

"Th'Great an' Powerful Radiccio has nae use fer yuir pretend scenarios, judge," He starts. But what Lerris is saying distracts him. He blinks.

"Andoran? Taldor's province?" He pauses for a startled beat, then hastily corrects himself. He sounds like he might be guessing. "Uh... Former province? They 'ave whit now?"

 

[Spektor]

Antonia Rullianus

---

 

AC: 17 | HP: 19/19 | Per: +5 | Fort: +4 | Ref: +8 | Will: +5 | Hero: 1/1 | Languages: Common, Dwarven, Elven

---

As her wine glass was refilled, the sword scion looked at the contents, seeming almost disappointed at the fact that it would be empty again soon. Nevertheless, it did not keep her from taking another hearty gulp of the dark liquid before setting the goblet back on the table. In a rare show of breaking character, Antonia looked over towards Mellanius as he and the others toyed with the arrogant gnome she had subtly insulted just moments before and watched with a bored expression. Sure, the gnome was an annoyance. But teasing someone of lesser intelligence openly was merely bullying. It took little to no subtlety, intelligence, or strategy. If one wanted to disassemble another person's arrogance, outright displays of insults were hardly the route to take. Even if there was irony in claiming one's perceptive nature while simultaneously being oblivious to everything around them.

 

Antonia peered around the table at the newer faces. None of them seemed to be overly impressive to her, not that the ones before had been particularly amazing. She looked past Thomas, who was seated across from her, towards a particularly gaudy display of art hanging on the wall, but her gaze was distant. Internally, she was beginning to wonder just how long she would be stuck on this unexpectedly drawn out mission. This had not been the plan, after all. It was supposed to be quick, prestigious, and heavy on the reward. She mentally cursed her 'former friends' for their lack of foresight. She would need to leave word, that was certain. Otherwise, they would think she abandoned them and would perhaps make drastic and impulsive decisions. That was not acceptable.

 

The sword scion suddenly seemed to be pulled back into the moment at the sound of Thomas' jarring accent.  Her gaze became less distant and she specifically looked at the odd and pretty man sitting across from her. "Has anyone ever told you that you have an exquisite jawline? No? It's true, after all. I know plenty of folk amongst the...let's say 'higher class' in Brevoy who would bang at the door of every transmutation expert in the city just to use you as a shining example of how they would cosmetically alter their features." The comment was strange, and perhaps a bit off-putting. But it seemed to be a compliment nonetheless. Antonia took a long gulp from her wine goblet and rested her own angled jawline on her hand with the elbow propped up on the table. Her stare was lazy, disinterested, and perhaps already a bit tipsy. "I apologize, I changed the subject. But it was for a good reason. The conversation you all were having was boring. Why don't we learn a bit about the other newcomers to the table, hmm? I think Tartuccio has made himself quite known to us, but the others..." She paused a bit and raised her goblet once more, waving it about in an exaggerated gesticulation. "...Well, they have not said much at all, have they?"

Edited December 3, 2022 by Spektor (see edit history)

[Rider Z]

Lerris Ninthborne

---

HP: 20/20 | AC: 17 |  Per: + 4 | Fort: +7 | Ref: +3 |Will: +7  | Hero 1/1 | Languages: Common (Taldane), Hallit, Skald

---

 

"If it's no trouble miss, I could use a refill here too when you get the chance." Lerris said, waving down the same servant that refilled Antonia's goblet. He'd run out of mead almost immediately, but still didn't seem to show much drunkenness on him. "But I think you're right Antonia. Ought to save that type of talk for when we're less drunk, eh?" 

 

"And just to put a finish on this, I'll sign your papers Judge." Lerris said as he took the offered quill from the Judge and set about to getting his name printed on the contract, his handwriting was surprisingly neat. Especially considering the missing fingers. "Would like to make it clear though. I'd like to be present for it when you hash out the details with the Swordlord. Not that I don't trust you of course, think my signing proves otherwise. Just think a man ought to be present for anything he's put his name on even if he won't know half the words being said, only polite."

 

"But like I said, when we're less drunk." Lerris finished signing his name, then placed the quill neatly on top of the contract. Leaving it there in case anyone else also wanted to sign. Then he perked up, head straightening up from his usual slouch as he sniffed at the air slightly. "And when we've got some food in us. This is one thing I can agree on with you Millanius, been too long since I've had a proper meal."

[Kavonde]

The blonde woman, Valerie, regards Antonia with clear skepticism. Something about the alluring sword scion clearly irritates the knight. "As I said, I am Valerie. I am a warrior currently in the employ of Lady Aldori. She has asked me to join one of the expeditions into the Stolen Lands. I am being paid to be here." With that, she breaks eye contact and takes a sip of her wine, turning her attention towards the tapestry--though likely not actually studying it.

 

"Well, now if I respond tersely and stare broodily off into the distance, it will seem I am following your trend," the pallid elf woman observes from the other end of the table. "Very well. I am Jaethal, of Kyonin. I was born long before any of you and will continue to exist when you are all dust. I serve a goddess who is generally unpopular among the lesser races." Her fingers brush against the pendant she wears at her throat; a medallion etched with what looks like the half-melted outline of a fly. "Whatever you may think of my patron, I intend no harm to any of you; I am here for a fresh start, and what fresher start could there be than helping to found a new nation?"

 

The serving girl who refilled Antonia's goblet moves to fill Lerris', but the bit of mead left in his glass tells her that she's wielding the wrong pitcher. She motions for another member of the staff, who appears quickly to replenish Lerris' cup.

 

"Bah, boring!" Tartuccio says loudly. "A mercenary and an arrogant old elf. If you wish to hear an interesting story, perhaps I, the Great and Powerful Tartuccio, shall favor you all with the tale of how I singlehandedly--no, this is a lie, for one hand was tied behind my back!--defeated the seven-headed hydra who waylaid the carriage transporting my harem to my latest palace. You see, the trick with hydras is that--"

 

The gnome is cut off as the eastern doors are pulled open by the guards and the serving staff cease their work and stand at attention. A striking half-elf woman enters the hall, followed by an aristocratic, middle-aged human man. The man wears finely tailored clothing, fit for a noble, while the woman appears dressed for battle. She wears a fine leather coat over a sparkling mail shirt, and at her waist hangs an Aldori dueling sword with a bright silver pommel. The two make their way to the head table, where they remain standing.

 

The man speaks first. "Greetings, heroes! I am Ioseph Sellemius, lord mayor of Restov. And this," he gestures to the woman beside him, "is Lady Jamandi Aldori. We both thank you for answering her call for heroes. You may be few, but we need only the best for this great task."

 

Lady Jamandi offers the room a broad smile before she speaks. "South of here, beyond Brevoy's border, lie the Stolen Lands. This disputed territory has been claimed time and again by would-be settlers, but because the area has been a haven for bandits and monsters, it has never been held for long. Restov intends for this to change.

 

"If you have enough courage to drive off the dangerous denizens of the Stolen Lands, you can seize territory for yourselves and name yourselves baronesses or barons. Restov intends to recognize the legitimacy of the new rulers of this land, and none of the other neighboring realms care enough to challenge you. We are prepared to provide backing as a trade partner and military ally. If you claim the land, you will have my--indeed, all of Restov's--support!"

 

Lady Jamandi raises her goblet. "But the details of your individual missions and charters into the Stolen Lands can wait. I raise my glass to you, brave heroes! For now, let us eat and enjoy the evening. Tomorrow promises to be a very busy day."

 

Another dozen servants emerge, bearing covered trays and huge bowls filled with mixed greens. They cycle through the tables, laying out three courses at each: crisp greens lightly flavored with savory oils, spicy seasoned waterfowl, tender roast boar. Another cart, piled with sweets and pastries for dessert, is parked deliberately near Lady Aldori's table, in clear eyesight of all her guests. The lady herself takes a seat next to Lord Mayor Sellemius, and the two begin a quiet discussion.

 

As all this is happening, a final guest is led to your table: a handsome and well-dressed ohuman man, perhaps in his late 30's, silver just beginning to touch his temples. He's clad in fine but unadorned dark clothing and has a beautifully ornamented rapier--a distinctive mark etched on the side of its crossguard--heathed at his side. The servant leading him gestures for him to take the final remaining seat at the end of the table, and he thanks the man graciously and smoothly slides onto the bench. He gives you all a charming smile. "Good evening. Sorry I'm late; my lieutenant... well, he's a fussy sort. Maegar Varn." He holds his hand out to Lerris.

[Kistler]

 

Millanius the Arcane - Human Thaumaturge 1 HP: 17/17 | AC: 18 | Perception: +5 Fort: +6 | Ref: +6 | Will: +5  | Conditions: None ResourcesCharacter: -Hero Points: 1/3 -Focus Points: 0/0 Consumables: - Items: - | Spells/ScrollsScrolls: - Cantrips:  - Level 1: - | Skills*Acrobatics: +6 *Arcana: +3 Athletics: +1 Crafting: +0 *Deception: +8 *Diplomacy: +8 *Esoteric Lore: +7 Intimidate: +5 Medicine: +0 *Nature: +3 *Occultism: +3 *Performance: +7 *Politics Lore: +3 *Religion: +3 Society: +0 *Stealth: +6 Survival: +0 *Thievery: +6 *Trained     Millanius responds to Lerris. "Some may be more apt than others when it comes to taking orders. But I'm no pawn in someone else's game, to be moved about at their whim."    He raises an eyebrow at Antonia's wine-swigging, clearly the drinking of someone in pain, and in all likelihood in denial of that pain. He listens to the others make their introductions and greets them in turn.   When the food arrives he can't hide his genuine pleasure, digging in with gusto like a man whose last week may have involved some kind of rations; trail rations, travels rations, prison rations... As is the way of a good meal, he is silent for a time, mouth occupied inhaling the spread before him.

---

 

OOC/Actions Other: Roll25 Deception Action 1:  Action 2:  Action 3:  Reaction: Recognize Spell Free:

Familiar/Other Modifiers Stitches the Monkey | 5/5HP | AC18 Per: +5/Fort: +6/Ref: +6/Will: +5 -Low-light Vision -Manual Dexterity -Valet -25' Land Speed   Effects: -15' Aura, Circ bonus to Dip/Int/Dec & +1 v. Fear -Success v Mental is crit success -+2 Damage from empowerment -Activate any Scroll

Gear Worn -Clothing (Winter) -Studded Leather Armor -Backpack -Belt Pouch -Thieves' Tools   Weapons -Sword Cane -Dagger -5x Darts -Scepter (Regalia)   Containers Masterwork Backpack -Bedroll -Lantern, hooded -Rations (1 week) -Rope (50') -5x Sacks -5x Torches -Waterskin   Bandolier -3x Flasks Oil -Manacles (poor) -5x Sacks   Belt/Pouch -10x Chalk -Flint and Steel -Playing Cards -Thieves' Tools -Soap -2x Candles -3sp, 7cp

 

[PlotDevice]

Verne Greencloak | HP: 16/16 | AC: 15  Fort: +3  Ref: +4  Will: +9 | Hero Points: 1/1

---

Verne watches quietly as those around him play dominance games with each other and with the gnome.  He finds the gnome odious and wishes he would leave, but he doesn't see the point in the games, as it seems the gnome doesn't understand when he's being tricked, or even what's going on at all.  The discussions about government interest him, though he doesn't understand it very well, it seems important to learn.  He recalls the cleric of Erastil he met once, that talked about small villages...

 

Then the lord comes out, and explains everything - and nothing.  Verne listens attentively, assuming this is his chance to find out what's really going on - but no, it's basically just a reiteration of what was on the poster.  Is this just a free-for-all, and each individual is to charge down into the new land and take what they can?  Is it a barony of Brevoy, or a new kingdom?  Are there rules?  Mystified as to all of these, he smiles gently, looking at the judge.  If these questions bother him, they will certainly bother that man, so he will probably find an answer.

 

Then the food arrives, and provides a serious distraction.  Verne piles a plate high with roasted boar, which mysteriously vanishes, and from under the table comes a slurping, gobbling sound for a few moments.  Then Verne suddenly has an empty plate again, which he piles high with a sampling of all the food, and starts to dig in, unashamedly greedy.  Meanwhile, a soft muzzle and wet nose snuffles around at the laps under the table, experimenting to see which of those present will succumb to a fuzzy head and pleading eyes.

 

Verne speaks as he is filling his second plate, hunger finally subsided a bit to allow him to focus on other things (though he's far from full), saying, "Judge Zakon, wasn't that speech very lacking in detail?  I don't know if I need to sign your paper first, but am I right in thinking that you'll be sure to get all the way through the ice, and find out exactly what's going on, and what the rules are for the venture?  I'd be grateful if you'd tell me what you find out." 

[Rider Z]

Lerris Ninthborne

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HP: 20/20 | AC: 17 |  Per: + 4 | Fort: +7 | Ref: +3 |Will: +7  | Hero 1/1 | Languages: Common (Taldane), Hallit, Skald

---

 

Lerris had a mouthful of smoked pork and mead when the man named Maegar Varn offered him a hand. Just as he said when agreeing with the wizard, he was in a desperate way for some good food and it seemed the Swordlord's estate was more than willing to provide. He took half a moment to embarrassedly wash the food down, then turned to the newcomer. He took Varn's hand in a firm handshake and spoke now that his mouth and throat were finally food free.

 

"Apologies. Three weeks of living off jerky, canned bread, and dried fruit will make a man weep at the sight of cooked and seasoned food. " Lerris chuckled as he shook Varn's hand. "I'm Lerris, Lerris Ninthborne in full, but you can just call me Lerris. Pleasure to meet you Varn.'

 

Lerris took a moment to let the announcement settle. In truth it baffled him. More appropriately, it fucking baffled him. The part about taking care of the Stag Lord and clearing the Stolen Lands of monsters and bandits made sense enough. The land was ailing and it only made sense to remedy it one way or another, even if it took sending a bunch of ragged randoms out there on a suicide mission to fix it. But giving those ragged souls the land? And letting them raise their own flag their as well? It was... well, ridiculous. Just plain ridiculous. And Lerris couldn't help but feel as if it was a trick of some sort, or that at least they were being presented half of a truth. 

 

"Think I'll need to find out a bit more as well, feels like there's more than one thing they're not telling us about this. You'd figure if it was as simple as they're implying they'd just send out a few dozen soldiers and take the land all for themselves." Lerris thought out loud, but then shook his head and put away the thought for a moment. 

 

"Speaking of, you said something about a lieutenant? Are you army or mercenary then?" Lerris said as he turned back to Maegar Varm, still ruminating on the announcement in the back of his mind. 

[Kavonde]

Maegar Varn chuckles at Lerris' assertion that there's more going on than Lady Aldori is saying. "Aye, friend. A mercenary. Lesser son of a noble house, went on to found a sellsword company. The Varnling Host." He rolls his eyes, but smiles. "The name was Cephal's idea, not mine.

 

"As for what our host isn't saying? Politics, my friend. Do you know much about Brevoy's history? I admit I didn't, Cephal's given me a rather exhaustive briefing. Brevoy was originally two nations called Issia and Rostland. Gentleman named Choral decided to conquer both kingdoms and combine them into a new one called Brevoy. Three years ago, every single member of the royal family--as far as anyone can tell, anyone with a drop of Choral's blood--disappeared into thin air. There was some 'spirited discussion' about who would take the throne, and House Surtova, the nobles who used to rule Issia, won out. But the southern nobles of old Rostland, like our Lord Mayor and Lady Aldori here, have started coming around to the idea that Rostland and Issia should go back to being two separate countries. If fighting broke out tonight, though, Surtova would probably come out on top; they've got more money, people, and magic. But if the Rostlanders had an ally or three to call on in a few years' time, that might change the math."

 

He takes a sip from his goblet, letting you all reach the conclusion he's pointing towards on your own. "The idea seems to me like a long shot, but there's little cost to the Rostlander cause and a huge potential gain. She's not even paying any of us, as far as I know."

 

Valerie shifts uncomfortably and remains pointedly fixated on the tapestry.

 

"That is, of course," Maegar continues, "assuming that, should these expeditions even succeed, House Surtova doesn't make the new baronesses and barons a better offer."