Act 1, Part 3: Into the Fire

[Kistler]

Millanius the Arcane - Human Thaumaturge 1 HP: 8/17 | AC: 18 | Perception: +5 Fort: +6 | Ref: +6 | Will: +5  | Conditions: None ResourcesCharacter: -Hero Points: 1/3 -Focus Points: 0/0 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 Consumables: 2x Tanglefoot Bags, 2x PoL Healing Effects:

---

For once finding himself rather at loss for words, the 'wizard' finds himself rather slack-jawed. "Uhh... Service?" He blurts out. "Um, m'lady I would be..." He shakes his head and gathers himself. "In this 'service' could perhaps I organize a demonstration, well, a production as it were. An entertainment. Something to dazzle and impress guests to your court?" He seems to find the idea of being a 'kept man' stuffed in a room a bit worrisome, little better than a cell. Though if there was some way to parlay this into his big break...

---

OOC/Actions Other:  Action 1: He and Stitches will take their share of the loot, and any additional reward, then depart. 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 -Bandolier   Weapons -Sword Cane -Dagger -5x Darts -Scepter (Regalia)   Containers Backpack -Bedroll -Lantern, hooded -Rations (1 week) -Rope (50') -5x Sacks -5x Torches -Waterskin   Bandoliers -3x Flasks Oil -Manacles (poor) -5x Sacks   Belt/Pouch -10x Chalk -Flint and Steel -Playing Cards -Thieves' Tools -Soap -2x Candles -Ring of Keys -39gp (38gp 6sp 3cp)*

[Kavonde]

"The manor's security system is engaged," Lady Jamandi explains to Verne. "It's designed to contain and isolate threats so that my guards can deal with them one at a time. Once activated, it seals off the first floor from both the inside and outside; then, ideally, the manor's defenders can respond to threats in detail while cutting them off from reinforcements. Unless, of course, someone slips into my home during a grand feast and sabotages the system ahead of an attack, trapping most of my people on the second and third floors and giving them free access to the entire ground level." She sighs, watching another body being carried out of the chamber and towards the Great Hall. "Anyway, you'll be welcome to sleep outside. I certainly don't blame you. Once we're sure the floor is secure, we'll reset the entire system and raise all the portcullises. By that point, the Lord Mayor should have arrived with forces of his own."

She gives Millanius a grin. "We'll have to determine exactly what your duties will be. I do not intend to employ you simply as another guard, Millanius. Your talents in performance and production will certainly find use. Tell me, how do you feel about traveling for work?"

[Kistler]

Millanius the Arcane - Human Thaumaturge 1 HP: 8/17 | AC: 18 | Perception: +5 Fort: +6 | Ref: +6 | Will: +5  | Conditions: None ResourcesCharacter: -Hero Points: 1/3 -Focus Points: 0/0 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 Consumables: 2x Tanglefoot Bags, 2x PoL Healing Effects:

---

"As long as it keeps me well away from my father, I'm rather fond of travel. I don't think I've told anyone here about the time I charmed the Rajah of Surrandaput into giving me his bejeweled magical chalice and setting me free..." He says, warming up to the idea and starting to fall back into his old stage persona once more. Stitches, of course, tries to hide his eyes in embarrassment with his little monkey hand.

---

OOC/Actions Other:  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 -Bandolier   Weapons -Sword Cane -Dagger -5x Darts -Scepter (Regalia)   Containers Backpack -Bedroll -Lantern, hooded -Rations (1 week) -Rope (50') -5x Sacks -5x Torches -Waterskin   Bandoliers -3x Flasks Oil -Manacles (poor) -5x Sacks   Belt/Pouch -10x Chalk -Flint and Steel -Playing Cards -Thieves' Tools -Soap -2x Candles -1gp 3sp 7cp

Edited April 17, 2023 by Kistler (see edit history)

[Spektor]

Antonia Rullianus

---

 

AC: 19 | HP: 22/30 | Per: +5 | Fort: +5 | Ref: +9 | Will: +6 | Hero: 1/3 | Languages: Common, Dwarven, Elven

 Panache: ✖️ | Conditions: None

---

Antonia knew the tone that Lady Jamandi spoke to her with. It was a tone of thinly veiled suspicion. It was the sort of tone that raised the alarm in minds trained like hers -- minds trained to lie and deceive. The alarm screamed in her head, 'You slipped up! Fix it! Lie more!' And so, she would. "Oh please, Lady Jamandi, you pay me far too much credit. As an aspiring duelist, I've been taught that it is important to recognize deception in all of its forms. I am certain that you know just as well as I that an opponent does not always fight clean when engaged in one-on-one combat, therefore, to be a skilled fencer, I must also be skilled at recognizing a feint or deception before it has a chance to lessen my guard." As she explained, Antonia declined her head towards Lady Aldori as a sign of respect. "As for traveling, I am unsure what gave you such an idea, my lady, but I have been taught a great many things during my academic years with no small thanks to my father and his coin purse for providing me with a thorough education."

She peered up from her respectful deference to see if the deception was convincing, although it was easy enough to play it off as a humbled display of submission. Finally, the Fencer straightened her posture and cleared her throat, indicating a change of subject. "On that note, My lady, I did find this during our...exploits." She removes the long, curved blade -- the revered Aldori Dueling Sword. "I have not yet earned my right to wield such a blade, as you clearly know from my surname. I understand that it was your intention to allow us to keep the items we have procured, but this seems...different. This is not just a mere weapon, but a title. This blade is intended for the hands of only the most skilled duelists -- like yourself. Would you like to see it returned?" Of course she wanted to keep the blade. It was worth more than its weight in silver, after all. But these words, at least, were truthful. She was untrained with the weapon, as most were, and would do the title of Aldori Duelist a great disservice to display her lack of skill in the Stolen Lands beyond.

The wannabe-noblewoman looked towards Millanius' showy display with a quirked brow and an amused smile. "The Great Millanius the Arcane -- indebted?! What has this world come to when a man of such talent and renown must bend the knee in the face of a few unpaid horse-parking fines. Perhaps this was all part of a grand ruse to secure yourself gainful employment. Well, it seems your plan has come to fruition. Your presence on our journey will be sorely missed, but I must say: Fine job, sir. You displayed bravery and -- now -- forthrightness. We could all learn from this, I think." She offered the man a bow of respect. A shame. She liked Millanius and could see the two of them getting into quite a bit of trouble in the future. Alas, their paths would surely cross again.

Regarding Verne, Antonia did not make any movements towards the bear, even as the young man assured her that the bear would not attack. "I can assure you that my reasoning is not related to a fastidious preference for whom I call an ally. Your furry friend there is still an animal. I am sure the two of you have a wonderful relationship, my boy, but I have had my fair share of encounters with predatory beasts. For my own sake, I will keep my distance for now. No offense. Also, did you say you were going to sleep outside? I believe the threat has been dealt with. I am sure the Lady would not mind you taking up a clean room for the evening, so that you do not have to 'rough it', as they say. Or perhaps you are preparing your mind and body for what is to come -- and perhaps you have a point there. I have no doubt there will be a severe lack of luxury accommodations once we arrive in the Stolen Lands. Alas, for me, that is all the more reason to enjoy it while I can." She smiled slyly, more to herself than anyone else, and began looking towards the exits to locate the quickest way to her unsullied room. She would be certain to lock the door this time. Perhaps bar it, as well.

 

Mechanics

Rolling deception, just in case it is necessary to lie to Lady Aldori.

 

Edited April 17, 2023 by Spektor (see edit history)

[Kavonde]

Had you not been there yourselves, you might almost believe that last night's attack never happened.

Once Lady Jamandi confirmed that the lower floor of her manor was clear and reset the security systems, a veritable flood of bodies came charging down the stairs. It turned out that most of Lady Aldori's students--aspiring swordlords hoping to earn adoption into the house--reside on the second story of the manor and were eager to be of service, if disappointed at missing the opportunity to test their mettle. They were joined by the heavily-armored mercenaries known as the Iron Wraiths, who surveyed the carnage with dispassionate, even contemptuous gazes. And not long after they arrived, Lord Meyor Sellemius and every guardsman he could muster--more than fifty in all--reached the front doors as well.

Between their strong arms, the hard work of Lady Aldori's servants, and quite a bit of minor magic, the Great Hall has been cleared of bodies, blood, and debris--as well as the banquet tables that filled it the previous evening. Now, Lady Jamandi and the Lord Mayor stand before you on the raised dais they spoke from before. Jamandi's expression is calm, but there is a hardness to her eyes as she surveys her audience: a motley assortment of adventurers and mercenaries hoping to make their fortunes in the Stolen Lands, and far fewer of them than filled this hall just a day prior.

"I would like to thank those of you who helped defeat the Black Tears last night," the half-elven noblewoman begins. "It is obvious that someone doesn't approve of our plans to settle the Stolen Lands." She gives Antonia a meaningful look. "Well, we're not so easily dissuaded, are we? I say no! And today, I would like to issue formal charters to all of you to begin exploring the Stolen Lands and to make them safe for tomorrow's settlers."

Lord Mayor Sellemius hands her a scroll, and she holds it up for all to see. "The first charter we would like to bequeath goes to the group called the Iron Wraiths," she states, with a wave towards the band of five well-armored warriors. "The tales of your adventures have thrilled many Brevic nobles, and I'm excited to see what you can do with the exploration of the Glenebon Uplands. Your charter is to establish a base there after dealing with the barbarian tribe called the Tiger Lords and, if you find him there, the bandit known as the Stag Lord."

The apparent leader of the group--a human man with handsome, noble features and a single scar that cuts a jagged line from his brow, down his cheek, and to his chin--steps forward and accepts the scroll from Lady Jamabdi. "My name is Quain Kortun," he says, addressing the crowd. "Some of you already know of me. The rest of you will."

He glares at you all, his thick, well-polished plate mail a pronounced contrast to the leather and chain so many others wear, then grunts and returns to his team.

Lady Jamandi raises another scroll. "Baron Hannis Drelev, as per our previous discussions, your charter is one of specific importance for Brevoy. Securing the southern trade routes along the East Sellen River and establishing a base for merchant caravans and barges alike is of utmost importance. Hooktongue Slough will be your base of operations."

A dour-looking nobleman approaches the dais and takes his charter from Lady Jamandi with a crisp bow that's barely more than a nod. "I humbly accept this vital mission," he says in a nasally, stuffy voice, "and look forward to our shared prosperity." With an arrogant sneer, he turns and walks out of the hall, a quartet of uniformed soldiers or mercenaries falling into step behind him.

Jamandi watches him go with a carefully neutral expression, but her face relaxes into a smile as she calls the next name. "Maegar Varn! The mercenary company you lead is renown for their skill at arms, their loyalty to their employers, and their devotion to their leader. I have little doubt that you will make as fine a governor as you do a commander. Your charter assigns you to the Nomen Heights to establish a town with the Varnling Host. In time, we hope to establish an Aldori dueling school there, but in the more immediate future, we ask you to broker an alliance with the Nomen centaurs who roam the region. I trust you and your fellows are up to the task!"

Maegar Varn, the handsome middle-aged mercenary who shared a table with you last night, steps forward and gives Lady Jamandi a flourishing bow. "I thank you, Lady Aldori, Lord Mayor," he says before turning to address the room. "I had the pleasure of meeting some of you before last night's... events." He looks around the room, his expression sad. "It is a loss to this expedition and to the world at large that so many brave souls were lost. But now, we must take up the burden that they cannot. We will together bring peace and prosperity to the Stolen Lands." He looks directly at the six of you, and smiles. "I look forward to working together as friends and allies."

As he leaves the dais, he pauses to have a quiet word with your group. "Once you get established, I would love to have you come visit so we can set up trade relations. Good luck." He grins at Antonia and winks. "Keep your sword as sharp as your wits, my lady."

As Maegar rejoins the crowd, he's joined by a sharply-dressed older man with a precisely trimmed gray beard and short hair, and a significantly less well-maintained dwarf with long, brown hair and a thickly braided beard. Lady Aldori watches them go, then takes another scroll.

"Linzi of Pitax," she calls, and there's a surprised squeak from nearby. Heads turn to reveal the halfling bard standing there in absolute shock, her hands pressed to her mouth. Amiri, Harrim, Valerie and Jaethal stand beside her, looking almost as surprised. "During last night's attack, you demonstrated uncommon valor in the face of horror and violence. You single-handedly blinded an ogre and fought your way, alongside your allies, through this besieged manor to stand at my side. With this charter, you and your companions are assigned the task of settling the Salen Hills in the south of the Stolen Lands, exploring the area and establishing a base for trade and settlement, and bringing justice to the Stag Lord and his bandits should you find them."

Linzi squeaks again.

"Great, so now I'm stuck with her," Amiri grumbles.

"She grows on you," Harrim says mildly. "Like a mold."

"Like a mo--" Jaethal stops, realizing Harrim just made the same joke, and gives him an annoyed look. "Hrm."

Ignoring her companions' banter, Valerie takes a knee and places a hand on Linzi's shoulder. "You have my sword and my shield, Linzi. So long as I draw breath, I will see you succeed."

Lip trembling, Linzi steps forward and takes the offered scroll. "Um... " she begins nervously, but after a moment, she swallows and squares her shoulders. "I didn't expect this. But I won't let you down, Lady Jamandi. Or any of you. If you ever need help, well... we'll be there. Because if we're going to make the Stolen Lands a good place to live, where people can be free and happy, well, we'll need to work together." She stops, seemingly done with her speech, before impetuously adding, "And I'm gonna build an arts college that'll put old Irovetti's to shame!"

"Finally," Lady Jamandi continues as Linzi rejoins her companions. "Last, but certainly not least, last night's band of heroes." She motions for all of you to come forward. "First, I want to thank you again for risking your lives to help defend my manor. The courage, gumption, and skill you displayed will take you far, I suspect! For your charters, we're asking you to travel to the southwest into the region known as the Greenbelt, a swath of wildlands that includes the forest known as the Narlmarches and the hill country of the Kamelands. We've heard that the bandits have grown particularly aggressive in the Greenbelt, and believe it's likely where the Stag Lord makes his base of operations. A small trading post in the Rostland hinterlands has been particularly hard hit--I suggest starting there. To that end, I have made arrangements with a transporter who is familiar with the area. I've found her to be very reliable and trustworthy."

After giving you all a chance to respond, she dismisses you and turns back to her audience. "When we planned this expedition, we had more charters to hand out." She gestures to the three scrolls the Lord Mayor still holds in his arms. "For this reason, I add one more mission for all of you: find out who is truly responsible so that they might face justice. We suspect--"

"I OBJECT!" cries an obnoxious, familiar voice.

All eyes turn to regard the Great and Powerful Tartuccio, resplendent in his finest set of purple robes, his cheeks flush with rage and a vein standing out on his bulbous forehead. "How dare you exclude me?! Me! The Great and Powerful Tartuccio! I am worth all the rest of these scum and ruffians combined! Was it not I who valiantly led the so-called heroes you thank for your rescue?! Was it not I whose tactical brilliance assured victory over the assassin horde?! These mutton-headed fools do not deserve that charter! It is mine! Mine alone!"

Lady Jamandi regards the gnome in stony silence... until a vicious little smirk twitches at the corner of her mouth. "Ah, yes. The Great and Powerful Tartuccio. Don't worry, mighty sorcerer. I didn't forget you. You see, something odd happened to my security system last night. It was not just bypassed, but turned against me. And upon close examination this morning, with the help of a new retainer of mine, we discovered something... unusual."

Tartuccio's face goes pale. He glances around at all the armed men and women surrounding him.

"Seize him!" Lady Jamandi commands, but before the words even leave her mouth, Tartuccio hurriedly spits a few words, gestures wildly, and vanishes into thin air.

There's a minute or so of confusion as everyone in the hall searches for the treacherous sorceror, but it's soon determined that, thanks to his magical abilities, he was able to scamper away.

Despite this disappointment, there's a genuinely optimistic air as Lady Jamandi dismisses you all and the various groups begin to go their separate ways. Maegar Varn waves at you all as he and his lieutenants exit the manor. Linzi, on the other hand, takes the time to give you all the biggest hugs her diminutive frame can manage.

"Thank you," she says, fighting back tears. "This... none of this happened the way it should-- I mean, the way I thought it would. But I think everything might just work out. I hope I'll see you all again soon. No matter what happens, you'll always be my friends."

Her other companions say their goodbyes as well. "You're tougher than you look, kid," Amiri tells Verne, clapping him on the shoulder. "So's the furball. You might just turn into halfway decent warriors someday."

Jaethal stops in front of Zakon, giving him a smirk. "You're the only one of these mayflies with any sense," she tells him. "Don't get yourself killed, lawgiver."

Valerie gives Lerris a salute, fist to her heart. "Keep yours alive, and I'll try to keep mine alive," she says with a wry grin. "Be well, Lerris Ninthborne."

Harrim pats Thomas comfortingly on the arm. "There there. Whatever you're running from, it can't chase you forever." After a pause, he adds, "Because it will die eventually, you see. Or you will. Either way, problem solved."

After goodbyes are said, Sir Ivenzi, the captain of Lady Jamandi's household guard, approaches you. He's looking better, though his arm is still worn in a sling and his dented armor has been replaced by a simple black gambeson. He hands you a sack of coins--one of the sacks you saw in Lady Aldori's secret treasury. "You'll find precisely one hundred coins," he tells them, but he raises a disapproving eyebrow. "Normally, they would all be gold, but for some reason, twenty-nine of them are copper." He hands over the bag and chuckles ruefully. "Lady Jamandi again thanks you for your help. But perhaps be a bit more selective with your looting in the future."  [The party gains 71 GP and 29 CP.]

Finally, like the rest, you head outside the manor. The rain that was pounding down last night, the wind that was rattling the shutters, has all faded away. The sun shines above you through a gradually clearing sky, and the scent of blooming flowers reaches you. Though the day is still cool, even chilly, it is clear that spring is gradually beginning.

At the bottom of the hill, you find a striking half-elven woman of Vudrani heritage, her dark hair shot through here and there with streaks of gray, leaning against the wall of a wooden wagon: Sija Bhatyani, the driver that Lady Aldori spoke of.

Once introductions are made, plans are set to depart in the morning. In the meantime, you have the rest of the afternoon and evening to divvy up your earnings from the manor and spend them at any of the various fine shops and boutiques Restov has to offer. You're welcome to spend the night at the manor again, if you dare, or find your own lodgings.

Tomorrow, your true adventure begins.

Edited April 18, 2023 by Kavonde (see edit history)

[AnemoneEnemy]

Thomas of Nowhere | AC: 16 | HP: 30/30 | Per: +5 | Fort: +7 | Ref: +8 | Will: +7 | FP: 1/1

---

Æthelflæd | AC: 19 |  Per: +4 | Fort: +7 | Ref: +8 | Will: +6

---

Thomas gives Harrim a curious and mournful look. Æthelflæd isn't there to remark or smooth out the tension, vanished into whatever void they dwell in when not summoned.
"Ye have it on its head, like. I'm the huddy doin' th'chasin', an' Æthelflæd's proof enough that death's neither final nor relief. But I thank ye fer yuir kindness."

He steps forward, shrugging on his sometime swagger like a cloak to draw attention and eyes. Through some trick of posture or something subtler still, he lets his presence fill the space around him until he draws eyes--specifically, the Lady Aldori's.

"Cannier tho' it may have been tae sieze first an' gie yer speech after," he says with a grin that might just be roguish enough to turn the chide into an acceptable jest, "I may be able tae shed light on th'matter o'the minute minter."  

He sweeps his hand out in a grand courtly gesture, hand empty--then dips into a florid bow, and when his hand extends itself at the bow's culmination, metal gleams in his palm: a gold ring with a flat circle on top, a single stylized chalice etched into it. 
"Fell oot 'is pockets, like," Thomas adds, without even attempting to be convincing.

OOC/mechanics

 

 

 

[BlackHat]

Zakon Malheur

HP: 20/20 | AC: 14 | Perception: +7
Fort: +4 | Ref: +4 | Will: +9
Hero Points: OX | Focus Points: O

Earlier that morning, in Zakon's private chambers...

“Oh Gatekeeper of the Dark, this court beseeches thee. Hear this plea for extradition and bear witness to this subpoena. 

Call fourth the spirit from the void, to inhabit this empty vessel. With the will to speak the truth, in court, she shall be compelled to testify.

By the power of the pact we share, I call upon thee, Ancient One. 

Let the spirit of the departed be returned, so that justice may be served.”

 

Volodmyra awakens from a darkness so complete that it was nearly suffocating. The last thing she remembered was the battle in the great hall, the shock of electricity, then the haunting words of the judge, as her consciousness faded. Her memories were vague and indistinct, at first, but that same judge now stood before her. Still speaking. Volodmyra lunged to strike him but found that she could not move. Or even feel her body. Indeed, as her head toppled to the side, with a hollow knock, she realized with a growing sense of horror, that something was wrong. She was paralyzed. Her head rested within some eldritch circle, ringed by dark candles.

Understandably, she screamed.

Someone else, just out of her line of sight, screamed as well. 

"Silence," Zakon said to both of them but kept his eyes locked on Volodmyra. She stopped screaming immediately. The other woman took a moment longer. Volodmyra wasn't able to move her eyes to look at the other person. Must they always come back screaming? The judge bent forward and placed her upright in the circle again. He looked sad - almost apologetic - about what was happening. Volodmyra could not look away. She could not even close her eyes. The judge spoke directly to her. "You have not been dead long enough to see the Hells that await you, child. Save your screams for they shall be your only comfort."

Nearby, the servant-girl, who had been ordered to deliver the freshly prepared clothing and skull, could hardly believe what he was witnessing. She had asked to stay. The judge had made her sign a waiver and a non-disclosure agreement. She had heard rumors of magic being practiced in the manor before, but she had never seen it with her own eyes - certainly nothing like this. She tried to inch closer to get a better look, but the mixture of fear and curiosity kept her rooted to the spot - a spot that was close enough to observe but just far enough away that it no longer looked like the skull was staring into her soul.

 

"Volodmyra of the Black Tears," Zakon’s voice was chilling and filled with a power that she could not comprehend. He held in one hand a piece of parchment covered in ink and notarized in several places in blood - a necromantic post-mortem subpoena. "By the authority of Lady Jamandi Aldori, you have been summoned to testify before her court. While it is, regrettably, too late for this to absolve you of any sin, this court has graciously granted an ex post facto stay of your death sentence... and the eternity of suffering that shall follow... in exchange for your compulsory cooperation." The judge paused, and seemed to be waiting for some sort of reaction.

"WHO IN TH-?" Volodmyra shouted, aggressively. Apparently, though unable to scream, she could shout. Her hate-filled outburst was silenced, by Zakon simply raising a finger.

The judge sighed, weary of this demonstration of authority but continued going through the motions, none the less. It had almost become part of the incantation. "I exchange my name and further bind thee. You shall know me as Zakon Malhuer," he answered, dispassionately. "... and, until the terms of your release have been fulfilled, you will speak to me with respect, or not at all, referring to me only as ‘Your Honor’ or ‘Master Malhuer’." Volodmyra could feel it in her bones. The deal was done, the pact made. 

Although Volodmyra was filled with fear and outrage, she found she must comply. The voice was simply too powerful to deny. "Yes… Master…." she hissed the last word through gritted, lipless teeth. It seemed that Zakon allowed some leeway in how his command was obeyed. Gracious, indeed. Zakon took no pleasure in this and hoped to expedite their morning. He had quite a lot to get done before the meeting in the Great Hall.

"Now that we understand one another," the judge waved a hand and Volodmyra rose from the desk as a body of flesh and blood formed around her skull. "... get dressed." He gestured across the room. Being now in possession of a neck, Volodmyra could turn to see a servant-girl holding a freshly cleaned and folded outfit. The same black outfit that Volodmyra had died in. "We must attend Nishkiv’s questioning." May your example loosen his tongue… for both of our sakes.

The servant’s eyes widened in shock. She had never imagined that such magic could be possible. Her mind raced with questions that she knew that she would never be able to ask the Judge directly, but the experience had ignited a newfound curiosity and fascination with magic and ensured that this young woman would never, ever, violate the terms of those papers she signed.

 

Zakon turned away, offering Volodmyra a moment of privacy and dignity to do as he commanded, while he packed his summoning materials. Finding herself, once again, in possession of arms and legs, Volodmyra moved to strangle the judge but suddenly stopped and found herself unable to complete the act. Without turning around, the Judge added, "If you cannot be trusted to use this gift, responsibly, this court can revoke it. It is not a necessary condition of your parole." He turned to face her, taking back the gift of privacy as if to demonstrate his point. "... I do, however, believe that we will both find it more convenient than the alternative." He shook a thin chain that hung from his belt, which ended in an iron bird-cage, barely the size of a human head. The iron-bars were rune-etched slats, so close together they appeared to touch. 

As Volodmyra dressed in the clothes she died in, brief glimpses of memories brushed against the edges of her consciousness. She remembered the assault on the manor, the fight, and her own death. She remembered her comrades, and the thought of them dead or in chains filled her with a sense of regret. She wondered what Lady Jamandi Aldori wanted with her, and why she had been brought back to testify. The thought of facing a court, even as a witness, made her stomach churn. But most of all, she wondered what would happen to her once the trial was over. Would she be allowed to rest in peace, or would she be forced to remain in this world, trapped in some sort of unholy servitude to the judge? The uncertainty was unbearable, and she found herself wishing that she could scream again, just to vent her frustration and fear. But no sound came out, and she was left with nothing but her own thoughts and the sound of the judge packing up his materials.

A few hours before their meeting, while sensible adventurers would still be recovering from the night's excitement, servants had dispatched invitations to Antonia, Lerris, and Verne as stipulated in Article II of the representation agreement that each they signed at the Feast. Those who declined to attend were later tracked down by the determined judge, if only briefly before they entered the Great Hall. The terms of their agreement required that he make every effort to ensure that they understood the terms of the expedition they may be pledging themselves to.

Zakon looked as though he had already been up for hours and his haunted look was understandable, considering their interrupted night’s rest and the harrowing evening that followed. There was a grim determination in the older man’s eyes as he fulfilled his obligation by sharing his understanding of the terms of the arrangement and answered any remaining questions. Primarily, this was for Verne’s benefit, who had not attended the meeting in Lady Jamandi’s office, but Zakon was obligated to summarize for Antonia and Lerris, as well - and almost nothing would stop him from fulfilling this obligation.

So that there might be no question of his thoroughness, he also offered each of them the opportunity to participate in a ritual, ahead of the meeting in the Great Hall. The spell would, he claimed, bestow upon them, briefly, the benefit of his years of legal study. The prospect seemed grim and the choice was theirs. He would not force such knowledge upon them without their consent. 

 

When Zakon finally arrived at the Great Hall, he once again wore his formal robes of office, which had been cleaned since the night before. He also now wore an iron cage that hung from his belt. It was difficult to see what was in the cage but it rattled around when he moved, with a boney clunk. Dare not, so much as a whisper. This was neither the time, nor the place, to consider granting a reduced sentence for good behavior.

Zakon nodded with respect at Jaethal, when she passed him at the ceremony. "...may our next meeting be less eventful."

When their group is called forth to accept their charter, Zakon takes a moment to formally pledge his commitment to the expedition. As he swears himself in service of Lady Jamandi's charter to tame and settle the Greenbelt, supernatural occult power flows through and around him as he speaks, and all those present to hear it intrinsically know that it binds him to this cause until its completion.

 

Later in the day, in the city... (Hero Point Vignette)

Zakon strode through the bustling streets of the city, his robes billowing behind him as he made his way towards the warlock's lair. The air was thick with the scent of spices and the sounds of merchants hawking their wares, but Zakon was focused on the task at hand.

As he approached the warlock's door, he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. This man was known to dabble in forbidden magics, and Zakon was determined to put a stop to it.

The door creaked open, and Zakon stepped inside the candlelit shop. The warlock, a wizened old man with a long white beard, looked up from his work and scowled.

"What do you want?" he grunted.

Zakon drew himself up to his full height and spoke with authority. "I have reason to believe that you have been practicing witchcraft outside the bounds of law." Zakon presented the man with a rolled up scroll from beneath his robes, "I am compelled to issue you with a cease and desist order to immediately stop such practice."

The old man protested, a little too readily. "I swear, Your Honor, I have done no such thing."

Zakon's eyes drifted about the shop, landing upon a cauldron that was bubbling in the fireplace. "If that is so, then you should have no trouble complying with the carefully worded terms of the order." The warlock raised an eyebrow and his reaction shifted from panic to curiosity as he unrolled the scroll. "If, however, you continue to provide 'mind-altering enchantments' to customers who have not yet come into the age of majority...."

The old man's eyes widened in fear. Zakon approached the warlock with a stern look on his face. "Yes, I'm aware of your...indiscretions," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "... and I trust you recognize that I have come to serve you notice, rather than to serve a warrant for your arrest...."

The warlock's eyes widened in surprise. "What do you mean?" he asked cautiously.

"That my obligation is fulfilled with this notice that you are to cease and desist any unlawful activity." The warlock looked skeptical. "Whether the city presses charges for crimes already committed, my duties require me to leave the city at my earliest convenience... a journey which would be hastened by the perfectly legal exchange of occult knowledge..."

The warlock hesitated, but the prospect of redirecting the judge's attention was too tempting to pass up. "I think I might be able to teach you a thing or two," he said with a grin. "But you have to promise to keep your end of the bargain."

 

Level Up / Retrain

Leveled up to 2. 
Used free retrain to swap out Cooperative Nature for Courtly Graces
Assuming he ends up learning Invoke True Name, he will retrain his Adapted Cantrip from Invoke True Name to Divine Lance (Lawful).

At level 2 picked up Pactbinder as the archetype feat, Enhanced Familiar as the class feat, and General Training as the Ancestry feat which then selected Streetwise.

Two new spells will be Imprint Message and Read Object.

Daily Preparations

Switching Familiar to a Talking Head with Skilled (Lore: Black Tears) and adding Manual Dexterity and Master's Form.

Preparing Share Lore, Pocket Library, and Unseen Servant.

Equipment

Gained 29.35 gp. 
Currently holding onto the elven ring until the group decides what to do with it or someone asks him to return it but it wasn't factored into the division of loot, so Zakon does not consider it his - but he does want to help try to get it to an elf or someone who would appreciate its significance more than a random pawn broker.

Purchased:
- Caster's targe (2gp)
- Scroll Robes (1.5gp)
- Another set of manacles (0.3gp)
- Scroll of Lock (4gp) + setting aside (2gp) to try to learn [Update: Only needed 1gp]
- Another Backpack (0.1gp)
- Familiar Cage (5gp)
- Formula Book (1gp)
- Setting aside (2gp) to learn Invoke True Name for real [Update: Assuming still 2gp]
- Setting aside (2gp) to learn Join Pasts [Update: Probably only Needed 1gp]
- Needed 1gp to learn Prestidigitation
- Needed 1gp to learn Tame
- Sold some rope and Nivix's clothing (at half price) and spending all but the last of his copper to buy the heart-shaped necklace off of the team (who will sell it otherwise)

Downtime

With 8-9 hours of downtime (mentioned on Discord). Zakon is going to prioritize:

- [1 hour?] Will use his Talking Head Familiar with Lore (Black Tears) to Recall Knowledge (with Guidance!) a bunch of times for Lady Jamandi about who hired them, what the details were, how best to get Nishkiv to spill his beans, etc - as well as filing paperwork and otherwise Aiding in the help with the Coercion, conviction, and prosecution of the other prisoner. [Let me know if you want a roll, otherwise just glad to help]
- [1 hour?] Zakon will volunteer some of his time to Aid in filing paperwork about the charges against Tartuccio and the warrant for his arrest after his escape (and perhaps a bounty on his capture). [Let me know if you want a roll, otherwise just glad to help]
- [1 action] Cast Share Lore if any of Antonia, Lerris, or Verne wish to be trained in Lore(Legal) during the Great Hall ceremony
- [1 action] Use Binding Vow to pledge himself in service of Lady Jamandi's charter to tame and settle the Greenbelt.
- [1 hour] to attempt to learn Invoke True Name  (DC 15+Rare? so probably at least Success)
- [1 hour] to attempt to learn Join Pasts (DC 15+Uncommon? so probably Critical Success)
- [1 hour] to attempt to learn Lock (DC 15 so Critical Success)
- [10 minutes] to attempt to Identify the Cloak (DC ??? but got a 16? )
- [1 hour] to attempt to learn Prestidigitation (DC 15 but result is a 12 so failure doesn't use up any gold but he has to level up before he tries again) - but then I reroll using a Hero Point, and get a 28 so it only costs 1 gp
- [1 hour] to attempt to learn Tame (DC 15, Result 22, so critical success only uses 1gp

 

Edited April 18, 2023 by BlackHat (see edit history)

[Kistler]

Sija Bhatyani - Half-Elf Ranger 2 HP: 32/32 | AC: 19 | Speed: 25ft | Hero: 1/3 | Focus: 1/1 Perception: +8 | Fort: +8 | Ref: +7 | Will: +6  Conditions-None| ResourcesInfused Items: -2x Lesser Antidote -2x Minor Elixir of Life Consumables: - Talismans: - Items: - | AbilitiesFocus Spells: -Gravity Weapon Abilities -Darkvision -Flurry -Monster Hunter Actions: -Hunt Prey -Twin Takedown -Battle Medicine | Skills*Acrobatics: +5 *Arcana: +5 *Athletics: +8 Crafting: +1 Deception: +0 Diplomacy: +0 *Herbalism Lore: +5 Intimidate: +0 *Medicine: +6 **Nature: +8 *Occultism: +5 Performance: +0 *Religion: +6 Society: +1 *Stealth: +5 *Survival: +6 Thievery: +1 *Trained | **Expert | ***Master

---

As the group approaches the woman is busy talking to a guard, speaking rather quickly in her lilting accent, "First they tell me to hurry here, and I get stuck in the mud in the rain last night, soaked to the bone. Now they tell me to wait 'til tomorrow. Always rush, rush, rush, then wait, wait, wait." She shakes her head, "I hear there was trouble here last night too. Maybe I can help inside?"

When she turns to see the large group walking toward her she smiles more warmly and walks forward to greet them. "Welcome to my wagon. I am Sija Bhatyani. They put out a notice they needed a wagon and driver who knew the roads to the west, but I didn't know there'd be so many of you." She eyes Shardik skeptically. "Perhaps the bear can walk?"

 

While the others leave to do shopping, Sija proceeds inside to see if anyone could use the help of any one of her healing concoctions.

---

OOC/Actions Other:  Action 1: Earn income, Nature (for medicine) Action 2: Success, earn 3sp! Action 3:  Reaction: None, yet Free:  Exploration Activity:

Feats -Elf Atavism (Darkvision) -Monster Hunter -Battle Medicine -Natural Medicine -Herbalist Dedication --Advanced Alchemy --Alchemical Crafting -Twin Takedown -Gravity Weapon

Appearance Sija looks like a typical Vudran woman, often dressing in the more traditional fabric wrap of her homeland and often a headscarf or shawl. She often wears some form of ornamentation or jewelry on hands, ears, neck, and brow. She is older than most, though as a half-elf she wears her six decades with dignity and grace, with few signs of the decrepitude often seen in similarly aged humans. She is tall, and stands with a straight back and good posture. Her arm is strong and well-corded with sinew and muscle, perhaps appearing a touch wiry, and her skin a bit weathered from years outside. Her hair was once a glossy black, though now it is streaked with gray; more with each passing day.   She can often be found with a cudgel, a wicked-looking curved dagger, and a whip hanging from her belt. She wears these, and warm outer clothes or a cloak to protect her from the elements, when she travels. When expecting trouble she throws a bandolier on that's filled with flasks of healing ointments and poultices.

Gear Worn -Clothing (Winter) -Breastplate -Backpack -Belt Pouch -Healer's tools -Bandolier   Weapons -Club -Corset Knife -2x Dandpatta -Flyssa -5x Darts -Whip   Containers Backpack -Bedroll -Climbing Kit -Rations (2 weeks) -5x Sacks -5x Torches -Waterskin   Bandoliers -4x Flasks Oil   Belt/Pouch -10x Chalk -Crowbar -Flint and Steel -Soap -2x Candles -1gp 6sp 6cp

Edited April 18, 2023 by Kistler (see edit history)

[BlackHat]

Zakon Malheur

HP: 20/20 | AC: 14 | Perception: +7
Fort: +4 | Ref: +4 | Will: +9
Hero Points: O | Focus Points: O

As the group departed the manor to go about their business, Zakon noticed a middle-aged woman who seemed to be in charge of a team of horses and a large wagon. This must be the teamster that Lady Jamandi had arranged to take them west, to the trading post in the Rostland hinterlands. He approached her and introduced himself. "Our patron speaks highly of you, Sija. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Circuit Judge Zakon Malhuer and I look forward to traveling together." Zakon was no stranger to the road, although he was used to accommodations and comforts that he likely would not see on this expedition. He was, however, accustomed to recognizing and gravitating towards the authority and responsibilities of the men and women who lead such caravans. 

While the authority of a teamster like Sija Bhatyani may not be as absolute as that of a captain on a ship, they still hold significant authority and responsibility for the safe transport of their passengers and goods. As the teamster in charge of the wagon, Sija would be responsible for ensuring that the wagon and the horses are well-maintained and that the journey proceeds smoothly. She would also be responsible for making decisions about the route, how long to travel each day, and where to stop for breaks or to camp for the night.

"Please do not hesitate to call upon me, if I may be of service, in any capacity." In all likelihood, the registration and other permits were overlooked if Sija was not planning to spend more than a night or two in the city. Zakon could, however, expedite the paperwork and call in a few favors to arrange for other supplies and services.

[Spektor]

Antonia Rullianus

---

 

AC: 19 | HP: 30/30 | Per: +5 | Fort: +5 | Ref: +9 | Will: +6 | Hero: 1/3 | Languages: Common, Dwarven, Elven

 Panache: ✖️ | Conditions: None

---

As the Judge found Antonia's room, the woman took quite a few minutes to actually come to the door. When she finally did, she opened the door only slightly and peeked out through the opening, exposing only her head, neck, and one bare shoulder. "Oh, Your Honor! Forgive me, as I did not expect your visit." Her look of surprise was quickly replaced with a jester's grin. "I must say, I am flattered, Judge. But I cannot say I feel the same way about you. You see, if things were to escalate romantically now -- well, think of what the others would say! What's that? It isn't why you're here? Oh, imagine my embarrassment." Clearly, she was not embarrassed at all, nor did she actually believe the Judge had come for anything amorous. But it was fun to mess with people who were uptight. Most of the time it made them sweat and stumble over their words, which was amusing. She doubted the Judge would react in such a way, but it she figured it would be interesting to find out, either way.

She denied the Judge's offer to magically share information about Law. As useful as it might have been, the fact that it was temporary drastically reduced its usefulness to her. And she was not a fan of having any spell cast on her. Magic was dangerous, and who knows what sort of information a powerful practitioner could take while pretending to give. It was best to be safe and not take any more risks. Antonia was thankful for her decision once she saw the magical display of the judge's work. She wanted no hand in such magic, and the fact that she had signed a name on the contract did not seem to bring her any ease.

---

Later, in the Great Hall, Antonia watched the events play out silently as Lady Jamandi assigned each group their sector of the stolen lands to conquer. She observed the individuals who would be teamed together and subtly shook her head. This was clearly going to be a complete and total shit show. Clearly the Lady was a talented and intelligent individual. So why would she think that random groups of mercenaries, inspired by the promise of coin and violence, would be capable of colonizing an untamed land overrun with bandits? Even if they could succeed, how could she believe that any one of these people would make suitable leaders of a kingdom? As far as any of them knew, this might only serve to bolster the ranks of the bandits already present in the Stolen Lands. Either that, or get everyone robbed and killed. Thankfully for Antonia, she had other plans. However, she could not shake the nagging thought in the back of her head. That voice that asked, 'What if? What if you and yours could succeed? Imagine the glory of and riches that came with running a kingdom...' She suppressed the thought again. Thinking like that was likely to get her killed. She needed to focus on the real reason she was doing this. She needed to focus on how she was going to pull off such a legendary task...

The revelation of Tartuccio's involvement with the attack was no great surprise to her, but it still raised her ire. She should have trusted her gut and lodged a shiv in the gnome's neck. But that would have done little to keep up appearances. However, she made a mental note to ensure the gnome got what was coming to him the next time they met. And surely, they would meet again. Whatever coup the gnome had involved himself in was intent on stopping this mission from carrying out. Their failure here would only bolster their resolve. The expedition groups would be targeted next.

Antonia applauds when appropriate, and to Linzi says, "Well done, little scribe. What you've accomplished here -- well, let's just say it cannot all be attributed to Halfling luck. You've earned it." It was a lot easier to be convincing when she meant what she was saying. Linzi had proved herself capable, even if she didn't seem the 'leader' type. But then again, what does she herself know about leadership? Her experience in the matter would hardly be lauded by the common folk, or even the uncommon folk. Once they were assigned their own expedition, Antonia merely bowed politely and accepted all praise that was heaped upon them. However, when it was all said and done, she decided to comment on something she found amusing, "Does anyone else find it strange that the other groups had clear leadership, and we were granted our mission as a whole? Curious. I wonder which of us she might have picked, were she intent on assigning a leader." Her eyes darted to Thomas, then to Lerris, and finally the Judge. "Probably the Judge, hmm? Or perhaps Your Honor prefers to take the more clerical duties..." She trailed off, ensuring to keep herself from saying more before she got herself into trouble.

---

 

Downtime Vignette (Warning: Adult Language)

Deep beneath the city streets of Restov, so deep that it may yet be called a sewer by many of the upstanding citizens, a small, seedy tavern fills with the smell of smoke and soured wine. The lanterns within flicker an orange flame against their red glass cases, drowning the room in their crimson light that gives the poorly-ventilated room an ominous tone. The corner of the room has a poor excuse for a stage, with just enough room to fit the two musicians that played their experimental songs consisting of little more than percussion and a baritone, stringed instrument.

The room is filled with scoundrels and outcasts of all sorts, but most notable is the relaxed figure seated in a thick-cushioned chair. The low light casts dark shadows that fall over her like a cloak, hiding most of her face beyond the puckered lips from which a plume of sickly-sweet smoke billows outwards. Her arms drape loosely over the armrests. In her left hand, a thinly rolled cigar adds its silver wisps to the ambient air. In her right hand, a lazily held rapier, its tip scraping across the stone floor. Lined up to the sides of the figure's chair are two benches, their seats taken by two individuals who clearly are involved with this notable person, and two more who seem more like unofficial guards sitting just past them. One of the 'involved' persons leans forwards, a pale-skinned man with a close-shaven, high-fade haircut. It may look almost military style, had there not been a tattoo scrawled into the side of this one's head that clearly indicates gang affiliation -- a three headed jackal. "So? You score?"  The man asks, sniffing twice in quick succession -- a sign of someone who has dabbled with inhaled narcotics. The voice that responds, the voice of the woman in the big chair, is thickly accented and slurred in a way that indicates intoxication. "Da' hell you think, Nose? Eh?" The response is aggressive, but it doesn't seem to exactly hurt Nose's feelings. "Well?" Nose asks, and after a short delay the woman in the chair sticks the cigar in between thin, dark lips, and reaches into a small pack on the side of her chair to fish out two palm-sized pouches filled with silver. She lazily tosses one pouch to Nose, and one pouch to the other 'involved' individual next to her.

"T'ir-tee. Each. How ees d'is for jus'a night in 'dori's castle? If you like d'at there ees more on the horizon. It will...take me time." The thin cigar bounces between her lips as she talks and she finally plucks it free to ash on the floor beside her. The other man beside her, the one who isn't Nose, finally speaks up. He appears as a muscular, bronze-skinned dwarf sporting a thick beard that was braided and twisted into itself to make a unique cross-knot. When the Dwarf smiles, he displays a shiny, golden tooth near his canines. "T'ree gold? Expected ye' ta' shoo' up wit' more, th'way ye' talked 'bout this job. You gettin' all soft like? Sharin' wit' yer' friends?" The immediate scoff from the woman makes the Dwarf's grin grow wider. That golden tooth shimmers in the red light. "E'soft? F**k d'at, Cargo. D'ere ees more. It will be used as an inves'ment." It is Nose's turn to scoff, and the Dwarf, 'Cargo' merely shakes his head. Cargo continues, "Wot 'bout investin' in keepin' that uppity bitch quiet for months? Yer turnin' a quick job into somethin' that'll last seasons, Vi--" The dwarf's words are cut short as a flash of steel arcs in front of him. Within a second, the point of the woman's rapier is centered against his adam's apple. "Don't use d'at f**king name when I am in a role, Cargo. We've talked on d'is. Never. Never ever." Cargo seems nonplussed by the blade pointed at his throat and raises two fingers to push it away. The woman relents and the arm falls to the side of the chair again with the blade pointed back towards the stone floor. "Fine, Miss Fancy Bri'ches." The woman seems to relax at this, exhaling a near-silent nasal laugh. "I es'sort of like d'at." She confirms, causing Cargo to let out a phlegm-filled laugh and Nose to lean forward again, his fingers twitching and dithering constantly. "We can't keep her like that forever, Fancy. You know that, yeah-yeah?" His nose scrunches twice.

The woman in the chair takes another long drag from the cigar and exhales a thick cloud as she leans forward. Ambient red light spills over her features, revealing a sharp, angular jawline and pointed nose. Antonia reaches down to grab the two fingers of brown liquor that remained in the clouded, dirty glass on the table in front of her. She downs it in a single gulp and clicks her tongue against her two front teeth. "It won't be forever. Relax, Idiota. Give me t'ree months. It will be wort' it. I es'swear it upon my honor." Cargo rolls his eyes and Nose shows his small, crooked teeth in a wide smile. "What honor?" He challenges. Antonia narrows her eyes at him angrily. "What d'eh f**k did you jus' say to me, you drug-addled rat?" Her rolled R's sharpen the foreign accent to a dangerous and aggressive edge. A tense silence between the three allows the discordant, underground music to take the show. Suddenly, the trio bursts out in laughter and Antonia kicks her feet up on the table in front of her, sinking further into her chair. "I have a long trip in front of me, amigos. At leas' try and be good company for once, si?" This seems to be enough to resolve the matter. Although the promise of more silver coins was the true sedative to the supposed aggression.

 

 

 

---

The next day, Antonia was present and accounted for in her finest outfit, consisting mostly of a bland black-and-white color palette. She pulls a small mirror from her pack as they walk, checking her makeup and ensuring that everything is in its place. As they approach the wagon, she turns her full attention to their driver. "Well, yes, obviously the bear can walk. He has legs, after all. But question that may be more suitable is: Should he walk? I, for one, do not want to be on a long trip with a disgruntled ball of teeth and fur..." She gives the bear a look and a shrug. "...no offense." She looks back to Sija and gives a flourishing bow, "Antonia Rullianus, aspiring duelist and fencer extraordinaire, at your service."

 

Mechanics

Downtime: (I hope i'm doing this right)

Going to roll associated lore to earn some income...

EDIT: That's a 10. Which I guess is a fail?

I'd also like to use some downtime to get the +1 Potency rune from the mace put on my rapier. I've paid the 3.5 gold to make that happen and I've also reduced my share of the gold by 6 for story reasons. I will add in any items I purchase below:

- Selling 1 Light Mace (+2sp)

- Selling 1 Chain Shirt (+2gp,5sp)

- Selling 1 Leather Armor (+1gp)

- 1 Studded Leather Armor (-3gp)

- 1 Signal Whistle (-8cp)

- 1 Disguise Kit (-1sp)

- 2 Caltrops (-6sp)

- 1 Marbles (-2sp)

- 1 Powder (-1sp)

- 1 Pup Tent (-8sp)

- 1 Traitor's Ring (-1gp, 5sp)

- 1 Arsenic (-3gp)

- 2 Explorer's Clothing (-2sp)

- 1 Chest (-6sp)

- 1 Air Bladder (-1sp)

- 1 Earplugs (-1sp)

- 1 Writing Set (-1gp)

- 1 Simple Lock (-2gp)
 

Final Gold remaining for Antonia: 2gp, 8sp, 4cp

 

Edited April 20, 2023 by Spektor (see edit history)

[PlotDevice]

Verne Greencloak | HP: 24/24 | AC: 19 | Fort: +5  Ref: +6  Will: +10  Perception: +8 | Hero Points: 3/3 | Spell SlotsDruid 1: 2/2

---

Shardik | HP: 26/26 | AC: 19 | Fort: +6  Ref: +6  Will: +5  Perception: +5

 

In response to Antonia, Verne says, "I suppose it's wise to be wary of predators, just as it's wise to be wary of killers.  But the same goes for friendship and trust, doesn't it?" he shrugs.  "Anyway, I'm sleeping outside because I like to.  Soft beds are nice, but indoors is too stuffy and quiet.  The air doesn't move.  The smells are stale."  He wanders off toward the front gate, and out of the keep, disappearing into the darkness.

 

There is a minor commotion in the kitchens, in the morning, as he and Shardik show up and attempt to trade dead rabbits for pastries.  They seem like invasive vagabonds, and whether the guards would be called, and whether the rabbits would be a fair trade, all becomes moot, as one of the footmen recognizes him from the banquet, and the two hungry young animals are fed bacon and milk and biscuits with jam.  Afterward, they head for the Great Hall, not at all dressed for the occasion, a bit wet, and rather dirty, and they are intercepted by the judge.  Verne accepts the ritual the other man offers, curious, having never heard of such magic before, and listens to the in-depth explanation of the contract, not wanting to reject what his odd new friend would share.  At the end of their discussion, Verne looks up into the older man's eyes.  "I have learned to stand at the center, out of principle." he says.  "I have never met someone who stood so firmly at a corner, out of principle, and not for gain.  Even if you stand between people often, you are always at a corner.  You are a very interesting person." Then he notices Shardik sniffing intently at the cage on the judge's belt.  "No, Shardik!  That is not our business.  Leave it alone." he reprimands the bear.  His furry companion sighs, and wanders off into the great hall, followed by Verne. 

 

He commits to the expedition, and watches as the various groups leave, returning Linzi's hug, and torn between pride and annoyance at Amiri's compliment.  He watches everyone as they leave, but perhaps his eyes linger on the barbarian a little longer.  He heads over to the dais afterward, asking if he can see a map that will allow him to understand the whole area of the stolen lands, and know where everyone is heading, and accepts whatever answer the two noblemen give.  If they don't tell him, he can find out in town later, it's all the same to him.

 

He watches bemusedly as the others debate over who shall keep what and what shall be sold.  Eventually he is handed a handful of coin, and the group walks off to meet their transportation.  In response to Sija's question, Verne looks down at Shardik, then back up at the driver, and answers firmly.  "He will ride with us.  You wouldn't make a child walk, and try to keep up with those great long-legged horses, would you?  His name is Shardik.  And he's rarely disgruntled."  The bear looks up at the new person, sniffing the air intently, but seems to lose interest after a moment, looking around aimlessly.  After the morning's meeting is set, the young man and the bear vanish, as is their wont.

 

The next day, Verne and Shardik arrive at the agreed upon place and time.  They have both had an odd change of attire, as Verne is wearing armor carved from wood, and Shardik is clad in a suit of heavy canvas and chainmail.  The young druid carries a very large sack over his shoulder, and the bear carries in his mouth what appears to be a leather fish, about two feet long. Verne tosses the sack up into the carriage, where it lands with a soft thump, and helps Shardik up the tiny step.  Verne does everything in his power to keep the window seat for as much of the journey as possible, and Shardik lays beneath his seat, alternating between napping and squeaking his salmon toy.  The sack turns out to be a supply of pastries, which Verne shares, but sparingly, to make sure they last for a while. 

 

 

 

Edited April 20, 2023 by PlotDevice (see edit history)

[AnemoneEnemy]

Thomas of Nowhere | AC: 16 | HP: 30/30 | Per: +5 | Fort: +7 | Ref: +8 | Will: +7 | FP: 1/1

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Æthelflæd | AC: 19 |  Per: +4 | Fort: +7 | Ref: +8 | Will: +6

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Thomas comes down the next day, having spent the time enjoying the Lady Aldori's hospitality, and with his own pack stuffed with twists of oiled paper containing delicacies and a small sack of waxed cloth full of other provisions. He greets Sija with his best smile--more charming young lad than swaggering scoundrel, he can read an audience when it's in large print--but looks positively shocked and offended at the notion that Shardik should walk.
"How kin ye say that, Mam? Whit'll I rest against, an' ye make him dauner? Did ye nae see how soft his fur an' how roond his ears? Lookit'em wiggle, like!"

Æthelflæd is at his side, nose extra-pointy and collars crisp, thistledown hair fine and downy. If a black suit in full sunlight troubles the fae, they don't reveal it. They do eye the wagon with a pinched expression that suggests they've returned to their usual self. "My lord," they murmur, "if room is needed, I could certainly walk. In fact, you may not have need on me on the journey. Surely you'll have more room to stretch out if--"
"Haud yer wheesht," Thomas says, patting the fae on the shoulder. "We may have need o' another fer cards or dice. Or mayhaps it may hap that one o' our comrades requires advice on th'best way tae dicht, or plate-setting fer our celebratory feast, suren it may."  

Æthelflæd brightens for a moment. "Oh! Do you really think--?" But Thomas' lips twitch, and the fae's prim expression returns, this time with a tinge of hurt.

He gives Shardik his hand to snuffle, with a few juicy strawberries in it, and gives is muzzle a stratch.
"Hit that wi' a tattie! Puir handsome ye look in yer fine suit, chookie lad."

OOC/mechanics

 

 

 

[Kistler]

Sija Bhatyani - Half-Elf Ranger 2 HP: 32/32 | AC: 19 | Speed: 25ft | Hero: 1/3 | Focus: 1/1 Perception: +8 | Fort: +8 | Ref: +7 | Will: +6  Conditions-None| ResourcesInfused Items: -2x Lesser Antidote -2x Minor Elixir of Life Consumables: - Talismans: - Items: - | AbilitiesFocus Spells: -Gravity Weapon Abilities -Darkvision -Flurry -Monster Hunter Actions: -Hunt Prey -Twin Takedown -Battle Medicine | Skills*Acrobatics: +5 *Arcana: +5 *Athletics: +8 Crafting: +1 Deception: +0 Diplomacy: +0 *Herbalism Lore: +5 Intimidate: +0 *Medicine: +6 **Nature: +8 *Occultism: +5 Performance: +0 *Religion: +6 Society: +1 *Stealth: +5 *Survival: +6 Thievery: +1 *Trained | **Expert | ***Master

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When everyone gathers the leave the next day she looks at the group, and eyes their large sacks and baggage with skepticism. "My wagon is only as big at it is, and horses can only pull so much." She walks over and pats one of the well-kept brown pack horses on the neck. "This is Namitinatajura, and that one is Beans. I won't have them break their backs by pulling too much. Or any friendly, well-trained bears trying to take a nibble." She says with a serious look at Shardik.

She starts tossing bags up onto the roof of the wagon with ease, her wiry arms not straining much under their weight. But she shakes her head as she climbs and and starts tying them down. "This is too much. We'll have to walk in shifts to keep the horses fresh. It you want to walk the whole way and let the bear ride, that's your business."

 

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OOC/Actions Other:  Action 1:  Action 2:  Action 3:  Reaction: None, yet Free:  Exploration Activity:

Feats -Elf Atavism (Darkvision) -Monster Hunter -Battle Medicine -Natural Medicine -Herbalist Dedication --Advanced Alchemy --Alchemical Crafting -Twin Takedown -Gravity Weapon

Appearance Sija looks like a typical Vudran woman, often dressing in the more traditional fabric wrap of her homeland and often a headscarf or shawl. She often wears some form of ornamentation or jewelry on hands, ears, neck, and brow. She is older than most, though as a half-elf she wears her six decades with dignity and grace, with few signs of the decrepitude often seen in similarly aged humans. She is tall, and stands with a straight back and good posture. Her arm is strong and well-corded with sinew and muscle, perhaps appearing a touch wiry, and her skin a bit weathered from years outside. Her hair was once a glossy black, though now it is streaked with gray; more with each passing day.   She can often be found with a cudgel, a wicked-looking curved dagger, and a whip hanging from her belt. She wears these, and warm outer clothes or a cloak to protect her from the elements, when she travels. When expecting trouble she throws a bandolier on that's filled with flasks of healing ointments and poultices.

Gear Worn -Clothing (Winter) -Breastplate -Backpack -Belt Pouch -Healer's tools -Bandolier   Weapons -Club -Corset Knife -2x Dandpatta -Flyssa -5x Darts -Whip   Containers Backpack -Bedroll -Climbing Kit -Rations (2 weeks) -5x Sacks -5x Torches -Waterskin   Bandoliers -4x Flasks Oil   Belt/Pouch -10x Chalk -Crowbar -Flint and Steel -Soap -2x Candles -1gp 6sp 6cp

Edited April 20, 2023 by Kistler (see edit history)