<div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Jazzy</div><div class="spoiler_body">   The visitor gives Jazzy a puzzled look, very briedly. Then he remembers she's a gnome. At her demand for a name he at least did have the courtesy to look chagrined, as he doffed his hat and gave a very small bow. "Timofei Aldori. And I have no intention of harming... Ghlen, was it?" he glances at the jailer, who is doing his best <em>"just doin' my job"</em> routine. "Rather I bring an offer. An exchange." Timofei reached into his jacket, producing a roll of paper. "If you're more interested in serving your nation than getting a new necklace, that is." His grey eyes peered down at her. "All it takes is an an agreement to forswear all banditry, and partake in an expedition into the wilderness to the south, in the Stolen Lands." He's taking it for granted that he doesn't need to explain the location - or its dangers - to a druid.</div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Calim</div><div class="spoiler_body">   "Lady Lebeda, you make it sound almost like I carry a marriage proposal," the man chuckled as he rose, and offered a hand to Calim. "No offense, but you're not my type." The swordlord's grip is light, but his hand is callused from years of swordplay. Ge gestured to one of the empty chairs, before retaking his seat. He sure seems comfortable, huh? "I believe we met, at least briefly at Lord Somnerfast's ball last autumn? You were in the company of... oh, I can't remember her name..." He waves it off. "I'll cut straight to the chase... forgive me, lady Lebeda, but my time is brief." the Lady seems nonplussed about it, though Calim does recognize the little pucker that forms on her lips, inward annoyance at the guest bypassing decorum. He looks back to Calim. "The King-Regent is seeking adventurous souls willing to take up a quest to retake the Stolen Lands. And from what I hear," he adds as he removes a slip of paper from his breast pocket "Is that you are an adventurous soul looking to make a name for himself, and his family."</div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Sophia</div><div class="spoiler_body">   When it was clear no fight was going to break out, the emissary gestures back to his escort... who don't seem to relax much. They do follow his lead as he dismounts though, his boots squelching into the mud. "I thank you for your hospitality, miss Peace-Bond. I am Timofei, of the Aldori." he gave the woman a smile as he took her offered hand. "You simply must tell me how you came by the name..." <br/>   Later, after a meal and - presumably - the story behind Peace-bond's name, Timofei gets down to business. "You know of course of the lands to the south? The Narlmarches, Green Belt, and Kamelands" He took a swallow of whatever brew the tribesmen had offered... He wasn't a fan, but he was in their tent. "The King-Regent would see that ;and brought back to... a modicum of civilization. Right now it's a haven for wild beasts, brigands, and outlaws. Your name was mentioned, as someone who had talents with blade and with words that could be a boon to this endeavor."</div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Wladislaw and Saruma</div><div class="spoiler_body">   Timofei chuckled at Wladizlaw. "The opportunity was already there, sir; I am just an agent of bringing hte right nmes to the right ears." He looked up to Saruma, examining her with those grey eyes. He then looked past her, out the streaked windows of the tavern to the gathering crowd. "Well, they're going to have one less condemned to gawk at." he murmured, before looking back to the two he was sharing a lunch with. "As sir Medvyed says, there is an expedition to tame the Stolen Lands. In fact the formal affirmation should be..." he squints thoughtfully. "In about an hour, actually. Maybe later, who can tell with this damned rain?" </div></div><br/><hr/><br/>It's past midday in Restov. The rain seems to have cut off. Less than an hour ago, the town's more idle (or morbid) residents had gotten a show; five condemned had been hanged in the square, heads bagged, signs hanging from their necks noting their crimes. A sixth noose hung lower than the others, but was empty. Though the show was technically over, people remained in the streets.<br/>For some of you the travel to Restov had taken a few days; others had been there all along. But now you are in the City Hall, an edifice of reddish sandstone topped with a belltower, all done in Taldan style. The open floor is a bustle of activity overseen by the Mayor, a lean and balding man in his mid-fifties. And there was a lot to manage; seventeen people in all had apparently been gathered for this journey; they were a motley lot, mostly human and mostly Brevan, though there were a trio of elf-blooded, two dwarves, and a gnome wearing an exotic assortment of fabrics who was apparently from the distant country of Nex. From this cavalcade of personalities, three expeditions had been formed by lot.<br/>The five of you had drawn straws marked with green ends; your assignment would be to the Green Belt, then, immediately south of some outpost known as "Oleg's Trading Post." Two nobles, a Tiger Lord, a gnome who had<em>just</em>gotten her manacles off an hour and a half ago, and a well-armed catfolk. Who would have guessed? Evidently there are plans for a formal announcement, which is what all the fussing is about. But there's time before then, to at least get some cursory knowledge about the people who are going to have your back against the bandit menace of the Green Belt...