<em>The cool air of the night has just begun to settle as the meeting convenes. The dusty, rural village is ruled by a mayor, rather than a Baron. It is a neural meeting ground for those who were like to assassinate a rival. Boards seem to be half hanging of many of the buildings. The roofs are covered with peat in most cases, though the tavern selected to host the meeting has proper shingles. The palisade ringing the village shows evidence of rot and termites. The tavern itself is rather simple. The Drinkwell it is called, with an image of a man dipping a quill into a mug of beer on the sign. The normal patrons have been barred from it this night, not that there were many. It would not be foolish to suspect that this night was the night the Drinkwell made much of it's coin. <br/><br/>In any case the sweaty, earthy smell of the village gives way to the slightly edge scent of beer and bread inside the tavern. A large circular table, roughly cut and cobbled from a group of boards seats many of the Barons already. Some have the bones and traces of meals in front of them, and many are nursing (or actively waging a campaign of genocide against) drinks. Closest to the bar sits the Inquisitor. She wears the black robes of the inquisition, trimmed with crimson and bearing the white, thorned crown of Iphael. Her blond hair cascades down her back and over her shoulders. Her glove and mailed hands are clasped on the table in front of her. Her features are soft, alluring, but her blue eyes are hard. Burning sapphires full of derision, even as she presents an affable smile to the room at large. <br/><br/>The other barons range in appearance from warlike, to hedonistic, to almost common. Some are armed and armored. Near knights themselves. Others wear loose, opulent robes adorned with jewels and gold. One in particular is dressed as a forest ranger complete with bow. His red hair and beard cloud a face full of disappointment. He taps a finger on the table absently. You do not recognize this man. The others you've seen before. <br/></em><br/><hr/><em>And those in attendance thus far:</em><br/><strong>Baroness Marris</strong>, the human mistress of the Marris Barony. There are rumors about her, ones involving the dungeon of her keep and peasants who find themselves in debt. She is tall for a human woman, black of hair, with copper skin. Often dressed in leathers of black and red, she  has a knowing smile which seems to dissect your very soul. She is also known to be in favor with the inquisition.<br/><br/><strong>Baron Koveks</strong>, a large human man. He wears full plate, complete with helm and visor even now. The few times he has shown his face he is revealed to be... not unattractive. One of the more warlike Barons, he and Lord Quarh clash near constantly over trifles and land. His once brown hair is beginning to turn grey, and his skin is pale.<br/><br/><strong>Baron Emberlain</strong>,is rather round. A merchant by birth, he is one of the few who managed to purchase a Barony. He dresses in purple robes, trimmed with gold thread. In front of him is a box of candies. His bald head shines a bit in the light of the candles, and his soft black eyes appraise you cautiously. He is known to have no lack of cunning and business sense.<br/><br/><strong>Baron Gracebanner</strong>, another warlike baron. His head and face are bare, but he wears ceremonial leather armor. He recently inherited his barony from his ill father. The man still lives, but only just. He is a pale-skinned, black haired young man. He is generally seen as having something to prove in a bad way. There are rumors that he is desperate to expand his lands. His skin is deep brown, and his hair is a dark black.<br/><br/><strong>Baron Quarh</strong>, the second man in plate mail. Quarth freely shows his face, though most would suggest he should not. What isn't burnt or bludgeoned out of shape is scarred. The man has never lost a fight, but has taken more than his share of hits. Aggressive, he seizes any excuse to defend his lands or declare war. Baron Koveks is only too happy to oblige him. He inspires fierce loyalty in his men, and has great numbers. However, he is a poor tactician and wins on brute strength alone, why any would follow him is a mystery.<br/><br/><strong>Baron Perth</strong>, a merchant of great cunning. In addition he is a mage. Possibly the only mage to hold a barony. The icon of the white thorned crown on a black skull is tattooed into his right cheek. The rumor is that this was self inflicted. He traffics in all sort of alchemical and mundane goods. His trading company is up and coming in the kingdom, though the established merchants have been known to fight tooth and nail for any advantage. Even the best bookmakers in the kingdom refuse to put odds on his chances. His brown hair is short and his features are sharp. He wears simple robes of deep brown, trimmed with black. They are not cheap, but practical and durable.<br/><br/><strong>Baroness Windard</strong>, like Quarh, Koveks, and Gracebanner Lady Windard is quite aggressive. Unlike the others, he aggression is often turned outwards. One of the military commanders of the realm, she seeks to expand her barony into the Dispute itself. So far that has proven difficult, but she has made some progress. She wears chainmail, with a long length of red hair, and green eyes.<br/><br/><strong>Baron Starg</strong>, a mild man. He is dressed in a simple leather armor. A uniform of his own personal guard. His grey hair is cropped short to his head. Among Barons he has always been a pillar of reason and moderation. Some think that he was chosen to be a baron ironically. In any case, his barony is efficient with slightly less oppression than most. He isn't an idealist however, and punished sloth, larceny, and irreverence with draconian fervor.<br/><br/><strong>Baroness Orelius</strong>, an aged woman. She wears a grey dress with a slender rapier hanging at her belt. A ceremonial weapon forged from Mythril. Behind her stands a younger mirror of her, her daughter Eris. The girl seems to have been pressed into service as her bodyguard. Not much is known about the Orelius barony. There are rumors that Baroness Orelius was once spymaster for the previous baron and 'somehow' inherited his barony, his children all having died under mysterious circumstances.<br/><hr/><br/>The inquisitor stands, hair curling at the ends, but falling straight as she moves. Her eyes remain hard as she beams as you.<br/>"Please, take a seat. We can find you a simple meal I think, or drink. Perhaps both. The journey must have been long and difficult. Believe me, I appreciate your presence. We shall begin our discussions when you are at ease.", she says, voice as clear as glass, kissed with promises of forbidden pleasures.<br/><br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">OOC</div><div class="spoiler_body">I've set the scene in the tavern, but feel free to describe your arrivals. <br/>You might not be the last ones to arrive...<br/></div></div>