Retaking the Stolen Lands (IC)
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Light =&gt; Light: Exotic Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Chulanowa on 06-01-2017, 23:28:01</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Retaking the Stolen Lands (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Chulanowa</strong> on <strong>06-01-2017, 23:28:01</strong>
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				<div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Jazzy</div><div class="spoiler_body">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;On second thought, maybe you shouldn't have interrupted High Lord Whatsit's fox hunt. Sure hte poor creature was terrified, and you knew damn well His Lordiness wasn't going to eat the creature. Hell, maybe you would have gotten away with it too if you hadn't tried to liberate the fat baron's horse while htey were encamped! How were you to know the party had a keen lookout who was surprisingly good with a rope?<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;So here you are, in a damp little cell somewhere on Restov. It's chilly, the kind of chilly that isn't enough to be "cold" but certainly is a far distance from "warm." Your hands are bound in a pair of iron mittens, and your only company is the tribe of pillbugs that live in the mossy mortar of the walls. As if that weren't bad enough, it's pouring rain outside, which just makes your cell even more damp<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Oh. And you're to be hanged for banditry, assault upon a lord's person, and blasphemy at noon. You probably earned that last one. You can hear the constant tok-tok-tok of laborers putting the scaffold together, though. This is a hell of a way to go, isn't it? You try to rescue one horse with a bad back, and the humans think you need to swing. Who will feed Runt?<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Your musings are interrupted by the sound of a key and the creak of rusted hinges as the gaol door swings open. Some of your fellow prisoners clatter their manacles in their cells to see who it might be, bust most are listless; they're bandits too, and there's enough rope to go around. Hard-soled boots clack on the old stone floor, coming down the hallway, towards... Your cell, apparently, since that's where they stop.<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The viewing window to your cell opens, letting in a beam pf light. There's murmuring, "Yes, that's the one." A moment later, more keys rattle and the whole door swings open, spilling a sudden lake of light into your face from the lanterns the two men are carrying. One of Ghlen, the jailer. He's a large man, with wild grey hair and about as many teeth as fingers - but he's also a decent fellow, as jailers go, so you haven't been able to hate him... they thought of every thing! <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The other fellow... is most assuredly not Ghlen, or anyone like him. Tall, even by human standards, in a brocaded, high-collared green jacket with matching tricorne, boots so new they almost moo, and a curved sword worn in the Aldori style. He nudges the peak of his hat up, giving you a glimpse of grey ice-chip eyes.<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;He cuts right to the point. "You're going to hang today, gnome." His voice is soft, but seemingly indifferent to your plight. "I can change that outcome, though." Under a thin mustache, his lips form a smile.</div></div><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Sophia</div><div class="spoiler_body">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The village has no name; it was just a place to stop during the winter for your people. Now that the thaw has come and new green is filling the trees, your tribe is preparing to move once again. It would be easier if the constant slow train weren't turning the ground into mush. The Kellids don't complain about the weather though, and man, woman, and child all work to get the tribe's winter-thinned belongings in order and prepared for the spring travels.<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;That makes this the worst possible time for the warning-horns of your tribe's lookouts to sound. The sodden quakes from the approach of hooves. You're one of the few in your camp quick enough to grab a weapon before the horsemen are on you - it's only a wooden mattock, but in your hands, it could do real damage.<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;But no attack is forthcoming. The men who ride into camp are clearly more scared of you than you are of them, judging from the armor and shields, but thier weapons are not drawn, unless you count the pointed tips of the pennant-poles, each displaying the double-headed red dragon of Brevoy; at least you think they do, the cloth is soaked htrough and mostly hangs limp as an old man after too much airag.<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The head of the procession stands out; He's not unarmored, but he wears only a breastplate and chain for his arms and legs. A heavy oilskin cloak rests over his shoulders, and he carries no shield - just a long, curved blade. He holds up a chainmailed hand, and calls out in a voice that's probably too light to give commands on a battlefield.<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Peace, friends, we are emissaries.&nbsp; We come to your... camp in search of a woman. The one known as..." He checks a slip of parchment. "Peace Bond." He scans the uneasy crowd with cool grey eyes, as if waiting for a response. Behind him, his mens' horses step, feeling their rider's tension.</div></div><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Calim</div><div class="spoiler_body">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Lake Reykal is the nosiest god-damned lake in the Inner Sea. That you're sure of. The ice is just now breaking up, and the lapping water on the shore carries the rattle and tinkle of ice chips and slush with every little wave. Now and then a more distracting crack or distant boom tells you that even more is breaking up. You have a lot of time to think about this because there you are, standing in the chilly courtyard of Silverhall, awaiting the audience you were summoned for. Your line might be of little account, but neverhteless Dame Sarrona seems to have found reason to call you to the House's ancestral holdings.<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;When the time comes, a servant boy in the house's bluer-than-blue livery fetches you. The lad has a very serious face and moves with all the expectant caution of a page doing his very best to do his very best. When you step inside, your skin prickles from the warmth; Silverhall has no shortage of fireplaces keeping the air inside a delightful contrast against the camp chill outside. Gods above know why they had you wait in that cold. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The page brings you to a great door, made of a fine-grained mahogany, no doubt from the finest trees Mwangi could offer. Set above it is a mosaic of glass and lapis depicting the crest of your family, "Success Through Grace" set in scrollwork beneath it; at least you think it does, the sigil is so old that the Taldane is some archaic dialect. You get hte idea, though.<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Come in, come in," comes a woman's throaty voice, and the page ushers you in, closing the door as he departs. The first thing that catches your eye is the painting; A framed, ceiling-to-floor depiction of some battle or other, Taldane Legions on one side, Qadiran horsemen on the other. Seated at a heavy desk in front of this is a woman of middling age, her blonde hair just starting to catch some grey to it. Her face bears the features you've come to know from women of your family, the high cheeks, strong chin and almond-shaped green eyes. Less familiar is the gentleman in a green coat seated in an overstuffed chair at an angle to the Dame of the house, a tricornered hat resting on his lap. You feel you've seen him before, but you can't place a name to the face.<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Calim, nephew," the woman greets you without rising. The relation is a little more convoluted than that, but whatever. "This is Sir Timofei Aldori," She gestures to the man, who bows his head slightly in greeting. "And he bears an... interesting proposal I think you may be suited to."</div></div><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Wladyzlaw</div><div class="spoiler_body">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Things were getting uncomfortable. You're not one to back down from a fight to be sure, but the political climate in New Stetven was getting the better of you. A constant parade of names to remember, faces to watch, courtiers to sup with, courtiers to never share a drink with, all while the tension between Issia and Rostland grew. You had the distinct, unpleasant sensation that better politicians than you were maneuvering you into a corner. No idea why they would, but in the courts of the capital, even small victories can be triumphs for someone. It was time to relieve yourself of the city.<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Which is why you're sitting in a tavern in Restov, enjoying a midday constitutional; You can't get greasy, delicious sausage and plain, heady beer like this at a court dinner, for sure. You have to admit that the atmosphere could be better; the tavern's floor is wooden slats and straw over dirt, the day is overcast and wet, and to top it off, the constables are putting together a gallows in the square just outside. Already a crowd is gathering for the spectacle. Wretched creatures.<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Pardon my tardiness," a soft voice interrupts your train of thoughts, its owner taking hte liberty of seating himself at your table. You recognize him; Lord Timofei, your contact. "I had a prior engagement, pertaining to the matter." He tugged off his calf-skin cloves and waved for the barmaid to bring him a helping of what you're having. "I've spoken with the Mayor on your behalf, and all the arrangements have been made. Plus some..." He waves a hand and another figure steps over from a corner, moving with a lithe, dare I say... feline grace...</div></div><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Saruma</div><div class="spoiler_body">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The orders from your lord had been explicit enough. "Find my damned brother before he gets himself killed." There was more to it than that of course; Lord Bazyli had worked himself into a fine temper about his brother-in-law, three different cousins, the price of timber, and the dreadful weather all at once. Privately you thought maybe he ought to ease back on the maple whiskey, but far be it from you to say as much. <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The point is, the lord of your household commanded you to track down his brother and make sure he didn't end up poisoned by some Rostlander noble or another. The trail was actually easy enough to follow - Wladyslaw had tried to cover his tracks, but he was never the most subtle son of the household. That trail led straight to some Aldori knight or another, and this is where you were surprised; the swordlord was waiting for you ,and he was more than happy to take you to Lord Wladyslaw... if you would hear his proposal first.<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;So now here you are, following this Issian human through the muddy streets of Restov, waiting for his cue... there. Some dank little tavern, he's sitting with the knight you've been seeking; You hadn't believed at first that Lord Wladyslaw would be seeking to quit Brevoy to go on some mad adventure in the barbarian lands of the south, but the aldori knight had made a fine case for you to join that same endeavor. Go figure. At the swordlord's gesture, you approach...</div></div><br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Retaking the Stolen Lands (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Bibliophilia</strong> on <strong>07-01-2017, 02:03:33</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/74/ed/5e/74ed5eef10c825703fce975c55e5529c.jpg)</div>&nbsp; <strong><em><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: gabriola;" class="bbc_font">Jazzy Feldspar</span></span></em></strong> (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1053846)<br>CN Gnome Druid (Feyspeaker)<br>&nbsp; <em>low-light vision</em><br><strong>Init:</strong> +2; <strong>Hp:</strong> 10/10; <strong>Fey Magic SLAs</strong>: 4/4; <strong>Faerie Dragon SLAs</strong>: 6/6<br><strong>AC</strong> 18 (touch 13, flat-footed 16); <strong>Fort</strong> +4, <strong>Ref</strong> +2, <strong>Will</strong> +3<br><br><strong>Languages:</strong> Common, Gnome, Sylvan, Druidic, Aklo, Draconic<br><br><hr><hr><br>"See, they think that hanging me will teach me a lesson, but they've never <em>met</em> me before.&nbsp; They don't get that I'm very stubborn, and that horse was entirely too delicate to be carrying around a man that fat."&nbsp; She noted thoughtfully to the pillbugs, having been chatting with them since they'd tossed her into the cell.&nbsp; She could sense their interest and agreement, and felt that if the pillbugs were to serve as her jury, she would most certainly get off without a hanging.&nbsp; In fact, they might grant her a good citizen award.&nbsp; It was really too bad that people were less sensible than pillbugs.<br><br>She squinted at the sudden influx of light and tilted her head to peer up at the tall man, trying not to stare at his mustache, as she assumed doing so would make him less inclined to help her.&nbsp; "If you're talking about busting me out, you shouldn't detail your plan in front of Ghlen.&nbsp; He's a very good jailer and he takes his job seriously, so he'd feel obligated to stop you."&nbsp; She glanced at Ghlen and flashed him a reassuring smile, so that he wouldn't feel she was upset over the fact that he would prevent her escape.&nbsp; It was just his job, after all.&nbsp; He couldn't help that he had less sense than a pillbug.<br><br>"If part of your plan involves knocking Ghlen out, however, then I hope you'll be careful.&nbsp; I'd like to get free and not go for a swing, but I'd feel quite guilty if poor Ghlen had to endure too much pain on my behalf.&nbsp; He's really a decent guy."&nbsp; She nodded and stood up, careful to avoid stepping on the bugs as she crossed her cell to get a bit closer to the door, wincing at the ugly metal sound of her chains.&nbsp; "Also, my name is Jazzy, not gnome, human.&nbsp; Now, you tell me your name.&nbsp; That's how civilized discourse works, so I'm told."
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				Title: <strong>Re: Retaking the Stolen Lands (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wargtass</strong> on <strong>07-01-2017, 03:27:37</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/a/ae/Wlady200px.png)</div>&nbsp; <strong><em><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: gabriola;" class="bbc_font">Wladyzlaw Medvyed</span></span></em></strong> (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1054889)<br>LG Human Cavalier (Courtly Knight)<br>&nbsp; <em>low-light vision</em><br><strong>Init:</strong> +1; <strong>Hp:</strong> 12/12; <strong>Challenge SLA</strong>: 1/1<br><strong>AC</strong> 20 (touch 11, flat-footed 19); <strong>Fort</strong> +4, <strong>Ref</strong> +1, <strong>Will</strong> -1<br><br><strong>Languages:</strong> Common<br><br><hr><hr><br>Wladyzlaw looked up from the thick layer of foam atop his drink to meet the other man's eyes. Lord Timofei was by all accounts a good man, <em>for an Issian</em>, even though he like many of the nobles of Brevoy were a little too into politics for the young knight's own tastes. But that was a merit in this case. He had heard of Brevoy's royal court wanting to tame the Greenbelt for years, but it was only a few months ago someone had begun pulling the strings to make it a reality. Adventuring into the wild lands to the south and bringing proper civilization to it sounded like a quest fit for a true noble of knightly virtues and resolute will. In other words, perfectly fit for Wladyzlaw. To that end his friend Timofei had served as a great ally in securing him a place on the venture.<br><br>"Grand news indeed, Timofei. I hope it didn't strain your fortunes to make this little dream of mine a reality..." He paused a moment as he heard cheers from the bloodthirsty crowd outside. Probably the work of local jesters making light of the public execution about to happen. Even the barbarians of the tribes in the east didn't take this much enjoyment out of killing someone. Especially not in such a cowardly fashion as hanging.<br><br>He watches as a rather familiar figure approaches the table at Lord Timofei's beckon and his dour expression is lit up with a smile as he recognizes her. "Saruma! I haven't seen you in years!" He stood up and stepped up to her, putting&nbsp; his hands on her shoulders and eyeing her from top to toe and up top again. "My, you have grown into quite a woman. Master of the Hunt I hear? But never mind that, come sit with us, have something to eat on my coin, I insist." He lead her to the table and took his seat again. "Are you coming along to the Greenbelt then? Tim- Lord Timofei has helped me with arranging the venture. I am ever so elated to see that you will be part of it."
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				Title: <strong>Re: Retaking the Stolen Lands (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rummy Tum Tum</strong> on <strong>07-01-2017, 05:08:58</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk52/bopperstopper/51da85c9-064b-4d37-9da0-591ad17e6fa8_zpsraxkvcv4.jpg)</div>&nbsp; <strong><em><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: comic sans;" class="bbc_font">Calim Lebeda</span></span></em></strong> (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1054886)<br><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: comic sans;" class="bbc_font"><em>CG Human Bard 1</em><br><br><strong>Init:</strong> +3; <strong>Hp:</strong> 9/9; <strong>Spell slots:</strong> 1st: 2/2; <strong>Performances</strong>: 7/7<br><strong>AC</strong> 15 (touch 13, flat-footed 12); <strong>Fort</strong> +1, <strong>Ref</strong> +6, <strong>Will</strong> +1<br><br><strong>Languages:</strong> Common, Giant, Dwarven, Elven<br><strong>Current Performance:</strong> None</span></span><br><hr><hr><br>Oh, how pristine and grand the castle was. How cold and uninviting its surroundings. A perfect representation of his family, if he said so himself. He would applaud it all, if he weren't freezing his ass off. And he had been freezing for quite some time. <em>"A fur cloak will do you good, my son."</em> His father had said, he and his mother positively beaming at the child they'd otherwise ignored. This fur cloak didn't do him very good at all. He needed to stack a few more on top of it, at the very least. He'd create his own cloak fortress in this courtyard if he had to, if just to gain some much needed warmth. And Gods, those damned waves. Were they completely made out of chunks of ice? The sound was nearly deafening, and it carried on incessantly. Standing there in veritable solitude, he just couldn't stop complaining. And he hated complaining.<br><br>After so much waiting, Silverhall's doors finally opened, and he was welcomed inside. "It's just so good to be nobility." He muttered under his breath, which floated upward in a fog as he entered the castle. The heat was an instant comfort, so much so that he had to stop and enjoy the feeling of it along with the castle's decor. This was to his escort's chagrin, he had no doubt. The page did manage to maintain an air of professionalism, but it was very clear he was in a hurry. Calim continued following on, having no desire to hinder his work and get him into trouble.<br><br>He wasn't surprised that he'd been so easily found and called upon by the Dame of his House. He was only surprised that she'd even thought of him. Even in taking notice of his close family, his brother was surely the one to call about whatever the hell this matter was. Calim himself was just a bard. A very talented bard, of course, not yet recognized fully for his skill and charms, but a bard nonetheless. He inclined his upper body in a small bow to his aunt, for lack of a convenient term. Honestly, he could easily recite his exact relation to her, it having been drilled into his head as a child, but that would be so very tedious. "Dear aunt, it is a pleasure." And with that, it was time to let the bullshit begin.<br><br>He would have went on to comment about the painting and loveliness of the castle, but she seemed keen on skipping straight to the point. The eschewing of niceties was both relieving and disconcerting in his mind. Emerald orbs followed his relative's gesture over to the man beside her, and he nodded courteously while taking in his features. "Good to meet you, sir. I'll gladly hear you out." As though he had a choice in the matter. <em>'No arranged marriage. No arranged marriage...'</em> He repeated inwardly, a genial smile plastered on his handsome face.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Retaking the Stolen Lands (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>HopeFox</strong> on <strong>07-01-2017, 06:58:21</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/6f/Irene66.jpg)</div>&nbsp; <strong><em><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: gabriola;" class="bbc_font">Sophia Peace-Bond</span></span></em></strong> (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1054749)<br>NG Human Barbarian (Scarred Rager)<br>&nbsp; <em>low-light vision</em><br><strong>Init:</strong> +2; <strong>Hp:</strong> 16/16; <strong>Rage rounds</strong>: 7/7; <strong>Fey Magic SLAs</strong>: 4/4<br><strong>AC</strong> 15 (touch 12, flat-footed 13); <strong>Fort</strong> +5, <strong>Ref</strong> +2, <strong>Will</strong> +0<br><br><strong>Languages:</strong> Common, Hallit<br><br><hr><hr><br>Winter was always a trying time for the Tiger Lords. In the warmer months, the hunters hunted, the foragers foraged, the warriors warred, and everyone rode. The Kellids were made for life on the hoof, travelling miles every day to get to the next good grazing ground or game hunting site. But in winter, the tribe set down its stakes, and the hunters stayed inside and argued. The foragers stayed inside and argued. The warriors stayed inside and fought each other. Tensions were high, and a disagreement that could be avoided in summer simply by not seeing the other person for a week festered into resentment and short tempers in the winter. Sophia Peace-Bond had her hands full keeping her tribemates from each others' throats, and truth be told, there were a few faces among the tribe that she would like to rearrange if they pushed her <em>one more time</em>. So, all in all, it was a relief to see the spring thaw coming around, with its promise of renewed travel and the chance to replenish their stores of food.<br><br>At the sound of the warning-horns, Sophia spat out a curse and grabbed a mattock that was about to be strapped to one of the mounts. She jogged towards the centre of the camp, mattock in hand, ready to form up with the other warriors to face the incoming threat. <em>This never comes at a good time, does it?</em> she thought to herself. <em>Everyone's hungry and half of our stuff is already packed. Oh well, maybe a fight will do us good.</em><br><br>When she saw that the new arrivals were not hostile, she relaxed her grip on the mattock, holding it near its head to show that she did not intend to use it as a weapon. She cast an appraising glance over the armed men and the horses they rode, taking in their bedraggled appearance with some measure of pity.<br><br>Upon hearing her name, she stepped forward, pursing her lips in surprise. She raised her hand and nodded to the leader of the procession. "I am Sophia Peace-Bond," she called out, her voice strong and clear, with its odd fey lilt. "And who are you, men of Brevoy?"<br><br>If these men were not here for a fight, then they were guests, and needed to be treated as such, regardless of the inconvenience. "You, boy!" she shouted to one of her cousins, a child of no more than ten. "Bring some meat and cheese for our guests!" She stepped closer to the emissary, and extended her hand to him. "You have clearly travelled far. I hope your mounts are well. Please, be welcome among us, and tell me what I can do for Brevoy."
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				Title: <strong>Re: Retaking the Stolen Lands (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CalliLurk</strong> on <strong>09-01-2017, 16:35:07</strong>
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				She smirked as she was noticed, well that made her job easier and approached the table the Wlady was at and cocked her head as he put his hands on her shoulders and nodded slowly adjusting her bow and quiver so she could sit once he let go of her. She nodded to Tim and smiled, which looked odd on her muzzle do to those so pointy teeth showing off to him. "I am M'Lord. I think it will be most interesting. You need someone to make sure you stay alive and no one better then me to do it." She was a cocky little thing.<br><br>"There also seems to be something going on out there. We best be careful. I'm not letting anything happen before we get into proper danger and then we can have some fun." She still disliked cities as a whole and was ready to get out and about. She glanced at Tim seeming to be ready to told where and what they were doing unsure if Wlady was going to fill her in exactly what was up or not.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Retaking the Stolen Lands (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Chulanowa</strong> on <strong>20-01-2017, 12:50:20</strong>
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				<div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Jazzy</div><div class="spoiler_body">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;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 onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Calim</div><div class="spoiler_body">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"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 onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Sophia</div><div class="spoiler_body">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;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>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;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 onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Wladislaw and Saruma</div><div class="spoiler_body">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;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>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;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>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;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.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;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...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Retaking the Stolen Lands (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>HopeFox</strong> on <strong>20-01-2017, 16:50:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/6f/Irene66.jpg)</div>&nbsp; <strong><em><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: gabriola;" class="bbc_font">Sophia Peace-Bond</span></span></em></strong> (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1054749)<br>NG Human Barbarian (Scarred Rager)<br>&nbsp; <em>low-light vision</em><br><strong>Init:</strong> +2; <strong>Hp:</strong> 16/16; <strong>Rage rounds</strong>: 7/7; <strong>Fey Magic SLAs</strong>: 4/4<br><strong>AC</strong> 15 (touch 12, flat-footed 13); <strong>Fort</strong> +5, <strong>Ref</strong> +2, <strong>Will</strong> +0<br><br><strong>Languages:</strong> Common, Hallit<br><br><hr><hr><br>Sophia shook Timofei's hand and led him to the tent she shared with three other unmarried women of the tribe. They hurriedly threw a meal together for Timofei - not much of one, considering the circumstances, but enough to satisfy their guest's hunger and the demands of hospitality. Sophia noted with pleasure that Timofei partook of the airag she offered him, glad that he took their customs seriously. For that, she would do him the same courtesy.<br><br>"My name? Oh, I got that a few years ago, before I was a woman, even. I'm sure you know that there can be trouble between the tribes in this land, or even within them, between families. I have something of a knack for keeping the peace." The name had started as an insult, but there was no need to tell him that.<br><br>As they began to discuss the lands to the south, Sophia led Timofei outside again, snatching up a piece of cheese and flatbread on her way out. She cast her arm towards the south. "Yes, the Greenbelt. We've always had trouble with that area, what with bandits trying to seize our herds for their own. Not to mention all the monsters. If things could be a little tamer down there, everyone would benefit. I'd like to be part of this."<br><br>She conferred with her tribemates, then unpacked the communal possessions from her horse Comet, and replaced them with her personal travelling gear. She vaulted into the saddle like a woman born in it, which she may well have been. "Let us be off, then!"<br><br><hr><br>Sophia stood in the city hall, obviously ill at ease. She had left Comet outside, with a swatch of colourful cloth tied to her saddle to show that she belonged to a Tiger Lord. The staff of the hall had assured her that her horse would be perfectly safe, but still she fretted.<br><br>She wanted to make a good impression on the leaders of the expedition, and the men and women with whom she would be travelling, so she wore her best yellow felt tunic along with her leather pants. Her tunic might have exposed a great deal of her bosom had it not been for the rows of necklaces and fetishes dangling from her neck. Her gleaming silver axe was strapped to her back, alongside her backpack and a long quiver. Her long brown hair was carefully tied in its dreadlocks, with feathers and other fetishes woven into their ends. In spite of her careful grooming, it was evident that she had not bathed for several weeks... months?<br><br>Sophia looked down at the piece of straw in her hand, then up at the people who would, apparently, be accompanying her on this mission. A well-mixed group, to be sure, but they would need a variety of skills to survive in such hostile land. She scanned the group carefully, then extended her hand to the nearest one of them. "Well met," she said, offering a solid handshake. "I am Sophia Peace-Bond, of the Tiger Lords. I understand we will be journeying together."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Retaking the Stolen Lands (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wargtass</strong> on <strong>20-01-2017, 18:53:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/a/ae/Wlady200px.png)</div>&nbsp; <strong><em><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: gabriola;" class="bbc_font">Wladyzlaw Medvyed</span></span></em></strong> (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1054889)<br>LG Human Cavalier (Courtly Knight)<br>&nbsp; <em>low-light vision</em><br><strong>Init:</strong> +1; <strong>Hp:</strong> 12/12; <strong>Challenge SLA</strong>: 1/1<br><strong>AC</strong> 20 (touch 11, flat-footed 19); <strong>Fort</strong> +4, <strong>Ref</strong> +1, <strong>Will</strong> -1<br><br><strong>Languages:</strong> Common<br><br><hr><hr><br>Wladyzlaw had spent most of the hour at the tavern conferring with Timofei and Saruma about the lands south of Brevoy. In the end he couldn't glean anything more than that it seemed like a vile and treacherous land full of villains, wild beasts and terrible monsters. Which suited him just fine. It was after all what he had hoped for in this adventure. A chance to make his own name rather than ride coattails on that of his father's. Even the name was endearing to him; The Stolen Lands. And here he was, about to become the vanguard of the efforts to retake it for his regent. To say that he was excited for the endeavor ahead was an understatement.<br><br>Once the hour drew near to its end they made their way to the city hall, which Wladyzlaw noted was relatively abuzz with activity. It was a strange mix of people that had gathered, both of racial and cultural diversity. He was confident though, having been raised to bridge these kinds of differences. He was fairly certain he could even talk a goblin into cooperation, if the goblin spoke enough Taldan to understand and be understood that was. Otherwise it was generally a waste of time to be parlaying with the little scamps. He barely had the time to introduce himself to anyone however as they were quickly corralled to draw straws of all things. It wasn't exactly as prestigious as he had first imagined it. It seemed rather... common. Like they were being allotted to teams in a tournament melee. He wrinkled his nose at the spectacle but drew a straw nonetheless, noting the green colored tip. The Green Belt.<br><br>He turned to face the others and it didn't take long for him to find the other candidates. Four in all, out of which he seemed to faintly recognize all. There was Saruma of course, who had enjoyed his father's sponsorship throughout most of her life and was a Master of Hunt in House Medvyed. Then there was a gnome, who he couldn't quite place in memory, although for some reason he thought of pink when he saw her. The human male looked like a fine Rostlander to be sure and carried himself like a noble, so it was quite safe to assume he was from House Lebeda, although he could swear he had met him at some event involving a lot of drinks and possibly a brawl. Hopefully they had both been on the same side. Then there was the young human woman, who only needed to be to make herself announced. While certainly beautiful she was without a trace of a doubt a Tiger Lord. Again there was something familiar about her face that struck him like a nail in the back of his head.<br><br>And there was of course Wladyzlaw himself, clad in the rather modest style of the Medvyedian line. Modest that was in cut rather than material. The simple tunic and hoses were still luxurious and well made, lined with beautiful patterns and stitching. His high polished boots looked like they had never known the touch of mud and his travelers cloak was far too clean and decorated with far too much mink to be properly called such. He was clearly a noble, but one could still glean from the rather rustic and simple cut of his clothes that he came from the House nestled in the middle of the Gronzi forest. As the barbarian woman spoke his face split up in a wide smile as he stepped up and took her hand in a strong firm shake. He had accompanied his father enough on his emissary missions to know that the Tiger Lords didn't much appreciate the flair of Brevoy courtly greetings with their flourishes and whatnot.<br><br>"Well met indeed, Sophia! Seems we are all bound for the Green Belt no?" He turned to face the others as well, beaming with a sort of enthusiasm that seemed to permeate his surroundings. He clicked the heels of his boots twice and bowed at the waist, a common mode of greetings among the knights of the realm. "Sir Wladyzlaw Stanislawicz Medvyed, at your service."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Retaking the Stolen Lands (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Bibliophilia</strong> on <strong>20-01-2017, 20:50:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/74/ed/5e/74ed5eef10c825703fce975c55e5529c.jpg)</div>&nbsp; <strong><em><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: gabriola;" class="bbc_font">Jazzy Feldspar</span></span></em></strong> (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1053846)<br>CN Gnome Druid (Feyspeaker)<br>&nbsp; <em>low-light vision</em><br><strong>Init:</strong> +2; <strong>Hp:</strong> 10/10; <strong>Fey Magic SLAs</strong>: 4/4; <strong>Faerie Dragon SLAs</strong>: 6/6<br><strong>AC</strong> 18 (touch 13, flat-footed 16); <strong>Fort</strong> +4, <strong>Ref</strong> +2, <strong>Will</strong> +3<br><br><strong>Languages:</strong> Common, Gnome, Sylvan, Druidic, Aklo, Draconic<br><br><hr><hr><br>She cocked a brow at the proposal, and his name, her lips forming the syllables of his given name soundlessly, before cracking into a small grin.&nbsp; "Anyone ever told you that your first name is incredibly satisfying to say?&nbsp; Makes your lips and tongue do all sorts of interesting things, and then ends with a perky sort of trill.&nbsp; Tih-muh-fay!&nbsp; Tih-muh...tih-muh...faaaay!"&nbsp; She beamed up at him and then shifted her gaze to the paper he was holding, lifting her hands to place one over her left breast and the other upright with the palm facing him.&nbsp; "I do solemnly swear on all things vibrant, venomous, verdant and voluptuous that from this day forth, I will forswear all forms of banditry, calumny, thievery, highway robbery, wickedness, devilment, jackanappary, naughtiness and tomfoolery.&nbsp; From now on, I will be a model citizen, helping old people cross the road, feeding the hungry, healing the sick, crafting crutches for the lame, bathing the infirm..."&nbsp; She goes on like that for a while, almost seeming to be talking to herself, before finally snapping back with a blink.&nbsp; "...enduring the insufferable.&nbsp; Uhm...amen?"&nbsp; She peered up at him with a slightly puzzled expression, as if she'd forgotten what she was doing and swearing for.&nbsp; "Will that work?"<br><br><hr><br>Apparently it would, because she found herself in a room full of tall people, holding a stick in one hand and gnawing a roasted bird leg with the other.&nbsp; They hadn't bothered feeding her in prison, since she was set to dangle and it likely seemed a waste, so after she'd been freed, one of her first stops was a tavern for food.&nbsp; Her eyes wandered over the others with their green sticks and she grinned around a mouthful of meat, swallowing before piping up.&nbsp; "Oh, good...You all look sufficiently large enough for me to hide behind.&nbsp; I hope none of you are allergic to frogs or gnomes, otherwise we might have to swap you out for someone in another group.&nbsp; In fact...I wonder if we're allowed to do that.&nbsp; Someone else might be more useful than a pretty man in fancy clothes or a cat woman."&nbsp; She pretended to peer at the other groups with interest, her lips twitching in amusement and giving away her ruse.<br><br>Finally, she dropped the act with a snicker and offered forth the small hand not currently holding the leg of roast beast, beaming.&nbsp; "I'm Jazzy Feldspar.&nbsp; I ride a giant frog named Runt, but he's currently outside the city...something about people being frightened he might eat their kids.&nbsp; Talk about paranoid parents.&nbsp; I'm glad we got the Greenbelt.&nbsp; It's way more interesting than those other boring places the others groups are going to.&nbsp; They don't even have Greater Feathered Mantises or Voracious Thogwhomps in them.&nbsp; Yaaa-aaawn."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Retaking the Stolen Lands (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rummy Tum Tum</strong> on <strong>20-01-2017, 22:52:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk52/bopperstopper/51da85c9-064b-4d37-9da0-591ad17e6fa8_zpsraxkvcv4.jpg)</div>&nbsp; <strong><em><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: comic sans;" class="bbc_font">Calim Lebeda</span></span></em></strong> (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1054886)<br><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: comic sans;" class="bbc_font"><em>CG Human Bard 1</em><br><br><strong>Init:</strong> +3; <strong>Hp:</strong> 9/9; <strong>Spell slots:</strong> 1st: 2/2; <strong>Performances</strong>: 7/7<br><strong>AC</strong> 15 (touch 13, flat-footed 12); <strong>Fort</strong> +1, <strong>Ref</strong> +6, <strong>Will</strong> +1<br><br><strong>Languages:</strong> Common, Giant, Dwarven, Elven<br><strong>Current Performance:</strong> None</span></span><br><hr><hr><br>Calim felt relief surge through him when it was revealed that no marriage was to be proposed, and he cracked a grin at the man's joke as he shook his hand. He'd take a seat, noting the subtle displeasure in Dame Sarrona's expression. It was the same sort of look his mother used to give him when he made an arse out of himself in public. He had no such luck when it came to dour reactions, as his chin tended to shake when he was distressed. Many a time had he been accused of being a crybaby growing up because of this.<br><br>The mention of Lord Somnerfast's ball brought back some pleasant memories. He'd enjoyed himself, but in no small part thanks to the lady he'd met there. She was one of the small number of people he'd dated in his life, let alone bedded. But of course, he managed to cock up that relationship quickly enough. At the very least, he'd learned how much his priorities lied with the bardic lifestyle, and never to let things come down to a choice between his lover and his music.<br><br>Aldori was spot on in his assumptions. Adventure and fame were concepts that often danced through his mind. This offer was perfect. Perhaps too perfect, but he wouldn't complain. He had a nose for opportunity, and he could smell it now.<br><br><strong>"So, I expect this venture is well-funded?"</strong><br><br><hr><br>And so Calim rode into town on his mule. Edward was the name he'd decided for the mount when he'd first laid eyes on it in the stables those few months back. And it had remained so even after he soon discovered that he was a she. After dismounting the less than noble steed and leaving her to be stabled, he strode into City Hall with the air of a consummate noble. He drew his lots with a hidden glee, just adoring the random chance of it all. To think that the people he'd fight and possibly die with were chosen by the luck of the draw was an exhilarating prospect.<br><br>Finally standing among the group of five, he examined his new companions with care. Most looked rather tough, aside from the gnome, who appeared more cute than anything. But of course, he knew not to misjudge a gnome by their appearance. He'd learned that lesson the hard way some time ago. As a matter of fact, she looked-- no, she couldn't be. He took in the names as introductions began, and a wide grin spread across his face as the familiar looking male said his name. <strong>"My fair Wlady! I knew I recognised you. We beat up nobles together."</strong> Well, more like were beat up by nobles, but he figured that was best left out in front of their compatriots.<br><br>He turned to Jazzy as she spoke, wondering with a small smirk whether she was referring to him as the pretty and fancily dressed one. The clothes he wore were made of fine enough fabrics and somewhat intricate design, so it could pass as fancy. As for his looks, he had no doubt about that. With an easy grin, he took her small hand in his and shook it. Just from her introduction alone, he felt certain that he'd like her. <strong>"The only thing I don't like about frogs are the taste, so I'm sure you have nothing to worry about."</strong> His gaze shifted from person to person again, and with a bright smile, he said, <strong>"Well, I must admit I'm surprised to see I'm surrounded by such stunning individuals. That includes you, Wlady."</strong> He offered the man a playful wink. His comment was true enough. Even when it came to the Catfolk woman, he found himself very much fancying her eyes, ears, tail, and figure. <strong>"Calim Lebeda is my name. Music and adventure is my game-- er, are my games."</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Retaking the Stolen Lands (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CalliLurk</strong> on <strong>21-01-2017, 05:44:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She had stayed beside her sponsors son the entire time they were in the tavern. When it was time to head out she was still there shifting her bow and arrows on her back and walking with a sort of grace that only one of her sort could have. Not only did she have that feline grace about her but there was something more, something trained about it. She assessed the threats to Wlady once there and followed him to the straws and drew the same color. If it wasn't rigged then the luck of the draw was quite good.<br><br>Once the group assembled she nodded to each in turn and let her eyes roam a bit over Calim and then those eyes of hers widened slightly and her teeth bared slightly. "I heard about that when I was at the estate. It sounded like it would have been a site to see." She turned to the others flicking her tail several times lazily. "Saruma, Master of the Hunt for House Medveyd. I have known his lordship most of my life actually. It will be an honor to travel with all of you to the Green Belt."<br><br>She looked back at the gnome a little annoyed. "Shall we see who can handle the wilds there better?".&nbsp; She seemed to think this a jest though a poorly made one. She was going to take the protection of the group very seriously though and it might get her into a tab bit of trouble.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Retaking the Stolen Lands (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>HopeFox</strong> on <strong>22-01-2017, 08:40:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/6f/Irene66.jpg)</div>&nbsp; <strong><em><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: gabriola;" class="bbc_font">Sophia Peace-Bond</span></span></em></strong> (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1054749)<br>NG Human Barbarian (Scarred Rager)<br>&nbsp; <em>low-light vision</em><br><strong>Init:</strong> +2; <strong>Hp:</strong> 16/16; <strong>Rage rounds</strong>: 7/7; <strong>Fey Magic SLAs</strong>: 4/4<br><strong>AC</strong> 15 (touch 12, flat-footed 13); <strong>Fort</strong> +5, <strong>Ref</strong> +2, <strong>Will</strong> +0<br><br><strong>Languages:</strong> Common, Hallit<br><br><hr><hr><br>Sophia smiled as Wladyzlaw shook her hand. "It seems we are! It will be quite the adventure, if my last foray into that land was any guide." She tilted her head to one side as he introduced himself. "Stanislawicz? We had dealings with a Stanislaw Medvyed a while back - your father? He wanted our help in making sure one of his trade caravans wasn't raided." <em>By us.</em><br><br>She cast her arm out to encompass the crowded hall. "Timofei and his employers are casting a wide net for settlers, aren't they? I've heard languages I don't recognize at all. Nice cloak, by the way," she continued, indicating the mink trim on his travelling cloak.<br><br>Sophia turned to greet the rest of their new companions, and started by taking Jazzy's hand, giving it a much more gentle shake than she had Wladyzlaw's. "A giant frog, really? How giant are we talking here?" She held up a hand at the height of Jazzy's head, then raised it a few feet, trying to imagine a frog the size of a riding pony. "I've seen frogs that can eat large rats, but nothing rideable." She chuckled at Jazzy's joke, tilting her head towards Wladyzlaw. "I'm sure he's got another outfit. Unless he wants to impress the horses."<br><br>A grin tugged at the edges of her mouth as Calim made his flirtatious introduction. "Well met, Calim. I'm sure we could all do with a song once we're on the trail, as long as you can keep up with everyone else."<br><br>Finally, she gave Saruma a respectful bow. "You and Wladyzlaw have worked together before? Excellent. We are off to a good start already."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Retaking the Stolen Lands (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Bibliophilia</strong> on <strong>22-01-2017, 22:27:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/74/ed/5e/74ed5eef10c825703fce975c55e5529c.jpg)</div>&nbsp; <strong><em><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: gabriola;" class="bbc_font">Jazzy Feldspar</span></span></em></strong> (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1053846)<br>CN Gnome Druid (Feyspeaker)<br>&nbsp; <em>low-light vision</em><br><strong>Init:</strong> +2; <strong>Hp:</strong> 10/10; <strong>Fey Magic SLAs</strong>: 4/4; <strong>Faerie Dragon SLAs</strong>: 6/6<br><strong>AC</strong> 18 (touch 13, flat-footed 16); <strong>Fort</strong> +4, <strong>Ref</strong> +2, <strong>Will</strong> +3<br><br><strong>Languages:</strong> Common, Gnome, Sylvan, Druidic, Aklo, Draconic<br><br><hr><hr><br>After shaking hands and making with the introductions, Jazzy sat cross-legged on the floor in the midst of her party and shifted her bag to her lap.&nbsp; Reaching in, she pulled out a large hunk of bread that replaced the gnawed chicken bone, which had been tossed carelessly over her shoulder and onto the floor.&nbsp; She chewed at the bread as she peered up at the others, leaning back on one hand and, generally, getting comfortable.&nbsp; "Right, so I'll remember that the cat doesn't have much of a sense of humor.&nbsp; Why the hell is that so common with you archery types?&nbsp; Is it something to do with you guys believing your own hype, or is it killing from a distance that somehow turns your hearts to ice?&nbsp; I've <em>literally</em> never met one of you who wasn't all steely-eyed and grim as a fucking funeral."&nbsp; She grinned at Saruma with a wink, then looked up at Sophia, blowing a dredlock out of her eyes.&nbsp; "He's bigger than a breadbox, but not <em>quite</em> as big as your average house.&nbsp; I keep telling him to go on a diet, 'cause he's getting fat, but he never listens."<br><br>"So, how many of you have ever been to the Greenbelt...or the Stolen Lands, period?&nbsp; The furthest I've been is New Stetvan, myself.&nbsp; My people desire to return to our home, but we know better than to venture too far south alone.&nbsp; Even in groups, many gnomes have been lost to the Stolen Lands...or, if you're naive, then you can choose to believe they found a barrier thin enough to pass through to return to our true home."&nbsp; She snorted softly to indicate her thoughts on the matter, though she couldn't entirely hide the sparkle of hope gleaming in her own glowing red-orange eyes.&nbsp; Try as she might, she couldn't entirely shed the blood-born hunger for the First World, and the dream of returning.&nbsp; Though she would deny it, and even believe herself to be telling the truth, she would have ventured on this expedition even without the promise of her life and freedom in exchange.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Retaking the Stolen Lands (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CalliLurk</strong> on <strong>25-01-2017, 02:13:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She smiled like only a predator could and nodded to Sophia. "You could say that though I am sort of extended family in a manner of speaking. I was fostered by the household so though obviously no blood ties but by raising. I led hunts for the household. I am a tracker and can keep the lot of us fed as long as there is game to get." Someone was just a tad cocky it sounded like. She did seem like she was ready to head out into the woodlands, her weapons were ready and she was armoured. There was also a look of almost glee at the idea.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Retaking the Stolen Lands (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rummy Tum Tum</strong> on <strong>26-01-2017, 10:57:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk52/bopperstopper/51da85c9-064b-4d37-9da0-591ad17e6fa8_zpsraxkvcv4.jpg)</div>&nbsp; <strong><em><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: comic sans;" class="bbc_font">Calim Lebeda</span></span></em></strong> (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1054886)<br><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: comic sans;" class="bbc_font"><em>CG Human Bard 1</em><br><br><strong>Init:</strong> +3; <strong>Hp:</strong> 9/9; <strong>Spell slots:</strong> 1st: 2/2; <strong>Performances</strong>: 7/7<br><strong>AC</strong> 15 (touch 13, flat-footed 12); <strong>Fort</strong> +1, <strong>Ref</strong> +6, <strong>Will</strong> +1<br><br><strong>Languages:</strong> Common, Giant, Dwarven, Elven<br><strong>Current Performance:</strong> None</span></span><br><hr><hr><br>Calim smiled serenely at Sophia's words. "Don't you worry, I'll be just fine." He said with a naturally calm confidence. He let himself feel at ease around his new companions, knowing how important it was that they at least get along enough not to want each other dead. That said, it seemed to be going very well so far. "Experience has proven I can rouse the spirit and focus of even the most uncertain folk. I'm pretty good with a sword and plenty good with a bow. And, I've got magic. Even know a bit of healing."<br><br>Though he did enjoy bragging, his intent was more to present his abilities for his team to know, and to give them less doubt about his being present. Although he had never found himself a part of a team-- at least not one that mattered-- it seemed the proper thing to do in his mind.<br><br>He turned to Jazzy as she asked her question, giving a light shrug. "I've never been to the Stolen Lands, but I am intrigued as to how retaking them will go."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Retaking the Stolen Lands (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>HopeFox</strong> on <strong>28-01-2017, 23:30:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/6f/Irene66.jpg)</div>&nbsp; <strong><em><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: gabriola;" class="bbc_font">Sophia Peace-Bond</span></span></em></strong> (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1054749)<br>NG Human Barbarian (Scarred Rager)<br>&nbsp; <em>low-light vision</em><br><strong>Init:</strong> +2; <strong>Hp:</strong> 16/16; <strong>Rage rounds</strong>: 7/7; <strong>Fey Magic SLAs</strong>: 4/4<br><strong>AC</strong> 15 (touch 12, flat-footed 13); <strong>Fort</strong> +5, <strong>Ref</strong> +2, <strong>Will</strong> +0<br><br><strong>Languages:</strong> Common, Hallit<br><br><hr><hr><br>Sophia watched Jazzy with fascination as she talked about her frog companion. "He sounds amazing! Well, if he can keep up with the rest of us on horseback, then that's all that matters." She looked around at the rest of their team. "Everyone else does have a horse, right?"<br><br>She held up one of the crude maps that were circulating through the crowd. "My people have lived in Numeria and the Stolen Lands for thousands of years. We used to live in Brevoy too, but, well..." She waved her hand to encompass the hall and the city around them. "My tribe moves around a lot, and I've done some travel beyond that on my peacekeeping quests, so I know the Stolen Lands pretty well. The Greenbelt?" She traced some points on the map, obviously having trouble with the text, or possibly with the very concept of cartography. "If I'm reading this right, then we're talking about the Narlmarches and the Kamelands. I've never been to the Narlmarches. It's almost useless land, all hills and ravines and bears and thylacines. The hunting's bad, the grazing's bad, and it's easy to get lost there, is what I've heard from people who've been there. The Kamelands aren't much better, although there's good grazing to be had there. My mother used to go on expeditions to capture wild horses from the Kamelands, before I came along." She shrugged and put the map aside. "The Greenbelt is just too dangerous and too troublesome for my tribe to bother with - too much risk, not enough reward. I'm hoping that cooperating with this Brevoy expedition will make it more useful for everyone."<br><br>Sophia grinned back at Saruma as she spoke of her hunting skills. "Well, then, you'll have to demonstrate your skills when we're out in the wild!" She leaned over to Wladyzlaw and stage-whispered to him, loud enough for Saruma and the others to hear. "Which means none of us need to hunt!"<br><br>She seemed quite at ease with her new companions, and shared a smile with Calim. "It'll be good to have someone to keep our spirits up on the trail. This isn't going to be an easy quest. I can see we've got the skills we need for it, but it'll still be hard."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Retaking the Stolen Lands (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wargtass</strong> on <strong>05-02-2017, 07:05:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/a/ae/Wlady200px.png)</div>&nbsp; <strong><em><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: gabriola;" class="bbc_font">Wladyzlaw Medvyed</span></span></em></strong> (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1054889)<br>LG Human Cavalier (Courtly Knight)<br>&nbsp; <em>low-light vision</em><br><strong>Init:</strong> +1; <strong>Hp:</strong> 12/12; <strong>Challenge SLA</strong>: 1/1<br><strong>AC</strong> 20 (touch 11, flat-footed 19); <strong>Fort</strong> +4, <strong>Ref</strong> +1, <strong>Will</strong> -1<br><br><strong>Languages:</strong> Common<br><br><hr><hr><br>Wladyzlaw watched and listened to the others, hiding a smirk behind a gloved hand. It seemed like he had drawn the right straw. All of his companions seemed to be rather easy going, light on the eyes and not at all the kind of group that he had expected. He was more so expecting a bunch of stuck up human nobles and aristocrats. Perhaps Timofei had something to do with the outcome. Or more likely no self-respecting noble or aristocrat would risk their life in the Stolen Lands. Luckily he was humble enough to not pay much respect to himself.<br><br>He looked a little surprised at first when the Lebedan noble son recognized him, but at the mention of their rowdy night he split up in a bright smile. "Ah Calim, no? You played a fair lute to be sure. Too bad you couldn't match it in a brawl or we might have given those Surtovans a fight for their inherited gelts." He was joking of course. Calim sure had put up a better fight than himself. He had only managed to utter the instigating insult and then fallen off the table he had stepped upon and knocked himself out while the whole spectacle erupted in chaos.<br><br>He turned to Sophia with a solemn smile. "Yes, Sir Stanislaw Medvyed was my father and emissary of the King-Regent. I think I might have actually been in his retinue when those negotiations were made. I might have caused a minor diplomatic ruckus." He covered his smile with his gloved hand again. It had not been as much fun back then. He had smiled at the wrong girl and the barbarians had been very upset about the whole affair.<br><br>"Well if anyone is without a proper riding animal I can provide for one. I imagine our journey will be greatly helped along by it. As for myself I have my steed Jagellion." One could almost hear the neigh of his stud from across the town square. The large war horse was always a proper handful for the men at the stables and he hoped he wouldn't have a repeat of last year's scandal when Jagellion had sprung through a window in the capital palace and found him at court. Luckily the King-Regent found it more humorous than everything and only issued a bar of the young knight from any events for a year.<br><br>"I have hopes for this expedition. They wouldn't send us off to reclaim worthless land just to boost the size of our holds, and if that was their game then they would have sent off ambitious noble sons just to free up the court. I wouldn't call myself all that ambitious and from what I have seen Calim isn't all that interested in the life of courtly politics either." He may not be ambitious but he knew the game well. One could only occupy a place in the higher courts of Brevoy before one got a taste of the political life. "If nothing else this will be a good knightly quest and we'll have some gold and glory as we hand the land over to whoever is given it."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Retaking the Stolen Lands (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Chulanowa</strong> on <strong>11-02-2017, 10:01:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/16/cc/26/16cc269e6720222f7ac400e7ad1c5dfd.jpg)<br><div align="center">Oleg</div></div><div class="floatright"> (https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/fd/2a/5e/fd2a5ecaec2ffb68657204bff82fe7c2.jpg)<br><div align="center">Svetlana</div></div>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;After everything was in order, the companies were assembled outside the city hall. There was no real pomp or circumstance, save for a short, formal address from the Mayor, followed by each member of the four groups being handed a copy of the charter. Following that, a priest of Abadar gave an address, proclaiming the endeavor blessed by the God of the First Vault. That done, it was simply a matter of leaving hte cobbled lanes of Restov for the muddy roads of the surrounding countryside.<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The weather thankfully cleared by morning of the second day. Which was fortuitous because nobody wants to find a giant amphibian in a bog in the pouring rain; it was bad enough as it was! That little diversion took another day off the trip, but eventually, they made it to their destination; Oleg's Trading Post.<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The trading post on the southernmost edge of Rostland (and thus Brevoy); most of the land around it is gently rolling hills dotted with stone outcroppings and small stands of trees. To the south stretches the Green Belt, a forest that carpets to the southern horizon. The trading post itself is apparently an old fort, with a weathered stockade surrounding it, each corner with a square watchtower. <br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The group's approach is greeted by the steady whack, whack, whack of hammering on wood, with the occasional coarsely shouted curse in Skald. Atop the central building, a rather burly man is working away at the cedar shingles. In the central market yard is a woman tending a large pot over a cookfire. At the moment they both seem engrossed in their tasks, and there are no other people about.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Retaking the Stolen Lands (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wargtass</strong> on <strong>11-02-2017, 15:04:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/a/ae/Wlady200px.png)</div>&nbsp; <strong><em><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: gabriola;" class="bbc_font">Wladyzlaw Medvyed</span></span></em></strong> (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1054889)<br>LG Human Cavalier (Courtly Knight)<br>&nbsp; <em>low-light vision</em><br><strong>Init:</strong> +1; <strong>Hp:</strong> 12/12; <strong>Challenge SLA</strong>: 1/1<br><strong>AC</strong> 20 (touch 11, flat-footed 19); <strong>Fort</strong> +4, <strong>Ref</strong> +1, <strong>Will</strong> -1<br><br><strong>Languages:</strong> Common<br><br><hr><hr><br>Personally Wladyzlaw had been a little bored with the trip, despite its short length of it. Of course they were just embarking on this quest for new lands but thus far it seemed no more different than travelling any other road towards any other city in Brevoy. He had hired a carriage and a driver, sold everything that was unimportant for his new life and brought every thing he owned aboard it with plenty of room to spare. Thus far, it was no different.<br><br>He had spent most of the time atop Jagellion, the large dark warhorse that he had reared since he was a boy. The stallion had been untamable, fit only for breeding until a young Wladyzlaw had come along and done the unthinkable. He knew there were some people out there, like Jazzy, who made strong bonds with beasts. And while he didn't believe himself gifted so, there had undoubtedly been a bond between himself and Jagellion from the first time they had met in the paddock on that foggy spring morning that many years ago. So it was from atop his trusted steed that he had lived for the last few days, eating, sleeping and of course conversing with the others to stave off boredom.<br><br>As they neared the first stop his spirit lifted a little. Seeing the old fortress was a welcome brake in the otherwise wild landscape and he only threw a single glance back at the others and a grin before he spurred Jagellion on and galloped forth, lance tipped towards the sky as he closed the distance between himself and the trading post with haste that would have been hardly expected from a beast of Jagellion's size. Coming through the gate on thundering hoof he pulled back the reigns and let the steed slide into a halt at the center of the market yard, flashing a bright smile at the man atop the building and the beautiful woman.<br><br>"Be well! I'm not mistaken if I say this is Oleg's Trading Post, aye?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Retaking the Stolen Lands (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>HopeFox</strong> on <strong>12-02-2017, 03:26:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/6f/Irene66.jpg)</div>&nbsp; <br><div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/d5/Comet.jpg)</div><strong><em><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: gabriola;" class="bbc_font">Sophia Peace-Bond</span></span></em></strong> (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1054749)<br>NG Human Barbarian (Scarred Rager)<br>&nbsp; <em>low-light vision</em><br><strong>Init:</strong> +2; <strong>Hp:</strong> 16/16; <strong>Rage rounds</strong>: 7/7; <strong>Fey Magic SLAs</strong>: 4/4<br><strong>AC</strong> 15 (touch 12, flat-footed 13); <strong>Fort</strong> +5, <strong>Ref</strong> +2, <strong>Will</strong> +0<br><br><strong>Languages:</strong> Common, Hallit<br><br><hr><hr><br>Sophia muddled through the remaining bureaucratic process as best she could, seeming rather ill at ease the whole time. That all changed when they cleared the gates of Restov. Immediately, she seemed to be in her element, and she took charge of as much of the logistics of their procession as her fellow travellers would allow. She pared her horse's load down to her minimal survival needs, stowing everything else securely on the carriage, and changed into the boar-hide tunic she wore as armour. Every day, she would spend a few hours scouting ahead to ensure the trail was safe and clear, a duty no doubt shared by others. The rest of their travel time, she spent meandering up and down the line of riders, discussing their travel plans, chatting about trivialities, distributing snacks, singing songs and playing children's games to pass the time.<br><br>Sophia's mount turned out to be a six-year-old chestnut mare named Comet, with white socks and a white stripe on her nose, whom she had raised from a foal. She didn't seem to have quite the bond with the animal that Jazzy and Wladyzlaw had with their mounts, but it was clear that they knew and understood each other well. Sophia clearly had great admiration for Wladyzlaw's stallion Jagellion, and pressed him for the story of how he managed to tame him.<br><br>All in all, Sophia seemed perfectly at home on the road. As they approache Oleg's Trading Post, she laughed to see Wladyzlaw racing ahead. She cast a glance over the procession to make sure everyone was present, then spurred Comet onwards to keep Wladyzlaw in sight. She trotted into the yard a short distance behind Wladyzlaw, and gave a respectful bow from atop her horse to the man and woman who were working there.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Retaking the Stolen Lands (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CalliLurk</strong> on <strong>13-02-2017, 02:29:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She frowned a bit at the idea of a horse and then shrugged it off. "I am mountless I am afraid to say. But when I am scouting ahead I prefer the trees to being on ground. Do you really think it is needed for me..." She thought again. "Then again if nothing else we can use the horse to carry anything extra when I unmount to scout." If they wanted to get her a mount she really didn't care. She seemed overall to be the more quiet sort overall, keeping to herself though when they did talk to her she was friendly enough all around.<br><br>Once they made it to Oleg's Trading Post she nodded to them and made sure to check over her equipment and now staying back instead of taking lead at points. She might need to get some more arrows before they head off, she did however go to tending the horses when they dismounted, a bit used to Wlady's horse, she was still determined to tend to their mounts and do her job.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Retaking the Stolen Lands (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Rummy Tum Tum</strong> on <strong>13-02-2017, 04:19:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk52/bopperstopper/51da85c9-064b-4d37-9da0-591ad17e6fa8_zpsraxkvcv4.jpg)</div>&nbsp; <strong><em><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: comic sans;" class="bbc_font">Calim Lebeda</span></span></em></strong> (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1054886)<br><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: comic sans;" class="bbc_font"><em>CG Human Bard 1</em><br><br><strong>Init:</strong> +3; <strong>Hp:</strong> 9/9; <strong>Spell slots:</strong> 1st: 2/2; <strong>Performances</strong>: 7/7<br><strong>AC</strong> 15 (touch 13, flat-footed 12); <strong>Fort</strong> +1, <strong>Ref</strong> +6, <strong>Will</strong> +1<br><br><strong>Languages:</strong> Common, Giant, Dwarven, Elven<br><strong>Current Performance:</strong> None</span></span><br><hr><hr><br>Having nowhere safe and affordable to keep Edward during their extended journey, Calim decided not to take Wladyzlaw up on his offer, and brought her along. Part of him was glad for the added company. Though she had a tendency bite at his hair as a showing of affection, he would have missed her in the long run. He only hoped she would be able to keep up with the horses.<br><br>Along their journey, he basked his companions in a variety of songs. His vocal range and knowledge of languages and certain cultures brought a myriad of different styles to enjoy. It was a genuine delight when he found Sophia joining in with a surprisingly beautiful singing voice as well. His favorite song he'd performed was the harsh, but rousing and surprisingly jaunty tune in Giant. He later revealed that it translated into a rather disturbing and gruesome tale of wanton bloodshed, which he supposed was not an unexpected thing. What Giant he learned the song from-- and how-- he decided he would leave a mystery for the time being.<br><br>He also told a number jokes, one of which was the bittersweet and highly successful story of the Gnome and the Noble.<br><br>Once they neared the post, he watched Wlady charge onward with a fond and amused smile. His excitement for this adventure was palpable from the start, and was only getting clearer with time. He approached the post at his own pace, however, and waved a hand in greetings to its inhabitants.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Retaking the Stolen Lands (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Bibliophilia</strong> on <strong>15-02-2017, 01:33:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/74/ed/5e/74ed5eef10c825703fce975c55e5529c.jpg)</div><div class="floatright">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/b9/b6/e3/b9b6e3dd74c7946559d6c839a22b40e5.jpg)</div>&nbsp; <strong><em><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: gabriola;" class="bbc_font">Jazzy Feldspar</span></span></em></strong> (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1053846)<br>CN Gnome Druid (Feyspeaker)<br>&nbsp; <em>low-light vision</em><br><strong>Init:</strong> +2; <strong>Hp:</strong> 10/10; <strong>Fey Magic SLAs</strong>: 4/4; <strong>Faerie Dragon SLAs</strong>: 6/6<br><strong>AC</strong> 18 (touch 13, flat-footed 16); <strong>Fort</strong> +4, <strong>Ref</strong> +2, <strong>Will</strong> +3<br><br><strong>Languages:</strong> Common, Gnome, Sylvan, Druidic, Aklo, Draconic<br><br><hr><hr><br>Jazzy's mount, Runt, was around 6 feet from nose to ass and had to weigh somewhere close to two hundred pounds, which made the 3'2" gnome riding on the saddle strapped to its back look like...well, lunch.&nbsp; The frog was surprisingly agile and swift, more than capable of keeping up with the horses and carriage, though its smooth, impressive hops would likely make anyone unused to the motion very ill while riding it.&nbsp; Jazzy seemed quite comfortable in her seat, having no issue staying in place, and even able to eat while rising and falling through the air atop a massive amphibian.&nbsp; Runt was allowed to go off and forage for his own food when they camped for the night, and he never seemed to go hungry...though the local rabbit and badger population likely suffered from his healthy appetite.<br><br>During the trip, Jazzy kept up a steady patter of ever-changing conversation.&nbsp; Her mind was clearly quick and clever, but she often switched gears in mid-sentence, as if unable, or unwilling, to remain on one topic for too long.&nbsp; Her stream-of-consciousness babbling was easily tuned out, and she never seemed to require the others to join in, though she welcomed their input.&nbsp; Every morning, she took the time to sit and commune with nature for half-an-hour, then conjured a handful of ripe, juicy berries mottled rose madder and tangerine.&nbsp; These she put into a hide pouch that had been stained over time with the juices of the berries in a kind of tie-dye pattern.<br><br><hr><br>When they arrived at Oleg's, she leaned forward and patted Runt between his gigantic, gelatinous eyes, then slid neatly off his rounded back to land on her feet beside him.&nbsp; Oleg and his wife were granted a wide, shining smile as she approached them.&nbsp; "Hiya!&nbsp; I'm Jazzy.&nbsp; That there's Calim, Wladyzlaw, Sophia and Saruma.&nbsp; Excuse me for askin', but shouldn't there be more folks around a trading post on a beautiful afternoon like this?"&nbsp; She motioned and glanced at each of them as she made introductions, then looked back to the couple with an inquisitively cocked brow.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Retaking the Stolen Lands (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Chulanowa</strong> on <strong>10-03-2017, 05:57:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The woman's head snapped up from her task when Wlady called out. Her eyes got very large for a moment, then a smile followed <strong>"Oleg! They've arrived!"</strong> She dusts herself off a bit, as the man repairing the roof begins to clamber down. <strong>"You'd be right, sir, this is our little place. Thank you for coming..."</strong> She began, only for her burly husband to interrupt,<strong> "Took the governor long enough."</strong> <br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;He crossed his arms, looking each of the group up and down in turn. A cat-woman. Two dandies. And... is that a frog? Oleg's already-creased brow grew furrows like a ploughed field.<strong> "...Yer not the guard detachment, are you?"</strong> He grumbled darkly in Skald, because that language has all the best oaths. He set his jaw after a moment. <strong>"Well. You're welcome just the same, and glad to see you,"</strong> he finally admits, doffing his cap and extending a large, hammer-bruised hand to Wlady first. <strong>"Oleg Leveton. This here,"</strong> He loops his free arm around his much smaller wife's shoulders, <strong>"is my long-suffering wife, Svetlana."</strong><br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;She gave him a soft elbow. <strong>"Not suffering for long, hopefully. Come, come, have a seat, have some stew, the lot of you look like skin and bones!"</strong> She gathered her skirts and made her way towards the cookpot, answering Jazzy as she went.<strong> "Well... Folks are a bit sparse out this far, and with the, ah, the troubles of late."</strong> she frowned, giving the stew a brisk stir. <strong>"Bandits, I'm sure you've heard."</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Retaking the Stolen Lands (IC)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>HopeFox</strong> on <strong>12-03-2017, 12:01:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/6f/Irene66.jpg)</div>&nbsp; <br><strong><em><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: gabriola;" class="bbc_font">Sophia Peace-Bond</span></span></em></strong> (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1054749)<br>NG Human Barbarian (Scarred Rager)<br>&nbsp; <em>low-light vision</em><br><strong>Init:</strong> +2; <strong>Hp:</strong> 16/16; <strong>Rage rounds</strong>: 7/7; <strong>Fey Magic SLAs</strong>: 4/4<br><strong>AC</strong> 15 (touch 12, flat-footed 13); <strong>Fort</strong> +5, <strong>Ref</strong> +2, <strong>Will</strong> +0<br><br><strong>Languages:</strong> Common, Hallit<br><br><hr><hr><br>Sophia dismounted and gave Comet a grateful pat, trusting her not to wander off while they conversed. She shook Oleg's hand in turn, and gratefully followed Svetlana to the cookpot. "Thank you both for the welcome," she said, craning her neck to take in the full scope of the old fort.<br><br>"We're not the guard, no," she said as she found a place to sit near the fire. "We're adventurers, sent south to explore the Greenbelt and see if it can be settled for Brevoy. We're to drive away banditry as we can, too." She leaned towards the cookpot and sniffed at it with interest.<br><br>"So there are bandit problems around here? We didn't see any trouble on our way south. What can you tell us about the bandits? Are they from any kingdom or tribe you recognize? What do you think they want?"
			</dd>
		</dl>
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