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Prelude

For generations, the Stolen Lands have spanned the southern border of Brevoy. Many attempts have been made to settle them, but to date, none have succeeded, making these 35,000 square miles of wilderness the largest swath of unclaimed land in the entire River Kingdoms. As tensions mount in Brevoy, one of Rostland’s swordlords hopes to change that fact; she plans to issue charters to several groups of adventurers, sending them south into the Stolen Lands to reopen old trade routes and defeat the bandits and monsters who have made them too dangerous to use. What role will you play in this endeavor?

24th day of Calistril 4710 AR

As our story begins, you each have answered Lady Jamandi Aldori’s “call for heroes” and arrived at her impressive hilltop manor. A cobblestone path, bordered by regal oak trees and well-manicured hedges, winds its way up the hill for nearly a mile, past a two-story guard barracks, the stables, and a dozen thatched-roof cottages that house the families of the manor’s servants and retainers. The manor itself is a sprawling, three-story structure constructed of light gray mortared stone, surrounded by hedge-lined rose gardens and ancient oak trees. There is a line of other adventurers outside the entrance to the Great Hall, waiting to be let inside. The sky above is gloomy, and distant thunder suggests a storm is imminent.

Fenric unshoulders his pack to let it rest next to him as they arrive at Lady Jamandi's manor. "No shortage of competition," he says in a distracted murmur while eyeing the adventurers already gathered. "Expected given what is at stake."

He gazes at the sky and runs his hand through his brown hair. "Hopefully, the lady of the manor allows us inside before that storm arrives."

Quintessa looks around at the gathered adventurers, her brilliant blue eyes sparkling with curiosity and excitement despite the gloomy weather. It's been a long trip and she's extremely anxious, though she's doing a masterful job hiding it as long as you don't pay attention to the fact that she's chewed off a fair bit of her nails.

She stares at the other would-be heroes and responds to Fenric "Indeed, Fenric. It seems we're in the company of many ambitious souls today. A fitting turnout for such a grand call to adventure."

Turning to the seamstress, she offers a reassuring smile. She sweeps her hand down her outfit with a smile, proud of their collaborative work. Sure, Teela did all of the actual work and pricked her fingers countless times on the bumpy ride, but hey, Quintessa guided her design as they traveled. They made it together.

The outfit is a stunning blend of noble elegance and whimsical flair, embodying Quintessa's personality and artistic sensibilities. The dress features a deep, rich blue fabric adorned with intricate, multicolored, embroidered, swirling floral designs in vibrant shades of gold, green, and purple.

The bodice is fitted and elegantly structured, with detailed gold accents. The neckline is tastefully daring, balancing sophistication with a hint of boldness. Quintessa always enjoys touting the line between appropriate and questionable, after all.

The skirt is full and layered, designed to flow gracefully with Quintessa's movements. Teela layered the fabric to create a sense of depth and motion, making the dress appear almost alive with each step she takes.

To accompany the outfit, Quintessa wears a delicate headpiece with small blue gemstones wrapped around her opal-colored hair.

She glances up at the sky, a hint of concern crossing her face "I do hope Lady Jamandi values punctuality as much as we do. I'd rather not have Teela's masterpiece soaked before we even step inside."

Thark grunts audibly as Fenric points out the line of others waiting to enter the manor. "Gorum blesses us, not them. Keep your wits about you and things will go well for us. I can feel it." He fingers a small iron-blade medallion hanging from his neck. It's likely the most he's said since he bumped into the group on the way to the halls of Lady Jamandi.

He looks around the sumptuous surroundings with an air of discomfort. He is not used to the formal surroundings of nobles and others of the upper crust. He shrugs a little to himself, looking at his worn hides and tattered cloak especially compared to the finery that Lady Quintessa is arrayed in.

Fenric and Selina's garb is much more practical for an adventuring group, and he nods his silent approval, though some spiked metal armor might be more to his taste. They carry swords and weapons that Thark understands and approves of. The fancy young lady seems to have some other skills that Thark has yet to see. And the other girl, Teela, seems to be a servant of some kind.

"Are you a princess?" Thark asks Quintessa finally unable to contain it any longer. He seems to blush, if such a thing were possible with his green-hued skin tone.

The servant woman who shadows Lady Orlovsky observes the estate in contemplation. Her hair flows in waves like rows of dark chestnuts rolling down a distant hill only to end up below her shoulders and covering a loose scarf around her neck. Her visible eye is dark brown. Not matching her almond skin at all, a leather eyepatch covers the other eye. The patch might have been pitch black at one point but shows signs of wear and bleaching now.

Unlike Quintessa's garments, this woman's clothes are simple. Some would even say they are plain. Well made and well-fitting, but clearly with function in mind. The torso is layered and complimentary, but the legs and arms are loose and more flowy. Her boots, knee-high leather, had seen a few creeks and forests in their time. Despite the few scratches and bends, however, they are meticulously clean. She has three belts on her at the moment. One is slung over her shoulder, extending to her waist to support the weight of another belt of the same make that holds her belongings. The third one is just kind of there as an accessory. Various doodahs that should be on hand cling to her belt on little straps and hooks. A sheathed dagger. Not exactly a weapon of choice for most on the grounds, but she doesn't seem to mind. Two latched pouches made of hardened leather right next to it and a... rag doll?

Yeah. It's a rag doll, alright. Featureless, hairless, nothing on it at all. A blank canvas ready for the initial sketch and strokes of a painter. Meticulously clean, just like everything she wears. It's as if it was made just this morning.

She looks around the estate, her face slowly turning into one of astonishment. The conversation snaps her out of it. "This place is like a whole district in Silverhall. If rain starts now, we will be soaked by the time we reach the manor proper."

The humid wind picks up, and Teela uses her scarf to tie her hair in a ponytail. She wipes the back of her neck with her palm, removing condensed droplets. Back in reality, she looks at Quintessa. "Don't worry about the clothes. That can be cleaned up in a moment." she looks around the group. "I mean all of us. Just need to get under a roof or something."

Thark drops his comment and a gentle smirk flashes on Teela's face. She looks to Quintessa expectantly.

Selina smiles, as she walks through the manicured grounds of Lady Aldori's manor. The head of the Swordlords! She was going to actually meet her! In her five years of training, she had only seen her from afar at dueling school ceremonies. As she admired the grounds, Selina thought: one day, I could have a manor like this. I am on the road to making this happen. One step at a time.

She saw the competition waiting in line. Did any of them wield dueling swords? As she heard the thunder and storm approaching, Selina looked at her armor. "Hope this line moves fast, do not want my armor getting wet." She looked at Quintessa's dress and smiled. Selina was more a more form over function type of gal.

Quintessa offers a small genuine smile in response to Thark's question."A princess? No, Thark, not quite. I am merely a humble daughter of House Orlovsky, though I do appreciate the compliment. My family might expect a certain...presentation, but I assure you, beneath all this finery, I'm just as committed to our cause as anyone."

She slowly approaches the half-orc and places a soft hand on his rather large arm. "And Gorum's blessing will indeed see us through. Together," she sweeps her graze over her companions, "I'm confident we have strength, wit, and the will to succeed. And rest assured, I'm not completely helpless. My abilities and training may not be as visible as your strength and steel, but I can handle myself in a tight situation."

Unable to hide her amusem*nt, Quintessa chuckles softly as she turns to Fenric.

"Indeed, I'll hold you to that promise. The families have been rivals in politics for so long; it's about time we showed them that cooperation can be just as formidable.“

”Who knows, perhaps they'll write songs about the noble houses of Orlovsky and Lodovka joining forces to conquer the Stolen Lands. A tale of unity and adventure, with just the right amount of scandal to keep things interesting."

She concludes with a wink ”Who doesn’t love a good scandal, after all?”

Teela clears her throat. "So, how exactly does this work? Is there a gauntlet run for the best time, a jousting tournament, some sort of battle of wits?"

She looks around. "That sure is a lot of people. Do we get bonus points for sneaking past the line or something?"

Quintessa smiles at Teela’s assertion of a jousting tournament. ”Though I’m sure Fenric is excellent on a mount, I’m afraid if we are required to joust for entrance that we may have made this long journey for nothing.”

She shakes her head at sneaking in, and dismisses it outright. ”No. We are expected and thus we will wait patiently to be called, Teela. There may yet be a time to vie for position or favor, but now is not that time.”

"Fair enough." Teela nods. "I trust that your familiarity with this kind of etiquette is above mine and will defer."

Responding to Selina's comment, Teela scans the crowd. "Oh, I wouldn't know. First time I'm at such a gathering. You do, uh... Fencing lessons, yes? No lady clients?"

Teela is obviously not a patient type. Definitely not when just standing around. The manages to stand still for 10 seconds before pulling out a small lute from somewhere and starts tapping the strings. She finds a gentle melody, and starts humming. She switches to lyrics after a short moment.

I once had a friend near Encarthan's Lake
Caring and gentle, he made my loins quake

We spent the moons merry and lie in the fields
And I thought perhaps I could make him some meals

So I gathered apples and made him some pie
I got a nice locket from him in reply

Once I thought that he would have some true class
My friend of two weeks tried to breach my...

She stops, and looks around. "Uhm... Not sure if this is appropriate. I'll take requests, I guess?" Teela shrugs.

Selina ponders the question, "Not many female clients in the dueling arts. But I am still a student and not a master swordswoman like our gracious host, Lady Aldori. I am excited to hear her offer." Selina pauses as Teela finishes her song. "You sing beautifully by the way."

At Fenric's comment, Selina raises an eyebrow. "I doubt the common folk were offered this opportunity. Unless my eyes deceive me, I do not see many farmers or merchants on the line. More like mercs and warriors and practitioners of the mystical arts, like our fine group."

Selina pauses to hear the rest of Fenric's discourse, wishing drinks were being served. "I hope it's not a gauntlet or free for all. I am sure Lady Aldori is more civilized than that."

Thark shrugs at Quintessa's reply to his forward but earnest question. "Well, Thark might call you Princess anyway. Thark is sure there is more to you than meets the eye. Just like all of us. eh?"

The grim half-orc nods at Teela's question and listens to the reply. If the group is expected, then the long line is a bit of a concern. He sighs a bit, especially looking at the weather. "Thark has been patient before, for a very long time. Will be patient again, but Thark does not like getting wet."

A close inspection of the half orc reveals iron manacles around his wrists and ankles, and a place where a chain might have bound those hands and feet together, but there is no longer a chain there. A significant grey-white scar covers one side of his face arcing from eyebrow to chin. He wears hide armor which is patched and worn in many places, but the armor does not fully hide scarred lash marks on the broad back and shoulders of the warpriest.

When Teela breaks out in song, Thark listens, his head co*cked to one side. The humor of the song seems to be lost on him, but he seems impressed with her ability. "Songbird," he says with a distant look. "Thark likes songbirds."

Selina wrote:

"Not many female clients in the dueling arts. But I am still a student and not a master swordswoman like our gracious host, Lady Aldori."

Quintessa studies the woman, looking her up and down as if she were capable of judging her talent from a brief glance. "And why not? Perhaps you are the next Swordlord, Selina? Tell me, for long have you trained with the blade?"

Thark wrote:

"Well, Thark might call you Princess anyway?"

Quintessa feels a warm blush creeping up her cheeks at Thark's unexpected reverence. She isn't accustomed to being thought of as royalty, more often seen as the rabble-rouser, troublemaker, or arsonist of her noble house. She quickly seizes the opportunity to shift the focus, her voice light and playful.

Thark wrote:

"Songbird," he says with a distant look. "Thark likes songbirds."

"As do I, Thark. Let us take a moment to appreciate our true songbird here." She gestures toward Teela, "Without even trying, you've managed to lift our spirits even with this dreary weather looming over us."

Fenric wrote:

"I wouldn't call her that in earshot of King Surtova,"

Quintessa’s smile and amusem*nt fade instantly at Fenric’s words. The mention of the Surtovas serves as a stark reminder of the political tensions that constantly loom over her family.

Staring at the ground she grumbles in a very unladylike fashion "Yes, best not to stir those particular waters, even in jest.", her voice tinged with a hint of bitterness.

The Surtovas have already taken enough from Brevoy.

She takes a deep breath, pushing aside the dark thoughts. Looking at Thark, she forces a smile, as taught by her mother. Always be smiling; it's what ladies must do, even though it's more subdued than before. She stares into the distance past Thark, longing for her chance to get away from all of this.