A place to chat in character with each other and with friendly NPCs while waiting for the game to progress. Assume that conversations occur while you are walking or waiting around.

Probably at some point during the voyage.

"Well met, dear ladies.  I am Girard Viticus Manes.  Just Girard is fine.  I was put on this quest mostly because the government has no idea what to do with me.  Either way, I care not.  This is my opportunity to be a free man.  I must admit, the prospect of swinging my blade for myself and not someone else is exhilarating.

Please tell me of yourselves. I am eager to know who my companions are and why two such beautiful ladies are also forced upon this quest. If you wish to keep your secrets, by all means do, all ladies are entitled to them.  But I will keep none from my comrades, feel free to ask me anything."

"Girard the Just it is.  Its certainly shorter."

The tall elf sneered and caught her lower lip between two rows of pearly whites as she regarded the half-elven man.  His request brought a thoughtful and somewhat weary look to her face, and Desra huffed quietly, a hand reaching up into her long hair to scratch at her scalp.

"This suits my lifestyle.  A royal charter is a dignified thing, and I took it rather than return to Kyonin empty-handed.  The laws of the land defeated me in Brevoy, but out here in the Stolen Lands, I'll forge my own way -- and there will be no higher authority to deny me.  You can call me Desra."

A grin spread over the elf's lips, and her head rolled back and to the side in a lazy, almost unnatural way to bring her green eyes to rest on the human girl accompanying them.

"And what about you, precious?  I'd say you're the most unlikely candidate.  You're not Girard's woman, nor my porter -- I haven't any bags, you see -- so what exactly are you here for?"     
This message was last edited by the player at 07:53, Tue 08 Nov 2011.

"greetings to you all to you all, I am Francine Marlin"

She curtseys with her work cloths on with an apron holding many tools


"I hail from southern brevoy. I am a Gunsmith by trade but a musketeer in training. I have hunted much wildlife with this good sir"

She pats her musket.

"Times have been hard on our family business. Many know not the power of guns. they scoff at things they do not understand."

Spinning her gun up to her in gun at ready position with the hammer cocked.

"By this gun, I will show everyone the power this holds and that a Marlin gun has brought the stolen lands back."

"We may have different goals but the paths are the same. Though the dangers may seem insurmountable, we shall prevail and we shall tame these lands."

She lowers the hammer back into standby position and hold her gun in salute

"to the journey and adventure."

Girard turns to the woman and grins.  "Aye, I was a gladiator.  To be one was... an experience. There were many ups and downs, as with most professions, perhaps more downs than most, what with it being in the pulsing heart of Cheliax."

Girard's eyes darken for a moment.

"Ultimately, being a gladiator was being a slave.  If you master wished something of you, it was his right and privilege to take it, no matter what it is.  If he sold you for a handful of sovereigns, you had no say in the matter."

Then he lifts his head, eyes looking back to a wistful happy memory.

"Ahh... but the camaraderie and the arena. Those were the days.  Yeah we knew that if we should face each other on the field, there was a high chance one of us would be dead, but we never made enemies of each other.  We laughed, we sang, we cried, held each others as brothers and sisters. And the Arena! Nervous doesn't even describe it. There you are, under the blazing sun, and hundreds if not thousands of cheering people are are watching your every move. If you soil yourself in terror, they will see and remember. Even then, just surviving isn't enough.  You have to make the crowd love you. No... Nervous doesn't even describe it."

Turning back to Francine, "And what of you, dear lady, from where do you hail from?  If you wish to show off the power of your new weapons, I'm sure there are less harrowing places than the Stolen Lands to do so."

"Southern Brevoy, however my father had told me stories that we used to own quite a bit of land in Stolen Lands. So it is as much a reclamation as it is for honor. For ten years, I have tried ever so hard doing any other means to sell my wares. I have been to many towns and entered many contests."

Francine speaking in an exasperated tone continues

"Even if I win a shooting contest it does not prove much in their minds. They will always find a flaw in how the gun works or a rules that disqualifies me or even worse there are those who cling to tradition. Especially the Southern hunters they cling too rigidly to Erastil's teachings. Is not gunpowder but items taken from the earth? Is not iron from the same source yet they find no blasphemy from a sword?"

Francine in a determined tone yet anger fuming through every few syllables.
 
"No... I am done with their ridicule and patronizing talks. Who can question the gun if I do what no bow or sword has done? Even if that fails to sway them, my family could use the land and money. We struggle for food and good living."

She remembers her family thoughtfully and a tear comes down in frustration.

"Every day I see my brothers go and work the farms to make ends meet, while I sell in vain. We are tradesmen not simple workers. they deserve better. No more shall the shop be the rock that holds them down but the ship that will carry them forward. I shall do this FOR ME, FOR THEM, and"

She looks up at the sky.

"FOR OUR FATHER"

Francine wipes the tear away and gives a small sniff of her nose.

"Sorry, that was unlady like. I have been so angry for so long. I required someone to talk to to. I bet my trials are but pitiful annoyances to what you have experienced. I thank you for listening. You have mentioned you have no goal or quest. If the government hadn't sent you here what would you have done?"
This message was last edited by the player at 08:36, Wed 16 Nov 2011.

"The trial of our past shape us into who we are today, and you, lady Marlin, are a brave, stalwart, and determined woman.  Our trials and 'pitiful annoyances' will always hold much greater meaning to ourselves than  to others. Thus if we are in the same place, then my trials are no greater than yours."

Girard thumps his bare chest twice for emphasis.

"Well, the offer was either for me to conquer the Stolen Lands, or be returned to Celiax a slave.  While my previous master, Neries, was a great man, may he share a pint with Cailean in heaven, I've had many that were not quite so... generous.  Now, if I wasn't a slave at all... I would probably be doing much the same as I am now.  My time as a slave had trained me well in three things; fighting, cleaning, and... err... never mind that third one.  Let's just say I never want to make a living doing the last two.  Well, maybe with the right clientele... .  Well, no matter!  We are here and our names will be carved on these lands by the might of our blades, and your gun m'lady."

The elf had lingered toward the rear, and she grinned widely seeing her nudging had the desired effect.  All the while she listened, seemingly interested enough.  In her humble estimation, the two were worthy companions, and her soft voice chimed in shortly after Girard's.

"Spoken as a true warrior, Girard.  Certainly, I think the three of us agree that our lots in life can be greatly bettered by this expedition."

While the adventurers were resting at Oleg's Post and Oleg was out collecting firewood, his kindly wife stopped by to chat with them in their rooms.

"I was wondering if you could do me a small favor while you're out mapping these dangerous wilds. Oleg's been under a lot of stress recently, and I'd love to make his favorite soup for him - moon radish soup! There's a big patch of moon radishes about 16 miles south of the post - it's too far for me to travel, but if you're in the area I'd pay quite a lot for them..."

A letter from Stagfall.

The letter arrives in a fine, lightly oiled leather parcel pouch.  The folded parchment is of equisite quality and the seal on the letter is an embossed leaf with a pair of stag antlers.  Written in an elegant and legible hand, it reads:

Good tidings Baron Hannis Drelev

Thank you for your kind concern with regards to Varnhold.  Indeed, we were all warned of the dangers that awaited us in the Stolen Lands, still, I doubt anything could have prepared Varnhold for the onslaught of animated giants and the fel magic that ensorcelled his people.

I give thanks that Stagfall's own trials have not been beyond the strength of our Baron Girard Viticus Manes.  A consummate swordsman, even the greatest of his rivals have fallen under his legendary (at least in Stagfall) Swallow's Stroke.  Still, our trials at least had names; the Stag Lord, Hargulka Troll-King, the cyclopean lich Vordekai -- to be beset by Boggards is a trial with little glory to be gained.  I sympathize with your difficulties.  We have dispatched one of our Knights, Sir Akirous, and his retinue to make contact with and terminate the Boggard attacks on your lands.  With the route clear, I hope Fort Drelev will consider trade with Stagfall that we may solidify future relations.

Ah, but the Barbarians.  Lord Primus of the Iron Wraiths has also been beset by the Tigerlord Barbarians, have you sought an alliance with him?  Surely, two orders of Hellknights standing against the savages from the north would fare better than one?

Worry not, good Baron.  In Stagfall, we are neither blind nor deaf to the going-ons in the Stolen Lands and are fully aware of the threat that you and Lord Primus face.  In a way, we are indebted to the Hellknights for their service.  Were it not for their interdiction, Stagfall itself may have fallen prey to these Barbarians a year ago when they first started their advance into the Stolen Lands.  For this reason, for the last several seasons Stagfall has provided men and supplies to the Iron Wraiths to stave off this threat to our borders.

At this time, Stagfall is deliberating how best to combat this growing threat, it was proposed by Baron Manes that an army be mustered and prepared to counter this threat.

Both Lord Primus and yourself have a far better grasp on the Barbarian situation than we in Stagfall, and I propose we all meet to discuss and agree on a plan of action.  The first Council of the Stolen Lands would be a historic event, and one that might bring about a resolution to many of Fort Drelev's current woes.

To that end, I invite you and Lord Asilmar of the Order of the Nail to attend this first Council in Stagfall on the 1st of (month before the bandit council meeting).  Unlike certain unscrupulous lords to the south, there is no 'fee' for attending.
Bring any representatives and aids you feel you will need, as it is my hope that the deliberations of this Council will result in strong trade ties and the establishment of supply lines for the soldiers fighting to secure our lands.

It is my hope that Stagfall's Knights may deal with your Boggard issue, and that you can attend our first Council of the Stolen Lands.  Of course, you will be afforded your choice of quarters in either Castle Manes, my own lakeside estate, or the penthouse atop the chamber of commerce in the noble quarter of Stagfall.  We are certainly living in such interesting times, are we not, Baron Drelev?

I've enclosed some points of interest on the map enclosed. (Attached is a map that gives the general overlay of forests, hills and plains, as well as the location of stagfall with a suggested route to the city that does not run through any perilous hexes)

Your friend in peace,

Lady Desra Auranfol
Guildmistress of Stagfall