Prologue - The Feast

OOC: This thread is for any character who is going to the Feast on the Svetian Estate. Anyone who wishes to go on the property of the estate can enter this thread.

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The sun is still well in the sky, and the cattle in surrounding farms enjoy the warmth as they graze on the farms that surround the estate of Sir Dagonet Svet. The manor itself is three stories, and made predominantly of heavy stone. It is of rich design, and was created with many pleasing angles no matter which direction you approach. There is a long gravel road which leads from the town of Restov, and is where many of the guests will arrive from.

There are two guards outside the entranceway to the estate in full chain, proudly displaying the heraldry of the house on clothing, as well as engraved in their iron helms, and metal gauntlets.

OOC: Anyone who is going to attend can post regarding their entrance, however I will wait a day or two for people to post.

As the density of farmhouses reduced with distance from the city centre, Mycroft's eyes adjust to the irregular waves of rolling meadows visible beyond the carriage window. Each green hill still glows with unrefracted sunlight. It will only be mid-afternoon when they arrive, leaving ample time to have a few words with their host before the bulk of what will no-doubt be many guests arrive. The irregular crunching sounds of wheels on cobblestones slowly rise to the forefront of his awareness, as his ears adjust to the rather recent silence now filling the carriage. His small daughter, originally seated snugly beneath the hollow of left arm, had curled further into him as they'd conversed, until now she sat almost entirely cradled in his lap, in an expression of unconcealed intimacy that she knew he would only tolerate when they were alone. He looks down, attempting to see around the edges of her tightly tied black hair, as her head tilts in a slow rhythm, left-to-right, rapidly running her eyes across the paragraphs and incremental diagrams of her book. Mycroft can only catch the odd word here or there: "-integrity"; "-strain"; "juncture"; "set-alloy". Jenna once again breaks the silence, sighing dramatically as she thumps her head against her father's wall-like chest.

"It's no good, I still remember all of this, it's too recent! This might actually be more boring than reading a book that contains only word over and over, at least then you can get angry that someone has wasted so much paper!" She closes the book in her arms, but keeps a finger in the folds, reserving her place. A small but crucial sign that her complaints are exaggerated. "Why does it have to be engineering? We haven't bought a new engineering manual in over a month!" Mycroft rubs her shoulder reassuringly, causing her to convulse lightly like a cat being petted.

"Think about this strategically, Princess. As I have keenly observed, that despite your famous inclination to get lost heart-and-soul into books of the thickest sort, there are nonetheless a total of approximately four topics, commonly committed to parchment, that you do not immediately turn your nose up at as 'boring': Manuals and construction treatise of architectural and utilitarian design; detailed accounts of historical and political events; research accounts of discrete regions, their populations, and their wildlife; and obscure volumes of arcane lore I am generally unwise to trust you with." Jenna turns her face to hide in the folds of his vest, perceiving the logical course of this argument, and resigning to let it continue.
"I also know that you universally wish to remain unmolested and free of harassment when in rooms full of strangers who fancy themselves conversationalists, so each topic must be evaluated with this goal in mind. Arcane lore would surely be sufficiently above anyone's understanding, but regrettably carries with it a mystery and intrigue that will demand additional deflections if you expect someone to stop asking you questions. Not to mention the not-uncommon prejudices held against the magically-inclined, which is unwanted attention of wholly different sort. So that's out. History can usually be counted upon to deter the majority of petitioners, but its liability lays in the possibility of personal connection. One distant relation, a long-lost uncle twice-removed, who lived in that time and place, and you can expect a degree of polite participation that you only see in dinner-guests desperate to prove that they know something about anything. Geographic groupings flora and fauna carry a similar liability: while generally a reliable source of yawns and apologetic departures, the possibility of a lingering thread of commonality remains. 'My cousin once saw a Displacer-Beast at Whiterock Grove! Mind you, he had been into the hay-mead, but he says he saw what he saw!'" Mycroft's pitch-perfect imitation of a guest overstepping his boundaries prompts Jenna to continue overstepping hers, directing a pouting expression,half-defiant, half-defeated, up into her father's eyes, and then turning away from him, pushing her buttocks instinctively against the core of his lap as she adjusts. Ignoring her movements, as always, Mycroft's touches only the book in her hands, taking it and holding it up as he concludes his point.
"Only an engineering treatise, in our case 'The Maintenance Benefits of Upstream Aquaducts', guarantees that your encounters will not only be brief, but indeed increasingly so as word spreads. Here we have a topic that only members of two walks of life will be exposed to: formal advisors to rulers of men, who only suffer such details pragmatically and sparingly; and interested readers of such recondite and esoteric tastes that their chances of approaching you at a social event are comparable to your chances of approaching them, effectively nil."

In the brief silence that follows, Mycroft observes a shift in the pace of the carriage. They're nearing the gates of the Svet Estate.
"So what does that say about me? That I'm a bookish aberration who only cares about the things normal people can't stand?" Jenna's voice registers a low level of hurt, but also a well-learned expectation of assurances to come.
"I beg your pardon?" Mycroft feigns ignorance. "OH, no, you've picked up on the wrong one out of those two options." He places his palm gently on her head, turning her playfully to face him.
"What you are, is a temporarily embarrassed Princess, who knows deep-down that some day she is going to have to build herself a castle." Jenna averts her eyes from his as the hot blood rushes to her cheeks. Seeing the edge of the estate walls pan past the carriage window, her thoughts rapidly return to her father's speculation as to their task this evening.

"Perhaps we'll end up building our castle in the Stolen Lands." She says, stoically. Mycroft lifts her effortlessly off his lap, and opens the door of their rented carriage just as it pulls to a stop.
"Let's not count our land-titles before their granted, my dear. We may decide we don't like the neighbours once we get there..."

Ever the gentlemen, Mycroft helps his daughter out onto the crunching stones of the gate path. Allowing her trail him at a short distance, clutching her large book to her chest, he paces briskly towards the attending guards.

The stables were clean, muck had been mucked out and fresh straw laid in its place. Master Svet's horses were groomed to the highest standards. It had taken all morning but with all the wine and beer that was carted in who knew where the guests would end up after the evenings festivities...

The sharp clicking of metal shod hooves on the cobbles of the path brought Haken, stable master back from his mental check-list. A slim man wearing dark clothing rode into the court yard. His horse, a chestnut mare was no thoroughbred but looked strong and well cared for. Her rider dismounted nimbly and unfastened a long, ornate staff from the straps of this saddlebags. Maybe a Wizard? Haken thought, then again maybe not, as the man moving with a pronounced limp lead the mare to the stable hitching rail. All the estate's numerous staff had been told to expect 'all sorts' among the guests and this man was no exception. A tabby cat was sitting forward of his saddle clearly enjoying the view. A limping wizard with a cat, never seen a crippled wizard, wasn't the whole point of magic avoiding the problems of common men?

Upon reaching him the cat ran over the mare's head and onto the rail where it sat staring at him. Breaking eye contact with the animal, "Get out here Boy!" Haken yelled towards the back of the stable. The man was now unfastening a large travelers pack from the horse's back. He was lightly built and a little above average height, some overly long, black hair was visible under the brim of a large leather hat. A check in the Wizard column Haken noted, Wizards never seem to have heard of the barber. The rest of the man's attire was much more orderly, a ankle length black leather coat, undoubtedly expensive was worn open over a much more plain grey shirt. What were possibly once black trousers, quality riding boots and a wide leather belt with a silver buckle completed his outfit. Lowering the heavy pack to the ground the man turned, "Please have this taken up to my room". Haken was a little taken aback, he couldn't place the mans age, 25 - 35 years old would have been his best guess and a poor one at that. "Sir, can I..." but the guest cut him off "Fabian, your master is expecting me", smiling with his mouth but not his sharp blue eyes. He then fished a copper coin from a pouch on his belt and tossed it Hakens way. "For your stable boy" he said turning toward the manor's doors, staff clicking on the brick. The cat jumping down to follow its... master startled Haken who turned back to the stable yelled "Get your head out of the hay Boy!, we have Guests"

Aeldeth woke early as she did most morning, and set about making sure that all her stores of salves, potions and medicines were well stocked. As she is not only a cleric with the church but also a relatively well respected healer for the Svetian people. This ritual was especailly important today as there was an influx of people coming in for the feast at the Svetian Estate, and you could never be too safe.
She spent the rest of the day getting ready for the feast herself. She picked a set of dark green robes, which were more or less in fashion but as she has a bit of an eclectic taste, her clothes were never really in fashion. She then fitted a few of her more multipurpose medicines and potions into her pockets just in case of an emergency.
By the time she noticed the time she was a little bit late, so she slipped on a pair of black shoes, and set off on her way.
Her house was not far away from the Estate itself, so within 15 minutes she was approaching the front gates. She bade the guards a good evening, as she handed over her invitation and entered through the gates. She walked up the gravel path and into the front door of the Svetian estate, where she quickly found herself a nice drink and went to find someone she new to talk with....

You are all brought through by Haken into the estate. After leaving your horses with the stable boy, you are lead up heavy wooden stairs, culminating in ornately carved doors fashioned with the signature dragons which are found in many of the heralds of Brevoy. Upon their opening, you are welcomed with a spacious foyer, with an ornate oak coathanger, and pristinely smooth wooden floors, lit by a medium sized stained glass window, depicting a colourful rendition of the Svetian herald.

OOC: CHECK 1) DC 16 Knowledge (History) OR DC 18 Knowledge (Local)

Spoiler:

After hanging your coats and such, you are lead through a hallway into the grand hall of the estate. the room itself is rather grand for what you expected given the size of the house. It contains a large table with around 30 seats, and already you can see food being placed on the tables by an older man with a slight hunch, alongside a tall girl in her young teens. The room is well lit by large windows which look over the estate itself, as well as from the firepit in the center of the room, with a rather rotund pig being rotated by an olive skinned boy. At the window you can see two men, one is tall, probably in his 40's, with a well trimmed beard shaping his face, and the other quite thin with long arms, and stringy shoulder length dark hair.

OOC: CHECK 2) DC 16 Knowledge (Local)

Spoiler:

OOC: Tim/Mycroft

Spoiler:

OOC: People who have arrived and are in the room: Fabian, Aeldeth, Gerald, Thormar, Mycroft, Jenna. People who are in the estate and can enter: Guntram

Mycroft steps up to a comfortable distance behind the men at the window, pausing, allowing for a clear break in their conversation, and for his daughter to sufficiently brace herself for the attention to come.

DC Perform (Oration): 9 + 6 = 15

Mycroft's pitches his voice for recitation, but at a volume more suited to his surroundings.

"Though regarded with envy at merely a glance,
Heavy is the head that must carry a crown,
The wise, instead, marvel at his upright stance,
For the woes of a nation weigh him down.
I have read many such pieces on the duty that drives great leaders, but I can say now they speak volumes less than regal airs cast by your very presence, Lord Varthus." He bows formally, sensing the nervous half-curtsey of his book-clutching daughter.
"I fear my ego is not so grand as to presume than an advisor, even one as thorough as Mr. Rithe, has mentioned my name where your ears may hear it. My name is Mycroft Calfast, and it is a singular honour for my daughter and myself to be in your company this evening."
Jenna looks to Lord Varthus's face only for a moment, before snapping her eyes shut with anxiety. Mycroft remains deep in bow, awaiting a response.

"It seems a humble man receives his dues. I have in fact heard your name from the lips of Rithe himself. It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Calfast. I'm glad that you could make it to dine with us this evening. Now, I'm afraid you'll have you pardon my unfamiliarity, but you are a barrister, correct? I am always respectful of those involved in legal work. Keeping the populus of Restov honest."

Varthus' voice changes to a softer tone, as he observes the half hidden Jenna behind Mycroft.

"And who do we have here? Such a beautiful young lady, with such a peculiar headband."

Rithe in all of this is standing tall, and quiet, observing.

After returning to his full height and nodding at Varthus's confirmation of his profession, Mycroft smiles graciously, taking a small step to the side, and bidding his daughter step forward.

"This, my Lord, is my all-too-quiet shadow, and requisite reason for drawing breath, Jenna Calfast." Jenna's eyes remain low as she curtseys a second time, speaking her practised response at only slightly too soft a volume.
"I am honoured, as both a guest and a citizen, my Lord." After speaking she rapidly steps back to her original position, once again clutching the technical manual to her chest with both hands.

Taking his cue for rescue, Mycroft shifts back into Varthus's immediate gaze, lowering his voice to the mock-conspiratorial tone of a parent, leaning in with a subtle smirk.

For GM

Spoiler:

"Do forgive my daughter's withdrawn manner, my Lord. I fear the minor aberrant beneath her headband has only served to magnify her typically great shyness. You know how it is for ladies so young, every blemish or mark is a catastrophe that must be hidden from men and gods alike." Again resuming his full height and volume, Mycroft directs his new quick words towards Jenna.
"Princess, you look as if you're about to keel over forward with the weight of that tome! Go find yourself somewhere to sit for the moment, before your arms pluck clean from their shoulders." Jenna smiles into his eyes before leaping at her chance to socially disengage.

OOC: DC 12 Bluff based on circumstances -> Pass

Both Rithe and Varthus appear to accept this explanation, and Varthus replies:

"Ah yes, the enigma of the feminine mind. I myself have two daughters, and thus I find myself well versed in the bothers of the softer gender. But enough of this, tell me Mycroft. As a barrister there must be many stories of hair wrenching cases where you barely got your employer out of a tricky situation. Do you typically deal with debts ... lechery? Please, entertain us."

Upon leaving his room in one of the upper storeys, Guntram makes his way into the main hall via the staircase, sticking his head out to see if he recognizes all the guests, and keeping a special eye out for Lord Varthus and Sir Dagonet.

Dagonet, who has been listening to the conversation between Varthus and Mycroft, comes over to greet you Guntram

"Now, the tall man with the beard is Lord Varthus. I pray you treat him with respect, for I believe he has come to see you, young squire. Be strong, but not forceful. Go on."

Dagonet ushers you to come with him to the main conversation by the window.

Do you follow?

Guntram tries to hide his nervousness as he's making his way over to meet Lord Varthus.

"My trajectory through the ranks of the barrister's office has been rapid, and not always smooth. Having not come through a legal apprenticeship, but rather promoted from sketch-artist for the part I played in securing several convictions, my training had to be on-the-job. As such, my earliest cases tended to be the most litigiously clear-cut, though arguably the highest profile. As a matter of trivia, I prosecuted more murderers in my first month than in any month since! In fact I recently regaled Svilenius here with an account of the day I saved Magistrate Pycus from an assassin's blade during the middle of court proceedings, but it is interesting that you should mention lechery..."

DC Perform - Oration: 7 + 6 = 13

With bold flourishes and a mystery-driven narrative, Mycroft recites the tale of one of his more recent prosecutions. A supposedly impotent elderly gentlemen had been accused of charging out of the bushes at no less than 5 young women about town, soiling their skin and their dresses with immediate and unsolicited emissions from his erect phallus, before escaping like a bandit. While the witnesses were of good standing and emotionally sympathetic, the material defence was strong, as the interrogators were unable arouse the man's implement of offence, be it through brute stimulation or the skills of the most experienced brothel matron. Mycroft's conviction streak appeared in jeopardy, until he connected two disparate clues: the bizarre 'wheezing-like sounds' heard by the majority of the ladies before their attacks, and a peculiar, otherwise inexplicable white paste found diffuse around his loins when he was apprehended.

DC Perception: 17 + 6 = 23

Mycroft becomes keenly aware of the slow approach of footsteps behind him. One, perhaps two, of the party guests, seeking to partake in the collective conversation. Unable to resist, Mycroft raises his voice an octave, ensuring that the grand reveal of his story could be heard by the people approaching.
"..-and I paraphrase to the best of my recollection, I said: 'I put it to you, sir, that you are indeed most capable of a functional erection, but only through the enacting of a preparatory ritual, which accounts for the odd sounds that foreshadowed your attacks. For you, sir, are not only a molester of young women, but you stand before this court today, a goose-rapist!'"

OOC: Knowledge(local) checks: 5+4 = 9, 19+4 = 23

Thormar watches the man he surmises to be Lord Varthus with interest, while he and Hanna set about ladling out soup to all the trenchers. However, he doesn't recognise the other man, nor does he recognise the new entrant: all fine dark clothes, shiny sword, and hanging-on teenage companion.

He listens to new entrant spreak. It's not difficult to overhear the man. At the final exclamation of bird-molestation, Thormar sneers. "Man caught with a beast in my clan wouldn't be a man for much longer," he mutters dryly to Hanna. The girl's face is bright red from astonished giggles at the man's proclaimation. He sighs. "Go fetch in the house for the meal. You can tale-plead him once the eating and business is through." She shoots him a fake mournful look, then skips out.

Carrying the mostly-empty soup cauldron over firepit with some effort, Thormar sets it down there to keep warm, then - setting his most personable face - steers himself towards Lord Varthus and guests, to indicate that the meal is ready.

After gathering her drink Aeldeth wanders around the room picking up on small portions of conversations taking place in the room, and familiarising herself with those in attendance. She noticed that she was not very familiar with many of the people in attendance, which peaked her interest in what the reason behind this feast was. In particular, she is keeping her eye out for Lord Varthus and Sir Dagonet.
As she wandered, she spotted Sir Dagonet talking to a young man, who looked to be a squire, and heard him point out Lord Varthus to the young man. With this information, she followed behind the boy over to the window where Varthus was standing, already with a small crowd of people around him vying for a moment of his time.
Once at the window she found a position for herself between the young man and the gentleman that had been speaking to Varthus at they approached. She then waited for an appropriate break in the conversation to speak up. She then turned to Lord Varthus and said, “Good evening sir, my name is Aeldeth Trabrarali, it is a pleasure and an honor to make your acquaintance.”

Dagonet, not expecting that everyone would join the conversation at once, says "Ah, Aeldeth, how lovely of you to make it. I am glad you could take the time out of your so very busy schedule with the church to dine in our company."

He turns to you Thormar as you approach:

"Thormar, this feast you have prepared really is rather civilised. I am impressed, and I am sure that our guests will enjoy it. My guests, my Lord, would you care to seat yourselves?"

OOC: Thormar

Spoiler:

OOC: Jenna, and anyone who makes a DC 16 Perception

Spoiler:

After checking the servants had taken care of his belongings and settling Nagelfar* in the modest third floor guest bedroom, Fabian walking staff in hand made the long climb down the grand staircases to the main hall. The guests, well there weren't nearly as many as he expected. The hall was almost empty, a group of men and women stood at the far end. With little choice but to join the conversation Fabian walked the length of the room to join them. He arrived just in time for the group to break up and move to the dinning table. Giving a courteous bow to Lord Varthus, Fabian waited to be shown his seat at the table.

*(OOC: Nagelfar is the name of Fabian's pet cat, he accompanies Fabian on his travels)

Jenna clamps her eyes shut. She searched the energies inside her, seeking the clues, the threads of eldritch logic, the fundaments of the arcane effect she needed... But it's no use. She does not yet know how to become invisible...
She takes a deep breath before turning her head slightly in the direction of the voice, eyes returning to the page.

"This is technical manual on the construction, maintenance, and viable implementations of non-pressured water systems." She struggles to keep the venom from her voice. While trying to hold her calm, sage words of advice oft-repeated by her father drift into her mind. 'If given an offer they feel compelled to refuse, polite harassment can be quickly turned into a polite apology for needing to be elsewhere. You must be more than boring, you must be sincerely boring'. Jenna takes a quick breath and turns to the girl beside her.
"It's really very interesting if you understand the mathematical foundations of fluid mechanics." She turns over the cover of the book, and grasps 20 or so pages from an earlier chapter between her fingers. "If you'd like me to explain the equations to you, we'd only have to cover these two sections." Remembering additional details, she then also lifts up the 40 or so pages preceding these. "That's assuming you're proficient with wave-modelling, if not, it may take a bit longer to go through the basics..." Jenna opens to a particularly dense set of spread equations in the first chapter, opening the double page wide for the interrupting girl to see.

Hanna's eyes widen as she sees the myriad of equations spread across the double page "That's not nearly as fun as climbing. What else do you like to do?"

Jenna summons up the best of her acting ability. She had seen her father do this a thousand times, surely it isn't only magic shared in their blood...

DC Bluff: 6 + 4 = 10

"Climbing?! Shambling up on some high ledge, risking life and limb to look at the same things, but at a downward angle? Please. Come come, if you want real intrigue, I can explain the basic differentials of spread, like when an object falls at a perpendicular angle into a body of fluid, and build from there."

DC Knowledge (Engineering): 10 + 7 = 17

"Now I know what you're thinking, 'with or without sufficient force to deform beyond surface tension?' Fear not, we will address that second. Now, when granting a singular point of influence, in a medium presumed to have uniform viscosity, the amplitude of the initial displacement can be taken as 'a', represented here as lower-case rather than upper-case, I will explain why in a moment. The initial rate of propagation is a function of this amplitude, and of the density of the medium, provided this constant is not exceeded, again, we'll return to this. It goes without saying that propagation of the wave is uniform through all 360 degrees, unless we have to account for object-spin or a non-perpendicular angle of incidence. Are you following so far?" Jenna's eye scrutinises her unwelcomed companion, who has taken on the silent honorary of 'chipmunk girl', as much for her empty-headed preoccupation with climbing, as for her full pinkish cheeks, a stark contrast to Jenna's somewhat starved appearance.

Hanna frowns and turns up her nose"Well, that is very interesting, however I have to go deal with this ... important thing in the back yard!"

OOC: BOOM CRIT Bluff - 1d20+8 → [20,8] = (28)

She tries to exclude herself from the conversation.

DC Sense Motive: 11 + 2 = 13 (Not even close)

Relief washes through Jenna's body as the energetic girl springs away. She was starting to develop a legitimate interest, thank the gods she had prior engagements outside! Clearly Jenna's faux-enthusiasm had been far too convincing... If she couldn't manage a friendly deflection, as her father would, she will just have to fall back on the tried and true unfriendly variety.