Priestess, Mage, and Common Man

Though to you your children seem frightfully young, you were twice to three times their age before you were full grown, you have to keep reminding yourself that because they are human they grow and mature with far greater rapidity than you did: and conversely you will probably lay each of them to rest when they are old and gray as well. Though your eldest is scarce 25 years old she, like your other two is well grown and they all know their own minds. You may be their mother but the time when they needed to be tied to your apron strings is long done, and they are, if not your equals yet, rapidly catching you up in their competence at their chosen professions.

Your oldest daughter, Valeria, followed in her maternal grandmother's footsteps and became a Priestess of Heironeous, then when she was a full adult the Constable and Rive for the Village of Blackensnap where she grew up. Now 25 years of age she is considered an old maid by human standards. She could care less, if she really worked at it: but most of the time the subject doesn't even register in the massive bundle of nerves that lies just under her short mop of curly blond locks.

That is, at least it didn't, until her mother was elevated to the rank of Countess and she was suddenly being 'courted' by dozens upon dozens of social climbers and would be noblemen. They almost all claim that she, hatchet-faced and heavily muscled as she is, is the Epitome of beauty, and they have eyes for no-one else... They are getting nowhere of course, she is an officer of the law by training, has more ranks in 'Sense Motive' than most peasants have sheep, and can see though their bullshit without breaking a sweat. This is not to say however that the matter is not still vying for her attention. Though most of her 'suitors' are near-do-wells and charlatans there are two who seem to genuinely see past her bark-tanned skin and small bosom to the inner core of both kind and cunning woman beneath, and like what they see.

The first is Sir Nathaniel Goldbrick, the bastard son of the Dowager-Duchess Mariana Melville, with whom she has much in common, yet seems to have little chemistry. The second is a landless and in fact family-less elfin sell-sword named Dho'tahlimil; with whom she has explosive chemistry but little more, so it would seem...

Sir Nathaniel Goldbrick's attraction to Valeria stems from the many commonalities between them: both are nobles, he a Landed Knight, she a Countess's heir: Both follow and worship Heironeous, he as a Paladin, she a Cleric: both are of an age and unmarried, he 26, she 25: both share a dedication to doing Good in the world and upholding The Law: and if your daughter is not the most attractive of women, what of it? He has been called 'effeminate' by his peers more than once: where those who chose to be unkind to your daughter have often used the word 'mannish': and would not those two traits, combine in their children, create a better balance? However, while they have a lot in common there is no real spark, no chemistry between them: their union would, at least at first, be more of a mutually beneficial nuptual arrangement than a proper Marriage.

Her other serious suitor: Dho'tahlimil; does not have THAT problem! Dho as he is called for short, (which you happen to know means 'Falcon' in elvish.) has so much of a 'spark' with your eldest daughter that you are surprised they don't set the furniture on fire just by being in close proximity: but that is all he can offer. Though he is an accomplished swordsman and experienced adventurer he is landless, penniless, and has no family connections of any kind: in that last case quite literally, as whatever his family may be he not only will not speak of it but claims that both he and they have publicly denounced, disclaimed, and disowned one another. However, unlike Sir Nathaniel they seem to have some measure of unreserved affection for one another: and without that there is an even chance that love, or alternately hate, will develop out of so close an association as a marriage...

You are for the moment too preoccupied with cleansing the castle manorial and getting started on your task from the queen to think much about weighing in one way or another on her choice of spouse, and are hoping, though you chastise yourself for it you cannot deny the feeling is there; that as both have decided to accompany your little attack **** and lend their sword arm to the retaking of the castle the goblins will 'solve the problem' for you...

Your middle child, Elisabeth, took after her father in more ways than one. Not only does she bear more than a passing resemblance to her sire, dull, wavy, dark hair with a propensity to tangle, watery blueish-gray eyes, and unblemished skin so fair that the slightest touch of full sun will give her a painful burn in under an hour: but like him she also took to the mantle of Wizardry with zeal and ardor. She, like father and grandfather before her, is a member in good standing of the Order of the Open Hand, just recently accorded the rank of Journeyman and finally able to think of marriage at the age of 23.

Like your elder daughter she has more suitors than you can shake a stick at and though there are several serious contenders the field has not narrowed to a short enough list to have anyone who stands out as a top pick: except for three men and one woman, all fairly low on the totem pole you would have said before a week ago, who have answered her call to all her many suitors to prove their ardor by standing with her and you in cleansing the castle where she intends to live once she is accorded the rank of Mistress of The Art and able to teach students of her own.

You know all of them half as well as you'd like, and suspect you like them half as well as they deserve, but the fallowing details are vouchsafed to you about each of them.

Prince Oscar of the Northern Isles:

Off the Western Coast of Lore in the north lies a small kingdom where the strange religion of the Frost Giant Jarls of the Far Frost Lands holds sway, yet there are no giants. The kings of this realm of storm tossed sandy and rocky islands off the north coast claim that they were given the land at the bequest of the last High-King of the Frost Giants for they had rescued his daughter from a White Dragon that had ruled the islands, and delivered her safely into his keeping once more. They also claim that their first king was a veritable mountain of a man, the largest human who ever lived. He stood 15 feet tall and in all other proportions matched that massive height, yet was fully human, blessed, some might argue cursed, himself included, with his great size by the god Wotan. As he was so large, in gratitude the High-King's daughter Igsolka gave him one of her handmaidens to be his wife so that no Jarl could ever question the legitimacy of he and his descendants claims to the Islands, and they had nine children together. Three of their children, their eldest son included, died in various heroic fashions defending the realm from the chaos that followed the last High-King's **** without issue, three of them went in search of the gates of the Sun and Moon to bring back the Crown of the Sky by which a new High-King could be chosen and never returned, and the remaining three became the progenitors of the three lines of Jarls who rule the people in the name of the King.

Prince Oscar is seventh of 12 brothers sired by the current King of the Northern Isles on his queen, Glemina, a Frost Giant of the comparatively slight stature of 8 feet tall, having what the reader would recognize as congenital dwarfism. Her husband, Oscar's father, King Wilhelm the Silent, stands six-feet-six-inches but still his wife towers over him, even when seated. However theirs is, while an arranged match, one that has born a great deal of fruit and become a love match as well, even though King Wilhelm is now an old man while his wife has barely entered middle age. They say that the queen abstains from her husband's bed, not because they do not desire each other but because neither could bear being the cause of the emotional agony Glemina would face if King Wilhelm died while in his wife's arms...

In any case Prince Oscar is the Seventh Son of his parent's get, and wishes to have a large family so that he too will have a seventh son and thus contribute a new bloodline of wizards to the world. He is a half-giant, standing eight and a half feet tall, and is a Magus by class: he tried to train as a Wizard but found he lacked the requisite magical potency and that his father's instance on martial training hampered his studies, gradually blending the two into a cohesive whole.

Jack of Mount-Ibsen, Journeyman of the Order of the Burning Rose:

Long and often rightly it has been said that Wizards would do best to marry another Wizard, though you certainly proved there are exceptions to that rule, but Journeyman Jack seems to think that it is proved right often enough to call upon your daughter Elizabeth with offer of union and moreover to stand firm in his devotion to the idea in the face of mortal danger.

Jack is a is a foundling, left in a basket on the slopes of Mount-Ibsen and come upon by a young couple out prospecting. He was found with a short letter, proclaiming his name to be Jack and that he was the Ninth son of a peasant family who could not afford to feed him. Jack was taken in by the temple of Baccob in the next valley over, and taught magic. Though they had hoped for a priest he instead showed affinity as he grew for the arcane magics, and they tested him as the mysteries instructed. His talents proved to be based around all things having to do with fire, and so he was transferred at the age of 7 to the care of one of the rare practitioners of the Order of the Burning Rose.

Master Dartmoor schooled and cared for the boy till he was a man of 21 years, then accorded Jack the rank of Journeyman and sent him on his way. Some wandering and work as a mercenary followed before he heard of your elevation to the Rank of Countess and your daughter Elizabeth's equally recent elevation to the rank of Journeyman, at which point he began to put all his efforts into courting her. You would have thought him just a social climber, one among many, had he not agreed to join the **** to attack the castle, a winnowing maneuver which narrowed a field of dozens to less than a handful. Perhaps he still IS just a social climber, but he is, if nothing else, a brave one, and Elizabeth is not your heir anyway, so if he seeks higher rank she is of little use to him...

Sir Reginald, Duke of Chutney:

This portly and thrice widowed man is tall and broad shouldered, but somehow unappealing in aspect.

He is 20 years your daughter Elizabeth's senior and has quite the reputation since each of his wives died in childbirth within 2 years of the wedding, but somehow your daughter does not seem concerned by this eventuality.

Chutney is a rich coastal Duchy which is much involved in the southern sea trade. It is sunny and warm and your daughter fancies the place, from what little she has seen of it via scrying.

'Sister' Erin Botcher, the Capitol Courtesan:

Erin is the strangest of the group who have come to court Elizabeth's hand, for many reasons but the largest of which is she is a woman.

In Lore, thanks to the prevalence of magic, women and men can marry among their own gender: however there must be an agreement which one will use a Girdle of Opposite Gender to 'switch sides' and become the husband/wife. Erin is trying to convince your daughter Elizabeth to become male and marry her, and not only you but all her other courtiers are somewhat alarmed that Elizabeth seems to be seriously considering it...

'Sister' Erin is a card carrying member in good standing of the Truthanaw Thieves Guild, and one of the highest ranked persons to be so. She technically is a 'Countess Liturgical' of Olidamara, and as such eminently suitable for your daughter to marry: assuming one of them is willing to become male, and if you can look past the fact that she is a prostitute and thief...

Your youngest is your son, Vincent, and he is the odd man out of your children in more ways than one.

Your husband had planned to have Vincent follow in his footsteps as he had his own father, but while he practiced diligently at his cantrips from the age of five to twelve that came to an abrupt end when he ran away from home for the first, and thankfully also only, time.

You see, while Vincent is no dullard, he realized that while he might master the first second and even third circle of The Art, no matter how hard he tried he would never be able to command the greatest magics of Wizardry and for Vincent if you cannot be among the best at something it is not worth wasting ones time on.

After stealing an amulet of non-detection from his father's workshop and making an excuse that he was going to a sleep over at a friend's house after seeing the show of a multi-racial group of performers that had stopped in the village he stowed away on one of their wagons and was gone fifty miles before you even knew he was missing.

It took two weeks to track him down since with the amulet of non-detection on your husband could not scry on him, but track him down you did and he was quite contrite and more than willing to come home, while the troupe he had been with was, since you obviously cared about him more than he had claimed if you had come all this way in search of him, quite willing to let him go home.

You sat down that night with him and his father and got the truth out of him, and for your husband it was a bitter pill to swallow, but he accepted that four generations of wizards passed from father to son ended with him, and after all, why should that be a surprise when he had but the one son in whom to have entrusted the tradition anyway? Besides, his father had told him long ago that it would most likely be his daughter that bore the talent, and he knew the old goat was laughing about it from beyond the grave, so he accepted the verdict of history and gave Vincent his blessing to pursue a career that he could not only be passable at but truly GREAT.

At first Vincent planed to become a Magus, as their divided focus meant they could never master spells beyond the sixth circle anyway, but by and by he began to neglect his magical studies in favor of honing his skill with your own 'Florentine' style of two sword combat, and there, in fields of blood and flashing steel, he found his muse. He became a master of the 'Florentine' style of combat, learning from not only you, but after he turned 18 duelists and mercenaries across the kingdom, gaining quite the reputation as not only a skilled adventurer but a cunning strategist and quite the crusader for the cause of justice and right: such as once having gone to a whorehouse with 5 other supposedly horny adventuring companions and over the course of the evening knocked out and tied up all the guards and helped the women held captive there escape before forcing the proprietor out into the street at knife-point and flagging down a constable to arrest him on enslavement charges.

Of course Vincent, as your only son, had more than a few women playing the subtle and backhanded game of 'Courting From Bellow' but as with your other children almost all fell away when you asked them to prove their mettle to both him and his parents, all but four.

The first is the frontrunner, in a way it's her game to lose, but you dislike her intensely, the reasons where-to-for you're not quite sure of.

Her name is Isabela Roquefort: The Bane of the Dead, and she's been your son's on-again/off-again lover since he was 16. They lost their virginity to each other, signed on with the Adventurers Guild of Lore together at 18, and became co-leaders of thier own party at 19, now just turned 20, they've left the party to join your **** on the Castle Manorial, and formed another: sponsoring the three other contenders into the Adventurers Guild.

You've never liked Isabela, you can't fathom WHY either, but you have always hated her. There's something about her lack of modesty, the way she is brazenly sexual with everyone, not just your son but people she has only just met. You know in your heart, though you have never obtained PROOF, that she cheats on Vincent with both men and women. You are confident that at least one of the other contenders is such a "bit of stuff", though you can't guess who. That's not the core of it though: you've known Isabela Roquefort since she was a child, she and Vincent were playmates since they were small, and you NEVER liked her. When Vincent was a boy you forbade him to see her, but they snuck around behind your back for months. It was part of what precipitated his one attempt to run away, and that was when you relented...

A small part of your resentment is Isabela Roquefort's beauty. She has raven black locks that hangs in natural curls and ringlets down to her shoulders. Her breasts are perky and firm where yours have begun to sag a bit since you nursed your children. Her skin is a light olive but she has the unmitigated GALL to have eyes the color of the richest dark Sapphire. She could string along ANY man with her brilliant looks but instead she has sunk her hooks into YOUR little boy, who she knows will forgive her every indiscretion...

In terms of profession Isabela Roquefort is a bard, but "not just any bard", she's a "Hymnalist": a bardic psuedo-Cleric and has the NERVE to claim her spells come from Sarenrae, your mother's patron.

You bear no expecial ill will twards the other three suitors who have come to join you and your children in the cleansing of the Castle Manorial, but they are a very strange group, especially in that they are not at all hostile twards one another though all competing for Vincent's hand in marriage...

First, and perhaps most peculiar is "Black China" a halfling with a dark past about which she refuses to speak, but patients of nobility giving her the rank of Baroness "For Services Rendered To The Crown". She is a Sorceress by class, her bloodline being "Dreamspun": she comes from a long line of lucid dreamers who have gained an ever closer association with the realm of dreams as the generations have passed.

Black China is swarthy of skin and hair, though her hair is quite peculiar, being not so much hair per-see as a tangible black ectoplasmic cloud in which twinkle faint stars flowing from her head in some ethereal breeze. She stands four foot seven inches tall, has an unbelievably huge rack and ass for someone of her stature. Though she's got a thicker waist than is fashionable, she's not really FAT at all.

The next woman is another human, Lady Victoria Malagasy Brickell, a Druid of Gaia's calling and co-religionist of yours. You know she's a noble women from the north west coast, the third daughter of a Barron therabouts, but haven't tried to get her life's story. She bears the fair skin, bucksom breasts, and blond hair of the region of her birth.

The Last member of your son's courtiers is an Elf by the name of