It is a brisk and breezy evening in the nation of Brevoy. Laying on the north-eastern border of Golarion, this young nation has seen much turmoil, and has only recently been free to decide its own destiny in life. All of its citizens feel this, leading to the birth of many adventurers and fate-makers. Those who wish to add their names to the history books travel the nation and beyond, bringing back tales of bravery, victory, and defeat.

Today, on the 24th of Calistril, a line of these future fatemakers wait impatiently for an opportunity that will change the face of Golarion forever. Lady Jamandi Aldori, a well known noblewoman and swordlord of Restov, has made a call for all aspiring adventurers. The call was sparse with details, but the reward mentioned was enough to entice all that line up in front of manor: a noble title. The title is great, but what is behind the title is far greater: wealth, leadership, and, greatest of all, territory to call one's own.

And it is not difficult to figure out what the surface of Lady Aldori's plan is: whoever can fight for their own territory in the Stolen Lands, which Restov sits just outside its northern border, claims it, and most likely gains Lady Aldori's support.

Our story centers on two of these adventurers: Zrak, a Ysoki, or commonly known as Ratfolk, and Malkala, one of the Dragonborne, a race not well known in Golarion. These two stand at the very end of the line, staring up at the manor just a mere fifty feet in front of them.

The manor is elegant, standing at three stories tall, with some extensions up to four stories. If one was looking at it from above, they would see that it is shaped as a flat, extended V. In the front is a beautiful, clear yard with only a few trees bearing fruit planted. The yard is surrounded by a stone wall with flower-bearing vines wrapped in, out, and around it. It all looks like it was recently tended to, though no servants can be seen working it. The only servants are a pair of half-elf women that are helping lead adventurers into the manor. However, two armored guards stand by the wall's portcullis. At first glance they are standing casually, but a closer look shows that their hands are near their blades, ready to defend the manor as needed. More guards can be seen patrolling the top of the wall, bows, crossbows, and guns at the ready.

Of the two adventurers, Zrak is a most unusual sight. For a Ysoki, he has a rather shady appearance: a hefty green and brown cloak layers over his studded leather armor and atop his head, hiding his big ears; sharp green eyes pokes out from the eyeholes of the cloak, as do his snout showing his short, light brown fur, nose, and whiskers. A wickedly fiendish rat tail sways behind him, sweeping dirt and dust alike, and accompanying the rapid taps of his pale-purple clawed feet.

He is a little larger than most Ysoki. Even hunched over, he stands nearly 4 feet tall, heaving a brown pack on his back as if it is a light blanket. On the back of his waist is a most peculiar device. A small metal ball attaches by rope to the metal of an equally-small dagger. Even sagging to his waist, the metal ball lumbers with a weight that can crush a man's head. The blade, however, is light, rusted, quite useless for combat is one attempts to stab another with it.

Zrak twitches his head beneath the cloaked hood, sniffing the air. Restov had a pristine atmosphere at first glance, with the faint scent of flowers and mild talk by other adventurers. Everything felt so... different compared to his home in Numeria. There wasn't crazy technology, no barbarians, no might makes right attitudes. Everything just seems, to him, oddly organized and tidy.

Zrak has been agitated throughout his time here, tapping the stone road with his feet and occassionally clicking his brutally sharp incisors together. He isn't a rat in a trap, but he never wants to be lulled in a false sense of security.

Compared to the other adventurers, Zrak leans his body back and up to see the top of Lady Aldori's manor. It is a damn pretty sight, if nothing else, though the factor of size makes him wretch beneath his armor.

He lowers his head down towards Malkala, who is still a good two feet taller than him. Opening his mouth to speak, Zrak's voice spews out a rough and grizzled moan toward his fellow adventurer. "All this waiting is stressing me out." His voice has a tone similar to the barbarians of Numeria, and a throat that had breathed too much sandy wind. "I was expecting more strife and gloom, but it's all really peaceful." In a futile attempt, he leans around the other lined-up adventurers to see what's ahead of them. "But they sure are keeping all this quiet and secret, aren't they?"

As Zrak looks at Malkala, he sees a woman who resembles the powerful dragons of the world. Green scales cover her whole six and a half foot body, her face elongated into a powerful snout, and reptilian eyes that seem to never stop moving. It looks like she is always thinking, always planning, always taking notes of her surroundings. Even though she is simply standing there, she seems like she should be writing down her stream of consciousness.

A breeze rolls by the pair, lightly shifting her leather coat around, the simple cloth shirt poking out from underneath. All of her clothes underneath the coat, including her leather pants held up by a simple belt, have strange looking stains, as if she was a messy eater and ate unnaturally colored food. One taloned hand rests on the handle of a thin, slightly curved sword. It is beautifully maintained blade with elegant designs on its hilt. While it is not visible from where Zrak is standing, he knows that a double barreled pistol hangs from her hip. Along her belt are various vials of different colors, labeled with a simple label with one or two words. More vials dangle and clink together from her backpack attached securely to her back.

At Zrak's question, her mouth curls up one on side in a smirk. A couple specks of green saliva fall at her 'hmph'. They hit the ground and a curl of smoke come up from the dirt burning. "She has to at least try to be secretive." She nods to the line in front of the pair, "But it is going to be very hard to hide this for long. Lady Aldori knows that and will be preparing for the political backlash. She is the most famous swordlord in Brevoy after all."

It is not difficult for Zrak to notice a hint of reverence in Malkala's voice. His eyes instinctively dart down to the blade in which Malkala has tightened her grip. He is not sure what the blade is as he had never seen it before, but it clearly had importance to the Dragonborne woman.

"Yeah, yeah I get it. Gotta respect someone in power." The reverence in Malkala's voice is not a soothing one to Zrak, backed by the oddly-soothing yet threatening sound of her acid on dirt. He lightly chatters his sharp incisors, tilting his rodent head to one side. He looks back towards the line after and heaves a big sigh. "At least it might get us a head start before it gets out to everyone."

Unlike Malkala, the ratfolk isn't taking notes of his surroundings. Nor did he seem to plan things out as he twitched in place. His mindset is closer to instinctual, reacting to things as they come and deal with the consequences as they may. Echoing from his armor is the light PAT of glass on leather, as if having a potion for emergency situations.

He leaps up in place, attempting to look above the others in line. Most of them do not have the fidgeting he does, either able to contain it inside themselves, or simply are at ease waiting.

His agitation eases up as the two get closer to the manor, hastily reminding himself that it should not be a long meeting, if all went right.

Though as a barbarian, he knows far less about Brevory than his companion. Lacking the same sense of respect to , he plainly asks Malkala, "So what else have you heard or read about Lady Aldori?"

Malkala's eyes almost literally light up at the question about Lady Aldori. Her voice becomes excited and passionate as she seems to almost spew out information at a rapid pace, "She is an Aldori swordlord, a wealthy and influential woman who is recognized as one of Restov's greatest warriors ever. She got that recognition from taking jobs as a mercenary and from her skills as an Aldori Duelist." At the last couple of words, she motions toward her sword, "People say that her dueling sword trails fire when it strikes."

Her face then curls down, slightly sad, "Unfortunately she no longer works as a mercenary except for the occasional job. She is focusing more on the needs of her manor, troops, and duty to Restov. I wish she was still acitve. I would have loved to hear more stories about her adventuring. Her and the other Aldori swordlords inspired me to become a duelist." Her mouth turns back up, though, as she says, "But, I'll have the chance to make my own adventures and stories."

Both adventurers are getting close to the manor now. They stand just inside the portcullis, and only about twenty feet from the door. As they cross through, the metal gate starts to lower, the clincking and clanging of chains very loud despite being set within the walls. They turn around to look as the gate sets into fittings in the ground, locking in place.

Malkala studies the gate for a second, "Lady Aldori is not taking any chances." She then shrugs and starts walking forward again, "So, what about you? Why is a Ysoki like yourself accepting the call of heroes?"

Zrak's left eye twitches, a slight recognition of both surprise and fear. The toes on his digitigrade legs cease moving, and his mind briefly thought about the past, why he's here, and what life was like until now.

His sudden stillness is not lost on Malkala, who recognizes that he is lost in thought, and certainly not in happy memories.

When Zrak responds, it's with a shaky, husky tone. "You know how I came from Numeria?" The place needs no introduction; it is a barren and dangerous place, conquered and ruled by barbarians and berserkers alike, where the land had been torn apart when a ship from the stars crashed down on it. "I grew up among the barbarians. My family was my tribe; we were all Ysoki, raging beasts by day and night!" Zrak's voice perks up as he spoke, enjoying the recollection of his kind. "We followed the ways of the wolf, always a pack, striking with what we got, and biting where we couldn't." The long smile across his snout visibly demonstrates his sharp teeth.

Then, leaning in, he quietly, and angrily whispers in Malkala's ear. "Then we met the Tiger Lords."

He leans back, an ireful look replacing his smile. "My family's scattered since, and none of us have a home left. Right now, that's all I want to give them." The ratfolk looks back up at the manor, stretching his hunched back to see the top. "I know little about ruling, but this'll be my best chance. And maybe... maybe I can find my family after."

There is a brief moment, when the line moves forward, but Malkala does not. She seems to have become lost in thought as well at the mention of family. Finally, she returns to reality and catches up with the line.

"It seems like we both were motivated by family. Just on opposite sides of the spectrum."

Her head turns to look behind her again, but when Zrak tries to follow her line of sight, he finds that she is looking at nothing. The look on her face is one of longing, yearning for something. This time, she snaps back fast and moves with the line.

"Dragonborne are a secretive race, trying not to get involved in the going-ons of Golarion. Yet, I cannot ignore the call of adventure. It got me into loads of trouble with the others of my tribe." There is a brief smile, but only for a moment as she continues, "I think they finally got fed up with me. My tribe all had their wings, but as you can see," under her backpack you can see her shoulder blades twitch, "I do not. When an beast attacked the tribe, I held it back long enough for them to escape. But no one had waited for me. They all fled and left me, presumably to die."

Her hand once again goes down to the curved blade at her side, "But Lady Aldori found me, helped me heal, and showed me the Aldori Dueling Academy. And now I am here to follow all of the Aldori Swordlords before me and make a name for myself."

There is one more moment. Then, she violently shakes her head, "That is enough of that. This is a day of celebration after all. We are about to journey into the wilds of the Stolen Lands. Excitement, thrills, dangers, and the chance of fame await us!"

The pair find themselves almost at the door, only ten feet ahead of them. They can hear the group of four adventurers ahead of them speaking with the half-elf servants before one of them escorts the group into the manor.

Zrak's mouth stays shut, and his long snout is still, throughout the remaining wait time into the manor. He thinks over Malkala's words, realizing he never questioned her lack of wings. The sight isn't unusual to him, for he has seen plenty more unusual in Numeria.

What she had been through, however, is something he can't imagine. To be abandoned by your own tribe? Why?

The hunched ratfolk's mind dances with these thoughts as he sees the last group of adventurers enter. A warm light comes out of the entrance, and his whiskered snout catches a strong-but-pleasing scent within. While he does not share the same idealism for Lady Aldori, he trusts Malkala's enough to swallow his own anxiety.

As the two approach the front, Zrak looks up at the two armored guards. Each of them had a foreboding, intimidating size augmented by their armor. These are the sort of fighters which you don't approach in Numeria, much less messed with. The scale between him and them startles