Design the Mayor of Caer Cyflen (January Community Contest)

Hildr "Half-Spoon" Snorrisdottr is a dwarf born and raised in Caer Cyflen. Her dad had been assistant to two previous mayor when she set out to become a wizard.

Years later she return, her smart and bravery having made her a successful adventurer, to find the current mayor completely inapt to properly manage the city and her own father too old to help guide him.

Soon enough, people start going to her for advice on how to deal with different problem of the city, knowing her father reputation and her smart. Now, Hildr is not really a people person. A good day for her is a day where she doesn't have to interact with anyone, but people keep pestering her so she went on to solve problem with a lot of efficacy as she hoped to be get rid of those damn people harassing her about their problem.

Now, it could probably have worked, if she hadn't be so efficient. Lot of citizen of Caer Cyflen started banded together to get the current mayor replace with Hildr, as she was very much better at the job than he was.

That's how a grumpy dwarf mage got elected (fully against her own will) mayor of Caer Cyflen and keep her city as tidy as possible since as it's the only way for her to catch a break from people bothering her.

She usually don't want to talk to anyone but adventurer, as they remind her of her early years when she was one herself and had no responsibility to shoulder. She'll probably respond with a certain aggressiveness to anyone talking to her, until she recognized adventurer and then switch about telling them about the time she fought such monster or the time her party found the sword of ass kicking.

She will stare dagger at anyone calling her Half-Spoon to her face, but in the lower tavern of the city, we still tell the tale of the wizard that almost choked to death on a spoon of gruel. It is to note that we haven't seen since the bard that said "Maybe we should get a half spoon to the lady, it seems a full spoon is too much too handle for her!"

Harglek "Sparkbeard" Turbelsson

A robust and direct dwarf, Harglek is a former adventurer who found that his wanderlust was sated the first time he encountered serious danger. While adventuring his party encountered a fire elemental with a particular hate for bearded dwarves. The elemental struck Harglek and a spark ignited his beard. With some fanfare and more than a little frustration, Harglek managed to vanquish the flame in his beard as well as the elemental, earning him the nickname of Sparkbeard from his fellows.

While not afraid of dying, the young dwarf learned a fine lesson, there are those meant to be adventurers and there are those meant to support adventurers' endeavors, he decided then he was meant to support.

In an effort to be a supporter of adventurers, Harglek Turbelsson came to Caer Cyflen and opened a shop to sell adventuring gear, weapons, and armor. His amicable charm and grand tales of his own short-lived adventuring days earned him the respect of the people around him. He announced his candicacy for mayor after several years of running his shop.

Harglek has a deep and gravelly dwarven voice, the kind of bass that reverberates off the walls in an enclosed room. His cheer is more than a match for the deep stone-crunch of his dialect. Always ready with a friendly word or a bit of advice for adventurers, Harglek is an easy spirit with infectious charm.

Harglek is less focused on the daily details of his office and more on interacting with the people. He loves adventurers as if they were family and whenever they come to town always wants to visit and share a few of his tales and a few of their own. His favorite past-time is visiting the local pub and engaging in song with the patrons there.

Baerla Margani is a fuming woman, and it's a testament to her self-control that the worst way her anger shows is grinding teeth and a stare not of daggers, but full-on battleaxes. That self-control served her well in her impoverished, teenaged years, spent in, uh, creative archaeology in the Badlands - though she is appreciative of the keen and quick mind and toned, tanned body that life gave her, she is even MORE appreciative of the fact that she no longer has to live the risky, uncertain life of tomb rai-, er, Badlands archaeologist. 

The proceeds of a lucky find* allowed her to become a sponsor of adventurers seeking the relics instead of having to do the work herself - combining the go-getter attitudes of hand-picked novice adventurers with her own expertise of Badlands archaeology, the expeditions she funded (in exchange for a sizeable share of the profits, of course) were almost always wildly successful and profitable, resulting in both an ever-increasing fortune and sizeable influence for Baerla.

An entrepeneuring woman, she was quick and effective in leveraging those new advantages into a place of political power - the common folk supported her due to her numerous civic projects (intended to ease the hardships of those born to the lowest classes, as she was), while those of a more adventurous bent often saw in her a symbol of hope for their own elevated future. That leveraging culminated in her election as mayor of Caer Cyflen, a position that allowed her to put government resources to the same use as her own personal assets. She still keeps eyes on a couple of her political opponents who were, shall we say, less than gracious about her climbing, but this is mostly due to the healthy dose of alertness she developed in her more dangerous youth - few, if any, would risk making a move against the popular and beloved mayor.

Her tenure as mayor has been marked by civic improvements and an investment into the city's defences, in both architecture and manpower - if this latter tendency is the result of general precautions or in response to some information Baerla received from her extensive network of contacts is anyone's guess. If conversation in Caer Cyflen's taverns is any indication, it's EVERYONE's guess.

Her biggest accomplishment, however, and the defining moment of her tenure so far, was the discovery of the mountain passage linking the Principality to the Badlands. Compared to the alternative routes, it's a veritable highway allowing for the quick flow of Manacalon artifacts straight into the Principality, a highway that cost her much, in capital both financial and political, to establish. And now bloody Silverflower had agreed to the godsdamned Legacy Council, turning the result of her costly investment over to a bunch of quarreling representatives of the four realms, at least half of whom wouldn't know a Manacalon artifact from a half-baked slice of dwarven bread if they had to eat it!** Bloody Silverflower!

Much of her time is spent attempting to lobby for the other three realms to pay (and pay dearly) for the right to access the artifacts arriving through the mountain pass, money she intends to use to fortify and further secure the passage. She has mostly reached a stalemate, though, as offers of repayment seem to always include the quartering of a contingent of the repaying realm's troops in the passage, something that even Silverflower has the good sense to not accept.

And thus, Baerla Margani is a fuming woman, whose mildly-successful attempts to relax are evenly divided to poring over the newest Manacalonian acquisitions and taking a stroll though Cyflen's verdant gardens.

Still, despite her busy schedule, Baerla is more than happy to meet with adventurers who seek funding or support to an expedition into the Badlands or who are looking to sell some of their finds. With them, she is friendly enough, occasionally cracking a smile or a laugh, and eager to exchange stories and advice on Badlands archaeology.

Likes: Adventurers, archaeology, civic improvements, lush gardens, roasted jackalope

Dislikes:Self-important parasitic nobles (and aren't they all), bloody Silverflower, the godsdamned Legacy Council, barren landscapes, not knowing things, mashed potatoes (don't ask)

*the not-quite-final UNresting place of one Myzzrym Funhater - Baerla sold most of the loot to fund her social and financial climb, except one tin spoon she kept as a memento and which, as luck would have it, is the one thing that keeps the risen, vengeful wraith at bay.

**Manacalon artifacts, as many know, are far more digestible than dwarven bread. Of course, so is pretty much anything else.

Tara Bramblefoot is a halfing female with a knack for opening doors.  During her adventuring days, Tara took care of all of the risky things like traps, doors and sneaking into rooms for intel gathering.  All these things made governing feel simple at first, though of late her adventurous side  isn't getting scratched quite like she'd prefer.  One of the reasons adventuring parties would employ miss Bramblefoot was that she never met a door that she couldn't open.  Wearing a large chain around her neck with no less than 100 keys on it, Tara often sought out additional keys as payment.  After all, she was determined to have a key for every door. Unbeknownst to her, the necklace was actually magical with a powerful version of a knock spell allowing her to open doors with keys on the chain.  Each key added to the chain, adds a charge, each one used loses one.

When Tara decided to retire to Caer Cyflen it was a time of great divisiveness.  She in fact had no intentions of being a Governer, but one night while partaking at the tavern, a great fire erupted burning several homes and one of the wealthier inns.  With doors locked, rescue personnel were struggling to save the inhabitants when Tara rushed onto the scene unlocking doors and helping to rescue townsfolk.

In the days following, several townsfolk from both parties urged Tara to run.  Thinking of the opportunity this would allow her to find more keys, Tara jumped at the chance and actually found it more enjoying than she expected.  Somewhat soft spoken, she's excellent at seeing both sides of a story before making a decision.

Tara is light hearted, laughs a lot and is generally well liked.  She does long for the days of adventuring and finding new and unique keys to add to her necklace though.  She loves talking with adventurers when time permits.

The Mayer of Caer Cyflen! Well... There would be a story all in itself. Manwell Brigandine was the perfect choice for the magnificent city, the perfect mix of brain and brawn. His father, Maxwell Brigandine, was the commander of 6 legions and considered one of the best with sword and shield in his era. His massive frame and strength allowed him to carry massive shields into battle, often covering several soldiers at once.

Josyln Brigandine, his mother, is a brilliant mind of the mages quarter. Shirking her duties as a Mage, she thrived in politics and seemed to have a sense of what people were thinking and would do. Politics lead her to become the advisor of many great people, and she was considered more of an oracle of her time.

Growing up in the Brigandine home was a hard road between the two great people that were his parents. Expected to be a great fighter trained by his father and the great mind passed down by his mother, enormous pressure was always upon him. At a young age, he began to lead his armies into battle. His vast size (Even more prominent than his father) was an intimidating sight to see.

Educated by his mother, his mind was something to bear witness to as well. His military tactics and movements on the battlefield were unmatched by any other military leader. He could predict the actions of others with extreme accuracy, often down to the conversations they would bring up when entering a room. In mental efficiency, he could only be bested by his mother. Soon like his mother, he would advise many great leaders until he was appointed to be Mayer of this great city by the Princess. The greatest man to ever be appointed such a position.

Massive in size and intimidating as he looked, he spoke with a voice that was soothing and pleasant to listen to when he did. He was eclectic and smooth with his speech and never left much to question after. He spoke with authority but not with demanding, so you always seemed to want to do what he was asking of you — no less than a perfect choice for Mayer.

-By Philip Chute

"No doubt you're wondering how your doom will mete itself, my friend. What mistakes led you here? What foul luck left such ignoble ends justified?"

Baldemor gazed with practiced dispassion at the drained goblet in his hand. A criminal lieutenant squirmed on the opposite side of his desk, as city guards glared from the study's exits. Captured to fulfill Baldemor's promise of cleaning up the crime-riddled underground plaguing Caer Cyflen, the lieutenant expected the noose after the summary trials of his underlings witnessed during the week.

But Baldemor Pace had other plans.

Mayor Pace set his goblet aside as he steepled his fingers in careful consideration of the dwarf opposite him. Though the Cataclysm may have stranded humanity alongside alien cultures, Baldemor Pace had mastered the intrigues necessary to claw his way to the top of the city's political elite. A greased palm here, a vicious rumor there, and the odd strategic alliance had slowly positioned the man to the top of the city's predominant political faction. Maintaining the charismatic appeal of ridding Caer Cyflen of its criminal elements, Baldemor Pace ascended to Caer Cyflen's highest political office on a tide of support. His call to the masses was real enough--but Pace was wise to know the established criminal guilds would require dirtied hands to wash wholly away.

A personal touch was required to purge the city Baldemor cared for wholeheartedly. Cold contempt gripped the man as he regarded the shaking dwarf opposite him. Now was the time to steer Caer Cyflen to the shining jewel he knew it to be. Never mind the means towards this end--there would doubtless be those like-minded individuals whom he could persuade to join his cause. Whether coin would be necessary was another matter entirely.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Baldemor stood, striding towards the dwarf. Fear reflected itself in the eyes of the dejected degenerate, as the sentencing of his fate came. A rapacious grin flashed across the Mayor's face as he placed his hand upon the dwarf's shoulder.

"Criminals like yourself are a blight upon this city, scrabbling over our poorest and neediest. Death is the only fair reward for plying such a trade--but here, now, I offer you a choice."

"You can either end your career with the hangman--or begin working for me. The choice, friend, I leave up to you."

-- By Michael Allio

Nero Silanus

Every kid dreams of becoming an adventurer, save a princess from the dragon's lair and receive praise and adoration from the masses. This was no different for Nero, who grew up hearing such tales in a small town with nothing but humans. He joined an adventuring party as soon as he could wield a sword, delving deep underground and venturing into the wilderness in search for treasure and adventure.

Despite all odds, his group managed to stay together for years, conquering every challenge before them even if they risked life and limb to do so, but all it takes is one mistake, one careless night for everything to crumble. Ambushed by orcs, they could not fight back and were beaten within an inch of their lives before the chieftain mocked their weakness. Nero knew he would not see the sunrise, so he mustered every drop of strength left in his body, grabbed an orc's axe and slammed it against the chieftain's head. With a twisted and bloodied grin on his face the chieftain praised his strength and courage, while ordering his goons to finish off the rest of the party, told Nero he had earned his life tonight and left with every bit of treasure they could find.

A wandering group found him that morning, barely breathing and took care of him while he healed on their parent's house in Caer Cyflen. Utterly broken he decided to give up his sword and started to give back to the people that helped him survive, becoming a well known figure in the city and, years later, being voted as mayor. Now he spends his days behind a desk making sure the city runs smoothly, steppping out to help with anything he can, from fixing a cart to calming a dispute between neighbours.

Altough he may seem fine now, whenever he talks with adventurers his old trauma comes to light, obsessing over miniscule details and giving every single piece of advice he can to those venturing out, begging them to not become overconfident and risk his fate. His usually relaxed voice becomes fast and agitated, as he fumbles some words while giving advice, sounding like a worried mother or a wounded soldier depending on the day. 

During the day he often visits the market or influencial figures to gather their thoughts on current issues, keeping their suggestions in mind while triying to appease every faction´s demands. After work he loves to drink at the local tavern, often seen gambling small smounts of coin while drunk while telling travelers and adventurers stories of his adventures and small trivia about the city and its inhabitants, even if he sometimes says more than he should.

Our Mayor Pav Pulum is an animated, mellifluous retired merchant whose family profited before and after the Cataclysm from sound business acumen and a canny sense for sponsoring profitable adventuring campaigns. A long standing interest in stable conditions led them to attempt more than once to get in to local politics, largely with limited success, until Pulum's runaway campaign for the mayorship. Well liked and in touch with the various needs of Cyflren's citizenry, no one faction could find any real reason he shouldn't be put into a role that is largely thankless, so the Mayor he became. Pulum is fond of exotic fare and good wine, and enjoys hosting large celebratory festivals, the better to keep the populace content and to share his good fortune. His is a firm believer in a "rising tide raises all ships", and considers the Caer and its denizens his extended family. Most who speak with him find his cheery optimism infectious, though it belies a shrew intellect and a clear-eyed view of the world, and its many dangers.

(Race and gender can be any).

Kiaradth Bright-spark, an elven female of local renown, before the mayorship was rather forced upon her. She is convinced that they will find a real mayor soon, that her temporary service is nearing its end; she’s had these hopes year after year.

In her youth, Kiaradth excelled in practically everything she put her mind to, or rather her hands to, for she is a do-er, not a thinker. Woodwork was her first, and continuing passion, as it was taught to her by her mother and father, who were carpenters themselves. She speaks plainly to strangers, commandingly to her subordinates, but softly to her friends, those who bring her stories. Strong, stubborn, and a minor perfectionist, as a child she passed classes, aced those she liked, and had the whole scope of life before her to explore.

She initially spent some time in the garrisons of Caer Cyflen, and would eagerly await the arrivals of each Imperial Squadron, for they brought with them great tales of adventure. Her dream was to chase those adventures, and bring great fame to the city, and to herself. A dream she still retains to this day, although, as each day passes, she labels it increasing unlikely.

During her years in the garrison, she stumbled up the ranks, often filling in the position of her higher up’s, before being given that place permanently. The high turnover of garrison hierarchy, was caused by the difficultly of the ‘old guard,’ to successfully maintain the true principles of ‘Equality for All’. Over time, corruption seem to seep into the lives of the leaders, the scandal would be publicised, and the leader would consequently, step down, (or worse in some cases.)

It was not until she was offered the position of Mayor, that she realised, just how high she had risen, how much she had accomplished, how much of her life had passed without the adventures she had dreamt of. She initially accepted the post, as an interim position until they found someone more suitable. She suggested looking outside of the garrisons, the clerks, the owners, and more to those who truly represented equality, those whose loyalties were solely to the benefit of Caer Cyflen.

Years of searching, has yielded no-one. In fact, she would still insist that she is not the Mayor, but still just holding the position until they find someone to ‘really’ take over. By no means though, has she neglected her post. The city has become well respected as a bastion of the ‘intent of the law’ rather than law itself. A place where contextual justice, overrides fine-print, and legal deception. This is not without cost. Kiaradth walks the tightrope of balancing the ‘working classes’ and ‘ruling classes’, both attempting to morph true equality to their advantage. Unfortunately there is no other who can walk that line. 

Kiaradth is mayor in all but name, still dreaming of adventures, and still finding time for stories from any who come before her counsel.  

Meet: Gregory "BIG GREG" Barlow

Carpenter apprentice turned adventurer turned civil servant, Greg won the hearts of the people through various escapades such as fighting bandits, goblins, and saving travelers on the road. With adventuring starting to lose its thrill, he decided to see if he could use this support and adoration to take a shot a taking the then empty mayors seat, securing a narrow victory in a tense election.

Decades later Greg knows this to be a GIGANTIC MISTAKE. Years of bureaucratic red tape, office politics, and long meetings over budget expenses have taken their toll on his sanity, and Greg wakes up each day hoping that day is the day he can step down. Problem being that he refuses to step down until he knows whoever will replace him wont be a clown or a fool, and as each election comes around the only people who bother to run are those who clearly seek to use the office to line their own pockets with the city's coffers and staff the departments with yes-men, so he's run each time and his still popular reputation and successful administration have allowed him to keep the self serving out of office.

BIG GREG FACTS

In his youth Greg was a bear of a man and even though the passage of time and the soft position he has has worn away some of his strength, he is still often easily the largest presence in the room. Though (usually) soft spoken in his older years he can still shout down the impatient and arrogant, if needed.

His favorite hobby that he can still indulge in as mayor is wood working and carving, and actually made the chair he has to sit in all day every day.

Greg is old but not OLD old. I assume mayor info fact #3 is because at some point in the game the mayor is expected to fight, Greg can still throw down so this isn't a problem.

When he was an adventurer, he was a fighter using an axe and shield that he still owns.

A typical day for Greg is: wake up, realize he has to go to work, gets mad, goes to work, MEETINGS MEETINGS MEETINGS MEETINGS MEETINGS lunch MEETINGS MEETINGS MEETINGS MEETINGS, go home, maybe get some reading or wood work in, dinner, plan out next day, bed.

Ironically, one of the few parts of his job Greg enjoys is running for re-election, he gets to actually talk to the people he's supposed to represent instead of stuck up nobles and merchants, enjoying the occasional free drink or friendly arm wrestling competition.

Greg knows exactly how greedy and conniving adventurers are as he used to be one, and treats them accordingly, even if they can prove to be useful. 

Greg only goes by Greg with his friends, co-workers don't qualify, except his secretary, shes okay.

His speech is straight forward, and not particularly accented, he spent long enough away from his poorer, more humble beginnings that he doesn't have the accent anymore, but he's not ashamed of where he came from.

Greg has arms, I'm just really bad at drawing.

TL;DR: Greg is a big, straight forward, practical man who's been mayor for a LONG TIME and would REALLY  like to not be mayor anymore but he's not stepping down until someone who isn't a greedy idiot steps up.

Alan Rowswan is a human, around 5'8, lighty muscled, with a well kept beard and short but practical hair, Alan never dresses fancy, he always dresses how he want to depending on the situation but there is always one thing that can be relied on to see which is his smile, no matter how hard time becomes he will be there with a heartly smile, a small chuckle and unbreakable confidence. Born from a family of weathly merchants, Alan was raised in the courts of nobles and royaly alike and was taught how to act the part. Alan however never saw eye to eye with most of the court, prefering simple methods to deal with simple problems while others would try to take advantage of the situation for there own gain, he would simply resolve it in the most straightforward and honest way possible.

Early in life he prefer to lead by example for his family's trade, which was suppling and escorting of caravans to remote locations of importance such as military outposts, constuction sites and other valuable locations. Numerous times the caravans were attacked, by bandits, monsters or others noble wishing them to fail, each time Alan would prove himself, doning his armour, drawing his single longsword and holding of the threats alongside his men. The soldiers and merchants alike came to respect him for is unwaving support as he saved them numerous times from death, giving them finalnical assistence or simply advice. 

After many years of work, disaster finally reared its ugly head, during one job, Alan and his men were tasked with escorting a quite hated and arrogant noblemen who was fleeing the city from a large collection of debt collecters and only similar people. He never told this to Alan but around halfway across teh route they were viciously attacked by a unsally large group of "bandits" who were also far more equipped then normal. Alan realising the situation lead a desprate escape attempt through the enemies ranks, this succeded just with around 80% of there forces seriously injured or dying, the enmey only losing a few and the strangly the wounded on there side had recoved from there wounds. 

Alan prepared to make there stand only for the noblemen to run away with his few bodyguard left, leaving Alan and his few remaining soldiers alone to hold them off. No one knows exaclty what happened then, but all who came back was a relatively undamaged Alan and the promised amount of pay from the cowardly noblemen,in a battered and bloody chest. Alan then was reported to walk the streets late at night, some say to protect those who need it why others say to fine the collecters and deal with them. After a couple years he thought he could no longer simply pursue them himself, the last mayor had recently passed on and the looking for a new one.

Alan, being a well respected warrior and organiser decied to fill the role, a role he was quick to recieve and adapt to. He still seeks to find the criminals and nobles responsable for his men's deaths, but until the time comes when his finds them, he will simply continue on his role, to handle matters fairly and simple. He been mayor for 8 years of his life, now in his early 40s, he is widely known throughtout the kingdom for his ability to not complicate things and a keep a clear and calm mind no matter the situation. He still however seeks the invisible controllers hiding in the city, seeking to bring them to justcie for there crimes and end there corruption.

Jen Blackbank would be a somewhat...underwhelming introduction to the city. Appearing in all ways a simple, friendly halfling, she does little to dissuade this view. Having been around the lands as a travelling merchant, she always seemed to turn up to the areas that need her most, whether for food due to a mouse ridden pantry or burnt field, to weapons for defense against recent raids that her previous stop warned of. People always seemed to be in need of what she peddled, whether they knew it at the time or regretted not partaking in her goods down the line. Always appearing with a amicable face and glint in her eye, she has been thought by many to have some mystic foresight of the troubles of the lands and did her best to mitigate them. Others believed she was older than her appearance would have one think and could tell from experience what is needed. A few poor souls would accuse her of being the perpetrator of these misfortunes in order to reap the benefits, though they never could get others to believe them.

Despite these, as she adamantly insisted, unfounded rumors, she always kept her prices generous, for while she may be a merchant, money was far from her only goal. Money could only take one so far in life if she couldn't live long enough to spend it or had no one willing to sell to her after all! Trust and goodwill, deserved or not, opened many doors that money could not. Eventually she opened a more permanent shop in Caer Cyflen, bringing her special brand of marketing there whether they knew they needed it or not. The people grew so reliant and familiar with her that she seemed the perfect choice for mayor when the time came, especially when her only competitor was found half naked and drunk, running through the streets. And she was nothing if not a people pleaser after all, so who would she be to turn it down?

People know very little of her life aside from tales of her travels that she would tell anyone who asked, seeming to never tell the same tale twice. Always travelling with a small band of adventurers during her trips, she grew appreciative of what could be accomplished with a small, deniable force that were willing to accomplish tasks that could be a little...unsavory. Never anything to bad, of course, but how could she aid her people without quietly removing issues before they surfaced?

Lirae Trelas
Half-Elf

"So you need me to tell you something of myself? Is that how these interviews for the public interest are done these days? Oh, you'd prefer I start with my past is it? Well yes I have a past of course, anyone who's been around Caer Cyflen knows of the Trelas family. We're a long established noble house of course. Oh, the controversy about my mother you mean. Well yes it is rather difficult to hide my mother's elven nature, so our family has never tried. A marriage of both convenience and alliance between the noble house of Trelas and the well placed elven merchant guild Leaflandir.

Yes, I was the intended result of that marriage of course. My father somewhat regretted a daughter instead of a son, but I'm well able to serve as the heir of the Trelas line. Was it a loveless marriage you ask? I know that I had the love of both my father and my mother so I don't think anything else matters at this point. Hmm, you are now asking about my more recent past? How to put it, yes, I've deliberately chosen to be single up to this point. I don't know that prying any more on this issue is in the public interest. Will I produce an heir for the Trelas family line? How does that reflect upon my current duties as Mayor may I ask? It seems a bit less relevant to the public interest, and more a salacious bit of gossip. No, you'd better strike that question all together. Did my mother's family buy noble influence in order to gain a better position in Caer Cyflen's mercantile circles? That's a rather rude way of suggesting that the noble lords of Caer Cyflen could be bought for mere money. Are you certain you've come here at the insistence of the Princess? The royal scribe's assistant you say. Hmm, then the official answer is that I was put into the position of the Mayor of Caer Cyflen based on my long service to the city and my deep understanding of civic matters of concern to the populace.

How do I handle day to day affairs in Caer Cyflen? Why through a thorough investigation of issues and problems of course. Rushing into something without adequate information can be disastrous. Yes, it can be bad to delay too much as well. Most mornings I meet with the finance committee, then the city defense is frequently a topic of discussion. The individual commanders handle the patrols and watch shifts of course, but area's of focus are directed by me. Well of course the citizens who pay more taxes receive more civic protection. That's just obvious. If they weren't protected it would be hard to expect them to keep paying at the current levels.

How do I feel about adventurers? Well certainly some people think they are dangerous, but when it comes to taking care of dangerous monsters, do you want a bunch of maids or grocers taking on the task? Adventurers are on the whole useful for a community this size. They don't require continuous salaries, and they work and are paid by individual task. It's much easier not to have to worry about paying them if they're idling around. Yes, private parties are permitted to hire them as well. As long as they don't become violent and harm citizens in the city they aren't too much trouble at all. They end up supporting a number of businesses in this town with their reward earnings after all. Well, I've got a merchant's association meeting in a little while, and I'd like to take my afternoon tea before with my undersecretary. No, it's just a private meeting. No need for the assistant royal scribe to attend. Well yes my undersecretary is considered by many to be a handsome available man, but I don't know what relevance that has. I assure you our relationship is strictly a professional one. Yes. Thank you again for your time and effort. You can schedule with my assistant if you need any further information for my profile. Farewell."

"Hans. Have the person who just left tailed by a shadow. I'm beginning to question whether they were truly here on behalf of the princess. Yes, the tea is quite good Hans, and so are the biscuits."

Quintin Brickmaker- Half Elf

Quintin was born an illegitimate son of an elven noble baroness, and a human commoner. His father raised him, never telling Quintin whom his mother was. Quintin learned to be a hard laborer since he was old enough to help in his father’s work on construction of the large buildings and noble homes of Caer Cyflen. One unfortunate day, when Quintin was in his early twenties, Quintin’s father was killed in an accident during some routine maintenance of his mother’s noble estate; Quintin was right there, and his father passed in his arms. The rumors of his father’s death being intentional grew immediately, but Quintin did not care. Quintin’s uselessness during his father’s passing ignited a flame in him; he would never be useless again. From that time forward, Quintin devoted his time and efforts into honing skills in medicine and magical remedy creation.

Quintin found himself very talented in field medicine & first aid. He lent this talent at the fringes of the Badlands for years; providing a haven for adventurers seeking to brave the dangers of the area. Even so, while he enjoyed his work on the frontier, his heart was always with Caer Cyflen. He would often ask those coming from that direction of Caer Cyflen and how the city was fairing. While he recognized that his work was important to adventurers, Quintin ultimately returned to his home city after a decade of excellent work and making a name for himself.

Shortly after his return, he received a sealed message from none other than the baron and baroness of the estate of his father’s accident, asking him to come to a formal gala. Assuming the Baron wished to welcome the well-known apothecary’s return, Quintin attended begrudgingly; always finding formality and bureaucracy to be silly and a waste of time. Much to Quintin’s surprise, the Baron & Baroness announced him as the baroness’ illegitimate child, and that due to an urgency for the role to be filled, has been named the Mayor of Caer Cyflen.

According to the Baron, the previous mayor unexpectedly passed away just the week prior to Quintin’s return. The baron had been keeping tabs on Quintin, and due to Quintin’s ties to the city while also having fresh perspective, there was no better person to name for the role. This conversation happened a little more than a year ago, and while Quintin had no real interest in being mayor prior, he has grown into the role rather well. Quintin does not trust the Baron & Baroness at all due to the suspicious incidents involving his father and the previous Mayor. He also firmly believes that they had planned to make him a figure head while they did as they please with Caer Cyflen, but Quintin has done everything possible to keep that from happening.

Quintin’s everyday life now consists of meetings and bureaucratic malarkey that Quintin has little patience for. The only thing that gets him through the dull responsibilities is the knowledge that someone that is not in the barony has to do it. While not in those awful meetings, Quintin can be found roaming the city, checking on the maintenance of the buildings, and offering aid where ever he can assist. The city dwellers will tell you that the Mayor often can be seen scoffing openly at formality and etiquette. Caer Cyflen is his heart and home, and he will do whatever he can to help keep it the wonderful city that it is.

Tomislav Milanovic

“The Council will now proceed to vote the motion of no confidence submitted by Lord Fairbrandt” a clerk cried out.

The 10 persons sitting at the Council table rose up from their seats. At the other side of the table Lord Fairbrandt remained silent, his vote already been counted since he has been the one that presented the motion like he regularly does every few months.

“Aye” Lord Sylren said dismissively. A slender High Elf who viewed even non-Elf nobles with contempt.                                                    

“Aye” Lady Runeshield said with a raspy voice, the old matriarch face did not show a flicker of emotion

“Aye, it is high time we got rid of him” Lord Sherington said with a charismatic smile on his face and a wave of his hand which exposed his expensive rings.

“Nay, Mayor Milanovic is a pious man” said the Archbishop.

“The Craftsman’s Guild votes Nay, the mayor has done much for all craftsman’s” said Osila Goldstone an expert jeweler and guildmaster.

“The Town Watch votes nay, the mayor has maintained peace and order in Caer Cyflen” Said Captain Steelscribe. Mayor Milanovic thanked the gods for being blessed with a Watch Captain not controlled by the nobles.

“For the 14^th time, the Historians Guild votes Nay” said Flardryn Miraberos. Tomislav could always count in his old mentor to back him up.

Lysanthir Ersalor, the guildmaster of the Consortium, turned to face Tomislav and took a moment to grin at him and simply said “Nay”.

“Nay, of course” said Tomislav Milanovic, he was not going to vote against himself. 6 Nays vs 4 Ayes, he did not even need to use his casting vote this time; It seems the Consortium resumed their mind games with him.

“The motion is dismissed, as always. Thank you for your time sires, see you again next week. Long live Princess Silverflower”

“Long live Princess Silverflower” answered the council.

Lord Fairbrandt stopped to glare at Tomislav and uttered “Common-born” before storming out of the council room like he usually does.

While Father was alive nobody called him Common-born, few dared to insult the Hero of Masgarath or the Orcsbane as the common people liked to call him. He was made a small noble after defeating the Orcs Warchief in combat ending the Orcs Raid and driving them back to the Badlands. For this great service to his nation the late Prince of Masgarath made him a noble and granted him a small state. Tomislav was born during the Raids while father was away and as such, they were both common-born. The great nobles liked to point this out all the time before Tomislav won his election. Now only Fairbrandt is insolent enough to say it to his face, but the it is common knowledge the nobles still like to refer him as such when he is not there to hear it.

Since he was a small child Father sent him to study under his long-life friend, the Loremaster Flardryn Miraberos. Father worked with him many times during their younger days doing expeditions to the badlands in search for lost knowledge and artifacts and this convenient relationship quickly evolved into a friendship. Almost everything Tomislav knows was taught to him by Flardryn: letters, history, philosophy, mathematics and more. This great education combined with the rejections of “trueborn” nobles made him escape the decadence that plagued most of the nobles.

Someone needed control them and stop their depredations on the common people, Tomislav did everything in his power be a fair and just mayor but there was not much he could do against all the institutions and rules the nobles created over the centuries while they ruled Caer Cyflen unchecked. A simple majority in the City Council sufficed for most things which Tomislav had. The Craftsman’s Guild had always been abused by the nobles that were their main source of high paying jobs and were grateful to find a shield under Tomislav. Captain Steelscribe was tired of the nobles interfering in Watch business all the time and young nobles, being extra immature, cause problems constantly. His mentor would support him in almost everything and half of the motions proposed by Tomislav were being suggested by him anyway, the Elf was very wise and ancient no wonder he was the head of the Historians; he might as well be history himself. The Church also disapproved of the nobles decadence and are easy to compel with a few measures and rights every now and then, the fact that Tomislav reinstated their tax exemption status lost a 100 years ago by the nobles also helped. With his own vote this brought him up to 5 votes and his casting vote assured him a victory for almost everything.

The real changes Tomislav wanted to make required a qualified majority, seven votes. With just two more votes Tomislav could institute a jury system, he could change sitting judges (almost all of them nobles), reform the electoral system and remove many of the privileges the nobles have. Just two more votes and Fairbrandt will be shaking in his boots.

-----------------

During the night Tomislav was back at his office and decided to catch up with the ever-ending pile of paperwork he needed to do while he waited for the representative of the Consortium to arrive. After a while he heard someone knock at his door, his secretary surely.

“Mister Milanovic, the representative of the Consortium is ready to meet with you” said Shaerra Elayra, the eternal elven secretary of Caer Cyflen. She was so familiarized with every aspect of the Mayors office that no mayor for the last two centuries ever dared to replace her for fear of losing access to her bureaucratic wizardry.

Tomislav looked around his antechamber and found it empty except for Shaerra, a clear indication that this was going to be one of those meetings with the Consortium.

“I am going to take a small break before my meeting with mister Miraberos, send anyone else away please”

“Of course, Mister Milanovic” Said Shaerra before closing the doors to his office.

Tomislav knew what to do. He went to one of the in the office, opened it and went back to his desk.

“Please come in”

A moment later a cloaked figure entered room using the open window and sat in one of the visitor’s chairs, revealing a young elf in dark clothing and a confident demeanor.

“Mister Ersalor and the Consortium would like to extend our sincere gratitude to our Mayor for having granted us this meeting at this hour and in such a short notice”

“You are welcome mister…?”

“Blake” An obviously fake name, given that Blake is a human name and the person sitting next to him was clearly an Elf.

“Right. I am always happy to help any of the Guilds Mister Blake”

“We appreciate that, truly Mister Milanovic. The Consortium has found himself in possession of a very expensive item and would like request your help in setting up a meeting with the Rubypike Clan of Snow Alliance as soon as possible”

The Rubypike clan was one of the few unscrupulous clans in the Snow Alliance or as unscrupulous as one of those clans gets, they don’t ask too many questions which is exactly why they are loved by the Consortium. Still they have no official reason to meet with someone of the Consortium so far away which is why they need to be provided one where they will arrange some phony trade between themselves to justify a sudden change of gold between the parts.

“Surely this has nothing to do with the emerald bracelet Lord Sherington claims was stolen from his vault, it was an antique predating the Cataclysm that belonged to his late grandmother and he always said he would pass it along to his daughter when she came of age”

“We are very sorry for Lord Sherington loss, but the Consortium has no idea who could have done such a terrible thing” Not that Tomislav cared about Lord Sherington and his thousand gems, he wondered how he even noticed one of them missing in that vault of his.

The Consortium is just a front organization for the thief’s guild and other shady businessman’s, one very smart mayor ages ago proposed to them the creation of the Consortium to them to launder their money and getting a cut to look the other way, this also had the effect of them being more exposed. They had to cut back their more radical stunts if they wanted to enjoy their now clean wealth. In order to survive they bribed regularly and liberally to everyone they needed to bribe, and they have certain uses when the Principality needs discreet operators, even some Princes were known to pay for their ‘consulting’.

“The Craftsman’s Guild will be meeting with some clans of the Snow Alliance very soon to discuss trade, I will make sure to invite the Rubypike clan to said meeting and proposed that it takes place in the Snow Alliance territory, away from prying eyes”

“Excellent, surely an observer from the Consortium will be invited to said meeting, seeing that they conduct many deals with the Craftsmen’s and the clans” Sometimes not even Tomislav treasurer could detect exactly where the Consortium made their shady deals and what transaction was faked and which one real.

“Of course, mister Blake. I take it I can count on the Consortium support for the upcoming resolutions I will be presenting”

“As long as they do not go against the Consortium interests you may have our support mister Milanovic” said ‘Blake’ with a smile.

Just one more vote was all Tomislav needed now.

Then there was a knock at his door, and he could hear Shaerra saying “Mister Milanovic, mister Miraberos has arrived”

Tomislav walked to the door to receive his mentor and ushered him quickly inside to hug him, there was now no sign of ‘Blake’, all the windows were closed, and he had not heard a thing, one of these days he will figure out how they do it.

“Tommy! good to see you, I hope the meeting with the consortium went well” The Elf have called him Tommy since he was a baby and will probably continue to do it while he dies of old age.

“As good as it could have been”

“Great, now we just need one more vote”

“I swear that old Runeshield must be doing some black magic to keep herself alive, I know that dwarfs are sturdy, but that old hag is ancient by their standards. Eivar Runeshield is a far more reasonable noble than her or at least as reasonable as nobles get”

“I am sorry Tommy, that amulet the Matriarch wears is an amulet of health she bought in one of our auctions after an expedition, that is probably going to buy her at least 10 years of life” Tomislav was dumbfounded, he could not believe he now had to put up with her for ten more years.

“Why did you even let her buy that amulet then?”

“What was I supposed to say? ‘I am sorry Lady Runeshield, I would prefer if you died sooner’? The auction was public, and she had the gold; even I was impressed. But do not despair my student I may have a trick up my sleeve yet. While checking my guilds old files I stumbled upon correspondence of Lord Sylren of the imperial times to one of his historian friends. If you remember my lectures you will remember that the current Lord Sylren descends from the second cousin of the main branch of Sylrens that was lost during the Cataclysm, one of the few noble houses that survived it”

“Yes, I remember. Now does this letter have some dirty secret to black mail Sylren with?”

“Even better. The letter was penned by a personal friend of Sylern that was asking him about the name, description and mother of his newborn son, he was writing a book about his family and he wanted an up to date genealogy. But conventional history says he had no son and he never married that is why his line ended. It seemed like child was born out of wedlock and in secret that is why he does not appear on the records. Not many generations of Elfs have passed since then, the city orphanages maintain clear records of the Elf orphans after the cataclysm, he might have been registered under her mother’s name, nobody would have believed her without Lord Sylern”

Just one more vote was all he needed, just one more.

“Are you telling me that the righteous Lord Sylern now is probably out there tilting some fields or chopping some wood? The Sylerns will have the fits, they will never accept it quietly”

“Now now, one problem at a time. We just need to recover those records and replace Lord Sylern, he might hate the nobles as much as you do”

“Now where did this magic letter come from?” with his luck it will in the worst place possible.

“In a ruined castle, deep in the badlands. Our records show that it has not been explored yet”

“Wonderful, we just might have to kill Remorhaz nest to get it. No group is crazy enough to go that deep into the badlands”

“Now I may have heard about a group mad enough of try…”

Tomislav walked quickly to his door and opened

"Shaerra, cancel all my morning meetings please. I will be busy"

Just one more vote