Riches to Rags, Rags to Vengeance

[Diachronos]

The city of Kalimdor lies in a wide valley beside the ocean known as the Cobalt Expanse. Part of the city, namely its Prism District, is built beside and into the cliff face of the valley. Numerous waterfalls cascade down from the cliff above to feed a river of clear, pristine water that flows through the rest of the city into the ocean; the mists thrown up by the falling water are the source of Kalimdor's other name, "The City in the Mists." The city is among the largest on the continent of Opeon, as well as its largest port and the major trading hub between Opeon and the lands across the sea.

The Prism District is the uppermost level of the city, where the aristocracy make their homes. This portion of the city boasts large, opulent manors and numerous parks and gardens, as befitting of those of noble birth. By day, sunlight passes through the mists from the waterfalls and paints the normally plain marble and granite of the architecture with a myriad of colors, and even on the hottest summer day the temperature remains pleasantly cool.

Below this is the Merchant's District, where the vast majority of the stores and stalls can be found and where most tradesmen practice their crafts. A plethora of smells and sounds can be heard at all times in this district, from the clanging of metal and smell of burning charcoal from the smithies to the sweet aroma of baking and merchants hawking their wares. The Merchant's District is also where the main gate of the city lies, leading to the White Road that branches off to the other cities of Opeon.

The rest of the city is the Lower Quarter, where the docks and "common" folk can be found. The Lower Quarter possesses a considerably smaller police force than the rest of the city, which leads to frequent criminal activity. The poor living conditions and wages of the citizens of this region do not help matters, and over the years many less-reputable establishments have cropped up as a way to distract them from their everyday worries.

The Prism District is separated from the Merchant's District by twelve arcane devices dubbed "Illumacones" by their creators in the Academy of Mages; these arcane elevators are guarded day and night by heavy patrols, and only those who live in or have official business in the Prism District are permitted to enter. Those who do not are turned away by force if necessary, and frequently when it is not. The aristocracy rarely leave the comfort of the Prism District except when they travel, leaving any business in town to their servants. They have no qualms with this, as they have the same disdain for the lower classes that the nobles of most cities do. The feeling is mutual, as many among the lower class believe that the land-owning nobles leave the unpleasant and strenuous work to the commoners, only to reap the benefits for themselves while forcing the workers to get by on whatever scraps are left.
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A light knock sounds on the door, followed by the timid voice of one of the manor's many servants. "Lord Gabriel, your father wishes for me to remind you that your presence is required at the Academy of Mages in two hours. The coronation of the next Archmage of Enchantment is an important event that the Scorn house can not miss."

[NeoSeraphi]

Gabriel Scorn sits at his desk with a screwdriver in one hand and a strange device that resembles a wristwatch in the other. A magnescope is attached to his right eye as he looks down at the last loose plate and carefully selects a spot to place the final screw.

A knock at the door disturbs the noble and causes him to nearly drop his invention. "Thank you, Clarisse!" he calls, yanking open a drawer in the desk, pushing the device, the schematics for it and the tools on the desk into the drawer with one wide scoop, and closing and locking the drawer.

The Archmage of Enchantment? Definitely someone he didn't want to piss off. Enchantment magic is very powerful in Kalimdor. One incantation can destroy a person's loyalties that a family spends years building up, or reveal the deepest secrets locked behind thousands of gold worth of hush money.

Gabriel quickly starts to yank his shirt over his head, only to have it get caught on the magnescope he was still wearing. Growling in annoyance, the man pulls at the straps and leaves the magnescope on the desk, in too much of a hurry to fiddle with the lock again.

He strips down and selects a fine crimson shirt, his hands flying up the buttons and finishing in an instant. To complement it, a pair of navy slacks. Finally, a black blazer, and the sleeves of the shirt tied around his wrist with emerald cuff links.

Gabriel checks himself in the mirror. Astounding. The noble had turned his share of heads at the university, and he preferred to be aware of his resources over being modest. Gabriel is rather good-looking, and the vibrant colors of his wardrobe suit him.

He affixes a rapier in a sheath to his belt. The rapier is common, but no one would know that just by looking. Gabriel still needed to find the woman who attacked him last week before he could retrieve his prized magic rapier from her.

His left flank, usually reserved for the holster of his dueling pistol, stays bare. Swords are a sign of class. Guns are a sign of violence. Gabriel would not attend this coronation with any more weapons than he needed.

To finish the outfit, a tie bearing the Scorn coat-of-arms. He runs one hand through his hair and heads out the door, rushing to the Academy of Mages with thirty minutes to spare.

[Diachronos]

Gabriel arrives at the Academy and easily finds his father, Senator William Scorn, standing near the building entrance. The older man was staring down at his gold-and-ivory pocketwatch, his brow furrowed below his slightly graying hair and his face set in the stern no-nonsense expression that he usually wore at official events and while doing business. William was a kind and patient man to those who knew him, and he was a rather enjoyable companion (if a bit stiff and old-fashioned) when he wasn't on the job, but he could rival the demeanor of all but the most strict of instructors at the Academy when the situation called for it.

He looks up as Gabriel approaches, closing his watch with an audible snap before tucking it neatly into the chest pocket of his gold-trimmed blue vest. "Must you always press your luck with your timing, Gabriel? You know that the Senators are required to arrive early at these events." The look he gave his son was one that might appear scathing to others, but Gabriel would be able to easily make out the faint hints of a smile behind the gaze. He was a strict father in public, but only because his career required him to maintain that mask in public.

[NeoSeraphi]

Gabriel stops in front of the man and bows his head. "Please forgive me, Lord Senator," he says. Gabriel uses his father's full title at special events, because not even William's son should detract from the man's authority at this time.

"I lost track of time on my latest project. If I'm correct, I think I will be able to harness the energy of time magic to extend the time limits constrained on men from every source! Holding your breath underwater, surviving without food, never needing to sleep or relieve yourself. My professor anticipates such a breakthrough would revolutionize the way we explore the northern areas."

It wasn't a blatant lie. Gabriel had finished his ring of absolute sustenance two weeks ago, that was all. His father didn't need to know about the small device in his desk. No one needed to know.

"I have been so wrapped up in my Evocation studies, I haven't even heard who the new Archmage is. Can you give me the short version, my Lord?"

[Diachronos]

William nods. "A young woman by the name of Rachel Denethar. The Academy and Senate have been buzzing with gossip about her; apparently she is one of the youngest witches ever appointed to the position of Archmage, at only 25 years of age. It would be a more momentous and happy occasion if she weren't a changeling." His expression turned to one of disgust at the last word. Among the aristocracy of Opeon, half-breeds such as changelings and the plane-touched are seen as impure and a stain upon their family lineage, to the point that interracial marriages are never arranged. A noble with, say, a half-elf child would go to great lengths to hide the fact that they are the parent, as such knowledge becoming public would deal a crippling blow to their reputation that few families could ever hope to recover from. For such an individual to be granted the title of Archmage, she would have to either be leagues above her peers or (as the gossip overheard from several couples passing by) trading favors for the position.

[NeoSeraphi]

Gabriel raises an eyebrow. "You don't say? How odd. She's obviously a powerful witch. Why wouldn't she simply conceal her true nature with magic?" Still, for her to be an Archmage...well, it made sense now why he hadn't met her before. With a heritage like that, in this town, she likely kept to herself.

The young noble nods to himself and bows. "Excuse me, Lord Senator. I need to go and make an appearance before the ceremony starts, otherwise everyone will forget I was there!" He chuckles good-naturedly and steps past his father, heading into the Academy.

[Diachronos]

The Academy is even busier inside than normal, with several influential members of the Prism District mingling with their peers and the instructors of the institurion. There aren't as many students as normal, seeing as many of the day's classes had been canceled for the coronation ceremony.

He finds himself distracted from the crowd by an arm going around his neck and someone leaning on him. A familiar masculine voice pipes up behind his ear. "I didn't even need to make myself invisible that time. You're getting sloppy, Gabe!" A glance back reveals the grinning face of Darven Duskwind, one of his friends and a practitioner of illusion magic.

[NeoSeraphi]

Gabriel chuckles in surprise. "Come now. Don't make me hex you in front of everyone Darven."

He slips out from under the other man's arms and adjusts his tie. "That doesn't count either," he adds, referring to their ongoing bet about cat and mouse. "I'm busy looking for this...Denethar person. Have you had any classes with her? She's about our age."

[Diachronos]

Darven's face paled a little at the mention of who Gabriel was looking for. "Yes, unfortunately. That girl freaks me the hell out. You hear about heterochromatic people and think it's an interesting trait, but her one eye is purple. Like, bright and glowing "Hallow's End hexing hour" purple. And I found out that she wears those gloves all the time because she has claws. Claws, Gabe! I swear, she's only explanation for why she's still here is that she's bewitching the headmasters into liking her!"

[NeoSeraphi]

Gabriel raises an eyebrow. "Relax. In case you forgot, we have elven students here as well." He gestures to his friend's outward appearance emphatically. "The fey are a strange people, but that doesn't make them dangerous. Though of course...some of them are." He rubs the back of his neck and remembers where the drow woman stabbed him.

"Anyway, you better not let her hear you, aye? The Archmage of Enchantment. That not only means she's tough, it means she's marriageable. Our parents may not like half-breeds, but they definitely like influence more, and she has a lot to go around now. If you're not careful, you could end up as Mr. Denethar." He winks at Darven and gives him a gentle ribbing.

"Okay. Purple eye and gloves. Shouldn't be hard to spot," Gabriel comments, turning his attention away from his friend and looking around. He wanted to introduce himself to her before the show started. That would leave the biggest impression on her.

[Diachronos]

"There's a big difference between someone who's got fey blood in their distant ancestry and someone who's half-hag."

Gabriel doesn't have any luck with locating the new Archmage at first. The crowd is a mix of the races he is used to among the high-ranking families - humans, elves, halflings, gnomes, and a handful of dwarves - as well as the numerous half-breeds making up the rest of the Academy's students. Most half-breeds who showed signs of magical talent are forced into enrolling at the Academy. The "official" explanation for this is that it was to mold them into productive and valued members of society, but the Senators and Archmages know the real reason: to keep them contained and in line through a combination of classes, schoolwork, and the menial tasks they were given to "pay for their tuition", in order to prevent them from working against the ruling class of Kalimdor and usurping their betters.

As Gabriel is passing one of the courtyards, he finds a visibly distraught half-orc man leafing through a book and a short, pale-skinned woman with raven-black hair trying to soothe him in a calming, almost musical tone. "Don't get so worked up, Kresh. You know all this material, and you know that you know it all. Professor Whiteforge made those remarks about your performance because he still doesn't recognize how talented you are. That stubborn dwarf doesn't see you for who you are, though, and in the end his opinion of you doesn't change the fact that you are among the top of your class."

The half-orc nods, taking a few deep breaths. "Y-you're right. I can do this. I'm not going to fail this exam, no matter what he says." He manages a smile. "Thanks, Rachel." A moment later his eyes widen and he nearly trips over himself as he bows. "I-I mean, thank you, Archmage Denethar!"

The woman laughs and shakes her head. "It's not official yet, Kresh, 'Rachel' is fine. And it will be after the coronation. I'm not going to start treating you or anyone else at the Academy differently just because I'm an Archmage."

[NeoSeraphi]

Gabriel waits until the pair of them have had their conversation, and then he steps forward. "Pardon me. I'm so sorry to interrupt. Miss Denethar, if I could have a moment of your time?"

Even if she was of noble blood, it was highly unlikely that she had kept the title of 'Lady' as a half-breed, so 'Miss' was likely the appropriate level of respect. Gabriel is certain to include a smile though, to let her know that he's not being condescending.

[Diachronos]

The woman looks up, giving him a pleasant smile. Her hair style stood out now that he'd gotten a look at her; her bangs were pushed over her left eye, hiding it from view and leaving only her crystal-blue right eye visible. "Hello. How may I help you, sir?" She spoke in a practiced way, as if she was used to addressing nobles like this. She likely had to, given what she was.

[NeoSeraphi]

Gabriel shakes his head. "Please. Speak as you normally would. The Academy is not a place where one's birth determines one's station. You have earned your title with skill, hard work, and practice. The fact that you are the better wizard is the only thing that matters to our conversation." He bows politely.

"Oh. I'm sorry. Where are my manners? My name is Gabriel Scorn. I'm a senior in the Arcane Theory department. Because I spend so much time reading about magic instead of practicing it, I'm quite lackluster when it comes to actually casting spells." He chuckles. "I just wanted to congratulate you. Most wizards our age are barely mastering the basics of invisibility, but you have already surpassed even our teachers. I can't imagine how much work that must have taken you."

Spoiler: Diplomacy

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Starting attitude/Potential swoon inducing: (1d20+11)[13]
Edit: That's bad, but not so bad. Assuming her Cha is 17 or lower, if her starting attitude is Friendly, it's now Helpful.

Spoiler: OOC

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Didn't want to triple post in the OOC. Because of the Arcane Theory part that we added, Gabriel needs to have ranks in Spellcraft. So I moved a skill rank from Stealth to Spellcraft. Since I haven't made any actual skill checks this game, I assume that's still okay.

[Diachronos]

A faint blush colors the woman's cheeks, and she covers her face with her hands with a tiny giggle. "Please, you don't need to be so polite. I just did what came naturally to me, that's all." She parted her fingers over her left eye, and the vibrant purple eye that Darven had mentioned stared up at him. "But thank you regardless. It's not very often that someone like you praises or compliments me."

Spoiler: OOC

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Yes, that's fine.

[NeoSeraphi]

Gabriel shakes his head. "Please, don't say 'someone like me'. I don't like the fact that the Academy still looks at me as a noble any more than you like that it looks at you less so. But anyway, I was hoping to learn more about you. Would you mind if I walked you to the coronation ceremony?"

[Diachronos]

She smiled and lowered her hands. "I wouldn't mind at all. It's about time for me to be heading there anyway. The other Archmages don't like it when people are late." She fixed her hair so that her right eye was hidden again. "What would you like to learn about me, Lord Gabriel?"

[NeoSeraphi]

Gabriel walks with her. He thinks carefully about his question. Remembering the young half-orc, he smiles. "Well, what are your opinions on using compulsion magic on voluntary subjects? For things like calming nerves, increasing bravery, perhaps hypnotism to remove smoking habits or curb infidelity?"

[Diachronos]

Rachel beamed at him. "I think that that is the only acceptable use of enchantment magic, to be honest. Outside of self-defense, at least. Too many people want to use compulsion magic for their own gain, when there are countless uses for it that would help the person being compelled."

[NeoSeraphi]

Gabriel nods. "Right right. I remember the spell heroism, which functions like that. But spells like command and sleep would even be useful if you are creative. With the subject's permission, of course."

As the two of them walk, Gabriel recalls some information from his Ethics of Magic course. "But of course, there was always the worry that DeLessky argued, that informed consent can never truly explain to an individual what it is like to have their mind swayed. Even enchanters themselves have reported being completely shocked at the actual experience of being on the receiving end of their charms and compulsions."

"Hm. Well, it would seem that there is no clean cut answer to the question of how to properly use enchantment magic," he concludes. "However, since you were the person appointed as the archmage, I shall follow all your guidance, Miss Rachel. I look forward to any policies you put forth."

[Diachronos]

"Being charmed or compelled for the first time is frightening, especially when you're aware that you're not in control. There's nothing that scares me more than being completely at someone's mercy like that." Her smile returns when he comments on looking forward to her policies. "You don't know how much it means to hear someone say that. It's nice to know that someone is willing to support you."

[NeoSeraphi]

Gabriel nods. "Then it makes sense that you were appointed an Archmage! Anyone can cast powerful magic if they study hard enough. Not everyone understands the importance of when to use it. Restraint is a rare gift, and the fact that you have it tells me all I need to know. You're going to be an excellent leader, Miss."

They reach the hall. Gabriel bows politely and extends a hand. If she takes his hand, he will bring it to his lips and kiss her glove politely. "I appreciate your time, Miss Rachel. My home is in the Nobility District. If you ever need any assistance, or support, or would simply like a fine cup of tea, please do not hesitate to visit." He gives her his exact address, and heads into the audience to watch the coronation.

[Diachronos]

Rachel accepts his hand, and blushes deeply when he plants a kiss on the back of her glove.

The coronation passes over the course of two hours. A rather dull and somewhat monotonous ceremony, as expected of the Academy. Rachel is presented with the robes and circlet of her office, and after the ceremony is completed she is welcomed into the Archmage's Circle to the cheers of the crowd. The majority of the cheering comes from the lower-class students in the back, however, and she seems to wave to them in particular when she is given the chance.

After the coronation ends, the audience files out of the hall and goes about their business. Williams sighs once he and Gabriel are relatively alone, glad to be able to loosen up a bit. "Well, that's one more event of the week done with."

[NeoSeraphi]

Gabriel loosens his cuff links and nods. "Indeed. I do so enjoy these events, Father. Meeting new people, hearing new ideas, it's what the Academy is all about. I hope you weren't too bogged down by the same tired old windbags that always monopolize your time." He smiles.

"Oh and...by the way," he adds, averting his eyes. "There's a party tonight, at the Kresvoy Manor. I'll need to make an appearance. Vladimir and I are good friends. Don't wait up for me, alright?"

Gabriel hated lying to his father, but now that the device was finally complete, it was time for Gabriel to head back to that club and find out where his painting went.

Spoiler

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Bluff: (1d20+8)[23]

[Diachronos]

William chuckles. "No, not this time. It was dull, but a more tolerable kind of dull than what I'm used to."

He raises an eyebrow when Gabriel mentions the party.

Spoiler: OOC

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Sense Motive: (1d20+4)[13]

"Alright. Just don't cause any trouble while you're out. I know how people can get at the Kresvoy parties, but I also know you're smart enough to keep yourself from doing something crazy or reckless." He turns and heads back toward their estate, leaving Gabriel to his own devices.

[NeoSeraphi]

Gabriel follows his father back home, explaining that he needs to change into an outfit more appropriate for dancing.

When he gets to his room, he locks the door, yanks the device from his drawer, and puts the finishing touches on it. Strapping it carefully to his wrist and covering it with his sleeve, Gabriel nods to himself. He opens his closet, removing a black cloak and a purple mask. Placing the mask over his face, it covers everything save his electric blue eyes. He wraps himself in the cloak, covering his entire figure and making him look larger than he is. His bright hair is nowhere to be seen.

Gabriel slips the window open and dashes out. The Lightning Blade is ready to make his move.

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The Blade heads towards the lower ends of the city. He watches as the elevator starts up, with someone entering to go down to the Merchant District. Nodding to himself, the Blade leaps from the shadows, attempting to land on top of the elevator and ride it down without being seen.

Spoiler

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Okay, so my character doesn't have an infinite number of skill points. I suggest, for the sake of this game, that we use a system I found a while back that I can't find now, but the idea was "If the player fails the skill check, don't just make him reroll. Have him succeed, but maybe not as well as he would have liked, or have it take longer, or attach some kind of penalty like drawing unwanted attention."

If we assume this guy is an actual hero, then he should be able to do things well enough, but maybe he has it rough occasionally and things don't go 100% his way. It's more interesting than you just saying "you failed the check, nothing happens" in my opinion.

Acrobatics: (1d20+3)[20]
Derring Do: (1d6)[1]
Panache 4/5

[Diachronos]

Spoiler: Spoiler

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That's a nice system. Yeah, I think I'll go with that. I might come up with something to help out with the skill point issue later on

The Lightning Blade lands on top of the Illumacone's pod without issue, though his weight results in a noticeable thud sounding from beneath his feet.

"Did you hear that? I think something just landed on the roof!"

"Eh, probably just a bird. The stupid creatures keep running into it. The other day I was on the way down and a whole flock of thrushes was coming by, half of them hit the roof and were still on the ground by the time I got to the bottom."

The two servants in the elevators depart without incident, allowing the Lightning Blade to proceed unhindered.

[NeoSeraphi]

The Blade remains silent on the roof until the servants leave, then hops down to the ground and sneaks past a nearby building into an alleyway. Checking his watch, he nods to himself. Ten minutes. He had ten minutes before the club closed. He wanted to be there right at the end, so he could sneak in undetected while all the drunks were being thrown out.

The Blade darts through the district as stealthily as he can, his dark colors making it much harder for him to be detected. He approaches the club slowly, biding his time, making sure not to be seen.

The Blade comes into view of the club with one minute until closing time and surveys the scene.

Spoiler

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Stealth: (1d20+3)[23]
Perception: (1d20)[11]

[Diachronos]

The Blade remains unseen as the numerous drunks are tossed out of the Darklands' Delight club. The place is profitable enough to belong in the Merchant's District, but the sheer number and unruliness of the drunks late at night make it seem as though it it belonged near the docks and slums of the Lower Quarter.

As he observes the scene, he fails to notice any sign of his intended target. The bouncers and other workers seem to be the only ones here at the moment, and he catches a few of them mentioning that their boss had taken the day off. With this in mind it's unlikely that he'd find the woman here tonight... but perhaps there is useful information waiting to be found inside?

[NeoSeraphi]

The Blade nods to himself. The workers, especially the dancers, would likely not put up any sort of fight. That only left the bouncers...The Blade could see at least two, but he wasn't entirely certain about their number. Still, trying to sneak in would likely result in a fight anyway. Better to simply deal with them while he was unseen.

The Blade rolls up his sleeve from the hiding position he has taken along the wall of the club, and raises his arm. The device whirs silently to life and fires a blast of electricity into a guard's back.

Spoiler

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Attack: (1d20+4)[12] (Guard is Flat-Footed)
Damage: (1d6)[2]

Initiative: (1d20+3)[11]