Adventures in New Ganthar

[ilinares]

The city of New Ganthar is a place of beauty and ugliness in equal measure. Built upon the ruins of an ancient elven civilisation, its architecture is a blend of two cultures: elegant, graceful lines, pale stone, and glass, on the one hand; and crude stone structures, squat and hurried, often with thatched or poorly tiled roofs, on the other. Many structures are a hybrid of the two: the ruined shell of a once-pristine elven building, crudely restored to functionality with pedestrian stonework by the recent human settlers. Those are, perhaps, the most hideous buildings of all.

There are exceptions scattered around the city: temples built with care and majesty, despite their human origin; mages' retreats sculpted with spell and will into something graceful; a handful of former ruins restored sympathetically and carefully to something like their original design. Occasionally, it seems, those with taste and skill also have the wealth to put it into practice - or have wealthy patrons, at least.

It is however the economic and social contrasts that most marr New Ganthar. The Prince is distracted by his own obsessions, his nobles with their infighting; the laws that should protect the poor and vulnerable are either never made, or never enforced. The groups who might otherwise aid those in need - notably the temples - have their own conflicts that limit their effectiveness. As a result, criminal gangs fight openly in the streets, and only by paying for their protection can some measure of safety be gained - until the next gang comes along.

This is the life of the common man: nasty, brutish, and short.

As our story begins, all of that is hidden from sight - for a tempest rages in New Ganthar, the likes of which few have seen before. Driving rain, hard enough to feel like it will slew the skin from your bones, obscures vision beyond the end of your nose; the cold is intense enough to wither unprotected extremities; and bolts of lightning make it unsafe even for the hardiest souls to remain outdoors.

It is a day for seeking warmth and shelter, a day when strangers are united by a common need for solace and safety.

It is a day of destruction - and, perhaps, of new beginnings.

[Timble]

Yara stood in the almost deserted city square, alone but for a few poor souls hurrying home through the rain. She looked down at her begging bowl, empty apart from rainwater and the silver coins she herself had placed there. She had intended to preach to the crowds and gather new followers to the cult of Feronex, but the rains had ruined any chance of that. Her traveling companion was elsewhere, he had something else to do so they had arranged to meet up later.
The rain may have changed her plans but there was still much to do. The letter she had received weeks ago was still in her bag and she remembered the address. Sighing at the rain, she walked out of the square and into the dark and wet streets.

Spoiler: Start

Show

So that was my first game post ever. I will probably use the letter as an excuse to meet with Thomas Gunn and it can suggest we have some connection. Also Yara can find Theo later.
Mechanics:
Gaining focus: DC 20
(1d20+11)[31]
Should my power storing sword be presumed to start with mind thrust currently in it or should I take two from my stored power points to put it in? Mind thrust has been augmented to do increased damage.

[gallagher]

Four Months Ago

The... swiftness of your action is commendable. Theo, no doubt you were successful in Atmeia last week. Mark Tanner always led off with compliments. It was good for morale, sure, and it made him a well-loved leader. Theo preferred the more direct route, and sat there silently, waiting for Mark to continue. Mark was seldom comfortable with Theo's silent nature. He continued anyway, Theo, your family... It still bothers you a great deal. That caught Theo off-guard, and in that moment Mark saw an actual look of surprise. It is not obvious, you hide it well, but you made it apparent the way you reacted to that posse blackmailing the blacksmith.

Now just a moment, if you include the blacksmith, the three of us were outnumbered by young fools who, despite their hostile intent, had obviously never been in a fight against a real opponent before. I took their leader down, swiftly, and ensured that... But Mark interrupted; You held your damnable greatsword to a nobleman's son's throat, a young lad half your size, after breaking eight of his teeth. You dared him to move an inch, you challenged his friends to draw their swords. I cannot think of a greater example of overreaction.

That put Theo back to silence. He never had a good grip over anger - at least not when he felt justified about it. The gods themselves are often vengeful, Mark continued, and we all can see that they continue to grant you blessings, regardless of your motivation. They must approve of your path. Stop hiding from the truth, you'll never put your inner demons to rest if you do not confront them.

You are right to want revenge for your family, but you must seek it against those who wronged you and nobody else. It will take that young man's father a week to get here, and no doubt he left already demanding that your status here be revoked, and I do not want you here when he comes. Your new assignment, and you will not receive new orders until you complete this, is to find your just vengeance. You have at least four days before you leave to plan the next steps of your mission.


To Atneia, Theo said without hesitation. Before Mark could protest, Theo went on. The blacksmith said he would make me a new breastplate in gratitude, with a finer eagle emblazoned in the chest. He promised it would go well with my "damnable greatsword," and I would be rude not to accept his gift after he spent so much labor on it. After that I'll head straight to Tarona, there is enough criminal activity there that I may find a tip. I don't know where after, maybe New Ganthar. I'll stay off the road so that I dont come across that nobleman, and I will leave after I say my goodbye's, and Master Tecnitus will want to host me for an evening one last time.

With that, Mark nodded. May Charis guide you. I am not taking your membership, so you must keep your vow. Be the sword of the weak, the shield of the poor, and the courage of the meek.

Two weeks ago

A moment of your time, sir! Theo heard from a few paces behind him, just as he was leaving the gates of Tarona. Unsure of what he was expecting, he was nonetheless surprised to see a tall woman, a part-giantess by the look of her, walking hastily in his direction.

Sir, I... know that symbol. She said, staring at the soaring eagle adorning Theo's breastplate. I'm Yara, a priestess, and I need to move on to the next city to try and find new followers for Feronax. Yara paused, possibly as if expecting Theo to respond? Another traveler, in need of assurance of their safety. At least this one is packed and ready.

Before Theo could interject, she went on. I dont have any place specifically in mind, but I am sure that anywhere you are going is some place I haven't been. Theo held up his hand before she could continue, That is everything you own in your pack, isn't it? He didnt wait for her to nod. Come along then, the road is long

Present Day

Theo loved the rain, usually. Rain helps grow food, it washes filth from the streets, and he always seemed to sleep better during a rainstorm. This time was different, though. Several days on the road just make a man tired, and while the rain cascaded down the front of his breastplate easily enough, his leather undercoat became soaked through. Theo walked in the deliberate pace of a guardsman, and while vision was obscured by the storm, he kept his eyes alert and scanning for anything that might stand out- Or for what might blend in too well - Theo thought to himself.

The half giant he escorted to New Ganthar was an odd one. He payed little heed to her proselytizing of her dragon god, For Theo was inordinately blessed by Charis, the Wise Warrior. Theo was also confused as to why she began begging when they reached the city. But none of that mattered now, they had arranged to meet back up later. Theo was on his own mission now; to find information as to who burned his family alive, and who ordered it to happen.

The architecture looked different here than anywhere else he had been, but Theo didnt think on that for too long. Every new place he had been looked odd at first. The basic parts of every city were the same, however. Men seek forgiveness and healing at the house of the gods, bought food and ale at dirty taverns, and were jailed in public buildings. Theo planned to visit each of these buildings that the city had to offer, but he first needed to get out of the rain.

And the best place to get out of the rain is a tavern, one with an empty room he can hang his clothes to dry. Hand resting firmly on the pommel of his greatsword, Theo continued sloshing through the mud in search of answers.

[arkangel111]

One Year Ago

The storm raged outside, the occasional flashes casting the room in sudden light for brief moments. Veil stood staring at his own image in a mirror. He was disgusted with what he saw. A hulking beast almost 9 feet tall, that had been designed solely to kill. His features barely humanoid, having been given only the slightest amount of care during his creation. Probably, just enough for the spells requirements to have been met. His arms and legs were in different proportions to his oversized chest. His black beady eyes, the only recognizable feature on his head.

De’Tinu was no stonemason, he was barely a wizard by human standards. Veil had overheard more than one conversation, expounding on his master’s lack of skill. Veil closed his eyes, feeling his true body beneath. Artists often said the statue had called to their soul, all they had to do was release the form the stone wished to be.

Veil could feel the areas where De’Tinu, in his haste had chipped away at the stone too hastily, not enough to make Veil’s true form impossible but it would likely have consequences. He reached up with his hands beginning the process. In only a few moments, he had removed the excess stone.

He stood regarding his true form in the mirror now. Significantly smaller, perhaps 6’0” at most and if he were lucky he might be 18 stone weight though probably less. This body was far more sleek than the original, he felt light, his body moving with far more grace than it had. His arms perfectly proportional to his body, he was practically a work of art.

His eyes however were still dark orbs, lifeless black beads. He flared his power suddenly, the eyes glowing a bright cyan, his chest suddenly displaying runes in the same color. The power coursed through his body, wanting to be released. It was his power now, the wizard could no longer force him to use it against his will. He released the energy in a sudden torrent, lashing out with it.

Vials, tables, and books shattered as he let the energy flow through him. Veil released the energy letting it settle back down. The runes on his chest disappearing, the glow in his eyes dimming. They still glowed though faintly. He twitched suddenly, magical energy creating lights around him for a moment, accompanied by a noticeable buzzing noise.

A pounding at the door shook him from his reverie. Guards! Veil stooped down quickly, removing the pouch from De’Tinu’s corpse, it might come in handy. Racing to the window Veil grabbed the robe his master had discarded on a chair. The soldiers burst into the room, spotting veil.
“Halt! By order...” His voice was abruptly cut off as an explosion rocked the small tower. The chemicals from the workbench having mixed together violently.

The force of the explosion throwing him out the window. Frantic veil grasped at his power and latched himself to the wall somehow. He slid down the wall slowly coming to a halt, still halfway up the tower. Where would he go? What would he do? Was there others like him? Thunder shook the sky again, reminding him that he was exposed to the violent storm. First he’d have to find a place to hide, protected from the storm. Then he would worry about the rest. He slipped the robe on as he ran down the tower vertically. Disappearing into the city streets.

Present day

Veil walked among the sick. He was not skilled in medicine but he could be of use, fetching water or bandages for Sister Rosalind. She was a kind woman. She hadn't turned him away, or treated him with contempt or fear like so many of the other humans. There was not much he could do for the kind lady. Occasionally he'd have to break up small fights. Force out those that decided to cause trouble for her. He leaned down picking up a small doll from the ground where it had slipped from the poor child's arms in her sleep. She stirred as he wrapped her arm around it. "It's OK child, go back to sleep". The storm raged outside, just as it had so long ago, the night he was freed from bondage. Was it a sign?

Spoiler: OOC

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WOOPS. Apparently I didn't get myself a connection to start the game. Edited it in real quick so at least things will give us a tie-in. I used purple for the bad guy since nothing had been said about their colors. Though my color is still Turquoise.

[dantiesilva]

It had been roughly a year now since Sister Rosalind had traveled across the sea from her homeland to the new kingdom known as New Ganthar. When she had first set foot on the docks that her ship had set anchor in, the priestess of the lovers had been taken aback by the architecture of new Ganthar. The beauty of the old elven empire's mixed with the creations of man to create a unique piece of art of its own. Her favorite buildings happened to be those that seemed like they were built from the remains of a great elven house, mixing the materials of stone and wood beautifully to create unique pieces.

For some odd reason it seemed however that very few shared the views of the red haired priestess, for it was the poor who lived in the district that held this multicultural masterpiece. After settling into the poor districts of New Ganthar Sister Rosalind had a very hard time at the beginning setting up a place of work, to be able to take care of the sick, living mostly on the streets with many of the poor. And going house to house when she was asked to help the sick. Using the little money she kept on her to buy the herbs she needed to treat the simple wounds, and asking Kirest to allow his loving warmth to flow through her to heal those who suffered from worse maladies.

A few months back however a lawyer buy the name of Thomas had approached her explaining that an interested party was willing to invest in getting her a more permanent place where she could treat the ill. Sister Rosalind was a bit worried at first, but as the kind lawyer explained to her that she would make the rules for her establishment, just she had to continue treating all who needed her like she did already she happily agreed. Less than a month later she was the proud owner of the "Gleaming Rose of the Lovers".

Since than her ability too treat the sick has been greatly increased and a few of those she has helped have in turn stayed with her trying to learn how to help others under her guidance. "I do not know everything to know my children. It is Kirest and Torae who treat your wounds. I am simply their vessel to help you along your journey." She would always remark when asked to teach someone new, showing them in her own way that she was not the one who choose who would be saved or who would depart this world to begin a new journey, but the Lovers were.

Present day

Standing outside a building that had been restored from its elven days stood a woman in a simple green tunic, her fiery red hair soaked in its braid as the rain poured down around her, drenching her clothing as she walked looked out in the distance for any figures to help into her shelter. Turning towards her sign that read "The Gleaming Rose of the Lovers" Sister Rosalind held up her hands as she called out with a power that defied her short 4'5" frame. "Oh Kirest, giver of life please guide your children to this abode so that none will have to suffer in this storm that has befallen us all." comes the soft voice of the priestess. Yet as she speaks it seems to be heard over the very storm as a single ray of light emits from her hands for a split second before traveling to the sign of her hospice. Illumaniting for all a place to seek shelter and warmth from the storm raging on outside.

" Thank you Kirest for showing your children the way and may you and Torae watch from the heavens as your children grow into the people you know they can be." she says bowing her head before walking inside, slowly. Looking once more around her humble abode before stepping inside to tend to the ill. "Sister Rosalind you must go get changed before you catch a cold from being wet." called one of her younger followers as she entered a room lined with bed cots in almost every available space. Leaving only a walkway between any two so that the healers could treat the sick.

"I am fine Marglean, worry about Fredric over there." Sister Rosalind replied kindly to the woman's kind words, before heading over to one of the cots and kneeling down beside the man who had lost everything in a fire. Over the past few days she had been able to heal some of his scared skin, allowing him the ability to talk, however there was still a lot of damage that remained from the fire. Picking up a ladle by the bed she lifted it to the mans mouth as her other hand helped him sit up slowly so he could drink the cool refreshing water in the ladle.

"Hello Solarce, how did you sleep last night?" she asked kindly, making sure to be gentle with the figure as she waited for him to finish drinking. " If you wish we can go outside today, I believe the cool rain water will do well for your wounds and your spirit. We will have to wait for the storm to die down a little first. After that we can dress your wounds again. How does that sound?" The priestess of the lover asked kindly, as if she were talking to a child when in fact she was talking to one of the few guards who ever patrolled the district. He had been the last out of the burning building his family had lived in, making sure that everyone else had escaped before leaving himself. Had it not been for his brave heroics that day no one may have survived instead, his entire family did, including their child who he had wrapped in a blanket he had soaked in water before running out of the building saving the childs life, and sacrificing his own in the process. Or at least he would have if no one had seen the fire and went to get her.

[ilinares]

Spoiler: Yara

Show

The streets are deserted - but that is hardly a surprise. Forcing your way through the rain feels almost like swimming - if, that is, you were swimming against a fierce current, and the river were filled with needles.

Despite the weather, you find your way to the address in the letter. As you do so, you think on the terse message it contained.

Yara, If you would serve your god, be at the address below by noon on the first day after the new moon.

Noon was a couple of hours away yet, but this is the nominated day. The letter did say "by noon," so being early should - you hope - be no problem.

You wonder if it is a hoax, and indulge briefly in a fantasy of bloody vengeance against whoever might be responsible. The pleasant image almost causes you to miss your destination; just in time, you emerge from your reverie to see the address loom through the driving storm.

The address has brought you to a mostly unremarkable building, a ramshackle wooden house - little more than a hovel - creaking in the wind as though it might collapse. You recognise it: you visited a few days before, and spent some time surreptitiously viewing the building to see whether anyone came or went. So far as you could tell, the building was abandoned.

It still looks empty. The idea of a hoax seems more likely.

You enter, and the stench of death assails your senses. You spend a few tense moments letting your eyes adjust to the darkness - and as soon as they do, you almost throw yourself back out of the door again.

The room is filled with corpses.

And they are watching you.

At the centre of the room, a cowled figure sits in a rocking chair. One pallid hand, the flesh nearly translucent, rests lightly on the chair arm; and in the shadows of the hood, you can just perceive a pale green light, but little else.

The chair groans as its occupant leans forward, and the figure speaks in a surprisingly urbane voice.

"Come in, Yara. We have much to discuss."

Spoiler: Rosalind

Show

Solarce stares up at you, his eyes haunted. For a time, it seems he will ignore you altogether, and you start to move on to your next patient; then a twisted, flame scarred hand fastens on your arm with urgent - if feeble - force.

"You're a priestess," he wheezes, voice mangled by smoke-burned lungs. "I've watched you. You have magic. You can heal anything."

His eyes focus on you, for perhaps the first time since you brought him here, and you get a glimpse of something behind them - a deep and abiding sorrow.

"This wasn't the first time a guard's home has been burned down in the last few weeks. I've lost friends - good ones - and several of those who kept their lives have lost family, friends.

"So tell me: can you bring them back? Can you heal them, even now?"

Spoiler: Theo

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You spy the sign of a tavern through the veil of the storm - little more than a glimpse, but in that glimpse you see the image of a flagon of ale and... is that a bear?

Regardless, you push through the doors and into the welcome relief of a dry, sheltered building. At first, the simple pleasure of being out of the rain drowns out all other considerations, and you stand for a moment in the entryway, dripping onto the floorboards.

Further details quickly become apparent, your soldier's instincts taking in details even as your conscious mind revels in relief. Two exits - behind and to the far left. Eight occupants: a grizzled barkeep, perhaps fifty, eyeing you with suspicion over a mostly-clean bar; one slender youth, barely old enough to drink, hunched possessively over his drink at the bar with his back to you; a serving woman, heavy make up and a scandalously low cut dress making a poor attempt to distract from rotten teeth and jaded, care-worn features; five others, huddled to your right around a fireplace, a mix of ages and genders united by a common plight, for each had the drowned look of one caught out by the storm.

The barkeep grunts, taking in your arms and armour. He looks pointedly at the massive club mounted behind him, then back at you. He then produces a glass which was somewhat less filthy than the others, and barks out one word.

"Ale?"

Spoiler: Veil

Show

You walk among the sick, the suffering, and you marvel at how fragile humanity is. For you, disease is alien, fatigue unheard of; pain you can understand, but not in the debilitating, bone-numbing sense these people describe. Does that make you superior to them? In a purely practical sense, perhaps; but is there an aspect of the human experience that you are simply unable to appreciate, a texture to their lives that yours lacks?

The storm rages on outside. Is it, as you wonder, a sign? To believe in signs implies a belief in higher powers, that might send them; but your own eldritch talents are proof enough that this is a complex world, the realm of everyday experience interacting constantly with other forces, other planes of existence. Might not some of those forces be less constrained by time and causation than you - might the effects be distant from their causes, or even predate them?

Your increasingly abstract chain of thought is interrupted by the arrival of a guardsman. You take in his capable bearing, the hints of grey and creases of flesh that denote experience among mortals; the armour has markings above the breast, suggesting decoration or rank. An officer, you surmise, and perhaps a skilled enough fighter to be a threat.

With the storm calling to mind the day of De'Tinu's well-deserved death, you wonder if this man has come to arrest you.

He stares at you, surprise and confusion on his face. He has not, then, been looking for you. But does he know who you are, what you have done - or what was done to you?

He licks his lips, a nervous gesture, as he struggles for words. You are half a head taller than him, you note, and you see him assess his chances against you and realise how slim they would be. A soldier's reflex? Or the result of a real desire to do you harm?

At last he speaks. "Construct, one of my men has been brought here - Constable Solarce. Can you take me to him?"

[Timble]

"Well," Yara said. "I honestly wasn't expecting this."
She reached out with her mind to try and discern their nature. Unsure how wise it was to enter, she walked in feigning a confidence she did not feel.
"So, Who are you?" and after a short pause she continued "And who are they?"

Spoiler: OOC

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Manifested Detect Psionics. Shared power with psicrystal. I will try to maintain it for at least three rounds if possible.

[ilinares]

Spoiler: Yara

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Spoiler: OOC

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First round: you detect the presence of magic (n.b. full psionic-magic transparency rules apply).

The cowled figure turns its head, taking in the undead beings to each side.

"In life, they were the lost souls of this city, beggars and strays whom no-one will miss. In death, they are my servants and bodyguards. Consider it a compliment: you are skilled enough in your own arts to merit certain precautions.

"As for who I am... In Ganthar, we would say that names have power. I do not lightly give mine for the asking. For convenience, you may call me Shroud.

"I have asked you here because I have learned some little of what you are, and of whom you serve. It happens I have need of a competent, discrete ally who is reasonably immune to squeamishness."

He raises his hand to point one withered finger at you.

"More to the point, I know what it is that your Master seeks. I am prepared to give you information which will help you in your quest. But I have a price for doing so."

[Timble]

"And what do you think you can offer my master?" Yara asks. She listens to his reply before continuing: "And what is your price?"

Spoiler: OOC

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My last post for now, until the others do their stuff.

[gallagher]

Theo looks around the room, making quick survey of how dangerous different patrons may be, before the grizzled barkeep asks loudly Ale?

Theo turns his head to the barkeep and puts on the faintest of smiles at the prospect of a good beer. After noticing the club behind the counter, Theo takes his hand off his greatsword as a sign of nonaggression. He nods affirmatively and walks up to the bar, and responds tersely. Ale for certain, and some hot soup if you have it. Also looking for a room for the evening.

[arkangel111]

"Right this way, sol..." His voice is drowned out momentarily by crackling energy as it leaps from his shoulder and pops "...stress Rosalind is caring for him now. I ask that you please wait patiently un..." again the crackling energy followed by a high pitched whirring, the sparks leaps upward spinning quickly before it just disappears "...says to approach." He leads him over to the bed with Rosalind.
He lifts his arm up barring the soldier's way, not violently but firm just the same. Knowing sometime's that humans tend to overreact and run to a patients side. "Please wait here until mis.." a gazoo like sound accompanied by a white orb, which then pops like a bubble. "...ays its ok to approach." Veil then steps aside making sure Rosalind notices him and the soldier.
"The rain makes it worse." Veil says, noting the soldier's curiosity about to overcome him. In truth, the rain had little to do with it. Veil has an increase in the episodes whenever he thinks back on De'Tinu. Veil, pulls a small chisel from his robes and begins cleaning out the grooves in his joints.

[ilinares]

Spoiler: Yara

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Shroud considers his words carefully, his body impossibly still as he does so.

"Your master is obsessed with acquiring psionic power, and in particular with enslaving those gifted with significant psionic talents. I take it that is not an unfair assessment? Well, then, we can be of assistance to one another.

"You know nothing of me, and I but little of you. A test seems to be I'm order - a small service, which I will ask you to render, and in exchange for which I offer a commensurate reward. Prove your worth in this, and I shall take you further into my confidence - and show you the path to advance your master's ends.

"There is a man in this city named Calartes. He is an unremarkable wizard, but a notable scholar. He has a collection of relics, many of them psionic in nature; but of greatest significance is a tome, the Sacred Rites of Dalvar. I want you to retrieve it for me by any means necessary."

Spoiler: Theo

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The barkeep places ale and soup before you, and barks a price that makes you hesitate a moment before, remembering the rain outside, placing several large coins on the table.

The too-thin man beside you stares at the coin, then at his empty mug. Putting on what is meant to be a friendly smile, he asks, "What brings you out in this, friend?"

Spoiler: Veil

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The soldier observes a respectful distance, waiting for Rosalind to finish her ministrations. After a moment, he stares thoughtfully at you.

"You're not just a golem, are you? You don't talk like 'em. What's your deal? You work for the priestess?"

[gallagher]

Theo puts his bag of coins back into his bag of holding hanging from his belt. At first, all he can think about is the warmth of the soup in front of him, and he lifts the bowl to his lips for a big gulp. As he does so, he hears himself be addressed by the thin man he noticed when he entered the tavern.

"What brings you out in this, friend?"

Theo puts his bowl back on the counter and glances over at the man, deciding what to make of him before divulging too much. He is clearly looking for a way to get another pint. Not that Theo was uncharitable, but he had little patience for indirect people, thinking that such games were a waste of time. But with this storm, and no connections in this city, he had to start somewhere. Okay, we'll play your game Theo thought. Just be quick about it.

Work. Theo says in a gruff and slightly annoyed one, as he grabs his mug of ale and drinks a third of it. To give the man a better look at who he was talking to, Theo takes his cloak off entirely and tosses it in a bundle on the stool to his other side. Turning to face the too-thin man, Theo asks Friend, you say, have we met before? Theo takes another drink from his mug before glaring at the man with a look urging him to speak quickly.

[Timble]

"Hey! We don't enslave people!" Yara furiously hissed. "We are just interested in objects of immense psionic ability and just because sometimes those objects are people and they're never allowed to leave out temple doesn't mean their a slave..."
Realising she didn't know where she was going with that statement, she quickly calmed down.
"So where is this Calartes? And what is your interest in this book?
While listening to his reply, she wondered how much of a threat he was. If she was seen dealing with this man she would never be able to build a good reputation and she didn't know how powerful he was, though she suspected he was more powerful than her. If she was to stay in this city for a while, she would use him for as much as she could before hopefully killing him.

[arkangel111]

Oh no! I've been found! "Normal? Well no. I am a special model. My creator very much wanted his own golem, and refused to buy o..." A sound seemed to originate from his shoulder , virrrrrrrr st st st st plop, accompanied by blue smoke. "...e-made. Instead he made me from scratch." How can I spin my story to make it believable! "I believe the process took some time. In t..." wheeewheeewheeewheee faded in and then out rapidly. "...d he must of been upset with his work since the product was not worth the cost. At least" wheeewheeewheeewheee faded in and then out rapidly. "that's what I was told on at least one occasion." Maybe if I keep talking he'll get bored. "My deal? I fail to understand the question, I am currently..." A cascade of fireworks without noise seemed to explode all about veil. "...not for sale if that is your meaning. Mistress Rosalind has expressed on more than one occasion how invaluable it is to have one such as myself available to her at all hours. My considerably smaller frame is great for close quarters such as these, and while my strength is dimini..." random sounds coalesced together seeming to leap from place to place, at first making those around veil think they heard 'If you build it, he will come' but upon further reflection realizing it was just random noises. "...rom that of other golems, I do not tire and can therefore help with the patients when needed even when mortals are worn out. Additionally I have been able to restock Mistress Rosalind's supplies during the night hours when most are resting. This allows her more qualifie..." A whisper of sound, wawawawa, seemed to suddenly rotate about veil before going silent. "...taff to treat the sick and not worry about their supplies. I do not work with Mistress Rosalind, at least not in the conventional sense. Not like how you work for your captain. I have no need for money, nor does Mistress Rosalind have the extra funds to pay me if that was her desire."

Spoiler: OOC

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Veil is not too familiar with the concept of lieing, having had little opportunity to practice during his time spent with Rosalind. Instead he tries to tell only the truth while giving an answer and let others assume his answer.

[esorscher]

Past

What is a day in the life of the world's most attractive, intelligent, and arrogant attorney? Nothing short of splendid. It begins by waking up on a comfortable but firm mattress, to a loving and tender caress from a beautiful actress, a morning's exercise, and a bath in a personal tub, with hot water drawn expressly for his use. After a hearty breakfast suitable for one who had done so much already and yet still had so much to do, Thomas Gunn departs his apartment and takes a carriage to his office near the city square, housed in an old stone building, which like other buildings on the block has a variety of crudely painted examples of graffiti from local gang-affiliated artists. The door is already open to him, and he enters a waiting room entertaining three men and a young red-haired receptionist.

"Good morning, boss," the young receptionist says. She is a bright and attractive woman, and hands Gunn, esquire, a small stack of notes. "Mr. Ghent sent word cancelling his appointment this afternoon."

Cancelling? He thinks. "Good morning, Lora," he says with a smile, nodding to the apparent waiting clients. Of course, they are not waiting clients, but rather coworkers--bodyguards assigned to a prized employee. Gunn looks over the notes as he opens the door to his office and heads inside. The morning passes without event as he works diligently--for as arrogant as he is, Gunn knows that every ounce of intellect and charm he acquired through hard work and careful practice, and that the respect he had he had earned through virtue, not vice. There was a time for revelry, and a time for labor, and the gods had seen fit to give man two celestial orbs to indicate which was which. The sun was up, and he was working, pouring over scrolls and parchment with ink and eye.

But all as he works, the fact of Ghent's cancellation sticks in his mind, an unusual occurrence not because of what it was--a cancelled appointment and a free hour--but because of who and when it was to take place. No, Thomas decides, Mr. Ghent would not be cancelling his appointment. The appointment would take place as scheduled.

"Snake!" Gunn calls out halfway through the morning, and a few moments later the door to his office opens. Snakehands Larry is a short, thin youth about eighteen years of age, with a wispy mustache. Gunn hands him a note. "Find out where Waldrum Ghent is, and where he'll be at this time."

A few hours later, an hour or so before the appointed time, one of the other bodyguards hands Gunn a note--an address, in the southern districts. A carriage ride later and Gunn is there, at a wood and daub two-story building, the bottom floor a magic shop and the top floor an apartment. It is raining, but Gunn stands underneath an overhang and stays dry. A half hour past the appointment time, and out of the door to the top floor emerges Waldrum Ghent, and he heads down the wood stairs. Gunn crosses the street and meets Ghent as he is hitting the ground, and pushes him into the wall. "You're a ****ing moron, you know that?" Gunn starts in, whispering with force. "Great to see you, buddy!" he calls out, smiling widely, grabbing Ghent and embracing him in a bear hug. He whispers angrily in his ear, "You cancel a meeting with your divorce attorney to go **** your mistress. Just how many coppers do you want her to leave you with, you *******!" Then he releases his him, but maintains an arm around his idiotic client as he walks him down the street to the corner. "Come on, let's go get a drink."

"I didn't think it would matter, I mean, she already knows about--"

"Knowing and having admissible evidence in arbitration is entirely different," Gunn says.

Ghent is silent for a while, then says, when they reach the corner, "So, where are we drinking?"

"We are not drinking anywhere," Gunn says glaringly, "You are going to go home." He whistles, and the carriage pulls up. Snakehands Larry emerges and holds the door open for Ghent, who Gunn urges nonverbally up the stairs. "You are going to calculate the value of every piece of **** item in that piece of **** apartment you are staying in, and think about how much you could sell it for, and what kind of piece of **** attorney you can hire for that piddling amount of coin after you burn through my retainer on this garbage. Then, you will feed and house my friend here until we close arbitration on Friday." Gunn glowers menacingly at Ghent. "Now nod, and say you understand, sir."

Ghent nods vigorously. "I understand, sir."

"No," Gunn starts, but then shakes his head and sighs. Snakehands Larry closes the door behind him and the carriage pulls away. Gunn takes stock of himself, and his situation, and decides the best place to get out of the rain would be... there, at the Flagon of Bear. Gunn always did appreciate wordplay, and besides, he knew this city's entertainment venues like it was his business, because, well, it was his business, especially in a neighborhood that belonged to Stazia.

He walks in, and is quickly recognized by the barkeep, who pours him a flagon of ale in a clean glass. Gunn nods and walks it over to the fireplace, where he stands in front of the grandma in her seat closest to the fire. She looks up from her knitting slowly, but on seeing his face, gets up and shuffles to the next seat over. Gunn sits down wordlessly and holds the ale in both hands. His hands glow blue and cold, and the liquid inside the flagon is chilled, and Gunn begins sipping the now cold and refreshing beverage as he sits by the warming hearth.

Present

Thomas Gunn watches the warrior enter the tavern from his seat by the fire. He does not recognize the individual, but he sees in him the look of someone who might be useful, or dangerous, or both.

[dantiesilva]

Sister Rosalind stays calm as her patient grabs onto her arm with his that was covered in burn scars. "Yes Solarce I am a priestess, and I do posses a talent for the gift of healing given to me by the lovers." the red haired priestess answers kindly to the man." My powers are limited just like those of any religion are though, and I could name you thousands of saints from back home that could make the miracles you see here look like simple parlor tricks in comparison. So what is your question my child?"

As the man tells her that many of the guards had been attacked recently in their homes in similar fashion sister Rosalind simply sits their waiting for him to finish his story, she knew interrupting him could prove unhealthy for him as he was still recovering and she didn't know how much strength it took him to speak each word. " I have heard rumors of the guards however none except you have been brought to me before so I can not say what actions were taken to save them. I can say that the lovers are kind and fair and they consider each of our lives a precious gift to be treasured. So to answer your question no I can not bring the dead back to this world, it is beyond my power. I am sorry, were my teacher here it perhaps would be possible, however I was sent alone to help the people here." Sister Rosalind says sadly, her emerald green eyes locking with his own so she knew the words she spoke were the truth.

"And even if I had the power to do so would it be fair to take them away from the peace they have found on the other side? A master of the divine will can bring the dead back to life, but only if they are willing. Otherwise the best they can do is heal the dying and treat the ill. It is why I became a healer." she says turning her head as she hears the sounds of veil behind her.

"Hello Veil, may I help you with something?" she says looking to the man standing behind Veil and noticing he did not seem wounded, though he was wearing armor. " Sir I must ask you to please keep your sword seethed while you are inside my hospital, it does not matter who you see here this is a neutral area and no killing or violence is allowed within the halls of the lovers." Sister Rosalind says looking up at the man from her small frame. " Now as I see you are not injured how may I help you?"

[ilinares]

Spoiler: Yara

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"Calartes lives in what has become known as the Mages' District - you may have seen the towers yourself, the work of modern wizards seeking to emulate the splendour of the elven ruins. It's not far from the Temple of Charis. I'm sure you can find someone to direct you.

"As for my interest, it is a grimoire - a collection of rare spells."

Spoiler: OOC

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You have now traced weak auras of magic to each skeleton, and several strong auras to Shroud. If you have Spellcraft ranks you can try and learn more.

If you feel your character wouldn't want to work for Shroud, don't feel you have to. Walking away is a valid choice. Whatever you decide may have consequences down the line, but please don't feel railroaded!

Also, please roll a Sense Motive check.

Spoiler: Theo & Gunn

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The man at the bar blanches visibly and mutters something about using the latrine before stumbling out.

The bartender makes a noise that might almost be called a laugh, and goes on rearranging the dirt behind the bar.

The ale tastes as bad as it looks - thin and watery, with a texture that suggests things floating in it. Theo chokes it down manfully, but is in no hurry for a second swallow.

A minute later, the door slams open, and a trio of figures enter. One, a well-dressed male gnome of middle years, is clearly the leader; he surveys the room through small half-moon spectacles, while his henchmen - a pair of younger men so massive they might have orc blood in their ancestry - glower menacingly at the patrons. One is folding away a large, dripping umbrella, which rather spoils the image.

The gnome approaches the bar, with his lackeys following behind him like dogs called to heel. As he approaches, the room begins to empty, as first one patron, then another decides to brave the elements rather than stay to see what happens.

"Dear me, Grabak," says the gnome, polishing his spectacles with a handkerchief. He has a long, walrus-like moustache that quivers when he speaks. "Twice in as many weeks. You realise I shall have to take double, now, for the inconvenience?"

Spoiler: Veil & Rosalind

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The officer is distracted from his fascination with Veil by the priestess's arrival. He listens to what she has to say, and holds up a placating hand.

"I don't plan on starting anything, Sister. I just need to speak to my man here. He's not filed his report, and I need to know if he saw or heard anything that'll help us track down them as keeps burning guards' homes. He well enough to talk?"

[Timble]

"How am I suppose to contact you again? Any advice or items to help?"
Leaving soon after, Yara was relieved to have escaped the room. He want's me to get him an item but doesn't even tell me exactly where it is. How...helpful.
Heading towards the mage towers, she thought on what information she had learned. Temple of Charis, that's Theo's god, I think. Perhaps I can find him there...
Deciding that inviting Theo on a heist was unwise unless reconnaissance suggested support was needed, Yara decided to keep at a distance from the temple. Just in case.

Spoiler: OOC

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Sense Motive Roll: (1d20+2)[21]
What I meant in my last post wasn't that this was going out of character, only that she would consider that being found to be working with a necromancer would make her attempts to pretend to be good almost impossible. Also she will likely backstab him if he stops being useful or their work about to be uncovered.
I am liking how this is going. Steal a wizards magic stuff? I'd do it for free.
Kind of regretting not putting ranks into spell craft.

[arkangel111]

Noticing the little girl has dropped her doll again. Veil steps away to get it for her. Tucking it back beneath her arms he makes his way back to Rosalind and the guard. Stopping one of the assistants briefly and whispering to her "I think the Sara is in pain. She may need more pain killers, Mistress" His remarks are followed by a bright flash and fizzle.
Veil stands near the soldier, still on guard in case he decides to try something with that sword. It would not be the first time an assassin had been sent to finish the job in Rosalind's clinic after all.

Spoiler: OOC

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In game terms I am readying an action to baleful utterance (shatter) his sword should he decide to draw a weapon, dagger or sword.

[esorscher]

Gunn remains seated at the hearth, his attention entirely on the scene before him, and specifically focused on the gnome and the warrior at the bar. He surreptitiously detects magic on the three rival gangsters, and on the warrior for good measure.

[gallagher]

As the too-thin man leaves, Theo smirks to himself - not a friend after all. Though I may need to soften my approach...

Nonetheless, Theo returns to his mug of ale, gulping it down without much attention to the taste. He hears the door to the tavern open, and doesnt need to turn around to know the sound of a room emptying. Must be some local thug. Just what I needed. When the gnome sits at the bar next to Theo, he tips his mug back to finish off his ale.

You realise I shall have to take double, now, for the inconvenience? The hears the little man say. Theo looks over at the possible-part-orcs that this gnome has protecting him, sizing them up before he intervenes.

[ilinares]

Spoiler: Yara

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Spoiler: Sense Motive

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Shroud clearly isn't telling you everything - particularly about the Tome. Still, what he has said has been truthful, as far as it goes. He seems genuinely to want your aid, and you believe him when he says he will advance Feronax's cause in return.

Shroud shakes his head - and you realise as he does so that you should have been able to glimpse more of his features than you have. He may be using magic to conceal his face... or there might not be a face to see.

"How would this be a test of your competence if I gave you the answers? But as to how you contact me again, simply place a coin from your homeland in the donations plate at the Temple of Granig. I will then contact you."

Spoiler: OOC

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Please make a Knowledge: Religion check.

[esorscher]

Recognizing the gnome, Gunn stands from his seat, and walks confidently toward the gnome and his bodyguards. "Tobias Wrenfeather," he states. Either the gnome recognizes him as his counterpart in a rival organization or he does not. "Grabak has already paid for protection, as you can see. Tell Jaurthen if he wishes to open negotiations with the Widow, he can contact me at my office." Gunn hands a business card to the gnome. "I am sure we can find a mutually profitable arrangement for both our organizations." He smiles.

Spoiler: Diplomacy

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(1d20+15)[24]

[gallagher]

As Theo sizes up the newcomers, some skinny human walks up in attempt to avoid conflict. Did I walk in on a turf conflict? Theo thought to himself. Confident that he could defeat everyone in the bar, Theo confidently clinks his empty glass to call attention to himself, and holds up one finger to order another ale.

[dantiesilva]

As the guard holds up his hands stating that he only wished to speak to his man Rosalind looked between the two for a moment debating what would be best for her patient. The sound of the rain water constantly slamming into the rough told her that the storm was still going on as she noticed a leak beginning to form in the ceiling. "Please give me a moment." Sister Rosalind says to the guard as she looks to one of her fellow healers. "Elizabeth, could you please go place a bucket under that. We do not want any of the patients getting hurt walking and slipping from the wet floor." She explains to the girl no older than 16 who nods and goes off to get a bucket.

With the spill taken care of the Priestess of the lovers turns back to her guest and Veil, noticing as her friend took a positron to make sure she would remain safe. Reminding her off when the soul had found its way to her doors. When she first took him in it seemed the person known as Veil did not understand the importance of human life, and so slowly she began to show him there were other ways to keep people safe. She was proud Veil had learned so quickly to target a persons weapon instead after watching one shatter when she had gotten in the way of an assassin trying to kill one of her patients and their blade broke into a thousand pieces against her skin.

For a brief moment she looks to Veil with a smile on her face that seemed to lighten up her emerald green eyes as she looked at his actions with approval before turning to look at the man coming to see her patient. " The only reason your man is alive is because he had friends in this district that came to get me, and when I arrived I tended to his wounds as best I could before asking Veil to help me carry him here to be treated properly. As you can see he has suffered a lot of damage and was not in shape to file a report." Sister Rosalind says protectively of her patient before continuing. " As for if he can speak, I would not recommend stressing his voice for to long. A few quick questions if he is feeling strong enough for it but that is it. That fire did a lot of damage to his body, as well as his soul and I will not have it strained." Sister Rosalind says sternly like a mother to the guard as she turns to Solarce.

"If you feel strong enough to answer his questions nod simply yes or no Solarce. And do you want me and Veil to stay here with you while you answer them?" she asks wanting her patient to feel comfortable and worrying less about what the guard before her was concerned with.

Spoiler: Diplomacy check

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To make the other guard understand that her patient may not be ready for this (1d20+20)[32]

[ilinares]

Spoiler: Gunn & Theo

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Tobias looks from the card to Gunn, his features flickering from surprise to annoyance to speculation.

"What would the Widow want with this place?" he muses aloud. He shakes his head slowly, looking Gunn up and down. "I like you, lawyer; I respect your professionalism, and I must say I would prefer to discuss the matter like gentlemen. But consider the position this puts us in. The Black Wyverns can't afford to surrender territory lightly - not with the Mandrakes and the Sons of Malesh already bleeding us dry."

He points to the barkeep. "Listen, old man: you need to think about who will protect you best - and what the consequences will be for you, if you insult Jaurthen like this."

The bartender reaches down, his hand going out of sight. Theo knows he's reaching for the ale keg - but one of the thugs misinterprets the movement, and lunges across the distance, heavy club in hand.

Of course, to get there, he has to pass within easy reach of the Knight of the Soaring Eagle.

Spoiler: OOC

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Attack of Opportunity if you want to take it Gallagher.

Spoiler: Veil & Rosalind

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Solarce takes a deep breath, then nods. His expression shows his gratitude as he turns to his superior.

"To tell the truth, it all happened too quickly. The first I knew of it was when I heard glass shatter, and smelled smoke. The next second, these things were flying in through the windows - little glass things, and when they broke, they caught fire. One hit me, and it... well, it hurt something awful, felt like being splashed with cooking oil, but everywhere at once, and then it started burning."

His description might not have the eloquence of a bards tale, but in his haunted eyes and his flame twisted face, you can see all the horror and terror of that moment. You envisage the quiet, domestic peace of the home being broken by this sudden violation; imagine the agony of flame consuming your own flesh; picture the stench of acrid smoke and cooking meat, made terrible by the knowledge it is your body that roasts.

"I got my family out before the fire could really take hold, had to force myself through the worst of the blaze to get them all. Hurt like hell, like every fiery hell the priests ever talk about in the temples. Time I got out, there was no sign of whoever did it; my home was gone, and I was in so much pain I couldn't think of nothing. Next I know, I'm here."

The officer reaches into a pouch and carefully lifts out a slender glass vial, filled with an amber fluid. Solarce pales slightly on seeing it, and nods.

"Aye, that's what it was," he confirms.

The officer holds it so you can see. You recognise it quickly enough.

Alchemist's fire.

[Timble]

The rain, Yara thought, was going to be a problem. There would be no one to ask where this wizard Calartes lived. She knew that it would be best to seek shelter and wait for the next day. On the other hand, there were many things that disturbed her that needed answering. A necromancer who either had contacts in or worked at a temple to a god of death. A magic or perhaps religious book. Yara knew she needed to know more before she could act in her best interests. Perhaps when the rain cleared she would seek out a library before finding the wizard's tower. Or perhaps she be able to seek shelter in such a library. But she didn't know the city enough to find her way. Moving forward with no clear destination in mind, Yara hoped to find suitable shelter quickly.

Spoiler: OOC

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I just remembered it was suppose to be raining really badly, so my character wouldn't be able to find the wizard's tower by asking about until the rain cleared. There are also things my character would wish to learn before acting and so she will try to seek out that information as soon as possible. But I have made it so that Yara can end up pretty much anywhere.

[gallagher]

Theo acts swiftly, if imprecisely. The kid, club in hand and rushing over the counter, attempts to get around the Knight, Theo swings out with the short blade at the end of his left gauntlet. While Theo misses, he is still well positioned between the rest of the thugs and the barkeep. Not the best situation, but here we are.

Theo goes from seated to standing with the same swiftness of his strike. Greatsword drawn and postured to strike, Theo shouts in his most intimidating battle voice - Stand down, now! Recognizing what business each of these men had in the bar, Theo thought quickly, and yelled to the youth preparing to attack the barkeep; Grabak is protected. Strike him and I will cut you in half!

[ilinares]

Spoiler: Yara

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You make your way from one shelter to the next, keeping your exposure to the elements minimal - but you still get soaked to the skin. It's horrendously cold, and you consider stopping and waiting out the storm.

There is a building close by which, incredibly, has its doors open, and a warm firelight glow comes from within. There is a sign with a floral motif, but you can see little else to tell you what might await you inside.

You also think you remember passing a library earlier, but you are uncertain whether that is what it was - or precisely where you were when you saw it. You could probably find it within an hour - but that is another hour in this.

Spoiler: Theo & Gunn

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The youth's wild swing cracks into the solid wood of the bar - but Grabak yanks his arm out of the way just in time, spraying beer over himself and the floorboards in his haste.

The sound of ringing steel as Theo draws his greatsword starts the tension levels in the room escalating wildly. Everyone stares at him, and there is a crystalline moment when everything hangs in the balance, when the room might descend into hideous violence - or when the Knight might avoid a conflict through sheer force of personality.

Spoiler: OOC

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Gallagher, roll intimidate please.
Escorcher, in case that fails, please roll initiative.