(1) Atalantia - Scourge of Magic

Game Master mdt

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'Ship' . . . 'House' . . . Connor's Log

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Anrive | The Whole Dang World | Vellandrus

Prison of the Elements


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Female Elvavian Grammaton 8

Mirandi enters her office, carrying a 75 lb metal chest against her hip, heavy thick chains wrapped around it, and multiple locks holding those chains closed. The chest itself has 3 locks on it, and the whole thing is covered in runes. She grunts with the effort needed to lift it up on her desk. "Morons." She hisses in Elven, annoyed with the effort to move the thing around. As she moves around her desk to take her chair, she eyes the chest like she would a viper, something dangerous that should not be on her desk.

With a sigh she takes her seat and leans back, looking up through the skylight that her position entitles her to, seeing the arching capital city thousands of feat up the mountain. The spires and arches flickering in and out of sight as the early morning cloud cover stirs, like a ghostly mirage.

So beautiful.. from here. What a mess up close... The woman thinks, with a cynical grunt. She adjusts her wings, the draconic leathery things an oddity in her clan, and one of the only things slowing down her advancement in rank. From here it looks like a fairy tale city, like out of those silly books the grubs write for children. She snorts at the thought.

The city is a sprawling mess, built in a hap-hazard manner over 50 mountains and hundreds of square miles, each clan having it's own Enclave, and each clan expanding as much as they can. The smaller clans already locked in, and thus having to build up or down within the mountain strongholds they already have.

It's a nightmare to keep straight, from a legal perspective, each enclave having it's own laws. At least Mirandi only has to deal with the Port rules.

From a physical standpoint, it's also a nightmare of architectural styles, each Enclave built in it's own style, over centuries, with changing tastes. It grates on the nerves of anyone who likes order, and Mirandi is very much a believer in order.

From a political standpoint, it's a never ending source of intrigue and chaos, and Mintakia does it's best to keep that pot from boiling over. Not that we succeed as often as we like to think we do... Mirandi thinks to herself, snorting again, this time in amusement.

Which brings her back to the task at hand. She returns her chair to it's upright position, and glares at the box. "Stupid dragon shtocking idiots!" She glares at the chest again, then pulls out a fresh piece of parchment and begins writing up her report.

-----------------------
10th of Madrigal, 3512 Post Unification
Report by Mirandi Selstravi 'tel Mintakia, Facilitator of Adamantia Port

There have been two deaths by magical misadventure. The first occurred at approximately the 4th bell, just about sunrise. One Murcoth Warbred, a half-orc surfaceborn cargo handler was working in the Cailath Warehouse, helping load boxes. Murcoth was apparently either drunk, or severely hung over, reports are conflicted, and he lost his balance and fell off the upper landing. The fall might have killed him, or it might not have, but it will never be known. Murcoth had a forbidden magical device on his person, which he activated when he fell. This device was what the surfaceborn call a 'magical feather token'. Unfortunately, Murcoth's activated during a high instability period, and it detonated on activation, spreading Murcoth over an area roughly 300 feet in diameter. The explosion also damaged the warehouse wall, and the concussion blast knocked over a stack of crates which toppled over and crushed a dock supervisor. The dock supervisor was killed instantly by the crates. The supervisor was Saldragan Bonewrack 'tel Sintisa 'tel Mengartha 'tel Sinestrada. His clan, and ally clans, have been notified of his death, and the circumstances around it.

Searching Murcoth's quarters, a stash of 11 more forbidden magical devices was found. The devices have been secured within a Scourge Chest, and will be sent to Ash for disposal within the day.

Mirandi Selstravi 'tel Mintakia, Facilitator, Adamantia Port


Female Elvavian Grammaton 8

Having finished her report, she melts a bit of wax, focuses her mind on it to leave her psychic imprint in the psychic wax, and completed it by pressing her seal into the psychoreactive wax.

"Mivani! Mivani! Get in here." She yells out to her assistant, and the Strix comes in, his pale white pupiless eyes expanded in surprise.

"Yes, Sera Mirandi? I did not realize you were back from the incident yet. My apologies, shall I bring you tea?" The assistant asks, his head tilting in query.

Mirandi opens her mouth to berate him, then stops, and she sighs. "Yes, Mivani, that would be welcome. My apologies, stupidity shortens my already miniscule temper." She laughs derisively. "Please see this is sent to Ser Vallin immediately, then get us both some tea. And, after that, draw up an authorization for employment and have it posted in the squares within the city, in all Enclaves. I need a handful of new recruits. There's been entirely too much magic smuggling, and the idiots have gotten familiar with all my usual personnel. I need some new faces. File a request with Ser Vallin for a Senior Administrator to do the initial screening, and I'll sneak away and interview their picks."

"Very good, Sera Mirandi." The strix nods, taking the report. "I'll see to it immediately. Shall I also arrange for...that..." He points to the chest with an expression of distaste. "...to be sent to Ash?"

Mirandi nods. "Yes, immediately, if not sooner."


Male Elvavian Enlightened Ki Mystic Monk (12)

"Ser Kalvant, Ser Vallin sent this down, he asked that you take care of it personally." Alsatia says, an impish grin on her impish face. The her lavender butterfly wings flutter rapidly as she hovers in mid air so that she can look her boss in the eye with a saucy grin. "He said you would have the best chance of picking out people that met the.. unique... requirements... assuming you hadn't gotten yourself put in jail for something." Violet eyes twinkle as she hands over the scroll, all signed and sealed with Ser Vallin's signature and psychic imprint.

Kalvant groans, rubbing his forehead. The dark haired elf reaches out blindly to grab the curtain and jerk it closed, cutting off the bright morning sunlight. One eye glares half-heartedly at the halvavian woman. "You are way too chipper at this time of the morning."

The smile grows broader. "It's 7th daybell." She comments with a smirk.

He rubs his stubbly jaw with one hand, and grunts. "In which case, you're too chipper at this time of the afternoon." He responds, but finally takes the scroll and proceeds deeper into his office. Instead of sitting on the wooden chair, he drops onto the lounging sofa, his wings sweeping up and away as he does so to drape over the back. "Fine fine fine, Rolk then, the stein, not the mug. And put some honey in it." He cracks the seal on the scroll as the mirthful halvavian flies off for the bark drink.

Let's see now, half-dozen people... trustworthy... believable as criminals... what the shtock... So people that could be crooks, but aren't and won't turn crooks... Lovely.. and I'm an expert huh... Kalvant reads over the scroll and groans, only part of it the splitting headache. He covers his eyes with his forearm and contemplates the inside of his eyelids...

"Hey, you didn't die on me did you? I don't want you smelling up the office if you did, and I don't want the paperwork either. If you're gonna die, go jump out the window first, ok?" The chiper voice pipes, a whirring sound breaking his reflections as Alsatia holds the stein of Rolk out, the pungent smell making him stir.

"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind..." He replies with a sight, taking the stein and emptying half of the scalding hot liquid down his throat in the first gulp. "Gah, less sugar next time." Sitting up, he tosses the scroll to Alsatia. "Ok, I'll get working on it. And no, don't bother posting it. Yes, it says post the job, don't do it. Amateurs, I'll put out some feelers. Advertising for undercover agents, what a concept. You ever get the feeling these people never set foot outside the Council Enclave before?"


Male Elvavian Enlightened Ki Mystic Monk (12)

The crash as the Strix in leather armor goes flying through the window is impressive, as is the whistling cry of pain and fear as it falls from the 5th story window into the alley below, it's wings tangled with the curtains. The cry cuts off with a dull whump, followed by some barely heard whimpers.

The tall heavily muscled dark haired man turns to the remaining guard, a green recruit who's holding a polearm at 45 degrees and standing in front of the double doors. He steps over the two halvavians who've had their heads slammed together and throws a flurry of blows at the rookie. His leather wrapped fists slam into the doors on either side of the rookie's head, sending splinters of wood exploding out to prick at the girl's skin. When done, the doors look ready to fall off their hinges.

He takes a half step back, and pulls the cigar from his teeth, having been kept clenched while he dealt with the riff-raff. Taking a long drag off it, he blows the smoke back out and into the rookie's already green face. "Are we done with the preliminaries now? Is Ravik in now? Or is he still out?" The man growls with tired menace.

The girl swallows. "He.. He.. He's still out ser!"

The door opens behind her, and a scar faced elvavian with scaly black wings looks out, annoyed. "Alright you shtocking idiot, you can come in. You can also pay the healer's bills for my people." The green-haired, red-winged humavian girl nearly passes out in relief as she steps aside to allow the man to enter her bosses office.

Once the doors are closed, the elf drops his look of annoyance and chuckles. "I think she pissed her pants." He says, sounding gleeful. "And I think you broke Choka's wings and arm when you threw him out the window. Thanks for that, it'll give me an excuse to send him back to Anrive, and Stalmortta will have to wriggle another spy in all over again." The elf rubs his hands together gleefully. "If I spin it right, I might get them to kill him for being stupid."

The dark haired humavian rubs his forehead. "I assume you have your silence fields up or else that girl is going to be telling them every word." He collapses into the big black chair in front of the elvavians desk. "Got any alcohol? I could use a drink after that. By the way, your standards are slipping. Those idiots couldn't have held off my baby sister."

The elf laughs a nasty laugh as he pours a drink for both of them. "Your baby sister can kick your butt all the way to Ash if she wanted." The drinks are put on the table, and the visitor is allowed to pick the one he wants, to avoid poisons. "Those shtock-ups are not my main line of defense. They're my cannon fodder. Spys from other clans, keep your enemies close and all that." He nods at the corner of the room, where part of the wall peels itself free, and a lithe elvavian with a pair of revolvers in her hands becomes visible as her psychoactive skin deactivates. She slides the pistols back into their holsters with a feral grin. "So anyway, Kalvant, what do you want before I have my best assassin kill you?"

Kalvant rolls one eye back toward the elvavian girl, and grins. "Now Now Ravik, your girl's too pretty to make me kill her by having her attack me. I didn't realize she'd grown up that much, I remember her when she was practicing garroting corpses back when we were working together on that little uprising thing." He grins at the elvavian girl, then pointedly turns his eyes back to Ravik, leaving the girl at his back nonchalantly. "Besides, I got some money to send your way. I need some people, but not your average garbage. I need people who aren't going to sell me out to the first bidder that comes along, but who are also, hmmm, how do I say it, desperate enough not to ask too many questions as long as things aren't obviously hinky. And I don't want established people, I need rookies, like that girl out there is supposed to be."

Ravik leans back in his chair, his scaley wings draping over his shoulders and the back of the chair. "Hmm, well, if you're sending money my way, I think I can talk Larissa into not killing you. Mind, she's had a crush on you for about 15 years now, so that's no small task. But I'll see what I can do." He laughs nastily, and then nods. "Yeah, I'll put out some feelers. Works well for me, the kind of folks you're looking for aren't all that useful to me as anything other than catspaws anyway." The elvavian grins. "Might as well make some money off them anyway. Now, tell me, how's that wife of yours? She still dress in those little skimpy outfits and do the whirling 7 veil flight where she..." And the elvavian is off relieving events from over a decade ago, but Kalvant has gotten the first of his contacts working for him, so he takes the next hour or so to catch up with an old... well, frenemy would be the best description.


Female Humavian Fighter (Two-Handed) (10)

The red dragon hisses and spews out a cone of fire, intending to fry it's prey. But the damnable abomination uses it's wings to avoid most of the damage, ducking low and to the side before using the momentum to drive closer to him, her wicked sword flickering out like lightning to score the dragon's hide. He roars in pain and anger, throwing curses at the abomination in draconic, almost but not quite casting a spell. Things aren't that desperate yet. The dragon does a wingover and follows the abomination, roaring defiance and swooping past the creature, it's flight much better than that of the abomination. It rakes the abomination's armor in passing, luxuriating as blood splatters his muzzle and the thing screams in pain and anger in return.

But the abomination is tougher than it looks, and despite not being as fast as the dragon, it has other secrets. Too far away to attack the dragon after it's long swooping flight, the abomination takes it's hand off it's sword, and a small object appears in it's hand. The dragon hisses in frustration, it's been on the end of that weapon before, but there's nothing it can do to avoid the agony as the small device barks like thunder, and it screams in agony again and again and again as it barks three times and three times agony lances into the dragon, the small buzzing insect bites plunging deep into his chest, sending blood spewing from it's nose.

Maddened beyond reason, and knowing it can't escape, the dragon swoops toward the abomination and grapples it, both creatures falling from the sky in a tangle of wings and blood, claws scratching and biting. The device barks again, but the dragon barely hears it before it's head jerks upward, the barrel directly against it's lower jaw, the bullet rattling around inside the draconic skull, soon joined by two others, to ensure the dragon is dead.

Jalice pushes the corpse away, and swoops away, landing back on the deck of the Albatross, dripping blood both humavian and draconic. She removes her dented helmet and tosses it to the nearby gunner, who had been keeping the big cannon's ready to fire at the dragon should it attempt to flee. "Have that repaired." She says curtly, wincing as she pulls a broken claw from her armor, the talon having been imbedded an inch into her hip since the flyby attack. Then she begins to slowly reload the backup pistol.

Clapping jerks her head up, and a lightly armored man with brown hair and wings walks up smirking. "So, you had to go deal with it personally? I'd have just shot it down with a cannon. Anything stupid enough to scout in broad daylight doesn't deserve a chance at combat."

Jalice raises one bloodied eyebrow. "Kalvant, who let you on my ship? I need to know who to have whipped." She growls, not at all a fan of the flippant Kalvant apparently. "I told you you were banned from my ships."

Kalvant hops up on the railing, his wings fluttering to keep him balanced as the ship swoops through the skys faster than he can fly. "Doesn't matter what you order when my orders come from Ser Vallin." The man laughs and tosses a scroll toward Jalice. The wind tries to rip it off into the distance, but Jalice's gun stabs out, the barrel neatly spearing the scroll in mid-air, getting some blood on the inside of the scroll, but saving it from being lost.

"Idiot..." She mutters, pulling the scroll off her pistol barrel before handing the weapon off to another gunner to be cleaned and the reloading finished. Snapping the seal, she reads over the document, and then growls. "Nothing in here says you are to come on my ship Kalvant! Get out of here!" She throws the scroll at Kalvant, but the wind snatches it and it swirls off into the air, lost.

"Now now, it says I am to use all resources to find my quarry, and you are a resource. Officially. Third Fleet is officially listed as a resource of McIntyre Enclave." Kalvant reminds her with some enjoyment.

Jalice tightens a grip on her sword pommel, but then takes a deep breath and relaxes. "Fine, I have no such people on my ships, I'd have them clipped and dropped if I did. So you have wasted a trip, unless your trip was simply to annoy me."

Kalvant shrugs. "Nope, just a perk of the job, I swear. And I didn't expect to find anyone from your ship, I came to ask you if you knew of any black sheep that might fit the bill. You deal with the families more than I do, and you get all the good gossip."

Jalice starts to growl a response, but then stops. She looks thoughtful for a moment, then shrugs. "Hmm, on second thought, I may actually know of someone that would fit your bill. For sure he's useless for anything else, sctocking idiot he is. Wouldn't wish him on my worst enemy." She smiles at Kalvant sweetly. "Fortunately you're not my worst enemy..."


Male
Latest Message:
Just to let you all know, I was travelling heavily 10/27 to 10/29, I'll be catching up on 10/30
Human GM

END OF PRELUDE

Enjoy the show folks.


Male Elvavian Enlightened Ki Mystic Monk (12)

Selvan is deep in his usual pit of self loathing, nursing a mead in a dive bar that probably put more water than honey in the barrel to make the slop. But it's cheap, and to a man with no job, and no prospects, and no family, that's enough.

"Hey! Watch where you're putting your hands you thief!" A voice calls out in rage next to Selvan's ear. As the tactician looks up with bleary eyes, the largest surface dweller he's ever seen bellows down at him. The creature is all muscles and brown hair, with a pair of onyx horns curving up out of it's head and a giant gold ring in it's bovine nose. Before Selvan has more than a second to try to place the species, it suddenly drags him up off his stool. A heavy clunk occurs as a purse full of coins falls out of Selvan's coat and on to the table. "YOU ROTTEN THIEF! HOW DARE YOU STEAL MY PURSE!" The creature bellows and drives a fist the size of Selvan's head into his face.

After that, things get blurry. Selvan is sure he got a couple of hits in, but he's not sure it did any good against the giant slab of muscle that tossed him around like a ragdoll.

Meanwhile, elsewhere...

Sammark is returning home from a long day of working the junkyard, trying to organize all the scrap hauled up in the last six months. It's hard, smelly, unappreciated work, but it's necessary. And a parolee can't exactly dictate terms on jobs. As he approaches the third rate boarding house that has become his home since his arrest, he notices that there is a lot of activity. Before he can think about what might have caused it, however, someone shouts. "THERE HE IS! GET THE MURDERER!"

Out of nowhere, a pair of heavily muscled Strix swoop over Sammark and use their feet to drive him to the ground. "MURDERER!" They scream at him as they bear him to the ground, dozens of witnesses look on in shock as the Strix peacekeepers converge on Sammark, pummeling and beating him into near unconsciousness. He get's a glimpse of a strix body, covered in blood, being hauled out of the boarding house before he loses consciousness.

Sometime later...

Water explodes over the unconscious bodies of Sammark and Selvan, bringing their battered bodies back to a state of consciousness, if not bliss.

"Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey." A male voice says sardonically. As they open their eyes against the dim light, they see a tall powerfully built Humavian with brown wings, a loose but well made adventurer's outfit, and a wrappings around both hands. "Welcome to the first day of the rest of your lives. Now, drink these, and the headaches should go away. I'd apologize for beating you up, but I just arranged it, didn't actually do it myself. And besides, both of you for different reasons earned everything that happens to you." The man tosses a couple of potions between the two before pulling out a small jug of rice wine and takes a tug off it as he sits on the dirty stone bench across from the duo. A quick look around shows they are in a jail cell, one buried deep in dark black stone with steel bars. The dim light is mostly from moss on the ceiling that glows.


Male Half-Elf HP 31/31 | PP 16/16 | AC/Touch/Flat 19 (20)/14 (15)/15 (16) | Fort/Ref/Will +4/+5/+6 | Init +4 | Per +11 | Psychic Warrior (Martial Kineticist) 4

Sam looks around blearily, the beating having taken its toll on him. Hauling himself into a sitting position despite the pounding in his head, he feels out the location of the potion. He bites the cork of the potion bottle and yanks it free before gulping the contents down. He takes a moment to regain his center as he was taught to all those years ago.

"If you did this all to lecture me about my sins then you can stow it and get in line." A faint hum emanates from him as his clothes dry out abnormally fast. "You knew enough about me to set the strix on my tail, so you should know that by causing such a gross violation of my parole and casting me in the light of a murderer, you've ruined my last shot at something approaching normalcy."

Sammark stands to his entirely unimpressive height, his clothes steaming slightly. The parole uniform he was required to wear was ratty and worn, much like the man himself. His eyes, however, remained clear and focused as the glared at his captor from between dirty brown bangs.

"So what's your game birdy? Is it time for the clannies to engage in some skullduggery? The lack of concern about the collateral damage seems to suggest so." The half-elf was furious and had exactly nothing to lose right now.

Purely in character fury BTW


Male Elfavian HP:31/31, 27/27 PP; Saves F:1 R:3 W:4, AC:17,+4 Init, +6 Perception

Selvan coughs as the water hits only half awake and nearly completely delirious from the cheap alcohol and cheaper shots to the head and sternum. The coppery taste of blood coming up and the ringing in his ears did nothing to improve his mood anymore than the insults and pain. Gripping the bottle on reflex he downs the entire contents without thought. A habit built on too much drinking and not enough caring about the contents.

As his face and ribs mended he coughed again sans the taste of blood. Selvan speaks his voice gravelly from his por condition."If I deserved that much you should have left me alone or left me for dead. Same result either way."


Male Elvavian Enlightened Ki Mystic Monk (12)

The brown winged man looks from the angry half-elf to the pathetic Elfavian, and spits at Selvan's feet. "Pathetic! You disgrace our clan even further, boy! At least the halfer here is ready to rip my head off. I get a surface grub to beat the crap out of you and all you can do is wallow in your own sorrow and filth." He looks to Sammark. "I owe you an apology, half-elf. Not for your beating or your current situation, you set yourself up for both. But for the company you keep."

The man continues, mostly ignoring Selvan for now. "As for your reputation, it was chiste anyway. And of more pressing concern as far as collateral damage is concerned is the people around you that would have gotten hurt. You were wronged, but you were also stupid. You killed the heir to Clan Stasvanna. In case you don't know the intricacies of Clan Stalmortta politics, their biggest supporter is Clan Stasvanna." He takes a deep swig off the rice wine, ignoring the steam coming off Sammark. "I have it on good authority that the Assassin's Guild refused the 1000 gold on your head because required that anyone you showed any affection for in the last year be killed and tortured before you died. They don't do torture, and the kill list wasn't specified up front. But that won't keep others from going after the bounty. So having you taken down publicly and for a verified crime is a good way to shut that down for now."

He takes another swig of his rice wine, then looks disappointedly at the bottle, as it appears to be empty. He throws the bottle at Selvan, shattering it on the stones above his head. "YOU! Get the shtock up and give me 10 minutes of calasthenics or I'm going rip your shtocking wings off and give them to the halfer!" He roars at Selvan before looking back to Sammark. "Now, you can walk out that door any time you want, halfer. A very annoyingly cheerful purple eyed woman will lead you down to a dock, put you on a merchant ship, and dump you off with a few hundred gold on the surface, where you can start all over. Or you can stay here, do the job I want done, and be publicly rehabilitated and make yourself more dangerous to Stalmortta and it's allies. You make yourself dangerous enough, you might just avoid being killed by them. Your choice. Either way, you call me birdy again and I'll kick your ass so hard you'll be tasting your own shtokas for as long as it takes you hit the ocean."


Male Half-Elf HP 31/31 | PP 16/16 | AC/Touch/Flat 19 (20)/14 (15)/15 (16) | Fort/Ref/Will +4/+5/+6 | Init +4 | Per +11 | Psychic Warrior (Martial Kineticist) 4

"What makes you think I'm worried about my death or another beating by another thug? I'd be laughing all the way to the water." His clothing dry enough for now, the hum of Sam's psionic manifestations intensified slightly as Selvan's clothes started to dry out as well. If his captor's threats worried him at all, it did not show. He actually snorted derisively at the prospect.

"I killed a bunch of winged sadists," Sammark corrected, "If you clannies practiced what you preached, they'd have already been thrown in a hole somewhere. Kind of like I am now." He walked up to the bars and tried the cell door, it was something do while he thought for a moment.

At this point in his life affection was a rather alien word to him but the closest thing to it he experienced this past year was toward his parole officer and the court appointed telepath that tried to work with him. They were both trying to fight the good fight and they should not have to pay for his mistakes. Then there was the matter of the fate of his corpse. "I assume you can get your hands on my file?"


Female Humavian Fighter (Two-Handed) (10)

Alistair of McIntyre of McRauth was not having a good day. Not that he was in a bad situation, he'd been trying to get a berth with the McIntyre Third Fleet, but without any sailing experience, he hadn't been having any luck. Not at least, until a humavian sailor had come to visit him in his small rental room. She'd given him a very good sketch of a McIntyre male, who'd been trying to scam banks and rich McIntyre folks into investing into a 'jewelry business'. He'd not managed to get anyone to fall for it, but it was explained to Alistair that McIntyre was tired of the man dragging their reputation through the mud.

Alistair was hired to follow this man, and report on his movements. He was also told that if the fool managed to get into a situation where Alistair could maneuver him into a situation where he could be arrested on some charge, that would earn him a bonus. Being CG, I'm assuming Alistair would be perfectly fine with faking up something to put a crook in jail, even if they didn't do that specific crime.

So far today, he'd followed this 'Connor' around two 4 different banks and one merchant house, each time watching him get laughed out or thrown out. Apparently he was a lousy criminal. Or maybe that was the point, maybe he was just out to embarrass McIntyre as much as possible.

Eventually a tired looking Connor stepped into a seedy looking bar, allowing Alistair to follow. Before he did so though, he whispered into the crystal he'd been give where he was, and where Connor was.

From a different perspective...

Connor's day had been long and tiring, and the back of his neck had itched all day too, which hadn't added anything good to it. He'd just about ran out of banks, and even went on to trying to get merchants to invest in his idea, all with no success. Finally, his wanderings had left him near the port, and given how light his purse was, he was forced to duck into a seedy port dive if he wanted a few ales to drown his sorrows with a cheap meal. The bar was only about half full, a late afternoon lull. He was able to get a table and some food and ale (both bad). Shortly after he arrived, another man came in and got an ale too, the man staring idly at the waitress as she moved around.

Finally a job, but not a glamorous one...

Reaghar had been trying to get work, but was not having much luck, his features were just too freakish for most clans. Even Mintakia didn't seem to want to hire him.

Until the morning he'd been packing to leave, still not sure where else he could go. A small halvavian woman with purple eyes and wings had fluttered to his flop house in the morning, wrapped in scarves. She'd been very chipper even at the crack of dawn, and given him a crystal and a sketch of someone she called 'A person of ineterest'. She said someone would attempt to hurt this person at some point today, and that if Reaghar came to his rescue and helped, she'd see to it he got a job afterwards that was more permanent.

He'd waited around all day, for word to come on the crystal of where he was supposed to go, and finally a whispered address, fortunately nearby. The deformed humavian had entered the seedy bar, which was oddly busy for late afternoon, and looked around spotting the 'person of interest'.

Strings, Strings, pulling so many strings...

"Shh, don't look at me... A small cheery voice whispers into Alistair's ear. "Go walking past the criminal, when you do, his foot is going to trip you. Deck him, and we can arrest him for starting a bar fight..."

Why is this place this popular with this food?

While Connor is choking down the barely edible swill the place calls food, he looks up and realizes that the tavern seems to be more popular than he thought, the number of people in it have nearly doubled.

Before he can figure out why they like this food, his leg jerks out, as if someone had pulled it, but no-one is there. Before he can retrieve it, a large heavily muscled humavian who's walking past him trips over it, his wings flapping out slapping multiple people in the face and head. The Large man roars, flipping Connor's table over, spraying the lousy food and drink all over, and grabs Connor by the armor and throws him itno a nearby table, spraying more food and ale.

A large malformed humavian grabs the angry man before he can drive his foot into Connor's head, and sends him into a different table.

Things devolve after that. Connor is in a bar fight, with angry patrons trying to smash his skull with wooden mugs and break chairs over his head. The malformed humavian actually guards his back through most of the fight, until a table leg to the back of the head takes him out. Shortly thereafter the original angry man is thrown into Connor by a pair of angry Strix women, who then proceed to kick the two repeatedly on the floor.

Then, the doors are bashed open, and a dozen large heavy individuals in McIntyre Shore Patrol armor come pounding into the tavern, and begin clubbing people with clubs until they surrender. The fight is over as fast as it began, and the person in charge of the patrol starts demanding who started the fight.

To Connor, Alistair, and Reaghan's varrying levels of surprise and unsurprise, most of the fingers in the bar point at the three of them. The tavern owner, fuming form the damage, points at Connor and decries him as the man who started it. The three are put in chains and led out of the tavern with many a rough word and hand.

Several hours later, still chained, sitting in a cell.

The three are reunited in a larger cell, having each spent the last two hours in a solitary cell. As the guards who moved them begin filing out of the room, a heavily armored woman comes striding in, carrying a bastard sword at her hip, and sprouting ribbons and medals on the tabbard of her plate armor. "So, what have we here? Connor? It's not enough that you humiliate your parents with your perverted desires, now you're starting bar fights? What, did one of these two refuse to pay you for your 'services'?" Jalice asks, her voice dripping with scorn. She eyes the other two, and tosses a key to Alistair. "You can release yourself, and that one as well." She jerks her chin at Reaghan. Turning back to Connor, she grins a feral grin. "This one however, my my, you know how much I enjoy having you in chains boy? All the time I spent trying to turn you into a soldier, and you'd rather arrange flowers and make pretty jewelry. What a waste of McIntyre blood."

Connor has meet Jalice before, and she's never had anything but contempt for him. Alistair and Reghear have at least heard of her enough to recognize her on site from her uniform.


Male
Stats:
HP 41/41 ()| PP 56/63| AC/Touch/Flat 18/14/14 (IA)| Fort/Ref/Will +6/+7/+8| Init +4| CMB/CMD +3/17
Humavian; white feathered wings; Psion (Shaper) 5/Psicrystal Imprinter3 ML 7
Skills:
Appraise: +6, Autohyp: +8, Bluff: +1, C: Sculpting +18/16, C: Jewelry +14/16, Dis Dev: +8/13, Diplo: +5/+9/+14, Esca Art: +5, Fly: +10, Heal: +3
Skills-cont:
K:Dun/Eng/Geo/Nat/Nob/Psi/Rel/ThePlanes +9, Linguistics +6, Percep +8 (+6 w/o psicrystal), Pro:Gem +5, Pro:Sail +10, Psicraft: +16, Sense Mo: +3/1, Surv: +4, Swim: +1, UPD: +4

"A gem-olo-gist." Connor mumbled through a split lip, aching jaw, and what felt like bruises that would turn his right cheek black-and-blue in the morning. "I can find the stones in ore as well as cut them and put them into jewelry." He looked up at the armored woman. "I keep telling you all, there's more to life than sword and shield. Than dying on the battlefield or an airship being boarded."

"Besides," Connor added, looking sideways at the two thugs, "I didn't start it, and I didn't make it worse. I think I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time." Making excuses was always futile at the McIntyre dinner table each night. As usual, there had been no one to come to his defense. Well, one of the two men in the cell with him had tried to help him in the fight.

He reached out with his mind, trying to find his other self, the one in the gemstone, the first jewel he had pried out of raw rock a month ago. Hero. Connor sent. Where are you? Pretty much everything but his clothes had been taken at the jailhouse when the Patrol had hauled all three of them inside.


"I'M IN A BOX! I'M IN A BOX! I DON'T LIKE BEING IN A BOX! LET ME OUT OF THE BOX! DID I MENTION I DON'T LIKE BEING IN A BOX! IT HAS FOUR WALLS, A LID, AND A FLOOR! I CAN TOUCH ALL SIX OF THEM AT THE SAME TIME! IT IS A VERY SMALL BOX! AND AN ANNOYING PURPLE EYED PURPLE WINGED HALVAVIAN WHO PUT ME IN HERE! SHE SAID I WAS CUTE AND PUT ME IN A BOX! I DO NOT LIKE HER! GET ME OUT OF THIS BOX! DID I MENTION I AM IN A BOX AND I DO NOT LIKE BOXES!?!"

The commentary on the box, the size of it, the annoying woman who put Hero in the box, and the felt on the inside of the box continues nearly nonstop.


Male
Stats:
HP 41/41 ()| PP 56/63| AC/Touch/Flat 18/14/14 (IA)| Fort/Ref/Will +6/+7/+8| Init +4| CMB/CMD +3/17
Humavian; white feathered wings; Psion (Shaper) 5/Psicrystal Imprinter3 ML 7
Skills:
Appraise: +6, Autohyp: +8, Bluff: +1, C: Sculpting +18/16, C: Jewelry +14/16, Dis Dev: +8/13, Diplo: +5/+9/+14, Esca Art: +5, Fly: +10, Heal: +3
Skills-cont:
K:Dun/Eng/Geo/Nat/Nob/Psi/Rel/ThePlanes +9, Linguistics +6, Percep +8 (+6 w/o psicrystal), Pro:Gem +5, Pro:Sail +10, Psicraft: +16, Sense Mo: +3/1, Surv: +4, Swim: +1, UPD: +4

Connor groaned, masking the telepathic shout echoing in his head. Enough, Hero. He snapped. Heroes don't complain. Persevere. Ugh. He sounded like his uncle. Connor turned his attention back to his clanmember. Former clanmember, he reminded himself, glancing at his nondescript clothing missing his McIntyre colors.


Nobody asked me if I wanted to be a hero... The response comes back, subdued but sulky. I wanted to be an amulet... a nice bright flashy amulet... worn by a woman with big breasts... The stone mutters sulkily. Instead I'm a 'Hero'. How come you get to pick me as a 'hero' when all you want to be is a Miner? But then the voice subsides into a sulky silence.

...

I hate boxes...


Male Humavian HP 31/31 | AC/Touch/Flat 13/10/13 | Fort: +8 Ref: +1 Will: +3 | Init: +1 | Perception +6|Barbarian 1/Aegis 1

Alister nods as he's thrown the key, unlocking first his own chains, and after a second or so of hesitation, looking into Reaghan's eyes, unlocks his as well. "Well I didn't think this would turn out this interesting," he mumbles, turning back to Jalice and breathing in deeply, bowing. He winces slightly, ribs bruised by the Strix women who'd thrown him into the smaller man.

"So I guess I can trace the job back to you, if I'm bein' released, then? Glad I could be of service, then," he says, not liking to bow to a woman, but nevertheless knowing he's in over his head, or at least, in no position for his usual lack of care.


temp HP:9, +2 dmg 3 mins HP (21/21) | AC/Touch/Flat 19/15/14 | Fort/Ref/Will +2/+8/+3 | Init +5 | Per +6 | Brutal Disruptor (3)

Glad to have the chains off of his wrists, Reaghar stands and leaves his cell. "I was just trying to keep this guy from getting killed." he said, pointing to the one still locked up. "As down as everyone seems to be on him, I wouldn't be surprised if he was set up."


Female Humavian Fighter (Two-Handed) (10)

As Reaghar talks about someone being set up, there's a small ghost of a giggle from somewhere nearby. Jalice merely raises one eyebrow, then shrugs. "I have no care if he was set up or not. If I had my preferences, I'd toss him onto a merchant vessel and have him exiled." She shrugs. "But, I have a problem that someone I really really don't like dropped in my lap. I can't think of any way to repay him more fully than to dump Connor in his lap, they deserve each other." She reaches into her pouch, and draws out a packet of papers, throwing them in Connor's lap. "Connor, you have two choices. You can get a free ride to any Surface port you want, my treat. Otherwise, you get publicly branded a drunkard and troublemaker, and nobody will give you the time of day. You'll be a pariah. Just like these two." She nods to Alistair and Reaghan.

Turning to those two, she pulls separate packets out, and hand them the packets. "I was asked to give you these, contracts from Mintakan Security. You'll both be transferred to the general prison after you sign them, and spend a week or two before your trial comes up. After paying your fines, you'll have a record, which should make you hard to employ. Given both of your backgrounds, nobody should think twice about you turning to crime. The packet has information on blind drops, and some coin stashes for emergencies." She tells the other two, also handing over a small pen and ink kit. "You both have 24 hours to memorize that information before we transfer you to general population. Someone's smuggling in magic items and selling them to the grubs in the port. We've had 7 deaths in the last month. Find out who's smuggling the magic items, and let Mintakan Security know who and where. They'll rehabilitate you after you've gotten the smugglers, records expunged. If you don't want the jobs, you'll be released in the morning."

Finally she turns back to Connor, as if she'd forgotten he was there. "Oh, I suppose you can tag along, learn from your betters, if you'd rather not get exiled. Maybe if you do a good job Mintakia will get one of their ally humavian clans to take you in. Who knows, maybe one with flower arrangers?"

Turning back to Reaghar and Alistair, she begins putting her gauntlets back own, which had been tucked into her belt. "Any questions?"


Male Elfavian HP:31/31, 27/27 PP; Saves F:1 R:3 W:4, AC:17,+4 Init, +6 Perception

Selvan flinched at the words. Those stung more than any number of punches he recieved the night before. Oh and then there were the kicks. He never knew he had so many ribs to break.

He didn't even offer a response verbally his mind was too clouded and full of questions as is. Instead his body acted reflexively and simply went through the exercises clumsily as sobreity began to demand its debt on his body. A nobler part of him wanted to throttle the man to death where he stood. But another voice in his mind, too much like his fathers was barking insults that would make this moments humiliation seem like a shower of beatific praise.


temp HP:9, +2 dmg 3 mins HP (21/21) | AC/Touch/Flat 19/15/14 | Fort/Ref/Will +2/+8/+3 | Init +5 | Per +6 | Brutal Disruptor (3)

Reaghar looks at the packet, memorizing the information. Binding information to and from patterns had always come easy to him.

"Just one question. Is the whole business with prison to get us criminal backgrounds so we can be more believable as smugglers, or just because we are all so prison-happy?"


Male Elvavian Enlightened Ki Mystic Monk (12)

Kalvant watches the half-drunk, but sobering Selven begin to work the booze out of his system, then turns his gaze back to Sammark. "Yes, I have your files. We've been having trouble with idiots smuggling magic items into the port recently. A lot of people have died. More will, unless we get a handle on who and why. I looked over your records, and I thought you'd be a good choice. You already have a criminal record, and all you needed was a public display to make you look even more desperate." He nods at Selvan. "This one killed his own men out of stupidity and pride. He used to have potential. The clan's giving him a chance to prove he's learned his lesson. Otherwise, it's exile for him. You too, if you don't want to do it." He pulls a packet of papers from his wasteband, checks the name on them, and hands them over to Sammark. "Sign those, and you're working for Mintakan Security. There's dead drop information, and coin caches listed as well. If you decline, yell for a guard and you'll be taken to a merchant ship to get you off the island. If you don't call for a guard by morning, you'll be transferred to a prison ship. Your guards will make a mistake along the way, knock them out. Don't worry about hurting them, they think they're being paid by the Stalmortta clan to release you so they can capture and kill you. If this one sobers up, explain the deal to him as well, I'm not waiting around for him to sober up enough to be coherent." He tosses a second packet of papers on the ground near Selven's feet.

Looking back to Sammark, he crosses his arms on his chest. "Any questions, halfer?"


Female Humavian Fighter (Two-Handed) (10)

Jalice looks at Reaghar, then shrugs. It's a minimal motion, given her plate mail. "I'm military, not espionage. I would assume so, I certainly would trust someone who was just out of prison more than some guy with bad blood. But a guy with bad blood who just got out of prison? Yeah, that's even better. But what do I know, I wanted to just go door to door through the port and chop the head off of anyone with magic items in their home. After the first 30 or 40 corpses on pikes, people would lose their taste for magic." The woman says in an aggravated voice. "Anyway, it's your choice, if you don't want the job, just head on out."

GM - Yes, the prison stuff is to make you more palatable to the criminal underground.


temp HP:9, +2 dmg 3 mins HP (21/21) | AC/Touch/Flat 19/15/14 | Fort/Ref/Will +2/+8/+3 | Init +5 | Per +6 | Brutal Disruptor (3)

"Eh, I need the money, and as long as the prison piece is for a good reason, then I'm in."


Male Half-Elf HP 31/31 | PP 16/16 | AC/Touch/Flat 19 (20)/14 (15)/15 (16) | Fort/Ref/Will +4/+5/+6 | Init +4 | Per +11 | Psychic Warrior (Martial Kineticist) 4

The prospects of leaving the island with no strings attached did appeal to Sammark but there were a few responsibilities he had left on this island.

"My last will and testament should be sealed in that file. I had the prison chaplain and my parole officer witness and notarize it. You agree to see it through since I ain't in their care anymore and you have yourself a criminal."


Male Elvavian Enlightened Ki Mystic Monk (12)

Kalvant nods. "I'll do my best, provided there's nothing illegal in the last requests." He responds, holding out a hand. "I haven't read the will, so I'll trust your word on it. I don't break such seals without the person being dead. Alcinea may not watch over us, but we all eventually meet her. I'd rather not meet her and get asked why I violated sanctified wills." He chuckles lightly.


Male Humavian HP 31/31 | AC/Touch/Flat 13/10/13 | Fort: +8 Ref: +1 Will: +3 | Init: +1 | Perception +6|Barbarian 1/Aegis 1

"I wouldn't have minded to go along with your method, myself," Alister says, sighing. "But if you want a criminal, you've got yourself a criminal," he says, smiling a wide, toothy grin.


Male Half-Elf HP 31/31 | PP 16/16 | AC/Touch/Flat 19 (20)/14 (15)/15 (16) | Fort/Ref/Will +4/+5/+6 | Init +4 | Per +11 | Psychic Warrior (Martial Kineticist) 4

Sammark ignores the offered hand but does sign the papers putting him in service to Mintakan Security.

"Good," the half-elf says simply, "It is done." It was obvious that he trusted the clanner about as far as he could throw him without the aid of his psionics but he would take the man's word for now.


Male
Stats:
HP 41/41 ()| PP 56/63| AC/Touch/Flat 18/14/14 (IA)| Fort/Ref/Will +6/+7/+8| Init +4| CMB/CMD +3/17
Humavian; white feathered wings; Psion (Shaper) 5/Psicrystal Imprinter3 ML 7
Skills:
Appraise: +6, Autohyp: +8, Bluff: +1, C: Sculpting +18/16, C: Jewelry +14/16, Dis Dev: +8/13, Diplo: +5/+9/+14, Esca Art: +5, Fly: +10, Heal: +3
Skills-cont:
K:Dun/Eng/Geo/Nat/Nob/Psi/Rel/ThePlanes +9, Linguistics +6, Percep +8 (+6 w/o psicrystal), Pro:Gem +5, Pro:Sail +10, Psicraft: +16, Sense Mo: +3/1, Surv: +4, Swim: +1, UPD: +4

Making the assumption that the packet Connor was handed has the same information, and dotted line, as the other two?

Connor started reading the papers. Mintakan Security. He was being used, and not in a nice way. "Prison or exile, just for being different." he muttered to himself. "Heck of a choice." Prison meant he could come back. Exile to the Surface was a different matter. The papers had sparse details about forbidden magic items. Places in the city he had never been to before. He had no reason to go to those places before.

Connor looked up at Jalice in her steel armor. "You do realize," he drawled, "I'm going to charge you triple for any gem orders in the future because of this." The white-winged man looked at the other two patsies in the aristocrats' plan. The deformed one had red eyes. Red! "Assuming the general prison population doesn't pull my feathers off," he asked, "are we free to use our psionics as we see fit once we get back out? Because people willing to use magic usually don't have any qualms about mind powers verses muscle when things go sour."


Female Humavian Fighter (Two-Handed) (10)

Jalice looks down at Connor with disdain. "I'm sure I will find someone else to do any flower arranging I need. And I assume you can use your awesome and indescribably terrifying flower arranging esper ability to take over Atalantiaport when you are released." She says with a droll air. "I'm sure you'll be the terror of the tea garden scene. As to keeping your feathers in the prison, I suggest you tell everyone you belong to him..." She nods toward Reaghar. "...He looks nasty enough I doubt anyone will kill you for at least a week or two while they decide if he's scary enough to keep a pretty thing like you." She finishes tugging her second gauntlet on, and collects any signed papers. She nods at Rheagar and Alistair. "Good luck to you two, I suggest using him as a human shield if things turn south. It'll be the most use you get out of him." And with that she's gone.

Feel free to RP amongst yourselves, you're sharing a cell till morning, and yes, it's the same packet, other than a partially filled in will that Jalice added to Connor's, which lists all his earthly belongings on it along with a missive to have his ashes scattered in a flower garden.


Male
Stats:
HP 41/41 ()| PP 56/63| AC/Touch/Flat 18/14/14 (IA)| Fort/Ref/Will +6/+7/+8| Init +4| CMB/CMD +3/17
Humavian; white feathered wings; Psion (Shaper) 5/Psicrystal Imprinter3 ML 7
Skills:
Appraise: +6, Autohyp: +8, Bluff: +1, C: Sculpting +18/16, C: Jewelry +14/16, Dis Dev: +8/13, Diplo: +5/+9/+14, Esca Art: +5, Fly: +10, Heal: +3
Skills-cont:
K:Dun/Eng/Geo/Nat/Nob/Psi/Rel/ThePlanes +9, Linguistics +6, Percep +8 (+6 w/o psicrystal), Pro:Gem +5, Pro:Sail +10, Psicraft: +16, Sense Mo: +3/1, Surv: +4, Swim: +1, UPD: +4

Connor studied the sheaf of papers, using the autohypnotic skill he had been taught in the aristocratic secondary school of his youth. He signed on the dotted line, sighing as he noted the pre-listed cremation.

Autohypnosis: Memorize (DC 15) 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17

Connor turned to better look at the two others in the cell. "Connor, formerly of Clan McIntyre." he said by way of introduction. "You can guess that the separation wasn't amiable." The young man with white wings looked pointedly at the key in the normal-looking man's (Alister) hands.


Male Humavian HP 31/31 | AC/Touch/Flat 13/10/13 | Fort: +8 Ref: +1 Will: +3 | Init: +1 | Perception +6|Barbarian 1/Aegis 1

Alister looks through the papers, then signs, handing the papers to Jalice. As she turns to leave, he turns to the other two in the cell with him. "Alister, of McIntyre of McRauth," he says, scratching his chin.

After a short time of examining Connor, he chuckles, and goes to unlock his chains. "What's the worst he could do?" he reasons, smiling snidely.


temp HP:9, +2 dmg 3 mins HP (21/21) | AC/Touch/Flat 19/15/14 | Fort/Ref/Will +2/+8/+3 | Init +5 | Per +6 | Brutal Disruptor (3)

"Reaghar of Donough. Looks as if we've just signed on as pawns in someone's game."


Male Elfavian HP:31/31, 27/27 PP; Saves F:1 R:3 W:4, AC:17,+4 Init, +6 Perception

Selvan continues through his exercises a half ear cocked in their direction. Again a nobler part of him wanted to scoop the broken end of the bottle as he bent over and carve a long essay on the importance of politeness and manners into the mans face. He remembered it well. He was forced to memorize the 5,000 word essay word for word.


Male Elvavian Enlightened Ki Mystic Monk (12)

Mintakia Plot

Kalvant waits for any other questions for a few moments, then looks disapopinted at Selvan, as if he had failed a test of some kind. "Ok, I'm done here. Halfer, you have until dawn. At dawn, someone will come in and put inhibitors on you. Then the guards for the transfer will come in, change them for new ones, and take you to the ship. Make sure you escape before you reach the prison ship. If either of you aren't here in the morning, have a good life on the surface." He then turns and stalks out of the cell, opening and closing the door behind him.

You may RP amongst yourselves for the next 24 hours real time, I'll advance your plot after giving you that time to RP


Male
Latest Message:
Just to let you all know, I was travelling heavily 10/27 to 10/29, I'll be catching up on 10/30
Human GM

McIntyre Plot

I'll further your plot tomorrow, wanted to give you a day to RP with each other.


Male Half-Elf HP 31/31 | PP 16/16 | AC/Touch/Flat 19 (20)/14 (15)/15 (16) | Fort/Ref/Will +4/+5/+6 | Init +4 | Per +11 | Psychic Warrior (Martial Kineticist) 4

"Cut that out," Sam said to his cellmate once the clanner was gone, "You're embarrassing me. The minute you admit that a bird-brain like that has you by the short hairs, you've already lost. Show some backbone next time. What's the worst that can happen? He yells at you? Beats you up?"


Male
Stats:
HP 41/41 ()| PP 56/63| AC/Touch/Flat 18/14/14 (IA)| Fort/Ref/Will +6/+7/+8| Init +4| CMB/CMD +3/17
Humavian; white feathered wings; Psion (Shaper) 5/Psicrystal Imprinter3 ML 7
Skills:
Appraise: +6, Autohyp: +8, Bluff: +1, C: Sculpting +18/16, C: Jewelry +14/16, Dis Dev: +8/13, Diplo: +5/+9/+14, Esca Art: +5, Fly: +10, Heal: +3
Skills-cont:
K:Dun/Eng/Geo/Nat/Nob/Psi/Rel/ThePlanes +9, Linguistics +6, Percep +8 (+6 w/o psicrystal), Pro:Gem +5, Pro:Sail +10, Psicraft: +16, Sense Mo: +3/1, Surv: +4, Swim: +1, UPD: +4

"Thanks." Connor tells Alister.

"Pawns advance in the game, however." Connor replied. "I think we have a week in prison to look forward to, then. Followed by a lecture from a judge and being released in the city. After which," the man looked at his two cellmates again, "we become flea-bitten hunting dogs."

Connor considered that Jalice had mentioned a fine. He'd have to sell his "dinner outfit". Not that he could wear it now. His Clanless colors didn't need a reminder of his past.

"Clan McRauth I recognize," Connor told the man who unlocked his chains, "but not Donough." the white-winged man said to the other person. "I'm a gemologist, as you heard me tell our honorable contact. Assuming we get our backpacks and stuff back," and a certain psicrystal he thought to himself, "I'm clueless as what to do next."


temp HP:9, +2 dmg 3 mins HP (21/21) | AC/Touch/Flat 19/15/14 | Fort/Ref/Will +2/+8/+3 | Init +5 | Per +6 | Brutal Disruptor (3)

"well I suppose it doesnt matter too much. Theyre a serious folk. I got booted out because I am not prime breeding stock. Suits me, im not in to the whole 'get a job get married have kids them die' kind of life."


Male
Stats:
HP 41/41 ()| PP 56/63| AC/Touch/Flat 18/14/14 (IA)| Fort/Ref/Will +6/+7/+8| Init +4| CMB/CMD +3/17
Humavian; white feathered wings; Psion (Shaper) 5/Psicrystal Imprinter3 ML 7
Skills:
Appraise: +6, Autohyp: +8, Bluff: +1, C: Sculpting +18/16, C: Jewelry +14/16, Dis Dev: +8/13, Diplo: +5/+9/+14, Esca Art: +5, Fly: +10, Heal: +3
Skills-cont:
K:Dun/Eng/Geo/Nat/Nob/Psi/Rel/ThePlanes +9, Linguistics +6, Percep +8 (+6 w/o psicrystal), Pro:Gem +5, Pro:Sail +10, Psicraft: +16, Sense Mo: +3/1, Surv: +4, Swim: +1, UPD: +4

"Oh, that Clan. The smiths." Connor acknowledged. "I suspect that's the one my family wanted to marry me off into." he shuddered at the thought. "Well, Clan Mintakia's not bad, for the Elfavians." Conner said.

The young man looked around their large cell. "I guess here we stay until the guards are ready to move us." he grumbled.


Male Elfavian HP:31/31, 27/27 PP; Saves F:1 R:3 W:4, AC:17,+4 Init, +6 Perception
Sammark Bellefont wrote:
"Cut that out," Sam said to his cellmate once the clanner was gone, "You're embarrassing me. The minute you admit that a bird-brain like that has you by the short hairs, you've already lost. Show some backbone next time. What's the worst that can happen? He yells at you? Beats you up?"

"Don't comment on things you know nothing about halfer!" Selvan says suddenly irritable partly from stress and partly from his own inner rage. Continuing his work out just as much to work off that anger as run from his misery he added. "A beating would be the least of things done to us. You'd be lucky. They'd just kill you and dump you off the island as just another executed prisoner."


Male Half-Elf HP 31/31 | PP 16/16 | AC/Touch/Flat 19 (20)/14 (15)/15 (16) | Fort/Ref/Will +4/+5/+6 | Init +4 | Per +11 | Psychic Warrior (Martial Kineticist) 4

"Sorry, mate, thought you were better than him as opposed to another bird," Sammark says off-handedly. He starts pacing in front of the bars of the cell, waiting.


Male Elfavian HP:31/31, 27/27 PP; Saves F:1 R:3 W:4, AC:17,+4 Init, +6 Perception

After exactly ten minutes of calisthenics Selvan collapses to the floor heaving slightly as he picks up the paperwork and starts to go through it. His mind had started work cleaner and a sharper part of him was working out a dozen different ways this might end. Sadly, most of those were unpleasant to him to say the least.

He took apart the documents carefully noting every little trap phrase, every binding word. Paper was meaningless on the battlefield but this was a different sort of battlefield. One with shadows and lies. A disgraced student of war and a crippled miscreant. Not terribly clever all things told but who would ever believe them?

basically looking for the gist of the documents tossed at me but also looking for any scary lines or phrases


Male
Latest Message:
Just to let you all know, I was travelling heavily 10/27 to 10/29, I'll be catching up on 10/30
Human GM

I have a game tonight I need to prepare for, so I'll post plot updates either late tonight (after midnight CST) or in the morning, depending on how tired I am after the game lets out. Last game was a month ago due to cancellations. They are in an arena battle, and they managed to hose up by the numbers last game. They started 6 to 4, 6 level 11's vs 4 level 12s. Now it's 5 vs 4, and their big hitter spent the whole fight so far trapped in an acid pit.


Male Humavian HP 31/31 | AC/Touch/Flat 13/10/13 | Fort: +8 Ref: +1 Will: +3 | Init: +1 | Perception +6|Barbarian 1/Aegis 1

"Aye... So then, I take it that, since the point of this is to get us criminal backgrounds, you were actually tryin' ta get people to invest?" he asks Connor, watching the smaller man warily, his umber wings flapping slightly.

"And I sure as hell hope we'll be getting our packs and s#&t back, wouldn't want to lose that. I've not got a lot on me, but some o' it's important to me," he finishes scratching his chin.


Male
Stats:
HP 41/41 ()| PP 56/63| AC/Touch/Flat 18/14/14 (IA)| Fort/Ref/Will +6/+7/+8| Init +4| CMB/CMD +3/17
Humavian; white feathered wings; Psion (Shaper) 5/Psicrystal Imprinter3 ML 7
Skills:
Appraise: +6, Autohyp: +8, Bluff: +1, C: Sculpting +18/16, C: Jewelry +14/16, Dis Dev: +8/13, Diplo: +5/+9/+14, Esca Art: +5, Fly: +10, Heal: +3
Skills-cont:
K:Dun/Eng/Geo/Nat/Nob/Psi/Rel/ThePlanes +9, Linguistics +6, Percep +8 (+6 w/o psicrystal), Pro:Gem +5, Pro:Sail +10, Psicraft: +16, Sense Mo: +3/1, Surv: +4, Swim: +1, UPD: +4

"Yes!" Connor laughed, as the reasons for the other men being in the cell with them dawned on him. "They told you I was pulling a scam?" Connor shook his head in disbelief. "And here I was hoping to start a business!"

"Here we are, birds of a feather, caged together." Connor finished.


Male
Latest Message:
Just to let you all know, I was travelling heavily 10/27 to 10/29, I'll be catching up on 10/30
Human GM

Time passes for the McIntyre Plot

Time in prison isn't as bad as they might have expected. This is mainly due to the trio spending the next two weeks on The Maizy Mallard, a prison ship that hauls the trio (and over 200 other low risk criminals) around to various places and forces them to do community service. Mostly this means cleaning Half-Elf Gang graffitti off buildings, or harvesting the farms or doing repairs on the houses of Military Dependents (Usually surviving Spouses of those who died in the line of duty).

Nothing is all that complex, but it's sometimes hard work. And work made all the harder by a lack of psionics for those who are psionic. There are some incidents with other prisoners, but the fact the trio is a trio seems to insulate them from most of the pecking order in the group of prisoners. Only a few fistfights, enough for the others to gauge the relative strength of the trio to establish rank.

After two and a half weeks of hard labor, the trio finally get their time in front of a judge. A public defender, a halvavian from a small clan none of the 3 have ever heard of, takes 10 minutes to get their story (and seems to ignore most of it). In court, he claims you were all just drinking ales together when the fight started, and it's a case of mistaken identity. The judge ignores him, spends 30 minutes brow beating the trio and then issues a fine and time served. The fine is, oddly enough, just covered by the cash the trio had on them, while leaving each with exactly one copper piece.

The rest of their equipment is grudgingly returned, finally. And then the trio stand on the street side outside the Judicial Building in Council Enclave, broke, and with freshly inked patents of release for Criminal Mischief, Public Intoxication, Destruction of Private Property, and Being Stupid. Well, that last charge was actually 'Public Brawling', but it's generally considered 'being stupid' by their new friends on the prison gang. Not the brawling part, that's considered fun, it's the getting caught doing it.

The trio have a memorized list of dead drops, gold cache's (two holding 100gp, and one holding 1000 gp, for each operative), and suggested starting points.

A) The Docks - The magic items have to be coming in on ships, theoretically. And even if they aren't coming through the docks, a lot of grunt grubs work the docks and want their magic items.

B) Council Enclave's Southern Quarter - This is the lowest of the low rent dives of Adalantia City. Brothels, drug dens (legal and illegal), pawn shops, and low-rent surface style housing for grubs, fill this section of the Enclave. It's near the docks.

C) Reville Enclave - Reville Enclave has it's own private docks, and the piratical clan has a reputation for shaving a law until it squeals and bleeds. It's entirely possible, in Mintakan Security's eyes that Clan Reville (or at least, the less scrupulous parts of it, if that's possible) might be involved. Reville Enclave is open, so anyone can enter and leave it (makes it easier to smuggle things in and out), and Mintakan Security has only a tenuous presence there.

Let me know what you all decide on as far as a place to start


Male
Stats:
HP 41/41 ()| PP 56/63| AC/Touch/Flat 18/14/14 (IA)| Fort/Ref/Will +6/+7/+8| Init +4| CMB/CMD +3/17
Humavian; white feathered wings; Psion (Shaper) 5/Psicrystal Imprinter3 ML 7
Skills:
Appraise: +6, Autohyp: +8, Bluff: +1, C: Sculpting +18/16, C: Jewelry +14/16, Dis Dev: +8/13, Diplo: +5/+9/+14, Esca Art: +5, Fly: +10, Heal: +3
Skills-cont:
K:Dun/Eng/Geo/Nat/Nob/Psi/Rel/ThePlanes +9, Linguistics +6, Percep +8 (+6 w/o psicrystal), Pro:Gem +5, Pro:Sail +10, Psicraft: +16, Sense Mo: +3/1, Surv: +4, Swim: +1, UPD: +4

Using Discussion thread for deciding where to start.


Male
Latest Message:
Just to let you all know, I was travelling heavily 10/27 to 10/29, I'll be catching up on 10/30
Human GM

The next morning, Selvan and Sammark are approached by a single guard who makes a quiet entrance, says nothing and doesn't respond to questions, and who puts psionic inhibitors on both prisoners. He then leaves, and locks the door behind him. The inhibitor's are shiny and are built as forearm cuffs that are chained together with a 4 inch piece of chain.

A couple of hours later, a 5 guard contingent returns, sans the morning guard, and begin rousting Selvan and Sammark. They replace the inhibitors with new ones that belong to the prison the two are headed for, rather than the ones that belong to the holding station.

The two notice that while they work fine at first, as they are marched through the holding center, the inhibitors begin to flicker, the connections on the bracelet being old and worn, so they don't hold very well.

Once outside the center, the two are loaded onto a small sailcraft (a 20 ft skimmer with a single sail). The skimmer is pulled into the air by a single Humavian who tows it behind him, a harness leading from him to the skimmer's bow. The two guards sit on either side of Selvan and Sammark (one in the bow of the skimmer, and one in the stern). The guards seem to be paying more attention to the scenery than the two criminals. Both Sammark and Selvan can tell just by looking at their inhibitors that if they seriously strained they'd be able to break them free (DC 15 Str check to break the inhibitor's latches).


Male Elfavian HP:31/31, 27/27 PP; Saves F:1 R:3 W:4, AC:17,+4 Init, +6 Perception

Anything nearby I can wrap around to gain some leverage? Selvan's stong but also smart.

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