GM Zimmer's Curse of the Crimson Throne (Inactive)

Game Master zimmerwald1915

The king is dead! In the Varisian port city of Korvosa, the death of a monarch leads to chaos. It's up to a band of bold adventurers to stop the spread of tyranny before all of Korvosa is crushed beneath the queen's iron fist.


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Hey folks,

I haven't done PBP in Pathfinder yet, but I've played in a few others over the years for other systems. It looks like this could be a really cool group.

Edit: Forgot my familiar. :)

Character Intro:

This city…” Marduzi Halfelven thinks, “This city is all smoke and mirrors.

They say this is city is devoted to upholding the law, to tradition and aggrandizement of the worthy. Not a one like it out to be.” A rowdy pack of young nobles hurry past, hooting and laughing, out of place along the Narrows. Their bright clothes and gaudy jewelry are the only source of color in the dismal light underneath the Shingles.

It’s aggrandizement of the few at the expense of the many. The sad thing? The masses are too tradition bound to do anything even when criminals have their way with the few honest folk. Pathetic…

Above him the walls of the old Fort Korvasa rise dark and foreboding. “Whoever made those walls had a sense of irony… how appropriate they loom over this part of the city.” Marduzi grimaces and then chuckles at his own gallows humor. The slight half-elf turns, crosses quickly over the narrows into the North Point district, a twinge of anger, regret and hatred gripping him as his gaze falls briefly on the Acadamae.

I was at home there, sad as that is, me a gutter rat amongst the jeweled sons and daughters of Korvasa… worthless all of them, but there nonetheless.” He turns his eyes away, anger building into a clenched fist in his chest. “And I owe it to one most of all, that scum Lann. He framed me… and even after Zumak cleared my name… those haughty bastards threw me out, rather than risk their precious reputation.

Marduzi forced himself to breath slowly through his clenched teeth, thoughts of his one friend breaking his rage. He paused, looking around and realized he’d stopped, and that he was drawing attention. Passersby were glancing at him furtively, obviously a little unnerved by his expression. He forced himself to calmness, focusing on a mental ball of light, his own personal “Brightness”.

Wouldn’t do to draw attention to myself… I suppose I do have one thing to thank this miserable city for,” he thought, smiling slightly. “It made me realize that the world is all smoke and mirrors. An illusion, save what reality I can find. I gotta’ hang on to what little goodness I’ve found in that.

Nearing his destination, he cut down a side alley, leaving the main thoroughfare behind. Winding his way through the poorly lit alley, he saw the hole-in-the-wall tavern his halfling friend insisted on frequenting. “Godawful place… out of the way, I’ll give Zumak that.” Marduzi murmured, pushing open the door and searching for his diminutive friend.

He spotted him, quickly, sitting in a back corner, the faint haze of smoke far from enough to obscure the riot of his Halfling friend’s clothing. Zumak smiled and waved him over.

Ah, my dear friend, good to see you kept that glower up. You might actually scare me off one of these days,” the halfling teased as the half-elf settled into a creaking chair.

How are you, M? Ready to start earning some money as my prime distraction?”

I did that to get out of the slums, you’re on your own pilferer…

The halfling ignored him, “What? No! No is not an acceptable answer! What else are you gonna do with your time anyway?

Marduzi Halfelven slowly turned to look at his friend, not speaking. Under the intensely pointed gaze, his friend’s smile died and he grimaced, “You're crazy M, you know that.

Not so sure it’s me that’s crazy, Zumak.

"I can guarantee you're crazy elf-man. But you know that Lamm is bound to have more enemies then you, right? Wait long enough and, poof, he disappears! Problem solved.

Maybe Z, just maybe you're right. But somehow I doubt it.

Character Background:

Marduzi Halfelven is the illegitimate child of a human noble and a member of the Mienari enclave. He was abandoned by his parents, their identities unknown, in the care of an orphanage in Old Korvosa. No clue remains to him, his name being a common Virisian man’s name.

His half-elven heritage marked him as a target for every would-be thug and he quickly became a master of mistrust. After being thrown out of an orphanage at a mere fourteen, he turned to begging to survive. The wealth around him combined with the obvious disdain and condescension of the nobility he was forced to beg to, only served to inflame his cynical worldview.

In order to survive, Marduzi took to helping performing street wizards of little skill with their shows. In short order, he discovered his aptitude for their minor illusions and lesser magic. Before long he would begin to earn his keep by performing himself. Before long, he had befriended a young Halfling pickpocket, his one and only friend. Both Zumak and Marduzi grew dissatisfied with the slim pickings from working on their own. In a flash of inspiration, they began to work together, stealing from Marduzi’s crowd to earn their meals. The obvious wealth of many of their patrons cemented Marduzi’s disdain for the wealthy and powerful. As the act continued, young Halfelven’s skills grew in fits and spurts as he learned from other wizard buskers.

It was not long before Marduzi caught the eye of an Acadamae wizard, beginning his all too brief training. Showing incredible aptitude, Marduzi quickly mastered a variety of spellcraft, showing a particular aptitude for the illusions that had been his breadwinner. It was not long, before fate took a final swing at him.

Branded a murderer, his fate looked grim until Zumak was able to speak with the fisherman, determining that the crime boss Gaedren Lamm had framed the innocent half-elf. Before the witness could recant, however, he died under “tragic” circumstances. With no witness and no way to confirm the fisherman’s story, the case against Marduzi languished, until he was released for lack of evidence. With Marduzi Halfelven’s name now tarnished, he was thrown from the Acadamae, a place where he felt somewhat at home. This last blow of fate shattered whatever trace of faith in authority and society in general that the Halfelven had.

Now world weary just after attaining adulthood, Marduzi has withdrawn into himself, trusting no one but his friend Zumak who cleared his name. He dedicates himself to mastering and expanding the skills that he earned in the Acadamae, finding solace in the knowledge he’s gained. His mistrust and cynicism for the world might bend, if he has a shot at the one who ruined his life. What’s more, Gaedren Lamm has come to represent, for young Marduzi, everything that is wrong with his birth country.

Character Description:

Marduzi Halfelven is short for his kind, standing only five and a half feet tall. His height is probably a legacy of his malnourished childhood. He is of about average build, with a well-trimmed beard and a short cropped hair he wears tied back. His sharp, angular facial features and distinctly pointed ears clearly show his elven blood. His preference, when not travelling, is to dress in a simple but functional scholar’s robe. In keeping with his personality, he dresses in a subdued manner, with none of the bright colors or jewelry that might be expected of a true elf. Anyone who takes the time to study his face can see the tightness imposed by his past. It’s left him with a rigid mask of control, a physical manifestation of his need to be on the defensive at all times.

As a wizard, Marduzi disdains flashy and destructive magic. Instead he prefers to alter the world to his advantage, or present his foes with a world that they would want to see. He dislikes directly coercing people, it reminds him too much of his own sad past. His past as a wizard busker has honed his ability to deceive and confuse others with an alternate reality in particular, and it is this branch of magic, where most of his effort has been spent.

Character Stats:

Marduzi "M" Halfelven
Male Half-elf (Born in Korvasa) Illusionist 1
Init +6; Senses Perception +6

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DEFENSE
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AC 12, touch 12, flat-footed 10 (+2 Dex)
hp 7 (1d6 + 1 favored class)
Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +3

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OFFENSE
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Spd 30 ft.
Melee Dagger +0 (1d4/19-20)
Ranged Light Crossbow +2 (1d8/19-20)

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STATISTICS
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Str10, Dex 14, Con 10, Int 20, Wis 12, Cha 7
Base Atk +0; CMB +0; CMD 12
Feats: Skill Focus(Perception), Improved Initiative, Scribe Scroll
Traits: Suspicious, Framed (Dropout)
Skills Perception +6, Knowledge: Arcana +9, Knowledge: Local +9, Knowledge: Planes +9, Sense Motive +6, Linguistics +9, Spellcraft +11

Languages Common (Taldane), Draconic, Elven, Shoanti, Celestial, Varisianm, Aquan, Halfling

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School Powers (Illusion specialization)
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8/day ranged touch attack with range 30 causes automatic blindness (equal or less) or dazzled (more HD) for 1 round
Illusions with duration "concentration" last for 1/2 * wizard level rounds after I stop concentrating (min 1 round)

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Familiar
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Name: Garrick the Rat
Fort +2 Reflex +4 Will +3
Init+2 Perception +5
Attack: +4 bite (d3-4)
AC 15, Touch 14, Flat Footed 13
hp 3
Skills: Climb +10, Stealth +18, Swim +10, Knowledge(Arcana, Local, Planes) -1, Perception +5, Sense Motive +2, Spellcraft -1
Stats: Str 2, Dex 15, Con 11, Int 6, Wis 6, Cha 2
Feat: Improved Evasion
Special Abilities: Alertness for Wizard when rat nearby, Share spells (self spells can target rat), empathic link (impression of feelings of rat up to a mile away)

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Opposition schools
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Evocation
Enchantment

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Spells Prepared (CL 1st)
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1st— Mage Armor, Grease, Silent Image, Color Spray
0th– Read Magic, Detect Magic, Ghost Sound

Combat Gear: Dagger, Light Crossbow, 20 Crossbow Bolts
Other Gear: Explorer's Outfit, 1 vial of Ink, 2 Inkpens, 8 pieces of Paper, Waterskin, 10 pieces of chalk, small steel mirror, Scroll Case, Spellbook, Spell Component Pouch, 2 Belt Pouches, Backpack, 10 Tindertwigs, 2 torches, 26 gp 4 sp
Not On Person: Scholar's Outfit, Bedroll, Winter Blanket

Character Spell Book:

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CANTRIPS (15 PAGES)
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Abjuration Resistance; Conjuration Acid Splash; Divination Detect Magic, Detect Poison, Read Magic; Illusion Ghost Sound; Necromancy Bleed, Disrupt Undead, Touch of Fatigue; Transmutation Mage Hand, Mending, Message, Open/Close; Universal Arcane Mark, Prestidigitation
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FIRST-LEVEL (8 PAGES)
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Abjuration Protection from Evil; Conjuration Mage Armor, Grease; Divination Identify; Illusion Color Spray, Silent Image; Necromancy; Transmutation Enlarge Person, Feather Fall


"Something like that." He considers her other question. "Everywhere. Nowhere. They move almost as much as he does." He regards the woman coolly. The kill was his. If she wants to find the target for him, so be it. But heaven help her if she stood between Durriken and Lamm, in the end.


Painlord wrote:
AdamWarnock wrote:
Yep, it's just a good exercise to get into character.

Character? You guys are in character?

::Painlord continues to paint on his monitor in cheetodust and doritomuck. A chalky pez dispenser sits nearby offering many colors with which to paint. A nearby package of oreos offers the needed black chalk.::

That was gold!

What do you use for white?


"I can help you find Lamm."

Shades looks expectantly at the young woman and waits for her answer. He searched the other man's face for signs of recognition.

Surely he remembers me now. How many of my kind served Lamm?


Marcus watched from the window of a borrowed flat above, now in full face paint and cloak.

How could I have been so careless? This is why I can't have normal friends. Group of bandits would never bat an eye seeing some blood splatter. Good people, normal people though... His thoughts trailed off as the conversation he was eavesdropping on turned to Lamm.

Marcus's fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white.

I can't lose sight of these people, not for a second.

But wait...hadn't he seen some of them before? Yes, they were once Lamms as he was. This couldn't be coincidence. So close to assassinating Lamm and he just stumbles upon this group? No, Marcus wouldn't fall for it. These people were still working with Lamm; spies.

Have to follow them.


I just realized we're at 107 posts and yet only 11 auditions. XD


"Really? That'll be a neat trick. If yer sure you can do it, then lead on. All I ask is that I get what I want out of him. After that, I don't give a damn what you do to him."

Raseri looks over the the other man standing near-by. She had heard tales of orc raids as a little girl from her parents, and this person gives her an uneasy feeling.

Still, she was getting very close.

Soon. Just hold on a little longer, my little elves, and we'll be a family again.

This is turning into a very interesting little meeting, too bad it's not canon.


GM Squawk wrote:
I just realized we're at 107 posts and yet only 11 auditions. XD

ah, whoops.

Guess the posts here must be part rabbit XD


Goffred Giulianoff wrote:
"Think," he says, leaning in towards the artist and trying to hold his gaze, "what's the highest point in the city you've ever been? Think of what you see from there. That's what I want to see."

Tristain thinks about the question briefly.

"I think atop the walls. From the north wall you can see far on a clear day."

Tristain sighs and thinks.

Is it worth doing another custom drawing when I have so many customers eager for sales? Tristain looks around at the menagerie of assorted goonery that seemed to have fallen upon him this day.

"Yes, of course, I can do exactly that. One moment, let me arrange things so that I may focus on the task at hand."

Tristain arranges his pre-sketches neatly and ordered on the sidewalk, hopeful for another quick sale or two.

A few more coins and I'll eat well all this week.

Tristain chalks up a nice drawing for Fredo of the view north from the walls...the image is nice, but lacks a certain passion that one sees when one inspects those of Korvosa proper. In fact, most of Tristain's drawings of Korvosa invoke much more emotion and passion than those of outside the walls.

Tristain blows the dust off the sketch, wipes his hands on his pants, and hands the sketch to Fredo.

"It's what I can do." The image shows the forest and mountains overlooking the north wall. A nice path slices through the forest. 'Meh', is the best word to describe it.


Tiefling traits for an oni-spawn
1d100 ⇒ 531d100 ⇒ 481d100 ⇒ 6


I am completed!


I am ready to plunge Gaedren Lamm into an eternal nightmare.


So I've completed my profile and fixed a few things I was missing. Not envying GM Squawk picking amongst so many awesome characters.


Good thing about all this is that I'm sure our roster turnout is going to be epic quality.


Shameless bump


Seeing the crowd around him die down, Tristain looks at the coins from today's selling of his chalk art.

Might be my best day ever. Wow. Korvosa has blest me this day.

Rolling up his remaining works of art, Tristain puts them all into his scroll tube, hopeful that they can be sold another day.

Murmuring thanks to those still around who bought his art, Tristain goes off in search of a warm meal...dreaming of doing something special on the morrow.

My opus in chalk?


Here's my half-orc magus.

A Long Way Down:
They can't just ignore this, Veklen thought as he hit the ground again. He must be brought to justice.

”He confessed, then just disappeared,” Veklen roars, ”Obviously Lamm killed him. What more do you need?!?” Veklen gets up and snarls as he repeats the argument. He's been trying to clear his name like this for over a year now.

”Get out of here. Your monstrous friend probably just killed that poor fisherman too. Just because you were set free doesn't make you innocent. As far as I’m concerned, that man’s last testimony still stands against you.” The Korvosan guard leered over Veklan, ”I'm sure I could find a reason to detain you tonight, if you wish to stay and talk about it.” An icy smile spread across the man's lips.

Veklen growled deep in his throat. The vibration of his tusks against his upper lips sets his old instincts racing. His training starts to take over and he moves towards the guard quickly. He begins to reach for the guard's neck and--
No, Veklen shakes his head and steps back, Not this way. This’ll only make it worse. He looks at the guard and knows one thing--it's time to go.

“I didn't kill her. Lamm framed me, and you know it.” Then Veklen did the only thing left to him. He ran.
***
Veklen woke shivering. He was wet. It had rained all night again. He hadn't been home in five days and there had been little food, but plenty of water. Once again despair gripped his heart.

He had been accepted at the Acadamae. It had taken years of work, thousands of gold in bribes and tuition and the discovery that his mother had been one of their best students, but Veklen had made it. He had been on his way to prominence. For a half-orc, that was an amazing feat. He had come close to finishing his first semester there when--

The harsh voice of Veklen's father, Grekeri, interrupted these bitter thoughts, The past is no good to anyone. While Grekeri had no formal education, he did know how to get things done. Veklen began to stand. His legs protested, and he brought them to order, but then his stomach revolted and he lost the battle entirely. After a minute or two of dry heaving, he forced himself back to his feet and stood slowly. If I wait much longer, I'll be useless. It only took a moment to make up his mind. It was time to go home.

Veklen made his way through the narrow streets of old Korvosa, slowing as he got close to home. The streets were still quiet, only a few people wandering here and there. He stopped around the corner from his destination. He knew he had to get in even if they were still watching his door. He peered around the corner. Nobody there--

Wait, there he is. It looks like the guards have given up, but are now paying someone else to watch. Veklen looked closer. His heart leaped, and a smile spread across his face. The man, propped facing the door across the street, seems to have fallen asleep.

Veklen hurried around the corner and to his front door. As quietly as he could, he opened the door and slipped inside. Once inside, he found a window to spy on the sleeping man. Still sleeping. For the first time in a long time, Veklen felt his smile touch his eyes. This couldn't have gone better. Veklen left the window. He looked around his apartment. It was barely a shadow of how he used to live. With his admission to the Acadamae he had been able to get a sizable loan and find a nice, furnished apartment in the South Shore district. Since the supposed murder, he's been reduced to living in this. The small room was bare. The only things in the room were a bed roll spread out in the corner, and a backpack lying nearby. There was a connecting room and that was Veklens destination.

Veklen hurried to the kitchen. His cupboards were mostly bare, but he was able to find an old loaf of bread. He had been hungry often enough in the orc tribe he grew up in to know not to eat too much now. He controlled his desires and broke off a small piece. It was the best stale bread he'd ever had, and it took all his will not to finish off the loaf.

Veklen sat back, letting his stomach do the work it had been begging for. Time to plan his next move. He needed to get his life back, somehow. For a moment he thought about going to the Hellknights, but this just showed his desperation. They'd be just as likely to arrest him as help him. After a moment or two, Veklen knew he had only one option. He had to take matters in his own hands. He would find Gaedren Lamm and make him confess to the murder. And if that doesn't work, I can always just get revenge. a smile spread across Veklen's face at that. It wasn't the perfect solution, but it was all Lamm had left him.

Veklen sat up. Maybe his nerves were just shot, but he thought he heard something . . . wrong. He stood quickly, and ran back to the small front room. He peeked out the window, and his heart dropped. The man was there pointing. Pointing the guards around him towards Veklen. Veklen cursed. He should've seen the man was faking. Time to go.

Veklen ran to his bedroll and kicked it aside. He lifted his foot and kicked hard on the floorboard directly beneath. There was a quick crack, and the board broke through. Veklen grabbed the pouch and the book lying inside and threw them in his backpack. He went to the window. They're still forming up. If I could surprise them . . . No more time for thought, Veklen stepped back, and ran at the window. He landed and just kept his feet under him. As soon as he could, Veklen began to run. He didn't stop till he couldn't go any farther. He had lost many of his possessions, but he had gotten his gold and more importantly, his pouch. He had everything he needed to begin his search for Lamm.

Appearance:
Veklen stands about 6' 2". His flame red hair contrasts with his green skin. He wears a shirt breaches and cloak, but seems slightly uncomfortable in them. His arms and legs are thick, making his clothes a little tight. A sword is attached to the belt at his hip. His grey smoky grey eyes are constantly searching, his lips curled in contempt.

Personality:
Veklen has recently begun to feel a new connection to his deity, Nethys, in a dual personality. In his youth he grew up by the sword and fist. But as he grew and realized he was smarter than his orcish companions, he gained a desire for knowledge. By the time he was accepted to the Acadamae, he was more scholar than fighter. After he was forced from the Acadamae due to the murder he was framed for, his increasing rage has left him proportionally dependent on his sword. He is now a barely controlled balance between the two personalities. Sometimes relying more on his magic, and sometimes his fist.

Stats:
VEKLEN STONEFIST
Male Half-orc Magus 1
N Medium Humanoid (Orc)
Init +1; Senses Perception +3; Darkvision
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DEFENSE
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AC 15, touch 11, flat-footed 14. . (+4 armor, +1 Dex)
hp 10 (1d8+2)
Fort +3, Ref +1, Will +2
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OFFENSE
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Spd 30 ft.
Melee: Longsword +3 (1d8+3/19-20/x2)
Unarmed Strike +3 (1d3+2/20/x2)
Spell Combat: -2 penalty on Melee/1 spell with casting time less than standard action.
--------------------
STATISTICS
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Str 16, Dex 13, Con 12, Int 16, Wis 10, Cha 10
Base Atk +0; CMB +3; CMD 14
Feats: Combat Casting
Traits: Framed(Dropout), Magical Lineage(Shocking Grasp)
Skills: Intimidate +6, Knowledge (Arcana) +7, Knowledge (Local) +4, Perception +3, Spellcraft +9
Languages Common, Orc, Draconic, Abyssal, Goblin
SQ Spell Combat, Arcane Pool(4)
Combat Gear Longsword, Chain Shirt; Other Gear Backpack, Masterwork, Belt Pouch, Waterskin, Trail Rations x 7, Spell Component Pouch, Spellbook, Bedroll, Travelers Outfit (worn), Scholars Outfit, Rope
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SPECIAL ABILITIES
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Spell Combat: As a full-round action, can cast a spell taking no longer than 1 standard action, and make all of your melee attacks at a -2 penalty
Arcane Pool:1/2 Magus level + int modifier Arcane Pool points. Can spend 1 point as a swift action from your arcane pool to enhance your weapon for one minute. Powers other Magus abilities.
Spells:1st (2/Day)-Shield, Enlarge Person, Shocking Grasp, Color Spray, True Strike, Mirror Strike, 0 level (3 at will)-All

I'm glad I found this before the deadline. This looks to be a lot of fun. Hope I get in


I should have a fair amount of free time this weekend if anyone wants to do a bit more RP and character interaction before Monday. Join me at the South Wall...or tell others where you might be and we might join you. :)

Meanwhile, in another part of Korvosa...

Tristain's Opus:

At daylight, Tristain brings his best colored chalks and what rations he could round up and makes a small pile next to the wall.

Tristain scans the small section of wall on the south side of Korvosa, near the South Gate. He has been in and out of the city several times over the last few days, doing sketches of the outside view and comparing it to the inside.

He had tried to get on the wall to look out, but the guards would not let him even glance from a top the wall.

Bastards.

Tristain is determined to make this happen.

This spot here. This spot here will be my masterpiece, Tristain thinks as he measures the wall with his hands, placing black charcoal dots for points of reference.

* * *

The morning passes quickly, as he outlines and sketches where the trees and bushes should be. He uses mostly the dark chalk for the outlines, they give definition and he will blur them later.

As the sun crests he no longer has the shade to work, but he continues anyway. A small crowd gathers, some stay to gawk, others toss in a few coppers into his collection cup (it would not cover the cost of the colored chalks, but this was going to be worth it), and others cheer and a few others jeer. A soldier or two walk by and admire his work, but none stop him.

There are few laws against free art in this City. For that, Tristain is thankful.

He begins to chalk the tall trees from the forest beyond. He uses boxes to reach the higher parts. It is hard work, and he frequently breaks to take a look at his work from a distance and compare it to the sketches.

* * *

The wall is nearly finished with the background, the trees are tall and green, the bushes are squat and green, and the shadows blend nicely as a part of everything.

Now it is time for the art.

The sun is past midday and Tristain pauses more frequently now, the length of the chore and standing taking its toll.

Tristain adds a piece of his own soul to the chalkwork on the wall...a familiar girl and a unicorn. (He had seen a unicorn once as a child on a trip out of the city. It was a fleeting glimpse, but he asked about it...then he saw pictures in book of one. It was.)

The girl was slightly off frame. Just her hair...but it was very familiar to Tristain.

Trina.

The unicorn is white and proud, a stark contrast to the forest behind it. At first glance, it seems like a protector of the forest, as if daring the city to encroach further. On further inspection, the unicorn is actually protecting the city, a fierce gaze warning away predators. It is glorious.

* * *

The sun has almost set by the time he finishes his work. Tristain's arms burn from the ache of so much use...his neck is burnt by the sun. But he still smiles in weariness and pain.

Tristain stands back and admires his work. The half-full cup of tips is nothing compared to his joy of seeing his vision come to life.

Every visitor leaving by the South Gate will see this work and be reminded of this city and the promise it holds.

Glorious Korvosa!

This is my greatest work...yet.

Tired and broken, Tristain slumps to a nearby wall to reflect on his work. His tips cup lies nearby.


Me too, your character sounds like he'd be a lot of fun to have around.

EDIT (Note to self refresh before posting):

Raseri walks along the South Wall and sees something new when she gets close to the gate.

She stands there for several long minutes studying it. She finally shakes her head and smiles.

"That crazy artistic bastard..." she laughs quietly to herself for a moment as her mind goes back to the drawing carefully rolled up in her room. She can't explain it, but she feels a bit happier now.

Maybe this day won't be a total waste after all.


Two more days, although I already have a rough idea of who will be the lucky five... unless people of epic proportions just decide to stop and audition.


Veklen walks along the South Wall with the sun setting ahead of him. Many people, Korvosans and visitors alike, have found their way to an inn or tavern, or occasionally made their way home. Regardless of where they all are, few are on the streets.

As Veklen makes his way down the street, his load seems to weigh on him more than it should. He looks straight ahead, but doesn't see anythng. He stops near the gate, something catching his eye. This is the first thing he's really seen since visiting the family of an old dead fisherman. There on the wall is a beautiful picture of Korvosa. Veklen stands and stares at it for some time holding his chin in thought, and finally he nods as if deciding something. He looks around to find a young man laying exhausted against the wall under the picture. His hands are covered in chalk, and he looks a mess.

Veklen smiles at the young artist. "That's a beautiful lie you told there," Veklen says nodding at the picture on the wall. "I almost believed it myself for a minute." Veklen reaches into his pouch and pulls out a gold piece to throw in the artists cup. There is a loud clink as the coin lands heavily among all the others the man had earned that day.


Current Audition count:

  • Tristain the Chalker- Half-elf Urban Druid
  • Raseri Whitescale- Ulfen Barbarian
  • Durriken Garde- Human Skirmisher
  • Bimbur Longstrike- Dwarf Zen Archer
  • Goffred Giulianoff- Chelaxian Greed Wizard
  • Lagrin Miellar- Half Elf Summoner
  • Theron the Absolver- Taldan Inquisitor
  • Shadeos- Half Orc Rogue
  • Lucin Crispin- Chelaxian Vivisectionist
  • Marcus Ashwater- Human Roof Runner
  • Kayala- Female Monk
  • Marduzi Half Elven- Half-elf Illusionist
  • Velken Stonefist- Half-orc Magus


Tristain looks at the half-orc who tossed in the gold coin, hardly hearing what he said.

"Thank you for your coin." Tristain looks back to his art, weighing the man's thoughts. "I do not see it as a lie...but as a truth unseen by many. This city cares and comforts its citizens...herein the Korvosan people are protected and safe."

Tristain's eyes go down to the half-orc's sword.

"Though it appears that you have your own means of protection."

Tristain shows his empty hands.

"I have little protect me here now...but I trust this City and its people to keep me safe. Tell me, have you wielded that sword in anger?"


"Ha!" Veklen's laugh booms in the nearly empty street. "Protected and safe," Veklen muses. "In a way they are at that. But there is a wasting sickness here that many fall prey to. Just ask the widow I came from visiting, and she will . . ." Veklen pauses for a moment. "No, it's so bad, she's afraid to admit knowledge of this disease." Something in Veklen seems to change. He doesn't move, but he seems taller, his burden seems lighter, and there's suddenly a fire in his eyes. The kind of roaring fire that is tamed in a fire place or pit, but constantly threatens escape.

"While I do carry protection, I do not suffer any illusions that it is the only type of protection. I have seen men with as few ostensible defenses as you, who could make a sword crumble to dust with a wave of their hand. Swords are only one type of defense.” Veklen pauses then leans in close to the half-elf. ”To tell the truth, a sword protects people more often from on their belt then in their hand. But that is beside the point.” Veklen stands back up.

"As to your question, no. I have not raised this sword in anger. But I have raised many in anger before this. I grew up in an orc tribe over in Belkzen. My life depended on it. But this is the first time I’ve carried a sword in many years. I recently acquired this one.” The fire in Veklen’s eyes grew bright, threatening to spill out and destroy. "I plan on raising it soon, though,” a vicious smile spreads across Veklen's face, "If I can just find the cause of that disease."


Well done, Veklen.

Belkzen? There are orcs there?

Tristain cocks his head as he tries to remember what he knows of the lands outside Korvosa.

"Is Belkzen is the sandy one next to that island?"

He doesn't look like a sand orc. He's not from around here, is he?

"What brings you to our fair city, friend?" Tristain tries to make nice with the seemingly bent-on-violent half orc.


Veklen lets out with a loud laugh. As he does, the fire seems to recede. By the time he finishes his laugh, he is entirely back to the man that first walked up the street. "You haven't left the city much I take it. Belkzen is just northwest of here. No islands. Ha ha ha." After a moment he looks at the artist. "Friend indeed. The names Veklen." Veklen reaches out for the half-elf's hand. "I came here to come to the Acadamae."


"I am Tristain," Tristain answers, dusting off his right hand on his trousers before taking the meaty half-orc hand in his. "Well met."

His hands are huge.

"What? You're in the Acadamae?" Tristain says before quickly realizing that he is sounding foolishly judgmental.

Recovering, Tristain spouts what little knowledge he has of the Acadamae, "What are you doing here, so far from the Heights? Have you passed your final exam yet?"


Veklen's face hardens. "No, I'm not. I was, and will be again. But for now I'm not." Veklen says, his voice like steel. He looks over at Tristain. "What do you have against the Acadamae?" Veklen asks, his voice softening as the topic steers away from himself.


Eh, why not.

Raseri sighs to herself as she walks back along South Wall. The lead she had been given was a bust, nothing but a brothel full of women, and a few men, well past their prime. The combination of frustration, weariness, and more than a bit of anger showed on her face as she turned to leave.

But that didn't stop the madame owning the place from trying to rope Raseri into working there.

Now she was probably going to have to find a place to lie low after punching out the own--

Raseri looked up to see the chalk artist from the other day standing with a half-orc as well, and looked like it might come to blows for a moment. Never one to be left out of a fight, she walked over to the pair and heard Velken ask, "What do you have against the Acadamae?"

"You mean besides that they are all a bunch of stuck up idiots?"


"I have nothing against the Acadamae...it's just that, that..uh..." Tristain looks for a graceful way to say that half-orcs don't usually join the Acadamae and that Tristain has made a pompous ass out of himself. "...uh, it's just that you look stronger than most of the types that go in there, that's all. I would think that they might be less welcoming of your kind..."

Tristain's brain does a slow clap.

Bravo, you idiot. Now you're just stepped into it more.

Tristain's mouth keeps going, trying to say something right.

"...your kind meaning strong...uhm..."

Raseri: "...a bunch of stuck up idiots?"

Tristain looks at the woman from yesterday, jaw agape.

"Uh..."

Run you idiot! Now's your chance!

Tristain's legs don't move.


Veklen turns at the newcomer and frowns. He then turns back to Tristain. "No. They don't let my kind in. I know I carry a stigma as a half-orc, I'm not an idiot." Veklen gives a sidelong look at the woman that joined them before continuing to Tristain. "It took a lot to get me in there. And it'll take more to get back."

Veklen turns back to the women. Stuck up . . . yes," he says nodding, "but far from idiots. Well, most of the time. And who might you be?" Veklen's voice seems a bit sharper now. He looks the woman up and down weighing her intentions.


More down than up, Raseri's a foot shorter than Veklen.

"Wait, you wanna go back to a place that has people summoning things that would like nothing better than to rip you face off while munching on your innards?"

Raseri looks up at the half-orc towering over her. the look on her face says it all.

This guy's not an idiot, he's flipping insane!

She sighs and removes the incredulous look from her face.

"I'm just a passerby, who happens to have one of his pieces back at my home. I'm not looking for a fight, I just saw what might be an ugly one." She holds her hand up in front of her to show that she really isn't looking for a fight.

She looks Veklen up and down, trying to find any pouches he might have. She's heard some about wizards, and knows that they carry stuff for casting spells in pouches, and that they typically don't carry longswords.

"Anyway, why's a wizard carrying around pickle skewer?" She asks while pointing at the sword on his side.


So it's Monday for me already. I will allow you guys 12 more hours before I close off auditions.


Good luck, everybody.


It seems the hour draws near.


I didn't know we were auditioning :-). Oh, me and my lazy soul.


Lucin Crispin wrote:
I didn't know we were auditioning :-). Oh, me and my lazy soul.

Still not too late to join in.


As expected, this decision was a tough one, and I even had to ask a few friends for ideas. In the end, I was able to choose these five on the context of good backgrounds and build synergy. There were others that I really wanted, however the following entrants seem to be the most interesting to me within their divisions of battle roles.

Congratulations:

  • Tristain Stone, the Chalker- Urban Druid
  • Raseri Whitescale- Barbarian
  • Goffred Giulianoff- Greed Wizard
  • Theron Astor Abraham, the Absolver- Inquisitor
  • Durriken Garde- Skirmisher

Please make your way to the discussion thread and follow the additional instructions there.

To the others, I am sorry I could not include you, however depending on the status of this campaign, I may open another one at its side. There are also other campaigns with open auditions out there which have equal possibility of greatness as this one. Do check those out.

Live long and prosper.


I bide my time and in the shadows linger
Concealed, unnoticed in between Korvosan scum.
One day, one night, the time will come to share my pain
With him who sired my darkest secret, Gaedren Lamm.

Congratulations to those who made it, this thread has gathered a plethora of awesome characters. Squawk, by the end of your game you'll have enough material to publish the AP novelization :)


Congratulations to those who made it. This will definitely be epic.


I am honored to be selected and will do my best to be worthy of the group.

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