Soaring Ambition- An Urban Solo Game (Inactive)

Game Master Mowque

Imperia is enmeshed in a web of intrigues, politics and secret factions. Will she rise the ranks of power and prestige?


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From the Office of the Minister of Trade

Greetings citizen! In the due course of our democratic and fair lottery, you have been chosen as a Commissioner in the city of Almas. You will be assigned your duties upon your arrival. Please arrive at the Palace of the People’s Council at the time and date indicated below.

That simple letter (along with the times and dates noted) was what had dragged Imperia Voralius from her quiet church in Piren’s Bluff to the famed and noted Field of Concord this morning.

At least it was a good day for it. The spring morning was bright and sunny, showing the Field to its best effect. The vast, well-paved promenade nearly glowed with scrubbed white stone. The elegant hedges and bushes were perfectly maintained, trimmed to accent the best in each plant, and yet to fit together to serve a greatly whole. Fountains splashed up and down the avenue, adding the bright tinkle of water to the formal atmosphere.

She was not alone however. Next to her, also taking in the fabulous sights, was her old Acadamae friend, Jorhan Metz. Tall, good-looking, with clean fresh features he was beaming nearly as much as the polished marble below their feet.

”Isn’t it beautiful?” he asked Imperia, waving his hands at the immaculate lawns and hedges. ”A true testament to what free men can do, if truly unbound by ancient prejudice and tyranny!” His voice rises in crescendo, as he is obviously taking bits of some stump speech, perhaps without even realizing it. His well-tailored clothes, fashionable haircut and fluid gestures fit the surrounding perfection well.

”I am so glad you were selected, Imperia. I have great plans, really making this city a better place. And I’m glad you’ll be a part of it! Remember all those late nights in the Acadamae, talking politics, when we weren’t too exhausted by our studies? Now we can finally put it into action!”. He luxuriates in the aura of power, pride and splendor of the Field of Concord.

Sorry if it is a bit stiff. I'll find my voice as we go!


LN Chelaxian Arcanist(spell specialist) 4 | HP: 17/17 | AC: 12 (12 Tch, 10 Ff) | CMB: +1, CMD: 13 | F: +2, R: +3, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +2, SM: +8 | Speed 30ft | Arcane Reservoir 5/7 | Spells: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions:

The sights and sounds of Almas were certainly a thing of beauty, particularly along the Field of Concord. There was something in the air of that city that was near infectious. Or perhaps it was the candor in which her old friend was speaking. Being a native, he was spoon fed the glories of freedom and the Common Rule from the moment he opened his eyes. It was hardly a surprise that he was so very enthusiastic about participating in the higher rings of their government.

Imperia, on the other hand, was feeling a touch more skeptical about the whole thing. She had been raised in a land where concepts like 'freedom of expression' and 'people's rights' were considered to be blasphemous. People had been charged and hung on charges of treason for less. Since getting here, she had managed to avoid Andoran's political system, but now she wasn't only neck deep in it, she was over her head. She felt lost, that was for certain. Should she have dressed up? Should she have made some display of wealth and power? Was she going to be outcast for being Chelaxian born? How in the gods' names was Jorhan staying so cavalier about the whole thing?

"Well I mean, you did most of the talking," she said with a sly grin, happy to have a bit of a lighthearted poke Jorhan to ease her own tension. "Always have." She pushed her glasses up on her nose and tilts her head to look up to Jorhan. "Jokes aside, it does open up some doors. And with support for our causes at multiple levels... Well, that certainly widens the spheres of influence."

Imperia glanced down at the map of Almas she had picked up on the way into the city, trying to keep track of exactly where they were relative to the points of interest on the map. It took more than a bit of effort to keep from looking like an awestruck tourist, though that's exactly what she felt like. Well, she would have if it weren't for the knot of nervous anxiety firmly lodged in her throat. Imperia had always found comfort in sameness, routine, and predictability.

"I don't suppose they'll be giving me an instruction manual anytime soon?" she asked idly. It was more rhetorical than anything else, thought she wouldn't complain if the answer was 'yes'.


Jorhan drops his eyes from the democratic splendors around him and focuses on Imperia, ”Our causes..” He grins at Imperia openly. ”Doesn't that sound grand, to be debating and considering our causes in the Field of Concord itself!” He goes on for a bit then reigns himself in.

”I am sorry I couldn't find out what Commissioner job you were being assigned in advance. I looked into it, but no one could or would tell me.' A brief frown crosses his face then vanishes. ”You'll find out in a few minutes anyway. I'll have to be going soon...same as you.”

Just as he says that, a strange rumbling of many feet come up the Field. There, coming out from one of the side streets dozens of people pour out. For one split second, Imperia thinks they may be a mob or riot but they quickly resolve into many well-fed, well-dressed men, walking in fairly collegiate fashion.

”The Councilers” Jorhan breathes then says, sharper ”Did I miss something? Why are they all together...Did I forget something?”. Before he has a chance to do anymore, the surprisingly fast moving group is sweeping past the two talkers. Imperia notices several distinctive men (and a few women), either thin or fat, scarred or smooth, young and old. She doesn't recognize any of them, and the group is a bit too fast moving to really pick out any. She does notice several wearing the gold-trimmed blue robes associated with Councilors of seniority (and power). A few others are also mixed in, fully armed men, resplendent in shining armor and burnished swords. The Steel Falcons, strong and brave, and each sworn to defend the Supreme Elect. But even they fade into anonymity in such a large group.

Only one man truly stands out, a tall lean man whose black skin shines with obvious health in the morning sun. Wearing a formal military uniform he looks quite out of place with the rest of the more...sedentary looking group. His step is light and firm, with others making way for him. Although engaged in talk, his head turns this way and that, taking in the entire Field.

”The Supreme Elect!” Jorhan says to Imperia, in breathless tones. ”Seeing the Supreme Elect on our first day, we are very lucky.” the new Councilor says, taking in the pageantry of the moving Councilors. Suddenly, just as he stops speaking, the Supreme Elect slows his walk, then instantly, begins to move towards them.

The crowd breaks around him like water under a ship's prow. None dare to even make him pause his stride. He quickly comes up to Imperia and Jorhan, a formal smile on his face. He speaks to Jorhan, those eyes watching everything. A few lackeys hover nearby, obviously disapproving while two Steel Falcons watch, faces unreadable.

”Greetings Councilor! I am honored to greet you in the name of the Andoran Republic, and the People's Council. I have high hopes for you, and all of our new Councilors.” A quick handshake and Jorhan doesn't even have time to respond before the black man turns to Imperia.

With the same watching smile he says, ”And well met, Commissioner! I enjoy seeing citizens of varying ranks talking and discussing the day. That is exactly what makes our nation such a worthy place to live. But shouldn't you be at the Palace, getting your assignments?” He asks kindly, his eyes flashing ever briefly to the giant mass of marble encased stone at the end of the Field, where presumably all are going. With that, a brief but firm handshake, he is back into the crowd of moving politicians.

For a stunned moment, Jorhan reels from the contact with greatness and power. After this he visibly starts, ”I have to go!” He says in a choked voice, starting to catch up to the swiftly moving group. ”I'll send a message for dinner, Imperia. Have a good first day on the job!” his voice is excited but distracted as he hurries after his peers.

Imperia is left alone in the Field of Concord, as the mass of power and prestige swiftly take the broad stairs of the Palace of the People's Council.


LN Chelaxian Arcanist(spell specialist) 4 | HP: 17/17 | AC: 12 (12 Tch, 10 Ff) | CMB: +1, CMD: 13 | F: +2, R: +3, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +2, SM: +8 | Speed 30ft | Arcane Reservoir 5/7 | Spells: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions:

Jorhan's excitement really was infectious and his smile elicited one of her own. "It is rather grand," she mused. "Though it'll be a little more grand, I imagine, when I feel a little less like a schoolgirl on their first day of classes. Oh, what in god's name--?" As she trailed off, a deep rumbling echoed down the wide walkway that was the Field of Concord. A riot? Really? On my first day?! I haven't even started yet! Her thoughts were quickly put to rest when the source of the rumbling revealed itself. More finely dressed men and women than she cared to try to count marched in from one of the side streets. They were keeping quite a pace and headed right towards them.

"The Councilors? Are you late on your first day already?" She stood next to Jorhan and quickly gave herself a quick primping. She tucked her long black and white hair behind her ears and needlessly smoothed out her long purple skirts. Her glasses, which had slipped down her nose, received a firm pushing up. Maybe she really should have dressed up...

The procession swept past them. Councilors and what she assumed were their guards made quite a show. Any thoughts she had of masking just how awestruck she was melted away. She stood and watched, eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly ajar. She had watched the Chelaxian ruling class march in such a way before, though rather than inspiring a sense of awe, they had inspired a sense of fear and terror. Of course, anyone walking with Hellknights usually managed that. It wasn't until Jorhan breathlessly announced the presence of the Supreme Elect that she was pulled from her own thoughts long enough to notice the rather majestic look man that the rest of the Councilors seemed to revolve around. Just in time, too, as his eyes swept over the Field of Concord to settle on the pair of them.

It took her a moment to compose herself. Her mouth snapped shut and her posture, which hadn't been poor before, managed to become even straighter. Sure, she had met important people before, but she usually had a lot more preparation than this. I definitely should have dressed up, was the only thing she had time to think before the Supreme Elect was before them, offering polite greetings and handshakes.

"Y-yes, sir." she stammered as he indicated where they ought to be heading, but by the time she finished her words he was already melting back into the politician parade.

Imperia hadn't noticed she had been holding her breath until she let out a sigh of relief as the Councilors moved out of direct ear-shot. "I should have dressed up," she commented to no on in particular in the same breathless tone Jorhan had used.

"I'll say. I told you to wear that frilly one with the low neckline!" From along the side of the walk way, a little imp strolled up with daisies behind his ears and the tail of what she could only guess was a rat dangling from his mouth. "But oh no, had to go for the librarian look today, didn't you?"

The reappearance of Ziggip was all she needed to clear the fluff from her head. "That's disgusting," she said, pointing at the twitching tail in his mouth. "And if you can't keep that mouth of yours shut, you'll find yourself at home in a crate drinking water and eating pellets like a hamster."

"Yeah, yeah," the imp said dismissively as he flapped his wings, took to the air, and settled himself on her shoulder. "I'll be good, I promise." Imperia gave him a look that promised a world of unpleasantness should he stir anything up for her. To his credit, he'd probably sleep through the whole thing, but she liked to cross her Ts and dot her Is when it came to Ziggip.

"We better get going," she said to Jorhan after leveling another pointed glare at the imp. "Or we really will be late."


As Imperia moves towards the giant marble Palace of the People’s Council, she notes through the rare break in shrubbery and elegant fountains, fine restaurants and shops. Obviously the Councilors and Ministers are a good market, whatever democracy might say. These are quickly forgotten however, when faced with the rising majesty of the Palace.

A vast gleaming dome surmounted a huge blocky structure. Huge windows glittered dozens of feet above, casting rays of light everywhere. In front, were massive broad steps of marble, flanked by formal columns covered in frescos of unity, honor and liberty. Everywhere are signs of power and plenty, and the ineffable feeling of the corridors of power.

At the top of this grand entryway, and distinctly out of place, sat a graying, old man at a small booth. Attached to the front of the rickety booth was a sign saying, Commissioner Applicants Sign in Here. The man looked intensely bored, despite just witnessing a parade of the most powerful citizens in the nation.


LN Chelaxian Arcanist(spell specialist) 4 | HP: 17/17 | AC: 12 (12 Tch, 10 Ff) | CMB: +1, CMD: 13 | F: +2, R: +3, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +2, SM: +8 | Speed 30ft | Arcane Reservoir 5/7 | Spells: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions:

Imperia's eyes roved about in her head, attempting to take everything in at once as quickly as she could. Maybe at the very least she'd be able to find her way back out to some of those shops to pick up a decent meal a little later. Of course the Palace dominated the scenery here. The impressive building only got more impressive as she neared and could make out the finely detailed columns and the masterful craftsmanship of the architecture itself.

"Excuse me," she said, moving towards the elder fellow. "Perhaps you might be able to set me in the right direction. You see, I'm one of the new Commissioners, and although I've managed to find my way this far, I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the layout of the building itself." She pulls the folded letter from the pouch at her waist and offers it forward as she would a party invitation.

"Oh, and I'm Imperia Voralius. A pleasure," she added, giving the man what she hoped was an endearing smile. It was only a hope because her stomach was churning with nerves. The smile probably looked a little more pained than she intended.


The old gray man doesn't even look up at the offered appointment notification. Rudely he keeps his eyes on the list in front of him, muttering to himself as he leafs through pages of parchment. A few times, a breeze shuffles them but he manages to hold them, and audibly sighs at the disturbance from routine.

”Imperia Voralius” He repeats, blandly, reading the list. ”Ah yes, you report to the Ministry of Trade. Right after going in the large doors in front of you..” He waves a hand at the giant, gold-inlad doors, big enough to wheel in a house.

”Take a right into the first door you see, three lefts, down a flight of stairs and a right. In front of you will be the Minister of Trade's outer office. Please, try not to get lost. There an enough of you wandering around the building at the moment. The Councilors are bad enough...” He audibly sighs again as the wind tugs a stray parchment.

All of this is said without looking up, even at a shoulder imp.

Feel free to step inside, but stop halfway on your appointed journey (and make a Perception check), if you take his advice. Or go crazy and crash the People's Council, up to you.


LN Chelaxian Arcanist(spell specialist) 4 | HP: 17/17 | AC: 12 (12 Tch, 10 Ff) | CMB: +1, CMD: 13 | F: +2, R: +3, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +2, SM: +8 | Speed 30ft | Arcane Reservoir 5/7 | Spells: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions:

Imperia felt very very small as she entered the wide doors of the Palace, both figuratively and literally. "...Told you to dress up," hissed the imp on her shoulders as his large black eyes darted around to get a quick once over of the place. He liked to know where things were as much as she did, and they both detested the unknown. Though his hatred of it tended to be a little more aggressive.

Making a solid effort to ignoring Ziggip's comment about her attire, a comment she had made to herself several times today already, she slowly picks her way through the entrance. The click of her shoes and the gentle swishing of her skirts as she walks echo off every wall. Halls and doors seemed to branch off in every direction, leading to places she could only imagine were teeming with people of immense power she could only dream of holding herself. Not that power was what she was looking for, though she wasn't sure if she'd say no if someone offered it to her.

A right into the first door... Two--? No, three lefts...

Finding her way around was proving to be a bit of a challenge, and part way there she stopped and looked about, trying to get a bearing on where exactly she was. Perhaps mark a few notable features she could use to remember her way back next time.

Imperia's Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 18
Ziggip's Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (12) + 9 = 21
I figure Ziggip occasionally withholds information from Imperia, so even if he notices something, he may not mention it unless specifically asked. Feel free to use that any way you see fit. Sassy and fickle imps...


As Imperia leaves the main entryway and atrium, the decorum quickly loses the grandeur and majesty. The vast marble friezes and glittering windows are replaced by drab corridors and stout wooden doors. It starts to look like any other bureaucratic building, except for the vast size.

Imperia passes a few people, hurrying this way or that. Most give her a glance (and sometimes a hard look at the imp) and then move on quickly. Today is obviously a busy day. Imperia manages to get half her journey right, and she has followed the directions well so far, despite the vast tangled web that is the Palace.

She finds herself alone in a rather wider hallway, filled with many doors and few people. Near each door, barely readable in the dim light, are small brass labels. The door on her left reads, The Minister of Arcane Matters in small cursive script. The door is open wide, revealing a large office, piled with papers, two desks and cabinets overfull with more papers. A small window shows scenes of the tropical Shackles, letting some light in the subterranean space. It appears to be empty.

On her right, is another door. Its label is lettered in huge, square letters The Minister of Public Works. Imperia sharp eyes detect tiny wafts of blue smoke curling from under the barely cracked door, a rotten egg smell and a strange rhythmic pounding coming from inside.


LN Chelaxian Arcanist(spell specialist) 4 | HP: 17/17 | AC: 12 (12 Tch, 10 Ff) | CMB: +1, CMD: 13 | F: +2, R: +3, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +2, SM: +8 | Speed 30ft | Arcane Reservoir 5/7 | Spells: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions:

Arcane Matters, huh? I could get behind a department like that, she thought to herself. Not that she knew what they did there, but it involved the arcane and that was really all the mattered to her. She gave a small peek inside and smiled; it looked an awful lot like a few of her professors' offices back at the Acadamae. Not wanting to be caught snooping, she quickly turned away from the door and prepared to continue trying to navigate the apparently endless hallways.

But, that's when she saw the door opposite of the one she had just peeked in.

"Oh dear," Imperia murmured, eyeing up the unusual wafts of smoke. Ziggip gave a little shrug from his perch on her shoulder. She stepped towards the door and gave a tentative knock. "Hello? Is everything alright in there? I was just walking by and noticed the smoke..." Looks like Public Works gets a little more exciting than it sounds.


The door flies open at the merest knock, aided by some mechanical device attached to the hinges. Behind the (steel re-enforced) door lies a very different office than the one across the hall. This is a round room, of rough cut stone blocks. It is something like an amphitheater, with a depressed middle creating a vague sort of stage, with a few short steps leading 'out' of the pit onto some tables and cabinets along the circling walls.

Near the floor, a gnome is hammering away at a small model of...'something' on a steel desk. The gnome is short, even for his kind, with a shock of vibrant green hair, spiked crazily. His dress is not very formal, mostly consisting of a tool belt, a leather apron and goggles. The...'something' is emitting a blue of blue smoke that is quickly filling the entire chamber.

As the door swings open, a bell rings. The sound distract the gnome from his persistent hammering enough to glance up and take Imperia in. After this, he turns back to his hammering and asks, conversationally, ”Do you know anything about lighthouses?”. The beating of the hammer grows more frantic.

Feel free to roll whatever skills or anything you want. I won't always prompt you, mostly up to you. Just wanted to say that.


LN Chelaxian Arcanist(spell specialist) 4 | HP: 17/17 | AC: 12 (12 Tch, 10 Ff) | CMB: +1, CMD: 13 | F: +2, R: +3, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +2, SM: +8 | Speed 30ft | Arcane Reservoir 5/7 | Spells: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions:

Imperia raised an inquisitive eyebrow as the door swung open, revealing a rather odd looking office. It almost reminded her of a miniature lecture theatre mixed with a tinker shop. And the fellow actually doing the tinkering looked like a tinker shop was exactly where he belonged.

"Er, I have to admit I do not," she said, trying to sound apologetic through her mild confusion. The smoke tickles at her nose and she gives a mighty sneeze, burying her face into her arm to avoid giving anyone an unneeded shower. Ziggip grabs a fist full of her hair in an attempt to keep his spot, looking quite offended by the disturbance. "Ah, Nethys bless me. Apologies, sir. if I may ask, are you working on something for the lighthouse? I saw one marked on the map of the city--- Oh! Oh dear, I better get going or I'm going to be late! I'm a new commissioner you see. Do you happen to know the way to where I'm supposed to be by chance...?"


As she says no, the turns back to his hammering. After one final, mighty smash so hard she is sure it'll shatter the table as well, the model stops emitting smoke. As it clears quickly, she sees it is a model of a lighthouse, a very tall, angular one. The gnome steps back to take it in, frowning at the odd puff of smoke that still sometimes bursts from the top.

”Just a model I'm working on, to replace that ancient hulk in the harbor. Modernity, is the key, let me tell you....” He stops and cocks his head towards Imperia.

”Commissioner? Are you one of mine? He says,his voice hungry. Then he pulls out, somewhere amongst the massive tool belt, a folding calendar.”Ah yes, today is the new election day! New blood. Anyway, I think I need someone to measure all the cobblestones on the Avenue of t \he Gods. I have a sneaking suspicion some of them are half an inch too long. Must be checked.”


LN Chelaxian Arcanist(spell specialist) 4 | HP: 17/17 | AC: 12 (12 Tch, 10 Ff) | CMB: +1, CMD: 13 | F: +2, R: +3, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +2, SM: +8 | Speed 30ft | Arcane Reservoir 5/7 | Spells: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions:

Imperia takes a half step back and shakes her head. Measuring cobblestones? That sounded downright miserable. And mundane. And boring. She was sure there was some amount of horror written on her face despite the efforts she put into hiding it. If nothing else, the twisted look of distaste was clear enough on Ziggip.

"Ah, I don't actually know where I'm supposed to be," she throws in rather hastily. "Don't know how they pick where Commissioners will be around her, but I'm sure I'll find out soon enough." She cleared her throat and took a step back. "So, I suppose I'll be on my way to try to find where I ought to be..."


Imperia manages to escape the gnome, who turns back indifferently to his model. After leaving the strange room (and strange occupant) she finds herself in the same maze of hallways and corridors. But the man's directions were good and she soon finds herself outside the door labeled The Minister of Trade.

It too, stands open but instead of an office (or a crazed tinker's workshop) inside is a large and spacious waiting room, with offices branching off. With desks, cabinets and worktables, it is obviously a busy place of business. Right now however, it is tightly packed with dozens of Commissioners, all fighting for space, prestige and air.

The crowded people jostled each other, stepping on toes, and swearing in the wet heat of so many packed bodies. Tempers seem to be high as Imperia watches people struggle there way to this desk or that, apparently confused as her on where to go. She notes several well-dressed people seem to be gliding in and out of big offices in the back while the more normal dressed have to fight for spaces in lines.

Just inside the door, sits a desk with the sign All New Commissioners Sign in Here. Behind the desk is a bored looking man, but his eyes widen then sharpen on the imp. He speaks over the loud din of the frenzied office.

”Hello, and who might you be. Another new Commissioner?”.


LN Chelaxian Arcanist(spell specialist) 4 | HP: 17/17 | AC: 12 (12 Tch, 10 Ff) | CMB: +1, CMD: 13 | F: +2, R: +3, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +2, SM: +8 | Speed 30ft | Arcane Reservoir 5/7 | Spells: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions:

Imperia's gaze sweeps across the jumbled tangle of bodies, her heart briefly going out to the halflings or gnomes who very well may be buried under the taller folk. Why they chose a room this size over any other to settle the new Commissioners in was beyond her. In her opinion, the hallways may have been a better choice. Or the main foyer, then no one would be getting lost. At that thought, she wondered just how many new Commissioners were out there lost in the endless maze of hallways and rooms. Or if any had known about lighthouses. It takes a moment after the gentleman at the front desk greeted her before she registered that someone was speaking to her over the buzz of the room.

"Oh, yes. Yes, I'm Imperia Voralius," she said once she pulled her eyes away from the on-goings in the room to settle on the man. "New Commissioner, though what it is exactly I'll be commissioning hasn't been disclosed to me. I take it I've finally found my way to where I'm supposed to be?"


"Imperia Vorlius?” He murmurs while checking a list. Not seeing her name, he moves on to another, much longer list. ”Ah yes, you are one of ours. You have no idea how many Commissioners get lost to other Ministry and end up here. Although the Ministry of Trade does get our fair share, and then some.” The end of his sentence is nearly lost in another scuffle amongst the packed bodies, but it soon dies away.

He starts up again, ”Just go to that office there, and they'll fill out all the paperwork for you and such. We run a tight ship here.” He says, his proud words being undercut as a dwarf curses loudly in Dwarven across the room. The office indicated is across this morass of struggling, battling bodies.

Roll Acrobatics (or any other skill you think best) to get across, if you go.


LN Chelaxian Arcanist(spell specialist) 4 | HP: 17/17 | AC: 12 (12 Tch, 10 Ff) | CMB: +1, CMD: 13 | F: +2, R: +3, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +2, SM: +8 | Speed 30ft | Arcane Reservoir 5/7 | Spells: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions:

Imperia sighed. Of course she was going to have to wade through all these bodies to get there. Ministry of Trade, least I know where I'm assigned now, she thought as she tried to gauge the best way into the throng of people. Maybe I should have lost myself in that arcane matters room.

"Excuse m--- If I could just---" she tried to gently slide her way through, but it was a bit like trying to get through a brick wall. She gave yet another heavy sigh. She was going to have to do this the hard way. "Buckle up, Ziggy. This might get a little rocky."

Ziggip nodded and grabbed a chunk of her hair, wrapped it around himself a few times, then held on. He gave her a thumbs up indicating he was ready to go.

With a cringe, she pushed into the crowed and began the tasking chore of trying to make her way to the front of the offices.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 2 = 9


It isn't a pretty journey. Toes are crushed, ribs are poked, and people jostled. She makes it through but she leaves many angry humans, halflings and one irate half-orc in her wake. A few people even push her back, roughly.

Take 2 points on non-lethal damage

Imperia does make it however, struggling through the sea of bodies. When she reaches the assigned office, there is, thankfully, a small clear space. Standing outside the door is a tall, slim man, well-dressed and clean-shaven. Her regards Imperia for a long moment, his eyes sweeping over her.

Then, in a refined Almas accent ”What brings you hear, My Lady? This is not a place for a delicate flower.” he adds grandly.

Behind him the door is closed but the odd loud word can be heard through it.

Roll Perception if you want to try to listen through the door.


LN Chelaxian Arcanist(spell specialist) 4 | HP: 17/17 | AC: 12 (12 Tch, 10 Ff) | CMB: +1, CMD: 13 | F: +2, R: +3, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +2, SM: +8 | Speed 30ft | Arcane Reservoir 5/7 | Spells: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions:

Imperia and Ziggip break through the wall of people into a clearing, both looking a little worse for wear. She was pretty sure that fat dwarf had simply crushed the bones in her toe and the elbow to the ribs she took from that mean looking woman probably cracked one of them. In the clearing stood a rather dignified looking man, and for about the billionth time today she thought she should have dressed up.

As he spoke to her, she thought she heard something coming from the door behind him.
Perception: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (3) + 0 = 3
Probably just her imagination.

"Oh, I'm actually a new Commissioner. The man at the front sent me up here," she explained as she quickly tried to adjust her outfit and smooth out her hair after their ordeal through the crowd. "I'm supposed to be filling out paperwork in that office there."


The young man politely pretends to ignore Imperia's emergency primping.”Ah, a new Commissioner. Much like myself. Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Annaro Kilest.” He gives an elegant bow, as best he can in the crowded space.

”Perhaps you have heard of my family? No?” He seems a little crestfallen but goes on ”We make our fortune in....” he pauses for a moment, looking almost guilty, “in fashion.” He smooths his impeccable blue jacket, crested with proud Andoran eagles.

”I can't believe they are making us wait so long.” he says, looking at the door. ”Do they not know we all have busy lives full of appointments? And fair ladies who must be tended to?” He pauses, favoring Imperia with a gracious smile. Just as the gallant remark passes however, the door slams open to the harsh word ”Offal!” being yelled at maximum volume.

The man doing the yelling is older, with a certain aged plumpness about him. His whiskered face was wrinkled and probably kind when he was not yelling at the top of his lungs. ”Twenty years!” He shouts into the office ”Twenty years in Customs and now you throw me out because of 'political concerns'! Before the man in the office has a chance to speak, the yelling man notices Annaro. ”Oh, is it you that bribed your way into the office that feeds my children and grandchild? That threw me out on the street like day old bread?'

”Sir, I don't know what...” Annaro says smoothly but is soon cut off by the raving man.

Thrown me out from my post of twenty years. Serving the nation I fought for, bled for in the wars against the Chelish! While you were but a babe, if that. You sicken me, and all of Andoran with you!” With that, he draws and fist and throw himself at Annaro, who seems shocked to the core.


LN Chelaxian Arcanist(spell specialist) 4 | HP: 17/17 | AC: 12 (12 Tch, 10 Ff) | CMB: +1, CMD: 13 | F: +2, R: +3, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +2, SM: +8 | Speed 30ft | Arcane Reservoir 5/7 | Spells: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions:

Imperia returns Annaro's bow with a well formed curtsy of her own. Growing up in a proud Chelish family gave her some social graces to work with. "In fashion? Your whole family?" she asks inquisitively before looking down to her own rather plain attire. "I may just have to see before my next fashion faux pas. I'm afraid I didn't exactly get a dress code attached to my summons," she adds, looking rather bashful. For once, thankfully, Ziggip keeps his mouth shut on the topic despite a wide grin growing on his devilish little face.

Though she didn't voice it, she had actually been glad things were going slow this morning, otherwise she may not have made it on time. Well now, isn't he just a charmer, she thought to herself as he gave her the well placed compliment and smile. "Well, I'm sure you have plenty of ladies who---" Her words were cut short by the older man who burst out of the office.

There's nothing quite like furious drama on the first day at a new job to really set nerves on end. And kill the mood when there was a rather dashing gentleman chatting her up. Feeling rather pouty, she watches the scene play out before her. Ah, a firing. I wonder what political concerns warrant termination around here. You'd think everything was technically a political concern.

But passive curiosity turned to concern as the man rounded on Annaro. "I hardly think that's a fair accusa--- Oh, Gods!" she exclaimed as the man threw himself towards Annaro.

Do I have time to react to this punch being thrown? If so, I have a follow up written below, if not, disregard anything below this!

As the man rushes forward, Imperia does the only thing she could think to do in the moment. She slides a foot out in front of her and in the path of the man.

Trip: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (12) - 1 = 11

She winces preemptively, preparing for the crunch of either an older man hitting the ground or a fist hitting a pretty face.


Annaro seems quite taken (and surprised) at Imperia's elegant curtsy. But before he can react everything happens in a blur.

Imperia is quick however, and she sends the man sprawling. The jostling crowd presses inc loser, trying to see the action. Falling face first, the older man rebounds quickly, looking about a bit groggily for his attacker. He spots Imperia and his face hardens, then his eyes catch the imp and he flares, ”Chelish? We now sell the nation out to devil worshipers? How dare you, why I ought to..” Before he can continue a large half-orc wades through the crowd and grabs his arm.

”That's enough of that.” The half-orc says, not too harshly. ”Lets take a walk outside, get some air.” The man's anger melts away in that strong embrace and he is whisked through the crowd and away.

Annaro straightens his clothes and hair hurriedly (much like Imperia's primping before) before adding, ”My glorious protector and I don't even know your name! I wish to learn it...and more. Meet me at six o'clock at the Eagle's Nest resturant. It is right off the People's Concord. I look forward to seeing you there.” His eyes glow but then he is cut off again by a voice inside the office.

”Next! And that doesn't mean you Annaro, the Minister wants to see you personally.” With a wink to Imperia he saunters off.

If you wish, you can make a roll of any skill you like and have it register on Annaro.

Inside the office is a balding, but sharp looking man behind a small battered desk. He is fussing with papers and forms, obviously tossed in the outburst of 'Offal'. Stacks of papers, scrolls and such are everywhere, obviously moved in a hurry. ”I can't wait till we can go back to our proper offices...” He complains to himself then gives Imperia his full attention.

”Ah, a new Comissioner. Sorry about that last display, usually this is a very prestigious office. I assure you, that outbrust as an anomaly. The Trade Ministry is probably the most important of all the Ministries in the city. Which is why we snapped you up, we need someone of your training.” He searches through his papers.

”You are being assigned the job of Magical Imports and Exports Inspector. Your task will be to check and report on all Magical Imports and Exports flowing out of Portside (and other places as required). Please sign this paper to that effect.”

The man hands out a paper, elegantly written. It is a simple contract binding Imperia to 'fulfill her duties to the best of her abilities and within the confines of Andoran law'. Despite the briefness, it looks like a formal, binding document.


LN Chelaxian Arcanist(spell specialist) 4 | HP: 17/17 | AC: 12 (12 Tch, 10 Ff) | CMB: +1, CMD: 13 | F: +2, R: +3, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +2, SM: +8 | Speed 30ft | Arcane Reservoir 5/7 | Spells: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions:

Imperia immediately feels bad as the man, who she can only assume is Offal, topples over as her foot catches one of his. The poor fellow has had a rough day already and she wasn't helping any. Either way, regardless of if she had stepped in or not, someone was going to get hurt. At least this way it wasn't a bystander at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Not that she apologized, of course. In a legalistic state like Cheliax, children are taught from day one not to apologize for anything, even when it is their fault. Saying sorry was like admitting guilt, and anything following an apology was usually ignored in favor of swift justice.And then the name calling started. "Devil worshiper?" she gasped, looking quite offended. Oh, right, Ziggip. She made no further comments to the man as he was taken away by a rather burly half-orc. Instead she glanced over to quirk an eyebrow at Ziggip who was cackling away at the entire display. "You could at least try to be polite," she scolded lightly before she returned her attentions to Annaro.

"I think I already--" she started, but was cut off by man calling out from the office. "--Have plans," she finishes with a sigh as Annaro walks away. After two dateless years, she finds herself with dinner plans with two men on the same day. Sure, one was probably out of pity and thanks, the other simply a a get together with an old friend, but she'd take what she can get. She was going to have to find one of them at some point today and reschedule. But that would have to wait for the time being.

Imperia steps into the office nervously. She had no idea what to expect, especially after tripping someone directly outside the door. She waits patiently as the man behind the desk sorts himself out, silently wondering why there was a need to move offices. Not that she was going to pry just yet, she'd have plenty of time to catch up with current building events later.

"Magical Imports and Exports? Any chance I can get a run down of the specifics of the job?" she asks. At least they know to play off of strengths, she mused to herself as she thumbed over the contract. She reads each word carefully, combing over the document for any loopholes or traps she wasn't willing to fall into.

Unsure what type of roll it might be to navigate the legalities of a contract, but I've listed my modifiers that might be applicable. I'll just roll a straight 1d20 and you can feel free to use whichever modifier you think is the best suited for the check!

Find Loopholes or Traps in Contract: 1d20 ⇒ 20
Knowledge(local) +10
Linguistics +8
Perception +0
Sense Motive +7


The contract is simple yet binding. You note the language is plain and straightforward but doesn’t seem to allow for you not to agree. A small clause seems to indicate you serve, in a way, under the Supreme Elect, not the People’s Council. A curious lack of term limits and other protections. It does mention you can be moved at the whim of 'the Supreme Elect and other august offices'.

The man shrugs at Imperia’s question. ”It is a very simple job. On your assigned import or export areas, you’ll inspect for Magical Items. When you notice these, you describe them on a form and send them to the answerable offices. Your reports will be answerable to the…” A pause as the man efficiently checks a lengthy list, ” local Trade Ministry agent, the Ministry of Tombs and Relics, the Ministry of Planar Affairs, the Postmistress General, and the Ministry of Arcane Matters. Oh yes, and the Ministry of Divinations and Portents if you find anything ominous.” A brief pause as the list is stowed away and more paper is brought out.

”Here is your location of work, the local Ministry of Trade building.” And she is handed a card with an address deep in Portside. ”You’ll be expected to start your duties tomorrow. Be there early, you’ll have a busy day ahead of you. “

He considers Imperia for a long moment and the bureaucrat fades for a moment to just another man, ”Your local agent will guide you for the first few days. Do not worry; you’ll be well taken care of. Any other questions, ask the agent. Next!” The last word is an abrupt dismissal.

Feel free to leave the Trade Ministry if you like. Try not to leave the Palace in one post though.


LN Chelaxian Arcanist(spell specialist) 4 | HP: 17/17 | AC: 12 (12 Tch, 10 Ff) | CMB: +1, CMD: 13 | F: +2, R: +3, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +2, SM: +8 | Speed 30ft | Arcane Reservoir 5/7 | Spells: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions:

Imperia looks to Ziggip, a master of loopholes if there ever was one, and he merely shrugs. It seemed plain enough, if a little odd compared to what she was expecting. She took a pen from the man's desk and dipped it in the ink. Her signature flowed smoothly at the bottom in a loopy and decorative script.
"Sounds like I'll be making more than a few connections," she put in as he listed off the departments she'd be working with. She handed the contract back to him.

"Thank you, sir. I'll be sure to get my rest early tonight."

As she left the office with a sigh when she saw the crowd of people still creating a human wall in front of her.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6

She was about as graceful as the last time she pushed through which isn't saying much. More toes were trod on and more elbowed ribs were had. When she finally broke out the other side she looked a bit like she had been rolling about on the floor.or perhaps having a wrestle with the local riff raff. She straightened her self up once again before striding purposefully back the way she came. Of course, at the first fork she finds herself hard pressed to remember which way she had come from. And she still needed to find either Jorhan or Annaro to read schedule one dinner date or the other. She opted to take the right hallway.


Imperia found herself in the vast, marble clad atrium of the Palace. The huge windows let in streams of lights, making her squint among the vast columns and elegant railings. The atrium was full of milling hangers-ons, aides, new Commissioners and other figures talking, debating, wheeling and dealing.

As Imperia takes this in, a boy (only in his teens) pops up next to her, clad in bright blue says brightly, ”Commissioner Imperia Voralius?”. Seeing her recognition he smiles with obvious relief. ”Good, the Councilor described you! I mean, Councilor Metz. He says he hopes you are having a good day and that he plans to meet you at six o'clock at the Succulent Eel.” He pauses and when nothing happens, he adds, ”I am one of the Council page-boys, you can trust me.” With that he holds out a hand for a tip.


LN Chelaxian Arcanist(spell specialist) 4 | HP: 17/17 | AC: 12 (12 Tch, 10 Ff) | CMB: +1, CMD: 13 | F: +2, R: +3, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +2, SM: +8 | Speed 30ft | Arcane Reservoir 5/7 | Spells: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions:

Imperia wondered if she looked as obviously new as some of the others lingering around the wide foyer. She certainly hoped not; she liked to think she had more composure than that.

Not sure how much to tip a page, so I'm going to have Imperia roll a Knowledge(local) to see if perhaps she knows more than me. Whatever amount she thinks is appropriate based on her check, she'll pay up to the boy (even if I totally bomb the roll lol)
Knowledge(local): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (19) + 10 = 29

"Oh, uhm..." She digs around her belt pouch and finds a few coins, placing them into the boy's hand. "I don't suppose there's page-boys for the Commissioners? I'm trying to send a message to Commissioner Annaro Kilest. He was off to meet with the Minister of Trade, last I saw. Trying to reschedule dinner with him, but I haven't the slightest how to find him." It would be better to put Annaro on hold, she had decided. There was something to be said for the comfort of meeting with a friend after a first day of work. Plus, friends before mens... or something.


Take 3 coppers out of your money

The boy snatches up the copper and tucks it away in a flash. ”Minstry of Trade...oh you mean the temp offices downstairs.” Then his face darkens, ”It'll be crazy down there today. I won't go for less then a silver...” He stops, and his face turns red. ”I mean, ma'am, it'll be long hard work to find him, and a silver would go a long way...”

He stands up straight then, serious now, ”Please describe him fully and tell me exactly what you want me to tell him. I'll find him, I promise.” He says proudly.


LN Chelaxian Arcanist(spell specialist) 4 | HP: 17/17 | AC: 12 (12 Tch, 10 Ff) | CMB: +1, CMD: 13 | F: +2, R: +3, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +2, SM: +8 | Speed 30ft | Arcane Reservoir 5/7 | Spells: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions:

Imperia, relieved that she finally found a messenger, dug around her pouch a little more for a silver piece. "I don't blame you. I wouldn't either now that I know what's down there," she grumbled mostly to herself, but with a smile for the young boy. "Annaro Kilest, he's tall, slim, clean shaven. He's sporting a blue jacket with Andoran eagles on it. And he speaks like the upper class of Almas."

She continues to describe Annaro to the best of her abilities, making not of his hair and eye color, as well as the type of shoes he was wearing.

"Let him know I have a previous engagement this evening, but would be glad to see him tomorrow," she instructed the boy as she pressed the silver piece into his hand.

About what time of day is it now?


About noon or so. I was going to have the page say that.

"I'll find him, ma'am. I always find them, in the end." With that he disappears into the labyrinth, silver in hand.

After he goes, Imperia hears the rising and falling of voices outside the Palace. They sound muffled and distant inside the marble walls, but many of them are strident and firm.

Assuming you go outside

In front of the Palace is a wide plaza of paved stone. Like the rest of the Field of Concord, it is immaculately kept, and no grass pokes between paving stones. A number of shade trees and benches are sprinkled among the vast area.

Also scattering across it are people, bunching in odd groups and and clumps. A brief glance tells Imperia why. The clumps are circling around speakers, many of them on upturned boxes or crates. Gesticulating heavily (and some basically yelling) they seem quite intent on convincing the crowd.

Most of the crowd seems unmoved however, and moves from speaker to speaker like connoisseurs at a wine tasting, pondering, considering before moving on to the next. A number of armed and burnished Eagle Knights circulate in the crowd, seeming bored of the routine. Some speaker warrant a permanent Knight, standing at the edge of the crowds, watching carefully but not interfering.

The speaker closest to Imperia rates one of these watching Knights and his voice explains why. Codwin has been in power for eleven years, is that not tyranny? Is there no limit? Why is the Council silent on this great matter, this new tyrant growing up right in our midst? perhaps, like him, they are tied up in the pursuit of power, creating a new noble class!" he goes on at length, brandishing a copy of Imperial Betrayal (the credo of the People's Revolt) like a religious totem. The listeners seem unimpressed and even a few hecklers speak up to defend Codwin, "he was a war hero!" and the like. The speaker continues on however, ignoring them.

Other speakers dot the square speaking on everything from recognizing the Bellflower movement, to high level corruption, and even Dwarven rights in the Tamuth District. The crowds mingle freely from one to another in the warm, sunny day. There are even a few food vendors at the edge of the field, tastefully providing refreshments to the listeners.

Feel free to interact with the speaker's crowd or the speaker himself. or, if he bores you, find one with a more interesting topic!


LN Chelaxian Arcanist(spell specialist) 4 | HP: 17/17 | AC: 12 (12 Tch, 10 Ff) | CMB: +1, CMD: 13 | F: +2, R: +3, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +2, SM: +8 | Speed 30ft | Arcane Reservoir 5/7 | Spells: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions:

Imperia watched as the boy darted away. He certainly moved with enough confidence; hopefully that boded well for his competence.

Her ears caught the soft sound of voices come from outside. She couldn't make out what they were saying, but some of them sounded serious. Perhaps a bit preachy.

She let herself out and blinked in the bright light. The sun was at its highest point and beamed down on the picturesque plaza that sprawled out in front of the Palace. Dotted around the plaza were clusters of people listening to speakers, the closest of which was speaking out against the current Supreme Elect. She had heard smatterings of gossip back home revolving around the issue of how long he's been in his current position. Imperia never saw issue with it; in Cheliax the ruling class ruled until they died, basically and things were working fine-ish there. Surely one that got elected could stay as long as he wanted.

Not wanting to cause a fuss or step on toes on her first day, she held her tongue on the matter and moved on towards the next speaker. She never got too close, preferring to keep a few paces back, but close enough to clearly hear what was being said. Might as well find out what the current issues are, she thought. Apparently Ziggip was less interested, as he was comfortably snoozing in his usual spot on her shoulder.


For the next few hours, Imperia wanders among the milling crowds. It is an odd, thoughtful atmosphere like people viewing fine art. Careful consideration, then moving on to the next interesting idea. A warm breeze ruffles Imperia’s hair (and sometimes threatens to dislodge Ziggip) as she joins the milling groups.

She hears speakers on many different topics, ranging from over-militarization, complaints on the collection of power in Almas, a number of people concerned with the power of the Lumber Consortium, worries of the rising of Cheliax power, sheer irritation at the massive and clumsy ministries, one dedicated half-orc speaking passionately about pollution in Mugget and even a few chronic people wishing feudalism came back. Those last seem so professional, she hears whispers they are paid for speakers.

A number of others are simply promenading up and down the Field of Concord, enjoying the nice weather and showing off varied finery of cloth. For such a republican city, looking good is apparently still a concern. The small benches are crowded with young lovers talking or friends playing chess in the sun.

A few people give the imp a hard look (a nation that overthrew Cheliax doesn’t look kindly on imps) but no one gives Imperia any trouble.

Feel free to stop or interact with any. If not, tell me what you plan to do. you have a few hours in the city before your meeting with Johran at the Succulent Eel


LN Chelaxian Arcanist(spell specialist) 4 | HP: 17/17 | AC: 12 (12 Tch, 10 Ff) | CMB: +1, CMD: 13 | F: +2, R: +3, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +2, SM: +8 | Speed 30ft | Arcane Reservoir 5/7 | Spells: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions:

The sun certainly feels nice after spending her morning trapped within the confines of a labyrinth of hallways and offices. She takes her time wandering the plaza, stopping once to point out a game winning move to a pair playing chess. In her experience, white was usually the winner.

All these people so passionate about their government policies, she thought. And here I am, now an active part of that government, and I don't know the slightest thing. Determined to educate herself on these foreign concepts, Imperia begins keeping a sharp ear out for any concerns that may relate to trade. If she had to guess, someone was going to complain about exporting things we ought to use at home and importing things we could probably make better here. Even if it's not in the direct scope of her own work, surely she should at least know something of the concerns of her own ministry.

She'd like to keep her ears open and stop to listen to any speakers who may be speaking on an issue that relates directly (or even indirectly) to trade if there is one about.


Imperia's quest for talk about her new and upcoming are of interest, trade, brings her to one well-attended speaker. A short, stocky woman, with graying hair and hard eyes, her crowd is larger and more appreciative then most. When she makes a strong statement or asks a question, the crowd responds loudly and firmly in her favor, like a religious congregation. Even her assigned Eagle Knight seems entranced with her message.

And the message is a strong one, decrying large business consortiums (foreign and domestic) as subverting democracy and robbing Androan of it's natural resources. The stories she tells of the Lumber Consortium in Darkmoon Vale chill the blood (if they are true). An able and convincing speaker, her set-up of boxes is more professional then most, and a basket at her feet collects coins from well-wishers. The basket is quite full.

After another strong attack on ”veiled evil interests at the very heart of Androan” and a plea for stronger customs work, she announces she needs a break and sits in the shade of a nearby tree, drinking water. She waves off the crowd of well-wishers who approach her, but she catches Imperia's eye and holds it. She seems curious and interesting in the arcanist, but calmly drinks her water.


LN Chelaxian Arcanist(spell specialist) 4 | HP: 17/17 | AC: 12 (12 Tch, 10 Ff) | CMB: +1, CMD: 13 | F: +2, R: +3, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +2, SM: +8 | Speed 30ft | Arcane Reservoir 5/7 | Spells: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions:

Imperia listens to the speaker until she wraps up her speech. Very charismatic, she thought as she watched the speaker send away what she could only describe as fans. I should introduce myself. Make her feel listened to. Thats what politicians do, right? Despite watching her send people away, Imperia strode up to the woman with confidence.

"Good afternoon, madame. I'm Imperia Voralius, new Commissioner with the Trade Ministry. Rousing speech. You're very well spoken," she said with an ingratiating smile. "I'm trying to get a feel for the issues of the day, and though this is not tirectly my department, I wanted to compliment you on putting together such a compelling argument."


The speaker nods warily, obviously a bit confused. ”I don't often get complimented by members of your Ministry.” the word 'your' is laced with subtle contempt. The woman stands up, leaning on the bench for support.

”So your first assignment is to go quiet old Jolante Rubi? Are they finally listening?” She perks up until she sees the blank look on Imperia's face. ”Or am I caught up in my own ego? So, the real question isn't about trade at all, what is a Chelish woman doing so far east and how is she so bold as to speak to me?” Her face isn't rude or sneering but seemingly genuinely confused on Imperia's motives. A few of her followers have circled around, but in a curious way, not threatening. The Eagle Knight takes a step closer however, more focused then during the speech.


LN Chelaxian Arcanist(spell specialist) 4 | HP: 17/17 | AC: 12 (12 Tch, 10 Ff) | CMB: +1, CMD: 13 | F: +2, R: +3, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +2, SM: +8 | Speed 30ft | Arcane Reservoir 5/7 | Spells: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions:

"I swear I must have 'Cheliax' written on my forehead," she mumbles, mostly to herself. "I came here after I found my religious persuasion no longer aligned with my native country's strict... preferences," she admitted as diplomatically as possible. " I don't think it is bold to approach people invested in the ongoings of my ministry, so much as it is the proper thing to do. I may not have been born here, but from what I've heard, Commissioners serve the people. The government serves the people." At the last, she gestures around to everyone in the courtyard. "I figure I might as well hear all sides of a story, and I thought I might as well here yours first."

She had no idea if she was doing this right, but she had skimmed a few press releases on her way here. Was it cheesy? Maybe a little, but it was sincere.

"Might I sit down and join you?"


Seemingly nonplussed, Jolante patted the stone bench. ”Go ahead.” She says musingly, now sizing Imperia up closely. More urgently she waves the crowd away and they depart, even the Eagle Knight giving a respectful distance.

”So, a new Commissioner. Perhaps one so new they are not bought and sold? How interesting. I suppose congratulations are in order for your new post. I wish the office was as honorable as it is profitable. “ The older woman doesn't sit down, but paces slightly in front of Imperia.

”So you wish to hear my side of the story? That isn't much to say, not really. Almas is founded on strong, idealistic and wonderful qualities but it isn't living up to them, due to the influence of money and power. Sounds simple when put like that, doesn't it? It is simple, and nearly impossible to stop. Every new Councilor is instantly wrapped into bribes, every new Commissioner bought off and every new Minister ensnared by Codwin's machinations. Systemic.” She pauses, looking at Imperia closely.

”So where do you fit into all of this? I confess it is odd, sitting and talking to someone from the Ministry I spend so much time talking about. So, other then my shouting, what do you think of our fair city? Even in this latter days, it is quite a sight, is it not? Compared to dark and terrible, Cheliax.” She says it as a matter of course and the slur on Cheliax is so natural as to go unnoticed.


LN Chelaxian Arcanist(spell specialist) 4 | HP: 17/17 | AC: 12 (12 Tch, 10 Ff) | CMB: +1, CMD: 13 | F: +2, R: +3, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +2, SM: +8 | Speed 30ft | Arcane Reservoir 5/7 | Spells: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions:

Imperia's eyebrows raise as the woman speaks. She had heard that people got wrapped up in politics with a passion, but she herself had never really been taken with them. Probably due to her skepticism over the whole thing due to a Chelaxian upbringing. But this woman probably knew more about her post than she did.

"I'm simply here to examine the magical items, artifacts, and relics that come through our ports and borders," she explains. "Ensure that everything is legal, uncursed, and otherwise benign. I'm afraid the issues you touch on are likely several paygrades above my own."

I wonder what I do get paid. Hopefully enough to get by on here. Things are so expensive in bigger cities...

"The city is lovely. Well tended to from what I have seen, though I just arrived yesterday from my home in Piren's Bluff. So tell me, why is it you are so passionate about this particular topic? I understand care for your homeland, but clearly you go above and beyond the typical citizen in your passion."


Jolante's grin widens, ”You do know how to puncture pride. 'Well-tended'. We consider our city one of the marvels of Almas, just under the rank of Absalom or Oppara. And here, is a Piren's Bluff outlander calling it 'well-tended'. She laughs for a moment then says, ”Good. That means we still have work to do.”

She takes a long sip of water, pondering Imperia's question. ”We are very different then Cheliax. Most Andoran citizens, at least the good ones, have strong political opinions. Go ask any porter in the street or any washer woman and they will talk of trade, politics and foreign relations. I admit most citizens don't have the time, energy or skill to do what I do, but it is a matter of degree not kind. But someone has to do it, to save all of the promises made here.” Her hands sweeps over the Field of Concord.

”Someone must speak up to defend this...well-tended city, to counter the depravity. I am curious how long it will take you to realize I am right. I hope it is a long time, but I doubt it.” She stands up and looks at the lowering sun, casting thick rays of golden light on the field. The fountains look like molten gold and the grass shines with solar splendor.

”I must go, but if you ever hear or see anything you think it would be good for the citizens of Almas to know...” She scribbles an address on a bit of paper and hands it to Imperia. ”You can always find me here. It was nice meeting you, Imperia Voralius. And I don't think I've said that of a Commissioner for many a long year...” She offers out her hand.

Feel free to interject any social roll, interaction or speech you like here. After that...

Jolante Rubi walks away, chuckling to herself about 'well-tended'. Around Imepria the other speakers slowly pack up their things and the crowds disperse in the failing evening light. It is around 5 o'clock.


LN Chelaxian Arcanist(spell specialist) 4 | HP: 17/17 | AC: 12 (12 Tch, 10 Ff) | CMB: +1, CMD: 13 | F: +2, R: +3, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +2, SM: +8 | Speed 30ft | Arcane Reservoir 5/7 | Spells: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions:

Imperia tried to imagine commoners getting involved in politics back in Cheliax. It seemed ridiculous. At most, gossiping housewives would lean over fences and discuss the fashions of the courts and what up and coming young noble they'd like to see their daughters married off to. Hardly an invested interest.

"I suppose I'll have to wait and make my own opinions," she stated in response to Jolante's comment about finding out she was right. "I'd hate to take anyone's word for it before I even get my toes wet. I appreciate you taking the time to talk with me."

She took the address and gave it a once over before tucking it away in her belt pouch.

"The pleasure was mine," she says, taking Jolante's offered hand and giving it a shake. It wasn't the strongest handshake. She'd have to work on that.

She bids Jolante good bye, then looks about at the thinning crowed and departing speaker. It was getting late enough that she should probably try to find her way to the Succulent Eel. She vaguely recalls the shops and restaurants she had seen on her way to the Palace this morning and heads in that direction.

As she heads that way, she stops someone to ask directions.

"Excuse me, but do you know where the Succulent Eel is?"


Sorry for delay, family stuff (the good kind) going on. Should be able to post again late in evening!

Impera asks an elderly couple enjoying the soft evening light. Clearly walking the Field is a popular act for the more well-to citizens.

The old man smiles at the chance to be helpful, his bushy beard curling in a smile, ”Why, my dear, it is only a few blocks that way. Just take a left past that dolphin fountain and follow that marble path off the Field.” The old man points to the clearly marked way.

The wife joins in, ”Are you new to the city?” She asks gently. When Imperia nods or confirms she goes on, carefully, ”The Succulent Eel is one of the finest restaurants in Almas, where the top government people often go. They have a certian dress code...” She ends delicately, looking at Imperia's nice, but serviceable clothes.


LN Chelaxian Arcanist(spell specialist) 4 | HP: 17/17 | AC: 12 (12 Tch, 10 Ff) | CMB: +1, CMD: 13 | F: +2, R: +3, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +2, SM: +8 | Speed 30ft | Arcane Reservoir 5/7 | Spells: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions:

Okay, so I'm making two alternate posts, just because my posts here are situational.

If the place she is staying is nearby or on the way to the Succulent Eel:

Imperia groaned. "Thank you, sir and madame." She'd be pushing it for time, but she'd have to swing back and grab a nicer outfit. Maybe give her hair a bit of a brush. Besides, she could just be fashionably late.

She walked at a brisk pace, not stopping until she reached the large chest stowed at the foot of her bed. The next ten minutes were a blur of clothes and primping before she reemerged from her room looking much more put together than she had even this morning when she had first arrived in the Field of Concord. Her dress was a bold shade of red with a slim fit. 'Slinky' her mother had called it when she had seen it last year on their annual visit.

As she departed for the Succulent Eel, she just hoped she didn't look as tired as she felt. At least she would be in good company, if nothing else.

If the place she is staying is too far from the Succulent Eel:

That settled it. Imperia was never leaving the house again in less than Sunday's best. She sighed heavily, the weight of the day finally starting to press down on her. Of course he'd invite her to the nicest place in town. Didn't he see what she was wearing earlier?

"I don't suppose there's a shop near by that sells more appropriate attire?" she inquired, more to the woman than the man. She resigned herself to the fact that her hair would have to do as is, but maybe she could find some eyeliner and powder along the way, too. "I arrived in Almas on a summons just yesterday. I'm beginning to feel I may have to upgrade most of my wardrobe..."

Sorry about my own delays today as well! Got caught up in IRL politics and what not. Also, microwave is dead so I had to actually cook meals instead of zap 'em in the nuker. QQ


Using post #2 because Johran let you keep your stuff with him ...sadly he lives a good bit away from here..[/b]

The older man looks confused at her worry. But the wife looks concerned and pitying. ”Oh, child.” She says, forgetting the formal address that is polite in her concern. ”I don't think any clothing shop but Pinkier's will have clothes so fast, they use magic, but they will cost frightfully expensive. His shop is two blocks back from the Eel. If you hurry, he'll probably be open in time/”

The husband looks doubtful and adds, ”Is it worth the expense for a dinner date?” His wife gives him an arch look, nudges him in the ribs.

[ooc] Clearly the stakes have never been higher in Soaring Ambition!


LN Chelaxian Arcanist(spell specialist) 4 | HP: 17/17 | AC: 12 (12 Tch, 10 Ff) | CMB: +1, CMD: 13 | F: +2, R: +3, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +2, SM: +8 | Speed 30ft | Arcane Reservoir 5/7 | Spells: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions:

Imperia gave another groan. She'd have to stop by and see about these magical outfits. Maybe at the very least he could tailor what she was already wearing.

"Thank you so much," she said as she hurried along her way. She was going to have to kick it up a notch to even have a hope of getting anywhere on time.

The instructions from the couple had been easy enough to follow, and it wasn't long before she found herself in front of Pinkier's clothing shop. She took a deep breath and tried the door, fingers crossed that she'd made it in time and that he'd be able to help her. Preferably without draining her funds too badly.


The door opens easily, swinging on well-oiled hinges. A strange scent, a mixture of mothballs, overlaid with sweet-smelling lavender and ceder wood plans. The floor is well-oiled and smooth, neatly burnished like a mirror, warmed by lamps and well-kept candles.

The room is filled with racks of clothes, and well-set mirrors, to provide any angles for a patron. The clothes look elegant and well-made, obviously intended for various rich citizens of Almas. Imperia has wandered into a fashion-lovers dream.

Out from a back room comes shuffling a older man, with (artfully) windswept white hair and sporting a brightly colored jacket and matching yellow boots. All set off with red feather in his short cap, it makes quite a sight of upper-class fashion.

He bows to Imperia and says, ”What can I do for you at this late hour, madam?”. His eyes cover Imperia's body and his eyes light up. Not with lust but with greed. Single woman, late hour, and probably new to the town?

He smiles then and adds, ”If someone comes this late, in your...state, they are looking for quick replacements?”


LN Chelaxian Arcanist(spell specialist) 4 | HP: 17/17 | AC: 12 (12 Tch, 10 Ff) | CMB: +1, CMD: 13 | F: +2, R: +3, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +2, SM: +8 | Speed 30ft | Arcane Reservoir 5/7 | Spells: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions:

Imperia looked about the store a little bit like a kid in a candy shop. Sure, looks weren't everything, her brain was her biggest asset after all, but that didn't mean she didn't enjoy getting all dolled up.

"Yes. It's been a bit of a long day at work and I didn't realize that my attire was inappropriate for the dinner this evening. I'll be going to the Succulent Eel, if that gives you any indicator on what I'm looking for," as she spoke, she began peeking through the outfits around the room. "Preferably in a petite, so I don't look like an undersized fool dragging skirts around on the ground."

She caught her reflection in a mirror and sighed. "And if you happen to sell hair brushes and perhaps some powder, I'd take some of that, too. Dinner is in less than an hour."


The man’s grin widens, and he bows again in perfect high citizen fashion. His feather bobs elegantly as he straightens. ”But of course, ma’dam!” he claps his hands twice and workers start pouring out of side doors.

Quickly, a place is set up. A table is brought out, furnished with glowing mirrors and gilded chairs. A complete set of brushes, make-ups and even some tasteful jewelry is laid out, all polished to be blinding. Clothes and racks are pushed aside as more workers bring cloth, measuring tape and equipment in.

The man, presumably Pinkiers, instantly starts to work measuring her, talking while he does so. ”I, of course, have nothing in stock, everything is custom made here. But I have an express service, that’ll have you turning the Eel upside down. It is a bit of a guache place, but the politicians must be appeased….The Councilors enjoy playing dress-up as much as the nobles every did….” he talks while he works, the tape flying this way and that, and Pinkiers muttering and taking notes.

Feel free interact how you like. Needless to say, this is a fancy place with no prices labeled. How low-class would that be?


LN Chelaxian Arcanist(spell specialist) 4 | HP: 17/17 | AC: 12 (12 Tch, 10 Ff) | CMB: +1, CMD: 13 | F: +2, R: +3, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +2, SM: +8 | Speed 30ft | Arcane Reservoir 5/7 | Spells: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/3 | Active conditions:

Why do I feel like my first pay is going directly to cover this... she thought with a sigh as she watched the small army of employees set to work. It was like a well oiled machine, or perhaps an intricate dance as they all slid past one another doing their assigned tasks. Ziggip, having less than zero interest in the entire process, opted to perch himself up on a high shelf well out of the way so he could continue his nap. He was going to be up all night if he kept power napping like this.

"Gods I hope they don't expect the Commissioners to dress up as much as they do," she grumbled as she allowed herself to be poked and prodded through measurements. "I don't think I can wake myself up earlier enough to play dress up every day."

The confidence Pinkier worked with assured her she was in good hands, which was somewhat relaxing although she could practically feel her coin purse lightening as time went by.

To estimate the cost of the dress and services
Knowledge(local): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (10) + 10 = 20
Appraise: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (5) + 12 = 17

As she let him work, she had a thought.

"Have you ever heard of Annaro Kilest? I met him earlier today and he said his family made their fortune in fashion."

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