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The year is 4709AR and a Tuesday afternoon with cool temperatures and an overcast sky.
Since you have received your inheritance from your grandfather last week (and spent all of the money already!), you notice a tall, semi attractive woman has been following you around town for the past week. Far enough to not be a threat, but clearly she’s been interested in you ever since you purchased armor and weapons. Every time you have moved closer to her, she seems to have vanished into the crowd despite her looks. Image of woman
Tuesday is when you go to the market for food. It’s the best time to go, since the produce is the freshest and meant to last through Sunday, the end of the weekend shopping rush. You begin bargaining with the same old merchants you have in the past dealt with, but they suddenly seem to want more for their produce, noting your armor and weapons. “Did you come into some great wealth Enzren, or is this some kind of costume?” They clearly think it is wealth, and they are demanding more for things than you know you paid last week. Dismayed, you move to merchants you normally haven’t visited.
One of the merchants is always busy, not because of great prices, but because he always has some kind of chalk drawing of decent artwork in front of his store, which seems to attract some additional customers. You begin looking at the celery, when a relatively older man (perhaps 45-50) with slightly graying hair approaches you. He says, “You! You who have wealth. I know who you are! I need your help, I’m desperate!” He reaches out for your Morningstar.
The old man is absolutely terrified beyond all rational. Thus he's grabbing your morningstar.
The man assumes you wont help him, so he needs a weapon to defend himself. He has no intention of attacking you.
The same woman you've seen following you is not too far behind the man trying to grab your Morningstar.
Taking his old early morning patrol route that he did when he was a Dottari ...a little cool out here but at least it's not raining... he makes his way through the street waving to friends and keeping an stern eye out for trouble. ...I do miss the Dottari...well some parts of the Dottari...
Coming up to the market he glaces back to check if that women is still following him....she's awful persistent... and pretty....I wonder what she wants.... giving her a smile he shrugs his shoulders and continues toward the market ...back to the real reason I am out here....potatoes!
Ezren steps back and lays his hand over his morningstar. "Good morning sir, I will show you my weapon if you ask nicely. Please step back and calm down. Now what is your problem?
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You push the man back about 5 feet. ”Damn you, give it to me! Please, I beg you.” The man begins to sob, the tears mixing with his sweat and making a small puddle on the cold cobblestone street. ”I just…I just want my daughter to live…please she’s so sick. The crowd begins to part, as you hear some armored men coming.
”Step aside, step aside. Where is he?” You recognize the voice, it’s Jimenez, a dottari lieutenant you know to be a bit cruel.
At this precise moment, you feel a touch on your shoulder. That familiar woman is now behind you.
My chalkwork does not sell. It rarely sells and too frequently I am forced to find other ways to eat.
Tristain sits at the corner of the merchant's market in Westcrown and watches man and woman alike ignore the beauty of his chalk-artistry. 9 scraps of be-chalked parchment lie before him, each a work of art, each showing another scene of city life. They are pictures of Westcrown in its former glory...not the ruin that it has become.
A child comes nearby and Tristain watches her carefully, especially the cup of coin that receives the rare tips he gets. He moves some of his better parchment drawings closer to him and away from her.
I've learned to sense those who would appreciate my art and those who come to pass the time. That one there cares little for my work.
Tristain keeps his eyes on the child, Jeanine, out of the corner of his eyes. Tristain, as a rule, does not hate many people...but that child...that child is a special kind of evil. The little sprite seemed to live to destroy his work. It seemed to be her entire existence in this world. With narrowed eyes, Tristain keeps his eyes on the blonde curly hair of the girl and her mother. Tristain suspected they were nobility or worse...either way, his lawful complaints to the dottari will ignored completely.
Tristain does not relax while the child is within his view. When she finally leaves, Tristain pulls his cup closer to him and closes his eyes, listening to the sounds of the marketplace.
So many voices, so many songs of sale. This city sings with a life of its own.
As poor as Tristain is, he likes the marketplace...he feels connected and safe here. People...people make Westcrown seem safe again. Tristain has been here most of his life, making his way in the city, practicing his chalkwork. He remembers a bit of when Westcrown was not as bad as it was. He's heard the stories of glory...that Westcrown was the jewel of the kingdom.
Tristain grates his teeth at what Westcrown has become. He turns to his artwork, reflections of what he hopes Westcrown would be. They bring him peace...and maybe they will inspire a few to hope for a better future.
Perhaps today I will try to earn some scraps sketching the rich as they walk to their parties. They sometimes offer good coin if the likeness is good enough, but even more coin if the likeness is further off, more grandiose as they wish to see themselves.
Tristain snarls at the idea of having to pervert his art in this way, but sometimes he must if he wishes to eat.
Though his life is hard, Tristain has not decided to leave Westcrown yet. He's waiting for something. A cauldron of trouble brews and people live in fear...at some point it will get out of balance. Eventually, a balance of merchant and servant, noble and knave, servant and scion, will force something to change this City and restore it to greatness.
But a few coins more and I shall have enough money to purchase the deluxe chalks. Mayhaps I will paint that grand mural...it will reflect the greatness of Westcrown for all to see. Maybe it will inspire...
Tristain smiles as he sits, dreaming,...maybe his next customer will be a wealthy patron of the arts...
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The year is 4709AR and a Tuesday morning that is cooler than normal, and the clouds are moving in rapidly. It’s going to be a cloudy day today in Westcrown.
The grocery store opens for business after receiving a new shipment of produce. They usually ship on Tuesday, and the smart ones come shopping now rather than waiting for the weekend. Your shop keeper Bart says ”Get to chalkin Tristain, customers will be here soon.” You do as your told, and begin to sketch .
The same grey haired man is walking around. ”That’s no way to make a living lad. Yous gots to knows whats they wants. Whats der weakness and beg.” His speech is a bit slurry, indicating he’s been drinking at night from whatever coppers he earned begging yesterday. You watch him this morning as you sketch, and you notice him getting bolder and bolder, as he’s terrible at begging.
And sure enough, before you know it, here come Jeannine, a young girl of probably eight years old and for some reason immune to dottari justice. Although she’s actually laughing at the man begging rather than trying to mess up your chalk. The old man moves over to Jeannine. ”Oh my dear, you look just like my sick daughter, although she’s not as pretty as you. Could you spare some gold?”
Jeannine replies, ”Gold for you old man? Are you f!!%ing kidding me?”
The man presses ”Please, she’s very sick. She, uh, has, some kind of disease, or something. The doctors say I need ten gold to treat her for her cough, uh, I mean, disease.” God this is pathetic; he can’t even remember his lines.
Suddenly, Jeannine gets a glimmer in her eye. She looks at you, and winks. ”Oh, my, that sounds terrible. Here’s your ten gold mister, I hope your daughter is all better.” You see Jeannine hand the man money and walk off, giggling like she does when she messes up your chalk sketch.
”See that boy? I made morz dan youz makes in a weeks of scratchin s!@! on da ground. Yous stupid.” He spits at the chalk sketch.
You suspect Jeannine is going to talk to the guards and pretend she was robbed.
Sense Motive
Tristain keeps his head down, continuing to work as so not to arouse too much attention. He sneaks a quick peek at the Old Man before returning to work.
"I have no cause to like you, Old Man, but I detest that little wretch more than anything in Westcrown. Trust me, she's bad business. However, if you look in your cup, you'll not see gold within, but evidence that you just robbed her." Tristain pauses, examining his sketch for what is needed.
"She's like to be back with guards in short order. My word won't help you against hers. Nor will your protestation. You have two options as I see it: run or hide the money quickly. You'll be in for a beating if you're caught with that pouch when the guards come."
Tristain slowly begins to pack up his chalks in case he needs to make a run for it as well.
"Give me the pouch, quick. They'll not find it on you."
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”Heh, yous stupids. Ima gonna make more dan yous today. Go back to drawin, Ima gonna go back to makin real money.” The man moves on, looking for more people to scam, but seems to wander off a bit.
About ten minutes later, a human cleric of Abadar (as his silver holy symbol around his neck makes it rather obvious) comes in your direction, shopping for different groceries. He’s grumbling about prices being a bit higher over here. You haven’t seen this fellah before, but he’s decked out in some nice armor and weapons, which is a tad unusual. He’s also got a big Morningstar strapped to his belt. ”Potatoes, celery. They charge more for the artwork on the ground I guess.”
About that time, here comes the old man running at full speed. He sees this priest and goes straight for the cleric of Abadar. The man says, “You! You who have wealth. I know who you are! I need your help, I’m desperate!” He reaches out for the man’s Morningstar.
Now, 95% of the time, this would result in a Morningstar to the head. However, the cleric steps back and puts his hand on his Morningstar and says, ”Good morning sir, I will show you my weapon if you ask nicely. Please step back and calm down. Now what is your problem?” Undeterred, the older man pushes the cleric’s hand away from the Morningstar and yells, ”Give it to me now! I need it now!” The cleric, for some strange reason, only pushes him away about five feet and says, "I said ask nicely!! That is not nice. Do that again and I will have to hurt you." He points his finger at the older man.
The older man goes into his routine you’ve seen before. ”Damn you, give it to me! Please, I beg you.” The man begins to sob, the tears mixing with his sweat and making a small puddle on the cold cobblestone street. ”I just…I just want my daughter to live…please she’s so sick.” The crowd begins to part, as you hear some armored men coming.
”Step aside, step aside. Where is he?” You recognize the voice, it’s Jimenez, a dottari lieutenant you know to be a bit cruel.
There's a woman trying to grab the shoulder of the cleric of Abadar at this point. She's the first NPC shown in the NPC file listed as Janiven. You've seen her before and she seems rather nice, but you don't know her name (yet).
Perception
Tristain grinds his teeth.
People like him are those who make this City weak...and give the underclass a bad name.
Trusting in the non-beggar, he turns to the Abadaran.
"Do not trust this one. Guards come for him...and they are not much better. Stand back, these dottari will get what they want. Avoid them...and *him*," Tristain says, standing and gathering his 'staff'.
Tristain moves to blend in with the crowd, slowly and unhurriedly getting out of the path of the dottari.
Turning to the Lieutenant Ezren's puts on his best smile. "Good morning , Lieutenant." ...I can not seem to get away from the Dottari...
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The woman puts her hand on Ezren’s shoulder from behind him pulls you back to her and quietly says, ”Be still!”
Leuitenant Jimenez looks at Ezren and scoffs. Right behind Jimenez is Tristian’s favorite critic, Jeannine. ”That’s him, that’s the one lieutenant! He stole the money. My daddy asked me to take the money to the church, and he took it from me.”
”But I, please stop them!” says the man begging for Ezren's help on his hands and knees at Ezren’s feet. He looks at you, and you see the clarity in his eyes, that comes when a man knows he’s about to die.
Jimenez sends his mace right into the side of the man’s ribs. The crack is awfully loud, like stepping on pistachios, the crunching noise makes you cringe and the crowd jumps. Blood pours out of the man’s mouth as if a cork had been removed from a champagne bottle, all over your shoes, mixing with the sweat and tears from earlier. ”Good day to you Ezren. Got all dressed up did you? Maybe you should apply again.” The man’s body at your feet begins convulsing, but not making any sounds. ”Oh look Jeannine, your father is coming as well.”
You see an Asmodean priest come walking up, and takes Jeannine in his arms. Behind him in chains is a small Halfling with a leash tied to his neck.
Tristain grinds his teeth as he tries to blend in with the crowd of onlookers, if any.
He doesn't want to be involved, much less get involved, with the dottari, but even less so with the Hellknights. That Jeanine is who she is makes sense...and there is nothing Tristain can do about it.
He'll keep quiet and out of sight, watching and waiting until he can return to work.
Stealth (+2 vs. Humans)
Ezren heals the man with a touch. Whispering to the man on he ground. "Stay down unless you want to die twice in one day."
Ezren stands and gives the Lieutenant a stern look his hand hanging near his morningstar.
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”He’s begging for death for stealing from this young lady. He got what he deserved. You do remember the penalties for stealing, do you not?”
You hear the sound of “oohs” and “ahhs” as the older man stops convulsing and begins to stand up after being healed by Ezren. ”Thank you. I, I can’t believe you did that for me.” He is truly grateful and begins trying to wipe the blood off your shoes.
The Asmodean priest looks at you with a sharp look, and puts Jeannine down. ”You’re Ezren, right? I’m so glad you healed him, because Jimenez did not follow proper protocol. Isn’t that right, Jimenez?”
”Huh? I mean, you are of course correct, sir.”
”Yes, well, thank you for stopping him and protecting my daughter, but there is a proper punishment for stealing funds from the church of Asmodeus. Those coins my daughter carried were to go to the church, not in your pocket, thief!” The crowd begins moving further back by instinct, leaving you in the center with Lieutenant Jimenez and the older man as actors on an improvised stage. ”If you wanted something, here, take this, I want you to have it.” The priest pulls from his robe a parchment. From the distance you’re at, it looks like a scroll of some sort with strange writing on it.
”No, I am sorry, it won’t happen again. I, I, I don’t want nothin from you. Let me go.” He stops cleaning Enzren’s shoes and starts to stand up.
The priest kicks the Halfling in chains. ”Do it! The Halfling begins casting a spell of some sort and suddenly the man looks calm. ”Now, friend, I want you to accept this gift from me.” The Asmodean priest once again offers out a parchment to the man, who begins walking towards the priest ready to accept the gift.
Tristain grimaces as the Abadaran interferes, some respect begrudged for bravery...but also for stupidity.
A man of cloth is he? And he knows the Father of the Beast. This cannot end well.
Tristain is not surprised when the halfling slave casts the spell, but is when the Old Man reaches for the scroll. An impulse thought hits him, an impulse that had come more and more unbidden over the last few months: to raise his voice against the injustice.
He tries to stifle his words, but they come out.
"Do not take that, Old Man! It will be the end of you!"
Tristain looks shocked that he spoke and tries to blend into the crowd and away from the guards.
Stealth
"I do remember the punishment for stealing but he was..." ...stupid old man should have played dead...
Ezren helps the old man to his feet and whispers in his ear. "I can not help you now." Ezren stands back shaking his head a little then just looks at the ground. ...I should have let him die that was a better fate...I was stupid...
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The priest and lieutenant Jemeniz looks around, but Jeannine recognizes the voice. ”That bad chalk man is trying to interfere daddy! He draws pictures of Iomede!”
”Jeannine, Jeannine” says her father as he pets her head with his empty hand. ”How many times have I told you? Only tell lies that people will believe.” Turning back to the old man, he continues ”Come friend, you wanted something from the church, here it is.”
The old man smiles. He hears Ezren’s warning clearly in his ear, but begins walking towards the priest. Ezren hears a woman’s voice from behind say, “Ezren, come with me.” Ezren turns to see the woman who had been following him motion him off the improvised stage in the street. Wisely, Ezren slowly walks back to the edge of the crowd in her direction. The older man happily accepts the parchment as if from a friend he had not seen in years.
The priest now points directly at the crowd. In a loud and surprisingly booming voice, the priest bellows, ”Now Ezren, and all citizens of Westcrown, you shall see the power of Hell and why the mighty rule the weak. If you take coins from Hell, then Hell will reclaim those coins!”
You begin to smell smoke. The smoke doesn’t choke you, but it’s got a sweet tangy scent, like garlic. The smoke comes from the ground, and the crowd at the edge backs up further, while others push forward to see. You hear chants of ”Power! Glory! Asmodeus!” being repeated, softly at first, then growing louder as more join in. The priest grabs Jeannine and pumps his fist as the crowd chants, and they grow louder as he pumps his fist like a performer on a stage full of fans, whipping them into a fury. He then kicks the Halfling from behind, shoving him right into the old man. ”Hahaha, I’ll get another.”
POOF. You see a THIS CREATURE appear and in one move, pierces both the chained Halfling and the older man in the gut, and they dangle in the air as the creature raises them on high in one hand. Neither made a sound. The blood begins to pour down the creature’s arm. Some gold coins drop out of the old man’s pockets as he is held upside down.
POWER! GLORY! ASMODEUS! POWER! GLORY! ASMODEUS! The chanting is even louder.
POOF.
The chanting stops. Jeannine jumps out of her father’s arms and grabs the coins, and returns them to her father. ”For the church!” The priest coldly responds, ”Not anymore, need another Halfling. Let’s go.” He begins to walk, and stops, and turns, looking for a second. ”Thanks again for allowing me to do it properly, cleric of Abadar. You served Asmodeus well.” They walk on.
Jemeniz walks over to Tristain. ”You’re lucky, fool. Next time.” He shakes his fist at Tristain and walks off after the priest. Behind Tristain that same woman who was behind Ezren says, ”You tried to warn the cleric of Abadar and the old man, that’s impressive. I didn’t see you chanting either. Why not?”
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Money’s been running a bit low for you in your past shows, with many complaints that you aren’t taking enough risk. While throwing eggs and tomatoes isn’t that uncommon for a crowd in any mainland performance, especially for shows performed in the Rego Cader (“Dead Sector”), the lack of income has started to get your attention.
You have heard that the famed director Robahl Nonon is preparing to begin casting of a very prestigious performance, but exactly what the performance is nobody knows. Hence, there are multiple local performers doing their best acts in one of the major intersections of Rego Scripa (“Scribes Sector”) in Westcrown to impress him in order to earn a slot at the casting call. You have decided to go meet Robahl Nonon and see what kind of performances happen in the more respectable parts of Westcrown.
The acts vary wildly, since nobody is sure what Robahl is going to direct. A pair of young men perform a spectacular sword fight. ”Terrible! What are you two pansies afraid of? A big scar would certainly improve both of your looks. No blood. Next!”
A trio of singers begin singing in harmony about the fall of Aroden. ”This isn’t a children’s theater. Wait, no, children shouldn’t even have to endure that crap. Next!”
A couple of acrobats begin tossing each other in the air using their own momentum. ”Hmm, trained monkeys I see. Ne..” Robahl stops before he finishes as one of the acrobats falls face first, breaking her neck. You hear the sudden crack, and the acrobat’s body goes limp. ”Hmm, get another partner, and come to my casting call at the Limehouse Theater in two weeks. Not sure you can do better than a trained monkey, but we’ll see. NEXT!”
The two of you enter the intersection.
”Hey, aren’t you the two whose parents used to own that dump, the Limehouse Theater? Well, get on with it, I’m already growing bored.”
”You tried to warn the cleric of Abadar and the old man, that’s impressive. I didn’t see you chanting either. Why not?”
Tristain fluster, both embarrassed and nervous. It's clear he doesn't fully trust the woman, knowing full well about the network of spies for the dottari.
"It was foolish to speak at all. I didn't mean to bring trouble to your Shoppe. My apologies," Tristain says honestly. "The Old Man was truly an ass. I would overlook the slight that he compares his lies and beggary with my art. That is easily done no matter how offensive, it is...I mean, *was* just his way of getting on the world. However, that he would not trust another when they sought to help him was his undoing."
Tristain nearly spits for the taste of bile so strong in his mouth.
"Undoing? It was a bit more than that, was it not? That mistake sent him directly to Hell." Tristain shakes his head, realizing he's said too much.
"Well, I'm sorry to cause problems. I hope that you'll call upon me again when you want to draw visitors to your Shoppe. I choose to believe that my art draws those who would seek something better for Westcrown. I hope that it serves as an inspiration...and I hope they come to buy."
Tristain ends with a small, sad smile as the weight of today's events hits him.
"Please excuse me...I need to find lodging tonight."
Standing with all his muscles flexed and a grim expression on his face throughout the entire gruesome scene Ezren relaxes only after the priest and his demon spawn child have walked away. ...that child is pure evil...
Whipping around to the women with irritation on his face."Who are you and why have you been following me?" Ezren growls through clenched teeth.
The Bodrick brothers will perform an act. Well more of an reenact.
First they reenact the pair of young men and their sword fight. poking and jabbing at one another, and at last a greatly exaggerated faint from Moshley.
Next they do some acrobatics to display what the acrobats did several minutes ago. stumbling on top and over each other in front of the director. Jimmy even grabbed some cobbles from the street and started juggling, which in the end finished by one of the stones hitting Moshley on the head.
And then they sang a song, one of the songs their parents have learned them. A happy and cheery song, made to drag in the public to join them in the singing.
Lastly they finish by imitating Robahl at refusing everyone. pointing at people and refusing them in whatever, with a very bored look. They finished this act with Robahl himself.
Thus they show not the greatest of skill, but mostly their adaptivity to every situation. Both the brothers ended up enjoying the different act, instead of the ones they practiced very often.
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Ezren goes to speak with the woman, and notices that she’s now speaking to another man. Ezren walks over to them and questions her.
”You both deserve great thanks for trying to save him. My name is Jeniven, and I’m, well, let’s say I think you guys are people who would like to make things like what we just saw, not happen as often, as would I. I’ve followed you, cleric, ever since you purchased those weapons. I wondered if you were just some hack who wanted to bash heads in for any slight against your church. I am happy I was wrong. You seem to actually want to help. I guess your name is Ezren. What’s your name, chalk man? I must admit, you’re a bit smarter, keeping your head down while trying to help.” She gives a stern look to Ezren, clearly implying he acted a bit brash and foolishly (in her mind, anyway).
While some folks have different agendas, I think we all agree that the nightly terrors are a plague. If you’d like to learn more, please, come see me at Vizio’s tavern on Thursday. Although it will be closed, knock three times and say my name. Can you come early, chalk man? We’ll need a distraction and I’d like for you to draw a sketch at the tavern across the street.”
The shop owner, Bart, comes outside after things have settled down. ”Aw man, look at all these people. What did you draw this time?” With that, Jeniven leaves.
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There is a sizeable crowd gathered to watch these tryouts, but mostly are other actors and stagehands trying their best to impress Robahl. Needless to say, most of them are doused with insults.
During your swordfight, Robahl Nonon says, ”This is terrible! You are you guys scared of using swords? What else do you have?” However, one woman in the crowd actually applauds your swordplay performance.
During your acrobatics, he interrupts you and says, ”I’m not casting for a circus act! Please, this is a serious performance.”
”Songs bore my audience. Seriously, are you guys performing for the citizens of Rego Cader? Do they even put up with this stuff? No wonder they are so uncivilized. This is going to be an exciting production, and you’re singing?”
When you begin to imitate Robahl, the director becomes furious, although you can hear some laughing by many of the actors who are there for the tryouts. ”I can’t believe I’ve watched this. My eyes hurt. Probably the best thing was your parent’s theater burning down, to save the citizens from watching these terrible performances. NEXT!”
As you exit the intersection, you are greeted by the renowned opera star Thesing Umbero Ulvaud. ”Heh, I guess I don’t have to worry about working with you two. I’m clearly going to get the lead part in Robahl’s production, whatever it is. I’m the best, after all. You two better stick to the crowds up in Rego Cader. Are the tomatoes fresh when they throw them?”
At this point, you see a woman motioning for you to come over to see her. She says, ”Don’t listen to him or the director. I thought your performances were well done, especially how you were able to copy some of the earlier performances. It’s amazing you did that on such short notice! And, did I hear the director say that your parents owned the Limehouse Theater? Oh, if that’s true, I must tell you, I always went to that theater as a child, hoping beyond hope to be in a production. Oh, sorry, I’m just flustered. My name is Calseinica Nymmis, maybe you’ve heard of me?” She bats an eye at the two of you, hoping you have heard of her.
The one person who did applaud your swordplay performance is trying to make her way through the crowd of actors, coming in your direction.
Jimmy thrusts out a hand toward Calseinica. "Miss Nymmis, you are a gooood actress!"
"My name is Tristain. Tristain Stone," Tristain says, walking over to his art.
Tristain looks down at what he drew: a glorious rendition of Westcrown, shining bright. Pennants fly and happy wagon trains of visitors and trade enter and leave the gate.
Tristain frowns deeply...as the Old Man and Jemeniz had left their own mark on his art...long rivulets of blood flow from the City now, blood splattered all over the people within the drawing.
"I think I'm done drawing for the day," Tristain says, his inspiration gone. Almost as an afterthought, Tristain whispers to Janiven.
"I will be there on Thursday."
Tristain gathers his stuff and leaves, making plans for Thursday.
* * *
On Thursday, Tristain will arrive early, do the secret knock and see what artwork they need on the tavern across the way.
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”Oh, you have heard of me? I’m thrilled. I have just been trying my best. ‘Break a leg’ they say! I’ve only broken mine a few times, but I’m told the sacrifice is worth it.” Calseinica Nymmis is clearly more enthralled with herself now that you have said you have heard of her. ”Both of you are so nice. Hey, it looks like you have a fan coming.”
The woman who applauded your performance finally makes her way through the crowd of actors. ”Hello to both of you. Would you excuse us Miss Nymmis?”
”Hmmpf, not a fan? I hope to see you two again.” Calseinica wanders off and talks with Thesing Umbero Ulvauld.
”Allow myself, to, uh, introduce myself. My name is Janiven, and I’ve seen you perform up in Rego Cader. I have to say, you are one of the few performers who actually tries to perform with skill rather than simply entertaining folks with mundane violence. It clearly has given you superior skills to the others, and keeps you in fine health. What motivates you to perform so distinctly?”
"Pleased to meet you and goodbye!" Moshley makes a tiny theatrical bow towards Calseinica.
He turns to Janiven.
"Pleased to meet you Janiven, My name is Moshley Bodrick and this is Jimmy Bodrick. And thank you for the compliment. As for what motivates me, our parents owned the Limehouse theater and were well known actors. I don't want to do bad by their name."
He smiles at that.
"So what drew you to the performances here?"
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”Frankly, I wanted to see if you would succumb to the pressure of performing for Robahl. You know, I’ve heard of your act, since people were complaining about how bad it was for lack of excitement. I made my way up there and saw a good performance, like my grandmother used to tell me how they did it back in the days before…well, you know. Anyway, I thought you would change your performance and try the same old tired stuff like that acrobat, who tossed this partner in a way so she’d break her neck. Your performances inspire us to be better. That’s what I see, anyway.”
Janiven looks around for a second, nervously. She lowers her voice for a second and says, ”There are some other like minded individuals who want to inspire, make it back the way it was, like it was when your parents owned the Limehouse Theater and put on respectable shows. Did you know they’ve almost finished rebuilding the Limehouse? They show the most awful things now. Your parents would be ashamed.” Janiven pauses, obviously considering something in her mind.
”If you want to meet people like yourself, who respect the older ways, come to Vizio’s Tavern on Thursday. It’s closed on Thursday, but knock three times and mention my name to get inside. We’ll also have free drinks and you can show people a performance that will be appreciated, I assure you. Both of you are so talented.”
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It is well known to the locals that Vizio’s Tavern was named for the family that once ran the establishment. It’s a place where merchant guards went to relax, gripe about their employers, and look for more work. Several months ago, however, the Vizio patriarch passed away, and the surviving family moved out of Westcrown to go live with kin in the distant Corentyn. There are some new owners, but the tavern is usually closed, presumably to make renovations. The new owners of the tavern are a woman and a half-elf male, which seems a bit scandalous to some.
When you enter the tavern by activating the secret code, Janiven will open the door, look around nervously, and let you in. ”Hello, thanks for coming. Grab a drink and feel free to meet the others who feel the same way.”
Behind the counter is a large man, who gives you a nod. You notice a loaded heavy crossbow on the counter. ”What you drinking? Never mind, all we have is ale. Here you go, on the house. My name is Jeremiah, but everyone calls me Jerry.”
Seated at a few tables are 2 young men, 1 male dwarf and 2 young women. All of them seem to have just entered adulthood and are drinking and talking. They motion you over to sit with them. The two male humans are called William and Macu. The dwarf’s name is Ruadhagan Hardboron. The women’s names are Velma and Sasha. They are talking about how much they think the slave trade is against the best interest of society and that they should confiscate the wealth of slavers and transfer it to the education of teifling self-improvement.
It is very clear that Janiven is nervous about something as she keeps glancing through the curtains at the front window of the tavern.
Tristain tips a smile to Jeremiah, in thanks for the brew. In taking a sip, he realizes that, in Westcrown, nothing is ever freely given...and that there are usually strings attached. He briefly worries, but then drinks more as he rarely has the chance to sip ale or acquire free goods.
"Thanks Jerry, nice to meet you. Name's Tristain."
Tristain takes his drink over to the other table, looking over William & Macu, the dwarf, and Velma & Sasha.
"My name is Tristain, nice to meet you all," Tristain grabs a chair and leans his 'staff' against it. He unlimbers his backpack and sets that against his chair. He doesn't say much, just sipping his ale and watching others.
Sense Motive (Janiven)
"Do you guys know why we're here? What's going on?" Tristain's eyes flicker to Janiven. "Are we expecting guests?"
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Janiven is clearly agitated by your question. "Yes, I am. I just always like to keep a lookout. I want to make sure, you know, that everyone gets here in time before dark. By the way, I thought you might make a sketch across the street to attract attention to the tavern over there than have attention over here. Did you change your mind?"
Ruadhagan asks Tristain, "Tristain, how do you feel about the shadow creatures, and the mistreatment of the Halflings? Surely you would support taxes on the wealthy to implement a doctrine of humanity to be inserted into the Chelixan government documents for Halflings. Wouldn't it be great to do a sit-in or something to demonstrate our resolve?"
The others chime in "Yeah, a sit-in. That's a great idea."
A rather muscled human man walks into the tavern, together with a gnome. The human waves at everyone he's introduced to, and sits himself down at their table.
"Janiven, Jimmy thinks you look nervous. Who are you expecting, is it someone that's not nice?" Jimmy asks when notices Janiven glance through the curtains.
When offered ale, Jimmy turns to the gnome that entered the tavern with him. "Mushi, Jimmy doesn't like ale. Is there no orange juice?"
"Let's all sit and be nice to each other," Jimmy says when Ruadhagan asks Tristain a question, and proposes a sit-in.
A normal sized gnome, wearing armor and a couple of small weapons, enters with the muscled human.
"Greetings everyone, we are the Bodrick brothers. My name is Moshley and this is Jimmy, as you might have noticed."
He nods to Janiven and turns to Jimmy.
"Sorry Jim I don't think they have orange juice. Barkeep do you perhaps have some water for my brother instead of beer?"
He looks at Javine again whilst taking a seat next to his brother.
"Are there any other actors here today?"
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"Well Jimmy, tell Jimmy I'm not worried, I just, well, want to be sure the cleric get's here in time. You know, it will be dark soon. People might be looking at people coming in the closed tavern."
Jerry laughs heartily at the suggestion for orange juice, then realizes you're serious. "I have some oranges, let me squeeze them for ya." In a rather impressive manner, he manages to squeeze the bejesus out of the oranges and gets a lot of juice out of just a few rather quickly. "There you go. I call it smart sauce. Drink enough of it, makes you smart."
Velma and Sasha excuse themselves, as they both go to the restroom together to gossip. William and Macu discuss the proper location for a sit-in demonstration. "We could do a sit in at the Qatada Nessudidia!" says William. "Oh wow, that's so awesome dude! Those priests would have to recognize the relationship between Halflings and the unalienable rights of non-humans." replies Macu. The dwarf asks, "Would the sit in last through the day, or through the night?" "Don't be a dwarven downer, man!" says William.
Velma and Sasha return to their seats, looking at the newcomers.
Janiven makes a short announcement. "While, we, uh, wait for everyone. Yes, everyone, we will, uh, see a performance by the esteemed Jimmy and Moshley performers. Please direct your attention to them, while, uh, we wait for everyone to show up." Janiven returns to the window and looks out at the street.
Tristain does, as earlier indicated, happily apply his art to the tavern across the way. His work is a quick sketch, espousing the virtues of the tavern as well as offering free drinks to female halflings in the company of elves. It will be a goofy affair that distracts and highlights rather than proclaim any sort of deeper artistic truth.
This gives him time to think about whether sit-ins are a asinine idea...or an incredibly stupid *and* bad idea. He decides it is both simultaneously.
He returns to the bar and the conversation at hand.
"Me? I hate the shadow creatures. I can't believe they still plague the city...I figure the Mayor and all of them are in on it. Listen to this and it's true story. That one over there," Tristain nods to Ezren, "...he saw it to. This Paralictor conjured an ugly bony devil to drag an Old Man to hell...like it was nothing. They have devils at their bidding and they can't handle whatever is causing the night terrors? C'mon...they are either incompetent or behind them. Not that I can do anything about it...nor will a sit-in help with them. We're going to need something more than a sit-in."
Jimmy does as Janiven says, and tells himself that Janiven isn't worried. "No Jimmy, Janiven isn't worried. Janiven just wants to be sure the cleric gets here in time!"
"Mushy, Jimmy will become smart like you!" Jimmy says as he takes the special orange juice from Jerry, and starts drinking it.
When Janiven announces the performance, Jimmy quickly gulps down the smart juice and stands up. He moves to the middle of the room, and waits for Moshley to join him. "Jimmy thinks hurting each other is bad when acting. Mushy also thinks so. We don't like dangerous acting like in Westcrown, we want acting to be nice."
Indeed we don't, Jimmy. There's no reason for anyone to get hurt.
"Jimmy think so too," Jimmy replies to something the others can't hear.
...Janiven ... can I trust her? ... should I even go to his tavern? ... Ezren thinks to himself as he paces back an forth in this small room.
... I am tired of it ... tired of being afraid ... of the dark ... of the church ... of everything ... It must change ... the scales of justice have come unbalanced ... it will change ... and if it will not I will force it too!... Ezren quickly grabs his gear and storms out of the house, his mother asking after him. "Ezren where are you going?!
Ignoring her he marches down the street whispering to himself. "I must go mother. I must. I love you."
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Just before sunset Ezren comes to the tavern door and knocks three times. ...if this is a trap I will not be taken alive...
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After you knock 3 times, they ask for the password.
The door opens and Janiven greets you warmly, then looks left and right outside your door. She sees a bit of commotion going on across the street, which makes her smile. "Come on in Ezren, I'm glad you came."
She closes the door, goes to the window, looking again up and down the street through the closed curtain, and returns to the group.
"Yes, well, everyone, this is Ezren. Ezren, this is Tristain, Jimmy, Moshey, Velma, Sasha, William, Macu, and of course, Ruadhagan." She points at each person as she says their name. Sasha waves to you when her name is called.
"Just cause I'm short don't mean I have to be introduced last!"
"Silence you, she didn't even mention me," says a big man behind the bar.
"Oh yes, and Jeremiah, the barkeep. Excuse me for a second." Janiven goes to the window and looks outside yet again, then comes back. "So, where were we? Oh yes, Jimmy and Moshley were going to do a quick performance for us, right? And Jeremiah, can you serve everyone some food while we wait?"
"Alright, got some chops I can make for everyone. I'll be sure to make some more smart juice for the lad."
Jeniven looks at Jimmy and Moshley. "Okay fine gentleman, please begin. I can't wait to see a real performance."
The discussion about the sit-in demonstration stops, as everyone turns to watch the performance. Sasha pulls an empty chair next to her for Ezren to sit in.
Glad that the talk of sit-ins is over, Tristain looks forward to the performance while sipping his ale.
Not a bad crew...not sure what we are doing yet. But nice people.
Ezren nods at each of the people in turn but not talking or shaking hands. ... what a strange group of people ...
... what have I come here for? ... a play? I do not understand ... Confused and frustrated, Ezren sits in the chair next to Sasha with his arms crossed, a straight back and throwing Janiven stern looks.
Tristain turns and silent head nods at Ezren, the one person he recognizes, but does not speak during the performance.
Well, there is one guy I recognize...and a man of the cloth coin. I could be in worse company. At least there are no half-orcs.
Moshley walks up to Jimmy and very softly discussed something with him.
"Okay we are ready, we will perform the last play our parents did in the Limehouse theater before it burned down. It is called: The druid of Verduran Forest."
They take their places and go through the whole performance. Once they stopped for a small break, Moshley emptied his beer and made some small talk with the people. After that they continued.
It's Moshley who plays the druid of Verduran Forest, the person the play's named after. It's a story about a druid who'd lost his best friend and animal companion. The druid is now lonely and in pain, and Moshley's acting conveys these emotions to those who watch the performance.
After the druid, named Obran, has hit rock bottom he meets another man. To other man is a wizard named Aldaron, and played by Jimmy. The not too bright Jimmy completely tranforms during the play, acting like an actually intelligent person. One may wonder if the smart juice took effect, or if it was a natural talent for acting.
Aldaron, like Obran, was lonely. And like the druid, the wizard lived in the Venduran Forest. The two discover the reason Obran's animal companion died: malicious spirits are slowly taking over the forest, and draining the life force of the animals at night. The druid and wizard team up to defeat these spirits, before the forest is completely taken over by the evil.
Despite several hardships during their quest, Obran and Aldaron eventually manage to defeat the last spirit. Peace finally returns to the Venduran Forest. The two men, who were once both lonely, were now friends. At the end of the play Jimmy and Moshley stand next to each other while facing those who've been watching the performance, and bow.
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The people at the tables look confused, unsure of what they just saw. Ruadhagan speaks up first, ”Is it over? But, nobody was hurt. Is there another act?”
Sasha, with her arm casually around the back of Ezren’s chair, says ”Is that, like, uh, how they used to do it?”
Janiven, seeing the confusion, immediately begins applauding. ”Wonderful! Simply wonderful!” Once everyone realizes that indeed your performance is over, begins to applaud.
Jeremiah is sniffling behind the bar, clearly emotionally affected by your performance. ”I’d heard stories like that when I was just a lad, before the civil war. My mum told me a story just like that, I think she had seen it at the Limehouse Theater.”
William and Macu, after applauding, go back to discussing their sit-in strategy. “Do you think we should bring drums with us?” “No man, we should invite performers like those two, peace and everything is way cooler than drums.”
It’s about only an hour before sunset. Janiven returns to the window, looking out. ”Isn’t that the same little girl? Out late for a young girl like her.”
Janiven comes back and says, “Again, thank you for agreeing to meet with me here. I have chosen each of you for a singular reason—everyone here, myself included, has suffered, whether we realize it or not. I have lived in Westcrown my whole life, and although I love this city, I must admit, as must you, that despite our peace and prosperity, we continue to suffer. Fear should not be an expected part of life, and yet each night brings fear to our doorsteps. Yes, Westcrown has been safe from war and famine for nearly seventy years, and yes, our businesses has prospered—but this safety and prosperity has been bought in the coinage of fear and prayers to Hell. Other lands live free from tyranny. Other cities do not fear the night. Other governments do not cede the streets to monsters of the infernal shadows. Westcrown was once such a place, and she wants to be such a place again. Westcrown is not only her buildings and canals and docks and history—she is also her people. Westcrown is our friends and neighbors, our mothers and fathers, our siblings and cousins, our sons and daughters! With but a small group of supporters and dedicated brothers and sisters, we can earn the trust and admiration of those people. A Westcrown free of these shadowy beasts that stalk our streets is one step closer to a Westcrown free of the devil that is the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune!”
Sasha’s arm drops from Ezren’s chair. Stunned silence fills the tavern. Velma begins to fidget in her chair, as if suddenly sitting on a tack. Finally, the dwarf (again) speaks up in a quiet voice, looking over at William and Macu. ”Lads, I don’t think she’s talking about a sit-in.”
At the mention of 'same, little girl', Tristain freezes momentarily...if it is, that is a bad omen for this meeting...and sneaks to the window to take a look for himself.
Stealth