In the Lion's Shadow- A Criminal Solo Game (Inactive)

Game Master Mowque

Cassomir, second city of the once-mighty Taldane empire. The naval center for the empire, it's drydocks and workshops furnish Taldor with one of the finest navies in the Inner Sea. For centuries they city has provided the massive and graceful ships that patrol the guarded coasts. Cassomir is also a city of trade, handling goods of all sorts floating down the Sellen River, all carefully weighed, taxed and inspected. Busy, hard-working and blunt, the Cassomir population has a reputation for getting things done. Proud and old (and decrepit) Cassomir sums up the Taldane empire better then any historian or politician ever could.
Despite (or because of) the wealth of trade, Cassomir has also long been a den of crime and vice. Everything from smuggling to brothels to burglary teem inside the city. Still sinking into the ancient mud, the city is home to crime-lords of all stripes from hard-bitten muggers in ramshackle huts to elegant art forgers in fashionable mansions. The market of crime is immense, deep and old, with many traditions of it's own, quite separate from the Governors, Generals and Admirals who think they run the city. But even this strict hierarchy is always changing, always adapting to new rules, new situations and new people hungry for power.
Rising to the top isn't easy but the rewards are great. Wealth for you and punishment for your enemies and power to do what else you wish, in the city. Cassomir is a plum for the picking, for those with the wit, skill and boldness to seize it.

Do you?

Levels: Starting level is 3, and you will level fairly regularly
Stats: 20 point buy, no stat can be lower than 8 before racial modifications.
Classes: The first note is remember, you will be on your own in a urban, social environment required to do social stuff now and then...Core, Base and Hybrid classes are all allowed.

Races: All Core races are allowed without restriction, along with tiefling and asaimars. If you try and do another race, you better have a very good concept.

Alignment: You playing a criminal so any alignment is allowed.

Traits: Two traits of your choice, which must come from sources other than Adventure Paths.

Hit Points: Hit points will be gained at each level equal to ½ class HD +1. You will receive maximum HP for first level.

Starting Gold: 1,000 with plenty of ways to earn money in the city. It is a small start but the entire criminal world is open to you. I would advise leaving some liquid capital in your purse. Takes money to make money!

Skills: We will be using the Background skills system. You will be on your own so use these extra skills wisely (and illegally)!

Character Background:  Due to the nature of this game (Solo and Criminal), I have a few 'required' background features.

1. You be an (aspiring) criminal at some low level. Obviously you haven’t made your big break yet, but feel free to add a few small events in your past.

2. You don’t have to be from Cassomir, but you should have a few connections. Please create at least one friend and one foe in the criminal underworld you are about to dive into! If you aren't from Cassomir, create some for places you have been. Here is a chance to show off your character’s agenda and personal likes/dislikes.

3. What is your initial criminal scheme? What is your ‘bright’ idea to make money in this corrupt, crime-ridden city. How do you propose to make your big break? Be as specific as you want with you plans. Just remember, no plan survives contact with the enemy! This is the main category I am judging applicants on, their proposed crime start.

To be clear if you plan to start a blackmailing ring that doesn’t mean you can’t branch out to bank robbery and counterfeiting later. This first plan just gives me a feel for your character and how he intends to start out in the rough and tumble underworld of the city. Create a few (minor) NPCs if you want, to give your scheme a bit more solid reality. I'll be happy to work with you if you have questions!

Convince me of your criminal plans and you are well on your way to joining this game!

What I expect:

-A fully finished statblock (you can hold off on minor gear if you wish). An alias is not required but if you want to make one, it won't hurt your chances.

-Some backstory, with the caveats mentioned above. I look forward to hearing about some diverse, cool and shady characters.

-A sentence on your views (hopes, wishes, doubts) of a solo game would be very interesting.

These are some optional rules this campaign will be using!

Background Skills

Automatic Bonus Progression

This is a solo game, so just you and me. That means the pace should be easy to maintain, and avoid the major pitfall of PBPs. I plan on posting at least once a day, probably more, so I hope you are too!

I am a librarian from PA (which is EST timezone). I have GM'd a few PBP games and a few live games. I’ve had a great experience with Solo games on this site (two so far, Soaring Ambition and Among the Remains), so I hope to add another to the pile! Both of my other players say they greatly enjoy the Solo games and my GM style.

I am big on communication both IC and OOC so expect lots of posts in both Discussion and Gameplay!

He wasn't always the Prince of Thieves, He used to be just a nobleman's child. Scipio Le Valiere, the son of Catarina and Massimo Valiere. The child was made to study his entire life in order to inherit the family business of trade, one must have knowledge of all things to be a great business man after all. Engineering and Mechanics were among his favorite things to study .

Young Scipio grew bored of his responsibilities and lost childhood, and when he came of age he sneak out at night and take on his other persona The Prince of Thieves. The Prince would steal from the rich, being involved in his father trade business he often knew who was in town. The money, he would give to orphans and poor children; whether purposeful or not he despised adults. Eventually he became rather well known among the people as the uncatchable thief, who lead a group of child thieves. Although truth be told he never lead anyone, there was no group just him.

This act of rebellion did not come out of no where, the young Scipio had the spirit of a legendary thief attached to his own. Unbeknownst to him that is were his Talents came from, with those talents came other thing. As the Prince, young Scipio became brash, constantly looking for a challenge. As different as the two soul were, they shared a similar love for the sky and for freedom.

The point came when Scipio eventually spent more time among the outcasts and street urchins as the Prince, than he did studying. His parents became more and more suspicious as to the where abouts of their son until eventually they had him followed. That night when he came home, his parent confronted him. Scipio having been found out ran away, worried that his new found freedom would be taken away.

As he ran out of the city, He collapsed his eyes racked with pain. He woke up, his vision clouded. he could no longer see the sky he loved, but he felt as if the connection was stronger than ever. The young Scipio began embraced the his Prince Persona, slowly becoming the legendary thief that was housed in his soul.

Scipio is a young man with Grey eyes and blonde hair tied back, light stubble he keeps shaven and clean. his normal attire consists of a quilted white shirt which doubles as his armor and a fitted leather vest and leather boots.

As the Prince his attire is similar except he bears a storm grey cloak and wears a mask. like this one click here

Scipio himself is a kind, intelligent, young man. Free Spirited, he he has no permanent home And is often traveling, staying in town only as long as wants. His kind heart leads him to helping people who he thinks deserves help, although he is harsher with the judgement of adults than children due to his bad relationship with his parents.

As the Prince he becomes confident and mysterious, this is both accidental and purposeful. As part of this personality is the spirit of the legendary thief that is housed in his soul. He becomes far more focused as the Prince and will do anything to accomplish his mission whatever it be.

Improved Tracking: At 1st level, a trophy hunter gains a +2 bonus on Survival skill checks when following or identifying tracks. When he tracks, he can also attempt a Knowledge (nature) check at DC 15. On a success, the trophy hunter can discern the type and condition of any animals or magical beasts he tracks. By studying their tracks, the trophy hunter is able to identify a rough approximation of their health, maneuverability, and their general behavior as compared to the norm.

This ability replaces wild empathy.

Houserules - change Knowledge (nature) to Knowledge (local); Changing animals and magical beasts to just humanoids (or just his fav enemies, to narrow it).

Quarick Frezhal
Male gnome swashbuckler (mouser) 1
CG Small humanoid (gnome)
Init +5; Senses Low-Light Vision 60 ft.; Perception +7
--------------------
Defense
--------------------
AC 17, touch 15, flat-footed 14 (+2 armor, +3 Dex, +1 Size, +1 Dodge)
hp 13 (1d10+2)
Fort +1, Ref +6, Will +0; +2 racial saving throw bonus against illusion spells and effects.+3 against charm and compulsion effects.
--------------------
Offense
--------------------
Speed 20 ft.
Melee mwk rapier +8 (1d4/18-20 x2)
Spell-Like Abilities-Gnomes add +1 to the DC of any saving throws against illusion spells that they cast. Gnomes with Charisma scores of 11 or higher also gain the following spell-like abilities: 1/day—dancing lights, ghost sound, prestidigitation, and speak with animals. The caster level for these effects is equal to the gnome's level. The DC for these spells is equal to 10 + the spell's level + the gnome's Charisma modifier
--------------------
Statistics
--------------------
Str 8, Dex 16, Con 12, Int 13, Wis 10, Cha 17
Base Atk +1; CMB +0; CMD 13
Feats Weapon Finesse, Weapon Focus (rapier)
Traits Excitable, Irrepressible
Skills Acrobatics -+7,Bluff +9, Climb -1, Diplomacy +9, Escape Artist +7, Knowledge (local) +5, Perception +2, Sleight of Hand +10, Stealth +11
Languages Common, Gnomish, Sylvan, Varisian
Combat Gear mwk rapier, leather armor
Other Gear Entertainer’s outfit, other mundane gear to be filled in, 140 gold left
--------------------
Special Abilities
--------------------
Racial traits (already worked into Skills and stats above!)
Racial traits:
Gift of Tongues Gnomes love languages and learning about those they meet. Gnomes with this racial trait gain a +1 bonus on Bluff and Diplomacy checks, and they learn one additional language every time they put a rank in the Linguistics skill. This racial trait replaces defensive training and hatred.

Fey Thoughts (1 RP): Select two of the following skills: Acrobatics, Bluff, Climb, Diplomacy, Disguise, Escape Artist, Fly, Knowledge (nature), Perception, Perform, Sense Motive, Sleight of Hand, Stealth, Swim, or Use Magic Device. The selected skills are always class skills for the character. This trait replaces racial weapon familiarity. (Stealth!)

Low-Light Vision: Gnomes can see twice as far as humans in conditions of dim light.

Illusion Resistance: Gnomes gain a +2 racial saving throw bonus against illusion spells and effects.

Keen Senses: Gnomes receive a +2 racial bonus on Perception checks.

Obsessive: Gnomes receive a +2 racial bonus on a Craft or Profession skill of their choice. (Profession Acrobat)

Gnome Magic: Gnomes add +1 to the DC of any saving throws against illusion spells that they cast. Gnomes with Charisma scores of 11 or higher also gain the following spell-like abilities: 1/day—dancing lights, ghost sound, prestidigitation, and speak with animals. The caster level for these effects is equal to the gnome's level. The DC for these spells is equal to 10 + the spell's level + the gnome's Charisma modifier.

Swashbuckler and Mouser (Archetype) stuff-

Panache: More than just a lightly armored warrior, a swashbuckler is a daring combatant. She fights with panache: a fluctuating measure of a swashbuckler's ability to perform amazing actions in combat. At the start of each day, a swashbuckler gains a number of panache points equal to her Charisma modifier (minimum 1). Her panache goes up or down throughout the day, but usually cannot go higher than her Charisma modifier (minimum 1), though feats and magic items can affect this maximum. A swashbuckler spends panache to accomplish deeds (see below), and regains panache in the following ways.

Critical Hit with a Light or One-Handed Piercing Melee Weapon: Each time the swashbuckler confirms a critical hit with a light or one-handed piercing melee weapon, she regains 1 panache point. Confirming a critical hit on a helpless or unaware creature or a creature that has fewer Hit Dice than half the swashbuckler's character level doesn't restore panache.

Killing Blow with a Light or One-Handed Piercing Melee Weapon: When the swashbuckler reduces a creature to 0 or fewer hit points with a light or one-handed piercing melee weapon attack while in combat, she regains 1 panache point. Destroying an unattended object, reducing a helpless or unaware creature to 0 or fewer hit points, or reducing a creature that has fewer Hit Dice than half the swashbuckler's character level to 0 or fewer hit points doesn't restore any panache.

Swashbucklers spend panache points to accomplish deeds. Most deeds grant the swashbuckler a momentary bonus or effect, but some provide longer-lasting effects. Some deeds remain in effect while the swashbuckler has at least 1 panache point, but do not require expending panache to be maintained. A swashbuckler can only perform deeds of her level or lower. Unless otherwise noted, a deed can be performed multiple successive times, as long as the swashbuckler has or spends the required number of panache points to perform the deed.

Derring-Do (Ex) : At 1st level, a swashbuckler can spend 1 panache point when she makes an Acrobatics, Climb, Escape Artist, Fly, Ride, or Swim check to roll 1d6 and add the result to the check. She can do this after she makes the check but before the result is revealed. If the result of the d6 roll is a natural 6, she rolls another 1d6 and adds it to the check. She can continue to do this as long as she rolls natural 6s, up to a number of times equal to her Dexterity modifier (minimum 1).

Dodging Panache (Ex) : At 1st level, when an opponent attempts a melee attack against the swashbuckler, the swashbuckler can as an immediate action spend 1 panache point to move 5 feet; doing so grants the swashbuckler a dodge bonus to AC equal to her Charisma modifier (minimum 0) against the triggering attack. This movement doesn't negate the attack, which is still resolved as if the swashbuckler had not moved from the original square. This movement is not a 5-foot step; it provokes attacks of opportunity from creatures other than the one who triggered this deed. The swashbuckler can only perform this deed while wearing light or no armor, and while carrying no heavier than a light load.

At 2nd level, the swashbuckler gains a knack for getting out of trouble. Three times per day as an immediate action before attempting a saving throw, she can add her Charisma modifier to the result of the save. She must choose to do this before the roll is made. At 6th level and every 4 levels thereafter, the number of times she can do this per day increases by one (to a maximum of 7 times per day at 18th level).

Mouser:
Underfoot Assault (Ex): At 1st level, if a foe whose size is larger than the mouser's is adjacent to her and misses her with a melee attack, the mouser can as an immediate action spend 1 panache point to move 5 feet into an area of the attacker's space. This movement does not count against the mouser's movement the next round, and it doesn't provoke attacks of opportunity. While the mouser is within a foe's space, she is considered to occupy her square within that foe's space.

While the mouser is within her foe's space, the foe takes a –4 penalty on all attack rolls and combat maneuver checks not made against the mouser, and all of the mouser's allies that are adjacent to both the foe and the mouser are considered to be flanking the foe. The mouser is considered to be flanking the foe whose space she is within if she is adjacent to an ally who is also adjacent to the foe. The mouser can move within her foe's space and leave the foe's space unhindered and without provoking attacks of opportunity, but if the foe attempts to move to a position where the mouser is no longer in its space, the movement provokes an attack of opportunity from the mouser. This deed replaces opportune parry and riposte.

1 - tailor made: I imagine that a solo game would be really custom made for the PC what makes the role playing experience much more gratifying.
2 - faster: Don't have to wait for the other players to post and don't have to hold myself of posting too much would be awesome, also I guess the game would run faster.
3 - continuous feedback: since it is a solo, I expect to be a good game for both me and you, since it takes a heavy amount of our time (obviously more of your time).
4 - to be a blast!

The mansion is cold tonight.

To be honest, it's a fitting atmosphere for the end of an unnerving day. I never thought that I would be able to go through with the deed after slaving away at the old kook's beck and call for years, especially considering that I am was his prized exotic pet. The other humans must have been too boring, or maybe too untrustworthy. Naturally, the spawn of a demon is far more likely to keep your secrets safe.

But I digress.

The manor must run like clockwork. The others (save maybe for Chess) must know nothing of the master's unfortunate situation. It shouldn't be much of a problem, anyway. I suppose I'm always the one to divvy out the master's orders. With that said and done, the living and working conditions around here must improve. I swear to the fiery gods below, Chess and Kinsley are about to join the old bastard in hell if they don't recover from this wheezy, blood-spitting cough...

Speaking of the old bastard, we can't have him stinking up the study now, can we? I should probably get on that...

Finally, my poor decrepit hand has recovered enough to write. No idea what the master was on, but there was some sort of sticky substance seeping from his surprisingly lifelike corpse. The poison's in his bloodstream, of course, but I was never informed that it would cause any sort of reaction on the surface of the victim's skin. Anyway, the damned secretion froze up every muscle under my skin that it came into contact with, and I had to pass it off with the others as though I'd tipped one of the master's statues onto my entire left side while I was cleaning. Somehow, they all bought it. It's not as if any of them were privileged enough to enter the master's quarters in the first place, so I suppose the whole "broken statue" charade worked. I got to spend last Toilday in the makeshift sickhouse with Chess and Kinsley, and I finally have recovered the use of my fine motor skills. Ugh. That means that it's time to respond to some of the master's long overdue mail. He never kept up with his relations, anyway.

Wrapped the master up in a blanket all baby-like and carried him down the stairs, no problem. Thank the gods that there wasn't enough secretion left on his skin to seep through the blanket. I like the use of my arms.

The master No, screw it, he's a corpse. The corpse is now in one of the many unoccupied storage rooms in the mansion's sprawling basement. The door to the room is shut, locked, and I have the key. Even if some extremely lost foreigner or homeless bum- heck, even if the local authorities busted into the room, they'd just see a corpse. It's not as if the man had any visitors over, I wonder if there's a soul left in the world, other than I, who would even recognize his face? I almost feel a fleeting hint of pity for the slave driving man.

...And now it's gone.

I don't want to die. Please, I CAN'T DIE YET. GODS, DEMONS, ANYONE, PLEASE, I'LL DO ANYTHING. Just let me live...

I don't think that any of the others know about the boils. I've holed up inside the mansion, and just sent out the orders through a slowly recovering Chess. Other than Chess, the others think that the master is the one who is deathly ill, and that I'm spending my time tending to him. Chess thinks that I'm trying to keep the boils from being spread to the others. In truth, I doubt that they're contagious. They only ended up forming on the skin that was exposed to the toxin from the corpse.

In a way, I have been tending to the master for days. I've been studying the corpse, specifically the secretion, to try and find a cure for these horrific boils. The sick stuff is definitely some sort of toxin. Every basement rat that I've exposed the stuff to has gradually lost strength in their limbs until they've simply died. Really, I should just be happy that I've survived my encounter with the corpse. It doesn't work the same way as the poison that the now-corpse ingested, either. I think it came from a separate source.

Dear gods, I'm an idiot for not having closely examined the study sooner! Guess the whole "don't touch the books" rule was more thoroughly ingrained in my head than I thought. Turns out, an entire shelf of that man's book collection was devoted entirely to the practice of self-defense. Not only was he an antisocial kook, he was a paranoid kook as well! Naturally, a book on defensive toxin use just happened to be sitting open on the man's desk as he died. After flipping through the open chapter, it seems as though the man had been trying to force a hormonal gland in his body to produce an asphyxiating toxin keyed to his body through arcane means. In other words, produce poison that couldn't harm him, but could harm others. Another later chapter in the book highlighted the excretion of defensive musk from a snake's scales, and related the forced secretion of musk in the snake's body to the forced secretion of toxin in a poison user's body.

He knew that I was killing him, and thus tried to get back at me. That's... an unnerving thought. Still can't figure out how to get rid of these boils, though.

I think I've been spending too much time in the basement with the corpse. First I forget entirely about writing in this journal, and then I start seeing things moving under the largest boil on my body, currently protruding from my wrist. Ugh, it wasn't the smartest idea to be experimenting with herbs, arcane magics, and hazardous toxins while recovering from an outbreak of boils.

Sometimes I wonder why I even bother recording things in here, and then remember that I have a child, somewhere, who knows nothing of his father. Gah..

Well, I think that I must be losing my sanity, or at the very least actually losing chucks of my flesh. I'm not quite sure, though, the pain typically associated with flesh being eaten away really isn't there.

Anyway, the boil on my wrist exploded today, and I swear to the gods, a bloody plant came waltzing out of it. Just waltzing right out, smile on its face, like a little hell spawned baby that doesn't have a care in the world. Yes, the plant has a face. It does, I swear. I'm staring at it right now. The plant also is literally bloody. It is covered in bits of boil, and seems quite content just staring devilishly at me. For once, I feel like less of a demon than any other occupant of the room.

So the plant can attach itself to my flesh whenever it wants. It just pricks its roots up the veins in my wrist and proceeds to harden like some sort of living tumor. I've learned to stop questioning the damn thing. On the other hand, I have also wrapped my head around how the ex-master trained his body to produce arcane toxins. Read the book through a few times over, and the idea finally clicks in your mind.

I also went to grab some much needed necessities at the market. Ever since the devil-leech-plant extracted itself from my arm, the boils have begun to heal over. I doubt my arm is ever going to be exactly pleasant looking again, but at least I won't be actively bleeding anymore.

Since the book on defensive toxins has thoroughly piqued my interest, I decided to speak to the potion vendor at market, and she promised to teach me some of her techniques if I could do away with one of her rivals in business as I did my master.

Oh, the joy of blackmail.

Damn arcane casters. Send them all to hell. I don't care if there are spells that can be used to read minds or not, they need to be classed as dark magic now, period.

Well then, I suppose I'm off to contemplate homicide and continue to pretend that everything is just business as normal in this whole screwed up manor.

What the hell have I gotten myself into...?

Forgive the ugly formatting, haven't picked gear or spells yet but I think his skills and breakdown give an idea of how he's going to operate. I'll have everything wrapped up by the deadline.

Julius Fetch – Lawful Evil Human Enchanter 3 Opposition Schools: Evocation, Abjuration
Str 8 Dex 12 Con 12 Int 19 Wis 10 Cha 14
HP 15 AC 11 Fort +2 Ref +2 Will +3
Traits: Witty Repartee, Child of the Streets , Well Informed, Survivor
Feats: Scribe Scroll, Spell Focus Enchantment, Additional Traits, Craft Wondrous Item
Adventure Skills (Rank): Spellcraft +10 (3), Knowledge Arcana +10 (3), Knowledge Local +10 (3) Knowledge History +8 (1), Sleight of Hand +8 (3), Appraise +10 (3), Bluff +9 (3), Diplomacy (3), Sense Motive +5 (1), Linguistics +8 (1),
Background Skills (Rank): Artistry +10 (3), Lore +10 (3)

Ten years, seven months, nine days. Three shining lines slowly crawled across the floor of his wretched hole exactly five hundred and eighty four times. I’ve kept count. Every day the sunlight lazily drifts across the ground and every day Julius Fetch sits in this dank cell counting another piece of his opportunity fall into the ocean outside.

I’m rotting.

Not like one of those undead husks back in the academy or the bowls of filth given to me by that mute oaf. A silent jailor is the worst jailor a man could have. If only I had my spell book, if only I could somehow scratch out the simplest charm spell into the floor, I’d make that fool talk. I’d make that fool talk himself right off a cliff.

This situation, of course, is because of Perry. Perry Vikas III, Grandson of one of the most powerful wizards to ever grace the planet. Perry had everything handed to him, everything. I came from the streets. He was also a dunce, barely capable of comprehending any incantation past the first circle. He was spoiled as well. When he saw something he wanted he had to have it one way or the other. It was on this mutual ground that we would form our friendship and on which my fate would be sealed.

The portrait of Aladar Neptus, first Wizard King of old Loremund, was worth a small fortune. Perry had no idea, of course, and just wanted to take something because he could. I however had secured a buyer, rented a small room near the academy to store the painting and most impressively, painted a somewhat realistic copy.

We snuck in under the cover of night, Perry and I. We used invisibility to get past the night watchman that wondered the halls, simple enough. A knock spell opened the door to the sanctum; the entry way was where the picture resided. It was hard to believe a dedicated group of wizards would leave such a treasure so unguarded.

Now Perry’s other defining feature, other than his lack of wit, was his freakish height. Perry stood 6 feet and 9 inches in height. It’s one of the reasons I wanted him to come along at all. It was up to him to grab the painting while I watched our exit. The next thing I remember is the loud snap of the fire trap and the thud of Perry’s seared corpse on the ground. He had managed to pull the painting down, utterly destroying it. I ran of course. It didn’t take long for them to find me.

Perry was resurrected and I was blamed for his murder. He was more than happy to blame me for everything. I had apparently masterminded his murder as well. Even Great Grandfather Vikas was there to smile and watch them “…with great mercy” allow me to live the rest of my days in a cell overlooking the sea.

Ten years, seven months, nine days. That is how much time Perry has stolen from me, that is how much time the destroyed painting of Aladar Neptus has stolen from me, and that is how much time they have all stolen from me. But worry not, gentle reader, for a miracle has happened. The gods have seen fit to free Julius Fetch from his prison and unleash him once again on the world. When the mute stopped showing up I thought I would die, but instead I found that the entire cliff was crumbling. My island prison was falling apart and had been abandoned. They forgot poor old Julius and let his prison wall fall into the sea. I’ll spare you the details of how I made my way back to shore, how I traded and took works of art I noticed stole and sold to rebuild my spell book, just know that I have come to Cassomir to build my empire and plot my revenge.

Julius Fetch is an art thief and manipulator. His current goal is to build a network of art traders and contacts willing to purchase stolen works. At some point he plans to branch out into the theft of magic items but realizes that such work is beyond him for now. He augments his thieving skills with magic and takes great pains to plan out a heist. He often keeps tabs on various pawns he can use to bypass certain challenges he lacks the skill to do, or to distract guards and security from important jobs. He is always on the lookout for the next great work of art he can liberate.

Julius is 34 years old, having been thrown into prison near the end of his studies at the Academy. He has finely kept short blonde hair with a streak of grey. He keeps himself clean shaven with meticulously kept mutton chops, although he’s prone to experimenting with facial hair. He pays attention to how he dresses and likes to remain fashionable. He has also developed a mild cough he can’t seem to shake from his time in the cell, which explains his lack of stealth and possibly low rolls in the future ;)

As a character Julius is scarred and embittered from his experience in the cell. He is currently lawful evil but redemption isn’t impossible. He’s arrogant but paranoid, believing a well thought out plan can be unstoppable but there are uncertain factors in everything he does. He admires beauty and works of art and often covets what he steals, though he understands turning these things into money is more important for now.

In combat I plan to utilize a lot of illusions and enchantments to make things fight for me and to stay out of trouble. He’s more avoidant than combative. But if he HAS to fight, he’ll go for the slow burn, whittling down his enemies while being untouchable. If it looks like a fair fight he’ll run away.

Julius’ primary contact and friend in the city is a woman named Lyra Brund. Lyra runs the local tavern/seedy brothel and for the right price (often spellcasting services) will make recommendations to Julius for weak willed patrons that he could easily manipulate. Lyra is a brawny woman with a mean streak who often develops grudges, she considers Julius as a form of punishment to people she doesn’t like. She refers to his as her curse, but in reality Julius is the one casting the spells.

Perry, of course, is still Julius’ hated enemy, but he resides in another town. Julius has no idea if Perry has become more dangerous but he knows his family is extremely powerful and is currently untouchable. He someday plans on enacting his revenge, but won’t do so unless it’s done in an elaborate and overly artful manner. Julius has not decided exactly what his final monologue for Perry will be, but often thinks of the moment.

In Cassomir, Julius’ biggest foe in the underworld is a rival wizard, Ursula. Ursula is a mercenary and often finds herself in her way of Julius’ goals. Julius is unsure if she is specialized in a school of magic thus far but knows that her wards and protections stopped him from liberating his most recent prize, a statue of the 5th empress. She had managed to utilize illusion to confuse the muscle Julius had brought along and thwart his plans, forcing him to retreat before the guards arrived. Ursula is loud, boisterous, and unpredictable and is a constant uncertainty in Julius’ plans. Julius hates uncertainty.

For some, it is not enough to live life simply for oneself. Some strive to bring happiness to others. Some try to bring others suffering and pain. Others still see absolute perfection in a trusted friend or loved one. For those others, life isn't about themselves. Their sense of self is not gained from their own accomplishments. Their stories cannot be told without mention of their idol; in fact, their story is more about the other half of their relationship than it is about them.

Ferox is one of those "others."

His story cannot be truly grasped without telling the story from the perspective of another. His personal story opens not with his own birth, but with the conception of Syrreth.

Syrreth is hauntingly beautiful black dragon female. Currently a late juvenile, her egg was the only thing saved from her mother's den after a powerful wizard left her mother dead and the subservient kobold tribe's home in shambles. The Blackfang kobold tribe vowed to preserve their beloved leader's legacy by ensuring the survival and prosperity of her only offspring. They were going to make their leader's young into a queen.

After trekking across the surface world for countless nights, the Blackfang tribe grew dangerously close to humanoid civilization- they only evaded detection by crawling into a hole in the side of a large, winding stone structure. Unbeknownst to the Blackfangs, the stone structure was a broken sewer pipe. All that the tribe knew was that the murky waters, darkness, and stone walls of the sewer felt like their old home in the swamp, and in that swampy sewer they would stay.

The egg hatched several weeks later into a beautiful female wyrmling that the kobolds named Syrreth, born of her mother's ebony scales laced with sweeping strokes of lavender that matched her deep, predatory eyes. She was brought up upon the delicacies of the sewers. While the kobolds ate fungus, spiders, and cockroaches, Syrreth was fed only the plumpest of rats and centipedes. By the time that Syrreth had grown out of her wyrmling state, her favorite activity had quickly become hunting, whether it be hunting for actual food or stalking and scaring the living daylights out of her kobold caretakers.

It was around this time in her life that Syrreth first met Ferox, a young kobold who had been assigned to watch Syrreth at all times, making sure that she didn't get lost in the never ending labyrinth of the sewers. As Ferox had been born after the Blackfang tribe's journey to the sewers, he never quite understood the fear, awe, and reverence in which Syrreth was regarded. Most Blackfang kobolds born after the "Great Migration" were also birthed after Syrreth had learned to hunt, and respected her innate predatory instinct and the raw power behind her movements, but an ambitious and overconfident Ferox saw her as an equal. He had been born with wings, albeit thin, papery ones, and had been raised alongside Syrreth when she was a pathetic, mewling wyrmling.

The two made for an odd duo, with friendliness yet a hint of jealousy regarding the other. Ferox could see that Syrreth was much stronger and could use her wings more effectively than him, while Syrreth was aware enough of kobold behavior to tell that Ferox was more cunning, intelligent, and manipulative than she would ever be. At first, this led to the two butting heads constantly. Syrreth used her brute strength to threaten Ferox into doing her bidding, and Ferox had to do so as he was assigned the role of her guide through the sewers. Ferox, however, took pride in the fact that he could manipulate the young wyrm to his advantage. He often made small deals with her in order to feast upon the food that was typically solely reserved for Syrreth, and was a master of subtly leading her into frustrating situations without her knowledge of his involvement.

After years flew by, however, a wisening Syrreth began to see that she would accomplish more by working with Ferox than against him. The remarkable kobold had just as much of an instinct to hoard wealth and gain power as she did, and during her early juvenile stages, was more successful at gathering resources for Syrreth's tiny hoard than she was. At this point, the Blackfang tribe was becoming increasingly aware of the riches that came from the world above the sewers, and were constantly plotting as to how they would acquire these riches for Syrreth without attracting attention to their growing queen. Ferox, naturally, devised a way to lead the humans above to their doom. By leaving a good portion of the tribe's meager wealth sitting below a dismantled sewer grate at night, Ferox could tempt a lone numbskull into sticking his arm in the hole only to be pulled into it by several knife-wielding kobolds and a dragon. The body would then be stripped of its belongings and promptly eaten. Within a few weeks, Ferox had expanded Syrreth's hoard threefold.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Syrreth, nearly mature, now lords over the Blackfang tribe from her growing pile of trinkets and rotting remains. She spends most of her time plotting eagerly with Ferox, though can see that time is taking a toll on his frail little body. This worries her. After spending forty years with the kobold, he's become a comfort that she is quickly realizing can't be taken for granted.

Ferox, on the other hand, has simply become motivated to become more and more like his dragon queen. Syrreth is his obsession. Not only has he made it his goal to leave the entire city above in Syrreth's iron grip before he dies, but is so consumed by his mad lust for power that he has formed a connection with the Dark Tapestry itself- the place where all true power lies. This connection could be considered both his greatest strength and his greatest weakness. It keeps him focused, ever cold and calculating, yet also keeps him increasingly near-sighted. He no longer sees nor cares about anything in the world other than his dear queen Syrreth and control over as many living creatures as possible.

Whispers run through the Blackfang tribe about Ferox's madness, but not a soul would dare lay a finger on his withering frame.

He is Syrreth's most prized treasure, after all, and no one would ever want to get on the bad side of an acid-breathing, sharp-toothed, razor-clawed queen.

Ferox is an ambitious little kobold, but he is no idiot- the adage "know thy enemy" has been his guiding force for years. He has spent much of his time reading through the little books carried by his victims, and eavesdrops on the Cassomirians' conversations on a daily basis. From all of this observation, he has constructed an elaborate picture of Cassomir, its leaders, and its culture- and if there's one vulnerability he's discovered in the system, it's the vulnerability of religion. Humble, low ranking clergymen and nuns are naturally trusted. A man can always tell his deepest, darkest secrets to a servant of the gods.

Ferox has set up his plan to leave as little room for error as possible. The initial plan goes like this: Ferox has placed a locked treasure chest with a slot in the top in a fairly noble section Cassomir, above which is painted the message, "Those needing of a precant to pray with may leave a note with their deity of worship and place of residence in the box. Notes are checked daily. A small donation to the church out of the recipient's goodwill is all that is asked in return."

Ferox has collected a plethora of holy symbols and a reversible linen cloak, white on one side and black on the other. He has learned to disguise himself as a gnome by draping the cloak over himself in such a way that very little of his body is exposed, and makes sure to wear gloves and boots whenever in his disguise. This leads to the current day: Ferox is ready to put his plan into motion. He knows enough of religion to pray properly and is diplomatic enough to comfort others. All that is left to be seen is the amount of information that Ferox will gain from his deception.

With that said, the Precant job is just a base for a multifaceted plan to destroy the Cassomirian nobility from the inside out. A little information is enough to pit two noblemen against each other. The murder of the right commoner can lead to hatred between the greatest of factions.

Finally, when Cassomir has the poison of betrayal running through its veins, the city will die from the inside out. It will be time for a new leader to rise and rule the city.

It will be time for dragonkind to lord over its rightful subjects.

All hail queen Syrreth.

While assassination and such may occur within the game, I'm expecting that there will be much less combat within this scenario than in most. With that out of the way, I just wanted to mention that I'm really looking forward to the character interactions, especially with your interpretation of Syrreth's character.

Heh.

Not saying that carefully plotted murder isn't fun.

The Cassomir Twins Tyrren and Gisela have their eyes on making it big. But there are a few obstacles in their way. The underworld of their city is a large and powerful beast and they but two siblings living in their shack pretending to be merchants. While most of their business was above board they were not immune to requests to acquire or sell questionable goods if the price was right. While Gisela officially ran the storefront during the day, Tyrren sometimes went out at night to 'acquire' various things for their clients or simply himself. Working together as a team or seperately on different pursuits, they always have each others backs.

It has been this way ever since they could move. Left in an orphanage as babies fighting to survive the tough world, every day a struggle, bullied by the other kids just because they were smaller and easier targets. The orphanage had no information about their past or where their parents might be or even if they were alive. It was just them against the world. When they were caught stealing and trying to sell valuables they were thrown out of the orphanage to live on their own, labeled troublesome teenagers and beyond help. They survived just fine, plying their trade and skills, magical and mundane, to get ahead. Soon their business venture began in earnest, Cassomir Goods, a small shop in the alleys out front of the shack they called home.