Shadow over Riddleport

Game Master Joana

"A dwarvish metal twister would hardly have raised the sea though? Surely that must be linked? - and is no coincidence?" hoping that feverish interest might still keep her tongue active where it should not be.

The wizardess squints out at the sea from behind her spectacles as if she hadn't been aware it had done anything out of the ordinary -- not all that surprising, Phil reflects, up here atop the ridge at the highest point of the city. "Druidic," she murmurs to herself, "definitely druidic. I'm sorry," she goes on in a not very apologetic tone, turning her attention back to Phillip, "but do you work here? I've not seen you in the Lodge." She looks down at him sternly.

Channelling his best enigmatic half-smile, Phillip responds in a voice that hints at half-shadows "No, I don't work... here... the master to which I am beholden holds sway below" wafting an arm to encompass an area that smears across the Goblin and towards Free-Coin. "He is not fond of mystery though, and would look kindly upon whoever would be able to clarify today's events for him..." letting the words trail before trying to see if the distracted Mistress has been following any of the half-truths or sheltered lies he had been spinning.

Have to be subtle about it... but I'm to thinking this one's mind might operate a bit left of normal... not sure if the words are getting through.

She smiles. "Pretty sure I still owe you for breakfast the morning we met. Why don't we just say we'll do what we can to help each other out without keeping score?" She looks a little worried when Braddon tells her the plan. "You're all going back over there?" she asks. "Maybe I'll go up to the Cypherlodge for the afternoon ... if you think Mr. Vankaskerkin won't mind. Or I could go with you," she offers brightly.

Braddon's face lights up, then falls, then twists painfully.

The ferryman's directions take Gristav and Jaelle to the north of the Mystery of the Gate, the large circular inn and conference center owned and operated by the Cypherlodge and through the marketplace in Leeward Common where he and Samaritha shopped for dinner yesterday.

"Say, here, help me look the part...", Gristav asks, inspired. Pulling a scarf from a merchant's cart, he holds it to the light, then against Jaelle's tone, with a faint frown. "I don't suppose a Varisi would choose that color. But I'll have to put something over these ears. What might suit? And do we even have time?"

"The Cloud won't leave till the tide turns," she belatedly answers the question he asked on the west side of the river. "This evening at the earliest, more likely in the morning. I'd not worry they've weighed anchor without me for some time yet."

"Shall we shop then? Would you lend a lady's head for hues, a gypsy's gift for garish grace, and fit a fabric to this fae fool?" Gristav doesn't even break meter as he continues speaking in Varisian, "Hitzak ezagunak dira, baina esanahi? Etxe bakarra belarrian etxeko abesti kantatu gaizki entzuten."

As the road they're walking turns northward toward the pocket formed by the rocky ridge hemming in the town, Gristav spies a cobblestoned courtyard ahead on the left, where a worked-iron fence directs traffic around several small tables and chairs in front of a low, comfortable-looking building with latticed windows and overflowing flower boxes. A wooden placard hanging outside depicts a confused-looking duck which seems to be facing three directions at once.

"That omens well, for such a menu, that we cannot choose. Each offering more tempting than the last... Let us hope."

"Can you help in a fight? Or an interrogation?"

"No," she replies, crestfallen. "Well... maybe. I guess. I have some spells to protect myself with, if I ever need to. I never intended to use them to fight with, though: more to dissuade anyone from chasing me while I'm running away."

"Shall we shop then? Would you lend a lady's head for hues, a gypsy's gift for garish grace, and fit a fabric to this fae fool?"

"Zara Varisi baten zati bat jotzen?" Jaelle asks, eyeing him critically. "Zer dantza al da?"

"No," she replies, crestfallen. "Well... maybe. I guess. I have some spells to protect myself with, if I ever need to. I never intended to use them to fight with, though: more to dissuade anyone from chasing me while I'm running away."

"There's just this scribe, so it shouldn't be too dangerous. If you really want to come, I'll look after you. But if he doesn't tell us anything I may have to beat him a bit."

Gristav wrote:

"Shall we shop then? Would you lend a lady's head for hues, a gypsy's gift for garish grace, and fit a fabric to this fae fool?"

"Zara Varisi baten zati bat jotzen?" Jaelle asks, eyeing him critically. "Zer dantza al da?"

"No, I'm to be the rube, and be orbited by the ladies, and removed of all my valuables. I've considered investing in pants of cloth-of-gold." He grins, joking. "But after the 'act', there is the rest of the evening, and I'd rather support the theme than work against it. As well, if the theme goes well, it may be revisited. Further, Varisi are a large part of this town, and I'm liable to be here long enough to see value in being able to blend, if not pass. And Finally...", he grins again, "What else could I reasonably ask your advice on?"

"There's just this scribe, so it shouldn't be too dangerous. If you really want to come, I'll look after you. But if he doesn't tell us anything I may have to beat him a bit."

"Well... if he doesn't tell you anything, maybe I'll head up to the Cypherlodge then," she suggests.

Once Braddon has rearmed and armored himself, he and Samaritha join Malkith and Daynadrian waiting in the corridor near the back door. "I'm coming with you," she smiles at them, "unless you have any objections to my company. I'll try to stay well out of your way."

Braddon, Malkith, and Daynadrian (with Samaritha in tow unless Malkith objects) walk back north through Leeward District. The streets are bustling with lunchtime traffic, and the storefronts offering meat pies and other quick snacks are crowded; the aroma reminds Braddon that he hasn't eaten since last night's dinner. As they approach the building that houses the scribe's office and Lil's secret flat, Daynadrian calls a halt on the corner.

"How are we going to approach?" he asks quietly. "One of us at each door to keep him from escaping or a show of force at his office? Should we send someone he hasn't seen before to keep him from making a break for it as soon as he sees Malkith?"

"No, I'm to be the rube, and be orbited by the ladies, and removed of all my valuables. I've considered investing in pants of cloth-of-gold." He grins, joking. "But after the 'act', there is the rest of the evening, and I'd rather support the theme than work against it. As well, if the theme goes well, it may be revisited. Further, Varisi are a large part of this town, and I'm liable to be here long enough to see value in being able to blend, if not pass. And Finally...", he grins again, "What else could I reasonably ask your advice on?"

"Ergela en Iruzur," she grins, and Gristav recognizes the name as the same Thuvalia used for the dance. "Then you should not look Varisian, at least for the dance; you must be a proper gadjo." She replaces the scarf on the cart and picks up a tall Taldan hat, setting it on his head and pulling it low over his brow and ears. "There," she nods, pulling a dignified face, "now you are fit to have your pockets emptied by the Sczarni. Add a proper frock-coat and some lace at your wrists. Or," she removes the hat and replaces it with a battered and shapeless straw version with a wide brim, "go as a farmer, his harvest newly turned into coin in his pocket, ripe to be gleaned by the caravan girls in the market square."

Channelling his best enigmatic half-smile, Phillip responds in a voice that hints at half-shadows "No, I don't work... here... the master to which I am beholden holds sway below" wafting an arm to encompass an area that smears across the Goblin and towards Free-Coin. "He is not fond of mystery though, and would look kindly upon whoever would be able to clarify today's events for him..." letting the words trail before trying to see if the distracted Mistress has been following any of the half-truths or sheltered lies he had been spinning.

"I see." Her gaze grows harder and her lips more tight. "You may tell your master he can go through proper channels to seek the Cypherlodge's expertise rather than sending spies. If he wants arcane expertise about the situation in the harbor, he can petition Master Tammerhawk for it rather than trying to steal it. Now I suggest," she goes on, dipping her hand into a pocket in her robes, "you march right down off this hill and let us finish our work in peace."

Phillip finds himself turning to walk away, and some distance is covered before he consciously realises what must have transpired. A face that was until then still genially covered with a smile turns instantly to a scowl and he pauses at the base of the hill to look back at the Cypherlodge. He raises his left hand to slick back his hair and then turns to one side and spits on the ground.

An eye goes to the sky to gauge the time of day before he begins to walk Northwards...

"How are we going to approach?" he asks quietly. "One of us at each door to keep him from escaping or a show of force at his office? Should we send someone he hasn't seen before to keep him from making a break for it as soon as he sees Malkith?"

Braddon stops at a store front and buys a couple of meat pies for himself and also any for his companions should they show an interest. The first pie is wolfed down in scant moments and he gnaws at the second as they halt on the corner.

Malkith frowns slightly as Samaritha announces her intentions of accompanying the party. He strolls through the streets in silence, gratuitously accepting the meat pie from Braddon. Despite the quick snack at the casino this morning, it had been equally as long since the Varisian has eaten as well. It also gave him an excuse not to speak.

Finally, as the gang stops at the street corner, Malkith finally offers his plan. "If Daynadrian and Sam want to cover the alley and street, I can give you a few minutes to investigate the flat before entering from the front. I'd rather he not try to escape out onto the street." Malkith looks up and down the lane for emphasis, "Too public. You can either come down the passage or make your commotion to draw us up there."

"I'll take the alley," Daynadrian says, looking at Samaritha kindly, "you take the street. You're out in public there and shouldn't be in any danger. Just find a way to let someone know if anyone comes out that side door and which way he's going." His gaze and tone grow more businesslike as he turns to Braddon. "Come on then. I'll open the door, then take a position where I can see the door and both ends of the alley."

As Daynadrian and Braddon leave to circle around into the alley, Samaritha turns to Malkith. "Show me where this door is that I'm supposed to watch." They also go around the back way, lest Weatherby recognize Malkith as he passes by the front windows. "You're not pleased I came, are you?" Samaritha asks after a moment of silence.

Once in the alley, Daynadrian motions to Braddon to keep watch while he creeps up the staircase. After listening a moment at the door, he sets to work picking the lock as he did last night, working quietly and deliberately. After a few minutes, he withdraws his picks, nods in satisfaction, then puts away his tools and descends the staircase again, remembering to avoid the step with the creak. "It's all yours," he whispers to Braddon. "Shout if you need me."

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

Having arrived back in the river valley, Phil casts a resentful glance back at the summit -- though he still can't help but feel that it is probably for the best that the wizards conduct their investigation without outside interruption. He gauges the position of the sun in the sky and the length of the shadows and idly wonders how long one must live in Riddleport before the Cyphergate begins automatically to serve as a gigantic sundial. Back in Magnimar, he would judge that he had six hours of daylight before dusk fell; shadows fall earlier here between the rocky ridges. He estimates he has some three hours before merchants begin to shutter their shops.

A guilty look passes over Malkith's face as he takes Samaritha's hand. After a moment's hesitation he finds his voice. "I'm always happy to be in your company. Perhaps that is why I am feeling babes. Your dream is a life at the Cypher Lodge, not chasing down zakarrontzira that consort with devils. It would pain me if you were ever hurt; doubly so if was because of us." He gestures to the scribe's building to indicate the rest of the party. Releasing her hand, Malkith takes a step back, appraising Samaritha from head to toe. The corner of his mouth curls upward slightly. "Baina oraindik zara Varisian eta gure pertsonak ez dira hain hauskorrak. Mesedez, barkaidazu. Ez da nire leku ekintza dictate nahi."

Once in the alley, Daynadrian motions to Braddon to keep watch while he creeps up the staircase. After listening a moment at the door, he sets to work picking the lock as he did last night, working quietly and deliberately. After a few minutes, he withdraws his picks, nods in satisfaction, then puts away his tools and descends the staircase again, remembering to avoid the step with the creak. "It's all yours," he whispers to Braddon. "Shout if you need me."

Braddon listens carefully, before making his way slowly inside Lil's apartment. With the intent of laying an ambush, he first checks behind the door and around the apartment in case one is already in place, even checking underneath the giant bed. He next makes his way to the secret door and examines it carefully. Once he's sure that everything is fine, he leaves the main door open, gives a friendly nod to Daynadrian outside, then waits back beside the secret passage, ready to jump the scribe should he enter.

"I'm always happy to be in your company. Perhaps that is why I am feeling babes. Your dream is a life at the Cypher Lodge, not chasing down zakarrontzira that consort with devils. It would pain me if you were ever hurt; doubly so if was because of us." He gestures to the scribe's building to indicate the rest of the party. Releasing her hand, Malkith takes a step back, appraising Samaritha from head to toe. The corner of his mouth curls upward slightly. "Baina oraindik zara Varisian eta gure pertsonak ez dira hain hauskorrak. Mesedez, barkaidazu. Ez da nire leku ekintza dictate nahi."

"Eta hau da zure ametsa?" she asks wryly. "Profeta, ez gerlari bat zara. Patuak duzun utzi izanez gero, oraindik ere, nahi baduzu, zure karabana behar dute." She shrugs with a smile. "The cards already said I was in danger. Surely I'm safer with all of you around me than alone. This is the door I'm to watch?" She finds an out-of-the-way place across the street where she has a good view of the side exit. "Don't worry," she assures him. "I haven't the slightest intention of being a hero." She squeezes his hand before he walks around the corner toward the main entrance of the office.

"Ergela en Iruzur," she grins, and Gristav recognizes the name as the same Thuvalia used for the dance. "Then you should not look Varisian, at least for the dance; you must be a proper gadjo." She replaces the scarf on the cart and picks up a tall Taldan hat, setting it on his head and pulling it low over his brow and ears. "There," she nods, pulling a dignified face, "now you are fit to have your pockets emptied by the Sczarni. Add a proper frock-coat and some lace at your wrists. Or," she removes the hat and replaces it with a battered and shapeless straw version with a wide brim, "go as a farmer, his harvest newly turned into coin in his pocket, ripe to be gleaned by the caravan girls in the market square."

At her dignity, Gristav preens, superior to the just-tolerable offering. At the rustic rattan, he affects a toe-digging bashfulness. "Gorsh... No, that's not right. He's intended to be distracted by lust. I'll have to really work on that characterization.", he says, grinning at Jaelle.

"I'd probably find more regular uses for the frock coat. But the Taldane topper is rich enough the ladies would plunder it, and then we are back to my ears. I'm happy with them, proud of them, I suppose, but they would be a fife trill in a vocal performance; they would clash with the scene. So, we are back to scarves? And hats and coats? I could put either straw or felt over cloth, and not be too jarring..."

Gristav will try to find, amid the shopping, something suitable (as his meager judgement might measure) for Jaelle, a scarf perhaps, and present it as a gift to her, "As faint recompense for your time and advice. Please, it's only fair. You didn't have to support my folly of escorting Padraig, nor tolerate my excesses. And here you are, spending good hours after ba... well, I hope, not bad. It wasn... It hasn't been...? Anyway, please have it."

He estimates he has some three hours before merchants begin to shutter their shops.

After considering where he was and the walk ahead of him Phil gets his shortened legs at task and makes North for the ferry - hoping that it is returned to some semblance of operation by now. His path from there takes him Eastwards and towards Ethel's employer.

"As faint recompense for your time and advice. Please, it's only fair. You didn't have to support my folly of escorting Padraig, nor tolerate my excesses. And here you are, spending good hours after ba... well, I hope, not bad. It wasn... It hasn't been...? Anyway, please have it."

Jaelle initially seems reluctant to accept the scarf, but Gristav succeeds in pressing it on her. She wraps it around her forearm as they continue to the Three Billed Duck. After the detour through the stalls of the marketplace, the lunch crowd has returned to their places of employment. Only a single gnome is seated at a table in the courtyard, a dog as large as he is peering eagerly over the railing at him. The door to the interior of the tavern itself stands open on the chance that a wandering hint of breeze might stray in.

After making the East bank of the Velashu, Phil takes his time as he meanders through the streets in a relatively circuitous fashion. Not looking for anything in particular, he merely takes the opportunity to revel in silence and introspection - eyes open, ears listening and putting as much of the day's unpleasantness from his thoughts as he could manage.

As he walks, and almost unthinking on a whim he murmurs "Mumble Mumble Phillip,
Alone in the maize." channeling a childhood memory of Magnimar and realizing that with each step taken in Riddleport his shadow lengthens... The small vial of perfume weighs heavy in his pocket, but also his recent encounter with the female species proving less than savory - Phil realises that further contingency would be of use.

Out loud to no-one but himself Phillip nods and confirms "Aye, Free-Coin tonight..." before finding himself before the door to Ladies' Attire & Necessities... a smirk beginning to form as he gathers his pomp and enters the establishment.

Ethel is given a sly wink, before Phillip addresses Betta "Milady" giving a small bow, and awaiting it to be returned before continuing.

"No, I suppose this is not," Malkith confesses, "My ametsak are much simpler, even if it is my deituz to go where I am needed. He squeezes her hand in return as he pulls himself away. "Be careful all the same, maitea."

With a renewed sense of confidence, Malkith heads directly to the front door of Weatherby's shop. He casts a glance through the front window as he approaches, trying to catch a glimpse of the scribe. Ready to confront the man again, the harrower reaches for the door and enters.

Jaelle initially seems reluctant to accept the scarf, but Gristav succeeds in pressing it on her. She wraps it around her forearm as they continue to the Three Billed Duck.

"Odd choice, that.", Gristav observes aloud, pondering a pace or two, thoughtful, theorizing. "Is there some more', some tradition, I've nearly trespassed? You don't have to take it, I can take no for an answer. I just... would rather find our path to yes."

"Could you wear it as a Qadiran blade might? Doubled to a triangle, bound about the waist, the layers of cloth protecting the fabric beneath from the wear of the findings of the scabbard, owing to the steady sway, of their long treks on horse- or camel-back? I know you've no horse...", he frowned pensively, then smiled at her. "But there's still a sway. You may trust me, on that point."

"Such a mounting might give a Qadiran pause, set him wondering if your scimitar's slash is a step in such dance as they set above other styles. Then again, perhaps that is not a gambit you wish to make?"

After the detour through the stalls of the marketplace, the lunch crowd has returned to their places of employment. Only a single gnome is seated at a table in the courtyard, a dog as large as he is peering eagerly over the railing at him. The door to the interior of the tavern itself stands open on the chance that a wandering hint of breeze might stray in.

"A grand hound, sir.", Gristav observes, in passing, unless replied. "Well-mannered and loyal. Speaks well of his master."

Entering the opened door just ahead of Jaelle, Gristav casually defines a space for her with the length of his staff, as he turns about in search of the sense of the place, and a server. "Grimas recommends you.", he says happily to the first such he sees. "Are we too late for a lunch?"

Lil's apartment seems unchanged from the condition Braddon left it in several hours ago. He takes his position to the side of the secret door in the northern wall, ready to act should anyone come through it.

Out in the street, Malkith approaches the front door of Weatherby's office, trying to catch a glimpse of the man behind his desk, but from what he can see through the window, the room appears empty. As he reaches the door, he can read the handwritten placard behind the panes of glass: Called away on personal business. Office closed until further notice. The door is locked.

Jaelle smiles at Gristav quizzically. "Qadira? That's the other end of the world, isn't it? You've been there?"

Malkith curses under his breath. He takes a second look through the window, taking more effort this time to see if anything appears out of the ordinary. Next he hurries around the building to where Daynadrian is waiting.

"He's gone," he calls to the elf.

Daynadrian frowns. "Well, no reason we can't go in and see what he might have left behind. Go back to the front, just in case we flush him out. We'll let you in when we get down there." He runs nimbly up the steps to the open doorway to inform Braddon. "La viziisto diras ke li estas jam irita. Certiĝu li ne estas supren, kaj ni vidos se li postlasis ion kulpigan." Dayn shuts the door behind him and nods to the half-elf to open the secret door, an arrow on his bowstring.

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

"A grand hound, sir.", Gristav observes, in passing, unless replied. "Well-mannered and loyal. Speaks well of his master."

"A remarkably intelligent animal, as well," the gnome replies, drawing himself up to his full height on the seat of his chair, in which stance he is still well shorter than Gristav. "Well met, stranger. My lady." He performs a deep bow to Jaelle which almost introduces the top of his head to the griddlecake in his plate.

Entering the opened door just ahead of Jaelle, Gristav casually defines a space for her with the length of his staff, as he turns about in search of the sense of the place, and a server. "Grimas recommends you.", he says happily to the first such he sees. "Are we too late for a lunch?"

The interior of the tavern is pleasantly dim and inviting upon stepping out of the hot afternoon sunshine. A square bar in the center of the low-ceilinged room encloses a stout and balding tender. There are tables and chairs arranged around its perimeter and then an outer ring of cozy booths against the wall offering privacy for their inhabitants; some few of these are still in use for those who have the luxury to linger over their lunches.

"Never too late until the sun's down," the barkeep responds to Gristav's hail cheerily. "My wife will be right with you. Quinta!" he shouts. "New guests! Can I offer you a drink before you're seated?" he asks politely.

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

finding himself before the door to Ladies' Attire & Necessities... a smirk beginning to form as he gathers his pomp and enters the establishment.

Ethel is given a sly wink, before Phillip addresses Betta "Milady" giving a small bow, and awaiting it to be returned before continuing.

The interior of Betta's shop is no more prepossessing than the outside. The plank floor is clean but very worn and gray with age. Dressmakers' dummies of various sizes take up much of the space in the small shop; bolts of cloth, mostly serviceable and drab, line the back wall, and a set of tall cabinets set with small drawers sits to the left, a rolling stepladder by their side, for Ethel to reach the topmost drawers, no doubt. Three mismatched mirrors are set in the far corner with a folding screen ready to provide privacy if needed; nearby is a small, shabby settee and a low table with a stack of teacups. A door practically hidden behind the rolls of cloth presumably leads to stairs to the second story.

Phil sees all this through and despite the incessant yapping of a small dog that began the moment he opened the door and stepped inside. A white spotted animal, less than a foot tall, it has large pointed ears, tiny sharp teeth, and a murderous look in its black eyes. It dances eagerly a few feet from the interloper, sending supplicating looks to its mistress to allow it to bite.

The mistress in question don't seem loath to do just that; she makes no hasty moves to call the dog off, in any case. A tall, angular woman, with gray hair styled in a manner in fashion decades ago, she frowns at Phillip's interruption. "Well, young man?" she replies to his greeting in a stentorian tone. "I believe you must surely have mistaken your way. What business could you have in a ladies' establishment?"

Ethel has not yet gotten over her surprise at seeing him and stares at Phil with a mixture of trepidation and excitement.

Malkith nods in agreement and heads back out front. He finds a comfortable spot near the front of the building where he can quickly intercept the sage, should he appear from within, and waits.

Jaelle smiles at Gristav quizzically. "Qadira? That's the other end of the world, isn't it? You've been there?"

"I think Tian Xia is the other end of the world. And I've been there. Qadira, I only know of by texts, and encounters with its people. But I was paying attention. I try to pay attention. There have been rare times, attention was all I could afford to pay. Even rarer times, when I could afford to not. Pay attention, I mean. Here, I'll prove it."

Gristav sets to unknotting the forearmed scarf, with a questioning glance at Jaelle. "With permission?", he asks, not stopping as he flaps the cloth into a broad triangle, then spins it over itself into a belt-with-triangle, "Or, further forgiveness?", he smiles, drawing the new shortened hypotenuse up along her scabbard leg, under the undrawn blade. "This should not be too snug", he instructs, "Because it's purpose is to move, to slide against itself..." Adjusting the center trine under the scimitar's mass, Gristav took the belts of fabric around Jaelle to either side, about her waist. At the close approach this required, he smiled at her. With each belt passed to the other hand, he withdrew, bringing the ends together over the triangle. "You might use a knot of your own, but I'm going to tie one of theirs. It may be less secure, but there's no real burden on the cloth, and theirs holds well, but can be pulled free quickly..."

The odd knot now tied, Gris adjusts the lay of the fabric. "The knot accounts for the narrowing of the cloth, by doubling the ends, so it's a more constant thickness for..." She was arching a brow at him. He realized, his hands were on her hips, and wondered, when he'd put them there. "Um..." {Constant thickness, indeed!}, he silently scolded himself, pointedly, reluctantly taking his hands from her. "Ww... We should go to lunch."

Gristav wrote:

"A grand hound, sir.", Gristav observes, in passing, unless replied. "Well-mannered and loyal. Speaks well of his master."

"A remarkably intelligent animal, as well," the gnome replies, drawing himself up to his full height on the seat of his chair, in which stance he is still well shorter than Gristav. "Well met, stranger. My lady." He performs a deep bow to Jaelle which almost introduces the top of his head to the griddlecake in his plate.

"I am Gristav, sir. The lady is Jaelle, to whom I owe a lunch, and an apology. And judging by previous, will owe another by the end. Only true grace, can suffer me, for long. Good to have met you...?"

Entering the opened door just ahead of Jaelle, Gristav casually defines a space for her with the length of his staff, as he turns about in search of the sense of the place, and a server. "Grimas recommends you.", he says happily to the first such he sees. "Are we too late for a lunch?"

The interior of the tavern is pleasantly dim and inviting upon stepping out of the hot afternoon sunshine. A square bar in the center of the low-ceilinged room encloses a stout and balding tender. There are tables and chairs arranged around its perimeter and then an outer ring of cozy booths against the wall offering privacy for their inhabitants; some few of these are still in use for those who have the luxury to linger over their lunches.

"Never too late until the sun's down," the barkeep responds to Gristav's hail cheerily. "My wife will be right with you. Quinta!" he shouts. "New guests! Can I offer you a drink before you're seated?" he asks politely.

"We're unhurried. Please, be unharried. The fare is to be the lady's choice, and my debt. If you've crow and humble pie, I favor it with mead.", Gristav jokes.

Daynadrian frowns. "Well, no reason we can't go in and see what he might have left behind. Go back to the front, just in case we flush him out. We'll let you in when we get down there." He runs nimbly up the steps to the open doorway to inform Braddon. "La viziisto diras ke li estas jam irita. Certiĝu li ne estas supren, kaj ni vidos se li postlasis ion kulpigan." Dayn shuts the door behind him and nods to the half-elf to open the secret door, an arrow on his bowstring.

"Hide where?" Braddon sweeps his sword about the empty room. He opens the cupboard to show Dayn inside, pokes under the bed, then finally opens the secret door. Sword first, he enters the passage and makes his way downstairs to admit Malkith.

When Braddon opens the hidden door, it is immediately evident that the attic storage has been tampered with since the party left it this morning. The boxes have been rearranged, and several have been opened, their lids leaning askew beside them, sharp ends of tacks protruding from the underside.

Dayn unleashes a litany of Elvish curses. "We should have investigated what was stored up here before he had a chance to remove it. Don't suppose there's any way to figure out what he bothered to unpack and take with him." He continues down the stairs, opens the door at their foot carefully, and takes a look around before crossing to the front door to let Malkith in. "Looks like he's taken some things from upstairs," he says quietly to the Harrower as he enters. "Have a look around and see if anything down here stands out as being missing."

Outside the Three Billed Duck, the gnome reciprocates Gristav's introduction. "Natinilinus Greatreave, at your service," he replies with dignity. "My associate, Sludge." He gestures to the dog which, despite its master's assurances of its intelligence, seems more interested in the uneaten portion of griddlecake on the table than the strangers. "Investigators. We find, and we find out. If it is your intent to dine here, may I recommend the griddlecake? It is a heady recipe, redolent of freshly mown grass with an aftertaste of raspberry and tobacco." Having delivered his recommendation, he scrambles back down into a seated position and readdresses himself to his meal, cutting off a portion of griddlecake and tossing it carelessly over the railing to the dog, which snatches the morsel out of the air expertly.

"Bravo!", Gristav lauds at the airborne alimentary addressing of the dextrous destrier dog. "Do, please, leave an address with the host. We might have business. But this-", Gristav gestures Jaelle toward the open door, "- is pleasure."

Inside the Three Billed Duck, Jaelle accepts a drink from the bartender, gives Gristav a glance, and then slides into one of the booths. Walls of dark wood divide one from another, maximizing privacy but minimizing light from the front windows; a small oil lamp on each table provides a north star, all Gristav's eyes need to see, but Jaelle turns the knob to adjust the wick and cast a broader circle of light.

The pair have barely seated themselves when a heavyset woman emerges from what must be the kitchen door. Her smooth black hair is pinned up neatly beneath a crisply starched bonnet, and she wears a spotless apron over an ample dress of blue. "Welcome to the Three Billed Duck," she smiles at Gristav. "You've not been in here before, I don't believe; I never forget a handsome face."

"She is rather fetching, isn't she?", Gristav replies, grinning, pointing out Jaelle with his eyes and posture. "And wreathed in warm light... It will be as if we had our own small fire, huddled against the howling winds, camped on some far trail, sharing a meager... (What's the special?)", he asked in an aside, of the hostess.

"Beef", came the answer.

Chuckling at the incongruity, he soldiers on, "... beef, we had managed to trap in our snares. A tiny, hapless... beef, tragically... trapped, but gratefully taken. The only choice, really. Would it be enough to sustain the travelers, against privation, against storm?"

Breathing a low storm-howl whistle, Gristav settles into the booth, giving a puzzled look and gesture to the booth's beacon. "I brought more wood for the fire.", he says, hefting his staff.

Dayn unleashes a litany of Elvish curses. "We should have investigated what was stored up here before he had a chance to remove it. Don't suppose there's any way to figure out what he bothered to unpack and take with him." He continues down the stairs, opens the door at their foot carefully, and takes a look around before crossing to the front door to let Malkith in. "Looks like he's taken some things from upstairs," he says quietly to the Harrower as he enters. "Have a look around and see if anything down here stands out as being missing."

"I thought we did check that corridor out." Braddon shrugs. "Well, he wasn't carrying anything large when he left. Probably just gold. He only had half an hour after Malkith and Gristav left. I figured in that time he wrote his little letter. And it's not like we don't know where he's going. In fact, he's probably still at the docks waiting for his ship to sail. And he may be waiting a while after that tidal wave thing. Shall we catch ourselves a boat?"

Phil sees all this through and despite the incessant yapping of a small dog that began the moment he opened the door and stepped inside. A white spotted animal, less than a foot tall, it has large pointed ears, tiny sharp teeth, and a murderous look in its black eyes. It dances eagerly a few feet from the interloper, sending supplicating looks to its mistress to allow it to bite.

The dog is noted, and Phil in a moment understands Ethel's disdain at the mutt. Not today... but perhaps another...

The mistress in question don't seem loath to do just that; she makes no hasty moves to call the dog off, in any case. A tall, angular woman, with gray hair styled in a manner in fashion decades ago, she frowns at Phillip's interruption. "Well, young man?" she replies to his greeting in a stentorian tone. "I believe you must surely have mistaken your way. What business could you have in a ladies' establishment?"

Ethel has not yet gotten over her surprise at seeing him and stares at Phil with a mixture of trepidation and excitement.

Raising an eyebrow at Betta Phillip puts a confused facade upon his face and answers "You had me concerned until the last, though confirmation gives me some hope. Though your surprise still surprises, you mean to tell me that in all your experience you've never entertained a man seeking to commission an outfit for their paramour without their knowledge or discovery?"

Shaking his head and sighing with feigned disappointment "If the prospect offends then I apologize... perhaps you might better recommend a seamstress that might accept my coin?"

"Handsome...", Gristav says to Jaelle as if repeating a joke. "Please.", he demurs, revealing a clear understanding of the hostess' praise. "I'm far from the prettiest man in Riddleport. Or, not that far. I actually could arrange an introduction.", he says brightly.

"Well, he wasn't carrying anything large when he left. Probably just gold. He only had half an hour after Malkith and Gristav left. I figured in that time he wrote his little letter. And it's not like we don't know where he's going. In fact, he's probably still at the docks waiting for his ship to sail. And he may be waiting a while after that tidal wave thing. Shall we catch ourselves a boat?"

Daynadrian's dour expression betrays that he wasn't looking forward to returning to the harbor right away after his experience of the morning. "Suppose we ought to go ask around, at least, see if he's booked passage and if the ship's left yet. Should we bring Malkith and Samaritha with us or let them stay here and see if they can uncover any clues?" He glances at the Harrower and goes on in the elven tongue. "Weatherby scias Malkith. Se li estas en la risortoj kaj vidas lin antaŭ ol ni vidos lin, li iros en kaŝejo. Kaj mi ne certas mi estas komforta prenante Samaritha en tia malglata kvartalo. Ili povis ambaŭ esti pasivaj."

As the proprietress retreats to the kitchen to have their meal prepared, Jaelle arches a brow at Gristav. "The frozen north gambit might have been more effective were it not high summer outside," she suggests, not unkindly. "You could even have suggested we huddle closely together for warmth."

Raising an eyebrow at Betta Phillip puts a confused facade upon his face and answers "You had me concerned until the last, though confirmation gives me some hope. Though your surprise still surprises, you mean to tell me that in all your experience you've never entertained a man seeking to commission an outfit for their paramour without their knowledge or discovery?"

Ethel's eyes widen as Phillip reveals his intentions, and she chokes a giggle into a demure cough as her employer's gaze turns on her. "I must admit I have not, young man," Betta answers sternly. "It has been my experience that respectable gentlewomen prefer exercising their own tastes rather than having their wardrobe dictated by any man of their acquaintance. How, pray tell, am I to cut a garment to a person whose measurements I cannot take? Or do you mean to surprise your lady-friend with a dress which doesn't fit properly?"

As the proprietress retreats to the kitchen to have their meal prepared, Jaelle arches a brow at Gristav. "The frozen north gambit might have been more effective were it not high summer outside," she suggests, not unkindly. "You could even have suggested we huddle closely together for warmth."

"I'll have to remember your leave to make such suggestion.", Gristav smiles. "But the nonsense was never intended to be taken seriously, only as a whimsy to serve with the willful deflecton of her praise toward you, to both inform her of your place in the center of my attentions and to respond to the... but I suppose it's darker here, for you... That hadn't occurred to me. Light enough to see, yes. And space enough to talk?"

"You'll ask for a name, more than I've given so far. And I'll relate how more than was given, I cannot know. How even what's given, is false as false is measured for names, but true as truth is measured for intent. I've a friend of years, he can confirm I've always been 'Gristav' to him. But who I was to she who bore me, or he who made me, I cannot say. I've had a full and proper-sounding name given me, and answered to it for a time, but it was a lie, and as unworthy as the world for which it was crafted. For which I was being crafted. I've left both behind."

"What other questions? You are owed answers. Will you gauge my threat to your ship's secret? I'll say, I am none. I'm intrigued to wear at the secret, but not to war on the ship. Others, demonstrably less restrained, promise that path will be interesting. Would you measure my sanity? I will say, as well as I might see from inside this pot, it is uncrazed. I'll grant fae folly might make a masque of madness, but wheels of wit and will remain, rolling in their rounds...", Gristav traced turns of conceptual clockworks, as he said this last.

"Perhaps you question my designs upon you. In truth, I have none, though making mandalas of mendhi, perhaps while huddling for warmth, is not an image I shall drive from my mind. But that... shore, that moment, that place, is not my current course. One cannot set a course, until one has more of a map."

Daynadrian's dour expression betrays that he wasn't looking forward to returning to the harbor right away after his experience of the morning. "Suppose we ought to go ask around, at least, see if he's booked passage and if the ship's left yet. Should we bring Malkith and Samaritha with us or let them stay here and see if they can uncover any clues?" He glances at the Harrower and goes on in the elven tongue. "Weatherby scias Malkith. Se li estas en la risortoj kaj vidas lin antaŭ ol ni vidos lin, li iros en kaŝejo. Kaj mi ne certas mi estas komforta prenante Samaritha en tia malglata kvartalo. Ili povis ambaŭ esti pasivaj."

"I hate it when they talk Varisian in front of us. Don't do it to them. I'm happy to talk Elvish at other times. I'm fluent but need the practice. Growing up in a human city I'm slightly better at the common tongue."

Ethel's eyes widen as Phillip reveals his intentions, and she chokes a giggle into a demure cough as her employer's gaze turns on her. "I must admit I have not, young man," Betta answers sternly. "It has been my experience that respectable gentlewomen prefer exercising their own tastes rather than having their wardrobe dictated by any man of their acquaintance. How, pray tell, am I to cut a garment to a person whose measurements I cannot take? Or do you mean to surprise your lady-friend with a dress which doesn't fit properly?"

Phillip looks positively taken aback at the statement, before scratching his head with consternation "Well... now that you mention it... no, I suppose the thought hadn't reached that far." looking about somewhat exasperated before having a lightbulb moment "That is distressing... I had hoped... but wait, I've just had an idea." extending a hand towards Ethel and smiling "Miss, would you mind stepping forward a little."

Looking over her with no lascivious intent and purely mechanical consideration "Come to think she looks to be about the same size as your lovely assistant. Might we not be able to use her as a form guide of some kind? I know it might not be perfect, but I think that could work."

Braddon turns to Malkith. "He says you and Sam are liabilities."

Daynadrian shoots Braddon a quick frown before turning to see Malkith's reaction, with a defensive look on his face.

Jaelle lets Gristav's flood of words flow around her like the Cloud weathering the swell in the harbor. "There's a quarter hour's worth of conversation covered in two minutes," she remarks, unperturbed. "Now that you've asked and answered all the questions I might have thought of, must we sit in silence until our lunch is done? Or should we ask to have it boxed to take it away with us?"

Who is trying to ruin Saul Vankaskerkin? Everyone in Riddleport seems to have a motive; you probably will too by the time you've known him a few days. But right now he's offering you a job and a place to stay, two things that can be hard to come by for a newcomer to the City of Cyphers, and all he asks in return is that you find out who's trying to put him out of business and keep them from succeeding.

So, what's the deal? This is a game for 1st-level characters, set in Riddleport and loosely based on the events depicted in Shadow in the Sky. The mood is noir, and the format is a mystery. While there will be combat encounters, interactions with NPCs and social skills will make up a large part of advancing the plot. This is not a game for wallflowers or for people who don't like dialogue. There's always something going on in Riddleport, but if the PCs don't get out there and interact with it, they'll never know about it. I'm looking for active players who will take the initiative to make a story happen instead of waiting for the plot to pull into their station.

Who are you, anyway? Hi, I'm Joana; I've been active in play-by-post here since March 2009, but this will be my first attempt to GM a game. I am terrified, as I have seen many excellent GMs get overwhelmed and have to walk away. As such, I am loath to overpromise and underdeliver. I am committing to run this game up to level 3 or 4. If we all have fun and none of us have a nervous breakdown, I do have ideas to continue your PCs' story past the unraveling of the mystery at hand, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

What are you looking for? I'm not interested in numbers right now; just tell me who your PC is and how and why you came to Riddleport. You could have arrived on one of the many ships that make port every day, a sailor or pirate desiring a change of occupation. Maybe you were a stowaway, an escaped slave or just someone looking for travel or adventure. You could have arrived as part of an overland caravan, buying and selling exotic or not so exotic wares. Many dwarves travel to Riddleport seeking employment at the Gas Forges, where adamantine and other rare metals can be smelted and forged: a difficult and admittedly dangerous job but one which promises a steady income and benefits for family back home. Or maybe you're just looking to work your way up the ladder of one of the city's gangs and claim a piece of the action for yourself. Other inducements to visit Riddleport include one of the most infamous non-elven temples of Calistria in Avistan and the Cypherlodge, a mage's guild devoted to studying the Cyphergate, the ancient Thassilonian artifact that spans the harbor in a great semi-circle. Please be advised that, like many people who come to Riddleport, you may not end up doing what you thought you would there.

Any specifics? Core races only. 20 point buy. No Riddleport natives: I want the whole party to have to navigate city politics and rumors on an equal footing. Core classes preferred. Lawful types probably won't like living in Riddleport. Two traits, neither of which has to be a Second Darkness campaign trait.

Anything else? I was an English major, so spelling, punctuation, and grammar all count. Heaven knows I've blushed over enough mistakes in my own posts after the editing window has closed, but I expect everyone to make an effort. We all, I believe, know that the English language uses capital letters and punctuation marks, for example.

No dialect. If your PC has a heavy accent, that's fine; mention in your first few dialogue posts how hard they are to understand, but I do not want to have to interpret phonetic spellings every time your character speaks.

Actual girl gamer here. In my experience, the number of men who can believably play a female PC is much lower than the number who think they can. I have had the pleasure of gaming with several who are up to the challenge, but please think several times before pitching a cross-gender character. If you find yourself describing a potential PC as "buxom" or "curvy" or "sensuous," ask yourself if you have any male PCs whose genitalia you feel the need to qualify in the descriptive text; if not, you don't need to be specific about the female body either. It's squicky.

No RPing amongst yourselves in this thread. I don't recruit in your gameplay thread; please don't roleplay in my recruitment thread. Posts can easily get lost in the banter, and more importantly, the PCs' meeting for the first time will be handled in-game; I don't want you all "getting to know each other" in some make-believe tavern in the recruitment thread. The tavens in the gameplay thread are all entirely nonfictional, of course. ;)

Meekly raises hand and utters "Please Ma'am, may I have some more?"

Dotting with a dot ;) - assuming you're not sick enough of me already.

Dot...

A large half-orc walks in. He has tanned leather covering his chest, but his arms and neck are covered with knotted muscles and a falchion rests at his side. He has a few gaudy rings on, and an oddly flawless face for a half-orc. he wears a large feathered hat.

"Arrg maties, I'm half-mad Captain Baccus and I'm here to seek my forture!"

Barbarian (sea reaver) who plans on going oracle then rage prophet. CN and hilarious, stirs up more trouble than he fixes

edit: I do have a pirate's accent, but most of my grammar issues will probably make you laugh rather than sound the word out

So tempting, but I'm all full up. Y'all are up for some Rough Times in Riddleport, watch your backs!

Dot.

Any other specifics other than core races and 20 point buy? Are APG, UM, and UC available for use?

Joana is an excellent player and no doubt her players are in for a treat with this one.

Would a Wizard of the Air elemental school (form APG) be ok?

Link

The concept is the character was trained as a ship's Wizard, used to speed travel times up, or slow enemy's down, put out fires, mask their presence, etc. He Paid for his Passage to Riddleport by working, lending his Spells to the Captain. He's headed to Riddleport to Study the Cyphergate, and look for possible employment.

Would a Wizard of the Air elemental school (form APG) be ok?

Link

Concept is the Character was trained as a ship's Wizard, used to speed travel times up, or slow enemy's down, etc. He Paid for his Passage to Riddleport by working to speed up the travel times. He's Headed to Riddleport to Study the Cyphergate, and look for possible employment.

Oh cool, wanna be the wizard from MY ship? lol

Sure!

Yay, characters already know each other! haha keep in mind i'm ridiculously CN, you're just as likely to get a hearty laugh as a sword in the belly from me

Interested!

This is REALLY interesting. It's been a while since I've seen a GM that forces good literature.

If you prefer core classes, I'd like to ask about your preference towards archetypes and other non-core rules such as feats, alternative racial traits, etc.

Of all the gin joints in all the world I had to walk into his...
Greetings, I am Deter Leoni. If anyone can find your culprit it's probably me. Fret not Mr Vankaskerkin your looking at a professional Private Eye.

It sounds like fun, and I'd like to run the Bard(Detective) Archetype. I know it's not technically core but the class is! If the Archetype is a no I can make it work anyway.

EDIT: Sorry I forgot to introduce me. I'm Austin and I just recently found PBP, aproximately 2(?) weeks ago. I'm an Economics major and I love a good puzzle. I love the roleplaying aspect of Pathfinder and D&D before it. That's probably what drew me to it in the first place. I loved reading fiction books and now I love playing in them. I've played a fair bit of D&D in real life, but I only started probably 4 years ago.

Of all the gin joints in all the world I had to walk into his...

Greetings, I am Deter Leoni. If anyone can find your culprit it's probably me. Fret not Mr Vankaskerkin your looking at a professional Private Eye.

It sounds like fun, and I'd like to run the Bard(Detective) Archetype. I know it's not technically core but the class is! If the Archetype is a no I can make it work anyway.

Logen raises his eyes at the newcomer. Oh boy, hope he's not looking for me. Be interesting to start this all off with a barfight

Logen leans back and lowers his hat over his eyes, hiding his face. You notice he's drinking just water

Not to be a party pooper, but:

No RPing amongst yourselves in this thread. I don't recruit in your gameplay thread; please don't roleplay in my recruitment thread. Posts can easily get lost in the banter, and more importantly, the PCs' meeting for the first time will be handled in-game; I don't want you all "getting to know each other" in some make-believe tavern in the recruitment thread. The tavens in the gameplay thread are all entirely nonfictional, of course. ;)

ooh my apologies, i'll stop

Interesting. I'll need to simmer a bit about what to offer as a potential participant.

Proper use of American English is important to me, as well. Sadly, my typing skills are really very poor. Far worse than my spelling . . ..

Hey Joana,

I don't see any mention of how long you're looking to keep the recruitment open. If we've got a couple of days, at least, I'll submit something. If not, I'll just read along. :)

Most definitely interested and will be returning with a fleshed out character concept by the end of the weekend.

Dotting for interest... I'll probably submit an elf inquisitor of Cayden Cailean.

I've been told I'm hard to read. I hope it's too much art.
I'll dot the thread, and come to speed, perhaps enough to start.

dot

Just dropping in to dot. Pay me no mind... :-)

Any other specifics other than core races and 20 point buy? Are APG, UM, and UC available for use?

If you prefer core classes, I'd like to ask about your preference towards archetypes and other non-core rules such as feats, alternative racial traits, etc.

Case-by-case basis. Most archetypes and most everything from the APG will probably be fine; same with the softcovers from the Companion and Campaign Setting lines. I'm not really thrilled with some of the switching out of racial characteristics allowed in the ARG. If there's something from another book that you feel would be an integral part of your character, run it by me, and I'll take a look at it. Otherwise, I'm happy to leave specifics until players are selected and characters being built. If I see something in a character pitch in this thread I'm not sold on, I'll let you know so you can work around it rather than just dismissing you out of hand because you want to use a feat from Flumphs of Golarion.

Thanks for the kind words, Dan and Set! Set, I've had an eye on Mordecai off and on ever since he first set foot in Riddleport; hope he makes it off Devil's Elbow in one piece.

I've been told I'm hard to read. I hope it's too much art.

I'll dot the thread, and come to speed, perhaps enough to start.

Though it's tempting, I won't actually be enforcing an all-iambic-heptameter requirement for either gameplay or recruitment. I honestly don't know if I'd be more impressed/concerned if you did that by accident or if you actually took the time to scan it out.

Oh, hey, here's another thing. Paizo and their trait system sometimes seem to disagree with me, but in my games, a 1st-level character has 0 XPs. That means you are just starting out on your adventuring career and don't have a terribly heroic backstory. Served in the village militia and took part in chasing away a small group of invading goblins, yes; single-handedly held off a savage horde of orcs, no. Part of a pirate crew that participated in taking merchant ships, yes; the leader of the raiding team famed for the number of highly-trained naval officers you have killed in solo combat, no. Fresh out of school, yes; regionally famous for your knowledge and skill, no. The beginning of the game thread is your first real chance to make your mark in the world, not an opportunity to pad an already-impressive resume.

I am in like Flynn.

Oh, hey, here's another thing. Paizo and their trait system sometimes seem to disagree with me, but in my games, a 1st-level character has 0 XPs. That means you are just starting out on your adventuring career and don't have a terribly heroic backstory. Served in the village militia and took part in chasing away a small group of invading goblins, yes; single-handedly held off a savage horde of orcs, no....

Aye aye captain. i'll just have it so right after i took over my ship i didn't get long before i started getting sick and seeing hallucinations

Dot!

At this time I have two concepts.

A small-town halfling with less than stellar morals, coming to the big city in order to ply his chosen profession in a location big enough that both he and the stolen goods can disappear . . .. Obviously the young fellow had more than one interaction with the village elders that led to them recommending he move along.

This character would be a "me-first" burglar focused on breaking and entering and avoiding conflicts (or getting caught).

A young half-elf seeking more knowledge into the arcane arts. His training to date has specialized in the Transmutation school. He has a far more cooperative approach to life, and sees his place in it as an assistant to those around him. He believes his role is to help other people do more than they could without him, not to be or have the great name himself.

I think the focus here is fairly obvious. This character will focus on providing buff spells and potentially useful information.

No, I haven't looked at mechanics for either character, yet. Nor do I have a preference for one over the other, despite the fact one was presented first. I will try not to look at either too deeply without an indication from Joana that I should.

Can I get your opinion please?

Submitted for your approval: Calon, Elven Wizard (Transmuter).

Background is on character page.

For your consideration I present Alexander Callow, two-bit alchemist fresh off the boat from Cheliax.

@Joana: I want to try and play a helpful snob. A balancing act to be sure, but I think that there are some opportunities to exploit, without being disruptive to the group as a whole.

In any regard, I want to align Tendal with Vankaskerkin to make the backstory work. Should Tendal lose money gambling to him? Or perhaps Tendal is cut off in Riddleport and needs the money to supplement his lifestyle?

Joana wrote:

Oh, hey, here's another thing. Paizo and their trait system sometimes seem to disagree with me, but in my games, a 1st-level character has 0 XPs. That means you are just starting out on your adventuring career and don't have a terribly heroic backstory. Served in the village militia and took part in chasing away a small group of invading goblins, yes; single-handedly held off a savage horde of orcs, no....

Aye aye captain. i'll just have it so right after i took over my ship i didn't get long before i started getting sick and seeing hallucinations

Just a note: I hadn't looked at any backstories when I posted that, so it wasn't directed at anyone in particular. I just know it's a point of difference in gaming philosophies and wanted to make my take on it clear from the get-go. I actually still haven't looked at any submissions with any amount of attention. Today has been particularly busy for me; I'll start to look at what's been submitted tonight and get back with you if I have any questions or feedback.

I plan to hold recruitment open at least through the weekend to let everyone have time to think it over and settle on a concept. Please remember you don't have to have a build complete; I'm far more interested in your character's personality and background and ambitions than I am his stats at this point.

Joana, I have been looking for a game like this lately as circumstances have conspired to keep me away from a live group. Will submit a character shortly, just wanted to air my interest. Will probably want to explore one of the core archetypes . :-)

I will be working on a rogue.

Just dropping in to wish you good luck Joana! :)

Thanks, oKOyA! *waves*

Have just started to look over the thread. Will get some feedback out tomorrow; I should have quite a bit more time to devote to it then than I had today.

Submission

Alright then, I've got two potential concepts. Both are former php PCs that I didn't get to play much. You'll recognize Sarien of course, and Murro was an especially short-lived PC from a module pbp. I'll be rebuilding the character mechanically from the ground up if one gets chosen.

Let me know if you have any questions or would like more information about these characters.

I submit for your approval one Isaac Palos:

He had to leave Korvosa in a hurry. It was only a matter of time before the King of Spiders realized he was not a "she" and certainly not his favorite girl's hairdresser. Anyways Korvosa was becoming such a bore anyways, everywhere he went people were up in arms about something. "Hey Isaac, ain't seen you around for awhile, is that cause you haven't paid your tab!", "Hey Isaac, you knew she was my girl didn't you, you slimy..." , "Hey Isaac, you said I was your's and that you couldn't stand to be apart from me...", "You poked me in the eye, you, you bastard!" Well it was official Korvosa just wasn't fun anymore. Now Riddleport, that's a city a with style, and a certain odor, but supposedly you get used to it. At least in a city like Riddleport you could get yourself into all kinds of fun trouble.

In his own words, "I suppose I'm what some folk would call a "cad", a lousy card player and a womanizer (though an excellent one), but that really doesn't say it all. That doesn't catch the little boy wonder, the effortless charm, and the sound understanding of arts of a martial variety. Swords, axes, bows, spears... you name it, Isaac is your man. I'm the every-man, but every man can't be me." Wink.

For anyone interested in tracking the types of submissions - I will be putting forward a Halfling Inquisitor of Calistria, with the Sin Inquisition and the Heretic archetype.

Charlton Lawrence Mathewson Chase, the bard.

Sorry if there's a mistype. I converted this from an RP character that used real-world places, dates, and activities.

Josh Shrader, Air Elemental school is approved.

Deter Leoni, Detective archetype is approved. Also, I sent you a PM with a few questions about your backstory.

I find the presentation of your campaign very interesting.

So I submit Aban's story to your perusal. I must confess that English is not my first language though.

Here it goes:

Thanks for having taken the time to read me, and have a nice day !

Given that I'm seeing Joana provide some feedback for character write-ups at this point, I think I need to quote my earlier post again.

I will try not to look at either too deeply without an indication from Joana that I should.

Yes, I am waiting direction from Joana before putting more time into either character. Please, express a preference for one of them, tell me to do both of them or watch me do neither.

Presenting Ebe, halfling sailor. Ebenadar is a tan, spry looking halfling with sunbleached shoulder-length unkempt, wavy hair and eyes as blue as the sea. His wears a worn but comfortable looking blouse belted over loose britches. The top of the blouse is unlaced and exposes much of his muscular chest.

Sorry about the dialect. I wrote this a long time ago for a Second Darkness game that fizzled after the first encounter. I'll tone it down in gameplay - I was an English major too.

Also, With Beatrix's death in our WotW game I might just drop out of it (I'm not sure I have another evil character concept to replace her) which would free me up a bit for this game.

Dorian is a an Oracle of Dark Tapestry with the wasting curse. I will update the profile with stats tonight.

Hello, I am new to pbp gaming, but recently started reading Navior's Jade Regent game. Liked Corrina and the rest of the cast of characters.

I will submit a halfling monk from Sandpoint trained by Sabyl Sorn of the House of Blue Stone.

His Story so Far:

Wexton Proudpaw is a Halfling. His life started out normal enough living with his parents on their small sheep farm amongst the other farms and steading in the hinterlands outside of Sandpoint.
Wexly as he was called by his mother and father grew up tending to his chores and hearing stories of Halfling heroes’ in their days of travel and excitement. (Little did he know that some of the stories where about his parents lives. They changed enough details to conceal the truth.)

The stories his parents told were wonderful to listen to. They often worked in lessons that Wexly could apply to his own life. His life was mostly normal and boring when compared to these stories or the news that came from Sandpoint. There seemed to be all manner of heroics and danger around the nearest town.

Sure word would come that goblin tribes were about causing trouble and packs of wolves and other predators in area often threatened the flocks, but this was all normal for living in the frontier of Varisia. His parents would lend their skills and courage to the other farmers and settlers of the hinterlands when these occurrences happen.
His mother (Dustina (Dusty) was a fine archer and his father (Mavid (Mav for short) was able to call upon Mad-hal his faithful spirit hound. To protect the flock and/or the other small tower the settlers would fall back to if the raids were serious enough in size or duration.

Wexly played often with the large hound (Maddie). Maddie often protected the young lad and helped him in his chores in training the Proudpaw’s herding dogs. In fact the Proudpaw’s became as well known for the kennels of dogs the raised, bred and trained as they did for their flocks of sheep and herds of goats.

In Wexly 10th year this life was taken from him. Ogres and giants came down into the hinterlands and ravaged many farms, settlements in the area. The Proudpaw farm along with Wexly’s parents fell to the raiding behemoths.

In the end Wexly end up at Turdork Academy and orphanage in Sandpoint, having no other family to take him in. Wexly spent four years at the Academy continuing the education his parents had started. The first year or two was a struggle for young Wexly overwhelmed with grief but in time he started to attend classes and make a new life for himself within the confines of Sandpoint.

This life was just as boring and normal as the life on the farm until that terrible day, but Wexly’s spirit was not satisfied during this time. He felt that he had no control or direction of his own he was just as helpless now as he was on the day his parents fought and died defending him and their neighbors. He was searching for some calling or purpose even though he didn’t really know it at the time.

It was on his 14th birthday that he heard a call. Sure he had seen Sabyl Sorn many times on the street and at the Academy as she often held lectures on history to all the children. He had even been to the House of Blue Stone exclusive library as Sabyl guest for winning an essay contest.

On this day (his day) he happened on Sabyl Sorn early in the morning along the beach practicing her forms as she called them. It was a warm day shortly after dawn Sabyl looked to have been swimming before. Her body was tone and fit from the years of study under father. She moved with nimble grace one second then changes her movement to ones with power enough to drop even on of the largest men in Sandpoint.

Wexly watched her that morning until she finished, clothed herself in her blue robes to start the walk back to Sandpoint.

As he watched her that day he had become curious if he could learn those forms as well and develop both the strength of body and of mind the Sabyl had. Everyone at the Academy said he was bright with a quick mind. He had won the essay competition.

He was not fat as some Halfling tend to be as often as they ate. He was small, but Sabyl was not a large woman and he had heard stories of how she stood against goblin raiders in the town some years back, and there was another woman (Mellon he thought) among the mercenaries Sheriff Hemlock had commissioned to investigate goblins stealing a bunch of local dogs. She and others drove the Licktoads from the Brinestump for said killings and even fought other creatures if the Stories from the Rusty Dragon can be believed.

Wexly approached and questioned Sabyl that day to see if she would take him on as her apprentice. Sabyl was surprised at this request. She took time consider young Wexly’s request and to assess his purpose and commitment to learning.

His answer was not a thoughtful as it could have been, but it was honest he wanted to become stronger in body and in mind in order to make his own way in the world to not be as helpless as he was today. He added at the end he wanted to be able to help those around him like his parents tried to do years ago.

Sabyl took the young man on as her pupil and she would teach him the forms and teach him of Irori. At first Wexly was an able student taking to the physical training with great passion. He even applied himself to the books and scrolls Sabyl would have him read as her father had her read. Overtime Wexly was much more dedicated to the physical training than the mental drills.

On his 18th birthday Sabyl told Wexly he had spent enough time with her and he must journey beyond Sandpoint to continue his own journey. He must experience life as part of his search for purpose and to acquire greater skill and knowledge. Sabyl left the choice where he would go, but she told he must leave upon the full moon.

Wexly was surprised at Sabyl’s pronouncement, he was uncertain about leaving and excited about the prospect of a trip all at once, but where to go Maginmar, Korvosa, Kaer Maega or Riddleport. Wexly went walking that evening through Sandpoint to consider his options and faith or luck or something stepped in. He was amongst the docks and a ship from Riddleport had recently docked. Not pirates mind you, but certainly a rough and rowdy crew, but they had obeyed the Sheriff and his deputies.

Plus they had cargo that was welcome in Sandpoint and bought cargo and supplies from the town’s merchants.

He was standing looking at their ship brow ornament was a likeness of a snarling hound that strongly resembled Maddie from his youth.

Wexly walked along the dock to the stern of the vessel and found its name was the Seawolf. He took this as a sign he should go to Riddleport to start his journey. He will seek to sign on with the crew of the Seawolf as it is said they will return to Riddleport once they depart Sandpoint.

Lugo Torx is a bit strange for a wizard. He hates being all cramped up in a tower. He prefers to feel the open air in his lungs, and the spray of salt on his face. Lugo's Father was a "trader" operating out of Magnimar. He was a charming man, so charming in fact he claimed he once wooed a Nymph in a local tavern for a night, And that’s how he got his Son, Lugo. Now, those stories are hardly true, for Lugo is a Human child. While not quite as sturdy of frame, but he is defiantly quick of wit.

When Lugo came of age, his Father left him at the local Wizard school in Magnimar, with the Promise " I’ll be back in a year or two to get you, I've got a big job in Riddleport, will be my last one as a deckhand. After that, we'll own our own ship! And with your help, we'll run the waves till the end of our days...”

That was 2 years ago today, and Lugo has not heard from his Father at all. Now that he has graduated from an Apprentice to a full-fledged wizardling, he booked passage to Riddleport to search for his Father...

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