@Evelyn: I guess my question was more focused towards what use a military organization has for a 9-year-old. Was it just nepotism that got her in and gave her a chance to train?
I pictured it as similar to the page, squire, knight set up. That way her first few years was most training/education, and doing manual labor jobs until she was able to handle the combat outings. As far as why she was pay goes the closet thing I find to the way I'm picturing it is tuition reimbursement, so they pay and teach her so in return she works for them for x amount of years.
Nepotism would be the only reason she got in, at least to start, but she was allowed to stay on merit.
I just got into another game, so I shall not continue with this application.
Darn and I liked the characters background too..
@Evelyn: I guess my question was more focused towards what use a military organization has for a 9-year-old. Was it just nepotism that got her in and gave her a chance to train?I pictured it as similar to the page, squire, knight set up. That way her first few years was most training/education, and doing manual labor jobs until she was able to handle the combat outings. As far as why she was pay goes the closet thing I find to the way I'm picturing it is tuition reimbursement, so they pay and teach her so in return she works for them for x amount of years.
Nepotism would be the only reason she got in, at least to start, but she was allowed to stay on merit.
To Evelyn's credit, 9 would be about the age most boys would legitimately start training as pages, probably under the tutelage of a distant relative like an uncle or something. Seriously. They'd spend mornings cleaning weapons and armor, midday practicing with wooden swords and charging on wheeled horses, and afternoons with more general educations. Not even kidding.
Also, I finished my personality and spellbook! I should be ready to roll, so go ahead and toss my name on that Completed list!
@Knon Shex - Knon looks good! You're right, it's not often that you see a PC with a family already. That allows me to add a lot of drama as DM, I like it.
How old is Knon? What does he think of his tactician abilities?
Knon is 18, which for a human would be about 32 or so. His wife Nubbles is two years younger than him, and his child Fef is about 10 months old.
Knon sees his Tactician abilities as an oddity in his life, as it is an ounce of the supernatural outside his mostly mundane life. Knon treats it mostly as a tool, something he can work with to improve his life, rather than an instrument to improve upon. Knon has a few conclusions as to why he is psionic, from being a blessing of Abadar to simply a magical anomaly, but none of such events are provable, and all seem plently unlikely.
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Mackeson is sworn to stamp out perceived and literal enslavement. He believes in personal freedom, but he also believes that people are responsible for their own actions. He looks kindly upon those Caydenites who espouse the more diplomatic aspects of his deity, but realises that his skills do not lie there.
He will sacrifice himself to help those whom he has bonds with and will take care of those who are helpless and needy. He loathes injustice and tyranny, and will see these opposed and toppled as he can, though he is somewhat realistic with respect to his influence at this point.
He enjoys Cayden's somewhat casual and relaxed demeanour amongst the pantheon of the gods. He strives to emulate this, but sometimes lets his natural dwarven gruffness and the weight of all of the burdens he carries pull him into grumpy-town. Still, he strives to be light-hearted for those who need brightness in their lives, and feels that this is a role for him to play.
CODE:
- Freedom is a universal right that no one may trod upon. I will protect it.
- Enslavement comes in internal and external forms; I will fight where I may, but sometimes the true fight needs to come from within. In these cases, I will inspire and teach.
- For those who have shown me love, I will never forget that kindness. I will protect them with my life.
- I am a cog in a glorious wheel. I need others to see me through, as they need me.
- At the end of the day, a warm drink and a friendly conversation is worth more than gold and silver.
- Tyrants and slavers must see the error of their ways to their end, or the end of their ways.
- The light is just around the corner. I will walk with you to that corner.
Katarina Doliu now has a profile page. I settled on a heritage for the tiefling ancestry, and swapped over to the alternate bloodline (though I've no problem swapping back if pass-for-human + alternate ancestry doesn't make much sense to you, it comes up pretty even on my side, statistically).
Somewhere in the Doliu's past, directly in Katarina's lineage, a Daemon fed on her ancestor's soul. The Daemon was slain and the family member rescued, but gaps were still left in the family line. Occasionally, these gaps have manifested in the form of pass-for-human tieflings. There's no actual blood there, but the resulting child's soul isn't complete, leaving them susceptible to ebbs and flows of emotion.
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Ah, Ratfolk and their very short lives, this is another area if study that Kipply is likely to be interested in: the extension of ones' life.
Now, Is there anything else I need to work on? I do believe I'm all set mechanically.
If I where to describe my role in combat: I'm a debuffer/harrower. I hit the enemy and negative effects x-z effect them.
Outside of combat I'm the skill user(or at least the backup) and backup healer. I plan on taking mostly debuffing abilities, or abilites that allow me to act more efficiently. I'm probably gonna take the oragan preservation chain of Discoveries and become a living mummy, which will likely take up my lvl 4 and 10 discoveries, other than that, my discoveries will likely include Vestigial limbs and wings.
However if the party needs it I can take the Spontaneous healing and healing touch discoveries.
Somewhat related: my main issue was my Discovery. As far as combat, I ultimately wanted to be control and damage in the form of bombing and alchemical items but Infusion felt like such a Discovery tax because being able to buff allies with extracts feels like such a necessity. Ah well, I can still more-or-less fulfill that desired combat role without bombs until level 4.
Out of combat, I'm [backup] party face and party nerd. That's probably what I'm most excited about when it comes to role with this character.
@Finnick Deacon - A very well-developed character, I think. It seems that they've acquired their powers in the same way that a cleric would, is that right?
Can you, in a sentence or three, describe Finnick's personality?
I built like three characters before settling on this one. Two were Spheres of Power because its a lovely system and I feel you dont often get to see it used in games. I settled on this one because the mechanics made the most sense with the character whose story I wanted to tell more of. I didn't want to go with Cleric directly because I liked the idea of the Triple Goddesses focus on Fate in addition to just life and death. I intend to have him be very faithful though, despite getting full CL in Death Sphere he wont take/make use of any talents that allow him to raise the dead for instance. Although I wish there was some kind of Speak With the Dead feature for Death since I feel like the Spiritualist Hedgewitch would work really interestingly with that.
Personality Blurb: Finnick is someone who has lived a hard life and is thus jaded beyond his rather young years. He tries to view things as impartially as possible, letting fate guide him, but that is not always easy and he struggles with it at times. I think he's someone who finds joy in simple things done well, setting a broken arm cleanly or preparing a simple but filling stew, life leads you through countless small moments and he seeks to find joy in them.
Am I the only one utilizing Path of War so far?
Hi again, here are the answers to your follow up questions!
So, Luca is a vigilante hero? Does he have any particular brand of crime that he focuses specifically on?
As an extremely naive vigilante hero, Luca is currently making it up as he goes along. He sees a guy's life messed up by drugs? He's gonna go and take those drug dealers down. I am hoping that with experience will come a more nuanced view of what makes a difference in people's lives.
How did he learn magic?
He studied under a variety of tutors across Golarion, which is the major contributor to his unstable, but sometimes miraculous magic as he pulls something out of his butt even he didn't know was possible.
How would he introduce himself to a stranger?
As Luca: Luca is charismatic and flirtatious individual. Always ready with a smile and a wink, Luca will laugh and be friendly with anyone he meets.
As Teo: Teo is a quiet but confident individual. When introducing himself to a stranger he would be no-nonsense, only giving away what he must.
As Luc: Luc would not introduce himself to a stranger, as this is the persona he is in only when he is at his most relaxed, around trusted friends.
What excites you the most about your character?
The exploration of the growth of this character from someone who is quite naive (if well educated) about how to actually make a difference in the lives of people into a true force for good and champion of the people. Also I am excited to play the Troubadour class as I feel like it brings a lot to the table.
Kat is also using path of war as a Hawkbinger. :)
Intimidating to dot interest this late into the thread, but I feel up for a challenge. Going to see what I can whip together, always been interested in this AP but the stars were never right to jump onto it.
Colt R. Warwick, Katarina Doliu, Knon Shex, Finnick Deacon, and Luca Tismaneau can consider themselves finished. That brings us up to 18 finished applications, which is crazy!
It's looking like I'll have to pare down to a short-list for further consideration when recruitment closes. There's a lot of good hooks here in this party. I'm impressed!
I think there's still 4 people who dotted in but haven't submitted anything. You guys have 5 more days to finish up!
Kat is also using path of war as a Hawkbinger. :)
Dang, that sounds like a nasty habit! One hawk is too many, two is not enough...
Still, they say the first step is admitting you have a problem :p
Added a few more details to round out Gus's personality a bit more.
Is Arden also in the completed category?
Yes to Arden and Mackeson. I'm sorry, I just missed you. My concentration wasn't the best earlier today.
Consider me dotted. I just saw this last night, I'll try to come up with something quick.
Anguela Noctis (LN human oracle/sorcerer (cross-blooded)) ; [eriktd]
Atticus deGrey (LN human zealot) ; [Johnnycat93]
Portia Cillanthis (CN/CG human stalker vigilante) ; [Kiora Atua]
Agiz (N ratfolk rogue/transmuter wizard) ; [pauljathome]
Kragmaw Gutsticker (CG half-orc staff magus) ; [Wandering Wastrel]
Kipply Nettles (N ratfolk alchemist) [william Nightmoon]
Xantrian Carver (CG human inquisitor of Calistria) [Kyle Smith 700]
Nicolai Fortescu (CG human diviner wizard) [Vanulf Wulfson]
Darius Filipes (LN human paladin (vindictive bastard)/investigator (empiricist)) [A. Drallidur]
Alistair Wellington (CG human swashbuckler (inspired blade)) [Jovich]
Darius Goldwin (LN human mesmerist) [Kamenhero]
Evelyn Lyon (LG human warder (zweihander)) [Pathfinder Zoey]
Colt R. Warwick (NG human magus (soul forger)) [CaptainFord]
Katarina Doliu (N human harbinger/warder (hawkguard)) [Hotaru of the Society]
Knon Shex (LG ratfolk tactician) [Knon Shex]
Finnick Deacon (LN human hedgewitch (triple goddess)) [TheUnthinker]
Luca Tismaneau (CG human troubadour) [Aipaca]
Mackeson Slatethorne (CG dwarf warpriest of Cayden Cailean) [dinketry]
Arden Coralesian (LG human psion) [King of the Goblins]
Dropping in with another roster. Damn, looks like it's 20 completed characters. I've got my work cut out for me sorting through all you guys.
As long as I'm here and nobody else is posting, I have a task for everyone that's finished!
I'd like each of you to pick at least two other finished submissions and write up a relationship between your character and that other character. This could be a relationship that already exists prior to the game, or it could be a description of what your character might think of the other character after the two meet, and what kind of relationship they might have.
Could be positive or negative. I'm looking to see what you think about how your character interacts with others.
Selections come Saturday, so be ready!
Interesting - do you want us to work with the other 2 (or more) that we pick to create something mutual, or just go ahead and write something?
Either works fine! It's all up to you.
I suppose I assume that you will just go ahead and write something, since that is easier and faster and more convenient than waiting for another person to respond to the boards.
Aiming to have a Dawnflower Dervish Bard slipped into consideration on time.
Anyone want to link backstories?
Excuse me for previous lack of clarity, but I want to add:
I want you to write at least one (out of two) without collaborating (if not more). This is because the goal is to see what you, as a solo player, think about how your character would interact with others.
Of course, I don't want to discourage you from interacting with one another and making up relationships together (after all, D&D is a collaborative experience) but I want to see what you think all by yourself in addition.
I am hesitant to write material concerning another persons character without first consulting them. Writing in a vacuum is all well and good but bringing another PC into it changes things. I know I'd want someone to at least let me know if they were going to be writing information about myself, especially at this stage.
*Wanders off to get to work.*
Her family's contacts in Korvosa had hired him to help smooth their passage into the city. Staring at him as they traveled, it was hard for Anguela to believe that he was much more than he seemed. But he was an ally of sorts, and so she made an effort to make friends. His gruff demeanor put her off somewhat, but she valiantly rose above it and was pleased to discover that he could be quite a good storyteller when he was willing to talk.
On the fourth day of rain, petulantly and somewhat masochistically, she struck up a conversation with Darius about the rule of law, specifically as it applied to the royal succession. She expected the haggard mercenary to say something like "What does it matter who is in charge, as long as I get paid?" but she was pleasantly surprised when he began to speak passionately about his belief in the system. She realized that night that she respected him, and had begun to actually enjoy his company.
Their interactions were cut short when they neared their destination, as they had to ensure Anguela got inside Korvosa without being seen, and so they hid her nailed up inside the cart. She briefly thought that she was sorry she and Darius would not be able to converse any more, and she wished him well in her future endeavors. Someone to keep an eye on, she thought. A good man.
I like that idea! I too will roll to see who I get (but I'll reroll any duplicates).
Atticus deGray and Alistair Wllington. On it.
That is a great way of doing it
Ok, let's get to it.
I'm still thinking about who to do a second one with, but for now here's the time Darius met Knon. Knon, I'm kind of including a detail that isn't specified in your character, so feel free to correct me if it doesn't fit your idea.
Darius crossed the courtyard to one of the seats around the long, heavily-laden tables. He took a seat at one end of the bench, leaning his walking stick up against the edge of the table. "Good evening." He blinked as another man hopped up onto the bench beside him. A rather short man, covered in fur. Darius frowned slightly. The ratfolk looked vaguely familiar, and he hated to forget a face. "Good evening," he replied evenly, his voice a little distant. "Darius Goldwin." He offered a hand, which the ratfolk shook. "Knon Shex, a pleasure to meet you my good sir."
Something clicked in Darius's mind. "Ah, I remember now. I knew your father when you were knee high and still squeaked when you talked." He absently straightened his jacket. "You knew grandpa?" Darius blinked and looked past the ratman to see another, much smaller ratfolk and a female that could only be his wife. Darius fought down his normal reflex to scowl at everyone. The child hardly deserved that for curiosity. "Indeed. My master was an investor of his many years ago. Good man. Lucky man, for that matter. Haven't seen much of him in ages." Very lucky. Not many people who tried to move up in the world made it very far. "It was good to see someone making something of themself. The world could use ten more hard workers like your grandfather." The young boy stared at him with just a hint of wonder. "Wow! You must be old!" Knon chuckled and quickly offered a muttered apology, but Darius just waved it off. "I know I'm ancient. Anyone who's old enough to wake up with creaking bones should at least have the guts to admit it. Don't apologize for telling the truth."
Finally, Anguela felt she had no choice but to ask to see the commander. "I cannot work with this guardsman," she told Field Marshal Kroft. Encouraged to elaborate why, Anguela felt irritated and pinched her nose to quell a growing headache. "We're just not a good fit," she complained. But after conferring privately with Atticus, the commander encouraged her to try harder, and rejected her plea.
She began to suspect collusion, and questioned her partner intensely on his relationship with Kroft while on their rounds. She found him exceedingly reticent in his answers, which heightened her paranoia and drove her into fits of frustrated sputtering. And somehow he tolerated all of this abuse, remained beside her as they patrolled, and never once showed anger or resentment.
Anguela began to envy the man. How did he do it? What inner peace had he discovered that made it possible to endure her acrid clouds of ire every day? She felt beaten down by his resistance. What's the point? she thought. Slowly, she began to give ground, to let up and simply serve together. She was beaten. She felt beaten.
When the two of them got into a scrap with a pair of criminals that they caught red-handed, Anguela was pleasantly surprised to see how good Atticus was in a fight. He superimposed himself between her and their enemies, taking a blow in stride that would have easily felled her. She still didn't like him, but she had to grudgingly admit that she liked fighting beside him. It could be worse, she thought.
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Ah, the 2d20 idea is a great one, kudos to @Hotaru, but unfortunately I'd already started on the two below. Apologies upfront if this isn't in keeping with your characters - I'm quite happy to scrub or adjust as requested.
As Arden has been a resident of Korvosa for around a decade, he has formed relationships (of degrees ranging from the 'I saw you once', to casual acquaintances, to friendship) with a number of people, despite his social awkwardness. These are some of those relationships...
Arden never used to care for those that call themselves 'vigilantes' - acting beyond the righteous authority of the law and dispensing justice as they saw fit. Hiding behind masks was something that footpads and robbers did, a categorization that he felt suited vigilantes only too well.
As if to underline his views, he was working late one spring evening, hurrying to get an architectural model finished in his office on the second floor of the orphanage. His stalled roof repairs had created quite a draft. That'll teach me for ordering the parts from that smooth talking halfling, he reflected. Despite his haste, he was still careful and methodical, as was his way. And this was quite the piece. He'd spent almost twenty hours on this particular work, re-creating the estate of Lord Viskforth in painstaking detail. The mathematically correct dimensions, the curved dome of the hallway, the Lord and Lady themselves, on the balcony overlooking the city. A veritable masterpiece, he proudly thought to himself.
Pausing to add a couple of logs to the fire and stretch his arms, he cocked his head to listen to the sounds of some guards in the adjoining street, shouting and cursing. Is that really necessary at this time of night?, he pondered. Then he heard someone softly land upon the roof, right above his head. They were stealthy, no doubt, for if he hadn't been right underneath them at that moment he wouldn't have heard them. Intrigued, he followed each of their steps as they quickly moved from one side of the building, next to the other and then along toward the far end... where the gap was because he was waiting for the replacement rafters. ...and in the darkness outside they won't see the oiled tarpaulin I stretched across the gap in the roof, he concluded, as a cold shiver raced up his spine.
His eyes snapped up as, almost on cue, a dark figure came crashing through the ceiling, wrapped protectively in the oiled tarpaulin as their fall was broken, first by his model, and then by the table upon that supported it - the four legs each shooting off in separate directions.
Gah!, he choked, his mouth trying to spit out surprise, exasperation and a dwarven expletive at the same time, and then was overcome with a short coughing fit. By the time he stood up straight again, the figure - the woman, was on her feet, initially appearing somewhat sheepish, but then adopting a defensive stance. White tuxedo. Grey gloves. A hooded grey cloak. WTF?, he noted, before his rising anger took control of his actions. How dare you!, he squealed, his voice hitting an unmanly octave - as it was prone to do around the opposite gender, My roof, my table, my model! You common vandal!.
He balled up his fists in anger, to which the woman's pose subtly shifted to one of disdain. I... was all he was able to say before the woman snapped a rapier from a sheath and had it under his chin, almost encouraging him to try and dare utter another syllable. With an awkward, almost pained look on his face: part shock, part fear, part humiliation, he reflexively teleported away from her, getting some much-needed space between them. It also afforded him time to take a deep breath, and her momentary surprise allowed him to raise his hands protectively and wreath them in light, ready to defend himself, it needs be.
Goodness, she's quick., he thought, Just stop and think. She has a rapier and appears to know how to use it. You're still holding a log for the fire, you prat. As the adrenaline ebbed, he spoke more calmly, I apologize, that was not particularly gentlemanly of me, however I must ask you to leave these premises. She nodded once, and elegantly pounced out through the window, glass spraying everywhere. His jaw dropped, My window! he wailed. But no one was listening.
Surveying the damage of his model, he came across a small, strangely stamped silver coin that the woman had dropped. Thinking it rather curious, he pocketed it and went downstairs to release some his frustrations in complaining to Griselda, the half orc matron of the orphanage. But she would have none of it. After hearing that he had been visited by the Silver Ghost she impressed upon him how much that Silver Cloaked Crusader has done for the poor of the city. Red-faced and embarrassed by his actions, he resolved to apologise. This woman was someone that he should be helping.
Since then, Arden started to collect notes upon the vigilante, initially so that he might use his reasoning to perhaps locate her and tender a formal apology. Perhaps even offer any assistance he might be able to give to such an exciting character. Though what could he offer someone like that? Somewhere to hide perhaps? Supplying them with some of the local rumors that the street kids passed his way? Why on Golarion did he treat her like that? Fool. As the note collecting became more organised, he developed a passion for it, enquiring about sightings of the Silver Ghost, even gazing out over the city at night on occasion, giving a wistful sigh and shaking his head sadly.
Perhaps on the face of it, Mackeson and Arden shouldn't give each other the time of day. One being a human intellectual with little idea of how to enjoy himself, the other being a dwarven adherent to the god of hedonism. One being an armor clad asskicker, wielding a kukri with deadly purpose, the other being a serious bookworm with a certain reluctance to answer the door when danger comes knocking.
But bad times can make for strange bedfellows.
When several of the youngsters at the orphanage came down with a sickness, it didn't take long for one of them to utter the word of the narcotic they'd used, begging for more. It was apparent that many of the priests Arden knew simply couldn't help, addiction being a problem of the mundane, despite its devastating consequences.
Eventually, Mackeson's name was mentioned, and Arden sought him out. On first appearances, Arden nearly walked away from the unkempt dwarf, lying in an alleyway, but he reminded himself that people needed help so every avenue had to be tried. He sat down beside the dwarf and told him the problem. To his credit, Mackeson wasted no time. When he heard that the children had a problem with this new narcotic he stood up purposefully and marched to the orphanage, requiring Arden to jog, just to keep up.
Mackeson examined the children, slight, shivering and sweaty, it was clear each was suffering, but he knew what needed to be done. Speaking to Griselda, the half orc matron of the orphanage, and drowning out Arden's protestations with his deep voice, he arranged for the three affected children to be locked in a room for them to get over the symptoms, nodding appreciatively at the half-orc's no-nonsense manner.
Then he turned on Arden, This is bad stuff, a nasty drug, so you need to be more vigilant if you're going to run an orphanage in this neighborhood!, jabbing his finger into Arden's gut in time with each word. So you and I are going to find where this stuff is being made and shut them down. And don't think I don't know that you're more capable than you seem, last time you used your mind trickery on some of Hirt the Weasel's men you were seen.
Arden nodded, at first apprehensively, but then with real conviction. Utilising Arden's contacts and Mackeson's uncanny ability to smell a lie, they soon found the drug was being manufactured out of an old boat, the Singing Narwhal, moored along the river. Despite Arden's protests that the Korvosan Guard should be involved, Mackeson was dismissive, pointing out that any single guard on the take could give the game away. It had to be them, and them alone. Having had his initial views on Vigilantism torn up by The Silver Ghost, Arden agreed.
They attacked at night, falling upon the miscreants with blade and flame. And a lot of shouting in dwarven. The few men that were on the boat were surprised and scattered as bolts of fire and bolts of crossbow whisked past them. Fearing that they were outnumbered, the men fled - most leaping into the river - leaving Mackeson and Arden alone. They nodded at each other once, before lighting the boat up and making good their escape.
Back at the orphanage, they found that the addicted children were shaking off the symptoms and looking far healthier. Mackeson gave them each a stern talking to about the foolishness of their actions, before nodding gruffly and demanding that Arden accompany him for a celebratory drink (or two) in honor of his god.
Since then, Mackeson and Arden have maintained a firm friendship, both having a solid, dwarven upbringing, both wanting to clean up Old Korvosa and both abhorring slavery. Mackeson sometimes attends the orphanage to warn the children of the dangers of the streets (and flirt with the matron, Arden suspects), and sometimes when he needs somewhere to stay.
Portia is aware that there is a group of ratfolk thieves in her city. She's heard rumor they're lead by some sort of were-rat freak, and that they have been behind a number of robberies in recent years. Some of the merchants they hit were stores that her family had invested in.
She knows sometimes their robberies turn into violence.
That just wouldn't do. Not in her city.
Last time they hit Anis' Wondrous Oddities when Anis was away visiting family. Any good thief knows that the time to hit was when the owner was gone, after all, most merchants lived in their shops on the upper floors. They hit the empty building, picked his store clean of everything worth taking. Bankrupted the poor merchant. Her parents were mostly upset that they lost their investment, but Portia worried about the man. His wife. His three kids.
So three months later, she learns that Mirondir, who owns an Emporium a few blocks away, was taking a similar trip, to attend a wedding in Magnimar. The whole week he was gone she stakes the place out, as her alter-ego, The Silver Ghost. And just on cue, on day three, she spots the gang scoping the place out. On day four, they make their move, breaking in through the staff entrance. Portia creeps in behind them while they are busy scavenging through the place.
Portia doesn't see their leader with them - disappointing, really. She takes them by surprise, and in the chaos, manages to knock one of the ratfolk out with her sap, and driving the others to scatter into the wind. She ties him up, delivers him to the guard. He knows the gang member she caught was, himself, just a kid. But she sleeps well that night (or that morning, really), feeling like she made a difference for the people in this city. One less criminal on the streets.
But she doesn't know that that kid's story. How could she know?
The crippling poverty he suffered growing up in the gutters beneath the city. The discrimination he suffers everyday, just for being born different. The inability to even do anything about it, due to his lack of a proper education. Portia can't conceive of that kind of life. To her, he was just another criminal.
The next day she heads into the city to do a bit of light shopping - maybe stock up on some alchemical tools for her evening duties. She heads into Marvelous Miscellany. She spends some time rummaging the shelves, before settling on a lovely silver hairpin in the shape of a lily. Handcrafted by a Shelynite, no doubt. It's pretty, and Portia can afford to buy pretty things on a whim.
Gold exchanges hands, and she smiles sweetly at the ratfolk, Agiz, behind the counter. His shape doesn't bother her. Portia isn't racist. Their interaction is fleeting, transactional.
Agiz doesn't know the pretty noblewoman across the counter is the very vigilante who turned in his cousin's son to the Guard last night. How could he know?
In passing, Portia comments, "Careful locking your shop up at night. I've heard tell of a rise in burglaries."
Portia doesn't know the ratfolk merchant wrapping her purchase up in soft cloth for her was once a member of the very gang she hopes to put away for good. How could she know?
Agiz chuckles. "Thank you for the advice, miss. But I've been fine, so far."
They don't know that, very soon, they will cross paths once again. And that crossing will change both of them, forever.
How could they?
Looks like Darius will be interacting with Ariana Sibylla and Mackeson Slatethorne! Will update when I've had a chance to write something up.
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I just realized that not doing Darius and Darius is such a waste. Here's the time that Darius met Darius while Darius was following a lead and ended up at Darius's shop.
The man grunted and looked over one of the shelves, fingering a ring on display for a moment before he walked up to the counter. "Do you know a Meredith Roth?" Darius's eyes narrowed and he locked eyes with the other man. "That would depend on who's asking." The two simply stared at each other for a few moments, testing each other's resolve. The gruff man finally shrugged and pulled a folded scrap of paper from his pocket. "Name's Filipes. Roth turned up last week face down in an alley. The guard needed some help tracking down the bastard responsible." Darius snatched the paper and unfolded it, revealing a note promising 'payment for information of on the death of Meredith Roth or capture of her killer'. The pawnbroker's shoulders sagged and he sighed, feeling like a great weight had landed on his shoulders. "Damnation." He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "She traded in a ring for coin just last week. Said she owed someone. I'll pull the record."
8 is... so close to Kipply I feel like it would be a crime not to do him. No offense to Xantrian, its just that we ratfolk have to stick together.
So Kipply and Mackeson, then. Need to do some reading and some writing,
Hello Agiz and Nicolai!
"...you hear about that guard who survived the lost patrol? Her brother's corpse showed up on her doorstep, carved up and..."
Xantrian frowned. He had no love for the guard, not anymore, but this sounded bad. He knew of the girl, Katarina Doliu. She'd shown little aptitude for the weapons he made, but her skill with the bow had been the talk of the guard. And her brother, Captain Piotr...he had been a great swordsman, and a decent fellow to boot. One of the good ones. Xantrian had already thought of looking into the ambush when he'd heard about it a few days ago, but they were just guards, after all. They probably deserved it. But now this leaving the corpse on Katarina's doorstep...this was more than just an attack on a guard patrol. This seemed personal somehow.
Later that night, Xantrian watched from the shadows, his eye on Katarina's home, looking for those who might be paying a little too much attention to the house. Once night fell, and no one seemed problematic, he walked to the door and knocked. Katarina answered.
"Katarina," he said by way of a greeting.
She looked at him and said nothing. Whether she recognized him or not, it was hard to say.
"Don't trust what the guard's leadership tells you about Piotr. They may have leads, they may not, but do not count on them revealing such to you. I suggest you find out more, whatever the means. I'll keep an eye out for more information as well. If you find something and want help exacting revenge, you can contact me at The Gilded Prawn." He grimaced as he said the name, as he always did. Such a ridiculous name for a restaurant. Without another word, Xantrian turned and walked away.
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I'm actually out of town until Sunday, so my input will be short. But I'll try to get something up!
...hopefully!
EDIT: You know what? The dice may be my guide in the game, but not before it! I'm gonna show some love to the folks on the extreme ends of the list!
Ariana and Arden! And that's MY choice!
Xantrian looked around the rest of the shop, and seeing it empty, closed the door and locked it. "You know why I come here, Darius. You may run a pawn shop, but I've never met another so well-connected to the mutterings of the underworld." The two clasped hands, and Xantrian's face broke into a rare smile.
"Business it is, then."
Xantrian nodded. "Aye. First..."
Darius sighed. "I know, Gaedren Lamm. Same question every time, Xantrian. No, I don't have anymore information on him than I've already told you."
A nod, a sigh. Xantrian didn't really expect anything else. "Next, then. Little boy by the name of Jory Ives. He's a street rat, barely getting by. I'd give him a few scraps of leftover food from time to time, when he'd let me. Odd thing was, he always had a set of finely-carved wooden pipes. He couldn't play them worth two pennies, but they were his most treasured possession. I saw him just this morning, eyes blackened, roughed up, and pipes missing. Wouldn't say anything about what happened."
Darius tapped a finger against his lip a few times, then reached under the counter, pulling out a set of wooden pipes, his raised eyebrow a question.
Xantrian nodded. "That's them. Who sold them to you?"
"I didn't get his name. Probably a teenager, maybe just out of his teens. Broad, not too intelligent looking." After giving a detailed description, Darius hands the pipes over to Xantrian. "You'll return them to Jory?"
A nod, a grim smile. "Thank you, Darius. I'll try to get the money out of that bastard and return it to you."
I'd say the behavior is about right, though Darius would probably be a little gruffer. Helping a street kid get his stolen goods back is definitely in character, but he'd try to pretend not to be happy about it at least a little.
A brief rash of violent crimes left many noble houses nervous and on edge, despite the fact that the crimes generally involved citizens in the working class neighborhoods late at night, rather than having anything to do with the wealthy. Though the perpetrator was eventually caught, this meant that for some time, Portia had to suffer some additional barriers between herself and her double life.
Her parents decided to hire some members of the town guard to protect her while she attended a party being hosted by the son of the Cucuteni family. That way she didn't have to walk home alone, late at night. Portia actually hadn't intended to attend said party, but now that she was saddled with three bodyguards, she had no other choice.
But she had a plan. After spending two hours getting her hair and make-up ready, she emerged from her family's manor dressed in long, form-fitting blue skirt, with a slit that reached up to her mid-thigh. A white blouse, with just enough cleavage to titillate, but not enough to make her seem to unrefined, like some dancer harlot. Tall, stiletto heels, that made her a good four inches taller than she is naturally.
She barely acknowledged her entourage for the evening. Mary. Alin. Katarina. To make this plan work she had to maintain the right airs - and that meant pretending such people were beneath her. A shame, because she otherwise would have loved to strike up a conversation with them. They likely had some very interesting stories, and she truthfully admired those who decided to devote their lives to protecting others. She felt they had that in common.
And so Katarina was stuck with the job of babysitting a stuck-up noble who would barely speak to her, and stood in the corner of some lavish estate watching a group of young, rich, adults drinking, eating, drinking, dancing and drinking some more late into the evening. She watched as Portia started focusing her attentions on a young dark-skinned man of the Arkona family. She had been flirting with him heavily throughout the evening, and he seemed to be enjoying the attention. They sat together on a fainting couch, one of her legs draped over his.
Katarina yawns. She wasn't sure if the extra pay was even worth it at this point. She became a guard to do good, to follow in her brother's footsteps. Not to babysit some spoiled noble. But then, something catches her eye. When the others weren't looking, she catches Portia surreptitiously pouring her champagne into a nearby potted plant, rather than drinking a single sip. Odd. She was certainly behaving like someone completely drunk. But it really wasn't any of her business, so she doesn't comment on it.
A few hours later and suddenly Katarina realizes that Portia isn't there at all. She scans the room, and notices the Arkona boy wasn't there, either. Ugh. What had happened was obvious, but that didn't make it feel any better. And to make it worse, her fellow guards hadn't noticed the two slip out at all.
After alerting her fellow guardsmen, the three set out into the night. They had a job to do, and technically, a murderer was out there, somewhere.
Finally, she catches up to them. Portia is supporting the boy, he's far more drunk than she is and can barely walk. But she seemed determined to get to his place, immediately, practically dragging him along down the road. Portia's face falls when she realizes her guards had caught up to her.
"Alright, alright, I've had enough. Come with me, princess, we're taking you home," calls out Kat.
"Awwwww. Come on. It's just one night....I promise I won't tell my parents, if you don't," Portia pleads.
"Yeeeeeeash. C'mon, y'shpoilsport. Let'er have'hr fun," slurs the boy next to her. "She wants t' be wif me."
"Look, no offense, but your parents paid me to do one thing. I'm gonna do that thing. Let's go."
Portia purses her lips, scanning the face of the one guard who wouldn't let her be.
After all, both of them had better things to do that night.
But in the end she huffs and stomps after them. "....Fine. Let's go."
Portia is silent the whole walk home. The Silver Ghost didn't make an appearance that night.
Xantrian looked around the rest of the shop, and seeing it empty, closed the door and locked it. "You know why I come here, Darius. You may run a pawn shop, but I've never met another so well-connected to the mutterings of the underworld." The two clasped hands, and Xantrian's face broke into a rare smile.
"Still don't know why I put up with you," Darius mutters.
Xantrian ignores the gruff man's complaints. "First..."
Darius sighed. "I know, Gaedren Lamm. Same question every time, Xantrian. No, I don't have anymore information on him than I've already told you."
A nod, a sigh. Xantrian didn't really expect anything else. "Next, then. Little boy by the name of Jory Ives. He's a street rat, barely getting by. I'd give him a few scraps of leftover food from time to time, when he'd let me. Odd thing was, he always had a set of finely-carved wooden pipes. He couldn't play them worth two pennies, but they were his most treasured possession. I saw him just this morning, eyes blackened, roughed up, and pipes missing. Wouldn't say anything about what happened."
Darius tapped a finger against his lip a few times, then reached under the counter, pulling out a set of wooden pipes, his raised eyebrow a question.
Xantrian nodded. "That's them. Who sold them to you?"
"I didn't get his name. Probably a teenager, maybe just out of his teens. Broad, not too intelligent looking. Street thug, probably." After giving a detailed description, Darius looks down at the pipes, staring for several seconds. Eventually, he lets out a sigh and hands the pipes over to Xantrian. "You'll return them to Jory?"
A nod, a grim smile. "Thank you, Darius. I'll try to get the money out of that bastard and return it to you."
"Sure you will. We done here? I have a business to run you know."