Introduction
Absalom, the City at the Center of the World, has always drawn travelers from distant lands. Yet this year is different, for it is the year of the Radiant Festival, a
celebration of epic proportions held every hundred years to commemorate the failed Radiant Siege of Absalom in
1619 ar. Delegations from across the world congregate at Absalom’s fairgrounds to exhibit their nations’ marvels of magic and masonry. A panoply of performers, merchants, and inventors flood into the city to astound tourists with their art and ingenuity. This year’s grand exhibits include
incredible gyroscopic towers from Vudra, a Minkaian kami temple called the Dragonfly Pagoda, a moving castle built by Keleshite engineers, and a terrifyingly massive excavation machine called Graveraker. While the failed siege by the Whispering Tyrant a year ago set the festival behind schedule and threatened to undo all
the hard work of the Festivals Committee, Tar-Baphon’s defeat has given Absalomians all the more reason to celebrate, and the fair is poised to open to great fanfare
even with many of the exhibits only half-completed. Already the city groans under the pressure of thousands of tourists, with locals simultaneously thrilled at the flow
of trade and despairing at the overcrowding.
To alleviate the latter, Absalom’s leaders adopted an ambitious plan. The prominent Absalomian architect Blune Bandersworth, with the support of Grand Councilmember and City Planner Olansa Terimor, propositioned the Grand Council and bid for a contract to magically transform the Precipice Quarter—a district all but destroyed in an earthquake 22 years ago into the heart of the 4724 ar Radiant Festival. The enthusiasm of Acting Primarch Wynsal Starborn, who since taking
his station has wanted to resurrect the Precipice Quarter, sealed the deal for the site of this century’s grand fair.
The Radiant Festival has already brought gold and tourists to the city like never before, but with such opportunity comes danger. Unable to completely clear the Precipice
Quarter of monstrous threats before the opening-day festivities, festival
officials have simply cordoned off some parts of the district.
Meanwhile, lawbreakers of all sorts see potential gain in the chaos: petty thieves pick the pockets of wealthy travelers and fairgoers, while the machinations of
the city’s most powerful gangs and criminal families finally reach a boiling
point amid the celebration and spill over into all-out street warfare.
To help keep the peace, Absalom’s leaders have established a new division of guards to patrol the Precipice Quarter during the fair and thereafter the Edgewatch.
Opening Scene
As the camera shifts to guard house in the center of the Precipice Quater, a newly graduated recruits get their assignment to a squad and their gear
Guard House
It is early in the morning, the day after graduation. You each have been assigned to the Squad 429 “The Bad Batch”. Named after a famous squad that save most of the citizens during the Precipice Quarter’s earthquake. Your uniform is dark grey with green stripes on each leg. You have also been given the “Codex of Law” badge a device that once attune to it will automatically give you the ability to make a summary judgement for any offensive actions by the those dwelling in the Quater.
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The badge will also make your attacks or spell non-lethal. However there is a command word that turns off that feature. The badge once per day will heal you (2d8). Any common items you need will provided to you by filling out the form 99. As you each assemble in the briefing room waiting to meet Lieutenant Lavarsus. Take the time to introduce yourselves.
It’s been a long time since League has seen the insides of a guard house, and back then it was to petition for the release of some of his own family. Still, as his great-uncle Gulbaria liked to say: “a coin rolls to many strange places, and takes many a bump and bounce along the way”.
League winces wistfully and tries to stand a little straighter, his ceramic armor newly fitted and blades (the fell bastard sword at his left and workmanlike shortsword at his right) positioned just so. His uniform is a little rumpled, but he’s worn a uniform before and understands the limits of decorum. There’s only so much slovenliness the higher-ups will tolerate, but gods if he won’t push it to the limits of his own comfort. These pants are not…generous in the leg, and League is a tall man, lithe and cordlike - not especially strong, but enough to crack a head or two if necessary. His greying hair speaks to a prime left behind some years back, but his eyes are clear and show a distinct interest in…everything. Oddities. Small details. Or…the lack thereof.
He sniffs and looks at his fellow inductees, as if testing the atmosphere, or just clearing his nostrils. An amiable smile and a cheeky wink alert you to his general mien.
Ak is sitting on a chair eating his donkey meat sandwich, while writing out the form for some equipment: 5 handcuffs, 1 handful of aurifying salts, 1 fingerprinting kit, 1 grolnas, 1 recording rod, 1 nightstick, 1 artisan toolkit, and 1 repair kit.
Ak is sweating a lot, as he never had work with so many people before, he sneakly look at the other guards, squeezing his Big Boom Gun.
As Barhir clanks down the hallway he gets the stare from others... some even opening their office doors to see what the commotion is.
Hmm! I need to tighten the solenoid on that left knee spring stabilizer. It's making a little too much noise.
He walks to the row of lockers labeled 429 and looks down at the notice in his hand for his locker. Unfortunately, it's a lower locker which is going to cause issues, as he armor wasn't designed for crouching. Still, he gives it his best shot and turns sideways almost tumbling to the floor to access the empty locker. He quickly deposits a small bag of clothes, and a larger tool bag before adding a couple of pints of a new lubricating fluid he had been developing, before lurching back to his feet. He simply nods and smiles at any onlookers anxious for him to fall.
He touches his Codex of law to make sure it's in place and turns to smile and nod at a couple of his new acquaintances from academy.
"Well. It looks like our big day is here. Are you as excited... and nervous as I am"?
Twas a lady's name he had, but not her demeanor.
No.
Already descended from the shorter ancestries, it wasn't just a special height that cursed our irreverent hero's disposition, but his name: Lavanna; feminine and flowery and flowing softly off the tongue. Born wrong, or perhaps his parents thought it a cruel joke, "Sergeant Salt" (as he would later come to refer to himself - as well as insist others do!) grew up continuously on the defensive. "Lady Boy" they had called him, and he resented every bit of it. It wasn't uncommon for him to get into scraps on a weekly or even daily basis growing up, hardening his temperament, callousing over like a thick shell over his wounded ego.
A scowl made permanent with age as the muscles used to smile had atrophied over the years - nevermind the alcohol, which didn't help - presents to the world a man who looks like he is in pain. And in this case, what you see is what you get, for in addition to the usual wear and tear of hard work over old age, Lavanna Saltspray had hardened his heart from the emotional scars of a lifetime of teasing and bullying. Using his badge now - - to extract some twisted revenge, becoming the bully himself, a pre-emptive offense as a defense mechanism!
He spits upon the ground, and introduces himself once more .
From underneath his robes' hood, you see a scarred, dark skinned man. Something glitters beneath the hood. If you're close enough, you might hear him muttering to himself, "Damned mechanical man. It just isn't right. There's already too much. Too much magic, too.".
He wears the badge on his shoulder, and, he snarls at it sometimes. It's obvious he doesn't like it.
"Alright, Sergeant Salt, I'm Paulos. I'm, ... uncomfortable around so much that just isn't natural, but, " and he looks furtively around, "I feel much safer working for the law. I hope that it will protect me."
League leans against the wall with his habitual langour. He sniffs again looking over his new “crew”.
So. A metal man, a goblin with a gunne, a grumpy halfling and a…paranoid.
He’d seen, and been partnered with, worse. Then again, that was twenty years ago, before he fell into legitimate ways. And this was the long arm of the law.
”Well met all. Name’s League, League Anskblodt. I guess we’re gonna be squaddies.”
Suddenly without an real warning, the door leading to briefing slams open. A tall human, middle aged, blonde hair, chewing on a cigar appears. Everyone get in here, and make sure you have everything and everyone you each look around to see if have everyone one!
"Yeah yeah" Sergeant Salt waves his superior's formality away. Ain't nobody said nothing yet.
He elbows Paulos "Probably not, kid" he answers his question, then enlightens the youth "Hate to break it to y, but most folks hate cops" he chokes on a self-depricating laugh "But don't worry - the hatred comes with a healthy fear of authority - that born of that busted star ya wear - so practically, ya get to make yer case most o' the time, and be given wide berth. Just don't piss off the wrong punk, is all"
He sneaks another swig of his flask, and rubs his eyes.
Ak is practically eating his big boom gun, trying to both hide his nervousness and his violet eye. But he mustered the courage to speak up and said "Um, will I get the item that I listed on this list?" As Ak step closer to the man, trying to get his full attention.
Bahir salutes abruptly his hand making a clanging sound as it contacts the helmet.
Gotta remember to loosen the tension on that spring in the above horizontal elbow bend.
Sir... yes sir".
Bahir stomps forward to where he is directed.
League saunters in also, pausing by Bahir. He offers the man a small smile of reassurance.
”It’s natural to be nervous. And excited. Plenty of times they are the same thing…”
Eh, that is quicker than some games I'm in. I'm still here, ready to play when you are.
As you each walk into the room, there are two people The first is Lieutenant Lavarsus a big blind human, dressed in navy grey with large cigar in his mouth, the end of it lit and smells like bourbon from the River Lands.
The second person is kobold, you know him as Sergeant Shattertooth, he belongs with the Quater Master. ”Give me your 1099’s for any equipment. he waits for each you to hand over the form. Then he leaves, he looks over his shoulder as he shuts the door.
The lieutenant rises from behind his desk, glaring out from beneath brooding brows as he silently studies his new agents.After a long moment, he shakes his head, muttering “unbelievable.”as he pulls his well-chewed cigar from his mouth and gestures disdainfully.
“This year’s Radiant Festival is the most ambitious peacetime undertaking the city’s seen. The Edgewatch is responsible for the safety of thousands. I told the council I needed the best of the best. And instead they send me you—a bunch of rookies so green you’ve practically got gills. Did you pin those badges on yourself, or did Sergeant Ollo have to do it for you?” He sighs and sits.
“Abadar only knows what sin I committed to deserve you. But we work with what we’re given. You do what you’re told,learn from the veterans, and maybe you’ll come out of this proper guards. But if I catch you shirking work or tarnishing the reputation of this precinct, I’ll bounce you out of here so hard you’ll land in Absalom Harbor. Clear?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead snatching up a scrap of paper from his desk and holding it out.
“Here’s your first assignment. A bunch of dung-heeled wannabe adventurers are smashing up the Tipsy Tengu. Clean it up—book ’em or fine ’em, just don’t kill anyone.” He shuffles through some more papers on his desk before looking up pointedly. “Well? You want me to hold your hand on the way there? Get going. Dismissed and stop by the front desk to get your stuff he then goes about his business.
"So what, my miserable 40 years in the puddles policing five generations of dirty goblins counts for diddly squat?!" the Sergeant knows better than to voice his misgivings aloud - for now - snarling his nose instead.
"1099 - what in the samhell is that!?" unaccustomed to formally tracking his provisions, our callous hero fails to file away the memory to do so in the future. Like he cares if he gets yelled at by some pipsqueak half his age!
Speaking of being caught - Lavanna catches whiff of the bourbon, looks left and right - and with the Quartermaster Shattertooth gone, reaches into his pocket, takes a swig of that goodol' dirtysweet, and instead of depositing it back into his pocket, hesitates a moment, and plonks it on the table in front of him, openly. What are they gunna do: fire him? The "revenge" has a pleasant effect on his mood, softening his frown by a single facial muscle into, well, marginally less of a frown.
He listens to the speech. Rolls his eyes. Swipes his bottle. Looks at his comrades. Yells "Well it's not gunna protect itself - up and at 'em!" Shoulders his effects. Checks his gun's chamber. Says a short prayer. And heads.
League considers the scene. The bottle. The cigar. The...opprobrium and bluster.
He shrugs and heads out the door, making sure to pick up his Healers Toolkit on the way past the front desk. He then waits just outside for his fellow squadmembers.
"Come on Bahir. Ak, Paulos. We should try to get there at the same time or even before Sergeant Saltspray. He may be likely to cause more trouble than already exists at the 'Tengu."
The sweat ran in rivulets beneath Bahir's armor, as he stood having his first mission relayed to him. Fortunately, beneath his fine if unusual armor his discomfort was not obvious.
He salutes once again this time careful to not clang his gauntlet fist off his visor and turns to follow the more experienced from the room.
Geez. I hope I don't get that grouchy when I've been her a hundred years.
"Right-o Let's scoot".
Ak pick up all of his equipment, as he slowly make his way to wherever his team goes.
Paulos, trying hard not to draw any attention, slinks out of the room after Bahir.