I understand completely, and I hope things get better for you soon. I've hugely enjoyed your creative take on this game and I'm sorry not to see the journey through but so it goes.
All the best.
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OOC:
Didn't expect y'all to take the ship :)
Cathy snorts derisively at the guard's story - murdered or not, the affairs of kings are as distant to her as the affairs of the gods, who cares? She looks down at the river and concentrates on poling this damn ship to wherever it's supposed to go. She's not a river-rat, so she depends on someone who knows the way. Still, the promise of a favour is not nothing. She gives this Soldado a once-over before borrowing his flask. "So, Sable Comp'ny, then. Watcha do when yer not fallin' outta the sky?" She's familiar enough with the watch (which is to say, she does her best not to get caught by them when she's on the job); but the beast-riders are something else.
Oop, my bad! She does have a habit of being where she's not supposed to, unfortunately ;)
Cathy gives a derisive snort. "In the Jeggarre?! Swimming ain't the least of it! You forgotten what happened to that poor ****er Lamm threw in the river?" (He hadn't done it himself, of course. Sia did it. But Cathy decides not to mention that bit in front of Sia's boyfriend. She's an addict; she's not stupid.) She shudders. "I dunt even know what that thing was that took him, but drowning woulda been a better way to go." She can still remember the churn as the water went white with foam, and then pink with blood. And the screaming, suddenly cut off as the poor sod went under.
Cathy looks at Annelise in a moment of shocked silence; she is this close to snapping that this is not her problem, spinning on one heel, and stalking away... but two things stop her. The first is the crash of masonry nearby as a burning house collapses in on itself when the timbers give way. Is she really about to head off, by herself, into a city that has clearly gone mad? The second is the whispered voice from somewhere within her, a dim vestige of a memory of pride or self-respect or something equally unfamiliar: you help this guy, and he owes you. Or do you wanna be under Lamm's thumb forever? She blinks, and nods at Annelise. "Right you are. Let me go check the boat out." It's not a bad idea, get off the streets but still keep moving. The sort of thing she should have thought of herself. She deftly scrambles up aboard the ship, doing her best to inspect it for river-worthiness.
Having run out of earthly troubles to point at, Cathy gestures flamboyantly to the sky as Annalise moves towards the nearest danger. "First she tells me not to attract attention, and then she walks right up to it! What is with that?!?!"
Cathy has already nonchalantly pocketed said jewel (for "safekeeping" you understand). She gives Lorick a sideways glance at his choice of words - it can't be accidental that he used the same phrase as on that mysterious card. (She's good at thieving, but very bad at cards.) Once they're outside, she is even more expressive. "Get to Lamm?! Through that?!" She points - or rather gestures - in no particular order at: the mob surrounding the wounded and fallen griffin rider; the Hellknights swarming down the other end of the street; the looters; the direction from which the alarm bells are sounding; the flames rising from the nearby street; before she gives in, just wildly gesticulating all around her at the city which has exploded into rioting and violence. "How in the ****ing **** are we supposed to ***** DO THAT?!?!?!?!?!?!"
Cathy spits on the ground when the Principle makes his offer. "Nah, you can rakk that an' shove it up where the sun don't shine. I'm already in too deep with one boss, I sure as **** don't need another." As they emerge back on to the street, her nostrils catch the smell of smoke. "What the ****?" Her spell of protection has long since worn off, and she shrinks back towards the shadows, drawing a pair of knives from her boots. That helps, a bit. She looks at the others. "What we s'posed to do now?"
Yes. The pluses hugely outweigh any possible minuses, IMO.
Cathy is about to argue furiously about being kept away from the drugs - she wasn't going to steal much, just take a wrap or two as a "souvenir" of this encounter - but her eyes meet with Annalise's stare and, in a rare display of self-preservation, she shuts up. She takes her feelings out on the laboratory equipment: Annalise's threat is accompanied by a counterpoint crescendo of things breaking, badly.
Cathy takes that sort of threat to life and limb seriously (at least, when she's sober) - even as the man falls, she is a blur of motion, diving forward, rolling and grabbing the vial as she rises back up to her feet with a grin on her face. "Saved us all! Nothing to worry about."
She She looks around at the others. "What now? Best do something with this lot afore they wakes up."
Sounds horrendous and I'm not surprised you're shaken up by it! Hope everyone's ok.
Cathy does her best to steer clear of the melee. From somewhere inside her clothing, she produces a pair of blades which she flings with a practiced motion at the principle. She imbues them both with a small amount of her magic, to improve the accuracy and give them a bit more edge when they strike.
Theatre of the mind is mostly just about communication, there's always glitches and misunderstandings but as long as you're happy with allowing re-writes/retcons then we should be ok :) More importantly: am I good to post my next move?
"So, I'm gonna let youse through to have your conversation. One thing though: don't hurt none of my brothers, chinny? And the second thing: tell anyone we let you through without a fight and we'll make sure youse all have got one - on our terms, at a time of our choosing. Chinny?" Cathy grins as she breezes past him. "You got it, big guy." She doesn't even blink as the door opens to reveal the axe-wielding woman, instead launching into a blur of movement that ends with her foot striking the woman's leg just below the knee.
I loved the fact we had the option to avoid fighting there - I approve :)
GMBP:
Can we do a quick retcon for me to cast Mage Armour before moving on the fishery? It lasts a full hour so it should be good for the duration. Cathy grins as the door pops with a minimum of fuss, and slots the shiv back into its rightful place on a belt somewhere under her cloak. She doesn't even flinch as the room proves not to be as empty as they might have hoped. Keep moving, always. She nods as Darius mutters his warning, before looking straight at the Bonerack Bro. "So, Karl, yeah? Gotta say I weren't expecting you guys to be muscle for this one. You know he dunt pay his dues to Lamm, right? He sent us to fix that, and you know you don't wanna get inna way of that. Cos if you do, you might take us down, but then you'll be on the s***list for the next group he sends out." Course, if that happens, they'll all be dead, so she hopes that's not on the cards.
you can escalate up to fighting if talking doesn't work, but it's very hard to go the other way round. So... does anyone have any points in social skills? Between rogue-y things and magic skills, I'm tapped out.
Yeah, if we don't need to get to the boat en route to the fishery we leave alone for now.
Cathyriel nods at Annalise's plan, although she can't help thinking that the scarily-determined woman would have gone ahead regardless of anyone's approval. She rolls her eyes as both Lorick (stoically) and Darius (flamboyantly) fail to conform to her ideals of stealth. Luckily neither of them has drawn attention. She hopes that lasts. "Keep it down will ya! I dunno or care about them bells, long as they're noisier 'n you lot are." She focuses. The first day after the drugs is always the best, there's just enough left in her system to keep the withdrawal away, but her mind is clear enough to think. "Right, that way." She points to the fishery. The boat can wait; Lamm certainly can't.
My turn to have internet issues! I'll get a post up tomorrow.
I think it works a little wonky in PBP b/c there's a lot of conversation to set things up that would happen in a matter of seconds at a table, which of course drags out. Agree with this - BitD is 'descended' from the Powered by the Apocalypse gaming family, which expressly bills itself as a conversation among the players and the GM where you roll dice only when it really matters: there's never a point where you roll Perception/Diplomacy/Sense Motive just on the offchance it might be useful. Your dice roll always makes something happen, whether good or bad. That inevitably means every roll involves some discussion so that everyone is clear on the stakes and potential range of outcomes - and in PbP that takes up time. Can I get some clarification on our options in the game, btw? I read your earlier post as meaning we needed to get onto the ship in order to get across to the fishery, but your latest post suggests that we can get there directly and that the boat is a distraction. If that's right, I suggest we leave the distraction alone and focus on our goal of getting into the fishery.
Pathfinder 2 has a "Follow the expert" action that addresses this in a different way. I think I might like BitD better. BitD is amazing - I'm in a game (run by Sarah/Annalise) on these boards (LINK - note that the dice rolls are all in the discussion thread) and it's just so much fun to play. It's seriously changed my thinking on how role-playing games should work.
@GMBP: would you be open to a BitD-style "group action" for things like stealth? E.g., if everyone else rolls and gets at least a 10 (which is the DC for an Aid Another action), then we can use my roll for everyone, with a -2 to my roll (essentially, a "reverse" Aid Another) for each person who doesn't manage to get a 10? Let me know what you think!
Cathy flashes Darius a quick grin. "I'm a cat-burglar, I might get my paws wet sometimes but I ain't gonna be swimming anytime soon!" She keeps to the shadows as best she can as she leads the group towards the boat that is hopefully their key to a clandestine entry.
Works for me!
Cathy chews on her lower lip as she assesses the situation. "Nah, the upper floor ain't any good, them windows is tight shut. But, looks like there's a boat down there, we could maybe jump on that and get across into the lower level of the fishery, yeah?" She gives the others a slightly dubious look. She's not sure how many of them are exactly used to going unseen.
Stumbling out the murk of Gaedran Lamm's lair into the spring sunshine is a little like being reborn; Cathy squints and holds one hand up to shield her eyes from the light. She gives a quick nod to the rest of the group, and then she's away "Alright. Catch you later." She spends the time available before their heist in one of the city's public baths; she pays that bit extra to get the steam room all to herself, and sits for as long as she can to allow her memories of last night to dissipate from her system. After that, she stops by her home for a clean set of clothes before moving at speed along the rooftops of the Shingles towards her destination.
The cat-burglar drops lightly down behind Lorick and Darius as they finish their conversation. She looks very different from the bedraggled wretch they saw earlier, more bright-eyed, and smelling a lot better. "Why go inna front door, if ya don't hafta? There's gotta be a place we can get up to the roof from here, drop right in." As ever, her pattern of speech is wildly at odds with her Chelaxian appearance: in the right clothes, she could walk down the swankiest street in the city and look like she belongs. Right up to the point she said anything. Her eyes narrow as she looks up, trying to find a good way to break into their target that doesn't involve the front door.
Hi all, I've just heard from Sarah/Annalise and she's back in hospital (complications from an accident she had last year). She should be fine but they've been keeping her in for observation to make sure she recovers. I'm not sure when she'll be back to posting so I suggest we continue and hope she can make it back soon.
Cathy does her best to suppress a shudder as Lamm looks directly at her, even if his words are in praise of her skills she'd prefer he forget about her existence. She can't hold that gaze for long and looks away as soon as she can. She doesn't know anything about the Bonecrack gang but trusts Darius' information to be accurate. "Keep kills to a minimum, sounds like, yeah?" That works for her. She's drawn a blade in her time, of course, but self-defence only (sometimes, admittedly, for a robust definition of "self-defence"). She's a sneak, rather than a killer, both by profession and by preference.
Cathyriel is miserably aware that she lacks the willpower to stand up to Gaedren Lamm; she seems to shrivel and wilt under his gaze, imperceptibly shuffling towards the back of their little group. When Darius speaks up, she gives him a look: part horrified incredulity in case Lamm takes offence at the rest of them by proxy; and part envy that anyone would have the guts to speak to the crime boss with such insolence. She tenses up, ready to flee at the first sign that Lamm decides to hang those guts from the rafters as a warning to everyone else.
Cathy blinks owlishly at Lorick and Annelise, whom she recognises, and at the two others, whom she doesn't. Although (as per her system) this is one of her sobriety days, she stopped off on the way here to pick up a little something to take the edge off her nerves; just a little micro-dose, you understand, something to calm the anxiety verging on terror that Lamm always induces in her. As the others speak, she shuffles idly from foot to foot before giving her opinion. "Nah. The people Lamm makes an example of don't get summoned like we did, they get dragged in kicking and screaming. Whatever he wants us for, I dunt reckon it's that." She wraps her arms round her thin frame, as if trying to keep warm. "Doesn't mean that what he wants us for is nice, though. He dunt do nice."
Blue shiver? Why the **** would Jolus be asking about that? Even the mention of the drug is a strong trigger: Cathy's hand is inside her pocket before she even realises what she's doing. Nothing there of course, except - whaddya know - there is, somehow? She gives Yarryn a weak smile as he talks about being safe. "You keep using that word. I dunt think it means what you think it means." Her conflicting emotions as she watches him walk away have her hopping from one foot to the other, until - almost in spite of herself - she breaks into a skipping half-run and catches up with him, wriggling one arm round his waist and drawing him into a fierce hug, her other hand around the back of his neck as she tiptoes up (he's not especially tall, but Cathy is shorter than most) to give him a long, lingering kiss. "Thanks. For coming to find me. Specially after how - how we left things." She steps away hurriedly, acutely aware of how she looks - and smells. "Anyway, tonight. We'll talk. About... you know, things. And ... stuff. Gotta go." With that, she's away. It's not until she's round the corner and alone that she pulls out the card. She frowns as the voice sounds in her head: she's been clean for - what - six hours now, easy. Maybe even eight. That means the voice is real, probably. She has to get real high these days to start hearing voices. She inspects the card critically, doing her best to examine it for occult power the way Yarryn showed her, before tucking the card inside her clothes.
Even as she makes her way to the meeting, her mind is running over the implications. There's another player in the game, looks like. One with some power, too. Or a death wish, if they're gonna go up against Lamm. As if her life wasn't complicated enough already. Also... "Bring you some 'jewel of great price,' huh? Yeah, don't fink so, lady." She mutters the thought out loud. Cathy can think of other uses for any loot that finds its way into her hands.
Hope you are doing ok! Take the time you need to get well, there are some nasty bugs going around.
It's hard to spot - Chelaxians are naturally pale-skinned, and Cathyriel is currently rocking that strung-out, addict look - but the fact that Jolus (and, ergo, Lamm) knows about her and Yarryn is enough to drain the blood from her face. S*** s*** s***! She hadn't really expected to keep secrets from the King of Spiders, but there's always that hope to keep something back, something that is just yours and yours alone. Growing up on the streets, hope is the thing with the quills that will get you killed. Stupid. Stupid. Even as Yarryn continues talking, her mind is racing along, trying to work the angles. Cathy lacks a formal education and she is not as smart as Yarryn, but she's a long way from stupid. It's clear that Jolus didn't know where she is, even though Ruslo - ew ew ew what was she thinking - did. Which means, probably, that Ruslo didn't know Jolus was after her, and/or that Jolus didn't know Ruslo knew where she was. They don't talk to each other. Lamm's goons, they don't talk to each other. The King of Spiders might like to present himself as an ever-reaching web stretching across the city, but it would seem that some of those strands don't always connect the way they should. That's not much comfort, but it's a crumb. And growing up on the streets, you learn to cherish every crumb that comes your way. Yarryn stops speaking and she gives him a wan smile. "Look, I 'preciate you droppin everyfing to come find me, eh? Good fing I brung you here before." She doesn't even remember doing that, but she has long since reconciled herself to the fact that the drugs leave her memory with more holes than a Molthuni cheese. "But I ain't gonna sob sorry that my life's got in your way, yeah? You knew I weren't one of them posh girls when you got with me, and I dint hear you complainin' then." She stares up at him defiantly, and then sighs. "OK, so maybe it is my fault, a bit. But I dint know they was gonna come by your work. Take the rest of the day off, chill a bit if you can and I'll come find you later, yeah? You can buy me dinner." If I live that long. Having Jolus on her case is a sharp reminder of her own vulnerability. But it will work itself out. Leastways, it always has so far. "Right. We need to get you outta here before someone sees you dunt belong. C'mon. This way." Her hand creeps into his, her fingers lock with his. Just so's he dunt get lost, of course. Some of these alleyways, you need to watch your step.
Maybe, although it seems to me that you'd keep an addict (especially a known thief) as far away from the drug lab as you could...?
Cathy is from the sneaky-sneaky bit of Lamm's operation: break-in and burglary either to acquire stuff or to plant evidence and deliver threats. She grew up on the streets so it's possible she knows Lorick from there? She ended up in Lamm's orbit because she stole from the wrong person. I don't see her knowing anyone else.
I forgot about money - always a bad sign in a would-be thief :/
Am I allowed to start with some scrolls and/or alchemical stuff already purchased? It would make my adventuring day (career?) last that bit longer...
@Cathy - another thing I can't take credit for. I think I'm a fairly creative GM but I know I'm very good at recognizing what works and stealing it. Good artists copy; great artists steal :)
GMBP: To the untrained eye, it might look as though Cathyriel lives in a chaotic squalor; but there is in fact a system that keeps her functional. Five days a week, she doesn't use... beyond the occasional "micro-dosing" that keeps the withdrawal symptoms at bay. By day six, even that doesn't work and she's a strung-out, trembling mess as the cravings kick in. Day seven is party time: whatever she can smoke, inject, inhale or otherwise get into her system, she spends the day in a permanent haze. So, five days on, two days off, same as most people in the city. That is her system and it serves her just fine. (Denial is one helluva drug.) Anyway, yesterday was day seven which makes this day one - time to dry out and start the week afresh. That means making peace with the memories of yesterday, or at least pushing them into the disused storage locker part of her brain. She winces at what she does remember of last night, and gives a shudder as her body reminds her of the feel of Ruslo's fingers trailing down her spine. She hates the fact that he thinks a few grams of shiver is enough to get into her pants. She hates even more the fact that he's right. Still, at least the toad-shaped impression he left on his side of the mattress is cold to the touch, so he's been gone for a while now. Does it bother her that she should probably have noticed him leaving? Thoughts like these would be a lot easier to decipher if that damn clacking would stop. What the f*** is with that, anyway? What sort of rakker does that, even in Old Korvosa, this time of morning? Unless the hour is later - much later - than she thinks? S**t. She hurries over to the window, where her relief that it is still early morning is erased by the sight of - "Oh, 'kinell," she breathes the curse as she stares down at the one person she would never expect to see in this part of town. What is the dumb kid wearing (that "kid" is actually several years older than Cathy, but she had to grow up fast)? OK, yeah, he's not dressed to the nines like he's just come from the opera (or whatever the **** it is that the nobs do with their time), but he still stands out like a prick in a convent. What's the dumb rakker doing here without a bodyguard? Does he not realise that almost everyone within a half-mile radius would gladly empty that noble blood of his into the gutters, just for shits and giggles? Or ransom him back to his family? Some people really do need saving from themselves. (The irony of this thought is completely lost on her.) Come to think of it, what's he doing here full stop? Back when she had the apartment, this flophouse was where she went to get high, so she never brought Yarryn here. How did he track her down? Questions can wait. She needs to get him off the street before something happens to him. Actually, first she needs to get dressed. "S***. S***. F***." Where are her clothes? She scrambles into a top and a skirt - the leggings she wore yesterday are going to need to be scrubbed and/or burned before she gets into them again, Greasy Ruslo ew ew ew what was she thinking - and shoves her feet into a pair of shoes before running down several flights of stairs to the front door. She opens it a crack, wide enough to let Yarryn in, but doesn't budge further than that. She has no intention, none, zip, nada, of letting him upstairs to see how she lives now. As an addict, shame is a part of her life the way a fish swims in water; but she still has a vestigial trace of pride. "Watchu doin' here? Lookin' for someone to cutcha throat or summink?" She glares at him. How much of the annoyance she's currently directing his way is left-over from their previous argument, and how much of it from genuine concern for his well-being, is an open question. It's certainly not one that Cathy has an answer to. Her feelings regarding Yarryn are... complicated. But somewhere, buried deep as she can hide it so it won't show, is relief: I honestly thought I'd never see you again; I'm so glad you're here.
Ah, I missed the edit window. Well, Ruslan is Rulso now.Gah, having trouble with this name. Ruslo, not Rulso. So, Ruslan was Ruslan, and never Rulso, and is now Ruslo. Easy-peezy! I've changed the name in the profile to match. We have always been at war with Eastasia :) (I love the 'grease-fingered' moniker, btw. Really captures the sleaze of the guy. Ew.)
OK, I think Cathy is about done? Agreed! Looking forward to getting the party started.
Yup, I don't see a need for adding more mechanics to this game; the addiction is much more of an RP thing. In terms of where Cathy lives, she had a reasonably nice place in Midland district but has moved out of there as she was unable to keep up with the rent payments. She now has a flophouse in the slums of Old Korvosa. It's not a nice part of town, but thus far people there know enough not to mess with her. Of course, some of that is due to not wanting to cross Lamm. He'd get a bit upset if someone caused his Cat any trouble. Thanks for reminding me about the EitR changes to Finesse training.
I think Cathy is pretty much ready. With a bit of prep and the right spells she'll be decent in combat, but she'll also be the scout and lockpick of the group. When she's not high, that is.
Cathy grins as Hearthmount gives in. "Pleasure doing business with you. Come on, brother dearest. Let's go home." The following morning she gets up early, with a look of determination on her face that is not normally there. She studies her spells for the day and after breakfast is keen to get on with exploring the prison.
Cathy throws a glance at her brother - he seemed to have the ideas on what to do, but she is better at public speaking. "OK, so, uh. Everything seems to have started going wrong since the Professor died at the prison. We think that something happened there and we need to investigate." Growing with confidence as she continues to speak, she gives Hearthmount a cold smile. She hasn't forgotten how dismissive he was to Kendra. "All that needs to be settled is the matter of our fee for services rendered."
She gives Alexi a meaningful look, hoping that her brother keeps his mouth shut. Paladins have a bad tendency to offer to work for nothing, but a girl has expenses. Nice clothes, fancy hotels and good food don't buy themselves, after all.
Now down to cantrips, Cathy tries to finish things quickly. Her magic however seems to have other ideas.
Cathy uses her last spell to try and get rid of the skull that's attacking her.
Cathy gives a sharp cry of pain as the skull slams into her and burns her flesh. She continues to step away from the skulls attacking her, unleashing another blast of force at the nearest one.
Cathy dodges the skull, trying to put some space between her and it. She blasts it with another magic missile.
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