"Oooh! Those pesky orphans...I'll keep my eyes peeled for more, thanks DAD." she smirked, blowing off Studley and Baazil's urgent calls for filial piety. In fact, Chip was neither an orphan nor disrespectful of her own eldery parents anyways...coming from the edges of a wealthier Free City block. She was given a great education, and is moderately well-read for her class. But the philosophies of morality and ethics she memorized by rote have little place in a street fight.
Sandikar flipped the rusty piece of low-grade iron over, and again the pickpocket analyzed her target. Observations? His hands were calloused on the wrong side. This was a fighter not a farmer...a fighter that was obviously no stranger to a fist fight. If she was busted dipping a finger into his coins, she would no doubt taste a hot kiss before she could scramble through the crowd. "Oh...my letter opener, thanks."
Delicate, vs 20:1d100 ⇒ 79fail
What happened next was somewhat awkward. The young lady appeared to put the dagger back into her backpack, but the bulge at her wrist betrayed the fact that she had indeed slipped it up her sleeve instead. Why was she being so dishonest about her weapon?
At the guard's selection, the halfling looked around for a nametag with 'Geoffrey' written on it. She soon realized that no one was wearing nametags.
The thin-bodied halfling woman clasped Cedryk by the wrist, using the man's inertia to leverage herself up. Her instincts guided hungry fingers towards his purse, but there was something hyper-alert in Cedryk's eyes that spooked the thief. Hey! Thanks, I'm Chippie. Some call me Chippers. Short for 'Chipluck'." waving away confusion "No, no, I know...its a weird name..." about to explain her entire lifestory when the old man lumbered over and shouted directly towards their faces and heads.
Sassing back to Baazil like an annoying teenager "I think you dropped your RE-spectacles, third blind mouse! Did you fall asleep in a theatre 500 years ago and just stumble out, is that why your acting critique is soooooo refined and soooo spot-on?" ejecting a raspberry to emphasize the dripping sarcasm.
She wasn't angry in the slightest, it was merely the rapid bickering of someone born direct from city life.
Butting, cutting, and coconutting the line the tiny white haired beauty surged through the crowd magnanimously...impacting the stone wall directly. The halfling (who honestly was much too small for a mount like this) slid off the saddle instantly, crashing to the ground. With a quick deft flair, her body twisted midair and she landed on her backpack.
*crunCH*
Crowbar, daggers, grappling hooks, and an insane number of flammable liquids spilled out. "Oh Jiminy Jerkins, dang!" she cussed, scrambling to reorganize her few provisions as the mule questioned its own existence. Those kind souls that rushed to her aid would later find their purses mysteriously lost weight.
Her dark ochre cloak was a much lighter brown from the layers of travel dust, and the most ornate thing about her dress was a simple steel bracelet on her left wrist. So when she gave the guard a name and said "Shoemaker lookin' to make more shoes." it seemed plausible...even though it was a total lie.
My ADnD 2e DM was a meat grinder. 5th level was the highest character in our group after 10 years or so (we played about once a week with 24 hour sessions). A ranger/mage dual class, which was actually not legal RAW I think. So yeah, steady flow of fresh equipment... ;)
If we are tracking XP and depending on the nature of the game I'll stay thief forever. If milestone XP I might get the urge to Magic-User or multiclass.
Yes, my crunch is certainly finished but I did want to write a background (I tend to do bullet point backgrounds). I have not had a chance this week to really get into it, but that will change tonight with the weekend.
mishima here, I will be using this alias. I wasn't sure about languages, I assume it is the standard fare but could I take something like Cant or hand-signaling?
One last thing, I couldn't find anything like thieves' tools in the equipment. Are these abstracted away?
I will write up a little backstory shortly. Otherwise all set.
Chipluck was always unable to suppress greed, it was his 2nd Achilles's heel. The first was to exploit people's sense of empathy with poverty.
"...just think of it. The corsair's booty. Choice wares and pilferings for perhaps years. If only we knew more of this Al-Gamal, its worth...specific treasures within. All to recover in the name of the Grand Caliph, of course..."
Id be down for raiding the corsair hideout, not sure what everyone else wants to do.
Chip offered the electrum and silvered jambiya to any in the party that would hold them. He wasn't sure why he was still putting on airs of poverty out here on the caravan, just habit perhaps.
Unfurling the map subserviently for Nabila and anyone else, Chip struggled to place themselves on it. He motioned where the thieve's route intersected the normal caravan route "Pardon my most profound idiocy, my most pure ineptitude...but could it be where the thieve's route intersects the caravan route is our current location? Our destination, Adhal, just beyond?"
Then, while they were distracted, he collected his trusty rusty daggers from the dead and re-concealed them on his person, along with the Grand Caliph's dagger. While he was at it, he searched the dead.
Chipluck is among the first to search the corsairs under the pretense of disarming their weapons...but of course is truly looking for other objects of special value.
He slinked into melee like the slimy scumbag he's always been, filching one of the forgotten bows and a few arrows stuck in the sand for his own profit...
Sorry, work starting again, long nights...meant to post this a few days ago
Chip climbs the nearby wagon and draws the ol' "trusty rusty's" from his hope-its-not-that-orifice hidden stash spot on his person. He finds the nearest coursair not engaged in melee to target. The act was little more than muscle memory, the grimy beggar threw very much the same way he did when he was just an elven infant of 30...before losing it all.
As the corsairs rattled across the sands, Chipluck drew the Grand Caliph's dagger from a hidden fold in his crusty, flea-ridden tunic...waiting for just the right moment...
Dagger:20 - 1d20 - 1 - 4 ⇒ 20 - (12) - 1 - 4 = 3+1 bless, +4 rear attack and negate shield and dex bonuses to AC Dmg:2d4 + 2 ⇒ (2, 3) + 2 = 7
...before slashing out at the Achilles's heel of a passing corsair, dropping him instantly to the ground and stabbing the full blade just below the nape where the back begins. A memory of a pale scorpion taking shade on the streets of Muluk flooded back to him along with the blood rush of battle.
Chip scurries under one of the wagons like a coward, quickly disappearing in a cloud of sand. But some might have seen the Grand Caliph's dagger cupped in his hand just so, the adder's tooth coiling to strike...
The shaggy elf looks left to right through his party before "E...excuse me maestro, why would a corsair so brazenly attack a caravan of the Grand Caliph? Are they after something besides the weapons?"
Sorry, been kind of out of it as well. And not really sure what to contribute to the scene given my rock bottom station.
Meekly "...the lady Dervish is an expert on the desert flora. Some greater than me might suspect this 'runner' as well...convenient to leave at the moment we would all die."
Chip finally carries it along and back to the others "Look what Madame Nabila has found...the cook seems crooked!" before excusing himself for nature's business.
Hey guys, I'm going to bow out of this game. Has been a blast but I want to focus on prepping a game to DM and maybe get into some shorter commitment type (ie single module) games.
Reach Spell (Concentrate, Spellshape) You can extend the range of your spells. If the next action you use is to Cast a Spell that has a range, increase that spell's range by 30 feet. As is standard for increasing spell ranges, if the spell normally has a range of touch, you extend its range to 30 feet.
Drain Bonded Item (Arcane, Wizard) Frequency once per day Requirements Your bonded item is on your person. You expend the magical power stored in your bonded item. During the current turn, you can cast one spell you prepared today and already cast, without spending a spell slot. You must still Cast the Spell and meet the spell’s other requirements.
Arcane Prepared Spells DC 17, attack +7; 1st Force Barrage, Mystic Armor; Cantrips Draw Moisture, Ignition, Message, Prestidigitation, Shield
APPEARANCE: A young but mature man with portly build often dressed in an Issian style with a brown overcoat, and a brown chef's hat. If wearing a backpack cookware peeks out from under the flaps. He wears a beard, light in heat but full in winter. His hair is black and when visible cut short. Not unhandsome but not overly outstanding either, he tends to blend into any street scene neither noticeable or suspiciously unnoticeable.
Short Alias: Jora Cook
Full Fake Name: Yegor (Jora) Denisovich Nemtsev
Real name: Yeremey Leonidovich Severov
Short Backstory:
The Vanishing caused loss for so many, not just for the high but the low as well. A member of the royal family visits the noble Surtova palace. At the feast everything goes well and for the chef and his family is happy, but in the morning the nobel is missing and in the confusion, a meal is prepared dangerously wrong and a stressed Lord Noleski blames his chef giving him a harsh sentence and caused the family to flee. In his flight to a ship he loses track of his mother and brother. Taking the name Jora and plying his father taught trade of cooking, he receives a share of a sadly deceased passenger, a puzzle box. Solving it he learns it's a strange spellbook, with concise spells. Fearing capture he later moves south meeting a fay in Grozney, and an elf in Rostov.
In spite of all that happened he is still proud of his Issian heritage; still it's no defense when the Rostlander elf Raisa captures his heart. Marriage follows with a daughter Sophia. So with little time to study magic as he has for giving support for a better king. For now he cooks for the wealthy. But as a retainer to a wealthy patron, he may be called upon to serve for a night soon to be fateful.
Long Backstory:
The Vanishing:
One night a decade ago, a great feast is held at the palace of the young Lord Noleski Surtova who receives a royal born guest a close relative of the Rogavarian King. All goes well and everyone retires for the evening but panic breaks out in the early hours as the guest is mysteriously missing. Yeremey is assisting his father in preparing the morning meal but he and most of the staff is called away to search. After the meal is served some of the household including Lord Noleski fall ill which is blamed on bad food. Lord Noleski, in a rage, sends his chef to the salt mines.(1) Warned his family flees their Lord's wrath.
The Ship:
Fleeing from pursuit Yeremey loses track of his mother and brother. Desperate he gets himself a berth as a cook, saying his name was Jora, really the of a late neighbor, on on a merchant ship traveling far. Never did the crew eat so well. On one trip a man died with no known friends or family, so his belongings were divided. The captain tossed a puzzle box to Jora knowing the the clever lad would enjoy it. Soon Jora figures out the secret of the box but has trouble making use of that knowledge. The ship makes Port Ice again, and Jora once again snuck away.
The Forest:
Jora makes his way south as best he can, with fear driving him to learn the ways of the streets, in spite of his fervent pride in Issia. He learns that the vile Noleski, no true nobel, has usurped the throne of Brevoy, though with many patriot houses refusing to acknowledge that.(2) Though his heart burns with hatred, there is nothing he can do. Eventfully he is travelling through the fay-ridden forest of Grozney getting lost. This attracts the attention of a fay creature who decides to play some tricks but soon is distracted by the sweet smells coming from the cookfire. Jora having figured out what was happening offers to have the fay join him. After this befriending, Flare Leafwhirl makes Jora his friend, teaching him the fairy tongue and a bit of magic allowing Jora to make progress in his study. Soon enough he has leave, fay can be fun but are not human and Jora needed his kind about.
The City:
Restov is a good place to go unnoticed. A busy city with conflicting aristocrats drawing all the attention. While not liking the Swordlords Jora found the commoners of Restov to be decent people. Still, sometimes his pro-Issian beliefs cause some friction but such friction became less when he met the local half-elf woman Raisa, he could not help but fall in love. After a courting and converting to her faith in Pharasma, he tells her the truth about him. They marry and have a daughter they name Sofia. Between his wife, daughter, duties as a cook, and trying to master his magic, his time is limited so he progress little in his career or in magic.
The Day:
He cooks for many but the nobles pay best. He is offered a temporary job to help cook by a wealth patron, he is curious because of rumors hinting a wealth and adventures like he had in his youth. A feast is to be held and Jora expects to be busy for that night, one that may soon change his fate.
(1) Noleski having a bad day, am using some knowledge of Kingmaker have play in it before a number of times.
(2) Jora's Point of view, Noleski may be a saint, up to the GM.
