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Shortly after knocking, Tris (and anyone else who cares to join her) watches as a light appears in the upstairs window. Moments later the sound of creaking wood can be heard as someone moves downstairs. Navaan Davik appears at the front door, wearing a plush and fine dark green robe that covers a set of loose sleeping linens. "I... didn't expect you back so soon. Did you just come back from it?" He scans the street. "Come in, come in! Did anyone see you? How did it go?"
Thingy things!:
Dura fiddles with the latch of the display case until it pops open. He manages to fill his pouch with a large handful of it's contents while the rest of the party leaves out the front door.
Things!:
Tris:
Tris' less than keen knowledge of today's market doesn't reveal anything that stands out amidst the trinkets in the room. You quietly move upstairs, coming onto the second floor. Light from downstairs and the floor above spills into the room, as well as the flicker of torchlight from the streets to the south. This room has a collection of fine clothing similar to the things you've seen the well-to-do of Magnimar walking around in. Robes, Furs, jackets, nightwear and a small collection of walking sticks are distributed about the room.
Dura:
Dura spots a small display case of jewelry that seem to be of a higher value than the glass-wear nearby. They might fetch a decent price in the black market. Further inspection of the cabinet will reveal that it is locked with a rudimentary latch. Tris ascends the stairwell.
Okay, semester is finally [expletive] over. Finished the extra credit stuff that destroyed the last weekend of the semester. Grades have come in. I work at a school, and the end of the semester celebratory stuff has finally died down here too. [So many parties destroyed the diet I was on.] Back to having fun! [and diet!]
more things:
The chest is unassuming, and appears un-trapped. A few rounds later, the lid pops open and reveals the Couturier Coast's lockbox. Inside, it contains a small handful of platinum, a trays of gold, silver and copper divided into conveniently marked columns. A quick glance reveals somewhere in the area of 350 gold worth of coin here. Underneath the tray is a spiral bound ledger with the day's accounting. It appears that Marouk has removed about 200gp for his own personal use, and his assistant was tasked to deposit the day's profits at the local bank. No sounds are heard from upstairs... yet.
dot dot dot:
As Dura begins to tackle the locked drawer with his toolkit, Tris secures the windows and masks the party's presence to the outside world and the two tiefling's keep an eye and ear for incursions from above. Dura's efforts are fruitful. After a handful of seconds, he hears the audible sound of a latch scraping wood as it turns to free itself. The drawer slides open to reveal a chest sitting inside it. *THUMP* *CRASH* *CRINK CRING CRING* Though muddled, the party hears the sound of something falling and breaking to the ground of the third floor. You hear a feminine laugh echo from upstairs as well.
DM Stuff!:
Tieg:
Your efforts in finding a safe prove futile. . Dura:
You find a locked drawer on the desk in the middle of the room. It seems very secured in place. A shiny keyhole teases you with it's presence. Tris:
As the party searches the room, you make much progress in the tearing of the innards of the goods on display. Mudball:
You enter the room quietly, and can see the efforts of the others. Dura appears to be examing a desk while Tris is shredding goods with her blade. Tieg seems lost, looking behind things for something. The party enters the room quietly as can be, the sounds of your individual efforts not carrying much distance... yet.
Soft flickering light seems to barely reveal the forms of Tieg and Tris climb through the window. Inside, racks of assorted goodies, and locked display cases of audacious glass trinkets sit unattended. A stairwell leads upwards directly, and in front of you lies a desk. A small collection of ladies dresses marked for sale lies across the sales desk. The downstairs is silent... for now.
Tieg:
You think it's probably worth three gold pieces. Mudball:
The alleyway is dark, the street is mostly empty. The window in front of you appears to have been jimmied open. Tris' warning does not immediately materialize any threats, though the sound of motion continues on the third floor.
DM:
Dura:
A simple latch prevents the window from being opened. Your tools are successful in prying the window open and coaxing the latch off. Tieg:
A few lanterns hang by beams that run across the ceiling. They illuminate sparkly eye-catching baubles that hang near them. The space around the window is clear, save for a mannequin in a well-tailored grey trenchcoat.
Mudball:
Tris: The lights in the establishment are still on. You hear the occasional sound of movement in the floors above, but don't notice any more faces at windows or the like. Light is seen from all windows.
Damn Mudball, your dice hate you. 4 minutes won't be long, I suspect, as the party investigates things.
DM Dice:
The would be mugger ditches around a corner, believing himself to be followed by Mudball. Rounding the corner, the street tough catches sight of the tiefling fleeing down the street. "Oye! Stop you!" he yells, then begins to give chase. Tieg and Dura:
You successfully sneak into the alleyway without being noticed. You note no access to the building on this side. Further investigation shows three windows at the rear of the building. Tris:
You sprint into the front of an art store and dive under the legs of a easel. Sliding a carelessly left dropcloth in front of you, you manage to avoid the street tough's attention. Mudball:
You take flight, certainly drawing the attention of the street tough. The would be mugger ditches around a corner.
For as much as I want people to post each day, I've been failing. That's my fault, work has been busy and I spent far too much time on campus programming for CSC 159. (Alysha knows.) I don't mind at all, and most of you have my number.
Things!:
The would-be mugger cocks his head sideways questioningly at the halfling, and a crooked smile forms as he advances. Yellow teeth at odd angles protude from cracked red gums. "Better your children lose their lunch money than you, hand it over." When the tiefling lands on the street, he takes a step back startled. "Devil!" he cries out, raising his dagger. He backs off momentarily. "youuu... you can give me your coins too!" he says shakily. He looks over his shoulders and inspects the street. Seeing Mudball lurking in the area he mutters "How many are you? Damn!" and takes off down the street. Mudball, Tris:
While the man runs down the street, you note that the thudding sound has stopped coming from the upstairs of the tailoring establishment. A sliver of candle-light appears on the street as the side of a window curtain has slid back. Two faces, that of a well groomed man and the other a young woman, observe the commotion. After a moment, the man gives you a nod and they slide the curtain closed. All:
Rolls:
Skill Challenge: Convertly Entering The Courtier Coast Goal: To get inside The Courtier Coast undetected.
Round 1: Successes 3, Failures 1
Round 2: Successes 1, Failures 3
Challenge Failed! "Hey, you two." the figure calls out to Tris and Mudball. "Hand over your coin and no one gets hurt." He pulls a butcher knife from his jacket and begins to approach. You recognize that the sound of any fighting will likely be heard... but Tris and Mudball are being mugged! Initiative!
Skills Challenge: Covertly entering The Courtier Coast Goal:To get inside The Courtier Coast undetected
Mudball is up! The Skills Challenge System: (If we don't like this how this works, we'll try something else) A skill challenge works like this.
Davik grins as your plans come to an end and you all pile out to put them into action.
You all manage to find The Courtier Coast without much issue. Finding a safe place to hide, you begin your vigil on the comings and goings of the extablishment. The stars twinkle above, and the torchlight in the streets below does little to fade their twinkles from your rooftop vantage point. A light sea breeze comes in from the west, cold now that the sun is not out to soften it's wet and icy edge. For the next few hours, you watch as nighttime shoppers enter and exit the Sails. Upper-class, and those flush with coin occasionally stop into the building. Groups of women out on the town, a few couples whose men are trying to impress their lady. Even a handful of couples whose lady is dragging along their reluctant man. Dice!:
[spoiler=Dura]You notice some less than well-dressed individuals walk down the street every once in a while, occasionally stopping into random businesses. Mudball:
You notice some less than well-dressed individuals walk down the street every once in a while, occasionally stopping into random businesses.
It appears that they are on some sort of patrol, and keeping an eye for trouble. About 10pm, you hear a voice kindly announcing the closing of his store. You hear a group of ladies laughing as they exit. Dressed in new coats, they talk about each other's choices and how many outfits they can match with the purchase. At the store, the sign from inside turns to "closed", and you can hear the door lock click into place. Fireday, Erastus 1
While public foot-traffic has mostly stopped, rough-looking types are still occasionally seen wandering the streets. Whoever locked the door from inside the establishment has not yet exited. Dura, Mudball:
From the third store, you can hear the faint sound of repetitive soft thuds, and then something falling.
The Skills Challenge: A skill challenge works like this. The DM will determine from players, and communicate what 'The Goal' is. The DM sets a particular DC for skills checks. There will be a set number of "Success"es required before a set number of "Failure"s The players roll initiative. (for PbP the DM will likely roll this for everyone). Whoevers turn it is in initiative, can state what skill they want to use, and describe how their using it (to show why it's a viable choice). A player cannot use the same skill as they did in their previous turn. A player cannot use the same skill as person whose turn it was before them. As an example, in this instance, I would say the goal is to "Infiltrate the building undetected" The goal is 4 successes before 2 failures. The DC is 14.
Dura's turn, he announces he will use Acrobatics to "leap from rooftop to rooftop, and then drop down in front of the Coast so he isn't seen by people on the ground". He rolls a 15. Success Mudball's turn. Dura has used Acrobatics, so that's not available to him. He chooses to use Perception to "see the activities of the roughians and maneuver around their movements. Ducking when they turn, running across when their facing away, etc". He rolls a 9. Failure Tieg's turn. He cannot use Perception since Mudball used it last turn, so he chooses to use Acrobatics, uncreatively mimicking Dura's action. He rolls a 14. Success. Tris's turn. She cannot use Perception, and chooses to use Stealth to hide in shadows while the roughians pass by. She rolls a 15. Success. We are at 3: 1. The next turn decides the outcome.
Depending on his roll, this could go either way. On a success, the party succeeds in their goal, and has secretly infiltrated the building. On a fail, any number of things could happen. I might say something like "the roughians have spotted you, and come to question you about your presence." it might turn into a fight, it might be that you need to regroup and come back another time. It might even be that the guards don't react, but something else happens that you're not expecting. While I recognize this might be slightly slower on PbP, I find this method encourages creative descriptions and allows people to explore how their skills are used.
Dura: You're not too sure about the hours of the The Courtier Coast, but you imagine most businesses in Magnimar that don't cater to night-life activities close by 8pm.
Mudball: The Courtier Coast is an upper-class rival of The Frock and Frolic. It sits near the entrance to the Bazaar of Sails. It is a three storied building. The top floor is a high-class tailor/fitting room, the middle floor displays noble-wear for both genders, and the ground floor is filled with accessories and light-catching baubles to bring in the window-shopper. It is situated on a street corner adjacent to an art store and a sauce vendor. While the business itself is older than you are, it changed ownership about five years ago.
Tiegantm Knowledge (Local): The Courtier Coast is an upper-class rival of The Frock and Frolic. It sits near the entrance to the Bazaar of Sails. It is a three storied building. The top floor is a high-class tailor/fitting room, the middle floor displays noble-wear for both genders, and the ground floor is filled with accessories and light-catching baubles to bring in the window-shopper. It is situated on a street corner, adjacent to an art store, and a sauce vendor. While the business itself is older than you are, it changed ownership about five years ago.
Davik stretches an arm behind him, with his pointer finger extended towards the air. He takes a few more seconds to finish scribbling some thoughts on his paper and then turns to respond. "Ah. Well, I know he has an assistant, much like my trustworthy Corland. But I don't think he has a 'guard' per se." "Businesses in the Sails are under the protection of the Princess, however. Each Starday, her lackies visit the businesses for their protection fee. It's quite reasonable, and up until this industrial treachery, I haven't had cause to be upset about it. Some of her Watch patrol the streets. They blend in fairly well too, seeing as their mostly thugs and street types, not constables of any sort. Keep an eye out for them."
"You'll find The Courtier Coast near the entrance of the Sails". Tris: You haven't heard much of Marouk himself, but recognize the brand's name on many of the upper-class's fashion items. Much more than that of The Frock and Frolic.
Davik's response to Tiegantm is a most ostentatious of smiles. "I didn't have an argument with the princess, Dura. The Princess of the Watch is supposed to be the benefactor of businesses in the Sails. I requested an audience to have her deal with the theft inside the Sails but my request was denied. 'Too busy' they said. The nerve!" He turns to Tris, overly-dramatic grief overtaking his demeanor. "Just a portion of my livelihood! I dreamed up some fantastic women's overcoats. I gathered some pricey material, and threw in some effort with a dash of dreams... only to have my reward taken from me. How you make him pay is up to you, though I'd advise you that getting a coat wet isn't the way to ruin them." "Now I have to dream up a whole new line! I don't doubt I could do it, but it would be easier if my grief was eased." he pauses. "Grief... Yes!" Bolting to a stand, the chair he was sitting in skitters across the floor. The half-elf runs to his desk and grabs a quill and the first piece of paper he can find. He begins to make scribbles and notes.
In the interest of keeping the game humming along, players should "blurt out their questions." and feel free to respond to prior statements.
Marson nods at each of you as your introductions are made. Smiling, he produces a cup of tea from a small serving tray nearby. "Here you are, Tiegantm, as requested." he hands the tiefling a porcelain cup upon a small plate. "If everyone would follow me upstairs, I will announce your presence to the Master." Walking up the stairs, Marson leads you into an upstairs apartment. A spartan room, it contains only the necessaries for occasional rest. A well-sized bed takes up a far corner, as does a writing desk. In the center of the room is a table, surrounded by a a few chairs. Some notes scrawled in various handwriting litter the table. A person sits at the writing desk, his back to you, writing ferverently with quill and ink. Marson clears his throat, "Master Davik, your guests have arrived." "Thank you Corland," the person responds. He crumples the paper he was working on and tosses it into a wastebasket already overflowing with crumpled paper. It rolls off the top of the pile and lands with a silent grace on the floor. "If we need anything, we'll shout down for you. Now off you go." Marson bows his head and slips out of the room gracefully. The person at the desk stands, and turns to survey you. A half-elf, Navaan Davik is the purveyor of The Frock and Frolic. He stands tall, with a lithe build, dark hair in a mess atop his head. Blue eyes and beaming smile greet you. "Welcome friends." he says. A hand brushes away some string left on his tunic. The act seems futile, as the string seems persistent in staying attached. Other signs of a busy day of tailoring are visible on the half-elf. A measuring tape sticks halfway out of his pocket, and some bobby pins are latched through a sleeve as if forgotten. "Please. Take a seat." Grabbing onto the chair at his desk with an ink-stained grasp, he hefts his seat and lifts it from the desk. He walks over and places it at the table. "There, now we can all sit comfortably!" "Now, as you all know, we met through our mutual being used by our... benefactors." He pulls out a bronze badge with a serpent on it. He puts it back under his tunic as you all realize he is speaking about the Apsis Consortium. "That's not to speak ill of our organization of course, it is through our being used that we get purpose and exercise a life of adventure!" He smiles. "But today, I've gathered a small set of you here to ask a personal favor. You do know that the world runs on favors, yes? Good." "Perhaps you've heard news that the Couturier Coast is having a sale? Well, I'll let you in on a little secret. That b$$&$ of a seamster, Alistan Marouk, stole a shipment of mine that was heading out to an Absalom boutique. Now, as you know, I'm an honest business-man-elf, and I can't afford to have word get out that I lost a shipment of goods. And the Princess is so damn distracted that she is refusing an audience with me over some" he scoffs "petty argument. Why! I won't let him profit off my good works! That's where you lot come in." He leans over the table, trying to get closer to everyone. You can smell the breath of someone whose had an onion at lunch and probably a drink since then. "I will deny it if you get caught. But I want you to stop Marouk. I don't want you to hurt him or anything like that, at least not physically. And I don't want you to steal my goods back, if they arrive back at my shop they'll be noticed and someone might think I'm... copying his style. I'm the trendsetter damnit! I don't want that. No... I want you to steal some of his gold, just enough to recoup the costs of my material and effort. Say... 500 gold. He should be good for it. Anything else you can think of to deter customers or make his life slightly more complicated I leave to you." With a nod to himself, he jumps out of his chair and stands behind it, gripping it... ink smearing along the seat's backing. "And for those of you who don't believe the world in favors, I'll pay you with a cut and a deal. For my vengeance, you may keep the majority of my profits, and deliver to me only 100 of the 500 gold. I'll sell you fine custom outfits at material cost, and put in a much needed good word for you with..." and he taps his tunic where the sigil lies beneath. "Questions?"
GM:
"Tea. Sugar? Crackers? Would anyone else like..." his voice trails off as the presence of a fourth person startles him. His arm lurches reflexively under the desk, but stops short when he recognizes the halfling. "My! Don't do that!" he shouts, fear fading into anger. A moment later, relief spreads across his face. "I can see why Master Davik has chosen you... but for gods sakes, could you not scare me out of my skin next time?" He collects himself. "At least you're all here. The master waits upstairs. I know you adventurer types like to know who you're working with, so go ahead and chat. When you're ready, follow me. I will provide refreshments upstairs." He stands upon the bottom of the stairs, motioning you over to follow him.
DM:
Mudball:
You do not see anyone paying you conspicuous amounts of attention. You enter a few moments before the rest of the party. Inside you see a man you recogonize as Davik's assistant, Corland Marson, sitting at a desk. "Ah! You must be here for Master Davik. We've been expecting you. When the rest of you arrive, I'll take you all to see him."
Tris:
You watch as a man in monk's gear glances around and then slips inside the Frock and Frolic. Minutes later, a small figure in leather walks in alongside a scary looking tiefling. You've worked with each of them before when working with Davik. Tieg and Dura:
The only noticable exits are the door you entered, the windows on the same wall, and a staircase on the far side of the building. Mudball waits on the bottom floor with you. A blonde haired man waits behind a desk. Dressed in a fine robe covering what appears to be a fine-fitting and expensive tunic. He stops pouring over a ledger to greet you. Behind him, a circular stairwell ascends to the second floor. What appears to be changing rooms line the northeast corner of the shop. Clothes, measuring rolls, bobby pins, and all the tools of trade for a tailor lay around behind the desk, signs of a busy and profitable day for the tailor. "Ah! more!" says Corland Marson, whom you recognize as Davik's assistant. "The master waits upstairs." He glances around over your shoulders and between the knees of the taller folk. "When the last one gets here, I'll take you all up to meet him. In the mean time, might I get you any refreshments, or I can try to answer any questions you might have." He smiles, "Or, you can peruse the shop if anything interests you. We might be closed, but there's always time for a sale."
I was out of town for pretty much the last two weeks. Onwards!
Sure, there have been previous jobs given to you by Davik. You have worked with other agents as well, and the others of the group. You've never all worked together without other agents before, however. Feel free to color your background as you like.
Sarenith 30, 4716
DM stuff:
For Mudball:
As you walk through the city, people who see you walking down the street move to give you extra berth. While people are hesitant to speak to you, you do hear a few tidbits of local happenings while walking down a crowded market.
An elven tapestry merchant laughs as he tells the story to anyone who will listen of a crazy dwarf making advances on a statue of a human woman elsewhere in the city. A woman explains to what appears to be a boyfriend that the Couturier Coast is having a sale on a lady's overcoats, and that after meeting with his parents, he should do something nice for her. A butcher explains to his coworkers that another man was found dead last week, on the night of the full moon. This is the second full moon where this has happened. Both men had their throats cut. The Princess of the Watch is sending her goons out to try and investigate, but they keep bumping heads with the local watchmen. Tris:
No one seems to notice you as you slide through the city, dodging tall folk, wagon wheels and the eyes of the watch. You arrive at the Frock and Frolic early.
Tieg and Dura:
You all arrive at the road on which the Frock and Frolic is located. Tieg, Dura and Mudball arrive to the area within minutes of each other. Before you stands a small two story building. It shares a wall with a confectioner and an accountant's office. Through the Frock and Frolic's windows you can see an array of bolts of cloth in all sorts of colors. Clothes and mannequins are on display, showing the finest of dress for upper class shoppers. The street lacks the bustle of a busy crowd but there are still a few late shoppers wandering the street. Various shops in the area are closing for the night, or have already closed. The sign on the Frock and Frolic's door indicates it will open again at sunrise.
Tiegantm, can you put the totals of your skills next to them? Otherwise, I have to calculate and hope I didn't miss anything.
Okay, we'll move forward. When she's ready, Alysha can jump in.
I see Alysha tonight, I'll poke at her again.
Sadron continues to play his cymbals, but appears more focused on observing the motions and positioning of the party members as a whole.
Mudball, can you change your profile name from Unnamed Tiefling? ;) We're starting off a little slow, but it would be nice if we can start checking in once a day at least. I tend to take weekends off, but not always. If you can't post for some amount of time, let me know and I'll do what I can to
Here we can chat about out of character things, or gather any clarification needed.
Sarenith 29, 4716 You find yourself within Magnimar, a coastal city within southern Varisia. A warm summer day graced with a cool sea breeze allows for comfortable visits to any of Magnimar's markets, reading of books in one's apartment, pursuit of employment or any other activity one can dream to pursue. When you return to your lodging, you find a note waiting for you. You've seen the handwriting before and recognize the neatly flowing script as belonging to Navaan Davik, a half-elf clothier who has given you opportunities to make coin before. Each letter begins with your name, as if the author has taken the time to craft each missive individually.
Over the last few months while working closely with Davik, your handler into the Consortium, you have noted that he ends his letters with a small hand-drawn snake below his initials. Strangely, it is missing now.
Looking to start a closed game PbP for some friends.
Okay all! Hope the game was fun for you guys (or at least not terrible after I picked it up). Merisiel, thanks for sticking through it!
Congratulations guys and gals! You have succeeded in your quest in recovering the blanket with the mystic's bones. You earned your second prestige point by preventing the way station from burning down. .
Let me know if there's any issues or corrections to be made on them. The session has been reported.
The party turns over the blanket to Osprey, who graciously thanks you. "You have done a service to the Society, and I'm sure you've prevented some terrible fate from befalling Absalom by keeping the bones out of the hands of those Aspis bastards. Good day" He steps out of the building. As you follow him out, he takes a step that never touches the ground. He transforms into a long-winged hawk and takes to the sky, leaving you in the cold, a thousand miles between where you stand and the City at the Center of the World.
Osprey regards Volkard for a moment and responds, "The bones are of the utmost importance in discerning the source of danger that threatens Absalom. If I had had the information to give to you, I would have shared it." "Markavious is it? Yes, you. I cannot offer any promises of the way station's security, but as I understand it, they've been here for some time under the beastmen's shadow. They are simple creatures, and from the stories I heard of the trouncing you gave them, they are like to forget by the time they finish licking their wounds." "If you don't mind..." he holds out an outstretched hand.
The party stays for food and beds, and over the course of a couple days helps to rebuild the damaged areas of the way station, or keep scout for beastmen attacks that do not resolve. A couple days into repairs, the party finds Osprey sitting in front of the way station's hearth, watching the fire spit from logs. "Hello, Pathfinders!" he greets you. "Did you succeed, or did the Aspis take our prize?"
"Normally they don't attack us, especially not in large numbers. Not sure what has them riled up so much right now. Better safe than sorry though, and having you around will make everyone feel safer." the bearded man responds to Markavious.
Rolling, Rolling, Rolling...:
Jory recovers from his dry-heaving. Volkard, there are many injured from the beastmen, but thanks to the party's intervention, those that weren't outright killed in the attack's initial moments were saved from grievous harm. The remainder of the party aids in fighting the fire, Merisiel and Markavious grabbing buckets and throwing them on the walls. The enlarged flying witch drags a trough through the air, and overturns it on the flaming roof. The water douses the flames on the top. Inside, Merisiel helps Rysam extinguish the flames. Combat Over. Rysam huffs momentarily, and slaps Merisiel on the back. "Thank you lass! Without your help, Cania's Drop would surely be lost!" Similar sentiments are shared to the fire-fighting heros outside. Rysam shouts to a gathering crowd as he hears stories of the fight and the timely intervention of the party. "We are forever in your debt." As the crowd celebrates, he takes the party aside for a moment. "Also, if you don't mind... the way station needs some repairs, you could help us further. Or at least help prevent any beastmen attacks. It would be appreciated.
The Rolls!:
An enlarged Sharna moves towards a water trough that the way station uses for the dog teams while Merisiel continues to fight the fire. Tyrion easily notices flames on the roof and an exterior wall, and uses a spell to rain down on the flames, dousing them substantially. The fire still continues to try and grow. The Stinking Cloud disperses. Actions All Players?
The Rolls!:
Volkard and Markavious keep wary eyes but see no other threats. Merisiel catches a bucket from one of the other people in the way station and helps to fight the fire. Sharna rises into the air. The fire still rages, diminished where water has doused flames, but still trying to grow. Actions, All Players? |
