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My apologies; I thought I'd posted here before I left. My wife's parents are both ill and we've been dealing with hospital stuff and trying to get them set up in long-term care. I'll be out of town for several more days, should return late Friday. I do finally have a laptop with me though so will try to get back in the swing. Again, sorry for the disappearance.
Apologies for absence -- lousy week.
Sasha finishes counting her coins and dividing them between herself and Merelda. "I need some sleep, I think," she says, at her suggestion. "There are a couple of places I know that would be quieter than this place to talk in the morning. But I'd feel bad leaving Ron to keep being tormented by this thing … even if he was mostly useless tonight."
Back in town; will catch up tonight
Just a heads-up that I'm traveling for the next few days and weather has been a mess so far. Online access will be intermittent; feel free to autopilot or direct Sasha as needed.
Sasha takes her due from the till and looks for Merelda. In truth she hadn't been certain about following through with the Elf's inquiry for tales of the city, but after the past few hours she could use a drink, if there was a place still open and quiet — or quiet, at least. She notices Pollux standing with the rest of the group and arches an eyebrow. She'd had had that one pegged as creepy loner, but turns out she was only half right. "So Yellow's with that group?" she asks Merelda. "They don't seem like the usual crowd, either."
Sasha's eyes widen in revelation at Merelda's remarks. "That'd explain a bit," she replies, and nods to Ron at the other end of the bar, still rubbing his eyes. "I found him fast asleep back there, probably put that way by a spell. He says it's happened before, so it's probably not that crew," at that, she gestures to the others. "And honestly this place has been too much of a madhouse tonight to be natural."
What time is it? Is it bad out there? "You've been gone maybe an hour. Seems like a sleeping spell, or something like it. Things are … well, busy. That's Merelda. She's … " she points just as that corner of the bar explodes in profanity. "…helping?"
Once Ron is back on his feet, Sasha waits a moment and follows Pollux out into the bar, where she catches Merelda's eye when she can. "Thanks for covering; the boss will be back in a minute," she says. "But could you keep an eye on that creep?" Then she remembers what kind of bar this is turning out to be. "The creep in yellow. Caught 'em nosing around the kitchen talking about enchanters or something."
Sasha shakes her head as the stranger leaves, then helps Ron get to his feet. "You all right? We could use you out there; things are getting a bit much … I had to have one of the customers help out. That's her shouting, I think." Headed back into the bar, she waves at Merelda. "You said this had happened before? And that … weird guy … said something about sleep magic. These oysters of yours; they're OK, right?"
"I don't kn … who? WHAT?" Sahsa, preoccupied with shaking Ron awake, is unaware of the intruders until the bar owner actually points them out. She scrambles backward — not far in the tight kitchen — and lays hold of an empty wine bottle. "Ron, this guy do something to you?" she asks, but it didn't seem that way, not if this … whatever it was … had happened before. A bit calmer, she resets her face with the expression she uses at closing time. "Look you, maybe we can't keep every rat out of the place but the kitchen's not for customers. You want turnips, order 'em like a normal person. Out there." She points with the wine bottle.
”Ron!” Sasha hustles forward and rolls the body over, listening for a heartbeat and murmuring words of hope and encouragement.
Sasha scowls at the oaf's comments to Merelda, but isn't quite sure which of them she's worried about. The woman clearly had a temper, and had spoken of her mother as a devotee of Calistria — Sasha had heard some toe-curling tales about them. Then she spies another customer interfering — things could go wrong three or four ways at this point. And where was Ron? She steps into the back room and shouts for him. "Ron! If you're going to have me actually run the place you should know I've hired somebody already."
Sasha stares at Merelda for a moment, a bit flummoxed by her audacity. She'd never let this sort of this fly in her bar … but then, this isn't her bar. And with Ron still gone to who-knows-where and a packed house that's dangerously close to getting more angry than drunk, gods knew she should use the help. "Done!" she shouts. "Just do drinks, though. Apparently we're out of oysters."
Sasha moves to Merelda's table to clean up the spilled food. "If the ale's not for you I can look for some wine; I can't speak for that either but it will taste different," she says. It's clear the bar is growing more tense — though it seems more the usual sort of bar arguments rather than politics, which if nothing else is a change of pace. Still, it's getting a bit much for one person. She pushes her way through back through crowd to the edge of the back kitchen and shouts for Ron. "We could use hands more than oysters here!"
She thinks for a moment. "Lars Naiall," she says decisively. "Bad news, no question. But I don't know if he even comes to this bar; I've only been working here for …" she looks out the window, judges the light. "Two hours, give or take. But if I see him, I'll let you know." She goes to collect their orders.
Sasha tilts her head, a bit thrown by the earnestness in the plea — moreso, at any rate, than by the hand pat, which was positively tame compared to some bars she'd been in. The new Lord Mayor's edicts hadn't been in place yet long enough to suspect everyone of being a snitch or spy for House Throne, [I[though things seem headed in that direction,[/I] Sasha thought grimly. Still, an obvious outsider — one talking of a forbidden faith, no less — would seem an unlikely choice of an informant. "Maybe when my shift winds down," she replies. "Burly Ron's got a rule against political talk, and even if the customers don't follow it, I'd better if I want to keep my job."
”Too many good stories in Elven not to learn a bit,” Sasha replies. ”And I wouldn’t say easy to read, but you did call Ron “burly mustache guy.” The corners of her mouth drop at mention of the city. ”Yes, it’s changed a lot, and quickly, too. I think your mother would have plenty of company.” She spies Ron beckoning again. “I’m Sasha; let me know if Burly or I can get you anything else.”
The Red Pike hadn’t been a political bar either … until suddenly it was, and the varied crowds that had mingled happily retreated to separate tables, then corners. Things got worse from there. That was the vibe she was getting here; maybe all bars were like that now. Maybe all places were. Which made the elf stand out, even apart from her mere presence. She seemed to be a faction to herself. Fetching the order from the cook, she delivers the oysters to Merelda and, after a moment to recognize the elven, smiles in response. ”Thank you! Everyone here’s too angry for compliments these days.” She leans on the chair back, scanning the crowd. ”You’re new. I mean I’m new here too, but I can tell You’re new.”
Both good options. Or her place could've been temporarily shuttered for serving mint juleps or something and she's working here 'til things get sorted out.
Hello, Sasha here! Very excited to join, and I'll second the being really impressed about the rebellion upkeep.
Still tweaking the mechanics a bit but have the questions answered Questions: What drove you against the current rulership of Kintargo? That’s the wrong question. It’s the rulership that turned against Kintargo. House Thune doesn’t understand the city’s spirit, so it seeks to unmake it. If they aren’t going to leave, they should’ve just left us alone. What stops you from simply leaving for a better nation like Absalom, Andoran or Varisia?
She holds up the in her hand. “This is from a winery not far from here. It was founded by a nephew of Tiverius, he took some cuttings from the original vineyard to set up his own operation. She sips. “It’s … fine.” Sasha puts down the glass. “You see what I’m saying, right? Same grapes, different land, worse wine. Everything has a place where it belongs; everything has its home. Kintargo is mine.” A loved one has been captured. You were promised their safe return in exchange for betraying your comrades. What form will your betrayal take?
“But you know what I really love?” She points to a barstool. “I love the people who sit down sad and stand up singing. I love the smell of Yolubilis, and the first crier on the street in the morning. House Thune’s captured all that, and they’re not giving it back, no matter what I give up.” You are transporting a cartload of contraband in a public street when a pair of bored guards stop you talking about passage fees, potential fines and a requirement to search your cart. What do you do?
“If they’re outsiders, well … hopefully they’ll take a bribe. Nobody wants a riot. “ Someone you fancy has finally agreed on a day out on the town just you and them. However an important meeting in your organization is being held at the same time and you found out after the date was set. What do you do?]
Your life's nemesis is at your mercy. But his close family nearby bega for his life. Do you spare him? Or ia some other outcome more favorable?
Without describing their job, name, or appearance tell me who you're character is.
I had made Sasha Leonid, Psychic Searcher Streets Oracle, for another Hell's Rebels game that didn't come together. (I'd have to level her down for this but wouldn't need much tweaking.) Loosely based on Sascha the bartender from Casablanca, where they had a nice little resistance movement going by the end even without Rick.
Possibly too late but I’ll put in Sasha, a bartender very hooked into the zeitgeist. (Either a streets oracle or alley witch, kicking around some mechanics) My Hell’s Rebels submissions all seem to be based on minor Casablanca characters, who had a decent insurgency group going by the end. |
