Sillitta Ederus's page

Sil gladly takes the coin from Josquin, stuffing it into an already bulging apron pocket. She curtsies. "Thy will be done m'lord," she says before returning to conversation with Boony and Krovak.

Greetings my fellow Andorans. I am Sillitta Ederus, though, these days, I also answer to Sil, a simpler name to be sure. I was raised in the home of wealthy Chelaxian parents in Absalom and attended the arcane academy at Egorian. I was poised to take my rightful place at the head of my family's merchant house, poised to grow rich from the labor of slaves bought and sold as dumb beasts.

My destiny, though, was destroyed. During my last year at the arcane academy, a moment of indiscretion cost me my freedom, my very humanity. Details? You want details? Allow me, then, to explain. Competition at the arcane academy is intense. In an effort to gain advantage over my classmates, I sought to acquire a certain iron brazier, a device used in the summoning of devils and creatures of elemental fire. I was caught in the act by the owner of the iron brazier, one of my own beloved professors. In a fit of rage, the man hauled me before the other professors and the students of the arcane academy. Judgement was passed and, moments later, my sentence was executed. I was expelled, stripped of my spellbook, then magically transformed into the lowly form that I wear to this day.

I am thankful to the powers that be at the academy that I was at least returned to my parents household in Absalom. My parents as you might imagine did not hold the warmest welcome for me. I was, after all, now a halfling, a mere slip. I feared for a moment that they might simply have me killed or sold far away, but I believe that they still love me, or did at that point. They turned me over to an older halfling couple who had toiled in our household for years, that I might learn the lessons of my new station in life and some skill useful to a slave.

With time, my anger faded to acceptance. True, I missed my long slender legs, my dainty feet and the fine slippers that once adorned them. I missed commanding slaves and arcane energies. It's this last, the wielding of magic, that I missed most. Power, especially magical power, is addicting. I sat up each night, after my chores were finished, after I should have been asleep, trying to recreate my lost spellbook from memory. Much to my frustration, I could fully recall only one simple spell, a cantrip for reading aracne text.

As fate would have it, that one spell proved enough. My younger sister had followed in my footsteps, studying wizardry in Egorian. On her triumphant return to Absalom, a feast had been prepared in her honor. Her feast however was interrupted by a band of Andoran abolitionists. I must admit, at the time, I thought them all raving lunatics. My halfling foster parents had taught me to sieze any opportunity, so I stole my sister's spellbook and allowed myself to be carried to freedom by the Andorans.

Shortly after my liberation, I was asked by the Andorans to join their cause. Initially, I refused, choosing instead to seek work as a maid, a simple servant, so as to not draw unwanted attention to myself or my adopted parents. As I scurried about, offering drinks and cucumber sandwiches to guests at a Taldoran garden party, I again ran into one of the Andoran agents responsible for my hard-won freedom (what he was doing at the garden party, I am still uncertain). He seemed so disappointed in me. I tried to explain that at least I was no longer a slave, that I was at least working for wages. This impressed him very little, and he again offered me a cause. I begrudgingly accpeted and was quickly introduced to more of my new Andoran brethren, as well as the Pathfinder Society.

I participated in all four adventures, and had a blast with all of them. I agree that some of the combats were tough, but actually took the most damage from a mook at the start of Hydra's Fang. I guess I need to learn that a halfling wizardess should not leap headlong into melee. Still, none of the groups that I was in lost a character.

A ringing endorsement that I can offer is that PFS caused me to stick around later on Sunday afternoon than any of the other years that I have attended Gen Con (I had to play that last scenario). It was well-worth it.

I'd also like to give a shout out to the Taldoran that saved my life during Murder on the Silken Caravan. I thought sure I was going to lose my head (or at least a hand) when I was caught hanging seditious documents in the marketplace. Don't worry friend, your secret is safe with me.

OOC Good night...Was loads of fun.

OOC That sucks, would be awesome to RP with you all in person.

Sil struggles to her feet and staggers toward the door, the damp cloth still atop her head. Sil raises a clenched fist as she stumbles out of the building and shouts, "For Andoran! For freedom!" just before puking on her feet. "Damn Egorian wine."

OOC Are any of you guys on now going to be at Gen Con?

OOC very cool how you guys are all chatty and helpful when speaking Common, but downright creepy when you speak Infernal. I love it.

Sil tries to focus on the moth mask, but her vision is still blurred by the nutty Egorian wine. Overwhelmed, she stretches out on the ground and covers her eyes with teh damp cloth. "Just need to sleep."

Sil stops pounding on Mothman and allows herself to be lowered to te ground, taking the washcloth with a word of "thanks."

OOC This has quickly become surprisingly interesting.

Sil awakes, horrified to find herself slung over the shoulder of a running man. "Put me down you Chelaxian cur," she cries, pounding on the man's back.

Unconcious, Sil is plagued by nightmares in which she is chastened by devils and her own sister, a Chelaxian summoner.

"Andoran!" Sil cheers again as she runs into wall immediately adjacent to the exit, collapsing unconcious.

With the help of Lazaro, Sil gathers her wits and struggles to her feet. Stumbling toward the door, she shouts, "I'm free...Escaping...For Andoran."

Sil, face buried in the comfy chair, pummels the piece of furniture with small fists and overly large feet. "You'll never take me alive. I'm free...free now...not a slave."

Sil continues to struggle against the wine and the comfy chair, not even realizing that the host is talking to her.

Sil looks around frantically, having lost site of Boony. "Sweet Erastil, I've got to get out of here, lest I end up in a cage, shipped back to Egorian."

Sil struggles desperately to get out of the way oversized chair, a captive of the intoxicating wine.

Sil pats the comfortable chair next to her. "Well then my friend, have a seat. I might have been noble by birth, but am certainly noble no longer. Besides, Boony's going to fight the Growler."

For a moment, Sil allows herself to slip back to a time when she herself was a well-to-do Chelaxian lady, a time before the dreadful debacle at the university, a time before she was transformed into a halfling.

"Yes, yes, I think I will have some fruit, and bring it quickly."

"Well, there's an Andoran party, or more of a meeting really. Lots of talk about revolution and abolition. Lots of business, very little pleasure, assuming you're looking for a party party."

Sil smacks her own face in frustartion at being mistaken for Boony's daughter, then points to her oversized, furry feet. "Halfling."

"Boony, what's a growler?" Hiccup.

"Come on Boony, you've got to try the wine," Sil says. Turning to the host, "I'll pass on the meat. I heard a dreadful rumor about it earlier."

Sil turns to Elaksynder and whispers out loud, the wine already taking its toll on her small body, "neither, I believe my friend is looking for a boxing match, you know, fisticuffs."

Sil turns to Boony as she relaxes in a comfortable chair, crossing her legs and kicking one furry foot in the air. "Well maybe it's okay to stay here...just long enough for one glass of wine. It's so good."

Sil shakes her head, even as doubt forces its way into her voice. "It has been so long since I've had Chelaxian wine. I simply adore the nutty undercurrents of Egorian vintages. Maybe...I'll have just a...one glass."

Tugs at Boony's sleeve. "I don't know, things look to be winding down here. Maybe we should just go back to the garden party."

Sil quickly ducks her head as a couple of young Chelaxian women stroll by. "Trying not to be seen, remember?"

Sil comes running in, trying to keep up with Boony, and winces when she hear's him mention a boxing match. "So not what I signed up for."

Sil nudges the ground with one of her overly large toes as she makes conversation with Boony. "Yeah, the Chelaxians are having a barbecue. I hear it's a good time, but I'm trying to keep my distance. I'm afraid I might run into someone who knew me, well before I got polymorphed into a halfling. It's kinda embarassing."

Sil looks at Boony, slightly confused (perhaps from sampling the Taldoran wine she had been serving throughout the night). "Another drink or another one of me?" she finally asks.

Sil takes a step closer to the half-orc and nods in mock satisfaction. 'I'm allying myself with a Taldoran half-orc. I have fallen on hard times,' she thinks to herself, but remains silent.

OOC I came so close to playing Sil still as a loyal Chelaxian, trying desparately to do everything she can to regain her human form. Who knows if I will change my mind before actual play begins.

Sil redirects her gaze to Anastasius, not sure what to make of the silver-tongued man. 'Would I have known better how to handle him when I wore a human form?' she wonders to herself.

Sil spits at Radvel's feet. "As much as I would love to have my old body back, I'm done with Cheliax and its damnable contracts."

"University of Cheliax, no thanks. I was a student there once, before they polymorphed me into a halfling and expelled me. No desire to go back."

Not a very convincing liar, Sil stutters something about, "uh, I, uh, dropped...something...uh, a cucumber sandwich, yeah a cucumber sandwich. I was just down there picking it up. Didn't want to ruin any fine Taldoran shoes, you know..."

Angry at being called a spy, but absolutely incensed about being called eerie, Sil shoots to her oversized feet, striking her head on the table above in the progress. She emerges, rubbing her aching noggin, tears starting to well up in her eyes, and...just stares at Boony.

Relieved of her burden, Sil sighs and takes a seat under the table at Krovak's feet. Tugging on the half-orc's pants, she whispers, "if you see any of the party's hosts, give me a nudge...don't want to get caught sitting down on the job you know. Oh, and please try not to hit anyone with this table, at least while I'm sitting here."

Sil climbs to the top of a barstool. "Cheers."

Sil lifts the tray higher toward Anastasius, struggling slightly under its weight, silently urging him to help himself to a sandwich or two...and quickly.

OOC: I was purchasing equipment and realized just how little a halfling with a strength of 8 can carry.

OOC: So, who's going to be at Gen Con to show Radavel and the other Chelaxians what it means to be free men (and women...and halflings)?

I bring Profession (Servant) +1 to the table.

Sil scurries towad Anastasius and Krovak bearing a platter full of yet more cucumber sandwiches. "Sandwiches, m'lords," she says casting a sideways glance at the now defunct infernal device. "I hope that man from Galt is not too sad about his fireworks."

Sil sits down on a comfortable chair next to the newcomer, tucking her furry feet up beneath her. "For me freedom is defined by what the free choose to do with it. For example, you are happy to indulge in spiced meat and smoke. My fellow Andorans and I choose to bring freedom to those who don't have it. I'll not judge which is the more noble calling...mostly because I'd like to have a taste of some of that spiced meat. I've heard good stuff about it to be sure."

Turns to Krovak with mock surprise. "So, you just slapped him in the face with a table? Did he get up from that?"

Sil pockets the coin and flashes a smile at the man, revealing an obviously Chelaxian face, an odd contrast to her halfling's body. With a word of "thanks," she starts to walk away, but then pauses for a moment to talk. "So, are you guys looking to get into it with some Chelaxians?"

Sil pauses for a moment, taking her time at clearing some soiled plates from a nearby table, hoping to catch a bit more of the conversation about recent conflict with Chelaxians.

Sil glances down at her simple servant's frock. 'How far I've fallen,' she thinks, as she raises her head and resumes serving drinks.

Sil scurries on padded bare feet to the side of the starngely accented man. She manages a half curtsey while balancing the tray of drinks on one hand, before finally offering him a goblet. "Your wine, m'lord."