I am sorry to do this, but events have overtaken me and I must withdraw from this game.
Please retire my character.
Search Posts
I'll vote Derick.
Valai sights the nearest thief who is still standing upright, and just waves her hands at them in a brusque, dismissive gesture.
Valai tries to home in on the sound of the spellcaster. As soon as she is at least slightly certain of where he might be, she extends a hand in his direction and casts magic of her own!
What? But - it isn't my turn, is it? 0_0; Aw, dangit, not again!
"Point me at an enemy," Valai says, thrusting out a hand. "Help me aim!"
I think I should be the one apologizing. :-/
I did show you the link to my d20, right? 0_0;
"I can't see!" Valai hisses. "Anyone? Anyone at all?"
Hmm. All I get when I hit that link is "not authorized".
It'll have to be tomorrow... but I do have a d20 login identity; Droviz D.
Valai's look at Nessa is nothing short of ... clinical. It is one of those looks you are sure capture every detail without attaching any real emotion or judgment to the information stored. "Do excuse," the Elfmaid replies to the invitation. "But that is not the kind of service I was employed for. And also, it is not the kind of service I am looking for at this time."
Valai descends from the stage as Nessa ascends, twitching the black folds of her robes out of the "succubi"'s way. Trailing wisps of black fog as her robes return to red-rimmed white, the Elf walks around the room, looking in on games, casually making ordinary buttons to shine like emeralds and coins to chime like bells as she makes the rounds. "Do excuse," she murmurs as she sweeps past Zoja, casually glancing at her cards. With a sardonic smile and a gesture, she briefly makes the Aasimar's hair shine like burnished gold, and then she moves on again.
Valai beckons two of the serving girls to her - ones appointed to assist her by Vancaskerkin - and whispers in their ears: "Just dance. I'll do the rest." The now black-clad Elf conjures eerie vapours and lights out of thin air, directing them around the 'succubi' while they twist and turn. At odd intervals, she conjures sounds out of nowhere; blasts of music, voices, animal sounds. At the Elf's direction, coins abruptly turn black, then back to shining metal; people's clothes change colour; all manner of little things happen while the Illusionist continues to enhance the girls' performance, attracting attention to the dance.
Negotiations: "Give me a pair of girls and a stick with a skull on it, and I'd make a fairly convincing necromancer, instead," Valai offers. "I'll put on a show, never fear. But the first thing to do is make the punters look at me, and that means I need to stand out a bit from the rest of the staff. Other than that, you have a deal."
The Elf spits in the palm of her hand and holds it out to Saul...
Valai casually snaps her fingers, and her robes flare sanguine red, then deepen to funereal black. "Valai Darkrune. I think we should talk business." Private discussion: As soon as Valai and Saul have some privacy, the charm and the smile vanish, replaced by glacial serenity.
"Let us not mince words. The function of a casino is to squeeze the punters for their money, not reward them for thinking they can get rich for little effort. The more distractions you have for them, the more "entertainment" diverts their attention from what they are doing, the better it is for business. You have drinks. You have girls in revealing clothes. You have set them against each other to gamble. I can put on a show, spin illusions and noises to further break their concentration. You should employ me. I'll make them divide their attention from the games, and they'll cheer to see me do it."
Valai collects her pay and tucks it away.
"Such a show we are seeing already, my dears," she says. "Aren't we just. But there are shows and shows. Do let your master know there is a lady here who wishes to make a business proposition that has naught to do with the bedroom. And I'll have a beer while I wait for him. Such lovely girls. Off you go."
"Buy a golden touch of luck?" Valai suggests to the people around her. "A touch of silver for a touch of gold, hey-o!" An unseen trumpet rings out behind a typical-looking punter, as if to salute his chances of winning, and more golden dust spills from the Elf's hands. "Can't hurt, can't hurt! Come try it," the Illusionist says, grinning.
After the Elf's travels, Riddleport had been ... interesting in some ways. The city was a cesspit by refined standards. Valai did not care too much about that, except she resented having her affairs interrupted by back-alley muggers and people suggesting all kinds of 'work' she had no interest in.
Perhaps. But there would be no laboratory, nor a properly bound presentation of notes, unless she acquired a stable situation. That meant work. Casting cantrips in the street for the urchins, collecting pennies to pay for meagre lodgings and even more meagre meals, simply did not suffice. Valai had to find a better venue for her ability to wring payment from the minutiae of her art. Luck, the young Elf firmly believed, was an illusion among illusions. Reality was a bedrock of rules, if only one had the mental fortitude to seek them out and know them. But like all rocks, it was potentially harmful to the mind if one battered into it again and again. And so mortal minds toyed with illusion, just to be able to stand life and reality.
In other words, there was a long line of punters, waiting to be dazzled by illusions of many kinds, waiting to be fooled and exploited by those who stood to make the real money; the ones who ran this Golden Goblin.
On the day of the grand event, the young Elf made her way to the Golden Goblin and started her routine in full sight of the massing customers and, more importantly, in full sight of the doors.
Dotting! ^_^ Thanks for choosing Valai for your arcane needs.
Here's a late entry: Valai Darkrune. I have the crunch and fluff worked out in this profile; all I still need to do is buy equipment. You can read the lengthy backstory in spoilers at the bottom of the profile. ^_^ |