Support NeoGAF

[Tubobutts]

Im not stabling my horse. I'm riding it everywhere. A Steppelander without a horse is like a wizard with only one chin.

The joy of finally having a horse again fades as I remember what happened at the fort.

"Yes. Your problems are larger than illegal Vasces harvesting. You should send a force to the fort and destroy it and everything around and under it."

Id like to note that if possible, Thrakdur is remaining mounted during this conversation, passive-aggressively trying to be taller than the Admiral

 

[sproutella]

"You're suspicions are correct, our inspection of the Fort was not without resistance, but not by the forces you briefed us on. No, we were not met by Steppelanders, but rather by merefolk and hideous constructs powered by apostate magic. Thrakdur is correct in his estimation of the danger of the forces at work here."

I pause for a moment to collect my thoughts about all the forces at play here. I want the Admiral to know first and foremost the danger of the magic at work here. As for the fates of the Steppelanders, I'm not sure the Admiral needs to know the whole truth about them, that might get in the way of what actions need to be taken. Besides, that is more Thrakdur's place to decide what the Admiral will think of this Shorn Cult.

"A warlock of some power had managed to prey on a tribe, convincing them, possibly by foul magicks, to be used as sacrifice for the creation of golem constructs as well as a summoning ritual. Vasces was likely intended as a reagent in the rituals, but it did no good for the tribe, as they were left sucked dry of all their vital force. The summoning ritual, which we believe we managed to avert at least in part, was for the Demon Shorn."

 

[justjim89]

"This was a lot more serious than some illegal vasces smuggling, I'm afraid. Something much more sinister is at play here, and I fear we've only seen the tip of the iceberg, as it were," I say, leaning against a dock post. I look towards my companions, and then back towards The Admiral. "We do, however, have something of a lead. We have reason to believe a man clad in a patchwork-like cloak has something to do with all this. We saw a man befitting that description as we fled the ruckus of the tea house that night, as well. Forgive me if this is insolent, but would you have any intelligence on such a man?"

 

[Jintor]

Im not stabling my horse. I'm riding it everywhere. A Steppelander without a horse is like a wizard with only one chin.

The joy of finally having a horse again fades as I remember what happened at the fort.

"Yes. Your problems are larger than illegal Vasces harvesting. You should send a force to the fort and destroy it and everything around and under it."

Id like to note that if possible, Thrakdur is remaining mounted during this conversation, passive-aggressively trying to be taller than the Admiral

As you trot towards her, the Admiral turns back to the harbour and unfurls herself futher upwards from what you thought to be her full height, her clothes rippling and billowing in the wind as she gracefully seeks a higher vantage point. She is not quite your height on Horse, Thrakdur, but it's a close thing. Though she doesn't seem to notice she is even in competition.

"That seems extreme, Steppelander, and somewhat impractical," she murmurs, raising one hand to shade out the sun from her eyes. "What exactly did you all find?"

"You're suspicions are correct, our inspection of the Fort was not without resistance, but not by the forces you briefed us on. No, we were not met by Steppelanders, but rather by merefolk and hideous constructs powered by apostate magic. Thrakdur is correct in his estimation of the danger of the forces at work here."

I pause for a moment to collect my thoughts about all the forces at play here. I want the Admiral to know first and foremost the danger of the magic at work here. As for the fates of the Steppelanders, I'm not sure the Admiral needs to know the whole truth about them, that might get in the way of what actions need to be taken. Besides, that is more Thrakdur's place to decide what the Admiral will think of this Shorn Cult.

"A warlock of some power had managed to prey on a tribe, convincing them, possibly by foul magicks, to be used as sacrifice for the creation of golem constructs as well as a summoning ritual. Vasces was likely intended as a reagent in the rituals, but it did no good for the tribe, as they were left sucked dry of all their vital force. The summoning ritual, which we believe we managed to avert at least in part, was for the Demon Shorn."

That gets her attention. "A warlock? Merfolk? The Demon Shorn? Most troublesome," she says, turning to face you all once more, her expression crinkling. "Sacrifices and golem constructs... This is a mage's matter, is it not?"

After a moment, she says, almost to herself, "The timing on Yenikapi's withdrawal from assistance is most... concerning. We may have to... hmmm."

"This was a lot more serious than some illegal vasces smuggling, I'm afraid. Something much more sinister is at play here, and I fear we've only seen the tip of the iceberg, as it were," I say, leaning against a dock post. I look towards my companions, and then back towards The Admiral. "We do, however, have something of a lead. We have reason to believe a man clad in a patchwork-like cloak has something to do with all this. We saw a man befitting that description as we fled the ruckus of the tea house that night, as well. Forgive me if this is insolent, but would you have any intelligence on such a man?"

She shakes her head. "No information regarding such a fellow has reached me as of late," she says. "But, of course, I am officially here as part of the Navy, and thus have nothing much to do with criminal matters. Nor have any rumours come to me - though, of course, a man in patchwork is not such an uncommon thing in this city."

"Nonetheless," - she claps her hands - "You have indeed fulfilled your end of the contract. If you would be so kind as to debrief Lt. Reichert in full, we may proceed to pay you all in full." She holds up a hand. "You need not worry, Magister Deken; Magister Reichert, the Lieutenant's father, is entering Xingchu Harbour as we speak. He will meet us within the hour."

The Admiral turns back to the harbour, and it seems to you all as if she is... not precisely as calm and collected as she seemed when you arrived, though it doesn't exactly show. "Now, please excuse me; I must continue my communion. If the Demon Shorn is indeed attempting an incursion, then I must turn to the homeland for advice..."

---

After you debrief Lt. Reichert extensively on the fort and its inhabitants, she hands you each (apart from Deken) a small pouch containing 66 coins. "My father will be here quite soon," she mentions to Deken, smiling, "but I expect there will be some ceremonial nonsense we have to do first. I suspect this isn't just a social call, either... in any case, Magister, pray return quickly, if you wish to leave. Or you can stay here and wait; the Admiral is currently unavailable, but I would like to hear your thoughts on our... cultist problem."

The rest of you are free to go or stay as you please - flanked, of course, by an escort within the grounds of Admirality - this is still a military institution! Only Deken seems to have a current appointment, after all. What do you do?

 

[Jintor]

On a side note, while not much is going on:

Ein, tell me about your wife. What was she like, anyway? And what happened to her?

Waymore, what are you gonna do with all your ill-gotten gains, anyway?

Serrick, did you try and talk to any spirits in Xingchu? What was the response like?

Deken and Thrakdur are getting a lot of mileage out of their backstories right now, but I need more material to work with for the others.

 

[Bowlie]

I'll let my friends decide whether to stay or not. Since the Admiral didn't ask more details from these "merfolk", I'm led to believe that that race isn't unheard of, and that eased my heart already. At least nature is responsible for it... I wish I can learn more about them, though.

---

No, not yet; urban environments make me not comfortable enough to try it. Though I haven't been to the great parks yet. Probably remnants from before the city's construction, someone should still be there.

 

[Jintor]

At least nature is responsible for it... I wish I can learn more about them, though.

Perhaps Serrick doesn't know much of them, but Isolde does - she's fought them before, though never in suits. "Mage's magic," she sniffs. "Of course, they only venture forth in storms and fogs, normally... most devious."

How about you tell me what she knows about them?

 

[justjim89]

Waymore, what are you gonna do with all your ill-gotten gains, anyway?

I bid my companions a goodbye for the evening, telling them of the tavern where they can find me if needed. And with that, I head to the Winking Wyvern in pursuit of both knowledge and beverage. A few coins towards a few drinks shall make for a much-needed break after the trip into the ruined keep. The Barkeep, Basso, knows a little bit about everybody. He ought to know something about the patchwork fellow.

As far the rest of my monetary gains, it'll likely sit and gather dust, as most of my coin tends to. I've never really stole out of greed, but for the thrill of a job well done. The challenge of a risky heist. The rush when I slip in and out of a seemingly impenetrable place completely undetected. Some are bound to go towards food and drink, equipment repairs, supplies, and the like. The various trivial necessities of the day to day. But the vast majority of coin I've ever gotten I never spent. Before my stay aboard the prison ship, I had quite a fortune saved in case of emergency in hidden room beneath an abandoned barn on the outskirts of a small coastal city. Over ten thousand coins, jewels, and other extravagances. By the time I escaped and returned to that, barn though, it was all gone. Easy come, easy go, I suppose. Whoever took it likely made more use of it than I would have.

Still, should I ever amass that large of a fortune again, putting some of it towards a small property and a house wouldn't be a bad idea. I can't sneak past father time, and should I live to be an old man, it'd be a bit embarrassing to have nothing to show for a lifetime of masterful stealing. So a home of my own would be nice, at some point.

 

[Jintor]

I bid my companions a goodbye for the evening, telling them of the tavern where they can find me if needed. And with that, I head to the Winking Wyvern in pursuit of both knowledge and beverage. A few coins towards a few drinks shall make for a much-needed break after the trip into the ruined keep. The Barkeep, Basso, knows a little bit about everybody. He ought to know something about the patchwork fellow.

The Winking Wyvern is not the most popular of haunts before the sun completely sets, but the hulking, bearded Basso is behind the counter, ready for anyone who should wander in. He grins widely as you push open the saloon-style doors, a shot of whiskey appearing as from nowhere before him. "Waymore, you damnable rogue!" he laugh-shouts, the glee evident on his huge face. "And I thought you'd perished down at Hangman's. Should've known not to trust the babble of idiots."

He slides the whiskey to you before you can even open your mouth; it skids to a stop, not a drop spilled. "On the house," he says, before you can say anything, pouring himself a shot with a dexterity you remember of old, and holds up the glass. "To absent friends."

Waymore, what do you do? (And who is he talking about?)

Getting risky information out him will be a Hit the Street.

 

[Tubobutts]

"You Imperials have a strange way of counting where 33 and 66 adds up to 100"

I want to go back to the area around the Braying Mare. Both to buy a proper Steppelander bow and to see if anything has changed. If any of my companions don't have anything else to do I would welcome them coming along.

 

[sproutella]

"My father will be here quite soon," she mentions to Deken, smiling, "but I expect there will be some ceremonial nonsense we have to do first. I suspect this isn't just a social call, either... in any case, Magister, pray return quickly, if you wish to leave. Or you can stay here and wait; the Admiral is currently unavailable, but I would like to hear your thoughts on our... cultist problem."

"I'll gladly wait for your father here," I say returning the smile, "The problem wasn't so much the cultists as it was the malevolent wizard(s) using them for their own ends, they are the true threat."

"Now tell me, how does a daughter of a mage end up an officer in the Imperial Navy? I'm not sure how comfortable I'd be with my children in the military."

 

[Jintor]

"You Imperials have a strange way of counting where 33 and 66 adds up to 100"

Isolde mutters under her breath, face flushed with embarassment. "I'll have a word with the quartermaster," she saids, her face severe. "The Imperium upholds its contracts properly... well, it's supposed to, anyway. In the meantime, please take this with my apologies."

Apart from Deken you all get another 2 coin.

Oops.

I want to go back to the area around the Braying Mare. Both to buy a proper Steppelander bow and to see if anything has changed. If any of my companions don't have anything else to do I would welcome them coming along.

You can get a pretty simple bow, rough-hewn but sturdy, for 20 coins (near/far 1 weight). A proper Steppelander bow goes for 60 coins (near/far 1 weight +1 damage) or so. What do you do? (Question extends to after you buy your stuff)

 

[Jintor]

"I'll gladly wait for your father here," I say returning the smile, "The problem wasn't so much the cultists as it was the malevolent wizard(s) using them for their own ends, they are the true threat."

"Now tell me, how does a daughter of a mage end up an officer in the Imperial Navy? I'm not sure how comfortable I'd be with my children in the military."

She laughs. "I am the third of three daughters and the fourth of five children," she begins, "and Father has always felt that any of his children should make their own way in the world with whatever talents they so have. Thus, my eldest brother is a magister, and my eldest sister a sea-speaker. My second sister has chosen the path of a scholar - perhaps you have seen her treatise On Astronomical Bodies and their Relation to the Tides? I confess it rather goes over my head. And my younger brother, well, he plays the fool," and she winks, "to the Empress herself. So a fool he may be, but a rich fool, and quite comfortable, too."

"As for myself... well, the sea has ever spoken to my family, and I was drawn to it from a young age," she says, holding up her sheathed sword with one arm. It is a long blade, with a simple hilt, and she raises it with no apparent strain. "With no proficiency for the mystical, I have trained in swordsmanship since birth. I daresay I am rather good at it. Or, at least, I have survived an officer's life until now - which, as they say, is a passing mark, for the moment."

There is a moment as she considers you, and then she sighs. "Ser Magister..." she says, choosing her words carefully. "Of course all know of your children, but you have not been sighted outside of Doshmen lands for some time. It must be a matter of great urgency to see you leave your, ahem, retirement. Are you truly saying this incident regarding the demon Shorn was not the end of the matter? This rogue wizard or wizards - if their aim was not the incursion of Shorn of the Seas, would you care to speculate as to their true agenda?"

 

[justjim89]

The Winking Wyvern is not the most popular of haunts before the sun completely sets, but the hulking, bearded Basso is behind the counter, ready for anyone who should wander in. He grins widely as you push open the saloon-style doors, a shot of whiskey appearing as from nowhere before him. "Waymore, you damnable rogue!" he laugh-shouts, the glee evident on his huge face. "And I thought you'd perished down at Hangman's. Should've known not to trust the babble of idiots."

He slides the whiskey to you before you can even open your mouth; it skids to a stop, not a drop spilled. "On the house," he says, before you can say anything, pouring himself a shot with a dexterity you remember of old, and holds up the glass. "To absent friends."

Waymore, what do you do?

Getting risky information out him will be a Hit the Street.

"To absent friends," I say and knock the shot back with a grin, enjoying the burn. Maybe it's my thrifty side, but I've always preferred the burn of cheap whiskey over the smoothness of top-shelf stuff. The absent company Basso alludes to is a mutual friend of ours, Garrett. He was an old man who served as something of a mentor to Basso and I in our respective professions. In his younger days, he was quite a famed cutpurse and burglar. He gave me several indispensable pointers about the kind of shoes to wear to walk silently, the proper heft a blackjack ought to have, and when a job isn't worth taking. After his retirement, he opened up a bar in another city where a young Basso took him as an apprentice. We shared many a brew over the years, the three of us. Unfortunately, fate caught up with him when lord-turned-beggar he had robbed many years back stabbed him in the alley behind his bar. Poor old man bled out in the street as Basso and I stumbled out of the bar in a drunken stupor.

Sad memories aside, I smirk and slide 10 coins across the bar. "Basso, you lecherous glass-wipe! I'll have a tankard of something cheap and cool to start things off." I take off my cloak and set it folded up on the bar stool next to me. "As for my ill-fated trip to Hangman's Harbor, it's quite a tale I must say. Best spread over the course of a few rounds. But first, I'm afraid I have some business to get out of the way."

I lean in closer, and speak in more hushed tones. "In my recent dealings across this city, a certain character has popped on a few too many occasions for my comfort. A darker-skinned fellow, wears a cloak of patchwork, and he knows thieves' cant. I was hoping a man as industrious as yourself could give me a lead."

Charisma check: (6+3)+1=10

-He's got what I want right now
-It doesn't attract unwanted attention, complications, or consequences
-I get a little something extra

 

[Tubobutts]

Isolde mutters under her breath, face flushed with embarassment. "I'll have a word with the quartermaster," she saids, her face severe. "The Imperium upholds its contracts properly... well, it's supposed to, anyway. In the meantime, please take this with my apologies."

Apart from Deken you all get another 2 coin.

Oops.



You can get a pretty simple bow, rough-hewn but sturdy, for 20 coins (near/far 1 weight). A proper Steppelander bow goes for 60 coins (near/far 1 weight +1 damage) or so. What do you do? (Question extends to after you buy your stuff)

I'll buy the Steppeland Bow. Now that I have a good bow and a horse again, I'm starting to feel complete.

I also ask the shopkeeper if he knows about what happened in the Braying Mare, perhaps he saw a "patchwork" man there before everyone disappeared.
I want to clarify that I'm mostly asking about the incident at the Braying Mare and not mentioning the patchwork man directly.

 

[sproutella]

There is a moment as she considers you, and then she sighs. "Ser Magister..." she says, choosing her words carefully. "Of course all know of your children, but you have not been sighted outside of Doshmen lands for some time. It must be a matter of great urgency to see you leave your, ahem, retirement. Are you truly saying this incident regarding the demon Shorn was not the end of the matter? This rogue wizard or wizards - if their aim was not the incursion of Shorn of the Seas, would you care to speculate as to their true agenda?"

"The matter is only the fate of our world as we know it," I say as wryly as I can muster, having been face to ...something with Shorn only a day ago, "In truth I know not the ultimate goal of the warlock behind this, only that he is also a symptom rather than the disease itself. A worse and more threatening symptom, and one that requires immediate treatment, but still a symptom. Where there is collection of magical power, there will always be suffering. I'm afraid Shorn's attempted entrance will not be the only event of it's type in the coming days. I have seen as such."

 

[Bowlie]

I think I'm waiting alongside Deken on the docks.

Perhaps Serrick doesn't know much of them, but Isolde does - she's fought them before, though never in suits. "Mage's magic," she sniffs. "Of course, they only venture forth in storms and fogs, normally... most devious."

How about you tell me what she knows about them?

"After I first met them, my father told me that Imperium arcanists a long time ago tried to find ways to explore the limits of their island," she points towards the horizon, "and managed to exploit loopholes in the rules of nature to incorporate features from aquatic animals to citizens from a small village as a test."

"Unfortunately for them, their supervisors did not see their experiment with good eyes, and banished both the arcanists and the poor, alterated villagers. Treated as monsters by everyone, belonging neither to the land nor to the sea, they managed to live on through violence so far.
I'm sorry to say I don't know much about them besides the way they charge at my blade. Father should know more."

Not that I'm waiting for her father to say more, just pointing out her lack of knowledge on the subject

 

[Ultimate_Trainer]

I tag along with Thrakdur hopefully to buy a wagon to hold spoils of skirmishs and/or a shelter for resting. With 4 horses, they can hopefully pull it.

Ein, tell me about your wife. What was she like, anyway? And what happened to her?

She was an athletic type, one that used to get into fights and brawls when she was younger. She could win arm wrestle matches with most of the men in the local tavern. One day while she was holding down the store and I was investigating a late shipment, she was gone. The local residents say people in long heavy robes came into the store knocked her out and kidnapped her along with all of the store's mirrors. Peace keepers that showed up to stop the crime, were all cut up into 2-3 pieces. The only thing they left behind was a piece their robes from the initial struggle. The material of the cloth is mostly made and used here in the continent.

 

[Jintor]

I lean in closer, and speak in more hushed tones. "In my recent dealings across this city, a certain character has popped on a few too many occasions for my comfort. A darker-skinned fellow, wears a cloak of patchwork, and he knows thieves' cant. I was hoping a man as industrious as yourself could give me a lead."

Charisma check: (6+3)+1=10

-He's got what I want right now
-It doesn't attract unwanted attention, complications, or consequences
-I get a little something extra

Basso leans forward too, expertly palming the coins. "Aye, the Patchwork Man," he says casually, pouring you a full tankard of something frothy and ice-cold. "A new fellow operating under the auspices of the Guild, or so I hear. You've not heard of him before? I've never met the man meself, but..."

This Patchwork Man's real name is unknown, but among a certain crowd, his calling cards are unmistakable. Rumour has it that he's pulled off three or four spectacular heists merely in the last few months or so, responsible for the change in ownership of the Golden Koi, the raid on the Old Company's floating storage barge, and even supposedly some kind of unknown theft from a councilmember of Yenikapi's Grand Board.

"A master of shadows, they're calling him," Basso snorts. "You were too long down South, Waymore. There's always someone on our tail. Aye, but this one plays by the rules of the shadow. Got in good with the Guild somehow, pays his dues. Imagine that - being that good, but still listening to those crotchety old farts who couldn't lift a purse from a blind man?"

He finishes his drink and leans forward conspiratorially. "They're even saying he did... something up at the Braying Mare, but a week ago," he whispers hoarsely. "I don't know what, but no-one's seen hide nor hair of those raucous buffoons since then. Those fools don't even have anything good to steal, 'less you want beer that tastes like horse-piss and sheep-meat stolen from a farmer on his way to market..."

He spits, and makes a sign against evil, a complicated hand-gesture you never did quite manage to learn.

Waymore, what do you do?

I'll buy the Steppeland Bow. Now that I have a good bow and a horse again, I'm starting to feel complete.

I also ask the shopkeeper if he knows about what happened in the Braying Mare, perhaps he saw a "patchwork" man there before everyone disappeared.
I want to clarify that I'm mostly asking about the incident at the Braying Mare and not mentioning the patchwork man directly.

The girl shrugs. "Just stories on the wind," she says, expertly wrapping your new purchase in a soft sheathe of sheepskin. "Heard everything from some fool wizard trying to impress a girl and screwing up, to a horrible tale of butchery from them doshmen hotheads, to a bad batch of beer making all those big boys run off and jump in the bay without a proper suit. Now, listen, you'll want to make sure you keep your bow strung only when you think you'll need to use it in a hurry, and keep an eye out for any cracks or splinters..."

She doesn't know anything solid really. Thrakdur, what do you do?

I tag along with Thrakdur hopefully to buy a wagon to hold spoils of skirmishs and/or a shelter for resting. With 4 horses, they can hopefully pull it.

A simple cart will run you around 50 coins with a donkey, or 30 if you already have mounts; it will carry 15 weight, but isn't really any more suitable for sleeping than bedrolls out in the wilderness. A covered wagon is more expensive at about 125 coins, carrying 25 weight, but can be slept in quite comfortably.

Ein, what do you do? Also, what was your wife's name?

"The matter is only the fate of our world as we know it," I say as wryly as I can muster, having been face to ...something with Shorn only a day ago, "In truth I know not the ultimate goal of the warlock behind this, only that he is also a symptom rather than the disease itself. A worse and more threatening symptom, and one that requires immediate treatment, but still a symptom. Where there is collection of magical power, there will always be suffering. I'm afraid Shorn's attempted entrance will not be the only event of it's type in the coming days. I have seen as such."

I think I'm waiting alongside Deken on the docks.
"After I first met them, my father told me that Imperium arcanists a long time ago tried to find ways to explore the limits of their island," she points towards the horizon, "and managed to exploit loopholes in the rules of nature to incorporate features from aquatic animals to citizens from a small village as a test."

"Unfortunately for them, their supervisors did not see their experiment with good eyes, and banished both the arcanists and the poor, alterated villagers. Treated as monsters by everyone, belonging neither to the land nor to the sea, they managed to live on through violence so far.

I'm sorry to say I don't know much about them besides the way they charge at my blade. Father should know more."

She sighs. "I never did have a head for magic, but what you say strikes me as more truth than theory. Even one unskilled in the arts as myself can feel that incidents such as these are increasing in number. Merfolk attacks upon our southern trade routes have increased threefold in the last year, and there is much talk of whale sightings closer to land than ever before. We must remain vigilant."

She is interrupted by footsteps, as the Admiral and four guards approach quickly, the Admiral striding along at least a half-length ahead of her escort. "Lieutenant, Magister Reichart will be along directly," she says. "Let us go greet him."

You all approach a slightly more ornate-looking dock as in the water at the end of its length begins to boil and bubble in a large circle, a very familiar process to you both - though instead of a dull, pulsing crimson the water shines a brilliant, shining blue. "Ah, he's here," she says, turning and striding to the dock's edge as a figure rises slowly out of the water, shaking the water off; an older man, ruddy face, big bristly beard, robes of blue and black. He is joined by another four figures who slowly emerge from the depths, each wearing identical robes; two tall, spindly elves, an older woman of Chuunian complexion, and a rather twitchy-looking man you'd estimate comes from somewhere in the Imperium.

"Hail and well met, Magister Reichart," says the Admiral, bowing formally. The Magister returns her bow formally, then he smiles suddenly strides forward to embrace the tall elf.

"Caelendrial, it's good to see you," he laughs, and you notice the two elven escorts are struggling to hide grins of their own. "Though I wish this were for less pressing business. Where's my little sprog? You been taking good care of her?"

Isolde is trying hard not to smile, and pulls off a rippling salute as Magister Reichart strides further down the dock. He returns it with a wry smile, and then they, too, are embracing, him picking her up easily and whirling her around in a circle. "There's my little warrior!" he says, placing her back down. "Ah, though you haven't been little for many moons now."

"I'm glad you remembered, even if you've already completely ruined my carefully-crafted image," she grins. "May I introduce the Magister Deken and the druid Serrick? Both have been waiting to meet you for some time now, and have news you may wish to hear."

Deken, Serrick, what do you do?

 

[justjim89]

Basso leans forward too, expertly palming the coins. "Aye, the Patchwork Man," he says casually, pouring you a full tankard of something frothy and ice-cold. "A new fellow operating under the auspices of the Guild, or so I hear. You've not heard of him before? I've never met the man meself, but..."

This Patchwork Man's real name is unknown, but among a certain crowd, his calling cards are unmistakable. Rumour has it that he's pulled off three or four spectacular heists merely in the last few months or so, responsible for the change in ownership of the Golden Koi, the raid on the Old Company's floating storage barge, and even supposedly some kind of unknown theft from a councilmember of Yenikapi's Grand Board.

"A master of shadows, they're calling him," Basso snorts. "You were too long down South, Waymore. There's always someone on our tail. Aye, but this one plays by the rules of the shadow. Got in good with the Guild somehow, pays his dues. Imagine that - being that good, but still listening to those crotchety old farts who couldn't lift a purse from a blind man?"

He finishes his drink and leans forward conspiratorially. "They're even saying he did... something up at the Braying Mare, but a week ago," he whispers hoarsely. "I don't know what, but no-one's seen hide nor hair of those raucous buffoons since then. Those fools don't even have anything good to steal, 'less you want beer that tastes like horse-piss and sheep-meat stolen from a farmer on his way to market..."

He spits, and makes a sign against evil, a complicated hand-gesture you never did quite manage to learn.

Waymore, what do you do?

"The Guild," I mutter, taking a long swig of my drink. "Here I was hoping he was merely a malevolent wizard, or some mystical assassin. He could be a blood dragon glamoured as a man in bad clothing, for all I care, but I was hoping I wouldn't have to deal with the bloody Guild." I drink again, even in my frustration taking note to not slam my glass on Basso's freshly cleaned bar. Still, it explains why work has been slower since my return to town. I look back to Basso, "In times past, news of a new thief rising the ranks of notoriety and making big scores would make me want to sneak into the guard tower and make off with every suit of armor in the place." I chuckle to myself "Then, Garrett would offer me a free drink just so he could spend the whole night telling me how an impulsive thief by night is a dead thief by morning."

The news is certainly troubling, and leaves me with more questions than answers, but for tonight I feel like relaxing. Not terribly often I allow myself such luxuries as drinking and catching up with a friend. As we drink, I tell Basso the condensed story of my recent adventures with my companions, and, proudly, the extended story of my stay in and escape from the prison ship.

 

[Ultimate_Trainer]

A simple cart will run you around 50 coins with a donkey, or 30 if you already have mounts; it will carry 15 weight, but isn't really any more suitable for sleeping than bedrolls out in the wilderness. A covered wagon is more expensive at about 125 coins, carrying 25 weight, but can be slept in quite comfortably.

Ein, what do you do? Also, what was your wife's name?

"Thrakdur, do you wanna help pay for the covered wagon? I'll let you take first rest in it"
"Is it 125 without the donkey?"

"Rot, german for red, was her name"

 

[Tubobutts]

After thanking the merchant, I go over to where Ein is trying to buy a wagon.

"I don't see why we need a wagon, but if you think it's for the best..."

If everyone is ok with it, this seems like a good use for the money we got selling the horses.

Oh wait and also just for future reference what kind of roll would skinship be?

 

[Jintor]

"Thrakdur, do you wanna help pay for the covered wagon? I'll let you take first rest in it"
"Is it 125 without the donkey?"

"Rot, german for red, was her name"

150 if you want two donkies to pull. 125 without any.

 

[sproutella]

"I'm glad you remembered, even if you've already completely ruined my carefully-crafted image," she grins. "May I introduce the Magister Deken and the druid Serrick? Both have been waiting to meet you for some time now, and have news you may wish to hear."
Deken, Serrick, what do you do?

A deep bow, followed by a warm smile,"Magister it is a pleasure to meet you. I am sorry to intrude on such a happy reunion."

 

[Bowlie]

Oh wait and also just for future reference what kind of roll would skinship be?

One of your Herculean Appetites

---

"druid". As the word is said, I get slightly uncomfortable by being exposed in front of this clearly imponent man.

I bow my head, saying a short and timid greeting:
"Hello, Magister. I hope I'm not disturbing this meeting."

 

[Jintor]

Snowboarding today, no updates for two days probably. Can't type up anything too complex

 

[justjim89]

Snowboarding today, no updates for two days probably. Can't type up anything too complex

Can our next chapter be a ski resort murder mystery?

 

[sproutella]

Hey so if we have a couple day break, I was thinking about filling in some character/ worldbuilding gaps.

I think Deken is a religious man. Even though he is able to mess with the world at a fundamental level, he still bows to a higher power. I figure he prays to the typical Chuunian/Doshlands god or gods. I'm having trouble coming up with this, and how much we want there to be a mainstream religion.

So I ask you guys - Who/What are the mainstream God(s) of the Doshlanders? How widespread is worship of them?
It seems Shorn is at least somewhat common between Imperial, Steppelander, and Doshlander alike, so, what is Shorn's place in the celestial and infernal order?

Feel free to go anywhere with these, mostly I'm looking for good swears to say when I see my impending doom.

 

[Bowlie]

I tried to listen to the first episode of Friends at the Table and it was good at the beginning, though rough as every podcast start, but lost myself after almost an hour. It sucks because I don't think I have 3 hours to spend on it.

Religions: Elemental Shamanism

Religion
The Nomads follow a sort of elemental shamanism in which there are a variety of spirits inhabiting the land. There are four spirits that could be equated to the gods of other cultures.

Shandur, the Skyfather: The most powerful of the gods, it is believed that everything came from him. It is believed that he communicates with Shamans through storms.

Unod: God of Life and Fertility, the nomads bury the dead in the Earth believing they will later be reborn

Arkahz: Born of the Sun, the Fire God cares the most for humanity. Most rituals involve some sort of fire as a result. There is a taboo against important events taking place during the night (Births, marriages, funerals) as it is when the Fire God is not watching.

Shorn: The God of death, Corruption of Rain. Although rain is a gift from Shandur, large bodies of water are believed to be portals to the underworld. As a result any water drawn from these sources must be purified by the divine fire before being used. The bodies of traitors and kinslayers are drowned, going to the underworld with no chance of reincarnation.

Tiamat put this up in the first days. Seems like Shorn is The Biggest Evil.

I think Shorn is just another facet of the god of death present in most religions, and that the steppelanders and their culture are known throughout all the kingdoms; that's why it could manifest itself near Xingchu, a city far away from the doshlands.

I'd like to hear Tiamat's input on this since he's the one who created them.

 

[Jintor]

In my head the imperials kind of think of shorn and the rest of it as a Steppes belief. The fact that he's actually real doesn't stop him being kind of provincial

 

[Tubobutts]

That stuff was meant to be purely the beliefs of Thrakdurs sort of Steppelanders, other Steppelanders would not necessarily believe the same things and might know those gods by different names. Thrakdur's tribe holds Arkahz in the highest esteem even though Shandur is considered to be the most powerful. A different tribe might think it's silly to praise the sun when the sun is clearly part of the sky and would therefore hold Shandur in the highest esteem.

For the Doshii and Chu-ren, I dont think they would worship the same gods as the Steppelanders, but the gods might have a similar "lineage." For example the Steppe-God Unod is a generalized God of nature, but the Doshii worship the God of agriculture/harvest called Nudosh and have a variety of other gods that are in charge of the other things the Steppelanders assign to Unod.

Shorn I envision as being an alien God to the Steppelanders, the result of contact with a seafaring culture (maybe the elves a very long time ago) and Shorn is just how the foreign word from thousands of years ago is now rendered. Maybe the elves had contact with the Steppelanders thousands a long time ago and kicked the Steppelanders butts and the Nomads decided that since the elves came on ships and worshipped some Sea god with a strange name, they were probably demons. In my mind this all happened in pre-history so even the Elves have only vague records of a meeting with people who rode horses or were half horse or something and the Steppelanders would not associate the glamoured Elves with the weird spindly sea demons of yore.*

This might be overstepping, but even with Shorn being "real" this can still work. If the site under the Fort wasn't exactly a place of power for Shorn, but instead a sort of concentration of primordial sea magic/energy/leylines/whatever, then maybe it was the Shorn worshipping Steppelanders that gave it shape. Then Thrakdur comes in, sees fish people, and decides it must be the work of Shorn, thereby reinforcing it. So the primordial sea magic coalesces into Shorn when Deken jumps into the portal. if we had been elves maybe the sea energy would have consolidated into a more benevolent form.


*Maybe these elves worshipped their sea God in a Storm/War aspect, and this was what the Nomads would call Shorn, whereas a more benevolent aspect of the Sea God had a completely different name.

 

[Jintor]

A deep bow, followed by a warm smile,"Magister it is a pleasure to meet you. I am sorry to intrude on such a happy reunion."

"druid". As the word is said, I get slightly uncomfortable by being exposed in front of this clearly imponent man.

I bow my head, saying a short and timid greeting:
"Hello, Magister. I hope I'm not disturbing this meeting."

"If my sprog thinks it important that you intrude, then by all means, 'tis no intrusion at all," he booms, absent-mindedly wringing water out of one wrist. "Druid - Serrick, was it? - You I've not heard of, though I'm most pleased to make your acquaintance. But Magister Deken, ah! Your wife - oh, how she tweaked the Empress's nose with that wonderful performance of hers. Ah, I wish I had spoken to her more, alas."

The Admiral coughs politely. "Unfortunately, we must make private conversation for the moment," she informs the two of you. "I do apologise for asking you to wait once more, but if I may beg your indulgence in this matter, we will be available an hour after sundown. Magister Deken, may I ask your plans? I must warn you that even a Battlemage as capable as Magister Reichart must maintain his lictors." She indicates the mage's four companions, who regard you evenly. "They are a symbol of his imperium, and his sworn bodyguards."

What do you do? You could describe to me the way you kill time until they are ready for you once more, or skip straight ahead to your private conversation with the Magister. Deken, is Serrick invited too, or must he find his own diversions for the moment?

Oh, and Deken - what is the fundamental difference between the magic commonly practiced by Imperials and the common (non-blood) magic of the Kingdoms of Chuu?

"Thrakdur, do you wanna help pay for the covered wagon? I'll let you take first rest in it"
"Is it 125 without the donkey?"

After thanking the merchant, I go over to where Ein is trying to buy a wagon.

"I don't see why we need a wagon, but if you think it's for the best..."

Your new wagon (0/25 load, covered, sturdy) is a simple but sturdy affair, likely to attract no additional attention on the road beyond that which any average wagon would do so. It offers protection from the elements, a fair amount of baggage space, a chair from which to drive the horses and - while not exactly maneuverable - is easy enough to get rolling. The man selling it is happy to garage it for you until you can return with your horses.

Remove 125 coins from the group inventory or from the two of you, whatever works. Ein and Trakdur, what do you do now? You know Waymore is relaxing in a tavern nearby, but it may be that you still have other matters you wish to investigate. You could search for supplies, or seek lore of the forces you have recently encountered. Or you could just go do something... interesting.

The news is certainly troubling, and leaves me with more questions than answers, but for tonight I feel like relaxing. Not terribly often I allow myself such luxuries as drinking and catching up with a friend. As we drink, I tell Basso the condensed story of my recent adventures with my companions, and, proudly, the extended story of my stay in and escape from the prison ship.

As you regale Basso with your tales of adventure and derring-do, you notice a hooded figure enter the tavern, looking both ways, clearly and obviously attempting to be stealthy and absolutely bungling the whole thing. As the figure navigates the thankfully largely-empty room, they pull up the chair next to you in the corner of the bar, away from the light, and slip into the spot.

"Thank the gods I've found you," the figure whispers, throwing off her hood, revealing a shock of copper-coloured hair that even in the fading light of the afternoon seems to glow. It is Liana, Alonso's ex-wife, and she looks - nervous, worried, agitated. "Master Waymore, we absolutely must talk. I - I've heard some bad things, some evil things, are happening in this city."

Her eyes flicker to Basso, whose face goes impassive as he takes an empty mug and walks down to the other end of the bar, out of earshot. Bartender's discretion - a useful thing. "It involves, um, the ring. Someone is planning to kill someone, Master Thief. A Magister, I think. Rye cart? Reich heart? I don't know the specifics, but - I'm messing this up. You believe me, right? Right?"

She looks at you, eyes wide. Waymore, what do you do?

 

[Bowlie]

"If my sprog thinks it important that you intrude, then by all means, 'tis no intrusion at all," he booms, absent-mindedly wringing water out of one wrist. "Druid - Serrick, was it? - You I've not heard of, though I'm most pleased to make your acquaintance. But Magister Deken, ah! Your wife - oh, how she tweaked the Empress's nose with that wonderful performance of hers. Ah, I wish I had spoken to her more, alas."

The Admiral coughs politely. "Unfortunately, we must make private conversation for the moment," she informs the two of you. "I do apologise for asking you to wait once more, but if I may beg your indulgence in this matter, we will be available an hour after sundown. Magister Deken, may I ask your plans? I must warn you that even a Battlemage as capable as Magister Reichart must maintain his lictors." She indicates the mage's four companions, who regard you evenly. "They are a symbol of his imperium, and his sworn bodyguards."

What do you do? You could describe to me the way you kill time until they are ready for you once more, or skip straight ahead to your private conversation with the Magister. Deken, is Serrick invited too, or must he find his own diversions for the moment?

I don't trust these men, though as good as they seem, and don't feel like I'd have anything worthwhile to say in their discussion. Even more, he asked the Admiral for this encounter without directly saying what for, so it's best I'm not privy to that.


"My good sir, I was just keeping Deken company until you arrived; I hope you have a good time." (still timid)

---

After leaving, I head towards the parks (how big are they?) with my book and search for the animals listed in it or something more interesting.

 

[Jintor]

After leaving, I head towards the parks (how big are they?) with my book and search for the animals listed in it or something more interesting.

I'll turn this one around on you: how big is Xingchu's famous Haven district?

Common critters include the Hainen Sulfur-crested Gibbon, small tribes of Urban Foxes, the fierce and unrelenting yet tiny Velvet Wolverines and the Common Medium Kestral, but feel free to make up more exotic creatures.

 

[sproutella]

What do you do? You could describe to me the way you kill time until they are ready for you once more, or skip straight ahead to your private conversation with the Magister. Deken, is Serrick invited too, or must he find his own diversions for the moment?
Oh, and Deken - what is the fundamental difference between the magic commonly practiced by Imperials and the common (non-blood) magic of the Kingdoms of Chuu?

Collegial Magic (magic practiced by the Colleges residing in the Chuunian Kingdoms) involves the transference and amplification of energy from one form to another to result in the magical effects witnessed. The origination of the energy is from somewhere in this physical world*.

Imperial Magic is derived from planes (or 'caverns' or 'vaults' as they are referred to by the mages when talking to each other) that Magisters access (again colloquially described as 'uncorking' or just 'opening'). During meditation Magisters can enter (kind of an astral projection, though some disagree that there is any actual mental translocation occurring rather than just visual metaphor) these caverns, understanding your personal cavern is quite vital to producing anything worthwhile magically.

Deken has read a book detailing that these caverns, and how they are in fact interconnected. The author is considered something between a quack and a complete loon.
Deken is not a fan of Imperial Magic. Though he does respect the training and attitude of the higher ups - most favor a more ascetic approach to magery rather than an experimental one that the colleges promote.

*As for places of magical power - the ritual circle in the fort being one of them - they have raw magical energy stabilized in the physical world, at least for a time, that is able to be drawn from by Deken's magic. Deken typically can't access power from the souls of any deceased, the energy was contained by the spells put in place.
---

If Lt. Reichart is still around, a chat amiably with her, we seem to share some common ground having both been around magic in the house. I show her a mechanomagical doo-dad I have, a little brass grasshopper that can hop about 15 feet straight into the air and land in the exact same spot, no matter the wind or other force applied during its journey. I'm quite proud of the dumb thing, if only because the spellcraft and getting the balance of the thing juuust right was so hard.

The magister's honor guard is of course welcome to join us for supper.

 

[Tubobutts]

I don't have anything else to do, I'll go find Waymore.

 

[Bowlie]

I'll turn this one around on you: how big is Xingchu's famous Haven district?

Common critters include the Hainen Sulfur-crested Gibbon, small tribes of Urban Foxes, the fierce and unrelenting yet tiny Velvet Wolverines and the Common Medium Kestral, but feel free to make up more exotic creatures.

Let's see... "to reach Haven (...) from the docks: head southeast (...), going through the marketplace and administrative buildings until you reach the residential area. Lo and behold, this is the Haven district, or just Haven! Composed of (...), low and middle class houses and our wordly famous Great Parks it's the largest district in Xingchu, occupying a third of its area. In it you can fin-"
Okay, dear author, I'll see for myself what I can find in it.

The sun is close to the horizon when I arrive at Haven, painting the sky with a marvelous orange. All the clamour from the vendors and the customers faded away and it's surprisingly quiet here. My first thought is "I've been waiting for this"; my second is "this would be a good place to lay low".
I pass through alleyways of two stories buildings made of something that looks but not feels like limestone filled with washing lines, trash dumps and some kids who were not yet called by their mothers to get inside.

By the time I get tired of this sight the path opens to a colorful woodland: more accurately, what would be a enormous peat forest if the city let it grow. No wonder, given the acidic soil present here. Excited, I forget about the book as I hear birds singing and apes playing around. I spend a little time with every animal I see: gibbons, lizards, gavials, thrushs, foxes, butterflies, frogs!

That's when I find a small grove plentiful of little herbs and flowers and pick some to replenish my stock (do I need to roll for this?), and sit down to meditate under a beautiful melody. (think Snow White)

 

[justjim89]

As you regale Basso with your tales of adventure and derring-do, you notice a hooded figure enter the tavern, looking both ways, clearly and obviously attempting to be stealthy and absolutely bungling the whole thing. As the figure navigates the thankfully largely-empty room, they pull up the chair next to you in the corner of the bar, away from the light, and slip into the spot.

"Thank the gods I've found you," the figure whispers, throwing off her hood, revealing a shock of copper-coloured hair that even in the fading light of the afternoon seems to glow. It is Liana, Alonso's ex-wife, and she looks - nervous, worried, agitated. "Master Waymore, we absolutely must talk. I - I've heard some bad things, some evil things, are happening in this city."

Her eyes flicker to Basso, whose face goes impassive as he takes an empty mug and walks down to the other end of the bar, out of earshot. Bartender's discretion - a useful thing. "It involves, um, the ring. Someone is planning to kill someone, Master Thief. A Magister, I think. Rye cart? Reich heart? I don't know the specifics, but - I'm messing this up. You believe me, right? Right?"

She looks at you, eyes wide. Waymore, what do you do?

Her urgency and insistence quickly erodes the humorousness of her attempted stealthiness, and I sit forward towards her. A voice in the back of my head is reminding me that the ring would be more trouble than the job was worth. "Of course I believe you, calm down. I believe it was me that told you that ring would cause you some trouble, no?"

I finish the drink in front of me and slide the glass towards Basso, indicating none further for me. "I'm not well-versed in local politics, mind you, but I believe you're referring to Magister Ryckert? A dirty, corrupt fellow. I'd figured someone would have lopped off his head years ago. What exactly does this have to do with your ring, though? Are you being followed?"

 

[Jintor]

If Lt. Reichart is still around, a chat amiably with her, we seem to share some common ground having both been around magic in the house. I show her a mechanomagical doo-dad I have, a little brass grasshopper that can hop about 15 feet straight into the air and land in the exact same spot, no matter the wind or other force applied during its journey. I'm quite proud of the dumb thing, if only because the spellcraft and getting the balance of the thing juuust right was so hard.

The magister's honor guard is of course welcome to join us for supper.

The time passes quickly, Lt. Reichart enjoying your little creation and telling you about a few places she's been and seen, sharing a few tips for more affordable restaurants and so on. Eventually, the Admiral, the Magister and his lictors return from the chamber in which they have ensconsced themselves, voices still low.

"Lieutenant, we have work to do. Magister Reichart, Magister Deken, good day," says the Admiral, nodding briefly, and strides off, the Lieutenant bowing quickly to you and turning to follow. Magister Reichart ("Call me Arthur, please, we're all friends here") looks pensive, for a moment, and then brightens up.

"Well, now that that's out of the way, let's go get some grub!" he says, slapping his hands together in anticipation. One of his elven escorts rolls his eyes. "I know Cael... the Admiral said my friends here will need to escort me, but strictly speaking, I only need the full set on official business. Let's see..."

Arthur points at one of the elves and at the nervous-looking youth. "Arwyen, Tristan, you're with me; Vladriem, Xia, you're dismissed until tommorrow morn. Try not to have too much fun out there."

He turns to you as the Chuunian woman and the other elf begin to leave. "Alright, Magister, if you've supper and conversation to offer, by all means, lead on."

What do you do?

That's when I find a small grove plentiful of little herbs and flowers and pick some to replenish my stock (do I need to roll for this?), and sit down to meditate under a beautiful melody. (think Snow White)

Sure, give me a supply roll.

An oasis in the city, a place of power. The spirits of the forest - well, a forest, you think to yourself - are present here, but they are subtly different to the voices of your homeland. They are different, of course, but not simply different in species or form, but in attitude, urgency, cunning. And yet... they still recognise you, as a speaker, as one who may yet help. They cluster by you, a great song of harmony building, rising, as you open your mind to the world around you.

Serrick, your current drive is "Grow the Wild Kingdoms", but you have as yet shown no inclination towards attempting to spread the wilderness or to reclaim the urban world for nature. Do you wish to modify your overall drive in line with your experiences thus far? In this place, with these spirits, there is the potential for you to come to a new realisation about yourself and your place in this world.

What do you do?

Her urgency and insistence quickly erodes the humorousness of her attempted stealthiness, and I sit forward towards her. A voice in the back of my head is reminding me that the ring would be more trouble than the job was worth. "Of course I believe you, calm down. I believe it was me that told you that ring would cause you some trouble, no?"

I finish the drink in front of me and slide the glass towards Basso, indicating none further for me. "I'm not well-versed in local politics, mind you, but I believe you're referring to Magister Ryckert? A dirty, corrupt fellow. I'd figured someone would have lopped off his head years ago. What exactly does this have to do with your ring, though? Are you being followed?"

Her brow wrinkles. "I don't believe him to be a politician of any kind... they speak more of magic and mages, preparing... what's that word? Countermeasures?" she says, face in thought. Then she starts. "No, I'm not being followed - at least, I don't believe so... I don't think I'm in any immediate danger."

She takes the small box from her pocket and lays it on the bar. "My late husband," she explains, "was a dog, a philanderer, and a conman to boot, though he didn't deserve... hng. Sorry. Um, to cut a long story short, I didn't trust him. At all. So..."

She took his ring, and her ring, and took them to a mage, and had them bound together - but only in one direction. His ring broadcast. Her ring received. By wearing the ring, she could hear what he heard - and she heard much.

"That's how I learned of his terrible ways," she says, tears silently streaming down her face, "that he had a girl in every quarter that he'd visit during his 'business trips'..." She shakes her head, and blows her nose on one sleeve. "But he's gone now. Before the... incident, um, he'd started working with, um... the Guild."

She's a bit frantic now. "I don't think he was a criminal! I knew he was, um, bad, but... just, like, to me, I thought. I don't think he killed people, or sold the Underteas, or any of that... I thought he was just... but he knew people who did, and they talked, and... I didn't want to listen into that stuff. It made my skin crawl. I had to get out of there, but the Court said he bought the rings, so they were his. But that wasn't right. I just wanted my ring back."

She doesn't know where Alonso is, but someone else has his ring now. "I think it's a Guildsman, or something. They're giving orders, a lot. There's talk. About a killing. A murder. Master Thief, I don't know who to turn to, and I know you're not supposed to magic devices like this without consent, and there's bad things and murders and I can't go to the Guard, I just can't... will you help me? Please?"

Waymore, what do you do?

I don't have anything else to do, I'll go find Waymore.

As you walk into the bar, you see Waymore conversing with a woman with red hair at the bar. The bartender sees you enter and coughs. "Hoy, Steppelander," he says, patting the taps of the bar affectionately. "I've fresh Golden Ale, straight off the caravans, at a fairer price than anywhere else in the city. Care for a sampler?"

Thrakdur, what do you do? (And where's Ein)?

 

[justjim89]

Sorry, it seems like I neglected to pay attention to a bit of backstory. I thought you were hinting at a character named after a certain Giant Bomb personality. I feel silly.

I notice Thrakdur walking in over my shoulder, motioning for him to hold off a moment while I talk to Liana. I've come to respect him as a fighter and enjoy him as a traveling companion, but he seems a bit of a blunt instrument in a manner such as this. Looking back to Liana, I offer her a handkerchief from my pocket. "Please calm down, madam. You did right to bring this to me instead of the guard. You would also do right to get this ring out of your own possession for now. Trust me, if those you are listening in on realize they're being listened to, they're going to track down the source."

I pat her on the shoulder reassuringly. "You should be able to go home and rest easier now. With the information you've given me, I'll do my best to ensure that this ring's partner is found, whatever plot they're concocting is negated, and both rings will be returned to you for some peace of mind. Have a drink, Basso here is bound to have something to calm your nerves."

 

[Jintor]

She sniffles a ltitle and takes the hankerchief. "Thank you, Master Thief," she says through a now-runny nose, and pushes the box towards you. "I - I'll pay handsomely for Alonso's ring, as well, if you can get it back... and please, be careful. Um. But, um, maybe it'd be best to get the magic negated before you bring the pair to me? I'll cover... I'll cover the cost, of course..."

Even as Basso is talking to Thrakdur, he prepares a drink and slides it expertly down the counter to rest in front of the blubbering Liana. It is pink, and fizzy, and has an umbrella and a jaunty straw in it.

Waymore, what do you do?

 

[justjim89]

She sniffles a ltitle and takes the hankerchief. "Thank you, Master Thief," she says through a now-runny nose, and pushes the box towards you. "I - I'll pay handsomely for Alonso's ring, as well, if you can get it back... and please, be careful. Um. But, um, maybe it'd be best to get the magic negated before you bring the pair to me? I'll cover... I'll cover the cost, of course..."

Even as Basso is talking to Thrakdur, he prepares a drink and slides it expertly down the counter to rest in front of the blubbering Liana. It is pink, and fizzy, and has an umbrella and a jaunty straw in it.

Waymore, what do you do?

I look at the drink, then to Basso with a smirk. "My, Basso. Colorful."

Returning my attention to Liana, I slide the box into my pack. "Of course, dear lady. I have friends who can remove the enchantments from the ring for you. By the time all this is resolved, they'll merely be mementos of a time you're thankfully far past. You have my word as a professional."

 

[Tubobutts]

I see Waymore motion for me to not approach and go over to the bartender instead. I'm sure I'll find out what that's all about eventually.

"Sounds good to me" I say, happy to not automatically be offered fermented Yak Sheep's milk for once.

The Steppe Nomads herd Yak Sheep. Or Sheep Yak. Whichever sounds better.

If you take Magister Reichart to fantasy Taco Bell I'm quitting this game.

 

[Jintor]

I look at the drink, then to Basso with a smirk. "My, Basso. Colorful."

Returning my attention to Liana, I slide the box into my pack. "Of course, dear lady. I have friends who can remove the enchantments from the ring for you. By the time all this is resolved, they'll merely be mementos of a time you're thankfully far past. You have my word as a professional."

She nods, somewhat distantly, and tries an experimental sip. Her expression lights up, though she's still crying a little. You should probably leave her be.

On the other end of the bar, Basso pulls a lever for a second and lets a half-cup of golden ale fill before passing it to Thrakdur. "On the house," he says.

Thrakdur, Waymore, what do you do?

 

[justjim89]

I walk down the bar to Thrakdur, nodding at him. "I have a lead. We ought to meet with the others and go over things, but the bottom line is that we need to infiltrate the Thieves' Guild."

 

[Tubobutts]

"That sounds like a good way to get into trouble," I say to Waymore as I quaff my drink, "Let's find out what the others have learned before we go jumping into scorpion pits."

"Another!" I say to the bartender, putting a coin on the counter.

 

[justjim89]

If this were a movie, we'd promptly cut to a montage of Waymore, Thrakdur, and Basso happily drinking and laughing together all night while Liana silently sobs at the other end of the bar.

 

[Tubobutts]

Thrakdur hasn't been in a lot of non-Steppelander bars in Xingchu. He just assumed all of them had crying ladies. Whatever you guys are into, he doesn't judge.

 

[Bowlie]

Sure, give me a supply roll.

An oasis in the city, a place of power. The spirits of the forest - well, a forest, you think to yourself - are present here, but they are subtly different to the voices of your homeland. They are different, of course, but not simply different in species or form, but in attitude, urgency, cunning. And yet... they still recognise you, as a speaker, as one who may yet help. They cluster by you, a great song of harmony building, rising, as you open your mind to the world around you.

Serrick, your current drive is "Grow the Wild Kingdoms", but you have as yet shown no inclination towards attempting to spread the wilderness or to reclaim the urban world for nature. Do you wish to modify your overall drive in line with your experiences thus far? In this place, with these spirits, there is the potential for you to come to a new realisation about yourself and your place in this world.

What do you do?

Supply, 2d6+CHA. (2+3) + 1 = 6

Later I'd see my herbs under the bright sunlight and realize they were brown and wilted, not proper for usage.

Yeah... I've been trying to find a way to do that but did not manage yet. Didn't get much chance in the first chapter, found out in 1.5 that the Vaces were not being over-farmed (if they were, I could have tried to stop some farming operations), and I took "wild regions of your land" as "forests" so I wouldn't do anything in the sea cave. I want to keep that drive, I'm just waiting for an opportunity. And I'm looking forward to the wolf, though. He could be being hunted down by townfolk and I would be right there to stop them. What I'm saying is that if I were in that bear scene in The Revenant, I'd kill DiCaprio and let mother bear go back to her cubs.

---

"Hello. I am Serrick from Noshee, but you know that already otherwise we wouldn't be singing together. You have more... presence... than the other spirits I've met. Since your forest is no longer what it once was, am I the only one who spoke to you around here lately?"

 

[Jintor]

"Hello. I am Serrick from Noshee, but you know that already otherwise we wouldn't be singing together. You have more... presence... than the other spirits I've met. Since your forest is no longer what it once was, am I the only one who spoke to you around here lately?"

The chorus of voices and sounds and smells drops in pitch and tone, a keening in your mind; the spirits here are ancient beings, but they have been amongst more humans than the ones you are familiar with for far longer. How do the spirits normally communicate with you, Serrick? Whatever the answer, here they do things differently.

There are others, the wind whispers, leaves curling to change the breeze, amplifying, deadening, changing. The grove itself speaks to you, it almost seems. Many plant-weavers... they are... gardeners of knowledge... they are respectful. They talk to us, but... they do not hear.

A family of urban foxes run across the grass before you, and one pauses to nibble at your fingers. We welcome you to our domains, it yips, In this time of great crisis. It runs off into the shrubbery as a bird descends upon your shoulder, cawing loudly. You arrive at good time! it shrieks. Someone must know! Someone must hear!

Serrick, you know instinctively what they are trying to warn you about - something that threatens both the city and the wilds, for here in Xingchu, both are one and the same. What is it? What approaches?