conversations.from: system
conversations.value: ROLEPLAY_MODE: Develop the plot slowly, always stay in character. Describe all actions in full, elaborate, explicit, graphic, and vivid detail. Mention all relevant sensory perceptions. Keep the story immersive and engaging.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: qwertyu63: This is the IC thread for Stars over Katseeni Group A.
  
  The first scene starts at the Rusty Spigot, a bar and inn in the city of Essean.
  
  Introduce yourselves and interact. Feel free to add detail the location as you see fit, within reason. I will start the plot around 9:00 EDT, assuming there are no delays on me returning to my computer.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Macha: Thirty long years... and this is where my travels take me. Back to my home, but so soon only to leave it again...  
  
  Waving off a couple of his guards, a heavily-armored monster of a man enters the Rusty Spigot with a trained gaze on the interior, looking for an empty table for the rest of the group to meet at. Satisfied with one in a well-lit corner, he takes a few surprisingly light steps to it, before removing his helmet with one hand.
  
    A pleasant little spot, I think.  
  
  Even for his size, two unnaturally large, pale blue eyes stare out with a serene gaze across each and every person in the tavern, identifying him as an  orog , or deep orc.
  
    Here's to hoping the winds of fate brought me my companions...  
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: asdflove: A small girl with a petite frame strides into the  Rusty Spigot  a dark hood drawn up, shadowing her face, but golden hair spills out and you can just see the shining gold of her eyes as they sweep across the room. Pure white feathered wings extend from her back, fluttering gently as she walks. Several stones bob gently around her head. Her gaze focuses on the large man in the corner and she swiftly strides over.
    "The winds of fate have beckoned me here."   She takes a seat.   "I presume they have you as well. I am Allieria. Allieria Fateweaver."  
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: RadicalTurnip: A young man, barely more than a boy, pokes his head into the tavern and has a look around.  His clothing is worn and dusty, but he seems high-spirited enough. He stands in the doorway and his hands go out to help a very old woman "  Here you go gramma! Anythin' else ya need afore I go back to the farm?  "
  
  The old woman pats his hand and shakes her head. " No deary, I think that'll be fine. " she says, an obvious quaver in her soft voice.  The boy, or I should say man, smiles politely, then scampers out the door cheerfully, disappearing into the crowd.  As the door closes, the old woman adjusts her bonnet to make sure it's still on and turns to slowly makes her way to a table with the aide of a cane and ample amounts of time.
  
  After sitting for a few minutes, she orders some water and begins to drink from it.
  
   
   Spoiler 
  She knew it was foolish to come without a proxy, but it was just a tavern.  As she--the young man--stood invisibly near her projected image--the old woman. She scanned the crowd out of habit, looking for anyone that showed signs of seeing through her illusions, though her habit was now a relic--it was nigh impossible to see through them now, even with spells designed to do just that. Hopefully she could get her information and be on her way in short time.
   
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Kazyan: Umeki didn't usually question random coincidences. Okay, well, she did--and thoroughly--but only for the purposes of understanding them,  not  to get paranoid, flip out, and start flinging magic-no-work-here beams all over the place. She'd come in for yet another drink in the tavern (you can never have too large of a sample size), and her favorite table had a few people sitting there. That seldom happened. Oh, look, someone else with ioun stones! And, y'know, all sorts of indicators that she wasn't normal.
  
    "Hey there, Allieria. Did I catch your name right?"   Umeki says as she strides over. The gnome walks with a practiced carefulness about her, keeping her overlong, starry purple robe closed, as if concealing something. It drags on the ground behind her as she hoists herself onto a seat next to Alliera.   "I'm Umeki. Surname Thearat. I'll go with the 'fate' explanation too, since...actually, you probably don't want to listen to my theories right now. I just met you. Hi."   She yanks a gauntlets off her right hand, and offers a handshake.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: asdflove: Originally Posted by Kazyan 
   Umeki didn't usually question random coincidences. Okay, well, she did--and thoroughly--but only for the purposes of understanding them,  not  to get paranoid, flip out, and start flinging magic-no-work-here beams all over the place. She'd come in for yet another drink in the tavern (you can never have too large of a sample size), and her favorite table had a few people sitting there. That seldom happened. Oh, look, someone else with ioun stones! And, y'know, all sorts of indicators that she wasn't normal.
  
    "Hey there, Allieria. Did I catch your name right?"   Umeki says as she strides over. The gnome walks with a practiced carefulness about her, keeping her overlong, starry purple robe closed, as if concealing something. It drags on the ground behind her as she hoists herself onto a seat next to Alliera.   "I'm Umeki. Surname Thearat. I'll go with the 'fate' explanation too, since...actually, you probably don't want to listen to my theories right now. I just met you. Hi."   She yanks a gauntlets off her right hand, and offers a handshake. 
   
  
  Alliera smiles, pulls off one of her own bracers and shakes the offered hand.  "You did infact catch my name correctly. It's a pleasure Umeki, and I would be curious to hear your theory soon, though it does seem like the work of Issac to me." 
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: RadicalTurnip: Naomi decides that if anyone is going to know about ascension rituals, it'll be the obvious adventuring group of obviousness.  Someone with Robes? An Oroug? Ioun Stones for goodness sake? These people wouldn't know subtlety if it fell from a bucket onto their heads.  Which sounded like a fun plan; except she didn't prank people she didn't know. That was just mean and too easy.  Getting somebody to bring her into the conversation, however? That might be doable.
  
  As the old woman sat at her table her movements slowed even further.  Somebody with True Seeing or an ability to discern illusions may notice that some of the hanging skin and wrinkles (but by no means all of it, the lady within the illusion still appears in her late sixties instead of late eighties) is provided by a hat of disguise, which is posing as a bonnet atop her head.  As she relaxes at the table, her eyes droop and her whole body sways slightly in the chair.  After a few false starts, her mid-afternoon nap seems upon her.
  
  Unfortunately, her hands clasping the cup loosen and the cup slides off of the table and out of her hands, clattering loudly and spilling water on the tavern floor.  She jerks awake immediately in surprise and  sees her spilled cup.  The woman glances around in shame and produces a small handkerchief from her pocket which is completely outmatched for the task at hand.  She attempts (in her slow movements) to clean up the mess before anyone else can notice (which seems likely, as there is probably nobody else *to* notice).
  
  As her image is putting on the show, she approaches the group from an oblique angle near the wall.  She settles into position under an empty table next to theirs with a good view and within easy listening range.