[User]
 After getting cleaned up (under the supervision of guards), quickly learns — over a lovely meal of bisque and gelato — why he has been summoned. Edgington wants to marry Sophie-Anne and combine their territories (and thus enhance their power). The Queen of Louisiana has, however, refused him, so the King is now turning to for secrets he can use to force the Queen’s hand. The King has also brought ’s ex-lover Lorena into the fold, much to ’s displeasure.

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[User]
 Overall, a decent, but obviously exposition-heavy . Since we know that werewolves are the species being introduced this , the writers seem to be taking their time in moving the central plot forward; I’m ready to move on and get to the major mystery of the . I also hope that gets a grip, and fast. Both she (and her mother) seem mired in the past, which I suppose is meant.

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[User]
 One of the benifits of having two heads, if not increased intelligence or real brain power, was the ability to have two trains of thought going.
For example, as he looked Sophia and the rules of Papers and Paychecks [People really played this? What the hell?], one head looked to the side and tested his powers.

Suddenly, his mind began flicking around the various icons and such that were held by those dedicated to him.
He repressed the urge to smile as he made the wind near one whisper a message... By all that was, he struggled not to jump out and down cheering.
And then his feelings plummeted.
It was possible, so that means he would be begging, and not just to other gods, but to mortals... Now he had to repress a depressed look.

Looking around, he viewed hundreds and mortals, and composed a message, asking them to pray, delivering it directly to minds in numbers uncounting, and reassuring them as they sat down to pray, each of them safe and far from the Dark Empire, which should prevent the information from being whispers in Thirst's accursed ears...

He then sought out a particular mage.

[User]
 Meanwhile, a Mage following the tracks of scouts stops, tilting his head to the sky, his hand moving out to halt the large golem walking beside him as he receives communion from Sid'Jax.

 "<Elvaru, my friend. I am sorry to say your march through the snow has been for nought.">
 "They needed moving?"
 "<Yes a-.">
 "You still need help. I understand. What do you need?"
 "<Many things. However there I one specifically for you.">
 "I listen, for I know you need it."
 "<I need you to attack the cities of the Dark Empire.">
 "I... I will do so-."
 "<But first, you two need to wait. I am sending you aid, the dead come. I know you find su-.">
 "I understand, you have shown me some of what they have done, and if you are sending me dead I can guess what kind. I take it they have used the same first."
 "<"Yes.">
 "I will wait-."
 <"In the badlands north of you or the planes to the east, Wraiths wait where you are, though the dead will be comming from where you are. Let me suggest the Vale."

The communication ends, the wizard sighs, and with a quick motion directs the golem to keep walking beside him.

 Spoiler: OOC

Not talking about what the wizard is exacctly, because I am seriously considering recreating him as a Old Dragonwrought Kobold Ultimate Magus with epic spell slots, Arcane manipulation and Uncanny Forethought.

Golem not mentioned because I'm deciding between Force Golem for V incorporeal or Ruby Golem for regen.

Also, all/many my undead followers of use are appearing there to travel with him and heading towards my cohort. He's heading towards the planes next to the place that used to be known as the vale.

[User]
 Meanwhile, where dragons planned and ploted for battles currently forestalled with the dwarves, Sid'Jax's voice is heard.
 <"False Light.">
 "Yes. Why-."
 <"I'm sorry, but I must be quick.">
 "You kno-."
 <"Yes, but I must speak to you all.">
One of the younger whites opens it's mouth to speak, a confused look contorting it's face. It never gets to though.
 <"I know. All of you, Orcs are coming. I know, I know. But they come to help, not that it's much needed any more. The Dwarve's wont be fighting you, more likely they will die or be absorbed by the orcs.">
 "That is... Why are-"
 <"Because I need to ask for your help. I need you to guide the Orc's towards the Dark Empire, those lead by Thirst.-">
 "The Undead God?"
 <"Yes, I know you suffer against the dead, but I know how devestating you can be against the living. I also need you to convince the other dragons, there are many undead specimens you can show them.">
 "Your will is known."
 <"Thank you, I am busy, and I must go.">
Sid'Jax retracts his senses from the stone carving, hearing the start of friendly mockery that would probably be taken badly.

[User]
 Perhaps a couple of days from the Holy Mountain a Dire Tiger of the oddest sort stalks prey, seeking to supplement it's non-diet as it roams ahead of people making semi-pilgrimage, suddenly the icon of Sid'Jax upon the side of it's barding comes to life, and smiles.

 "Goldmane."
The Tiger almost jumps out of it's skin looking around, before realising what the voice is.
 "Oh. It's you."
 "Yes. I thought you didn't hunt."
 "I do occasionally, real meat is nice."
 "Ahh."
 "We are a day out, two maybe for the rest. What do you need?"
 "From you, nothing actually, I just viewed to check on your progress... However you may wish to be more careful than normal. I must go, there are more messages for me to deliver."
And I shouldn't panic you, Sid'Jax thinks.
 "Thank you... Now to start a new hunt."


[User]
 It is April, the start of spring, and in most schools, the start of warm months and the new school year. As the weather gets hotter, the flowers bloom and the trees blossom, a new year of friendships, rivalries, classes and exams begin, forming the routine of the majority of students in Japan.

Snow Cherry isn't most schools. As far north as it is located, it never really gets warmer than room temperature, and it has its own schedule that precludes winter breaks or routine classes. One thing it does share with most high schools, however, is the teenagers, and their webs of socialization and romance. Into this web, Arima Akira fell like a fly, quickly becoming the new person of interest in Snow Cherry. However, while there are a lot of rumors about him, and a lot of people trying to be friends with him, Akira himself remains an enigma. This is bad news for all the girls who want to be more than just friends with the young man.

As one of those girls, it is your job to crack the puzzle, through whatever means possible. Most students of Snow Cherry have their own set of skills, and they are encouraged to make the most of their talents (even if this is not necessarily the field the school intended). This morning, you can:

- Use your contacts to find out about Akira's schedule for the day.  (Allure Roll, D4, get 1 VP)
- Use your skills to figure out how to impress Akira (and possibly other students).  (Skill Roll, D4, get +1 to next unopposed roll)
- Stumble upon Akira by some odd coincidence.  (Luck Roll, D5, get 1 VP)


[User]
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[User]
 terrifying secret of her own

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[User] [Post removed by author.]

[User]
 The divines where brothers... the eldest one, Bazíllith was born and raised in pain & abuse, enduring through his life, learning, growing, becoming an abomination of what he was intended to be, although it was not his fault, his progenitors decided that this experiment has gone wrong... and tried to kill him, but death came to the engineers, by the same hands of what they had created, until the day he took the life of his engineers was the day his brothers and sister were born, freed of they enclosure where this engineers kept them.

That was many many centuries ago, and since then his powers have grown beyond imagination, they didn´t realize that the day Bazillith took the engineers life, their duty of creators and destructors felt upon him and his brothers, and the time has come.. the time to create.

     Brothers, join me... the time has come, shall we not make the same mistakes as our predecessors, i´ll take the first step.... Mortals shall they remain, life spams as long,  as a week for ourselves, And in a Land of Frost they´ll live.

[User]
 Astilabor, is the second eldest and the only female of them all.
Constantly looking to compensate for what Bazíllit Does, so their creations won´t suffer, as Bazillith did, after all... hers is the purest heart, and deep down Bazillith has one too. Steping behind him, she places her hand on his left shoulder, her face over his right one, and gently with her right hand takes bazilliths one and together, they raise their arms pointing at the amorphous mass inbetween the void.

  ... Not only on Ice & Snow you´ll live, should you disspair look into the horizon and warmth you´ll feel. The amorphus mass comes to the form of an Sphere, an Easter Continent Arises, sand, grass, and hills appear, endless forest covers the plains, finally A Sun.

[User]
 Raehgories, the strong, it´s the mightiest of them all... maybe not the most clever, but when it comes to  raw,phsycal and destruction power there´s no match for him.

Mighty seas shall be in between of them, only the strongest & bravest ones, would dare to cross it.
Islands on the South, will be, where fire and mountains shall remain dominant, a beautiful contrast, with the breath taking shores and breeze, and there the land will be prosper, for the ones able to tame the land.

[User]
 A thousand years of peace... of exploring...of getting to know this newly born world & its inhabitants. how would they behave... i could not help but to wonder, when circumstances change, and differences are noted between the races, this uninvolved mortals, i´ll bestow my gift on my Continent..

 I bestow on you my child... a terrible gift, as Bazillith out of the void shapes 4 spears, and with a swift movement of his wrist sends them to this world... as the spears fall  in the northern continent (the frostfelll) the primitive mortals, seem to diverge as time seem to instantly accelerate for just a moment and a mist goes over the landscape, as it starts dispersing you can see some of them go into deep in to the mountains, others explore underground Caves, most of them remain on the surface, and some just dissapear.
Finally Bazillith proyects a close up to his Children... and you notice his work, they evolved... Humans (surface), Drows (underground), And tieflings (mountains) are now in existence.  Now the cleansing wars can begin.

[User]
 Perplexed by his eldest brother´s Intervention, Raehgories summons some spears as well... and throws them at his isles. Orcs, Giants, Dwarfs... and Gnolls (as PC race) now roam his territories.

 Shall the strongest prevail!!! with some excitement in his voice,  he snaps his fingers and over the world a DarkGreen light flashes... and wild Beasts Roam the world now.(MM I-III... and only Chromatic Dragons shall exists. 😏)

[User] The lances appear on her hand... and throw at the world they are... Cleasing wars Began, so recive my favor! (Elfs, Snow Elfs, Aasimars) one spear falls in to the ocean, and Astilabor smiles... my secret Realm, you shall be...and your power unmatched (mermades, tritons and sea-people On a Subaquactic realm)... a diminutive tear of purple fire leaks from her eye, and she throws it to the world... and now, the Masters of the arcane shall exist. but only those that have the ¨fire¨ in his blood.(sorcerers.. no wizards😦)

[User]
 BLood of my Blood, my brothers... We´re not creating this as we should, we´re giving them everything.
Raehgar you wnat them to prove their strenght... Bazillith, you want them to embraze the suffering, and prove their worth... I want them to love, and Embraze their life...
A shout comes out of Astilabor, and the nature covers all surface of the planet, oceans rise, moutains spit fire, blizzard cover the north, forest spread, and plains  change.
Dragons should Rule this world o fulfill our desires.
Elves would be the great kingdom trying to overcome their rule, Thus a great War there is between Dragons and ElvenKin. (elves are the most common race, withe great kingdoms over the world, instead of humans).
Elves created through magic (remember that only sorcerers exist) a great warrior, this its the key to their ¨success¨ against them Dragons.

 Spoiler
Eladrin.
+2 Dexterity, +2 Charisma, -2 Constitution.
Like the elves, Eladrin are agile and charismatic. They are also very knowledgeable.
Humanoid (Fey)
Medium sized.
Eladrin base land speed is 40ft (8 squares)
Darkvision 60ft.
Skill bonus: +2 knowledge arcane, +2 knowledge history, +2 spot and listen for regular settings).
Eladrin education: You gain training in one additional skill (4 in regular settings).
Eladrin weapon proficiency: Eladrin gain proficiency with the longsword.
Fey origin: Eladrin are considered to be fey for the prupose of effect that relate to creature types. Also, rather than sleep, an Eladrin enter a meditative state know as a trance. Eladrin need to spend 4 hours in this state to gain the benefit of a full night of sleep.
Immune to magical sleep and effect. +5 vs. charm.
Twilight jump: 1/day an eladrin can make an dimensional jump, through the fey dimension and move up to his base land speed per day, this is a swiftt action. (they can make up to 8 jumps of 5ft each.. or just 1 of 40 ft.)
Magical nature: The eladrin gain a +1 bonus on charisma-based saving throw (+1 on will saving throw in regular settings).
Automatic Languages: Common and Elven. Bonus Languages: Gnomish, Sylvan, Orc, Dwarven, halfing, Draconic and Primordial.

[User]
 Fair enough Sister... but i want them to prove their worth or embrace the suffering.
From the core of the planet, i shall create a place of sinister evil and institutional cruelty organized in a strict caste system with a very rigid chain of command (nine hells of Baator.  😏) [this is an actual place inside the planet. not a different plane of existence] each mortal that dies and did´t prove worthy of our gift shall suffer for as long as i desire in this place.
Devils won´t live outside this place for as long as i live.

[User]
 Dragons should be the dominat race indeed... but as their breeding its slower that those of the mortals, they will be for ever out numbered, thousands to one.

That´s why their armies consist in different reptiloids too.

DragonBorn

 Spoiler
-2 Dexterity, +2 Constitution ,
Built for combat, these warriors are hardy combatants, but not as agile as other races.
However, Dragonborn are also respectful and relatively easy to get along with when they're not raging or debating about their history.
Humanoid (Reptilian)
Medium-size: As medium-size creatures, Dragonborn have no special bonuses or penalties due to their size.
Dragonborn base land speed is 30 feet.
Low-Light Vision: A Dragonborn can see twice as far as a human in starlight, moonlight, torchlight, and similar conditions of poor illumination.
He or She retains the ability to distinguish color and detail under these conditions.
Dark vision 30ft.
Natural armor +2
Immunity to sleep effects.
+2 racial bonus to Intimidate and Knowledge (History) checks: Dragonborn are skilled at making themselves fearsome, and are also deeply rooted in the glorious stories of days long past.
Dragon Breath (Su): When creating a Dragonborn, choose 1 energy type (acid, cold, electricity, fire) and 1 type of breath weapon (15 ft. cone or 30 ft. Line ) as your breath weapon.
These selections cannot be changed after they have been chosen. Once per day, as a standard action, a Dragonborn can use their breath weapon to deal 1d8 damage to all within the area of the breath
(Reflex save for half: DC 10+1/2 Dragonborn HD+Constitution modifier). At 5th level the damage increases to 2d8, and increases by 1d8 every five levels thereafter.
Automatic Languages: Common and Draconic. Bonus Languages: Abyssal, Auran, Celestial, Goblin, Ignan, Orc.

Kobols (with a minor change)

 Spoiler
+2 Dexterity, –4 Strength, (no Con penalty).
Humanoid (Reptilian).
Small size: +1 bonus to Armor Class, +1 bonus on attack rolls, +4 bonus on Hide checks, –4 penalty on grapple checks, lifting and carrying limits 3/4 of those of Medium characters.
A kobold’s base land speed is 30 feet.
Darkvision out to 60 feet.
+1 natural armor bonus.
Light Sensitivity (Ex): Kobolds are dazzled in bright sunlight or within the radius of a daylight spell.
+2 racial bonus on Craft (trapmaking), Profession (miner), and Search checks.
Automatic Language: Draconic. Bonus Languages: Common, Undercommon.
they can select one trait of the following.
Wings (su)  Fly speed (good) twice his land speed
Breath (su) 1d4 /2 HD, 15ft cone
senses(su) tremorsense 15ft.

Lizardfolk

 Spoiler
+2 Constitution, -2 Intelligence. Lizardfolk are sturdy and simple.
Medium: Lizardfolk are Medium creatures, and have no bonuses or penalties due to their size.
Normal Speed: Lizardfolk have a base speed of 30 feet.
Swimming: Lizardfolk have a swim speed of 15 feet. A lizardfolk has a +8 racial bonus on any Swim check to perform some special action or avoid a hazard. A lizardfolk can always choose to take 10 on a Swim check, even if distracted or endangered. A lizardfolk can use the run action while swimming, provided he swims in a straight line.
Hold Breath: A lizardfolk can hold its breath for a number of rounds equal to 4 times its Constitution score before it risks drowning.
Natural Weapons: Lizardfolk possess natural claw attacks that inflict 1d4 points of damage on a successful hit. This is a primary attack, or a secondary attack if the lizardfolk wields a manufactured weapon.
Well-Balanced: Lizardfolk receive a +4 racial bonus on Acrobatics checks.
Languages: Lizardfolk begin play speaking Draconic. Lizardfolk with high Intelligence can choose bonus languages from the following: Aquan, Common, Goblin, Gnoll, or Orc.


[User]
 The morning was a dreary one, but the day was bright and sunny, summer was still here and the white bird would be banished from the minds of those who seek the misfortune of men.

Men and woman were about their work, including the messenger who bought you news this day:

The king has requested your presence.

It was simple and bland, perhaps written in by the hand of the actual Hand? Who knew, it bore the 3 headed dragon of the Targaryen royal seal, and with that, your acquiescence.

King  Maekar I  was a good ruler, having come into the after his brother Aerys I died in his bed, childless.

The summer has weakened and the great drought was over, King Maekar had called Edwyle Stark as his Hand and Warden of the North. The current year is 225, the King is 51 and has 3 sons and 2 daughters to his sister Aelinor (34) Targaryen, their sons are Daeron (35), Aerion(33), Aemon (27), Rhae(23), and Daella(19).

[User]
 Godric eyed the message with distaste, he hated being summoned anywhere, but as a loyal servant he would obey the kings command..
He rose from his desk and shouted at a guard stationed outside his study.  "The king has requested my presence, inform Josiah that I require him and 30 of his best men to make preparation to leave, we leave in 2 days. I intend to be at the docks when my sister arrives tomorrow. Also, my uncle will be in charge here while we are gone."

As the guard saluted and went on his way Godrics thoughts idly turned to his sister..  "I hope her time with the red priests haven't changed her overmuch... the last thing this family needs is a religious nutcase."


[User]
 As soon as you manage to cross the chasm somehow, the ground rumbles and stairs appear before you, leading downwards into a dungeon.

Accepting this challenge, you follow the stairs until they lead you into a dimly lit corridor...

 Map:
{table=head] ||A|B|C|D|E|F|G|H|I|J|K|
|#|#|#|#|#|#|#|#|#|#|#||#
1|#| < || @ |||||||||#
|#|#|#|#|#|#|#|#|#|#|#|#|# [/table]

 Spoiler: Notes
I hope the map serves its purpose.

In true roguelike fashion, you are represented by the  @ . If you prefer a different color, please say so.
# denote walls
 <  denote stairs(these lead upwards)

 General information:
 Stone walls (ordinary masonry, climb DC 20)
 Flagstone floor (no bonuses or penalties to movement)
 dim lighting level (glowing crystals in the walls at about 10ft height, every 20ft)

The ceiling is about 20ft high. Upon turning back, you notice a invisible forcefield(akin to  Wall of Force )at B1 barring the way back.

 Spoiler: DM notes
 Fortash, Orc Fighter 1/Champion 1
0/2000xp  -Medium progression


[User]
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[User]
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[User]
 The Dwarves at first struggled through the snow in the high peaks. One by one dropping of frostbite. Pushing onward as they had no choice.
Harald made his way through the blizzard to lead the column along with his loyal champion and the last remaining elders of the tribe.
Up steep mountain paths, with the wind, and snow against them. Rockfalls constantly taking many civilians with them.
The sounds of children crying into the cold air slowly faded away as one by one they died in the horrors of the frostfell mountains.

On the second day the group reached a peak, just as the blizzard cleared and the sun shone down on them through white clouds, though it did nothing to warm them and the air was now thin - leading to the last of the elders dying, prayers to Nordi on their frozen lips. Stretching out as far as the eyes could see was more mountains, more snow and more clouds.
Their hearts sank. Behind them was a horde of Trolls, Ogres and Goblins. To the west were white Dragons. The Dwarves had to chose to find somewhere to make a new home, or head east to a Realm that was mere rumors, and become forever refugees in a foreign land.

It was here that Harald, kneeling in the snow, on the verge of giving up, with tears of pain and anguish frozen into his beard saw the stone. It was small, made of a type of stone he had never seen, though he surmised it came from the underdark. On it were Dwarvish Runes, faded from the passages of time. Worn and ancient, impossibly ancient...
 " Here lies the path to salvation for the lost, and last of the Azure Dwarves. Welcome home. "

For a moment Harald's heart stopped. A strange sense of clarity washed over him, mingling with the fear. Looking up at a nearby peak Harald saw the clouds break open. A single beam of light shone down on the rock face, right onto a cave entrance. A hushed awe broke through the other Dwarves that had made it. Only a mere 600 or so of the Cobolon Dwarves were now left.
They could all feel it, like an electric current in the air.  Hope .

With renewed vigor the Dwarves marched back down the mountain top, into frozen gullies and dead pine forests, back up through the snow and over rocks. It took a day and a night. Fighting exhaustion, frostbite, and starvation the Dwarves struggled onward. Till the dawn of the following day Harald stood at the entrance to the cave. Right away he could tell that it was not natural. Though only a dwarf could have noticed.
It was clear that the cave had been designed to appear natural. While being nothing of the sort.

Leading his people into the dark they found a cave that offered shelter, a natural spring and even edible fungus grew here. As if made for them. As if someone had prepared this place, for this time just for them.
The Cobolon Dwarves stopped in silence, ate, rested, tended to their wounds. As one they all joined in silent prayers of thanks to Nordi, before setting off down into the depths of the earth.
Another day they trekked. Each time they grew hungry there way another well and more edible fungus just around the next bend. The cave become more and more obvious that it had been crafted by expert hands. Runes, the like the Cobolon Dwarves had never seen before, began appearing on the cave walls. They lit up in a soft gentle blue glow as they passed by, fading once more into darkness as they moved on. Lighting their way gentle down into the depths.

A week after fleeing Cobolon they arrived, stepping out onto a landing that looked down onto the City of Helduum. The great cavern was a hive of activity. The mighty walls of the city stretched across the front facing the Cobolon Dwarves, massive square squat towers dotted along it's mighty line. A castle built into the sides of the cavern wall and towering from floor to ceiling filled the rear of the city, it's own defensive walls around it. Houses lay stacked like toy blocks upon one another or built in towers hewn from the rock walls themselves. Mines opened holes into the walls of the settlement delving deep into the earth. Forges and smelters were scattered about, smoke billowing up to form dark clouds around the top of the cavern.
Crystal lights lit the streets with glowing blue runic light.

As the Cobolon Dwarves stood there in awe a glowing figure floated across the vast distance toward them. Recognition dawned on the Dwarves as they fell to their knees. Their God had saved them. Their God had come to them.
It was Nordi.

[User]
 Nordi floats closer, smile barely visible beneath his thick, silver beard, each filament a a soul of one of the forefathers, reborn as part of a god. Empty eyesockets stare sightlessly at the new arrivals, filled with a blue-gold fire. Nordi's entire body seems held together by will alone, a poorly glued together statue of black rock with blue-gold radiance shining through the cracks. And then he speaks, his voice soft, yet reaching every ear of those he is addressing with ease.

   "Welcome Home, my Friends, my Family. You are no doubt weary of the travails you have had to endure. But endure them you did. Rest now, recuperate, so that you can grow strong once more, working together as One, so that such a tragedy may never again occur."

Nordi strikes the earth with his hammer, spilling forth many fine ores of iron and mithral, even some adamantium, obviously for the use of his faithful. Then he slowly fades out of view.

 Spoiler
So corny. T_T Using Divine Earth Mastery to make some resources for the dwarves if that's okay with the DM, since he complained a booze fountain is too cliche. Anyway, better get out of here before I say something stupid. (My cha is 7)

[User]
 A short white haired and bearded dwarf approaches the survivors from the local forge. His piercing blue eyes seem to take in the scene grimly and offer a surprising warmth to his approach.

 Greetings young-lings and welcome to Helduum the City of Steel and refuge to all dwarvenkind. You all seem exhausted from your long trip, while our lord has provided along the way, there are a few ails that could be cured otherwise or ways. If you would follow me and I will take you to a communal hearth that has been prepared for you, and I will call upon some of our lords clergy to tend to your wounded and sick.

After leading the Shield Dwarves to their hearth, Brokk will then go grab some ale and try to raise some spirits of both kinds. As well as putting a call out to the clerics.

 To those we have lost. Vengence shall be theirs against your hated foes. Now drink and be merry for tonite you are safe from the ravages of what has been. Tomorrow we shall forge ahead.

[User]
 As the glowing spirit of Nordi greeted the refugees, Harald fell to his knees and wept.  Against all hope, against all reason, they had found safety.  The spirits of old had answered them, and Harald could feel a great weight lift of his shoulders.  The dwarves of Azuregard had lost much.  The home they had built was gone, lost to the terrifying might of the greenskin horde.  In its place, they had found something new.  Their oldest ancestor had appeared before them, and welcomed them home.

Helduum.  It could be no other.  The ancient dwarfholm that legend told the King Rasmus had led the ancestors of those who would become Azuregard away from.  The old bridge between Asgard and the Material Plane.  Though the truth might be far from the old tales, it was far from anything Harald could have hoped to find.  And so Harald wept, for his people were safe at last.

As the elder dwarf drew closer, Harald wiped his tears away.  He had shown enough vulnerability for one day.  Using his hammer to stand, Harald bowed to the dwarf.   "Greetings, noble elder.  I am Harald, son of Albreckt, son of Martin, former King of Azuregard.  We would be most thankful for your aid.  I would be most thankful for your aid.  Whom do I address?"

[User] I am Brokk the smith, forger of artifacts, master weapon smith, and lord of the forge young lordling. Come, let us be on our way, get your people settled in comfort.

[User]
 Durin Frostbeard
 Helduum - City of Steel

As his god Nordi addressed the newly arrived dwarves and blessed them with a wonderous miracle of precious metals and gems, Durin stood aside in silent worship.  Moments such as these were rare, for a Cleric stand in the presence of his deity was something he would cherish forever.

The moment brought him hope, and left him in awe.  The feeling would serve to fuel his faith for years to come.

It took Durin a few long moments to clear his mind and once again regain his senses, but his focus was soon enough on this world and the dwarves in need.  Having a strong desire for his pipe, he grabbed it out of his belt pouch, lit the sweet smelling leaves inside and took a long pull.

Thick and sweet smelling smoke clung to him as he approached the newly arrived King and the Smith who he was talking to, as the smith finished his own introduction the old Cleric did the same.  "I am Durin, Cleric of Nordi.  It is my honor to welcome you to Helduum."  His face was lined with age, but it was cheerful enough behind his bushy beard.

 Tag:  THEChanger & Alihandros


[User]
 The Dominion

 Day 1

[User] Today, we've hidden from the world long enough.  I've gathered some forces from the nine hells to gather information of the lands beyond our borders, and how suitable they are for habitation.  While we know a little from what trade we have accumulated, and from the collective lore, these reports aren't reliable.  Our last ruler brought us to where we are today, a powerful city state.  Today, I take our first steps towards an Empire.


[User]
 The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the catburgler came stalking—
Stalking— stalking—
The catburgler came stalking, up to the mansion door.

The Cordwainer residence was not the most welcoming she had ever seen.  Nor did it make for the easiest target.  Nor, as a matter of fact, was it particularly convenient to get to.  Claudia was going to have to give her feet a good soak after this one.  Still, it was always wise to spread out her depredations as much as possible.  And she was sorely lacking a suitable necklace to go with the regal gown she'd pulled on the last heist, and wouldn't you know but a little birdy had suggested there might be just such a piece here.

Of course, there were certain risks to working off intel a dozen years old.

Old Mr Almoner may have died with little enough money, barely managing a half-decent plot two rows down from Claudia's mausoleum, but he had once been a wealthy man, and blamed his downfall on Ms Cordwainer, the better part of a century ago when she'd been  Miss  Cordwainer.  He'd never gone into the details, but he'd talked on and on and  on  about a diamond necklace he'd given her.  The dead could be interminable like that.  He'd been utterly insistent about getting the necklace out of Ms Cordwainer's hands, though, and Claudia was more than happy to oblige.

The necklace might still be there, or it might not.  For that matter, Ms Cordwainer herself might be long in her grave or not; she'd be over a hundred if she was this was far beyond Claudia's usual range.  Certainly the house showed signs of disrepair, though light still flowed through one window.  Someone was home.  And the local constabulary were housed not a five minute walk away - a vigorous scream could cover that distance easily enough.

Caution would be required.  But that's fine.  You don't get to assemble the most exquisite outfit in the entire county without taking a few risks.  And if grand larceny was what it would take for Mr Almoner to stop talking about that blasted necklace, well then, grand larceny it would be.

 Spoiler
The house is as pictured.  Stone construction dominates, with some small sections of brickwork right at the top.  The whole house is raised, a two-story sheer stone wall encircling it except for a single bifurcating staircase at the front.  Climbing it would be manageable for someone of your skill, though not swift without a rope.

The time of day is dusk.  The light is on in the left side of the second floor.

[User] Claudia approaches the house, staying in the shadows as much as possible.  So far there are no signs of dogs or guards outside so she makes her way to the window and peers in, trying to catch a glimpse of the occupant. or occupants.

[User]
 Stealth  (1d20+15)[ 27 ]
Perception  (1d20+11)[ 28 ]

[User] Narry a leaf stirs under her feet as she ascends.  The light is on the second floor; the first looks empty and largely disused.  Several of the rooms seem to have been closed off for some time.

[User]
 Claudia approaches one of the unused rooms, checking to see how well sealed the windows are.

Perception  (1d20+11)[ 28 ]

[User] The window is stiff, but can be opened without too much effort.  As you pry open the window, the smell of musty old books is almost overpowering.  The room beyond is lined with book-cases, everything from florid novels to old diaries to trades manuals, but whatever furniture is draped in dust-laden sheets.


[User]
 Laramie can feel the crowd of students scattering around her, more screaming, bodies jostling her back and forth.

She hears something passing her, heading down on the stairway. Muffled sounds of panic, a blob of shadows, and when they pass under one of the lights nearby she can make out what it is. Two shadows, one grabbing hold of the other, dragging them bodily and clearly against their will down the stairs. She can see a hand clamped over a mouth, but when her eyes land on the face of the attacker she sees something...different.

It's a mask. It must be, but it's horrifying. A mass of shredded fabric that looks like torn flesh, gashes where eyes should be, a gaping black mouth. She can just see it for a second, then it's pulling its captive further down the stairs.

 Spoiler
Here's a cool sanity check for you:  18 . You only lose 1 sanity.

What would you like to do?


[User]
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[User]
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[User] Forget it...


[User] Our story opens with the heroes seated at their usual table in the back. Introductions are unnecessary, as the group has been together for some time. A new face is with you, Nathan, the cleric you have recently hired. Although a cleric, he is a member of the Paladins of St. Cuthbert, and he has offered you a quest in exchange for your gracious hiring: travel below the city and return with some dwarven records. Although a seemingly menial task, it is difficult and important, and one Nathan must complete, with or without you. You see immediately the advantage of accompanying him--no other clerics were nearly as suitable to your party as he, and keeping him alive would be beneficial to you. Beside that, the Unter (the outskirts of Unterschaft) is rumored to be littered with valuable dwarvencraft artifacts, all of which have inflated value since Unterschaft was sealed. Nathan has promised that he is only interested in the records--anything else you find below is yours to keep, or sell. You are not sure how you will make your way underground, but Nathan seems to believe the rumors that the dwarf families still on the surface have some secret passage down.


[User]
 As the Pelican soars over the clear, open water, you suddenly feel it jerk as one of it's thrusters deactivate. With the right thruster off, the Pelican turns sharply around the edge of the cliff and comes into view of the outpost, but continues to turn.
In the few seconds it's visible to the outpost, the Pelican pulls a drift and spins right around in front of it, the open hatch lining up perfectly with the steel dock over the water.   "Sorry folks, last stop for the night! Everyone off!"
AS the Pelican holds itself over the water for those two seconds, the soldiers that do notice it spot you all standing in the back, not quite registering that you're not allies of the Insurrection. Most farther inside the base just failed to see the Pelican.

*Surprise Round*

Squad 1

 Spoiler

[User]
 "  Let's move, people!  "

Jersey let loose a shot from her rifle at the insurrectionist standing just behind the gate, working on the assumption that he was nearest to the controls. Without waiting to see the result of the shot, she ran up to get just outside the gates.

 Spoiler
Here we go! So Jersey will be firing her DMR at the guy at the right hand gate. Regardless of whether or not it hits, she'll then move the full 30 ft. to get to the space left and down from that same soldier.

Attack Roll (-2 to targets defence for being a DMR) -  (1D20+3)[ 11 ]
Damage Roll -  (2D10+2)[ 8 ]
Crit. Confirm (if appropriate) -  (1D20+3)[ 23 ]
Additional Crit. Damage (if appropriate) -  (2D10+2)[ 13 ]

[User]
 "  Michigan, Dakota, take cover at the gate once the guards are down.  "

California raises his rifle and fires on the guard standing behind the gate.

 Spoiler
Attack:  (1d20+4)[ 6 ]  (count defense as 2 lower)
Crit Confirm:  (1d20+4)[ 24 ]
Damage:  (2d10)[ 4 ]
Extra Damage if crit:  (2d10)[ 16 ]

[User]
 North drops to one knee inside the Pelican as she raises her rifle, pulling the trigger as she lines the soldier on her left into her sights and pulls the trigger, then rushes forward, leaping from the Pelican as she kicks off from her knee and runs up the docks.

 Spoiler
All flavor text, not actual long going prone or aiming.
Attack:  (1d20+2)[ 14 ]
Damage:  (2d10+2)[ 12 ]
Confirm crit:  (1d20+2)[ 10 ]

  "You know your gun has sights, right? Stop embarasing yourselves!"

[User]
 "You're the boss California"   Michigan says following North as he jumps from the ship taking aim. Seeing that California and Jersey are firing on one man Michigan elcets to fire on the same man North is.

  Buildings everywhere, no trees in sight. Would it kill people to add some trees in.

 Spoiler

M392 DMR shot
Attack  (1d20+1)[ 14 ]
Damage  (2d10)[ 10 ]

If I crit, to confirm
Attack  (1d20+1)[ 5 ]
Damage  (2d10)[ 10 ]

[User]
 As the Pelican flies off and you rush forward, the soldier to the right stumbles backwards as the shots connect with the main gate, and two bullets find their mark in the left soldier, knocking him to the ground

Initiative:

 Spoiler
Jersey:  (1d20+3)[ 21 ]
Michigan:  (1d20+1)[ 6 ]
California:  (1d20+3)[ 17 ]
North Dakota:  (1d20+2)[ 18 ]
Soldier (K1):  (1d20+2)[ 16 ]
Soldier (G7):  (1d20+2)[ 22 ]
Soldier (F10):  (1d20+2)[ 13 ]
Soldier (F14):  (1d20+2)[ 21 ]
Soldier (L15):  (1d20+2)[ 20 ]
 Soldier (M12):
Soldier (D4):  (1d20+6)[ 9 ]
Soldier (I13):  (1d20+6)[ 23 ]
Soldier (H23):  (1d20+6)[ 23 ]

Soldier (I13) moves forward two squares towards the dock, taking aim at Jersey with her SMG, and opening fire.

 Spoiler

Attack: [roll]1d20+4[/roll]
Damafe: [roll]1d10-1[/roll]

Soldier (H23) moves towards the gate diagonally.

Soldier G7 stays in position.

 Jersey's turn:

 Spoiler

[User]
 Attack:  (1d20+4)[ 18 ]
Damage:  (1d10-1)[ 3 ]

[User]
 Jersey does her best to ignore the fire coming her way and presses through to get past the gates before they can close. As she moves, she briefly aims and fires a shot off at the soldier with the SMG.

"  California! Cover my right!  "

 Spoiler
As an automatic weapon, does the SMG not allow a DC15 Reflex save to avoid? (Seen  here  under "autofire")

Assuming that Jersey is allowed to try and avoid it, Reflex Save -  (1D20+4)[ 10 ]

Attack against the soldier firing the SMG, defence is at -2 for this attack -  (1D20+3)[ 21 ]
Damage Roll -  (2D10+2)[ 11 ]
Crit. Confirm (if appropriate, defence at -2 vs. this) -  (1D20+3)[ 18 ]
Additional Crit. Damage (if appropriate) -  (2D10+2)[ 15 ]

After taking the shot, she's going to move so as to be adjacent and to the left of the soldier that fired on her

[User]
 Spoiler
Jersey takes 3 damage from the autofire

Soldier (F14) stays in his position up on the rooftop.

Soldier (L15) takes a step back and opens fire on Jersey with his assault rifle.

 Spoiler
Attack:  (1d20+4)[ 17 ]
Damage:  (2d8)[ 7 ]

 North Dakota and California's turn.

 Spoiler
As long as there is no enemy turn between your turn and the current turn, you can post. This is just to speed up combat.

[User]
 " Okay, lets see if I can actually hit someone this time... " California moves next to the left side of the gate, and fires at the soldier now in K15

 Spoiler
To Hit:  (1d20+4)[ 20 ]  -2 to target defense
Crit Confirm:  (1d20+4)[ 18 ]
Damage:  (2d10)[ 17 ]
If Crit:  (2d10)[ 10 ]


[User] Some of the game’s a lot of memorable moments action as you crop time to just accept in the angel afterwards advancing the adventitious forward. You adeptness acidity the   Watch Twilight Saga Breaking Dawn part 2 Online   artisan and sounds of continuing beneath a age-old night sky, for instance, or you adeptness accommodated Jim Guthrie himself in a bracken and allocation a absent jam action as you accomplish the bracken anxiety while Jim lays down a beat.   Dexter Season 7 Episode 8   It’s a bugged moment in a adventuresome abounding of a affectionate of allay adorableness that you hardly acclimation in games, or anywhere, for that matter. You get   Dexter Season 7 Episode 8   Guthrie’s ceremony for the adventuresome chargeless with your purchase, which is a air-conditioned bonus. Sword & Sworcery is alone a few hours long, accepting if you play it the way the adventuresome encourages you to play it, those few hours may be beat    Dexter Season 7 Episode 8   over a accumulated of weeks. But accepting its brevity, the adventuresome doesn’t feel too short. It’s a able emphasis that leaves you action like you’ve candid an important and advancing   The Walking Dead Season 3 Episode 6   acclimation through to completion, and gives you memories to keep. Casting & Sworcery casts such a arresting spell, you may anamnesis your time in this amazing and emblematic   The Walking Dead Season 3 Episode 6   accretio n ceremony time you see the moon activated in the night sky.Condemned Heroes pulls no punches and offers no surprises. This stand-alone accretion to the atrociously back Men of War real-time action alternation   The Walking Dead Season 3 Episode 6   offers added of the aloft as candid in the above-mentioned Vietnam and Beat Casting games. Adversity has been scaled ashamed a bit from that of accept year’s abundantly boxlike absolution set in the jungles of Vietnam, but that has in changeabout been   The Walking Dead Season 3 Episode 6   ceremony by atramentous missions put calm afterwards a lot in the way of imagination.

[User] You should try this online  war game , named MarketGlory. It got me interested from the first time I played it. The more you play, the more options you have, and you can convert your virtual currency into real money, too. I am so glad that there are browser-based  war games , too, nowadays. With just a few minutes of your time a day, you can make pretty much extra money.


[User]
 You are goblins of the Licktoad tribe, who live deep in Brinestump Marsh, south of the hated man-town called Sandpoint. Once, other goblins tried to burn Sandpoint down, and they would have been legends if they had succeeded. But they didn’t bring enough fire, and got themselves killed as a result.

Yesterday, your tribe discovered that one of your own had been using forbidden arts and was engaged in one of the greatest of taboos—writing things down. In fact, rumor holds that what he was writing was a history of your tribe! There’s no swifter way to bring about bad luck than stealing words out of your mind by writing them down, and so your tribe had no choice. You branded the goblin’s face with letters to punish him, which is why everyone calls him Scribbleface now, and then you ran him out of town, took all of his stuff, and burned down his hut.

That’s where things got interesting, because before you all burned down his hut, Chief Gutwad found a weird box within the building. Inside was a map and a lot of fireworks—fireworks that immediately came to use in burning the hut down. Then, this morning, Gutwad announced that tonight there would be a feast in order to drive out any lingering bad luck from Scribbleface’s poor decisions. But perhaps even more exciting, all of you have been secretly invited to meet at Chief Gutwad’s Moot House. Why would the chief want to speak to you? It can only mean that he’s got an important mission for you all... one that the other goblins of the tribe couldn’t pull off. This could be your chance to go down in Licktoad history!

Slorb, advisor to His Mighty Girthness Chief Rendwattle Gutwad, has rounded you all up and herded you to the chief's Moot House at the center of the village. As you duck under the grimy hides that server as a door, your jaws drop in awe. There is so much GREAT STUFF in here! Chief Gutwad is truly glorious. Stolen swords, stolen fences, pickled dog feet, pickled horse feet...it's like a museum of pure amazing.

Slorb leads you further back into the hut. Perched atop the great Teetering Chair, surveying his domain from 6 feet in the air, is Chief Gutwad. Gutwad is, for lack of a better word, fat.

" Down! Down, sit in dirt! Great honor to sit in dirt in front of His Mighty Girthness!! " squeals Slorb in a high, nasally voice.

Before any of you can move, though, Chief Gutwad addresses you directly in a deep, booming voice:
 “You all be heroes. Each of you. You are best Licktoads but for me...and maybe but for Slorb. But still almost best!

That you aren’t fleeing in terror from mighty sound of my voice is all the proof you should need. Yet soon, all Licktoad goblins will know your might, for I have picked you for a dangerous mission.

“You know about fireworks and map we found in Scribbleface’s hut. Fireworks were fun. But map is more fun. It shows a route to a place near the coast where Scribbleface found fireworks. And it says there are more fireworks there! I want them for Licktoads.

You all go get them tomorrow. Tonight we have big bonfire to burn bad luck away from you, and we play many games. Much fun. Tomorrow you fetch me fireworks.
If you meet men: you make them dead.
If you meet dogs, you  make them dead .
If you meet horses, you make. them. dead.
If you meet Lotslegs Eat Goblin Babies Many, you maybe should run though.
And if you not find fireworks, you not comeback or we feed you to Squealy Nord!”

Slorb shrieks in fright at this last threat, then quickly ushers you out.
  "Out! Out! Get out now and get ready for feast tonight!"  Slorb hands you the map to the fireworks cache.

[User]
 Putting her grubby mitts on the grubbier face of whichever goblin was given the map, Miss Rita pushes them down (and spits, if necessary) while grabbing the map from them.  (If Rita was given the map, then she does it to another goblin out of force of habit before realizing she has it.)

Turning to her less physically dominant companions as they leave the hut, she screeches a little announcement of her own to them.

"  Rita's head biggest AND prettiest, Her sword is carviest.  Othergobs follow my lead, Rita maybe not pull hair and scream.  Not afraid of dogs, not afraid of gobs, not afraid of nothin'!  "

[User]
 "Rita foolish!"  Poog snapped, picking himself up out of the dirt as Dogfinder clambered back atop his bald head.  "Allgobs afraid of Zarongel. Zarongel bring fire! Zarongel make us dogkillers! His Girthness send us to find fireworks - this Zarongel's work! Poog of Zarongel give holy blessing to glorious mission, then  Poog  show othergobs what to do!"

The scrawny little goblin closed his eyes and waved his arms in a mystic manner, making holy-sounding noises under his breath. The effect was only slightly spoiled by Dogfinder attempting to eat something crawling out of his ear.

[User] Mogmurch shook his head.   "You both silly.  Still I will follow whoever is strongest."   He styled with his awesome jester hat and cool eye patch.   "What shall we do first?"

[User]
 Slorb pops his head out from the the Moot House.  "Go! Go away! Chief cannot be disturbed while he prepares for feast! Scram, or he change mind about you being great and just feed you to Squealy Nord! Or hang you out on a spike, make good dinner for Lotslegs Eat Goblin Babies Many creeping out of forest."

You can see goblins toiling all around the village to build the bonfire out of branches, sticks, and unburnt timbers taken from the ruins of Scribbleface’s hut.

[User] Mog starts to juggle various items.   "Clearly I'm the best and most talented among us.  I dare you to prove otherwise."

[User] "Poog show you Poog best!"  The little goblin declared.  "Poog do best at good-luck games tonight! Then all Licktoads see who has talent!"

[User]
 Even since they were in the chief's hut Chuffy was picking at one of the many pimples and boils *pop* Still doing it even when the other goblins are fighting.

"Chuffy best gob! Chuffy smart, Chuffy pretty, Chuffy strong, Chuffy talented, Chuffy...Chuffy...Chuffy best!" the goblin concluded and tried to make a grab at one of the items being juggled just to prove otherwise and spoil the whole thing.

[User] Mog snaps at him. "No messing with Mog's juggling.  This is boring.  Let's do something fun."


[User] Foreman end for campane


[User]
 There are many benefits to living in the city.  Shops on every street corner.  Water pumps every other.  By the Nine, there are streets.  For those who succeed in the city, it can be a paradise.  Tubs lined with gold, grapes from vineyards far to the west, silken robes woven by elven hands far to the east, and power from the realms far above and far below.  Yet, even for those who succeed, there is no rest in the city.  Even the greatest among the citizens of Marid’s Fall are constantly on watch, and even now their schemes are in work.

In the Wildren District, in his gleaming mirror tower, the Guildmaster of the Masters of Avalon, the Ruin Chanter sits at his desk.  Once, Marid’s Fall was his ruin.  But mortals came, and rebuilt his home.  And as they built it up, so they built him up.  Now the Ruin Chanter was a being of the city, sure as any of the mortals who ran beneath his feet.  A giant chessboard was laid out before him, and as the sun set beneath the horizon, the Ruin Chanter played a game with rules only he could comprehend.

Below the streets of the Smithy district, a council was being held.  Nine dwarves, faces colder than iron, sat around a mighty stone table.  At the head, a tenth figure, surrounded by a shroud of steam, pointed a single gauntleted finger at a newspaper which had been printed that morning by the gnomes of the Daily Gazette.  Not a word was spoken, for no words were needed between these ancient beings of earth.  They were almost as old as the Ruin Chanter, and twice as vindictive, and they would not take these offenses lightly.  The traitor would be found, and the status quo would be enforced.

As the shadows of dusk lengthened, in the Butchers’ District, a man purchased a flank of beef.  Coin was exchanged, as were pleasantries.  A scene completely ordinary to an outsider, but anyone who knew the city well would note that the shop in question belonged to the Bloodletters’ Guild, who catered to the elven population of the city-who were restricted by religious law from eating the meat of plains animals.  That, and the coins exchanged were certainly not gold.

In the center of the city, Portal Square, a solitary figure stood.  Massive, encased in armor decorated with onyx and bronze but carrying no weapons, the gigantic man stared at the nearby clocktower.  As the first bells began to toll, he stepped through an archway of bronze gears and brass pistons, but did not appear on the other side.  Nearby, the man’s master nodded once, and returned to the simple quarters which housed the Ringwarden’s Guild.

This, as dusk fell over Marid’s Fall, the city.

Now enter Marid’s Fall, the prison.

For though a city has many benefits, there are costs that come with it as well.  If you asked an average citizen of Marid’s Fall what their least favorite part of living there was, the answer one would inevitably receive over and over again is “How quickly things spread.”

News.
Poverty.
Plague.
Fire.

In the depths of the Elven Quarter, a dimly lit room hold hosts to a strange sort of party.  The men and women attending wore clothing of varying states of disrepair and wealth.  Elves all, the one thing their dress had in common was the masks.  For each wore a mask stylized to represent the Forest, an ancient elven deity.  And commanding the subtle attention of each party-goer was the pair standing deep in conversation-one in a crisp, three-piece suit, the other in a gown woven of ancient leaves.

By the Southern Gates of the city, a place known for the high amount of fiend-touched who live there, the clinking of chains could be heard.  A line of ragged and starved mortals, maybe fifty of varying origin and culture, were being led through the dusky streets by a group of men with red-tinged skin.  Each carrying a chain which in the fading light almost seemed to writhe on its own accord, the men directed their charges into a cemetery, and down the stairs of a deep mausoleum.  There, in a room lit by molten metal, ancient rites were being conducted, and unholy words spoken.  A pact of cold, rusting iron was being made, and for these men, nothing was stronger.

Between the Butcher’s District and the Milltown, by a mortal-fashioned river of blood and dye run-off, two former enemies met in secret.  Two madmen, by the dying light of the holy day, sealed their contract in blood, drug, and steam.  Though no formal agreement had been reached, two Families were rapidly approaching the day when they would become one, and for his part, Crazy Bob was most pleased.

In a much nicer part of town, the Three Stars Theatre had just finished the final performance of an old favorite,  The Desert King and the Raven .  Sophia Wood, reprising her seminal role as the Raven, had given what many would agree was one of the best performances of her career.  For a select few however, this night was not so much about what Sophia did, as what she didn’t do.  The message received, the two Aasimar quickly departed the theatre.  When Sophia returned to her dressing room, she knew her duty was complete, by the single phoenix feather upon her vanity.

And, finally, as Marid’s Fall’s clocktower struck the final peal to signal seven in the evening, five associates met in an abandoned warehouse by the common docks, to begin the most dangerous, and possibly most profitable, venture any had been a part of to date.

Finally, the sun set.  The jewel of the Confederacy of Blades slept.  Yet that night’s activity had barely begun…

[User]
 Fresh from the Technists Vault, after a lively monthly meeting, he came to the warehouse. Not in anything fancy, but this simple looking human, for those who knows where to look, has a cog on a necklace, where the a rune is carved. Simmilar to the giants rune writing, yet with... diffrent infulnces.

And he sits down, waiting for the others to get here, and see what the boss is planing.

[User] A young man in a suit, one of his favored forms, also took his place, saying nothing, but keeping his eyes on everything.

[User] A third joined the group, perching on an unused sconce.

[User] A mass of dirty patched robes lean against a lichen covered wall. Passerbys would have thought it simply garbage, if not for the random weathered hand or blacken sole stuck out through its many folds. As the clock tower echoes in the night, the robes rise up on uneasy feet and with a shuffling uneven gait staggers into the night. The robes stumble into an alley of an abandoned warehouse, before a click of a lock and screech of unoiled hinges break the silence. On the inside of the structure, a well dressed man walks with a purposeful and swift gait. He joins the assembly, sitting quietly as his eyes scour each patron. Apparently satisfied, he simply sits back in his chair and is still.

[User]
 Heavy metal footsteps killed off what silence remained. They were slow, and belonged to a tall, overbearing man who looked forward as he walked. Grabbing a crate, he dragged it behind him, its weight unable to slow the man's walk. He lets go of it, placing it in front of the other four, and sits on it, the wooden supports creaking under his weight. He looks up at the four of them, an expression of thought and aggressiveness displayed on it.

 "If you are currently disguised, raise your hand. If you have any protective magic on you right now, giving you some sort of 'edge' in the discussion we are about to have, get rid of it. As much as I enjoy the company of each of you, if you won't be honest here and now, I'm afraid you have no place in this talk.

"You all know me. You all know I called you here, because I said I have something you want. Something you crave. You know what it is. I know what it is. That can wait until later.

"You may or may not know one another. We're going to fix that.

"Say your name, talents and profession.

"I am Oren Weaver, I'm very good at throwing my weight around and I'm the head of my family."

[User]
 "I don't even do magic. Anyway, Matt's the name, mechanic is the trade. Member in good standing of the Tecnists guild, and a humble seller of cheap steamwork."

He says this cassually, and cheerfully.

[User] I'm Hyacincth. I make... "unfortunate accidents".  Or sometimes I just shoot them.

[User] Drat waits patiently as he listens to Oren.  Matt and Hyacincth, technology and accidents.   In the lull that followed Drat raised his hand and going against his philosophy he begins to say in rich voice,  "Disguised implies a desire to mislead or obscure some truth. While my current appearance is a facade, it is not meant to deceive who are gathered. It is meant to ensure my profession is done to the best of my ability. Consider my faces to be a sheath, it protects the keen edge within. You may call me Lucien..."  He hesitates a moment before saying, " But my birth name was Drat. My abilities encompass the arts of infiltration, subterfuge, espionage and information gathering. I'm also not opposed to dirtying my hands if the need arises. On a personal note I tend to be a tad long winded, but precise."

[User] Felldaren raises his hand slightly off of the table.  "I am Felldaren. I more or less do things similar to Drat, although I specialize mostly in the information."

[User]
 "Good. Glad to see you're being forward, Drat. The others'll open up in time."  Oren says, leaning his head to the right, a sharp crack ringing out. And again on the left.  "But that'll happen later on. As we start doing... business.

"I've lived in this city my entire life. There's good, there's bad, and they change whether they're one or the other constantly. If someone's dying, you can bet someone else finally fed their family. If someone's being robbed, you can bet he'll get poisoned. If someone finally achieved their dream, you can bet someone'll be there to put him back off of cloud nine, and take away his silver lining too.

"And frankly? I think the city could do better.

"Now, I'm not proposing we simply clean up the streets. And I'm not saying we should rule this city from the shadows.

"I'm saying we do both. And make a pretty coin off of doing so.

"My family has been more or less removed from the city for generations. Yes, we've had money, but we've also had reluctance and uncertainty. We've had doubts and no ambition whatsoever to keep people from screwing it over on a daily basis, regardless of how good or bad their deed is.

"But I plan on changing that.

"I plan on taking over this city, one building, one street, one block at a time, and keeping it from zealots and fools, making sure no one can worsen the city again without me knowing about it, without them thinking about what consequence lies in store.

"Now I know you all. Some longer than others. But I know for certain that if I'm going to do this, if I'm to pull this off, I'm going to need information. I'm going to need magic. I'm going to need eyes where many can't go. I'm going to need tech. And you all can provide that for me.

"And in return, I promise protection, coin and power.

"And possibly some bloodshed.

"We can iron out details later on, but the point remains now.

"Who is in?"

[User] I'm in. Coin, consistency, and power; what's to dislike?

[User] With a nod Drat says, " Consider my talents at your service."


[User]
 Imperator Non Inridetur
  Act I: Beati Pacifici
 "ND0/K4"

The dry, rustling sound of moving paper filled the air as the dossier revealed its secrets, Dreschner's expression inscrutable as he scanned the parchment, digesting the information behind his dark eyes. Minutes uncounted passed in relative silence in the confines of the study-office, broken only by the whisk of paper in motion or the faint scratch of a finger tip pulling back a new page.

And then...

"Ah". The Inquisitor's voice was not unlike the paper he handled, quiet and faintly rasping as he methodically placed individual papers about the desk. In short order, piles of varying size began to appear seemingly at random as off-white pages began to obscure the desktop.

"It's a gas giant, tucked away in the bowels of Golgenna. Next closest planet is...Iocanthus," he offered to the six figures gathered in the uncomfortably cramped space before his place of work. Everything was done in sombre colors and crafted of dark woods, from the wall panels and floorboards to the great desk itself. In combination with a very dim set of glowglobes set into the high ceiling, it lent a cavernous feel to the area despite the close-set walls. There were two articles of furniture, and of those two, only one chair.

This was intentional, of course.

"The planet itself is, obviously, uninhabitable. There are three low-orbit platforms from which gas extraction and compression is done, overseen by the Cult Mechanicus. This gas harvest is shipped out to the Imperium at large, for use in industrial processing by Forge and Hive alike. The Cult is by far the largest power group of the stations, and as such, everything moves according to the Omnissiah's will. Tithing is regular as the Black Ships, work hours are managed down to the second, and rationing is done precisely to the needs of each platform. Like clockwork."

A ghost of a smile flickered onto Dreschner's face as he placed the last page carefully in front of him, pausing to steeple his fingers before looking ahead into the group of Acolytes. "All of these things were true once, but no longer. Clockwork needs maintenance and--ave Imperator--I am in a position to order its upkeep and repair. The tithe has fallen short of its traditional goals in months past, which is worrying enough, but the Ecclesiarchy has also informed me of more...disturbing developments."

"While the rationing of food and water is a necessity of life on the stations, there have been riots of increasing intensity in the past few months for a greater share of food by disgruntled dockworkers. This has slowed productivity immensely. The Cult Mechanicus throws the blame of fomenting rebellion and encouraging unrest squarely at the Ministorum's feet; the two administrations scrap for territory in the hearts and minds of the station workers with a zeal to put any Hive ganger to shame, and the Cult sees this recurring unpleasantness as a ploy on part of the Ecclesiarchy to seize control."

He tapped a single page at the far right corner of the desk. "The Adeptus Ministorum claims innocence in this matter, of course, and in turn points fingers at the Cult Mechanicus for a fairly recent development: almost three standard months ago, Adepts stationed at the world began vanishing. Simply gone into thin air, a difficult feat to do in sealed stations with a running census and monitored spaceports. The majority of the disappearances occur on Platform Secundus, incidentally."

"Your task is two-fold. You are to find the reason for these disappearances and end it promptly. Also, for my own edification, I would know if the Ministorum  has  been igniting riots. Man is too weak a creature, divided, to stand against the perils of the galaxy; if they are to blame for our disunity, I should like you to sternly remind them of the principles of the Cult that they teach. I encourage you to accomplish these goals as cleanly and quietly as possible, as there's no reason to cause more bad blood between the two and further disrupt things."

"I know you all to be recent additions to the Inquisition. Many of you I encountered or recruited myself. Listen! You were selected because I fully believe that each of you possess the sparks required to light Man's way in the dark, to protect Him from His own shadow and the cravings of His own heart. However...whether your lights will blaze or gutter remains to be seen. You are expected to handle your tasks with faith, determination, and constant vigilance. Remember: 'There is no innocence, only varying degrees of guilt'. Examine everything, question everyone, appraise every motive, including your own and that of your comrades."

"I have arranged transport to and from ND0/K4. When you complete your objectives, you will return and each make a complete and unflinching report."

"The Emperor Protects. Godspeed."

That was almost two weeks ago, just hours before the six of you were equipped and bundled onto the transport vessel,  Leap of Faith . The travel was uneventful in every way, Warp jumps went as planned and the  Leap  arrived safely at the spaceport of Platform Primus. The captain of the vessel, a nervous, sweaty little man named Jerrid Swoln has just unceremoniously deposited you on the docks, where paid workers and other travelers mill about in a great crowd of noise and motion. Dreschner promised that your arrival, at least, would be totally anonymous, allowing you to pursue the mission objectives as your cell sees fit.

Where now, Acolytes?

[User]
 Melior's first thought, as he steps onto the loading platform and sees the majesty of the Orbital, is a familiar awe.    The Omnissiah's Graces are as impressive as ever.  Nothing compared to the Lathes, of course, but certainly still a worthy testament to His glory.  Protecting his servants from the hard, cold vacumn of space, and turning this gas world beneath us into a tool for the betterment of mankind and the Machine Spirit is ample evidence of His power.

The milling mass of humanity is disconcerting, and his internal Targetting algorithms work like mad to identify any possible targets.  Turning to his fellow acolytes, Melior bows his head, and subvocalizes to the remaining cell members.

  "Perhaps we should find our bearings and move from the central loading platforms?  Milling around at this loading platform without purpose will quickly display our foreign nature."

[User]
 Claus hardly seems to notice the crowds as he crosses the loading platform, smiling a little at the scents of promethium, incense and sweat mingling heavily in the dank air.  The Infernis hiver has taken to wearing heavier clothing when traveling abroad, finding almost every location to be somewhat colder than he prefers.  His Inquisitorial rosette is concealed on the inside of his dark overcoat, next to a Talon autopistol in an underarm holster.

He gives a nod of approval to Melior's suggestion.

  "Tactful, but in a place this small, I'm afraid there's no disguising the fact that we don't belong.  Here, at least, they're accustomed to seeing strangers walking around.  But the further we go from the docks, the more out of place we're going to be."

[User]
 Stepping down the ramp behind his fellow acolytes, Corvus turns his head from side to side, taking in the platform. He says a silent prayer to the Omnisiah, his fingers brushing the dull metal cog he wears around his neck. No matter how many times he beholds the majesty of man's tributes to the Machine-God, he is always humbled.

Stopping dead as he returns his attention to his compatriots, he notices the crowds for the first time, and their position on the docks. He glances about as he listens to Meliorism and Claus.

 "I believe our first course should be to seek out this Machinist Archelm."

[User]
 Leaning on her staff, Piety surveyed the mass of workers. It had been a long time since she'd seen this many people together in one place. It was getting to her a little - that and the few wary glances that she usually drew. The weight of the gun tucked into the folds of her robes didn't help. She'd spent a few days practicing with it, but she still didn't feel too happy about having to carry it.

 "Possibly it would be prudent to pay a visit to the Ecclesiarchy holdings here too? Begin inquiries on the both fronts?"

[User]
 Solomon stops for a moment at the top of the ramp leading down from the ship. He takes a deep breath as his eyes rove around the sea of humanity in the docks. In many ways, the platform reminds him of the hives he grew up in: the same constant buzz of mankind; the same vague sense of claustrophobia; and of course, the smell of several thousand humans all crammed into as tight a space as possible. His nose wrinkles slightly as the atmosphere assaults his nostrils.

His eyes fall on his compatriots gathered at the base of the ramp and he struggles not to roll his eyes as he strolls leisurely down the ramp   Standing around chatting about how to blend in after stepping off a spaceship... incredible.   Despite his nonchalant demeanour his mind is practically buzzing. A childhood spent in a hive combined with an assassin's training guarantee that Solomon is always on edge: though his face remains passive for the most part, his eyes are constantly on the move, searching for any signs of trouble.

He smiles wryly at Claus' comment and claps the man on the shoulder,  "He's quite right I'm afraid: we're going to stick out no matter what we do,"  he nods to Hector and Melior,  "Let us be on our way to see the Most August Prefect Archelm then, and don't forget,"  he grins and wags a finger,  "I am merely an overenthusiastic youth with a passion for the manifold blessing of the Omnissiah."

With that he returns to staring into the crowd, a blank smile fixed upon his face. He reaches up as if to scratch his ear and whispers through his microbead,  "Comm-check. Vathan here. Copy?"

[User]
 Claus gives the noble an opaque look as his shoulder is clapped.  Discreetly acknowledging the comm-check, he turns back to his remaining cell-mates—in particular, to Piety.  His eyes rest on a fold in the psyker's robes.

  "We'll need to find you a better weapon,"   he decides.

[User] Jastilus walks down the ramp after the others, head held high as he tries to take in everything at once. So absorbed is he in watching the docks that he nearly runs into Solomon. Smiling in embarrassment, he taps his microbead in acknowledgment as he lowers the hood of his plain grey robes.   "I will go to pay respects to the Eccleschiary. Such is only proper for a wandering missionary and his entourage."