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 "BRAID"
 ...You hear again as it echoes and trails away... Your vision is blurry.. you are laying on something... hard... like stone... you remember stone, don't you? Is that voices you hear? It sounds like voices... people talking.... chatting?  What is this?
 LEMME SEE THOSE INT DEFENSE ROOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLS!!!!!!


[User]
 Two words opened the chat box:

 Computer trouble?

[User] What are you talking about?

[User]
 Ah. Is that why we're using Skype? I suppose you wouldn't have been able to edit it if we were using Google...

Was this too aggressive a line? Otoha frowned, then shook her head. It was too late to walk it back now anyway.

 011000001 01110011 00100000 01001001
 I might have missed a digit. You  were  rather quick after all.

[User] Oh, that. Yes, I'm a programmer, and I had some binary running in the background. Must've been some crossed wires, metaphorically speaking.

[User]
 You 'metaphorically' follow you weren't programming in the middle of a sentence, wrote a string of numbers, then finished your conversation without realising what you did the first time.
 Congratulations, Aelita.
 You've managed to crack my list of top ten outrageous lies.

[User] Well, what do you think happened?

[User]
 Honestly, she had no idea. She stared at the computer screen, biting a thumb. She  had  gone to aggressive too quickly; she didn't have nearly enough material to answer that question. Instead she followed up with something else:

 Question. What's your relationship to the staff at our school?
 You have some of the highest grades in our year, probably second only to the Rep. But no one I interviewed was able to say they had ever met you. So your attendance record must be horrible. But you clearly haven't been expelled yet. So either there are mitigating circumstances, you have an 'in' with someone in authority, or both.

[User] I've got a medical condition.


[User]
 You look around the ramshackle building, surreptitiously trying to inspect the others. A few had their notes out and were glancing back and forth nervously, possibly regretting coming at all. Vaskel had a knack for getting himself and everyone else in a 100 yard radius into trouble. For a few minutes no one speaks, as if just saying his name would have the city guard come crashing in. Finally, a strange looking warforged walks to the front of the room and sits on a dilapidated table, the aging legs creaking heavily under her? weight. Made in a female shape, most of her plating was gone completely and one of her arms ended in a nasty looking clawed branch.

When she speaks, her voice is calming and mature. "We're all her for what I suspect to be the same reason. I for one received a note from Vaskel, asking me to meet in this spot. He helped me a great deal, when I was... confused." At this the warforged glanced down, as if remembering something sad. "If any here are after the bounty I won't hold it against you, but no torture in the world is enough to make me betray him. With that out of the way, we need to find him before anyone else does. Does anyone have an idea on how to do that?"

[User] Not quite sure...   Red says, currently in the form of an Orcish woman.   He always had a knack of being there when needed.

[User]
 Zumal nods,  "I could try the diviner's arts, though I imagine were it that easy he'd be found already.  Still, we may find a way to go provided we ask the right question."

 Spoiler: OOC
Could we get a situational bonus to the ritual with a item the target once held?  It's a common trope, but I don't want to presume.

On a side note, I'm thinking he probably picked up a cart to come here so he could pose as a merchant.  Just laying that down in advance as I don't have that on the equipment list yet but it's likely what he would have picked up in a nearby city.

Edit: Also, is there a way to get an aid another type bonus on the divination ritual if it comes down to it.  I think I've got a solid chance at finding a lead, but it's closer to 50/50 than I'd like.

[User]
 Originally Posted by Shimeran
 Zumal nods,  "I could try the diviner's arts, though I imagine were it that easy he'd be found already.  Still, we may find a way to go provided we ask the right question."

 Spoiler: OOC
Could we get a situational bonus to the ritual with a item the target once held?  It's a common trope, but I don't want to presume.

On a side note, I'm thinking he probably picked up a cart to come here so he could pose as a merchant.  Just laying that down in advance as I don't have that on the equipment list yet but it's likely what he would have picked up in a nearby city.

Edit: Also, is there a way to get an aid another type bonus on the divination ritual if it comes down to it.  I think I've got a solid chance at finding a lead, but it's closer to 50/50 than I'd like.

  We've only just arrived, friend. Let's wait at least a few minutes before we go tracking him down.

[User]
 Originally Posted by Shimeran
 Zumal nods,  "I could try the diviner's arts, though I imagine were it that easy he'd be found already.  Still, we may find a way to go provided we ask the right question."

 Spoiler: OOC
Could we get a situational bonus to the ritual with a item the target once held?  It's a common trope, but I don't want to presume.

On a side note, I'm thinking he probably picked up a cart to come here so he could pose as a merchant.  Just laying that down in advance as I don't have that on the equipment list yet but it's likely what he would have picked up in a nearby city.

Edit: Also, is there a way to get an aid another type bonus on the divination ritual if it comes down to it.  I think I've got a solid chance at finding a lead, but it's closer to 50/50 than I'd like.

 Spoiler: Divination

Very important items can help, but it has to be something deeply personal.

Cart's fine.

You can aid another on any spell check so long as both participants know the spell.

[User]
 Celelindra arrived at the orphanage with Mialee in tow. She moves to beside the table too and hurriedly the maid cleans one of the chairs of dust, then Celelindra seats

 "I will stand with the warforged on this matter here. Vaskel helped me."


[User] So, um, Kaya. Can I talk with you?   Aelita sends in a private message.

[User] "Alright, what's up?  Is something wrong?"

[User]
 I... Well, nothing, actually. Sorry. For bothering you-I'll just be going...

 Spoiler: OOC
Conflict or Skill check: Get Aelita to open up.

DC 5, 2 VP.

Oh-and you can roll it. Since there's only the one of ye.

[User]
 "It's clear that something's wrong.  We're supposed to be teammates for this project, remember?  What good is a teammate if you don't open up for them to help you?

Seriously, if something's wrong I do want to help.  I've dealt with a lot, I might have an idea of how to deal with whatever it is.

 Spoiler: OoC
Conflict, with Hiss! again, for a +3.

[User]
 Spoiler: OOC
 (1d6+3)[ 5 ]

Rolling dem bones. Needing a 2+.

  I can trust you, right? To keep a secret?

Because I'm...

Different.

[User]
 "Of course you can trust me.  I promise.

Besides, being different isn't all that bad.  Just look at me, I'm not even  human .  So, what's wrong with being different?"

[User] Yeah, but you're... There.

[User] "So are you, are you not?  You're still typing, you're still talking."

[User] Kaya, why do you think I'm never around at school?

[User] "I assume you're not  able  to go to school normally.  Which, when combined with your previous statement, probably means that you're not quite normal in a similar way to me, and  that  fact prevents you from interacting with "regular" people in person.  Was any of that correct?"

[User] Yeah. Correct so far.

[User]
 "So if that's all correct, that implies one of two things.  One, your physical body is recognizably inhuman enough that it would cause a lot of stress to a "normal" person who sees it.  That could be a lot of things, but nothing I can think of at the moment.  Two, you don't  have  a physical body, making you something different.  Could be a spirit, could be an AI.  With your previous statement, I'd say that's the more likely option.  Given that the only interaction anyone has reason to believe you've done with other people is by computer, like this, that heavily implies an AI.

So, how am I?  Hot or cold?"

[User]
 ...   Aelita types.

Then, a voice comes on your speakers.   Pretty hot.

[User]
 AI, then?  Alright, that's certainly interesting.  But I'm still not seeing what's wrong with that.  Sure, you're different.  That's not a bad thing.  I don't care  what  you are - human, cat-thing, AI, whatever - I care about  who  you are.  That's all that matters to everybody that's important.  If someone gets too hung up on what you are too see you for who you are, they just aren't that important.  After all, it's  you  that decides who's important to you.  Not them.

Besides, it's not like there's something wrong with not being human.  After all, the more interesting you are.  And not in a bad way.  You have a different viewpoint, which isn't something to be unhappy about.  Your "body", so to speak, works a bit differently.  There's nothing wrong with that.  Your differences shouldn't be worn with shame, but with  pride .  Take pride in what you are, what you can do.  That's what makes you unique, what makes you special.  It's a  good  thing.

But just remember: you don't have to be defined by what you  can  do, but by what you  choose  to do.  And what you choose to do, is what makes you  you .   That  is what's most important."

[User]
 Thank you. That... That means a lot to me.

Don't, um... Don't tell anyone else, okay?

[User] "Alright.  I swear that I won't tell anyone else."

[User] Kaya! What do I do?

[User] "Working on it now.  And if this doesn't work, I should be able to come up with something else."

[User] Okay, thank you. Thank you so much.

[User] Kaya, I kinda glitched up there. I posted in binary instead of English. I don't know why-am I okay?

[User] "It's nothing wrong, don't worry.  Just about everyone has a tendency to accidentally revert to a more familiar language when trying to speak in a different one.  You likely just did the same thing."

[User]
 Originally Posted by Sicarius Victis
  "It's nothing wrong, don't worry.  Just about everyone has a tendency to accidentally revert to a more familiar language when trying to speak in a different one.  You likely just did the same thing."

  But I don't make mistakes like that! I'm worried. For my health, I guess. And that doesn't make sense.

[User]
 "You may not have a physical body, but you're still sentient.  And if you're sentient, you have at least  some  sort of instinct.  Even if it hadn't noticed it before, things are likely a lot different for you now than they'd been any other time.  You're dealing with other people on a rather personal level, which doesn't seem to be a thing you've done very often.  It makes sense that you'd revert to whatever happens instinctively for you, as you're still just getting used to this.  So I don't think there's anything for you to worry about here, as it should get better as you get more used to us.

And if it doesn't, you can blame me afterwards for pretending to know what I'm talking about.😛

But seriously, try not to worry about it.  If it does get worse, I'll be right there to help you, so still shouldn't be too bad.  If it gets better, the there was never anything to worry about.  And either way, all worrying will do is make you unhappy when you don't need to be.  Take it from me, that makes things really difficult after a while."

[User]
 "Hey, Aelita, I wanted to ask you something.  I hope you don't mind, I'm just curious.

In your opinion, what does the colour "purple" smell like?"

[User]
 I wasn't aware purple had a smell.

But as a side note... I mean, the way they're talking about AIs... Should I tell them all?

[User]
 "Not yet, I'd suggest.  At least, not until you've gotten to know them a bit better.  Christina seems fine, but Otoha seems like her relationship with you would constantly veer between "friend" and "test subject", and that's really not nice to deal with.

And I'm just not sure about Alicia.  Maybe's she  is  just a naturally cheerful person, but just about everybody I know who acts like her just does it to hide their real intentions.

And I don't know if purple has a smell either, honestly.  But if it did, what do you believe it would have a similar scent to?  It's fine if you don't have an answer for that question, I'm just looking for your opinion on the question as a whole.  It's part of a project I'm working on, which I'll try to explain soon.

[User] I guess grape? That's usually associated with purple.

[User]
 "Alright, that works.

Basically, I'm woroking on what I mentioned in the group chat: a way to prove an AI's sentience - including your own - to a non-AI, and that question was a surprisingly important part of it."


[User]
 Book 1: Fires of Creation

The sounds of the many foundries around the center of the city were a comfort to those who called Torch home. Seeker knew that he would hear them any minute, and knew that he would soon be met with the sight of a hill bathed in a purple glow.

Torch was named for the purple beam of light that shot from the mountains to the heavens. No one had an explanation for it, but no one complained that the flames smelted that which regular flames could not: skymetal.

If such a strange thing would appear on Golarian, it would happen in Numeria. Ancient, abandoned technology and fluids unknown to the people of Golarian littered Numeria, leaving traces of evidence of some distant, possibly dead civilization.

None of this was what brought Seeker to Torch. His comrade, Khonnir Baine, lived here and owned a foundry. Khonnir had sent him out to retrieve crafting supplies from a colleague near Scrapwall, and Seeker returned to deliver them. Khonnir often trusted Seeker with such requests, knowing that Seeker would keep his business private.

As Seeker drew closer to the town of Torch, something occurred to him that made him pick up his pace.

There was a hill, and a city shaped like Torch, but there was no purple light. Torch’s prized landmark was extinguished for the first time since it had erupted.

[User]
 Seeker wheeled his broken bike to the foundry where Khonnir resided. He was sure to find answers there. A beloved member of the town council, Khonnir was usually informed about current events in the city.

The tavern that Khonnir and Val ran was often packed with people. Even in the daytime, there should have been a few braggarts describing their strength when they drank from the oily pools on the hill, or whispering rumors about spies from the Technic League.

Instead, the windows were darkened, and no smoke rose from its chimney.  What has happened?  Seeker wondered.

As Seeker pushed his bike between the buildings to Khonnir's house, he heard a high pitched scream.

[User]
 [ Note:  We are trying out a format where combat happens on roll20, and then one of us does a write-up afterwards to post. For ease of tracking, not each and every little motion or action will be narrated; we'll save that for non-combat situations. This is the first attempt at "fictionalizing" what happened in roll20, including my characters thoughts and the like.]

Seeker sprinted past Khonnir's foundry, letting the busted motorcycle fall near the door as he continued toward the house proper. A second scream and some banging coming from Khonnir's office spurred him through the front door, followed by a quick turn toward the office. He scanned the room, and some part of his brain reassured him that Val had ducked under one of the desks for cover, but his focus immediately sought the threat. It wasn't hard to find--one tended to notice a shambling robot attempting to dismantle the brick wall that separated it from freedom.

Some part of Seeker felt bad for the ancient thing. He judged by its spider-like legs, tool-wielding hands, and simplistic visual apparatus that this was likely a maintenance robot, ironically far past due on its own maintenance.
 Maybe it will stop if I can convince it that the house needs no repairs...  It sounded idealistic, even in his own head--the robot was likely too far gone at this point. Still, he reached a hand out toward the robot and tried to focus his intent, to convey the thought that the current environment was the new default. The old machine did not even look up from its "work", however, as Seeker's mental signal went unheeded.

He sighed and drew his greatsword before stepping forward. With some painful-sounding clicks, the robot finally took note of the new arrival, and fixed its single, red receptor on him before scuttling in his direction. A single swipe with his weapon took the pitiful construct down, and Seeker remembered the time one of his wasteland hunter mentors had to put down his faithful dog due to age. Sometimes, it was just their time, even if they didn't realize it. He tried not to think too hard about that one as his own joints creaked while he sheathed his sword.

"Val, are you alright? What happened?"

[User]
 Val ran to Seeker and embraced him in a hug. "I'm all right."

They exchanged a frantic look, as if they both knew all was not well.

"Khonnir is missing!" she exclaimed, tears forming in her eyes. "The fire on top of the mountain went out, and then we started sending in search teams. Next thing you know, Khonnir came out with this old construct and left it here to study." She paused and examined the drone, catching her breath. "I thought it was dead."

"Anyway, Khonnir went back in a couple days ago, but we've heard nothing since!"

Val pulled a folded flier out of a pouch. "It's a good thing you've come back. We can only hope he's still alive. You should speak with the Council before you go in. You see this flier?"

Dolga Freddert, a member of the Torch Council, had offered a reward of 4,000gp to anyone who could bring Khonnir back. "Dolga will have more information. She would be the one to know how we can get back Khonnir."


[User]
 You've been able to see Eisenby in the distance for a week now... just a speck at first, but growing by the hour. The unremitting sun highlights the scarred flank of Mt. Eisen, painted rust red like an open wound. Gray plumes of smoke mark the town itself, rising from blast furnaces and ironworks, and beyond it you can occasionally spy the black breath of a steamship or an azure glint of the sea. The mingling clouds of smoke are a good sign, in this case. A sign of life and industry, a sign you're not too late.

As you draw in close, however, signs turn to the worse. The sun is sinking as you reach the furthest outskirts of the town, but even in the fading light you can see claw marks scattered here and there amongst the storage shacks and shanty houses. The streets themselves are deathly quiet; the doors and windows shut and barred.

And then, startlingly close by, you hear a mournful, keening howl, not properly canine in its... grief. Even without your Ranger training, it wouldn't be difficult to to place that unnatural sound...

Well, at least it shouldn't be particularly difficult to locate Eisenby's Grimm problem?

 Spoiler
Weeeeeell... this isn't  quite  a cold open. I'll give you a chance to introduce your characters and maybe take a moment to prepare for the enemy before I spring them on you. But you certainly know they're coming!

[User]
 Athrusa, the leader of Team AMOUR five years ago.  A Fox Faunus whose skill at swordsmanship was, supposedly, second to none at the time -- stories of how her blade never knew to swing twice against the same opponent have no doubt become hyperbole and embellished over the years, but nonetheless must have some kernel of truth.  A Fox Faunus whose ability to lead was never questioned -- she worked with even the most frantic and idiosyncratic of people and had the personal charisma to string a band of then-misfits together into a fighting team capable enough to hold what felt like an inevitable end back from Menagerie.

That was then.  Legends, as they say, are mere words, dots on a parchment only few care to read.

The reality is now.  Athrusa lets out a somewhat tired sigh as she crests the hill, dressed in her white robes and dark fighting garments beneath, her ashen-blonde hair flowing and long and her ears perked up and alert.  Her body's certainly faced atrophy over the years in her inactivity, and the doctors have still warned her that her spine would never completely heal -- it would drastically limit her mobility, her flexibility, and her strength.  It would make certain maneuvers next to impossible to perform.

It didn't matter.

" Grimms, " Athrusa warns as she peers down towards the town, noticing the claw marks.  " Bramble, how many can you hear? "

[User]
 Spoiler: For the benefit of those with Super-Hearing
When she focuses, Bramble can hear past the moaning howls... she can hear their growling, the padding of their feet, the scrape of their claws...

Perhaps a dozen total? Down the side streets, getting closer. It sounds as if you may be surrounded in a moment.

[User]
 The youngest member of their little party nods, taking a knee and a deep breath. Bramble tries desperately to focus: forget Eisenby, forget the Grimm. this is it, her chance to impress two veteran rangers. To fight alongside them as an equal partner and teammate.   Don't screw this up, Brambs, you screw up!   Trying to use her Semblence practically like this is still new to the young Ranger, but they're not in battle now, so she can focus on it. Focus on looking without her eyes

 Clack, thwum, clack. Bone over stone, then dirt, then stone as great clawed beasts pace past creaking wood. A gentle tinkling crash as a shard of glass falls and shatters, followed by a muffled snort and the pad of movement across bare ground. Slow movement, from the left, from the right, starting to speed up as claws drag furrows against the earth.

Bramble opens her eyes wide, her tail twitching back and forth, making her cloak swoosh and daggers jangle. It's obvious from a glance at the recruit's face that she's scared, but she tries not to show it, smiling and snorting as she reaches for a blade-hilt,  "They're coming to us. They're in the alleyways, both sides. Perhaps a dozen Beowulves, maybe an Ursa. I guess the Grimm don't like Faunus on 'their land' any more than humans do, huh?"

[User]
 Of all the things Alice had thought she would do in her career, walking along with one of the legends of the Wild Hunt was decidedly not among them. Especially not given that the legend looks gaunt and tired, like she needs about a weeks worth of sleep and a lot of big meals.

Sighing, Alice picks at the hem of her shorts as they trudge up the hill. Even if they hadn't had a legend tagging along, she expects that this will be a milk run. In remote areas like this, a wolf spotted in the fields can turn into the rumour of a pack of Beowulves quickly from only having your neighbours to talk to. Investigate the area, help the villagers set up a defensive perimeter if they don't have one already, and then back to headquarters inside a week.

Or at least, that was what Alice thought before they heard the unnatural howling.  "If it's just Beowulves, we can probably take them,"  she says, pulling shells from her bandolier and dropping them into  the slots in her weapon.  "But it might be better if we tried to make a break for a square, or something like that, to get away from all the cross streets. I don't want to get surrounded."

[User]
 Athrusa nodded with a soft smile at Bramble, saying, " Good work.  Your senses have been getting keener lately -- keep it up. "  She then turns to Alice and said, " I agree.  Beowulves enjoy applying pack tactics and flanking -- we'll charge through with a running battle, picking them off as we move to the village square. "

She placed her hand on the hilt of the Mumyo-no-Rakuen, drawing the obscenely-sized katana.  It... was a bit curious, how she could lift it without effort, even in her emaciated state -- there must be something to the weapon that allowed her to do so, the way her touch barely rested against the weapon's handle.  " Alice, would you like to start us off? "  Though the girl looked frail, she'd heard tales of her immense strength, and being able to power through any obstacles in their way was key to this dash-and-divide strategy.

[User] "Oh. Ah, alright."  Alice clacks her gauntlets together, and starts bouncing from foot to foot. The dark-skinned woman looks noticeably more nervous than she did a few moments ago, but keeps enough confidence to say,  "Okay, stack up behind me, but keep moving. On my mark, we make a run for it. Ready?"

[User] Athrusa nodded and looked at Bramble, stooping to a readied position, the katana... more or less floating behind her.  " Ready! "

[User]
 A moment before Bramble can confirm her readiness, a moment before Alice can take off running, a single Beowulf slinks out into the road ahead of the team. It seems smaller than typical Beowulves, jackal-like, with a lean and hungry look. A feral growl rumbles in its throat.

Red eyes gleam from the twilit shadows...

 Spoiler
There  are  twelve Beowulves. These are pretty weak specimens of the species... Alice and Athrusa can roll at d20, Bramble at d12. You can engage up to four as a small group, or the whole dozen as a large group. Since there shouldn't be any real GM-driven surprises in how Beowulves fight (well, at least not at this point...), why don't you guys go ahead and roll in the OOC for your Exchanges, against however many of the them you'd like to handle at once, and then if you'd like you can take full narrative control over the fight sequence that gets you to the rolled result. Have fun with it. 🙂

[User]
 Athrusa's eyes gleam with a kind of crimson flair as the Beowulf lunges out at them; she takes the initiative to cover any flank she intuitively feels uncovered, the Mumyo raging out as she thrusts her arm out.  The weapon glides in parallel and skewers onto the Grimm, before the shining steel blade bursts out into a large crimson hand, its fingers laced with shards of her blade.  " Bad move. "

The claw clenches down, and her Semblance shimmers into place as she feels the energy of the Grimm distorting and skewing into hers.  "  Consume Claw...  "

She grimaces as she feels her muscle strain, though, and nearly drops the weapon as it sags and drops the limp body of their enemy.  " Don't let up!  Bramble, cover us! "

[User] "On it!"  Bramble darts forward and right as the wolf-creatures emerge from the shadows, throwing her first knife towards one of them that was closing in on Athrusa's side. The creature snarls, leaping out of the shadows straight at the unwary young ranger with her knife protruding limply from its side. Brambs jumps to the side with an eep, swirling her cloak around the beowulf's mask and pushing it sideways just enough to retrieve her blade before darting away. She hasn't notched a kill but she's keeping one of the Grimm distracted at least?

[User]
 When the Beowulf reveals itself, Alice yells  "Mark!"  almost on instinct, and charges it. She was hoping to catch the Grimm off guard and land a solid knee strike to start the fight, and by the time she's closed half the distance without it moving, she's fairly confident that she will.

And then she remembers that Bramble just said there were a dozen of them. A low growl from one of the side streets distracts her from her intended target, and she whips around just in time to see a second Grimm come leaping out at her. Combat-honed reflexes are enough to make sure the Beowulf doesn't latch onto anywhere vital, but it still takes her down and rake its claws across her stomach before she can muscle it off.

[User] Athrusa grimaces and hurries after Alice, when she sees the Beowulf knock her prone -- she's not nearly as fast as she'd like to, and her calf muscles and hamstrings are screaming at her as acid build-up takes over.  " Back off! " she exclaims, sending an explosive thrust that strikes the Grimm at its mask and sends it flying.  With her free hand, she reaches down to pull the fallen Faunus up by her hand.  " Come on, Alice!  You've got this! "


[User]
 For the past several days, you have been traveling a road that winds lazily across the rolling grasslands of the Greenfields. Sundown is approaching when you top a rise and see the town of Greenest just a few short miles away. But instead of a pleasant, welcoming town you expected, you see columns of black smoke rising from burning buildings, running figures that are little more than dots at this distance, and a dark, winged shape wheeling low over the keep that rises above the center of the town. Greenest is being attacked by a dragon!

 OoC Thread

[User]
 The dwarven warrior approaches Greenest and sees the destruction ahead   "Well that isn't something you see every day"   he mutters to himself as he picks up speed to see if he can get there in time to help! Not that he is sure what he can do about a Dragon.

 Darrow is not bad looking for a dwarf (Charisma 14) he has traditionally ruddy skin, a long red beard fastened into twin braids, and grey eyes. He's armed with a battle axe and shield (currently over his back) and two hand axes at his waist. He is clad in full chain armor.

[User]
 Weary from her travels, the little Gnome approaches the city, looking forward to a warm fire and a soft bed.

  A little food wouldn't hurt either...    She thought to herself, as she continued down the road.

She hefted her pack higher into her shoulder, as she crested the last ridge, and stopped in her tracks at what she saw.

 "A dragon..."

Her jaw drops, but her eyes shine with delight.  A dragon was a rare sight, but also a chance to do a lot of good.  She couldn't wait to get a better look, while helping as many people as she could.

 "Might not survive, but I'm going to have so much fun!"

She cracks her knuckles, and picks up the pace, running as fast as her little legs can carry her towards Greenest.

[User] Ranna had been in Greenest for scarcely a night when she sees something giant swoop overhead. Shining scales, giant batlike wings... a dragon. And that is quite enough. She's out, bolting towards the edge of town as fast as she can. The smell of smoke fills her lungs, and the screaming assails her ears. She wants to curl into a ball and hide, but she keeps running.

[User]
 Hiding near the road, Grugar watches the roaring flames. The sensible thing to do would be to leave. There is nothing a single half-orc could do to help these people. And yet, all the apocalyptic visions he had, the sudden feeling that he should travel to Greenest, and now this. It can't be a coincidence. It must all be connected somehow. This is where he should be.

Picking up a small wooden wand, the half-orc does a small incantation. An unnecessary precaution, he hopes. He stows the wand back inside his clothes, picks up his staff and, against his better judgment, creeps towards the city.


[User]
 Like so many good tales, this one begins in The Cage - Sigil, the City of Doors - in an ordinary day...

The five of you go about the Great Bazaar, when suddenly a sensation rises in the back of each of your brain-boxes, like a cross between a tickle and an interrupted sneeze.
This feeling quickly grows in intensity, becoming a painful, relentless squeeze on your brain. Unconsciousness calls to you like a sweet song of a secret haven, but you resist.
You take an involuntary step forward and discover that the pain diminishes ever so slightly as you move in that direction.

 Spoiler: An overview of Sigil

A few blocks off the Bazaar, the path leads to an old two-story building marked with a sign that simply reads Jysson. As you approach it, you notice four other shady characters making their way toward the same building.

[User]
 "Ugh..."  Orvin, the gnome forge cleric says. Although he's not sure if he said it aloud or just in his head.

He takes a step in the leading direction, not really paying attention to where he's going, but just hoping the pain will subside.

[User]
 Foster inspects his foliage as he comes to his senses and approaches the sign. His frame is tall and wide-his face a stone mask etched along wooden structure, and his silhouette would be block and odd if not for the many vines wrapped around his back and right shoulder. He is covered almost head to toe in moss, with mushrooms thriving along his upper back and a wreath of flowers decorating his head. He's pleased to find most of his personal garden is intact and presses onward.

There is little apprehension in his stride. A life of curiosity, metaphor, torment and illusion at the hands of the Fae have left him quite without a sense of surprise, and not much of a sense of danger. He pays the shady characters little mind-even the most murderous of sorts tended to wanted to give him a look over before killing him, which was great for avoiding ambushes. He turns to the gnome.  "Issues with a headache, Godsmen? I have some stems you could chew that would numb up your noggin, though it makes talking a bit difficult. Only four coppers."

[User]
 "Ugh. Yeah. It's seems to have nearly cleared up. Thanks, um.."  Orvin looks up to see who, exactly, he's talking to.  "Woah. You're quite the basher, ain't ya?

Orvin, a gnome of the Believers of the Source, aka the Godsmen (he wears his faction symbol on a clasp that holds his brown cloak together), stands just over three feet tall. He has medium-to-long length shaggy brown hair and a trimmed beard. Beneath the cloak is a hammer which could easily double as a tool of the trade or a weapon.

 "You're quite the work of art, aren't you? A genuine mix of plant and machine. Quite impressive! I'm saying 'quite' too much.

Anyways, my name is Orvin. What's yours?

[User]
 Pain.

Why pain?

Head pain.

Building removes pain.

No!  Others are at building.

Shadows.

Still pain, but less pain.

Hide.

Mission must not fail.

Where is great beast?

In building?

Building too small.

Must wait.

How long?

Patience.

((O.o.C.: Do I need to make a stealth check?))

[User]
 Kalinas was curiously resistant to the pain in her head.  A cynic could say that its because she hardly paid any attention to her brain to begin with.  A true Cipher would claim the pain was just a symptom of dissonant, self-defeating thought.  Kalinas was more of the latter than the former, but in any event, she was one of the closest 'shady figures' approaching the building.

Really, she wore the scarf and sand-brown clothes out of habit, not out of any particular decision.  She wasn't aware of how 'shady' she looked to others, an amber humanoid with claws and fangs that shrunk every day, a mane that she had raggedly cut shortish on a whim.

 "Jysson, eh?  Kind of an odd name for a building, but I like the tall, strong, silent type!"   With a shout over her shoulder and nary a concern for an ambush, she started to open the door.  "Well, you boys coming with?"

[User] Quite so!  Orvin calls back as he hustles towards the building.

[User]
 The front (and only) door is unlocked.
Once you enter the building, the pain stops. Looking about, you can determine that the place is obviously some sort of long-abandoned clerk's office. Dust covers the desks and tables, which are strewn with papers, ledgers, and notebooks. All the documents are filled with incomprehensible columns of numbers.

Any examination of the room, its contents, or each other is cut short by the sudden sound of a meek voice.

 "Oh dear,"  it states,  "I had no idea that would be so...painful for you. Please accept my apology."

You can determine that the voice comes from the back of the room, near a book-covered table and a rickety wooden staircase that leads upstairs. No speaker is evident, but after a moment a small gray cat jumps onto the table from the shadows under the stair and looks at you.

[User] "Was that you, cat?  Orvin asks.

[User]
 Safe?

Unknown.

Enter?

Yes.  Enter.

Must be quiet.

Must hide.

Voice?  Where?  Cat?

No. Cat is prey.

Hunger.

((O.o.C.:  (1d20+5)[ 7 ]  Stealth and Bow at the ready.))

[User]
 The cat talks back in a surprisingly human voice,   "I didn't say anything."

On the far table, one of the books - a particularly large, leather-and-metal-bound specimen - flips open, revealing a humanlike face in the gutter between the pages, which otherwise seem to be blank.  "I really am sorry,"  it says in the meek voice you heard before.

It continues:
 "I needed to call for help, so I reached out and tried to curb some 'pertish folks off the street. It's been so long since I've done that, I guess I grabbed too hard. Perhaps some sparkle would make it up to you? After you've heard me out, I'll see to that, I promise.

You see, we need a few kind pivers who will take myself and my associate here to the gate-town of Automata. Have you heard of Automata, gate-town to Mechanus? It's still there, isn't it?"

Canny bashers notice first off that the book speaks with very old mannerisms - it uses a long-outdated version of the cant. Second, since no one else appears in the room, you realize that the book's associate is the cat.

 Spoiler: About Automata
Chaotic planars have a saying: "Nobody with half a brain or a bit of free will goes to Automata on purpose." - While this is an opinionated exaggeration, there's some truth in that. Automata is the gate-town on the Outlands that leads to the plane of Mechanus, home of the modrons and the seat of ultimate Law. Consequently, Automata's an extraordinary orderly burg.
The local government, the Council of Order, rules over the town with a rather tight fist. A mire of bureaucracy wraps its tendrils around everything and everyone there, and that bureaucracy is mostly controlled by members of the Fraternity of Order. The town guard enforces the stringent laws that control not only commerce but movement, dress, and even personal interaction (that is, they tell a basher what he can and can't say, and who he can say it to).

[User]
 City of Order.

No. Beast would not go there.

Have no reason to oblige.

Leaving now.

" SH**! "

Floor broken.  Needs repair.

[User] Din sen bow gently, in respect for the magical...thung, and then step forward "excuse me for the rudness of the question but...what the hell?! Who are you and what do you want? Why do need us? I have more important things to do then helping a book! And then he shake his head "again, sorry for my  lack of manners, butni was never good at talking and i have an important mission." He close his mouth to a thin line, and his hand is moving around his swords and daggers as he waits for the book's answer.

[User]
 Kalinas tilted her head to the side.

'Automata, Automata, treat it like a black banana.'

Ah, that's where she had heard the name before!  Not a good place to go, according to some of the other ciphers she had met.  Too much thinking and rules.  Too little action.  This was not a good job to accept, not at all.

 "Sure, I'll do it!"

[User]
 No one notice.

Chance to flee.

Going back out; painless.

Now, where is beast.

[User]
 The gray cat identifies itself as Ydemi Jysson and tells you that the book is, well, The Book.
Without answering any of your questions, Jysson begins telling you his tale.

 For ages, it seemed, he was a petitioner on the Beastlands and quite happy to be there. One day, last month, the ruler of his kind (the Cat Lord) came to him and asked him to deliver a message to someone in Sigil. Loath though he was to leave the Beastlands, he obeyed his mistress. He completed his task and headed back to the Beastlands gate, but as he walked down this particular street, something seemed to beckon him inside this building.
Here, he encountered The Book, which explained to him that Jysson (in his mortal lifetime) had been a clerk who owned this tiny firm and lived in the apartment overhead.

In order to improve his business, the clerk had purchased a magical book to help him with his work. The terms of the purchase involved a series of payments over a number of years - terms that he defaulted upon when he died. Though not particularly lawful, the petitioner Jysson's benevolent demeanor compelled him to right this wrong - but there was no way a cat could carry a large tome like The Book all the way to Automata, where he'd bought it.
Jysson ordered the tome to help him find aid, and The Book did so by calling you.

Jysson bought The Book from a wizard named Heiron, who specialized in creating sentient, powerful magical items. Unfortunately, Jysson doesn't remember where the wizard lives. In fact, he doesn't actually remember anything about his former life and only knows what The Book tells him, but such recollections always strike a certain chord within him.

The Book, of course, does remember. The Book also knows where Jysson kept his hidden jink, and promises it all to you if they take it back to Heiron.

If you want, you can also have this building.

[User] "That is a fascinating story! You've moved your spirit up the ladder and rung! Well done, Jysson, my boy! Erm, I mean, cat. And now you're on a quest to right a past wrong! Yes, I will help; this challenge will improve you! It will improve us all!"

[User] "Well...if what you want is to retrive your honor...my sword will be at ypur side for.this task." Din sen smile and then look at the cat "when should we get to auto..whatever?"


[User]
 This is a Play-By-Post for a home game.

After about another 10 minutes of walking, Jora stops the group and moves ahead about 10 feet.  "There they are."  she says. You can all hear the leather grip of her mace straining in her grip.

[User] (What is this?)

[User] (just a new way we can do the game that is going to be a lot easier for me to manage.)

[User] I(Feanor) move up level with Jora and study the area. (What all do I/we see?)


[User]
 It is the first year of a new age. Each of you has only 80% of the food you need to feed your population. You have no technology, no magic, and few tools.

What will you do?

[User]
 Solkar shall teach his follows farming.  Half the working population will be assigned to the fields, while the other half hunts the beasts of the land.

The farmers shall lay their seed near the river Berglen, and the edge of the wood.  After the initial planting, they will begin building simple huts, and gathering of wood in preparation of the cold time which Solkar has forseen.

The hunters shall throw sharpened sticks at their prey until the secrets of archery are revealed.  They hunt to the west of the farmers, but are forbidden from crossing the river haglen, or entering the swamp.

The hunters shall return with food, and be provided with more sharp sticks by the farmers.

Edit:

 Spoiler: OOC

Since this is supposed to last the year, I will expand the description a bit more.

[User]
 From the ruins of the once-great kingdom of Ulthanar emerged the few survivors who managed to endure the calamity that befell them. So much has been lost, one could be forgiven for giving up. Their king is dead, along with most of the nobility. Their cities are now rubbles, their magical libraries have sunk below the sea. Yet hope remains. The youngest and last survivor of the royal line, princess Aethel, began to organize the survivors, keeping the few souls left from drifting apart.

The immediate concern of the people of Ulthanar is food. While agriculture will be a desirable long-term solution, the coming winter is the most pressing issue, with reserves already low. While the tools at their disposal are somewhat lacking, the elves assembled their makeshift ressources to provide hunters and fishermen the strict necessary. Hopefully, their natural dexterity and proverbial ingenuity will see them up to the task.

Building refuges is another urgent matter. The progress might be slow on this front - elves aren't the most hardy laborers - but clearing part of the near forests will provide enough wood to build rudimentary houses, with the added bonus of freeing lands for agricultural expansion. Once this double crisis is solved, more long term plans might be brought to the fore.

[User]
 The Ascended has seen the terrors befallen his people, and has lead them to a defensive position. Naming their new home the Vale of Omens, they spread out between the sea and the mountain range of the Kibaragz Mountains.
After focusing on finding a suitable location for his Wanderers, he then turned to overseeing their needs. Food was scarce, they had no diplomatic allies, no technology and no goals. The Wanderers needed to become a nation, but in order to do so, they needed to overcome their lack of food and shelter first.
The Wanderers were divided into three four groups. The fishers, hunters and gatherers, gathering food, the haulers, moving goods, the builders, building shelter, and the woodsmen, gathering wood. Their primary focus was on the forest of the Vale, clearing out a corner of the woods near the coast to build their first real camp.
Once the immediate concern of food shortage is over, the Ascended starts guiding select Wanderers to new positions as wisemen, making them focus on reflection rather than praticality. Their primary concerns are the future; technology, diplomacy, rules of law etc.

[User] Faced with an imminent resource shortage, Urk the Wud spirit commanded his tribe expand their hunting grounds.

[User]
 The Long-Tooth tribe has become complacent and weak. They have forgotten their history, they have forgotten their strength, and they have forgotten their roots.

First we shall deal with the roots. The Long-Tooth tribe will begin to re-learn their druidic magic and use it to grow the surrounding flora and fauna. Bigger plants means more food gathered by the gatherers and bigger animals means a tougher and more rewarding hunt as well as more meat.

So, early in the morning the druids rise and move through the area quietly "seeding" the flora and fauna with their magic. Then the strongest of the tribe hunt with spears and the others gather fruit and berries. Those unwilling or unfit to provide for the tribe provide for it in death, their meat being used just as any game animal's.

[User]
 Spoiler: Solkari
Hunting and  farming both go poorly, leaving almost no extra food. 20% of the population will die before the year is out.

On the bright side, Archery has been discovered! +2 to hunting rolls.

 Spoiler: Ulthanar
Hunting and fishing has barely brought any food in, and a full tenth of the population died trying to clear land. Another tenth will die due to starvation before the year is out.

You have slightly more land.

 Spoiler: Wanderers
Hunting goes poorly, bringing in hardly any food. In addition, many die trying to clear the land, but many more succeed. 20% of the population will die before the year is out due to starvation.

You have significantly more land.

 Spoiler: Wud
You manage to bring in some food by hunting. Only a tenth of your people will starve before the year is out.

 Spoiler: Long Tooth
You barbarically feast on your own weak, culling the herd of the sickly and diseased. (Gain +1 to any one physical stat.) In addition, your hunting brings in a great deal of food, giving you stores for the upcoming year of 10% your needs.

Your druidic magic fails, but you know what to do next time. Druidism discovered.

[User] When prey falls dead the Wud eat it.  When Wud fall dead prey eat them.  Always birds take a finder's fee.  Urk bid the Wud lay their dead on the slopes and continue the hunt.

[User]
 To cope with the emotional impact of the mass starvation, the Solkari add the following to their Religion:
"We bury the body so that it may return to the earth, allowing the spirit to journey towards Elysium, the Paradise Plains."  (Solkar decided that keeping the dead out of sight would help moral)

New Year:
Given the empty huts from the mass starvation, the settlment plans are reduced.  Given the low amount of food, the Solkari focus more heavily on the present.  Hunting to Farming is divided 2 to 1.  Moonthly (Not a typo) communal storytelling is introduced in order to allow others in the tribe to learn better ways to hunt and farm from the successful.  Social recognition reward for the top 5% of people bringing in the most food.

[User]
 The year following the Cataclysm was a hard one for everyone involved. Despite their efforts, the elves suffered heavy losses. Nonetheless, there was no choice but to keep moving forward. It was with a heavy heart, but with unshaken determination that the people of Ulthanar continued their efforts to colonize the land. Despite the setbacks, some progress had been accomplished, and, while Aethel was disgusted by the thought, the losses meant it was now easier to feed and lodge everyone. Simply relying on hunting and fishing would not be enough, and might exhaust their ressources, but the clearing efforts had given the elves good lands to cultivate. The priority shifted toward agriculture, in order to establish a stable source of food as soon as possible.

After some hesitation, it was also decided to focus on building rowing boats with the collected unused wood. It would be a helpfull boon for the fishermen, no longer restricted to the coast and rivers, and claiming back the sea would no doubt prove helpful in the longer term. Long ago, the leves of Ulthanar sailed across the globe ; that seem impossible to achieve right now, but it is nonetheless a good way to reclaim their old heritage.

Finally, the brightest minds among the elves were tasked by princess Aethel to reform an academy, in order to stimulate research and store rediscovered knowledge. The gigantic libraries of Ulthanar are likely lost forever, but a fresh approach, to store those new lessons in survival, will be the first step before the survivors might start to rival the erudites of old. It's also a good way to reform an elite to better administrate the survivors.

[User] This year goes much the same as last year. The druids attempt to "seed" the local flora and fauna. This year though, the weak are not culled. Those who are not well enough to hunt may build, they create (better/more advanced?) weapons to help the hunters as well as shelters made from beast hide and branches. (I'm thinking similar to wigwams and other such structures) As last year though, the main goal is to gather enough food to feed the tribe. Any structures or weapons made are just bonuses.

[User]
 Wanderers

Distraught by the continued onslaught of bad luck upon the Wanderers, the Ascended decides to focus more on the food gathering than the expansion. Once a series of camps set up near the coast and the forest, he turns the Wanderers towards fishing and developing farming techniques. The Wisemen still are a focus, albeit less so than the immediate food shortage.


[User] Dodedodeedooo... just ignore me....


[User]
 Level 1-4

It's a warm summer evening, just about perfect. A cool breeze blusters in from the northwest, carrying the promise of encroaching autumn with it, but at the moment it brings you a welcome relief from the heat of the day.

After spending most of your summer delving into the deeps and dungeons beneath the land, you're just happy to be able to relax in the comforts of a world in which the sun sets and rises. For what seems like the first time in ages, you're not so worries about what might be lurking just around the corner of behind the next door as you are about the terrible prospect of draining dry the local tavern's stores.

You have just finished a marvelous dinner at the Stumble Inn, the weathered wooden sign creaking over the door depicts a booted foot tripping over a lump of gold. The innkeeper and his wife -Carbad and Kamalda, an honest pair of retired farmers as weather beaten as their place's sign - have hauled out their very best for you. They know that you are restless to be on your way and that they aren't bound to have the pleasure of your company for much longer.

Just as you are about to raise a toast to your deserving host, a rumpled shape staggers through the inn's open door.

You reach for your weapon, startled at the intrusion, but before you can act, the figure crumples to the floor. The innkeeper dashes over and kneels beside the stricken stranger.

"Marcaeus!" he gasps, the looks back up at you, his face filled with dread.

You rush to the fallen man's side. He's alive, but barely so. He's literally been beaten within an inch of his life, and his right leg is twisted at a decidedly uncomfortable angle. You roll the man over onto his back, and he groans loudly as the bones in his battered leg crunch together. His eyes flicker for a moment and then open wide. This gaze, clouded by his intense pain, fixes directly on you.

Just before he mercifully passes out, he reaches up and grabs you by the front of your shirt. "My son," he whispers through his battered lips, "they've got my son!"

[User] " Who? Who has your son? " the little kobold inquires of the injured man. This was shaping up to be a somewhat  interesting  evening.

[User]
 The gnome that had been drinking with the kobold hops off of her bar stool and walks over to the man, rocking back and forth or her feet like an anxious child as she comes to a stop.

As she is about to speak, the man loses consciousness from his injuries.

 "Oi! Rude much?"

The innkeeper, Carbad, checks over Marcaeus' injuries thoroughly, pulling the coin purse from his belt as he does so.

"It doesn't look like he was robbed. Seems that the boy was their target all along, but if it was ransom they wanted, why didn't they take the coin he had on him too?" he puzzles aloud.

Jabbing the kobold in the ribs with her arm, Sandra asks,  "Hey, you got some of that healing magic ready. Don't you?"


[User]
 " Stand up! " a man barks.

Nonius Legionari looks up from the ground as the powerful orc soldier towers over him, a greatclub stretched out and pointed at his chest. " If I was your enemy, boy, you would be dead right now. This isn't enough. Your puny little legs aren't  getting out of the way  when I swing. Do you want to wear that armor? Then I suggest you learn to start moving in it! "

He raises his greatclub and swings again, this time barely missing Nonius's skull by a hair's breadth. " Are you even going to fight back? I guess it's true what they say. Small blade, small - "

" Are you quite done, Linnaeus? " a voice asks coldly. The orc freezes up and drops his weapon. He turns and bows politely. " Forgive me, my Lady. I did not see you enter. "

 Spoiler

From the kitchen, Lady Felicia Legionari steps out into the courtyard. She gazes over at her son with concern. " Nonius, my dear, you simply must show some improvement soon. Else, I fear your father shall see little point in continuing these lessons. "

She folds her parasol and holds it in front of her, touching the ground like a cane. " Honestly, have neither of you stopped to look at the clock? We have quite a busy night ahead of us. "

Nonius had nearly forgotten. Tonight, there was a gala being held at the Presci estate. His elder sister, Cersi, and her fiance would be the guests of honor in preparation for their wedding next week. He needs to put on a good show of things.

[User]
 Nonius gets up from the ground, raising the visor from the helm of full plate Linnaeus had insisted he try out. Told him it would build his strength, make him more of a real knight, like his father was. Nonius is pretty sure he'll need a can opener to get out of this armor. He nonetheless manages a stiff, awkward, clanking bow to his mother. Lady Felicia had married into the Legionari house from House Imblase, and she hadn't lost any of her grace and beauty which that upbringing had given her, even after having two children. Nonius is especially conscious of that fact as he fumbles to take off his helmet. Blond hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat, and he lets out a small groan as he feels the soreness in his muscles from the day's training.

"I remember, mother,"  he insists, though he is internally scolding himself for forgetting.  "We were just wrapping up,"  he says, casting a pointed glare from the corner of his eye to his tutor. The full plate would have to go. Nonius is nowhere near light enough on his feet wearing it. He isn't used to hefty two handed weapons, and he sort of misses his rapier. He doesn't see the point of this war drilling, really, there hasn't been a war for so long, and in times like these, duels to settle differences aren't just about winning. They're about grace and form and... well, that's what Cersi had been telling him, anyways. And she is as skilled a duelist as anyone could hope for. He'd miss her, once she was married and gone to House Presci. He hasn't yet met this fiance of his sister's, and he isn't sure if she has, either - he knows they have been corresponding, and that they've likely been to grand balls at the castle together, but Nonius can't say he remembers the man, particularly. He'll have to make a point of meeting him, tonight.

 "I'll be ready. Don't worry,"  he assures his mother, dipping his head to her again - and nearly falling over. Heaven, but this armor did make him feel top-heavy.

[User]
 Nonius enters his home to prepare for the evening. As he walks down the hallway, he hears a happy bark.

Romulus, his father's faithful pet fox, trots up to him. The fox barks again and wags his tail, demanding attention.

" Have you said your prayers to the Commander yet today? You know that you can thank her for what skill you possess with the blade. "

Felicia halts in the hallway as the pair pass by a portrait of Nonius's grandfather. Felicia sighs as she looks up at it, then turns away.

[User] It takes Nonius nearly ten minutes to get the armor off, and he doesn't have much care for it as he drops it onto the floor of the armory. Once liberated of the metal, he stoops down to pet Romulus, feeling the ache in his shoulders dissolve the longer he's without the platemail.  "Of course, mother,"  he says.  "Every morning, just as I was taught,"  he says. He looks up to the portrait once they're out in the hall, noting the way his mother observes it.  "Is something the matter?"

[User]
 Romulus yips and runs around Nonius's legs.

Felicia looks over at Nonius as if she has forgotten he was there. " What? ...No, nothing. Your grandfather...it's still hard to believe he's gone. "

The former lord of the house had only passed away a scant three years ago. Felicia and her husband are not too much older than Nonius, with Felicia having given birth to Cersi when she was thirteen and Nonius when she was fifteen. " In any case, you are needed elsewhere. Put on some decent clothes and go see your sister. She's probably having a fit right now. "

[User] "Cersi has never had anything I would describe as 'a fit,' mother,"  Nonius says, a smile on his features and in his tone as he says the words, nonetheless. He nods and clicks his tongue for the fox to follow him, if he wants to, before heading over to the east wing of the house. This is where he and his sister had their rooms - Cersi's was on the end of the manor, with the most windows. He heads straight there and knocks on the door.

[User]
 As Nonius walks through the halls, he nearly bumps into a cute young human boy with blonde hair. The boy is wearing a white and black suit and carrying a silver tray with a tea pot on it. He lets out a quick gasp and tries to steady himself, but he falls forward. He crashes into Nonius and lands on top of the young lord, with the teapot shattering and both of them covered in hot black tea.

The boy looks down at Nonius, his wet hair matted against his forehead. He blushes and quickly stands up. " L-Lord Nonius! Please forgive me, I wasn't watching where I was going... "

The servant's name is Plaster Blanc, and he is seventeen years of age. He was born in Legionari Manor and has been a servant of Cersi's since he was seven years old.

[User] Nonius can't help the small smile that appears on his face with he runs into the servant. The younger boy has always been clumsy, and while it used to aggravate Nonius, it's now caused him to develop something of a soft spot for the servant. The boy is always rushing, always eager to please and do his best.  "It's all right,"  he says, pointing at the broken teapot and using his Mending spell so that it reassembles itself. There's still the drink to clean up, but the teapot looks good as new, now.  "What's the rush?"  he asks.

[User]
 Plaster thanks Nonius for his help and sets the teapot back on the tray. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and starts dabbing at Nonius's cheek, looking up at the older man timidly as he cleans him up.

After a few minutes, Nonius is mostly dry again.

" There was a surprise visit to the Manor, my lord. Your father has a very important guest in his study. Oh no...now I have to brew a fresh pot of tea... "

[User] "An important guest?"  Nonius asks, looking absently in the direction of his father's study.  "Who?"  he quizzes the boy. Nonius could only hope their surprise visitor hadn't had a view of the courtyard where Nonius had been making a fool of himself in training.

[User] Plaster gulps and looks around for a moment before leaning in and whispering. "  I think it's the king, my lord!  "

[User] Those whispered words made Nonius' shoulders go rigid with surprise and nerves.  "Are... you serious?"  he asks, his own voice dramatically lowered. Now he really hopes he hasn't had a surprise spectator to his training.  "How long ago did he arrive?"  he asks.

[User]
 Plaster opens his mouth to answer, but then a loud crash sounds from the hallway behind him. It sounds like a vase or something just broke against the wall.

" Where is Nonius?! " a woman yells angrily. A few servants meekly mutter about fetching him.

Plaster blinks. " Sounds like Lady Cersi is looking for you, my lord... "

Perhaps his mother wasn't joking after all.

[User] Nonius bristles at the sound of the vase shattering, jerking around and hand going to his hip - like he's reaching for a sword, but there's not one there - before he recognizes his sister's voice.  "I've never heard her like that,"  he says, under his breath.  "I'd better go,"  he decides, hurrying off down the hall to Cersi's quarters.

[User]
 Spoiler

Cersi turns around as Nonius walks towards her. " There you are! Oh, little brother, I've been so lost without you! " She reaches out and snatches Nonius up, pulling him into a hug as she sobs gently. She pats his head and whimpers for a few minutes before giving him a chance to breathe again. " Nonius, what ever am I to do? There will be so many beautiful women at this gala! All of them will be drawing my fiance's gaze. Those shrews and harpies! If I were the queen it would be the gallows for anyone who even  looked  at my prince! "

She stomps her seven inch heel angrily. " Well, I will show all of  those  harlots! I will be the most spectacular sight in the entire kingdom tonight. That's what I called you here for, sweetie. I need your help to look as beautiful as possible. "

[User] Nonius easily wraps his arms around his sister and draws her close when he sees the state she's in. He can count on one hand the number of times he's seen her cry, so this - whatever's wrong must be quite serious. "I'll help you, of course," he promises, taking hold of her hands gently when she breaks their hug.  "You look so much prettier with a smile, Cersi. Let's see what we can find for you to wear,"  he says.

[User]
 " A smile...right. " She takes a breath and smiles down at Nonius, looking like her old self again. " Oh, all of these rags are worthless. Purple is so two months ago, but I simply fell for the craze...anything I try on looks outdated and childish on me. "

Her room is a mess of outfits, with gowns of various shapes and colors discarded all over the floor. There are streaks of lipstick across the mirror at eye level, likely the result of Cersi getting frustrated and marking over her own reflection. A few hair pins sit on the bed, and two of Cersi's servants dash around the room quietly, eager to clean the mess up without giving her reason to turn her ire against them.

[User] Nonius doesn't know much about court fashion or trends like that, but he does know enough to help his sister out.  "Well, all right, no purple. What about red?"  he asks.  "You'll catch everyone's attention if you're in red. I know mother has some fabric, ah,"  he glances down the hall as he hears another crash. Poor Plaster.

[User] Cersi's face turns bright red. She squirms uncomfortably for a moment before bowing her head. " I don't...have Mother's...figure, " she admits after a few seconds. " There's no time for us to sew a brand new gown out of fabric! "

[User]
 After a few minutes of searching around, there is a knock at the door.

Cersi growls and throws it open, about to yell at whoever is interrupting her. However, when she sees her mother standing on the other side, she instantly cheers up. " Mother! Oh, it's so awful, I- "

" Believe me, my dear, I know  exactly  what you are feeling right now, " Felicia replies with a smile. She hands Cersi a box. Cersi blinks down and rips the top off. She pulls out a bejeweled silver gown and an emerald necklace.

" M-Mother, I...I don't know what to say! "

" I think you have a lot of preparations still to do tonight, dear. Your brother and I will leave you to that. "

Cersi nods firmly. " Thank you! I won't let you down! "

She grabs Nonius's arm and shoves him out of her room so she can start changing. Felicia follows with a chuckle.

" Ah...to be young and in love. " She turns to Nonius and nods. " Nonius, you might need to miss the party tonight. Your father wants to speak to you. It sounds urgent. "


[User]
 Your zeppelin is docked in the port city of Kutsaud in Lychen, on the southern coast. The crew is out barhopping, some minor pirate activity out over the ocean has a few of the biplanes needing some repair. For the mechanics, it means a long few nights' worth of work. For the rest of you...beer.

A few bars in, the six of you find yourselves in the Silver Serpent - the dive bar drunks go to after they get thrown out of the other dive bars in town.

[User]
 Well, for most of them anyway.  Being the requisite absolute lightweight and near-teetotaller, and being a bit of a mother hen towards the rest of the logistics of the mercenary crew... Kamui has nonetheless gotten tugged along for the pub crawl reluctantly, but seems to be insistent on keeping her eyes glued towards their accounting books and outgoing expenses.  The dark-haired woman is dressed as she normally is -- a chiffon crepe sleeveless white dress and black skirt to go with her opaque armwarmers and thigh-highs, along with a black cloak.  A bit dainty and princess-like, perhaps, but that was pretty much how the handmaidens back in Rayh chose to dress Kamui.

" Estimated 8 hours for the A7M2 repairs, quote was eyeballed at 1,000 and 3,000 pieces adjusting for market inflation and unforeseen circumstances due to potential fatigue from ocean conditions... " she murmurs to herself, scribbling notes and otherwise pointedly being the one not drinking.

[User]
 Mumbling and grumbling Bralog somehow was convinced by the promise of ale to disembark and make his way with the crew to the Silver Serpent. It was the type of place that Bralog approved of, dark enough that seedier dealings could be had but not too dark to were you couldn't spot the glint of the dagger aimed at your back.

Bralog was dressed in whatever furs and leathers had managed to stick onto him as he rolled out of his bunk a few days prior. It had been a few weeks since his last bath so Bralog was starting to get a nice earthy aroma going just like a proper dwarf. He wished he didn't have to bathe every few months but the crew usually promises mutiny when his aroma overpowers their weaker non-dwarf noses.

Bralog plops himself down and grumbles in a surly tone  "Who does a dwarf got to skin around here to get some Thunder Ale."

[User]
 Lyss got into the bar with her characteristic light step, cheerful demeanour and cocky attitude. She had her rapier on her waist, and was very much willing to have anyone tell her weapons were not allowed there. She was wearing some comfortable boots and trousers, a white blouse, and her characteristic red coat. As always, she was ready to smash noses, drink too much, and woo if the situation presented itself... Which it did.

  My dearest captain!  , Lyss said approaching fast to Kamui. She sat at the table, next to her.   Why are you so lonely sitting and so un-drunkly staring at paper? Whatever still needs doing can equally well be done tomorrow... You should relax...   Lyss rose her eyebrows pointedly, clearly offering herself to help.   Shouldn't she relax, you handsome devil?  , she asked yelling over the bar to Bralog.   Get me some ale and our beloved captain some... orange juice with a dash of champagne! I promise to get the next one  , she added with a wink.

[User] Kamui blinked a few times and leaned back, in that telltale way of hers when Lyss got rather flirty with her.  Just a little rose-cheeked, like an innocent maiden who really wasn't used to being flirted upon.  " Really, these things will never finish themselves-- " but she pauses when it was quite clear Lyss was not going to hear any lip to the contrary.  " I suppose that would be fine... " while some sense of forebodance rose in herself.  Surely a  splash  of champagne was fine... would it not be?

[User]
 Overhearing the exchange from a nearby table, Robert decides to put in his two cents, seemingly not remembering what happened last time... Or perhaps hoping to watch a repeat from a safe distance.

  "C'mon Cap, learn to live a little!"


[User]
 Norzen, you and your bodyguards were returning from the end of a hard fought quest when a strange light engulfed you. When the light fades, you find yourselves out in what appears to be a wasteland, much unlike the environment you had come from. It is obvious to the three of you, but mostly to the brains of the group, that you are not in the same world as you once were. Before you have the chance to react though, a dragon flies overhead, letting out its breath weapon upon you three before landing on between you and what appears to be a city in the distance.

 Spoiler
Take 20 Acid Damage, Reflex DC 21 for half.

[User]
 Spoiler
Norzen save:  (1d20+12)[ 18 ]
Spawn Save:  (1d20+9)[ 27 ]
Gaurdia Save:  (1d20+6)[ 25 ]

[User]
 As your party readies up in response to the dragon, a Giant tackles the Dragon, pushing it back a few feet as the Dragon roars. The two begin to fight back and forth between each other, obviously no longer paying attention to the party whatsoever.

What do you do?

[User] Norzen takes the full force of the random attack and then huffs out of anger. " Alright, where the hell are we, and why the hell are we being attacked already!? " He looks to be visibly angry, and when the others ask what they are to do, he huffs and mentions that they should leave the two dolts to their party. Norzen and his party begin walking to the city in the distance.

[User] Norzen and comrades head towards the town, moving away from the Dragon and Giant as they make their ways forward. As they near the dome that encompasses the city they can clearly see though, they come across a man carefully retreating from what appears to be a pack of wolves.

[User] Norzen blinks and looks to his party. They share the same apathy that he does, so he yells out to the man. " If you require assitance, we may help. For a fee, of course. " At this point the large Spawn huffs over looking very bestial while Guardia looks as calm and stern as he always does. Both men being in front of Norzen.

[User]
 The man yells back, backing up as another Wolf leaps at him, and he barely avoids it. "A price? For just arriving here you are pretty full of yourself. How about you help me and I explain to you where in the planes you are!!" As he finishes, another Wolf gets him, biting into his leg as he retreats further, trying to get some safe distance between him and the Wolves.

 Spoiler
If you're gonna fight, roll initiative. If not, I guess you just doomed Doran, lol.

[User]
 Norzen nodded to the other two and the three prepared to fight.

 Spoiler
Norzen:  (1d20+4)[ 9 ]
Spawn: (1d20+5)[ 16 ]
Guardia: (1d20+1)[ 19 ]

[User]
 The wolves turn towards Norzen and companions. The first one leaped at Spawn, growling as it tries to rip his throat out, failing as it does. The next one charges at him too, failing to succeed as before.

Guardia is up, there are eight wolves altogether. Two are adjacent to Spawn. Be sure to roll any Attacks of Opportunity he uses. The remainder are between 20 and 50 feet away from the party. Two are still facing Doran.

[User]
 Gaurdia, the bulky man in shining silver armor, casually walked with sword and shield drawn drawn to drawn to the nearest wolf in and twenty foot pace. He charged his deep crystal long sword in order to deliver and hopefully brutal blow.

 Spoiler
Attack roll:  (1d20+11)[ 22 ]
Damage with greater psionic weapon and deep crystal: (1d20+4)[ 17 ]  +5 from collision + (6d6)[ 19 ]

[User]
 Guardia hits the wolf cleanly with his weapon, and while it was a telling blow, the damage wasn't quite enough to take it down. A fourth wolf leaps on Guardia, attacking with great power, but fails as Guardia deflects it as though he were swatting a fly away.

Spawn is up. Two are adjacent to Spawn, two to Guardia. Five more yet to go.

[User]
 Spawn initiates a flurry of strikes against his nearest foe.

 Spoiler
 (1d20+17)[ 26 ]  Damage: (1d8+10)[ 14 ]
 (1d20+17)[ 28 ]  Damage: (1d8+10)[ 17 ]
 (1d20+12)[ 30 ]  Damage: (1d8+10)[ 12 ]


[User]
 A Fistful of Darkstone
Its a beautiful spring day in the New Mexican territory and the Brimstone Rails train to Lestina is rolling along. You passed through Woods End about 20 minutes ago and have been informed that you should be crossing Clayton Ravine in about 15 minutes and rom there it will be another hour until Lestina.

The train isn't particularly full, the 3 passenger cars only have about 20 people in total, so there is plenty of space.

 Spoiler: OOC

There are 3 cars. The first one is First Class, the other two are regular seating, the rest of the train is baggage cars. Pick what cars you are in and where you are roughly seated. The back two rows in the third car are unavailable as they are taken by some Confederate soldiers.

[User] I am by myself in the middle car, drinking heavily.  But it doesn't seem to help.  I am dressed better than some congressmen, but I am in steerage and drinking the cheapest firewater available.  It isn't like anything better would get me drunker.  If the  Goyim  see a greedy Jew looking to make money out of what is happening in Brimstone, they won't ask to many questions.  And that is all to the good.

[User] Physical description:  The man stinks to high heaven like paint thinner and is clearly wearing his best clothes, which probably means he doesn't have any others.  He is really pale and seems to have some kind of breathing problem, because he is often gasping and short of breath.  He looks like an observant Orthodox Jew, assuming you actually know what such a person might look like, which you may well not.  He seems really out of place, but you get some weird intuition that most people are more afraid of him than he is of them.

[User]
 Erich "Dutch" Krueger

Up forward in the First Class car a well-dressed, middle-aged man has spent the journey working hard - but not in a way (or at a task, for that matter) which many other people would  recognize  as work. With a cheerful smile, the lean figure has done his best to engage each of the other passengers - in cards and conversation, if they're willing to play a hand or two; or at least in conversation otherwise. Gradually he works his way down the length of the car, subtly gathering information about what to expect once the train arrives at its destination.   "No place in the world like a boomtown!"   he says on multiple occasions, blue eyes twinkling behind his round, wire-rimmed spectacles.

[User]
 The rich southerner wants to be friends with everyone.  The only swears bad enough for this situation I know are in English, and I am not uttering them where someone might understand.  Faking passing out isn't going to work.,
 Being rude is more dangerous than being polite.
 Isaac looks up, and tries to act a different level of inebriated that he is.  I would not do to draw attention with this many soldiers and bystanders around.
Put on a happy face.  Convince the strange, smiling stranger you are also a smiling stranger, and not so strange.
Convincing  Goyim  he is a nice, boring man is a weird new experience.  No one would act like this in New York towards a Jew, but, honestly, that might be because no one would act like this in New York towards anyone, full stop.    How sad is it I miss misanthropic apathy?    he mutters sotto voce in broken Yiddish.

Once we get to Brimstone, there will be space, solitude, and less witnesses if something needs to be done.


[User]
 OOC

Trumpets sounded throughout the Land of Mogor!

The cruel Emperor Thuul's Dark Rite was thwarted. The Seven Demon Princes were driven back to the Abyss, and Emperor Ghuul's own grandson,  Shalrook the Scoundrel  himself wrested the Crown of Many Eyes from the Emperor's severed head.

All was well...

    Six Years Later...

King Shalrook the Liberator struggled to keep awake through yet another audience with the leader of the "Freefolk".

Every month they came with more demands. More reminders of how much they helped Shalrook in his flight from Thuul's Night Legion. More complaints about paying their fair due of taxes.

" Your Majesty, surely our people have paid more than their due already? How many of our sons fell in the Second Battle of Weeping Grave... Urk! "

The prattling suddenly stopped, as one of the faceted gems from the Crown of Many Eyes glimmered, and the leader of the Freefolk fell asleep.

Shalrook the First stood tall and addressed the throne room.

" The days of living in the past are over, O People of Mogorlund. No one knows more than I the sacrifices made to topple Emperor Thuul's regime! But do I come to you and ask to be given a free ride? No! You begged me to wear this horrible Crown! "

He glared at the crowd, daring anyone to contradict him. No one did.

" Our Kingdom is beset on all sides by enemies, and we squabble over who has to pay for an aqueduct! I could have just ridden off with my beloved wife to Lands Westward, leaving you all under Thuul's boot. You could all now be begging for death and the Hordes of the Abyss consumed your children!

" I endured the tortures of the Pleasure Garden! But rather than embrace the mercy of death, I fought on! I watched the Night Legion trample my mother as the people of Bend cowered in their hovels. But I fought on! I cradled my Syla's dying body and swore to her I would fight on! And you dare tell me of your sacrifice?! "

He glared at the collected lords, ladies and ministers. None dared meet his gaze.

" We have all sacrificed. We will all have more sacrifices in the days to come. "

King Shalrook the First slumped down onto his throne.

Sacrifices would have to be made.

I will fight on.


[User] Please post any OOC questions or discussions below.