conversations: human
conversations:  Episode 1:Welcome to beautiful Los Magico!
  
   A sunny oasis in California with colorful people and an interesting past. Visit sandy Tiger Beach! Shop in historic Market Road! Meet new friends!
  
  At least, that's what the brochure claimed. You'd found it some weeks ago, a time that seemed so distant now. You'd picked up the old, fading pamphlet and knew that this was the place. A place where you could lay low, gather your strength or maybe just live a normal life. You didn't know for sure at the time, but this seemed like the place to go. You hopped on the first bus you could.
  
  The reality was much different then the pamphlet had claimed, and in some ways this made it even better for you. The city was run down and old, although not in complete disrepair like the worst parts of Detroit. The people barely looked at you when you arrived and as you got a feel for the city, exploring it's streets and alleys. It was less "spooky ghost town" and more like the people here appreciated their privacy as well as others.
  
  In a lot of ways, this was better for you. No questions about your past or what you do. It didn't take you long to find a place to live, the landlord barely asking you a single question. "Can you pay rent?" and just like that you had found a place to live. That was two weeks ago, and now it seemed that maybe answering yes so quickly had been the best idea. You were nearly broke after moving in.
  
  It's Friday at about 10:00 AM and the sun is bright outside. The whole day stretches ahead of you, and for a moment you can almost forget about the horrible things chasing you. What would you like to do?
  
   
   Spoiler 
  Feel free to progress however you see fit. It will be mostly sandbox for the first few updates, though I have no doubt you'll see the plot creeping in. I would suggest meeting the other players and getting a feel for the town
   
conversations: Algerin:
conversations: human
conversations:  The best thing to do in such a situation was to get your feet under you, but... it had been two weeks, and just how did someone get their feet under them without their name showing up? Bancroft had been in business, not odd jobs, and despite having run a construction company for decades he was more informed about the management aspect than the actual construction.
  
  But that could wait. He was on his way to meet the only person he knew in the odd city at a pub almost identical to the one they'd first met in. He barely knew the Fae, so familiarity would be a boon in their meeting.
  
  His business suit was intact, though it was growing somewhat worn after what seemed an eternity of fleeing from unsure foes. It was a dark grey, matching the color his hair had taken on almost two decades ago. Not much had changed in that time, and the former businessman still looked relatively young for being in his late fifties. Wasn't that a side effect of magic use?
  
  Petty musings and curiosities would have to wait, for the bus had just reached his stop. From two blocks away, Henry made his way toward the Twist of Fate.
conversations: Blackfish:
conversations: human
conversations:  The Twist of Fate lay at the end of a short cul-de-sac in Mesa Village in the northern part of Los Magico. It was a long single story building built of Adobe and sandstone, same as the rest of the buildings lining Mes Villages too narrow and pothole ridden streets. A simple wooden sign has "The Twist of Fate" burned into it and a picture of two six-sided die underneath it, one showing a 6 and the other showing a 1.
  
  Inside there's a short step down. The floor is made of boards of various color and size and some look as ancient as the town. Light shines into the building from windows set high on the wall, illuminating only choice portions of the bar. Pictures, news articles, dollar bills and other oddities line the walls, all of them a story of a moment when someones luck changed for better or worse. Beside the entrance is a an original Pac-man arcade cabinet. A dozen or so tables litter the ancient floor, all of them a different make then it's neighbors. Likewise the chairs did not match. Everything from stools, to recliners, to dining chairs to even a large wooden stump surround the tables. Against the back wall are several more modern booths. The bar itself is made of polished Walnut wood and practically gleams in the sun. Behind it are numerous shelves, nooks, crannies and cubby holes all of which held some type of liquor. Two large wooden barrels lay on their side on the lowest shelf, a tap on each of them. A simple wooden door with "Employees Only" stood at one end of the bar. On the opposite side of the room was another door with the sign "Test your luck" hanging beside it. You knew that this lead to the restrooms, as well as the poker room that was at the very end of the hallway. The bar smelled of wood and spirits.
  
  Despite the early hour the bartender, Cyril King, is sitting at one of the bar stools reading a book. He's an average sized man, with curly brown hair and green eyes. He was wearing his work uniform, and the sleeves were pulled up to his biceps. Rather large biceps at that, you note. As you walk in he looks up, and he smiles and raises his hand in greeting.
  
  "Can I get you something?" He asks.
conversations: Algerin:
conversations: human
conversations:  "Actually that item isn't for sale anymore.  Someone else has already ordered it."  London tells the client, a middle aged woman in an expensive designer outfit.
  
  The item is question is a question was an antique table that the inventory said had been in the store for the last five years.  No one had actually expressed interest in it, but London had picked up a few tricks during the short time he ran his own store and his own unique talents made things even easier.
  
  "No!  I have this chair.  It'll be perfect for my dining room.  How much are they paying for it?  I'll pay double!"
  
  "Well, I really shouldn't..." London says reluctantly.
  
  "Triple!" She says pulling out a checkbook.
  
  "If you're sure.  That is an awful lot of money ma'am." London concedes.
  
  "Absolutely.  This will blow those vases Missy Gilmore right out of the water.  How soon can it be delivered?"
  ---
  
  After wrapping things up with his last customer London closes Barlow's Antiques.  He'd just started working there a few weeks ago and since he'd been living in the small office on the second floor, he'd barely left the shop since arriving in town.  Madeline Barlow rarely deigned to come to Los Magicos herself and appreciated having someone to take care of the place.  Plus, with London's own talents he'd been able to move a lot of pieces that had been at the store for years.
  
  Needing to get out of the store for a while, even if he was laying low, London decides to head to the Twist of Fate.  He didn't know anything about the place, but he had seen it while coming into town and it couldn't hurt to check it out.
conversations: Tarren:
conversations: human
conversations:  Barlow's Antiques tended to close early on Friday, and you managed to find the Twist of Fate with only a little trouble. It was what could be described as a "bad" neighborhood, but really it was just an old one. You could practically feel the history humming in the cracked and crooked sidewalk.
  
  You arrive at the Twist of Fate a little bit after one, chuckling to yourself a bit as you stepped through the doorway into the bar. It only took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness of the bar.
  
  It was certainly a well-worn place. Mismatched tables sat with mismatched chairs. A gleaming bar beckoned, hundreds of bottles, cases and barrels sitting behind it. You could practically smell the history here.
  
  An average looking man sitting at the bar looks up from his book as you enter. He smiles and raises his hand to you.
  
  "Welcome to the Twist of Fate. You new to town?"
conversations: Algerin:
conversations: human
conversations:  Henry gives his accomplice a tight-lipped smile and nods his thanks for the order,  taking a seat beside him at the bar. He gives the countless bottles behind the counter an unhappy stare and digs a sprig of rosemary from a pocket, grinding a leaf between thumb and forefinger and dabbing just under his nose with a finger. That would be enough to temporarily curtail the scent of the bar, now he'd just need to keep his eyes from the bottles.
  
   "It's a town, I guess. Haven't found anything to keep me occupied, what about you?" 
conversations: Blackfish:
conversations: human
conversations:  London takes in his surroundings.  It was certainly a quirky place.
  
  London smiles as the man addresses him.  "I'm London, like the city.  I just started running the antique store for the owner.  I've been too busy to really explore the area before now.  This place seems like as good a place as any to start.  It's certainly an interesting place."
conversations: Tarren:
conversations: human
conversations:  The bartender nods and hooks a thumb over his shoulder. "I aint no expert but I'm pretty sure I got some antiques back there. Some of that stuff has been around since the 1900's. Took a sip once. Once." He laughs and leans on the counter and motions over to the only other two patrons in the bar.
  
  "This is Caern and Henry. They're just settling in too. If you're looking to get to know the city, I suggest jus' walking around. Market Street's a good place to get lost in. Go a little south and you can get REALLY lost in Alleytown. It's got some good people, 'specially round that game store down there. Jose down at the job center could make better introductions I 'spose. He comes aroun' here often enough. I hardly leave the bar most days anyhow. Pokers every Saturday though, if ya feel like losing some money." The bartender stands and goes to refill Henry's soda.
  
  "lemme know if ya'll need anything, I got some brews cookin' in the back room." He disappears through the door behind the bar. He seemed friendly, with his easy smile and Texas drawl. It even takes you a moment to realize that something about him seemed off.
  
  Never once did he look you in the eyes.
conversations: Algerin:
conversations: human
conversations:  “Think I’ll come with you, if you don’t mind. Boredom is the mind killer or something like that. I could use a better look around town, while I’m here. Maybe a little time to do some research.” Henry rolls his neck from side to side, letting out a laboured sigh, and pauses the look down the bar when his name is aired.
  
  He nudges an arm at Caern in case the other man hadn’t heard them referenced, and nods to the newly-arrived antiques dealer. A swig is taken from the cola in time for King to have something to refill.
conversations: Blackfish: