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Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: You aren't!
Wow! Tough times. I'm glad you weren't among the casualties. I wish I could say that I was just waiting on you, Cathy. Then I wouldn't feel like such a lazy butt. Truth be known, I've had a double-whammy explosion of my own that I've been dealing with which has left me lackluster in the gaming area. So, my apologies are extended to the players of this game for my delays. Hopefully I'll find the muse again soon. Either way, I won't wait too long. I don't want the excitement to die off.
Posted on 2009-03-19 at 04:41:05.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Nothing?
There's a lot o' fixin' needs doin' about Rocinante. I believe that were you to look close-like at what's lyin' 'bout that junk yard ya might even find some parts t' give our mule a little extra kick, if'n ya catch my drift (pardon me fer bein' the muse, Mr. GM).
I'd say that ol' Wolf has more freedoms t' be about his business o' fixin' up our ship than the rest o' us have of interactin' with him right now.
For my part, I apologize right perty-like fer not postin' o' yet. I was hopin' t' see sum'in from Rob by now. Seeing how he's still not present, I'll be posting as soon as I've the time so the games all ready t' burn atmo once Roger an' Cathy return.
Posted on 2009-03-19 at 04:34:28.
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Topic: completely off topic
Subject: Fun!
Looks cool. If I were the least bit interested in baseball I'd be thrilled. As it is, I'm stoked.
Posted on 2009-03-17 at 23:56:03.
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Topic: Raven's gone (for only a while)
Subject: A Coup?
I stand firmly between Olan and any would-be usurpers. At nearly three hundred pounds (give or take a couple) and very determined, I don't expect much to get by.
Besides, I happen to know Olan is highly proficient in three forms of swordsmanship, and I personally gifted him with a vorpal blade for Christmas this past year. And seeing how he's a nineteenth level...everything (and a twenty-fifth level the rest of the classes, I don't see much that gets by me not being devoured by his AWESOME POWER.
Posted on 2009-03-17 at 05:19:43.
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Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: Posts--or lack thereof
Hmmm...
Posted on 2009-03-15 at 06:33:14.
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Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: Oh?
Who said I haven't? Feel free to picture the evil grin here.
Posted on 2009-03-10 at 23:39:26.
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Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: Oh, I knew.
Tease away. I read your comments fully realizing you two were teasing. I just like barbing you further.  I can't just let comments like that go without pointing out things that make players squirm a bit more. It wouldn't be ethical as a GM.
Posted on 2009-03-10 at 04:26:21.
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Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: I'm playing the world's tiniest violin for you blokes.
Point in fact, Sui: she's wearing an evening gown, not a night gown. And, I had the set up planned from the beginning. Just because we aren't playing 'Punk doesn't mean I won't be devious.
Gboy: you saw the die rolls. You could have had him, but you didn't deal enough damage to penetrate the armor. So sorry  but the game is now...afoot.
Posted on 2009-03-10 at 01:12:14.
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Topic: Star Trek: The Guardian Saga Q&A
Subject: The game has been updated.
Please have all of your posts in place before the next weekend as that's when I'll be posting again. If you've any questions, feel free to ask.
Posted on 2009-03-08 at 21:52:59.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Maybe Rob will have posted by then? ;)
And we can all enjoy your game once more when you return!
Posted on 2009-03-08 at 21:51:58.
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Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: Two of five updated again.
OK, so I moved Sui and gboy on. I'll post again next weekend. Please make sure you have all posted before then. Thank you.
Posted on 2009-03-08 at 21:51:11.
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Topic: The Embodiment - A FUZIONfantasy Game
Subject: A clean get away, and a not so clean getaway (2 of 5 posted for)
People’s Ward | Just to the south of the Home of Heroes by about a block and a half | The City of Davnor | Sendria | Claise 23rd, Teladay, 452ER, 7:45pm | Partly Cloudy and Snow-Covered
(Dice Rolls: Awareness/Notice [25])
With his mind made up, Shiften continued on his chosen path towards the all too familiar stables at which one of his only, and one of his oldest, friends worked. The journey through the dark streets and alleys of the People’s Ward went by quickly, and without concern. There were precious few people who chose to be out in the cold at night, and those that were tended to be so concerned with finding a way to get inside that they ignored practically all others who found themselves in similar situations. The guard were about the only exception to the rule, and they patrolled the buroughs of the People’s Ward in far less force than they did the other wards of Davnor. So, within a little longer than he’d originally anticipated due to the roundabout method of approach, Shiften soon found himself peering across a wide street that separated him from the stable house.
The street had never been paved, and wagon tracks mixed with horse and people tracks had torn the muddy earth up shaping it into small ridges and ruts that were now frozen solid, making the path a treacherous one should a person not be careful. After all he’d pulled off this night, to sprain an ankle on something as ridiculous as a muddy road was nearly a humorous thought. The conditions continued right up to the two extremely large barn doors, but Old Pen had spread hay across a good ten feet of ground there, and it looked a little more inviting with the golden light of the lanterns and fire he likely had running spilling through the cracks of the stable’s structure.
Another five minutes spent watching the area, looking for any telltale signs of a tale, or someone keeping their eye on one of his haunts was just another careful method Shiften had for surviving as long as he had in the dangerous profession he’d chosen. Despite the cold that threatened to eat the very marrow of his bones, the thief remained steadfast in his chary practices; not making his way towards the door set within the door until he was as positive as he could be that it was a safe move.
Lifting the latch to the small door, Shiften pulled it open, his head turned slightly to the side so as not to be blinded temporarily by the soft hue of the lantern light, and then he was through, the door being dragged behind him.
“Well, I was jus’ sayin’ t’ Ruthtundrel here tha’ it’d been some time since yer las’ visit, Boy,” Old Pen’s voice was deep and gravelly, and he had a way about him of speaking slowly as though he hadn’t a care in the world. The old man made no move to rise up from the bale of hay he sat upon, brown ceramic jug in hand, but he chuckled a bit as Shiften drew his hood back.
Just as the rogue had figured, Old Pen had started the night’s fire, and he and two other men were seated about it sharing a jug of alcohol, stories, and just comfortable silence. Ruthtundrel was one Shiften knew: a broad-faced young man with the intellect of an umber hulk and no tongue to spout off any stupidity as the favor of having it removed had been taken by a Sendrian priest of D’Hurgen some a couple of years earlier for making just such a stupid comment. The other man was new.
“This here’s Tyrugyn. Been workin’ here close to a month now. Good chap, an’ all, but has himself a hunger for things above his station,” Old Pen chuckled again at the sour expression tossed his way by the heavily bearded, black-haired man seated on the hay-covered floor across from him.
“Only thing above one’s station’s what they let it be,” he whined in a surprisingly high voice.
“C’mon then,” Pen lifted the jug up towards Shiften and thumbed indication at a bale of hay. “Have a seat, Boy. We’ll drink away this Winter’s bite.”
The evening’s tensions washed away as Shiften enjoyed the company of simple folk. Tyrugyn was prone to talking about how he deserved to be living a better life, but he was a good, down to earth individual otherwise, ready to share in a joke, or pass the jug just the same as Pen. Ruth would sit and smile broadly, making throaty sounds when he wanted to pantomime something that would usually leave the group in stitches, and Old Pen was true to form in his easy-going, noncommittal manner. As the mid of night rolled in upon them, it found Ruth passed out drunk, drooling from his damaged mouth down his chest.
“Well, one more pass around t’ see t’ the horses, an’ then I’m gonna catch me some shut eye,” Tyrugyn moaned as he struggled drunkenly to his feet, stumbling over the corner of the bale he’d been leaning against and nearly toppling to the floor. Old Pen chuckled and then seemed to freeze with that goofy smile on his weathered face.
“I would have thought you’d have kept better company for the caliber of thief you are,” a female voice stated from slightly behind Shiften and to the right. Spinning about, the thief caught sight of the very woman he’d stolen the necklace from that evening standing just outside of the shadows of an empty stall, her evening gown very much out of place for the scenery. She appeared casual, beautiful, cold of countenance, and her narrowed eyes were upon him with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine.
“Don’t bother trying to run,” she crooned. “I would just find you again. Magic is rather useful for such things, and besides, I would like the opportunity to talk.”
People’s Ward | Old Pen’s Stable | The City of Davnor | Sendria | Claise 23rd, Teladay, 452ER, 11:55pm | Partly Cloudy and Snow-Covered
The West Ward | Westgate Guardhouse | The City of Ethryn | The Kingdom of Ertain | Claise 24th, Viladay, 452ER, 6:54am | Partly Cloudy and Snow-Covered
(Dice Rolls: Lloyd [Fencing 26, 28, 26, 23]; Madius [Dodge & Escape 27, 25, 16; Crossbow 31]; Tales [CON Save 13])
Lloyd sprang into action, calling out instructions to the watch sergeant and his men in the hopes that they’d comply as he pushed past the pilgrims standing between him and Madius. He didn’t have time to confirm whether the men would do as he’d asked as his full attention was on clearing the distance between him and his target before that crossbow was pulled free of the cloak. His rapier sang as it was lifted free of the frog and Madius’ eyes narrowed at the quickness of the bounty hunter.
Years of training brought the point of the rapier in line with the man’s arm as intended, but Madius arched his back and rolled away in a move that tangled his crossbow further, but kept Lloyd’s first strike from connecting.
“Out of the way!” Etaulph’s excited voice rang out behind Lloyd.
“You there! Hold your position!” Fenaril bellowed.
Lloyd stepped after Madius and slashed at his bicep, the black tearing through the sleeve of the man’s tan shirt, but scraping off of his chainmail.
“Don’t move!” Etaulph echoed Fenaril’s orders from somewhere in back of Lloyd.
“Stop him!” the other guardsman called out, obviously trying to get the crowd involved.
Lloyd danced left and then quite suddenly lunged forward, putting the point of his blade into the upper left shoulder of the assassin’s friend as it presented itself when the man tried to step backward. If it hadn’t been for the tall bounty hunter’s reach, Madius likely would have avoided yet another attack, but as it was, Lloyd felt the blade slip through the chainmail links and penetrate at least an inch of muscle. When he withdrew, blood followed almost instantly, and Madius grimaced with the pain.
“He’s heading for the alley!” Etaulph cried.
“I’ll cut him off!” Fenaril advised.
It was obvious to Lloyd that Madius’ attention was split. The man was forced to deal with the dancing blade in front of him while he very much wanted to keep an eye on his charge, and the bounty hunter took full advantage of the distraction. In repost, Lloyd feinted to the left, then rolled with Madius’ natural tendency to move to his own left and placed another telling blow to the man’s chest, this time on the right side, a little lower down the peck. Again, the blade penetrated the chainmail and the assassin’s friend grunted with pain as Lloyd quickly withdrew.
“Move!” Etaulph and Fenaril called practically in unison, but Lloyd did not know to what they referred as he continued his focus on Madius. Two flesh wounds and perhaps the fellow would find himself more interested in saving his own skin…at least that was the hope.
That’s when Madius’ crossbow came free of its binds. The man did not level it at Lloyd as the bounty hunter had originally suspected he would, but instead twisted about and pointed it off to Lloyd’s left. The twang of the cable and the whistle of the bolt filled Lloyd’s senses as the man successfully released his shot.
Lloyd couldn’t help but glance after the bolt, watching as it slammed into the right scapula of the panicked Tales some forty meters off. It was a brilliant shot considering the man’s wounds, the sporadic darting of the assassin, and Lloyd being right in Madius’ face, but what was more disconcerting was the fact that as soon as Tales began to stumble from the impact he suddenly exploded into gray dust, clothing and all.
One moment he is running through a crowd of alarmed people darting away from the two city guardsmen who are in pursuit, and the next it is as though he didn’t exist. Turning his attention back to Madius, Lloyd knew that he had to capture this one, or all would be lost.
“Hey there!” Witigus’ stammering declaration echoed across the now silent courtyard. “You—you just hold your position, now!”
Lloyd had no idea of the exact position of the watch sergeant, just that he was apparently still near where Lloyd and he had been searching those wanting to leave Ethryn.
Lunging forward once more, the bounty hunter hoped to capitalize on Madius’ lack of focus, but the assassin’s killer was already trying to roll from the attacker resulting in the rapier scraping along the man’s chainmail shirt.
“Almost,” Madius winced, offering Lloyd a pain-filled smile through his salt and pepper beard.
“Frepreci!” the man declared dramatically. There was an explosion of smoke and a rather brilliant—if momentary—flash of light that left motes of light dancing in Lloyd’s eyes and his throat constricted.
“He’s—he’s gone!” Witigus had arrived at the bounty hunter’s side and stood looking at the bluish gray smoke that the wind was dissipating with wide eyes, and sword in hand. “He just vanished!”
Sure enough, Madius no longer stood bleeding in front of Lloyd. The courtyard was again filled just with the frightened and confused general populace of Ertain’s capital city. In the span of a few seconds, Lloyd had lost two marks and the five thousand royals he’d been counting on to set things right with Cynthia.
The West Ward | Westgate Guardhouse | The City of Ethryn | The Kingdom of Ertain | Claise 24th, Viladay, 452ER, 6:54am | Partly Cloudy and Snow-Covered
Posted on 2009-03-08 at 21:48:11.
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Topic: Star Trek: The Guardian Saga
Subject: Lady Luck
Inorlia (a Class B Planet), North Pole | Stardate 51717.9 (09-07-2374) 07:05 hours | The Guardian remains in orbit around Inorlia a Class B Planet within two light years of Koralis within the Bajor Sector, The Alpha Quadrant.
(Dice Rolls: Curzon Sharl [Jury Rig + 7 LUCK + Exploding 10 = 36])
The Jem’Hadar fighter was a sleek vehicle designed for quick maneuvering. Its only downside was the speed at which it had to travel. There was no hover, and in atmosphere, there were no zero-G moves that would allow the vessel to turn on a dime. While this was the saving grace that had allowed the away team time to reach Lt. Kavk’s side, it was also to their detriment as the destructive blaster armament was now trained on their location.
“Look out, it’s turning!” Ensign Goodhart bellowed as the last leg of the enemy fighter’s turn ended and he found himself staring across the sloping valley at the pincer-like front end of the ship.
“It’s coming back!” Malton barked just a heartbeat behind his friend.
Some people state that Time slows down when you’re faced with impending death. In this case, time seemed to speed up for the surviving members of the away team. When the lieutenant died at Dr. Pierce’s feet, relaying to him the logic behind pursuing the enemy facility in order for extraction, the ensign hurriedly made one final attempt at hailing the Guardian before Ral yelled, “Come on! He’s dead, nothing more we can do!”
With seconds left, Zackery pointed back towards the cover from which they’d just come and reiterated the pilot’s observation.
“Come on Pierce, Drake, we need to get out of here! Stop standing around, he’s gone!”
“Okay, then.” Ensign Goodhart acknowledged, helping to hoist Dr. Pierce to his feet with his left arm under the medical ensign’s elbow for support.
Just as Ensign Ral had turned away and began the slippery journey back to where Curzon was still in hiding, the Jem’Hadar fighter zipped overhead, filling their ears with the strange metallic hum of its engines. Its blasters didn’t fire, it didn’t drop any ordinance, and it flew straight over the top of them without any indication that it had seen the four Starfleet personnel scrambling up the pebble-filled hillside. But as they all kept tabs on the path the fighter took this time, they all saw it begin to sweep about once more for another return fly over.
Ensign Ral was the first to slip over the lip of a small crevice that housed the Trill engineer. Dropping to a crouch in the shadow of the large pinnacle, the pilot caught sight of the man typing furiously on his tricorder, a cord running between it and the phaser pistol connecting the two devices. A couple of seconds later and Ensign Pierce slid into the fox hole followed by the two tactical officers.
“I didn’t think it would work, but it looks like it did,” Curzon breathed as he waved the tricorder at his companions. “I altered the sensors to emit a temporary false reading, amplifying it with the phaser’s power cell. It might work for one more pass, but then the weapon will be empty, and we’re back to square one.”
Anyone with even a bit of engineering knowledge knew that what the Trill had done had been nigh unto impossible, and it had most likely saved their lives…for the moment. Now the decision was upon them. Trapped at the north pole of a Type B planet with a hostile atmosphere and Starfleet’s number one enemy about to bear down on them, the away team was without their leader, had no way current method of communicating with Guardian, or the other away team, and was minutes from having their own version of a Romulan cloaking device peter out. According to Lt. Kavk’s last words, there was likely a Dominion facility a little over five kilometers to the north east through some very rough terrain, and they had a little over eight hours worth of air left to them.
Life as a Starfleet officer had its perks…but right now, expanded quarters and extra holodeck time wasn’t looking so appealing.
Inorlia (a Class B Planet), North Pole | Stardate 51717.9 (09-07-2374) 07:06 hours | The Guardian remains in orbit around Inorlia a Class B Planet within two light years of Koralis within the Bajor Sector, The Alpha Quadrant.
Posted on 2009-03-08 at 20:32:46.
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Topic: Alacrity LOA
Subject: Take what's needed!
By all means. If I can do anything, give me a call, send me a P.M., or email me. Good luck!
Posted on 2009-03-08 at 19:57:57.
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Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: Ah, so...
My plot to get the kidnapper to reveal himself has worked.
Stay right where you are Sui. No one has called the cops. No one is going to be breaking down your door with a barricade buster that has "G'Day!" painted on the side in just a few minutes...
Posted on 2009-03-07 at 07:29:46.
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Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: No posts
No posts by Sunday morning means no continuation post from me for the week.
Posted on 2009-03-07 at 00:39:32.
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Topic: Reboot
Subject: It means friend...
In Mandarin Chinese. We play in Alacrity's excellent Serenity game and we through Gorram Chinese around occasionally to spice up the dialogue and stay true to the game.
Posted on 2009-03-05 at 03:30:57.
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Topic: Star Trek: The Guardian Saga Q&A
Subject: I'm counting down.
I'm giving these layabouts one more day to get their posts to me before I eject them from the game.
Either way, and we're close to moving things on.
Posted on 2009-03-04 at 05:31:47.
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Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: Good Question
A couple gold a month would be considered decent income for most farmers during regular season, with there being a heavy fluctuation during harvest upwards of twenty-five gold for that season. During winter months a farmer would see absolutely no income and have to live off of savings, reserves, and what they could scrounge up.
In the city, those working in such places as taverns would make a decent wage at triple to quadruple that.
You can't expect adventurers to be charged 10gp for a rope and not have farmers eventually be able to afford one.
Posted on 2009-03-04 at 02:34:50.
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Topic: YeOlde Hiatus
Subject: Tis a bummer...
Would really like to at least know he's OK.
Posted on 2009-03-02 at 22:46:07.
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Topic: Reboot
Subject: I'm sorry, but...
I'm not twistin' his knobs! There's something seriously wrong with that thought!
When are you posting, Puhn yo? Huh? Huh? Huh? Huh? Huh? Huh? Huh? Huh? Huh? Huh?
Posted on 2009-03-02 at 22:45:07.
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Topic: Star Trek: The Guardian Saga Q&A
Subject: Cooner and TsAh...
I have yet to receive posts from either of you (despite me reminding you to post while I was out of town). So get your butts in gear!
Posted on 2009-03-02 at 22:42:25.
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Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: I'm glad you're enjoying it.
I've just updated the thread for the three of you who have posted. Looking to post again Sunday.
Posted on 2009-03-02 at 22:41:34.
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Topic: The Embodiment - A FUZIONfantasy Game
Subject: Everyone's at a crossroad...Where will they lead?
The West Ward | Westgate Guardhouse | The City of Ethryn | The Kingdom of Ertain | Claise 24th, Viladay, 452ER, 6:50am | Partly Cloudy and Snow-Covered
(Rolls: Awareness/Notice [36. 29]; Human Perception [28]; Initiative [20])
“…Do you understand what I’m getting at?” Lloyd asked while continuing to rap on the barrels. The watch sergeant gave study to the gray cloaked man for a few breaths in silence before releasing the grip on his sword’s hilt and acquiescing with a nod.
“Um,” the wagon driver intoned with some hesitation. “Am I—uh—free t’ go, yer lordships?”
With all of the barrels apparently full of dull-sounding content, Witigus waved the driver on.
“So,” the watch sergeant said as the wagon lurched forward and one of the draft oxen bellowed in protest. “What does this fellow—this Tales—look like?” At the same time as this, he motioned Fenaril and Etaulph back to position.
(OOC: assuming a response such as: I don’t know.)
“Don’t know what?” Fenaril drawled, holding a middle-aged couple bearing large sacks over their shoulders off for a second while he and his fellow guardsman walked between them and the departing wagon.
“What the fellow he feels is worth troublin’ that bloke yonder for looks like,” Witigus answered, spitting on the frozen ground and eyeing Lloyd from beneath his eyebrow. “We’re supposed t’ see who meets up with him and assume that the new arrival is the murderin’ scum that seen t’ Count Urolin this night last.”
“Him?” Etaulph glanced over his shoulder to where Madius still stood watching them, his heavy cloak draped about his shoulders, shielding him from the cold wind. “He had somethin’ t’ do with that attack on Count Urolin?”
Etaulph wasn’t the only person staring at Madius at that point. The two with the sacks, and the group of ragged-clothed individuals behind them were also eyeing the colorless man.
“Don’t be starin’ at him you idiots!” Witigus hissed and used an open hand on the side of Etaulph’s helmet to bring his attention back to matters at hand. “No you’ve like gone and warned him off, you smelly pile of orc shite!”
“Sorry,” Etaulph ducked his head in shame. “It ain’t like we gets much action here this time o’ the year. Wasn’t thinkin’.”
“No,” the watch sergeant growled. “No, you weren’t. Now, search these poor folk here and git them out the gate, you sodden lock of ogre tail feathers!”
Etaulph and Fenaril hurried to comply with the grumpy NCO’s orders while Witigus followed their headway with his eyes. He offered Lloyd no apology for his men’s actions, but neither did he look at the tall bounty hunter. For his part, Lloyd had returned his attention to the crowd about them. All of the commotion brought on by the stupidity of guardsmen could very well warn Tales off, and that would cost Lloyd his bounty. So, the tall man gave careful study to those within a quick jaunt of the gate, studying their faces—particularly those carrying packs—and that’s when he spotted just what he was looking for.
Appearing somewhat harried, a man of average height broke free of a small crowd gathering to say their goodbyes to a loved one, and while they were still saying their farewells to the fellow in their midst, this man rapidly searched about with his bulbous, watery eyes. His blonde hair was oily and matted to his balding head; wisps of which were clinging to the day’s growth of stubble about his sallow cheeks and jutting chin. His nose wasn’t exceedingly large, but it did protrude at a crooked angle from his face, and his lips were partially parted emitting blasts of frosted air in such intervals as to indicate someone who had been hurrying for some time. He wore a heavy wool tunic over patched cotton, long-sleeved, tan shirt, and dark gray leggings wrapped tightly with coarse rope about the thighs and waist. His boots were low and were obviously worn, making travel an uncomfortable prospect, and he carried a burlap sack over his left shoulder, holding it with two hands. The traveling cloak that he wore was filled with holes, and the bottom already bore the mark of old mud and water stains.
Having suddenly found himself away from the crowds, the man stopped short until his eyes settled on Madius. With a smile that could only be read as relief creeping across his face, he started towards the earth-tone garbed man, releasing the bag with his right hand long enough to offer Madius a wave.
As Lloyd followed the man’s approach, movement caught his attention from the corner of his eye, and to his dismay he saw Madius fling his cloak aside and begin to raise his right hand. Lloyd saw the glint of pale sunlight on the drawn cord of a hand crossbow and ripple down the bolt as though accentuating the danger there, but Shinara was on his side that morning, for Madius’ weapon got momentarily caught up in his cloak—the frustration he suddenly felt apparent on his face.
The West Ward | Westgate Guardhouse | The City of Ethryn | The Kingdom of Ertain | Claise 24th, Viladay, 452ER, 6:54am | Partly Cloudy and Snow-Covered
The Temple of Rydor | The Empire of Drannon | The City of Drefast | Claise 4th, Viladay, 452ER, 10:23am | Abnormally Warm
(Rolls: Human Perception [33])
“What might Rydor be trying to teach you, in making you serve me this short time?” Caterina queried of the young acolyte, eyeing her with those golden eyes that so many bards had composed songs about.
“I wouldn’t pretend to guess at my lord, Rydor’s wisdom, your holiness,” Jenora kept her gaze averted towards the floor and her voice no more than a whisper. To the paladin, it wasn’t that she was showing reverence towards the woman in the room with her, but their shared god with her attitude. She still appeared to be unimpressed with the Lady Aguila D’Oro’s achievements and status.
As Caterina continued to watch Jenora’s reaction, the rustling of heavier robes came to her attention just before the wood door to her cell was gently pushed open. Standing in the doorway was the Master of the Iron Tomb and Hiterung of the Compassionate Law. Manderes’s countenance was one of worry until he realized that young Jenora was present, and then his furrowed brow was immediately smoothed, and a calm smile overtook the pressed lips.
“You will wait the Lady D’Oro’s wish in the corridor, Acolyte,” Fetrese ordered softly while stepping aside so that the beautiful young lady could follow his orders. Jenora said nothing, but offered a deeper bow than before and slipped from the room, allowing the other two men to step inside and close the door behind them.
“I’m afraid it is not the news we’d hoped to bring,” Manderes’ expression returned to that of concern.
“Our message to your friend could not be delivered,” Hiterung followed up.
“Perhaps you should explain the nature of the request you sent through Rydor’s power, Brother. Then she might, indeed, see the magnitude of such a statement.” Manderes Fetrese smoothed out the front of his robes and waited for his subordinate to comply.
“The sending prayer,” Hiterung breathed. “Delivers a message across any distance, without error, on the wings of Rydor’s power to the individual designated. Only then can the message be refused—if so desired by the receiver—but this was not the case with your friend in Rayther. It was as though the message were…blocked. Something blocked the power of Rydor from completing.”
“My Lady D’Oro,” Mandrese took a deep breath. “Your dagger has been sent to our alchemist, but it is likely going to be some time before we see the results of their work. For whatever reason, your message to your friend was countered. What would you have us do at this point?”
The Temple of Rydor | The Empire of Drannon | The City of Drefast | Claise 4th, Viladay, 452ER, 10:26am | Abnormally Warm
Noble’s Ward | About two hundred yards from the gate separating the Noble’s Ward and the Scholar’s Ward between the two gates | The City of Davnor | Sendria | Claise 23rd, Teladay, 452ER, 7:18pm | Partly Cloudy and Snow-Covered
(Rolls: Persuasion & Fast Talk[19])
His mind made up, Shiften set off for the south gate, arriving at the road through a snow bank just out of sight of the guard’s vision, engulfed in the blanket of darkness that comes between when the moon and the sun agree to take over each other’s shift. Strolling down the street, he arrived in short order amongst the flickering lights of the pylon torches, his white cloak having been replaced by his usual blood red cloak with the deep cowl. Tucked inside his tunic was the priceless trinket so recently stolen from the estate of the Lady Solan.
The first of the guards to spot him sauntered out to the street and dragged the cuff of his gloved hand across beneath his nose as he sniffed loudly.
“Oi there!” he called, bearing a deep Pardinal accent. “Ware ya ‘eadin’, an’ wot be da business yer abou’?”
(OOC: Shiften’s answer?)
“Fine,” the guard sniffed loudly again and waved the thief on. “Buggar off den, an’ quit wastin’ me time.”
So it happened that Shiften managed to walk right through the gate without so much as a problem. The streets of the Scholar’s Ward were far less cluttered than that of the People’s Ward. As this was the ward that housed the Church of D’hurgen, most treaded lightly through this area of Davnor lest they disturb the priests of the quarter, and that was a frightening thing indeed. But for Shiften, this was a casual stroll. There was still no indication that his heist had been discovered, and most of the people he passed were in a hurry to be out of the cold, or were priests of D’hurgen about their business. Shiften passed by the towering complex that was the church of D’hurgen and continued down Lestral Lane to the Home of Heroes, and from there, wrapping about the circle, he turned due south and walked into the depreciating buildings of the People’s Ward.
There are many opportunities for a man of Shiften’s talents to join the thief’s guilds in any given city, but Shiften had always remained apart. He was a man of mystery, and though people who walked in the shadows knew of his deeds, and attributed them to one man, no one knew who he truly was. It was a luxury that had helped keep him alive through the many years he’d been practicing his trade, and the enigmatic nature of his being was something he desperately fought to maintain, so he had no safe houses to go to, no guild to lay low within. He did, however, have Old Pen…if he so desired it.
Old Pen had worked a local stablehouse for as long as Shiften had known him—the man had first allowed the thief to quarter then unbeknownst to the stable owner during a rainstorm when Shiften was but seventeen summers. He still operated that stable in the People’s Ward, and he still didn’t know what Shiften did for money; only that occasionally, Shiften showed up at his door and spent a couple of nights in good company.
Aside from Old Pen, Shiften’s possibilities were to find a run down inn and rent a room for a few nights. The latter would insure Old Pen’s safety, but it wasn’t nearly as enticing as having the old man’s company. Without pausing in stride, the thief caught his bearings. He was approximately five minutes walk from Old Pen’s stable, and this time of night the hostler would be settling down with a bottle of rot gut, and a small fire to keep him warm, having tended to the horses. He would likely have one or two other hostlers with him—who exactly, Shiften couldn’t be sure. He hadn’t been to visit Old Pen in close to a month, and many times that was more than enough of a passage in time to replace those that he got to know in Penewen’s company. As far as inns went, he was three minutes from the Dead Wench House, and seven from the Unicorn Cellar.
He’d been to both of them at one point or another. Both were run down, but the Dead Wench was ran by Nadallu, and Nadallu was something of a unique character in Davnor. She was a Syl, and a worshipper of Salerna. She and Shiften had never tasted each other’s embrace, but she was a very attractive woman who valued privacy. He’d once discovered her private sanctum in the bowels of her little inn, deep down a cellar stair. He’d heard screaming one night while entering the inn late and had quietly made his way to investigate. He’d discovered Nadallu in a vigorous love-making session with a fellow who looked to be in quite a bit of pain. Nadallu had somehow caught sight of Shiften (he’d been much younger then) and though she could have reacted in any number of ways that would have resulted in the young thief being very much in trouble, she’d just smiled in her naked glory and continued her worship. Since that time, Shiften wouldn’t exactly call them friends, but she tolerated his occasional visit to her inn and they minded each other’s business.
The Unicorn Cellar was less dramatic, and more run down. The second story had collapsed in an unfortunate fire some years back and the owner had been crushed to death in a rather fiery fashion. Since then, shadier of the denizens in the ward had taken over it as rats would, hollowing out the land beneath it to form a series of rooms that were interconnected by low corridors, ladders, and iron gates. It stank, it was often damp, and every time Shiften had spent time there, he’d been properly ignored.
People’s Ward | Just to the south of the Home of Heroes by about a block and a half | The City of Davnor | Sendria | Claise 23rd, Teladay, 452ER, 7:45pm | Partly Cloudy and Snow-Covered
Posted on 2009-03-02 at 22:38:50.
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Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: Nice post, Vanadia!
So, I'm back from Vegas. I only won $50 (not counting what I spent on the slots) in penny slots. Considering that I won, that we saw the Comedy Stop, and Circus de So...um Myst...um. Yeah, well. The trip was a success.
Two out of five players posting? Well, I'll work with it. Thank you two for posting!
Posted on 2009-03-02 at 04:33:55.
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