[Game Thread] Ch 1 - To Rob a Thief

[Citizen Sam]

”Fade” After finally having enough time to clean himself of the grit and grunge of the previous evening’s activities Fade was in a greatly improved mood as he rejoined everyone at Alfonso’s, clothing and half-cape freshly cleaned and pressed as he made himself a plate from the spread offered to them by their handler. Not too much to appear gluttonous, but not too little so as to appear suspicious. And he’d take his seat with the others as they were debriefed. He was not surprised that they’d succeeded in the test. After all, it was quick (outside of a certain detour), clean, bloodless work once they had found their quarry. The only mistake he could think of was allowing Dale to have spotted some of the party’s faces… …Though that didn’t seem like it was going to be a problem now. Fade raised an eyebrow as he heard of Dale’s demise. He was curious how Dale managed to ‘resist arrest’ when they had left the man bound and helpless…not foolish enough to voice his query. He wasn’t that new to this line of work after all…’resisting arrest’ can take on many creative forms when it came to the City Guard. So Fade masked his concerns with charming smile and a nod. He had questions…but now was not the time and Reese was most certainly not the person to be asking. Nevertheless a toast was offered to his companions. “To a job well done! May our next assignment go as smoothly.”

[Murdoch]

Sheridan Sheridan manages to take a little time away from stuffing his face with all of the delicacies he has been missing since leaving home to notice that Garnet is quite out of her element. The fancy surroundings and rich food are just things he had come to take for granted in his previous life and it hadn't occurred to him until just now that it might be unfamiliar at the least, or even overwhelming, to someone who has grown up in the less well-to-do portions of the city. Setting his fork down, Sheridan quietly puts a plate together, filling it with things like ham, olives, bread, and some of the less fancy cheeses. He makes sure to include at least one of the sweet pastries because those are a particular favorite of his and he doesn't know anyone who doesn't enjoy a good pastry. He leaves off things like the caviar and the smoked sardines. He is convinced that no one actually likes that type of thing at first, they only keep eating them so they can acquire the taste to fit into higher society. He did manage to learn to appreciate caviar, but it took him a while, and he will never forget spitting the first bite he ever took into a napkin. Once the plate is full, he casually approaches Garnet and offers it to her, trying not to draw too much attention to what he is doing because he doesn't want to make her feel any more uncomfortable than she already does. "Here," he says, quietly. "I grew up with this kind of food, so I know what to avoid. They shave the ham very thin because people think that makes it look fancy, but it tastes good and with enough of it you can still make a good sandwich. Take it from me, no one really likes caviar or sardines, they just eat them because they think they have to in order to look rich." When Garnet hopefully accepts the food, Sheridan will sit next to her to hopefully let her feel more comfortable and so he can answer any questions she might have.

[Oakie]

7 Ches 1490 Only Boz and Garnet voice questions. To Boz and everyone, Reese says, "I have to leave in a moment for other business, but the room is booked until 1 pm. Enjoy yourselves here, if you care to. I do suggest that you stagger your leaving." To Garnet's question about whether they were followed the whole time, Reese only gives a wink and touches the side of his nose. After a few more minutes of pleasantries, Reese does leave.

OOC RP posts due Thursday and Sunday, 11:59 PM EST (UTC-5) (DM RP posts due Friday and Monday, 11:59 PM EST) I'll start our Chapter 2 adventure with my Friday post. Meantime, I'll work through conversations about Sheridan and Garnet in their private threads asynchronously. If you each care to, write a post this week about your character's between-adventure doings. Totally optional, but I'd like to read them for fun and world building. FYI: How Dale came to be killed at the gate ... Fingers came back to the house an hour or so after the PCs left and freed Dale. They continued with their plans. Telora was already waiting outside the city for everyone at the rendezvous point. Fingers and Big Kelvin, who weren't specifically being searched for by the Guard, went out independently of each other and Dale. Dale was being smuggled out under cargo in a wagon, but of course, Ebonclad had tipped off the Guard about which wagon to search and where. He stabbed a guard trying to escape and that started a scuffle he didn't survive.

[97mg]

The Thickness of Ham Garnet had learned to trust Sheridan. Fade and Boz too, of course, yet she still felt like there was a great deal about these two particular colleagues that she was yet to learn. It kind of helped perhaps, that Sheridan owed her his life. The young druidess wasn't one to keep tabs on favors or require tick-for-tack though, such concepts had never crossed her mind. In learning the arts of healing, Garnet had been required to weigh the gift between the benefits of doing so for financial reward, and also practicing with a vision that in simplicity, lives mattered. She was just too young, naive, and possibly uncorrupted, to realize that being able to choose between warm breath, and cold flesh, was a power that might one day offer significant leverage. No, it was more that the very magic deployed in healing Sheridan, had side effects. Not for him, thankfully, those scars would heal. For Garnet though, the mending of flesh and preservation of form was a deeply personal, gratifying and honest deed. She would forever now feel connected to him. Responsible for his well-being and preservation. Furthermore, he was smart, funny and accommodating, not to mention a master at working with hair! She'd blushed when he'd sat beside her with a plate of oddities. Embarrassed by her lack of culinary knowledge. Ashamed that even though she could make herself invisible at a moment's notice, she could never hide her heritage, position on the bottom rung of a city's social ladder, or simple lack of familiarity with what many considered commonplace. As common as sliced ham. As Sheridan worked to tame her awkwardness and personally introduce the plate's contents, one by one, Garnet began trying to relax. Most might take a deep breath, steady their hands, or simply smile. The druidess though, unknown to her friends, found a place of calm and slower heartbeats amongst other things. Study and observation. She'd eyed the food as though it was a patient, the subject of an experiment, or even an animal to be preserved for the tests of time. Caviar. She had no idea what these translucent little balls were. Though they were the size of spider eggs, their appearance was more like a spherical jewel. She'd not heard of an animal or fruit named "caviar" either. It had been kind of Sheridan not to include them in his hand-picked assortment. Sardines. These she knew! It helped that they looked like fish of course, but as for their taste she'd have to take Sheridan's word for it. The oily coating and pungent aroma was quite a turn-off, and honestly, the only good fish she'd ever eaten was quite simply grilled as-is on hot coals, and served with one's fingers. The ham? Her companions might catch her staring at the thin slither of flesh through narrowed eyes. In excitement her guard was let down. "What is this magic? How do they slice it so thin? Like, imagine how sharp the knife is!" It struck her that whatever tool was used, she wanted one. She'd make her own if necessary! She imagined being able to trim skin from bone so thinly, so neatly, that it could be grafted elsewhere. Not all roadkill was without trauma, and being able to do transplants and make up "what isn't there" could really save some time! Turning to Sheridan, she then smiled to him openly, before taking the slither between two fingers and giving it a bite. The merest nibble was had before she agreed. "A sandwich? That sounds like a plan." Yes, by combining things together, perhaps she'd be able to conjure up something more... familiar. A bit like this group she supposed. All strange and so very different, yet so effective when served as one. These people, they were part of her sandwich now. Friends mushed together between humankind's staples, necessity and ambition. Choice of Species Although speaking the whole truth wasn't going to be an option, Garnet, her true name Seesa, had clearly conveyed to her mentor, Old Wooleye, that a scrap she was no more. At least not to her employer. As for the rest of the city, the jury was still out. Seesa's demeanor had been cheery at first, this particular morning on some following day, but her life-coach knew this young woman better than anyone else in the world. There was an odd darkness in the way she broke eye contact at times. A new layer of hesitation brought the very beginnings of a tremble to the enunciation of certain words. Words like... "death". Before, they had been spoken respectfully and with acceptance of the inevitable. Now, they contained undertones of sorrow and regret. "I know there are things you can not tell me. This is the way of things now, but speak what troubles you. It is my fault alone that you are now tied to this path, the only consolation that in doing wrong, I might do what is right for you and the ones you love." The druidess turned away, her eyes downcast towards the freshly-mopped cobblestone floor. "I am content like... happy, please..." She was still processing much that had occurred, and none more so than Reese's revelation that Dale, their mark, the man whose life they'd spared, the brute who'd come so close to ending her, had subsequently been killed. "You are too unalloyed, little one. I can not protect you from what comes as you clear your own path though this ill-fitting life. But... I can help you protect that which matters most to you. I am not speaking of the practice with blade we have done, nor of sewing skin or the trickery I have taught. I expect, that now, you are ready. Come, we leave. Now!" Wooleye had done his research, as was befitting a master in nature and the workings of men. To Seesa's great shock she found herself traveling with him out of the city proper, and then off the main road into thick and tangly undergrowth. For the remains of the day they walked, following the banks of a gurgling stream, across fields of grasses tall, and eventually into dense woodland. "We make camp here. But tonight, there will be no sleep. You shall never forget this evening that you meet your other brethren. You shall not speak of your work, mind you. There is friction enough in the Circle..." Seesa had no idea what he was on about, but the opportunity to sit and let a pair of worn calf muscles stretch, seemed far more of immediate importance. Sometimes Wooleye was just like this. The only difference was that they were outside of the workshop for a change. A blessed change, truth be known. She looked to him and smiled. "I will always like... try to make you proud. You know that, right? Can you like... tell me what is actually going on here, right now, though?" He finally came clean. Her supposed "brethren" were druids. They'd been summoned here by him through magic means that the old fellow refused to elaborate on. Tonight, she would be welcomed as one of them. A ceremony of sorts, and then the lessons would begin. For a young woman who found sideboards of exotic food to be intimidating, the whole prospect of being inducted into some age-old tradition, via nighttime ritual none the less, was horribly terrifying! No wonder they'd chosen to do it here. Out somewhere unfamiliar. A place she couldn't leave, at least not without becoming horribly lost. "Do you trust me?" Of course she did. This was her old friend. The only man aside from her father who understood why a girl might be obsessed with vermin and animal carcasses. What followed would be lodged in Seesa's memory for all her remaining years, yet much of it would come to her slowly, through recollections and strange moments when memories layered themselves on top of reality's immediate needs. Probably something to do with the drink, that large strange and hollow nut that had been passed around and sipped by all. It surely had tasted slightly of... mushroom? We say "all", because over the course of the night, no less than seven fellow druids flowed through the spaces between trees, greeting Wooleye and Seesa with everything from suspicious nods and narrowed eyes, to full-body hugs and laughterous joy. A halfing. A half-elf. A half-animal of some kind. Their forms and ways were many. To recount all the events of this fateful eve would take far too long, but one in particular would not soon be forgotten. "Servant of the meek and strong alike! A shelter from pain! A canopy over those sodden by the acid of greed in the name of progress! Protector of those who become prey, and those who follow with obedience! Repeat after me! Teeifactius asolus, disapolia erudillia!" Stood all in a circle, in the dark of night, Seesa had found herself surrounded fellow druids. Their arms were raised high as if brushing fingers against a cloud-obscured moon. Dumbfounded, she just waited. This would all be over soon... "Seesa Pollock, at one with our circle, you must now choose! Think hard our child, upon that which is one with your very sense of self. A shared soul. A shared power. Now! I say one word, and you shall give me its name!" "Resilience!" Above the young druidess's head then floated a strange vision, a concept made truth, an outline formed of tiny lights like fireflies dancing, and in their trails was crafted a sketch of quite some lifelike accuracy. The image was of a large cockroach, feelers quivering, legs hurrying. "I name you, cockroach," she whispered. This caused quite a stir mid-ceremony, with Wooleye fighting very hard to force back laughter, and one or two other druids glaring at the girl with equal measures shock and judgement. "Well... I might say that Bear is the usual choice for that one, but each to their own. We shall continue." "Hunter!" This time, the shape of a crow came into view directly above Seesa's head. Glassy eyes peering, dark beak tearing apart a pastry of all things. Yes, a pastry just like Sheridan had shared with her not so very long ago. In Seesa's mind, it would have felt wrong to let a spirit animal feast on someone else's. What if a druid out there, somewhere, had a worm, or heaven forbid a mouse, as their spirit animal? Wooleye coughed. "That's an improvement... I guess... we move on. That which is chosen can not be undone. A sacred connection that can never be severed. The final totem, it be... Protection!" For some odd reason, most druids considered the Unicorn to be a totem of choice at this point. A creature so rarely seen, and probably on the critically endangered list. Poor choice for a spirit of protection, right? Alas, Seesa had never heard of such a wondrous magical animal as that. Instead, the fragments of light danced once again, their arcs and intersections bringing to life the shape of a... rat. A rat with a very large tummy. A pregnant one!

[Murdoch]

Sheridan Sheridan knows he should have some questions for Reese, but nothing comes to mind through the fog of a belly stuffed with fancy food and good wine, and the satisfaction of knowing he finally belongs to Ebonclad. It's something he didn't know he even wanted until very recently, but it feels like where his life was always meant to take him. When Reese leaves, Sheridan just relaxes until it's time to leave, basking in the type of luxury he knew in his old life until 1, when he is the last to leave. With a bounce in his step and a pouch full of money, Sheridan heads out on a shopping spree the following day. He has the beginnings of ideas for some new aliases and he needs to outfit each new personality accordingly. First, he needs to look like a well-to-do merchant, so he winds his way to the nicer part of town and finds a likely looking haberdashery. Once inside, he looks around the shop for just the right outfit, pulling out any number of items, holding them up to see how they will look, then making a tutt, tutt sound, before putting them back on the rack. This is as much about feeling the character in his mind as it is about finding the right clothes to wear. Finally, he has just the outfit he wants. A pair of knee high black leather boots, along with a pair of white trousers, which will be tucked into the boots when worn. A fine green shirt with gold trim around the neck and cuffs, and a new belt to go with it. A red and white doublet finishes off the outfit, at least until Sheridan manages to pair it with a cane hook, which he plans to get from the organization. Sheridan has the shop keeper wrap the new clothes up to make sure they stay clean and returns with them to his lowly hovel. Once there, he changes into the clothes and dons one of his nicer wigs. It's shoulder length brown hair that is designed to cover his ears so he will just look human. After that, he applies some makeup, a fake nose, and a small mole on his cheek. Full of confidence, Sheridan takes a walk and works on fleshing out his character. He gets a feel for how this nameless-for-now person walks, what their voice sounds like, and how they carry themselves. Without realizing it, he realizes his feet have taken him to his father's office. It seems that while he was thinking about his new personae, his sub-conscience was also trying to put him in a situation where he could encounter his father, which would be the ultimate of his disguise. Fortunately, his conscious mind took over and Sheridan left the area before he could see his father. Apparently, being accepted to Ebonclad has given him a false sense of confidence, because he knows that his character is not ready to stand up to the kind of scrutiny it would receive from meeting with his father. Rattles by what his unconscious mind tried to do to him, Sheridan returns home and takes off the disguise. Acting more like himself, he makes his way to a secure Ebonclad merchant and buys a few other things he thinks might come in handy for future jobs. Picking up a rope jacket and cane hook, which will pair nicely with his new doublet. He also buys a sturdy chest with a god lock so he has a place to store his new bounty. Finally, he heads home for the day, deciding to check in on Donna and Alonzo soon to see if they have uncovered any interesting information.

[Citizen Sam]

”Fade” Fade would not tarry too long. The magician was always careful to avoid excessive indulgence, especially when it came to food or drink. Fade wanted, no, needed to be in control of his senses and his appearance at all times. An insistence on self-discipline that he did not allow to slacken even now, as they were all flush with the glow of their first successful mission. He’d stay, of course, make himself a plate, have a drink, perhaps even share a joke or two…but he’d be among the first to retire for the evening. Fade had work to do, and needed to be sharp-eyed and sober to do it... Sound and Vision Conjuring phantoms, entrancing the senses, molding together colorful displays of naught but magic and light…these tended to be derided as cheap tricks by the more serious practitioners of the craft. Distractions to amuse children, or commit perfidy among the less ethical among their number. But even now as a mere novice, Fade knew better…or at least he did in his own lofty opinion of himself. The power to command the senses, to control what a person sees, hears, touches, and even thinks? How could conjuring mere fire or animating a sad collection of dusty old bones begin to compare? Of course such magics had their place in his arsenal, Fade is not fool enough to spurn any potentially useful tool… But at the end of the day the Mind commands the Body. Learn to control and influence the Mind…and everything else simply falls into place. Indeed, Sheridan himself had demonstrated the truism without so much as a puff of magic; defusing several tense situations during their mission using naught but a good story and a convincing disguise; simple words and appearances. And as Fabian…fast becoming better known as ‘Fade’ nowadays, was quick to discover the full benefits Ebonclad membership, he would would likewise quite quick to find and take advantage of what they had to offer; hidden stores of old tomes, stone tablets, and faded parchment scrolls. And as he did, he’d direct his studies more towards where he knew his future would lie; turning his craft towards the School of Illusion.