[Game Thread] Interludes and Conversations

[Rolzup]

"I hear that some folk are moved by Piety," Thomas suggests, "Never touch the stuff myself." Collecting the dice, he juggles them in one hand for a moment, before raising them to his shoulder so that Jasper can blow upon them.

Dice Poppa's monkey needs a new pair of shoes! Wait, no, he doesn't wear shoes.:

3d6	6, 5, 1			Total = 12
3d6	4, 6, 1			Total = 11
3d6	2, 5, 1			Total = 8

Scowling, he waggles a finger at the dice. "I do not approve, gentlemen! You need to do much better than that."

[Melchior]

"I think you've gotten your mind full of too many plays and stories, lad," Radcliffe remarks with a smirk, scooping up his winnings, leaving one golden coin behind to serve as his payment for the next round.

"If you're expecting a dark and troubled past with some poignant narrative about redemption spurred on by a great life-changing catalyst where I found the light of Saranae, I'm afraid I have no such story to tell. Oh there are such stories amongst the faithful, you can be certain. I could tell you a dozen different stories of men and women you lost themselves in vice and crime who now serve the gods as faithfully as any other. Or stories of those who always knew in their heart of hearts that a life in service to the gods was the life they desired. On another night, I might have given you one and claimed it to be my own, but I confess that I find myself enjoying your company and I see no reason to muddy the situation with lies that serve no purpose."

Radcliffe shakes his head with a shrug of his shoulders. What he told Vigg was the truth, or close enough anyways. Fact was it had been over twenty years since the day he had taken the cloth and time has a funny habit of blurring one's perceptions of the past. Scooping up the dice, he rattled them as he went on, "I was raised by the church, and when I was old enough I took the service because it seemed then as good an option as any other, and better than most. Terribly boring story, I know. It's been so long that I don't even remember myself whether I had any other reason than that. Could due with some spicing up, but that's the heart of it."

"Not everyone has some grand, life-changing event to kick them in the rump and force them down the path they follow. Some simply follow life's currents, seeing where it takes them. I'm of the latter. What about you?" He eyes his companions for the evening, directing the question to the both of them. "What set you down the life you live? "

Dice Cee-lo:

3d6	4, 2, 1			Total = 7
3d6	4, 3, 4			Total = 11
3d6	1, 2, 4			Total = 7

He tosses the dice, initiating the next round while he waits to see what his companions have to say. "Hmm... A three pointer for me, then."

[ItsaVerb]

Vigg was entirely compelled with the priest's story, unremarkable though the man thought it to be. A smirk crossed the young bard's lips, and he raised an eyebrow when he was asked what set him down his path.

It was getting to be quite a long story, and one he hadn't shared with anyone except Brom.

"You could say I was desperate for a change of pace, Padre. I'd been primarily an academic, also studying theater and performing comedy on the side. There's so much wonder in the world, I thought I'd get out and see some of it before I start getting any insane notions about settling down with a woman, for instance" Vigg said with a wink.

"Speaking of women..." he added, again looking at the top of his wrist as though there was something there to see--most curious. "If I delay too much longer, I miss miss the opportunity to enjoy the company of the lovely Ms. Cedarsong!

Dice Cee-lo Dice:

3D6	5, 3, 6			Total = 14
3D6	5, 4, 3			Total = 12
3D6	6, 3, 1			Total = 10

Let's see if I can't beat that three..."

"Drat!" The word implied disappointment, but there was a twinkle in this young man's eye that hinted at anything, and everything but.

[Rolzup]

Thomas shakes his head. "If it's wonder that you're after, a woman's where you'll find it, old boy. Nothing stranger, nothing more puzzling, nothing more dangerous. The stories I could tell you about my Aunt Tulip, for one."

He shudders, and Jasper sympathetically pats him on the head. "On second thought, I'll spare you. I've nightmares enough for all of us. That woman can melt steel with her glare, and if you've actually angered her? The sound of her voice is not entirely unlike the sensation of being boiled in acid. Not that I've ever been boiled in acid, of course, but one is capable of extrapolation."

He seizes the dice with a desperate air, and rolls....

And then sags. "She knows I'm gambling," Thomas says to the ceiling. "The only answer. Aunt Tulip Doesn't Approve of gambling, you see. And I'm not saying that she's a witch, per se...but nor am I saying she isn't."

Dice It Ain't Gambling When You're This Good:

3d6	1, 3, 5			Total = 9
3d6	3, 2, 1			Total = 6
3d6	1, 4, 1			Total = 6

[Melchior]

Radcliffe grinned wryly as the dice once again roll in his favor. It seemed luck was on his side this night. Pulling his winnings towards the small pile that was already growing in front of him, Radcliffe scoops the dice up into the cup again, reveling in the welcoming rattle they created.

"Wandering the world for women and wonders, lad?" Radcliffe echoes with a laughing lilt in his voice. "I can sympathize. I did some travelling of my own when I was your age, for much the same reasons. Found me plenty of both, before I choose to settle down and rest. Been near ten years since I came to The City. Absalom is a grand city, grandest in the world probably, but ten years is a long time to stay in one place; I've had my break, and sometimes I find myself thinking of all that which I've yet to see. Perhaps it's time to pick up my roots and strike out again to see where the currents take me." He sighs, somewhat morosely, "But travelling and adventuring is a young man's game. And I haven't been a young man in a long time..."

The air of melancholy is gone almost as soon as it had arrived. Radcliffe shakes his head and barks a self-depreciating laugh. "Ah, but you don't want to listen to an old man pining for his lost youth!" Radcliffe seized his tankard and took a long swig before brusquely moving on before either of the others could comment. He had no idea why he was telling these men so much that he normally would not anybody, much less a pair of total strangers. It must have been the ale loosening his tongue. Old Tam must have gotten his grubby hands on stronger stuff than usual, or forgotten to water it down as much as he usually did.

"You wanted stories to help you with your play. Alright. Let me tell you about the time I met the Pirate King of the Varisian Gulf."

Radcliffe shook the dice and started the next round of the game, while he began the story. "So, there I was stranded in Riddleport..."

~~~Some time, many stories and a good deal of ale later~~~

"And that... *weeze* And that's when I bought the horse a prostitute!" Radcliffe manages to finish in between raucous bouts of laughter that left him breathless. His face was nearly cherry red, though whether that flush came from laughing or the alchohol remained unknown. He pounded on the table with one clenched fist, rattling the collection of empty tankards and bottles that had grown up to cover the table as the night had worn on.

After a few rounds of dice and ale, the unspoken rules of the game had changed to be that the players were obligated to use their winnings to cover the next round of drinks, and though Radcliffe found himself on the hook of paying for the booze more often than not, somehow he didn't mind so much. They had started off drinking ale, but as time passed and stories unfolded Radcliffe had begun ordering progressively more potent beverages, and forcing the others to partake in them with him. The old priest had been tenacious in pushing the drink upon his young companions, and wouldn't take no for an answer. By the end of the night, none of them remained sober - except, of course, for the ever level-headed Jasper Poundsworthy.

Radcliffe's laughter finally died down, and he reached up to wipe the tears away that had accumulated in his eyes from laughing so hard. Blinking, he looked around the rest of the tavern, seemingly noticing for the first time just how empty it had grown. Only a few final patrons remained awake, most of the sailors and dock-workers having retired for the night some time ago - or simply having fallen asleep at their tables. "Heh. Ah, well... I suppose it is that time again. I have business in the morning." He pushed his chair away from the table and rose to his feet, and nearly fell over again right away before grabbing the table to steady himself. "I'm alright," he declares hastily, though his wobbling knees might have subverted his claim.

"Well lads, thank you for the game and the company. Good luck with whatever it is you do and may the Dawnflower... uh... bless you, or some such."

Radcliffe reached up to tip his hat towards his companions - despite the fact that he was wearing no hat - and with that staggered out of the bar and into the night, or very early morning depending on how you counted such things. Ultimately he didn't make it very far before stumbling into a alleyway where he slumped against a wall and slowly slid to the ground. Then decided that theis was indeed a very comfortably state of affairs, he settled in to sleep.

And that was how the sun found him, when it rose the next morning.

[Rolzup]

*******

"Bombast," he says, bowing low as he takes her hand, "Thomas Bombast. It is my genuine pleasure, madam! This fellow here is my manservant...monkeyservant, actually!...Jasper Poundworthy, and of course you know Scant Firelocks. He's...ah..." Thomas gesture vaguely, "A hero, an adventurer and all that sort of thing."

Thomas takes a quick drink, and sets his tankard down just a little too forcefully. He grimaces at ale splashes the table. "Dreadfully sorry," he cries, as Poundworthy busies himself with mopping up the spill, "Really, I'm a terrible menace to polite society! Without the services of Poundworthy, I'd be naught but a pariah!'

Looking at Kyra, Thomas gives her a sigh and a shrug. "It's been a deucedly strange day," he admits. "All hurly-burly and bustling about, drinking decidedly unpleasant liquor, and a rather larger umber of angry mobs than I am entirely used to dealing with. And you, my dear lady, seem rather close to the center of it all. Perhaps you can make a bit of sense of it for me?" There's an air in genuine pleading in his tone as he ticks off his questions on his fingers, one by one.

"Do you know where we might find Vigg Nosam? He's not the secret ingredient in your Hibiscus Mead, is he? Although that would account for the taste... But never mind that, for now: was he, perhaps, inside the jail? Might be the safest place for the poor fellow, under the circumstances, but that does raise the question of what you were doing in the jail, and I would be remiss if I did not mention that Scant here finds you rather attractive. Not that I don't," Thomas adds hastily, "But I muse confess to some preoccupation at the moment."

[ItsaVerb]

Kyra spoke not a word as Thomas Bombast introduced himself and eventually asked a number of questions of the young monk from Qadira. The lovely eighteen year-old, royalty in her land, was well-versed in etiquette, and capitulated politely in gesture.

If Thomas had ever met Khair, he might have recognized the most prominent similarity in appearance Kyra shared with her brother, their smile. Sincere, dazzling, and full of mischief. In spite of the gravity of the situation that weighed heavy and threatened to overwhelm Kyra's focus, she was amused and even comforted by the genuine introduction to Thomas and his good monkey Poundworthy.

What Master Bombast didn't yet know about Kyra Viru was that she wasted little time in conversation, and she didn't squander precious breath on pretense, or compromise her own dignity by being distrustful.

What the handsome gentleman didn't know about Kyra, he would learn quite clearly in the next few moments, that she would either answer every question he asked with absolute honesty, or she would say nothing at all.

"He's my brother, and indeed he is in the jail, there, under the watch of Lady Finch's Token Guard." Kyra paused a moment, only to ensure that Bombast was paying attention. She meant to answer each of his questions succinctly, clearly, and quietly. Her words were meant for the ears of Thomas and Scant, and she kept a keen awareness for eavesdroppers.

"I arrived in Absalom yesterday. I came looking for my brother, the one known as Vigg Nosam, and I found him today. He's got nothing to do with the magic or the throne. He's being used as a sort of... puppet...

I'm a stranger here. Aside from yourself, Thomas, I've met Scant here, Jessie, " she said with a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the red-haired server she couldn't see, but knew was there by the sound of her voice, "Lady Finch, the Token Guard Captain and owner of this tavern, a Lord Muar Gauthfollow, the Chief Intelligence Officer of your Primarch, Lord Gixx, and some fellow monks at the monastery.

Khair, my brother... 'Vigg', did some treasure hunting with his friend, a ranger named Brom Thistleborn, Scant, and some others.

The rest of them went back there today, he thinks, and might have found a magical artifact, a black orb called the Raven's Eye. What my brother told me is that he found a sword in the tower, yesterday, and that sword is now at the Church of Iomeae, he called it the Sword of the Black Butcher, and the Raven's Eye is the sword's source of power. The High Cleric there said that Eye has to be destroyed.

That's what I was doing in the jail, Master Bombast. Being reunited with my brother after more than two years, and learning exactly what I told you.

Now, if I may ask for your trust, and your honesty, same as I've granted to you, I presume you are from Absalom? My first concern is for the safety my brother, Sir, but I also feel quite responsible, now that I know what I know, and given his connection to it, to keep that awful magic from hurting anyone else.

I saw that man die... this horrible game will bring out the darkest in every person in the city, and something tells me an evil influence wishes it so.

Lord Gauthfollow told me of "The Varlokkur", an Arcane Court that governs the use of magic in Absalom. It appears to be Gauthfollow's belief that this court could be compromised, or in some way complicit in this horrible deed involving the throne. He told me such magic is forbidden here, and that the Valokkur should be doing something to stop it. He also asked my brother, and his companion, a Miribelle Cedarsong, what they knew of the Azlanti Keep. Khair was unfamiliar, but Gauthfollow's interest was keen on the subject. Are you familiar with this district of Absalom, or the Varlokkur?

Is there any way you would help me, Thomas Bombast?" Kyra's expression was serene, and open, and her eyes penetrated those of her new acquaintance, seeking his honesty, or at least his notion of it.

[Rolzup]

Thomas, nonplussed, blinks by way of reply. Raises a finger, starts to speak, pauses, starts to speak again, pauses once more, and then clears his throat.

"I would," he concludes, "Be honored and delighted. Both simultaneously, even!" Thomas leans forward, eyes fixed upon Kyra's. "I've always felt there was a hero in me, waiting for the proper occasion upon which to burst forth. At last, that occasion is upon us!"

After slamming one fist down upon the table, and wincing only a little at so doing, Thomas adopts a stern, yet heroic, expression. "What sort of fellow could refuse a damsel in distress? Not Thomas Bombast, no indeed! I will aid you however I can, dear lady! You have my word upon it!"

Jasper, after a moment of silence, begins to quietly applaud.

[ItsaVerb]

After a concise if uncharacteristically verbose plea for help to the handsome human, Kyra listened intently to the man's response, her piercing gaze locked on his. As he spoke, the lovely young Keleshite's brow crinkled, and she tapped a finger on the tabletop as she pondered her reply.

Damsel in distress... Center, Kyra.

"I'm glad to hear you are willing, Mister Bombast, and at the risk of making a hero out of you, I'm happy to accept your offer to help," Kyra said with a faint sardonic smirk, hoping the gentleman would consider the whole of her story and perhaps reckon the possibility that aside from the opportunity to prove his worth in some gallant context, all of Absalom could be in grave danger.

Turning then to the halfling, who had lowered his profile significantly by keeping his pants on inside the tavern, Kyra asked very quietly "You were with Brom today, yes? At the tower? Did you happen upon the artifact I told you about?"

[Rolzup]

Thomas, blind to Kyra's expression, beams back at her. "A hero," he murmurs, "Imagine! Aunt Tulip will be beside herself!"

His smile falters. "I hate it when she does that," he admits, "One Aunt Tulip is significantly more than enough."

[ItsaVerb]

Kyra was in no way unfamiliar with the expression on the face of the suave would-be hero--the way his eyes lingered, and appeared to lose focus when he looked at hers. In years past, the Keleshite had been bothered by her own appearance, often to the chagrin of female acquaintances who would chide her about the way she chose to dress down, preferring not to draw attention to herself. Most of those young ladies would shake their heads, stupefied as to why Kyra wouldn't want to flaunt her beauty, as they certainly would, were they lucky enough to be blessed with looks like hers.

As a girl, she had become quite convinced people wouldn't treat her fairly, even it that meant treating her exceptionally well, due to her appearance, if not her noble station. She eventually realized these presumptions were obstacles to honesty, and through her meditation and practices, Kyra learned to become more comfortable with herself in that way--allowing herself to be more open with others, to take them at their word and to trust them.

She no longer hid herself as she'd done years before, but what the devout monk would not do would be to exploit feminine wiles to influence or manipulate others.

Kyra warned herself against making hasty assessments about strangers. Assessments are never innocent. Nonetheless, by his familiar behaviors it seemed Master Bombast was a bit of a lady's man, and it was something she would keep in mind. She wan't about to start kidding herself she was any more 'above' those sorts of impulses than any other healthy eighteen year-old woman, and indeed she found the stranger from Absalom extremely attractive, but she minded her own eyes that she wouldn't betray her truth by letting them linger too long, either.

Maintaining the volume required to keep the conversation more or less private, Kyra spoke to the halfling Scant Firelocks. "Scant, will you keep watch near the jail? You know how to keep a... um, low profile, right? I want to travel to the Irorium, but I don't want to miss the opportunity to intercept Brom Thistleborn. Khair... Vigg, your friend, needs our help. I don't plan to be gone long, but I'll tell you, and you can let Brom know, should you meet him, I'll be taking the main thoroughfares to and from the arena in the Foriegn Quarter should he want to find me. Will you do that?"

Turning then to Thomas, Kyra said "I presume you have a carriage, Master Bombast? A man-about-town such as yourself doesn't make his dates walk all over the city, does he? I don't want to waste time walking. If you haven't got one, would you mind summoning a hansom and chaperoning me on my visit to the Irorium?" Parts of her comment might have sounded sarcastic to a casual listener. Those who knew Kyra, though, understood she simply wasn't the sort to mince words, or go too far out of her way to round off the edges of her comments, being frank, if not occasionally coming off curt.

"Perhaps along the way, you could answer my questions." Kyra couldn't conceal the spontaneous smirk that played at the edges of her lips, in this instance absolutely meaning to tease the stranger.

[Rolzup]

"Questions and answers? Of a surety! But a carriage, yes, of course. I did have one, naturally enough, but, well, there was an incident, and...." Thomas clears his throat, "The long and the short of it is that magistrates have no sense of humor, particularly regarding their daughters. Summoning a hansom, though, I believe that I'm still able to to do that much. And if not," he shrugs, "They can only hang me once, eh? Besides, I'm fairly sure the fellow was only joking."

Poundworthy chitters something, and Thomas sighs. "Well, no, perhaps not. One doesn't generally grit one's teeth like that when making a jape. But never mind that, old boy!"

Thomas rises gracefully, flips a coin onto the table, scrambles to catch the coin before it hits the ground, fails, dusts it off, and places it firmly upon the table's surface.

Striding to the street, confident that Scant and Kyra are following, Thomas raises a hand and makes a grandiose gesture. A Dancing Lightsluminescent figure condenses out of the air, and begins to wildly gesticulate.

"Never fails to attract attention," Thomas says smugly.

[ItsaVerb]

This man Thomas Bombast was a curiosity for a number of reasons, including his ability to converse with the monkey, and there were probably at least as many reasons Kyra might have been more cautious about sharing information with him, or agreeing to his escort to the Foreign Quarter, but it was a new chapter in Kyra's story, and she was committed to her principles. To risk an undesirable outcome by first granting trust is still better than welcoming dishonesty by granting none. Bombast seemed for the most part a gentleman, and if he unfortunately proved himself otherwise, Kyra was able to look out for herself. There was a sailor likely still in the area of Absalom who could attest to that.

 

Originally Posted by ItsaVerb

The young Keleshite strode through the door of the Laughing Rogue to find the place full of robust celebration. The first person who caught his eye was a stocky human sailor at one of the tables nearest the door. The poor guy looked like he'd been on the short end of a bad bar-fight, his nose was broken, both eyes were black and swollen, and the hand that held his mug had a few fingers splinted together with gauze. He was regaling the other dogs at the table with a story.

"Aye, she was tall, mates. Lanky. But the lass had the face of a mermaid I swear to ye! Strange one, too... monk or something. She had one of those curvy desert swords and wore sandals. Arrrgh! But she talked too much! That's it! I'd have had that handful, but the bird wouldn't shut up!!"

The presumed resident of Absalom, quite frankly, reminded Kyra of her brother. The notion had struck her quite quickly, and cemented itself when he mused about magistrates and their daughters. While the thought might have been disconcerting to some, to her, knowing Khair--the type of person he really was--something made sense about it, and Kyra was okay with the fact that she already liked Thomas.

Hmmm... Magic, the raven-haired monk thought as she watched the dazzling display evoked by the waving fingers of the dapper fellow. Along with her brother and both sisters, Kyra had been taught a bit of everything growing up. The most generous thing their father did for them was to provide access to such a wonderful education. The girls all found their areas of focus, none of them taking much to magic. Khair had a knack for picking up a little bit of everything, but expert in very little. Still, among his siblings, he was the most comfortable with spell-casting, and enjoyed having minor illusions in his repertoire of parlor tricks.

If her memory served, Kyra recalled there being hard limits to the number of spells a mage could prepare in a certain length of time. Hailing a carriage didn't seem to her to be the most prudent use of a limited resource, not I might have gone all Lauren Bacall here, but that would be quite a bit out of character for Kyra. haha!!when one could simply whistle. Perhaps he knew how hard it was to find a driver in this part of the city, or perhaps he was just showing off. Despite her focus, Kyra felt her cheeks turn warm at the idea of the handsome stranger trying to impress her.

While they waited, the visitor from Katheer referenced the conversation started inside the Saucy Wench. "The Varlokkur, Master Bombast. The Arcane Court of Absalom. Do you know anything about it?"