"Is there anywhere for me to train? And, where am I?"
Barkeep: "
You're in the City's slums, son. No instructors here, 'far as I recall. No guards, either. Want to practice fighting, go into the gang territory and fight. Can't guarantee you'll survive, though, they're mighty fierce around here."
A young man in a dirty robe and glasses comes in through the door, shaking with cold. He seems like he's about to introduce himself, but then looks at the room's unconscious residents and mutters a curse under his breath. He then approaches the counter and sits down next to you.
Bruce Grothinime: "
Hail, fellow adventurer! I am Bruce Grothinime, a humble adept of Fire. What do you say to embarking on a quest together?"
Vira cleared her throat, thinking about his proposal. Where to start...
On the one hand, she really didn't want to be drawn and quartered in the public square. That meant turning him down, or at least remaining more distanced from the whole affair, was wise.
On the other hand, she also didn't want to be turned into a malformed brute to be puppeted around by people who were going to be drawn and quartered in the public square, so that made turning him down rather unwise. She wasn't nearly confident enough in her abilities to risk taking them both on at once, which meant...
Vira smiled politely.
"Could you tell me more about this organization? And this spell, surely there's some downsides or risks involved? Is that thing there your partner or your pet?
Might I ask your name? I'm Vira."
The muscled creature harrumps and strokes its beard when you call it a 'thing', and answers your questions in its partner's place:
Brute: "
My name is Morul, young witch. I am the brains and the muscle behind all of our operations; Cohen, my apprentice, provides the face."
[Lore: 4] 'Morul'... it's a dwarven name. You've heard of dwarven wizards before, but you've never seen one yourself due to how reclusive they are. Dwarves were famous for their survivalist lifestyle, and their renegade mages have mastered the art of settling in places that would easily kill anyone else. From what you've gathered, the few dwarven renegades who have reached any success tend to live long enough to become very, very, dangerous.
Morul: "
All you need to know about our organization is this: we seek to unite all mages branded as 'renegades' into one tight-knit group, which would then work towards lifting the numerous restrictions on Soul and Flesh Magic. The spell is a two-part enchantment, requiring both Soul and Flesh magic to work properly, and has no known risks aside from the ordinary miscasts."
Suddenly, Morul's hand jerks to the side, as if zapped by a small lightning. He rushes to the wall, takes a brown robe and throws it upon himself; while wearing it, he almost looks like a normal hunchback instead of a horrendous crime against nature.
Morul: "
Cohen, someone's trying to burn down the mansion. I'll go give them a warm welcome; you stay here and keep an eye on our agents-in-training. We might have been discovered by someone big, so wrap it up with the witch and get ready for a fight."
With these words, Morul goes through the wall and disappears in the dark passage beyond.
[Cohen's Preparations: 6; 6; 6; 4] The goatee-wearing mage whom Morul called Cohen rubs his chin, then bars the room's door right behind you and casts some spell onto it. Grinning at his own ingenuity, he turns back to you and asks politely:
Cohen: "
No more questions, I hope? Then let's cut to the chase: are you in or out?"
The dwarves are a short, bearded people living in expansive subterrarean burrows. They seem to be a peaceful, if a bit reclusive, race, each and every one hopelessly addicted to alcohol and obsessed with clothing, but occasionally show unprecedented malice and sadism towards the traders and diplomats of other races.
Dwarves are well-known for their survivalist and militaristic tendencies: a dwarven outpost, unless it's been slaughtered by wildlife, sacked by goblins or torn apart by its own inhabitants, is often made into an impregnable fortress within the span of a few years. All dwarven creations, even toys and buildings, show their creator's intent to kill something with the end product.
"I'm just an Earth Mage! I woke up down here, I got drunk last night!" protest my innocence.
Nathair Siliar: "
I'm an Earth mage! I graduated yesterday, got drunk last night, and woke up down here! That's all I remem-mmph!"
[Bluff: 5] The adventurer seems inclined to believe your lie, seeing as you smell of both a distillery and a trash bin. He's almost about to let you go when a hand covers your mouth and the adventurer's companion - a mage - starts whispering to him.
[Listen: 1][Recognition: 4] You can't hear what they're whispering about, but you certainly recognize the mage's face: you saw him at the tavern last night, when you were still adequately sober. He, going by the name of Ardimis Maximus, was boasting about his pyromaniacal adventures in length and detail worthy of admiration.
This hangover is messing with my mind. Why would I know someone who is in the sewers?
Ardimis immediately puts his hand to the stranger's mouth before he can say more than a word.
He whispers:
"We're not going to hurt you, if you cooperate. Now, when I lift my hand you're going to repeat what you're going to say, nice and quiet"
He then turns to 'Burly' and whispers
"You said there was a mage. That looks like mage attire to me. How can we trust him?"
((If we cast a lv 0 spell at lv 1 or higher, is it still a free action?))
[Speed: 1] You fail utterly to silence the captive before he explained himself, but eventually you reach him and get him to shut up. [Recognition: 4] On a closer look, you are sure you know the guy. He's one of the recent Graduates; that is, he was an apprentice until yesterday. He couldn't have gotten involved with bad company unless his master allowed it.
Nevertheless, you have your suspicions. You address the Burly in a whisper:
Ardimis: "
You said there was a mage. These robes look like mage attire to me. How can we trust him?"
Burly: "
Just look at him! He's a hungover apprentice, not a criminal mastermind. We'll keep the boy at an arm's reach for now, but I seriously doubt he's one of the scum we're after."
Hmm. Well, he has a point: if the mage is one of the kidnappers, your group could always take him hostage and negotiate the girl's release. If he wasn't, there would be no reason not to take him along anyway.
[Lockpicking: 5] Something clicks in the door and Lanky says in a tired, detached voice:
Lanky: "
All done."
Bruce went into the pub and looked around for a group of adventures, if he findes a group he will say "Hail adventurers, I am but a humble fire mage, looking for adventure, and knowledege."
You walk into the pub, ready to embark on your adventure! Except there are no adventurers there. You see three unconscious bodies under the table, a slightly bloodied man wearing an eyepatch sitting at the counter, and a sleepy barkeep drinking something from his mug.
That's... not as illustrious as you expected, but you decide to try your luck anyways. [Introduction: 6; 3] You take a seat at the counter and introduce yourself boldly:
Bruce Grothinime: "
Hail, fellow adventurer! I am Bruce Grothinime, a humble adept of Fire. What do you say to embarking on a quest together?"
You're... not exactly sure what quest you're talking about. At least it
sounded good.
NOTE 1: Geez, I need to write faster than that. And
much less sloppily than that. And overall be less sick when I'm needed so sourly - which is, alas, not an option right now.
NOTE 2: I still keep to my opinion that bumping is beneficial for the GM as well as the players. Dwarmin's recent bump was the only reason I even let myself release this turn with such sloppy writing.
NOTE 3: This was written under the influence of flu. Or, well, some other contagious disease that makes you cough-y, sniff-y, ach-y and slightly delirious and cannot be cured through sheer will. The writing is terrible, I know. The notes are rambling, too. Can't fix it, though.
NOTE 4: I did not forget Derm's and Dwarmin's actions: this is an intermediary turn responding to the 'examine' queries and talking. I know, I'm a terrible person; however, writing even this much took a lot of time, and I can't bring myself to postpone responding to the bump any longer.