The threats to our city and our world are as insidious as they are diverse. Pirates, terrorists, monsters, fiends, anarchists and zealots are only of the dangers that Sharn must contend with in the wake of the Last War. Crime is on the rise, and more and more, the everyday watchman cannot contend with it, nor can we ask The King’s Citadel for any more aid than they already give. For this reason, a new, elite division of the Watch has been formed. You are part of that elite group.
Welcome to the Green Tower.
We have begun with three small cells in this division. You will report to your handler, Gerald ir’Tosk, at 1000 hours in The Sphere of Haerth's Folly. This will give you the time to get acquainted with your teammates before being given your first case. Gerald will have the details when you are ready. We turn now to you to crack our toughest cases.
I commend you. Good luck.
Lord Commander Iyan ir’Talan
Today is an auspicious day in Sharn. While rain is common, sunshowers are not, and the feeling of the warm, light rain combined with the bright sun can't help but make you optimistic, even though you know the feeling isn't likely to last.
Appropriately enough, you are headed to The Sphere, the first planer building that Hareth ir'Talan built in the district, and one of the few buildings that gets direct sunlight almost all day, despite being suspended between Amir Tower, Joslin Tower and the massive Shon Tower. The building itself is appropriately named, being an almost perfect orb of very light blue crystal, in the style of Syrania. It also happens to be one of the most sought after dinning locations in the Dura.
As you enter the orb, you see that the light of the day has been refracted and reflected dozens of times, casting everchanging rainbows and brilliant swaths of light everywhere. Once you inform the staff that you are here to see Gerald, they lead you to a private room that is located close to the perimeter of the sphere. Immediately, you notice that the walls here are thin enough that you can see out into the city, and some natural light is allowed in before the crystal works its magic, be it figurative or literal.
Already waiting inside the room are a female shifter, a dwarf and a half-orc, sitting around a round table. A variety of bright fruits and cheeses from Karrnath, Thrane and Breland sit on a small platter in the middle of the table. As you enter, the dwarf rises and shakes your hands.
"Welcome. I am Gerald ir'Tosk, I'll be your teams liaison to the rest of the Watch. These are my associates, Sunshadow, a behavioral profiler, and Dr. Gash Mak'ow, who is an expert on planer magics. Both will be working closely with me to help you crack the cases that no one else can. Now I believe Lady Kemble has done of the great favor of finding you a decent tower you can use as a home base, so if you have any questions for her or me, or if you need a few moments to get acquainted, now would be the time before we jump into the thick of things."
Everyone post your character sheets please. Once they are all up, feel free to post away.
Ranger Weapon and Armor Proficiency: Rangers are proficient with all simple and martial weapons, as well as light armor and shields (except tower shield).
Favored Enemy (Ex): Humanoid (human): +2 bonus on Bluff, Listen, Sense Motive, Spot and Survival checks when using these skills against creatures of this type. They also get a +2 bonus on bonus on weapon damage rolls against such creatures.
Wild Empathy (Ex): [1d20 + 1 Cha + 4 Rgr] A ranger can use body language, volcalizations and demeanor to improve the attitude of an animal. This ability functions just like a Diplomacy check to improve the attitude of a person.
Combat Style (Ex): Two-Weapon Combat
Animal Comanion (Ex): Fen II, Mastiff Fens StatsShow
Dog, Riding (Trained for war) Medium Animal HD: 2d8 + 4 (13 hp) Initiative: +2 Speed: 40 ft. (8 squares) AC: 16 (+2 Dex, +4 natural) Saves: Fort +5, Ref +5, Will +1 Touch 12, Flat-footed 14 BAB: +1, GRP +3
Attack: Bite +3 melee (1d6 + 3)
Special Attacks: Trip (Ex): A Riding Dog trained for war that hits with a bite attack can attempt to trip the opponent (+2 chech modifier) as a free action without making a touch attack or provoking an attack of opportunity. If the attemp fails, the opponent cannot react to trip the dog.
Special Qualities: Low-light vision, scent Abilities: Str 15, Dex 15, Con 15, Int 2, Wis 12, Cha 6 Skills: Jump +8, Listen +5, Spot +5, Swim +3, Survival +1* *Riding dogs have a +4 racial bonus on Survival checks when tracking by scent. Feats: Alertness, Track
Tricks: Track: Thre animal tracks the scent presented to it.
-- Link (Ex): A ranger can handle their animal companion as a free action or pust it as a move action, even if they don`t have any ranks in the Handle Animal skill. The ranger gains a +4 circumstance bonus on all wild empathy checks and Handle Animal checks made regarding an animal companion.
-- Share Spells (Ex): At the rangers option, they may have any spell they cast upon themselves also affect their animal companion. Spells Per Day (CL 4): 1 1st: Longstrider
Standing about 6' Thane is a man who dresses to blend in with a crowd. But when the hood of his cloak is down a face that has seen much stares back at you. Long black hair, usually tied back shows the stress of life with the first few hints of grey streaked through it. Piercing eyes of a stormy greyish blue hue look upon the world. His hands show a mutitude of small scars from what looks to be animal bites and blade like cuts. Several scars criss cross his face, one starts from a nick in his right ear follows just above his jawline and ends about an inch from his chin. A crossing scar stars just under his right eye and cuts into his neck. The last starts again just under the right eye and crosses over his nose to end just under his left eye .
Standard dress for Thane is a matted grey cloak or over vest with hood, over his darkleaf chainmail armor. Black matted pants and boots finish off the gear. With a bola hanging off the back of his belt, two of his shortswords on one side and his scimatar on the other. With his belt pouch with his nessesaties out of the way.
Born Thane Delento, of military family from Breland. Thane's father was a promident Captain of the Guard with the diplomats. His mother happened to die during birth. When he was 11 years old his father was to be sent on a long term diplomatic mission into Karrnath, he requested that his son be brought along since no family was available to watch him. That journey changed his path in life. From a 11 year old thinking to be the warrior like his father to the scared little boy lost in the wild plains of the Talenta Plains.
It was during the journey a rogue band of Karn's attack the caravan, during which Thane's father was wounded and didn't notice that his boy was not among the fleeing caravan. Thane lost and confused wandered the plains running from any sound that sounded scary to his little mind. It was 3 day before the halfling outriders from the Kor'Danith Kree tribe. The tribe he would learn was named that they meant Shadow Hunters of the Plain, named so that they tended to hunt the criminals, exiles and enemies of the tribes. They were inpressed by him, they had watched him for the last 3 days watching how he naturally seemed to pick up basic survival skills and hunting of the small game in the area. They made sure to keep the larger predators at bay while the shamans decided on what to do with the boy. They decided to give the boy a chance, the boy knew enough about where he was from that they knew they themselves couldn't risk the journey to take him somewhere safe and any other faction in the war might not take him in. So Thane had a choice, survive the challenge set before him or take his chances with the nearest outpost.
The test would scar him for life but would earn him a place in the tribe. He was to hunt a small band of fastith, if he could capture one they would accept him into the tribe, teaching them thier ways and raising him untill he was old enough to return home on his own. Now this was a minor test, they where giving the illusion that this was a life or death trial, yet what they had him hunting was one of the passive riding animals that dotted the plain. They gave him some rope, a weeks worth of food and a knife saying that anything else he would have to make on his own in the wild. Thane with a full stomach some warmer clothes and a small pack was sent on his trial only a few days after recovering from his ordeal.
The young Thane set out on his journey....
The hunt started out like the worst day of his life, a rain storm had set in so while tracks should be easy to follow when the storm let up, Thane had to travel stoaking wet, alone and allowed to dwell on whats been happening, his fear found him so that all he ended up doing was finding a somewhat out of the rain location. Where he spent the better part of three day crying. The following days exhausted from the crying, were some of the worst of his childhood. It took him another 2 days to track down the fastieth. With only 2 days remaining he set about trying everything his youngmind could think of, traps, rushing and jumping them, everything but nothing worked. He was in the process of setting another trap when something truely unexpected happened. While he was tracking the fastieth, he wasn't the only thing tracking them. Unbenouced to Thane, he had picked up a stalker of his own, a clawfoot and it had finally found an easier food source then the fastieth.
From the clawfoots point of view...
The clawfoot slowly stalked toward this strange two-legged creature, the smell of fresh blood was strong around this creature and it could see the cuts and bites from other creatures on two of its appendages. It seemed to be burrowing or playing with a vine on the ground. The scent of blood got stronger as approached, a bloodlust was starting to creep upon it, a few more steps then it would punch on its exposed back, sinking its talons into its back and biting into its neck.
Crack! Something snaps under it and it knows it must strike as the creature is reacting to the sound. Rushing forward a screech escapes its open mouth and in the past couple feet it jumps.....
Back to Thane
Thane turning at the sound starts looking for the source, afraid that something or someone is trying to hurt him. Reaching around for the knife he was given he hears something rush toward him. A loud screech allows him to find the creature that seems to be attacking him, it seems to be a creature much like the fastieth but with sharper teeth and talons on its claws, before he can react the creature is on him. "Ahhhh!" rips from his throat as the creature talons scrape along his jaw. Still reaching for something at this point Thane tried to fend off and protect himself with his other hand. The creature bites at him biting into his forarm, while his forclaws dig into his face. More thrashing and tumbling finally allow Thane to find his grip on his pack and using all his strength, bashes his bag into the creatures head. Stunned it realeases its bite on Thane's arm. Thane's too stunned to do much but stagger around, before collapsing near the spot he was working.
Several hours later...
Thane wakes from unconcisnous while one of the tribal hunters is treating his wounds. "Whats going on?" he mumbles, noticing that he cannot see out of one of his eyes, reaching up he finds bandages covering most of his face.
The hunter looks up from his work on Thane's arm, "We've find ya like this boy, we want you to speak what happened here." He wave his arm about the clearing and Thane notices for the first time the other hunters.
Thane tells the hunter whats been happening and they all seem to look serious for a moment before smiles break out, and helping the boy to his feet, walk him over to the pit that was now exposed. "Wait, where is the...." he never finishes that sentence for as he finally get close enough to see down into the pit, he see the creature that attacked him at the bottom, neck broken. Thane to stun to know whats going on, doesn't last long with this additional shock soon passes out again.
The days from then fly for the boy, accepted into the tribe the boy spends the next 8 years learning the skills of a hunter of the tribe. Learning everything they throw at him, but always remembering that his life is somewhere else. Its a sad day for Thane when he decides to leave the tribe but the tribe was kind enought to move as close to the western boarder as they dared and with a final farewell party they went in seperate directions.
Over the next few days Thane kept to himself thinking about what must be done, who was left in his life, yet while an uncle's name danced in his head. He wasnted to find out about his father, there was only two likely spots to do that. Head to Karrnath and take his chances as a Breland spy or head home. The feeling was to head home, it was time.
The following weeks where hard ones on Thane, trying to avoid scouting parties, field units and even a few hunting parties looking for deserters. It was one such hunting party that caught up with Thane a few weeks from the first spot Thane was expecting to find a few answers or at least a name of someone to help somemore. He was camped out for the night in a hollow a few yards into a wooded area and out of site, when he heard the first dogs.
Crap, must be some of the hunters in the area. The thoughts came fast and with a quick prayer to the gods of the hunt, stags his pack and runs deeper into the woods.
"Here's the camp, they must be around here somewhere. Let the dogs sniff them out!" yells one of the hunters.
Glancing back Thane notices 3 hunters in the light of the fire before a dip in the forest floor causes him to loose sight of them. Too much of a problem, I'll move on after losing....
The hunting gods must feel he needs to be challenged at that moment one of the two dogs he heard pounces him, tripping him up, before racing around to plant itself on his chest.
"Ok boy, calm down." Thane speaks calmly not wanting the dog to start barking bring the other one and the hunters with it. The next few minuets seem like hours before with careful steady talking, the woodland skills the tribal hunters to taught him to have animals listen, to befriend them took over. It was a slow process before he was able to get the animal to back down from his chest. "That's a good boy, now I'm gonna offer you a choice my friend. Stay with them where they seem to abuse you and barely feed you or you can come with me, in which case you can stay with me or fend for your self but for now I need to leave this place." Picking up his dropped pack, Thane slowly moves off, looking back he sees the dog looking at him before looking back, after a moment it follows Thane. Now the next few weeks sees the dog slowly learning to trust Thane, food that Thane freely offers is at first ignored before hunger sets in, but soon is being eaten when its first offered. Thane does nothing but talk to the dog, telling about his life. Slowly the dog goes from what it considers a safe distance to walking beside him, allowing Thane to pet him regularly. The bonds of frendship have formed. It would be days before he made it to the first Brelish outpost that he would finally name the dog Fen.
The following are the event as described in the personal journal of the late Robert Thane Delento.
The date is ...... and it seems my life has purpose again. This morning I was greeting by someone I thought lost to the world, Thane, my son has been returned to me. For the last eight years I have fought the nightmares that left me haunted by the feeling that I have let down my family, especially my late wife Trisha.
My son surprised this old warrior by attending this year's intake of recruits for the Breland army. I'm proud and yet scared for him cause while I'm past the point where I am little more then a drill sergeant, I see the ones that make it home from this bloody war. The boy I would later discover my son show up to the field with little more than a pack with gear, a strange wooden mask and a large mastiff he called Fen. The master at arms and the boy had a long talk and thinking back on it now I remember that he looked over at me several times. He must of wondered from that point, most of the soldiers know the story how I lost my son and my shield arm.
The training started off no different from any other of the new recruits, the ones from military families stood out, the thieves on the run stood out and my son stood out, yet all three stand out in there own way. The military boys are brutal in their battle skill, the thieves quick and always on the move yet my son stood out among that, within moments of seeing what basic fighting skills these recruits had, he had made himself an outcast by either disabling or disarming his opponent. This brought out the over confident fighters, they saw him as a goal to be beaten. It was apparent that while he was proficient with the scimitar at his hip, he was no master of the blade. The next few opponents made for an interesting display, several times he reaches for the bolas on his belt but with a quick look to me or the other soldiers he changes his mind, going on the defense as if he was lost or moving around the ring looking for better ground.
It wasn't till he tripped up one of the noble boys here that I finally realized why he was having trouble. The noble feeling embarrassed offered to pay a sum of 20 galifars to the person who thrashed my son, now by this time my commanding officer had come along and at the sound of a challenge immediately held back the soldiers, the man thought to earn some galifars himself running a betting pool. The fool, to think the kings own would let him keep his position after that display, if one of the others won't step in I will. Its time he realized that some of the enemy spies are gaining entry into the camps because of training facilities like this one.
But I regress, with nothing to do but watch and pray they don't kill the boy. I watch a boy that seemed to have trouble in a one on one fight spring into action. He must have known the rules had changed with it becoming one of survival instead of one of training. The boy starting by finally using the bolas at his hip, drawing he scimitar in one hand while a bolas in the other, he started taking out the bigger lads, tangling them up and then giving them a good knock to the head. Soon 3 of the bigger lad were down and the others where leery of approaching. That's when with a quick whistle and a returning bark Fen comes into the fray. Now here the fight started with seven or eight to one and now it was down 3 to bolas leaving the remainder to deal with one man, easy odds they figure but when you add a 200 pound dog into the mix, one that show signs of being in many fights. One I remember hearing later lost control of his bladder; the rest just ran for something to hide in.
The fight was over and at that moment it hit me, the boy was a trained hunter. One trained in the skills of the Halfling tribes of the plains. He would make a great scout, I would make sure of it.... At least that's what I was thinking up to the point I got over there...
"You boy, do you know what you did just now?" I ask in my best trainer voice.
He replies in a voice a little more than a whisper, "Ruined my chances to find my father, give me a moment to gather Fen and my gear and I will leave." He turns with a look saying that he was lost and alone in this world.
"Look for your father.... no boy, you don't have to leave, we are skipping basic with you, your more than qualified to serve as a scout in this army, with those skills you put to shame myself and some of the other men in this training camp." I shake my head and point out toward a few of my friends in the area with stunned faces. " And what's this business about looking for your father, his name rank and where he's posted should help us recover information on him" Up to this point I still hadn't taken a good look at the boys face, I instead turn to look for a page to get things started when I hear the one name I didn't expect....
"Robert Delento He was..." my son never finishes that sentence
Whirling I grab my son by his shoulders looking into his eye's, his mother's eyes and whisper the last thing I every thought to ask in this life "Thane..."
Lets just skip the next few moments in life, there were tears, hugs being tackled by an overly friendly dog. Some arguing with a base commander who wanted to make an attempt at control after his little failed attempt to make some coins.....
All that matters is after 8 years my son is home.....
Thane's role and life in the war was as productive as his father could make it. Thane was after a grueling run through the Breland Recon basic training, used mostly to hunt down spies and saboteurs, since his training with the hunters of the Talenta Plains gave him skills at stalking those that used stealth to their advantage. This was some of the most enjoyable time in Thanes life. The thrill of the hunt, the feeling when he successfully evaded capture or captured of an enemy and seeing how proud his father was when they were able to spend time together.
The war brought happiness and suffering as news of the deaths of old friends and new ones. By wars end Thane was a lieutenant in the Recon unit.
Joining the a bounty hunting guild was a interesting choice for Thane, while he could have joined one of the countless mercinary bands or the Watch. He felt that the challenge of working in a city such as Sharn would satisfy his hunter's instinct. It was a hard road for Thane once he joined, the people weren't as trusting, or tolerating of his work ethic. So deemed an outsider or strange. But it wasn't till a series of murders that people started to come around.
It was several months after his joining of the guild that Thane was asked to help track down a killer. With Fen retired to a breeding farm owned by an old friend. Thane was on his for this takes. It took weeks and several more murders before Thane tracked down the woman who was involved. During capture she jumped off one of the higher bridges before anyone could stop her, for once in Sharn there wasn't a mage ready or around to save her.
Thane was seen as a man who'd done his duty in helping the watch. It would be a few weeks before news of Fens passing reached him and it was soon after that Thane started to get the feelings of being watched.
It was a stormy day even for Sharn when Thane went over to his father's for the weekly dinner, his father had mentioned something about a surprised. Knocking on the door he wasn't surprised when his father didn't answer, thinking he was in his study Thane walked in. What he saw shocked him and made him instantly think back to the day of the caravan. His fathers place was a mess and he could hear someone up in his father's study. Drawing his sword Thane rushed to the study slamming open the door. The first thing he noticed was the sprawled corpse of his father. Tears streaming he scanned the room for the person he heard, there by the open window they stood. Cloaked and in shadow the figure turned and looked at Thane. "You took away my lover boy, since your father was the only one you care about in the city I though blood for blood was in order. " The voice was cold and barely more than a whisper. Thunder and lightning shook the room and once the flash of light was over the figure was gone. A bloody knife and a slip of parchment were all that was left.
Stumbling to his father's corpse Thane did his best to try and help, but he was gone. Still screaming in outrage, he heard the Watch start showing up. Quickly he rushing to the window Thane grabs the note and stuffs it into his a pouch before the first guard rushes in. The days to follow were a blur and it was a long night when he met up with Marty for a drink.
Thane sits across from Marty looking into the mug of ale. Its only been moments since he told Marty about his father and he was nervous about his friends response.
Marty looks down into his beer for a moment, before reaching out and roughly patting the larger man on the arm. He's trying to be comforting, the feeling is there, but he's clearly awkward at expressing such emotions.
"That's awful! You're father was a good man, and he didn't deserve that. No one does. That ****** is sick, and he needs to go down! The Wharf Watch doesn't handle murder, but if you want me to put in a word with the local watch I will, I'm sure you already know enough watchmen in that area without my help though."
He sips slowly on his pint of porter, thinking. "I'm not much of a detective, but if there's anything I can do, anything at all, let me know. Are you having a service for your father? I'd like to attend if that's ok."
"I'll keep it in mind old friend." The rest of the night was left to drinking, toasting fathers and old friends who should be here.
The funeral was hard but with the few friends that showed such as Marty and Mitaki it happened to be manageable. With Mitaki was Thane's last birthday present from his father, early since it was time for Thane to take over, a new puppy you could say, it seems Fen was looking out for him in the end and with Mitaki's care Fen sired one last brood of pups. His gift to his son was that surprise, it was a good one that brought him out of his dark mood. Naming him after his father, Fen II was going to help out like his old man and his first job was to help out with catching a killer.
Thane hadn't taken out the note since the first night after the murder. After reading it and copying it, he eventually dropped it off to the watch saying it was found out on his father's balcony. Rereading the copy put him in a dark mood. Fen resting next to him wined abit as his master seemed to get depressed.... Glancing down again he read the few words slowly...
I'm waiting for you boy, track be if you can, but if you get lost I'll point the way!
Crumpling it up, Thane tosses it into the fire. Soon after he stands and heads out into the night to hunt.
Its been months since Thane went on he hunt, losing track of time and people. The odd job came up now and then, but Thane only took them as funds required. It was down hill right from the get go, whispers in the dark alleys and rumors from the his contacts, but nothing brought him closer. Marty has been bugging him to catch up with drinks for weeks now and with no leads he might as well see his old friend.
Meeting up at the King of Fire Tavern, things start out slow, the basic chit chat and drinks, a bit of reminicing before Marty brings up to topic of choice for the night..
"Still no luck, huh? I'll tell you, something's gotta turn this around. I know the watch isn't always the most cooperative, but it seems like they're just not giving you enough help. There's a lot of us who are real, devoted public servants, but there's bad apples in there, and the whole thing could use more military discipline." Thane can sense that Marty is about to launch into one of his rants about how disorganized life is outside of the army, with practiced ease he brings him back to the subject at hand.
"Right, right, the watch is good, really. And you know what's real good, we look out for each other. Even the guys who aren't the best know the score. Watchmen look out for each other, cause if you can't protect your brother's in the Watch, who can you? Y'know? Anyway, that's what you need to do to get real help, you gotta stop being an independent. None of us really trust you freelance types. I mean, I know yer ok, but I served with ya, t'others just know you force them to go through a whole budgeting process that's a real pain in the... Well it's annoying. But if you were in the Watch then you've showed your one of us, right? Then you're a brother with a badge. Even the ones that don't like you will think about being a bit more helpful."
"Plus it'd be good for you. I mean, it's not quite the army, but it's getting better and better since the war. I mean it used to be the guys who were too old to fight, or too lazy, now it's got a bunch of vets like me who take it serious. You fought for your country before, when you're in the Watch you get to fight for it again, plus you get to actually help people. It's good work, and it's important work."
"For once Marty I might listen to you." Chuckling at the old joke "How about tomorrow you help me out in getting signed up, but if you get me stuck down at the docks I'm tossing you in. I'm a tracker, I may be in a slump with my current target, but I'm not wanting to get stuck in a sideline job."
Marty's response in lost in the noise of the crowd and the rest of the night is lost to drinking as old habits fall back into place. His mood lifting as he thinks on the distractions and the opportunities the Watch will provide.
Mataki D'Vadalis: Former companion of the Recon Unit, after the war became took an active role in her family dealings. Currently working at a family farm outside Sharn. - currently Thane knows of no political connections of hers or if she has aspirations of rising in her family - has worked as a traker for her when animals have run or people have stolen an animal - no favors of any importance are owed or in need of repay - just an old friend Kalaash'arrna (Dragonmarked pg 81): An independent inquisitive who runs a licensed agency called Information Acquisition. - Thane has used him as an information source on numerous occations - Thane has also be hired by Kalaash'arrna when an unknown element has been needed on jobs - Currently Thane has asked Kalaah'arrna to keep an eye out for a killer leaving a signed V as a calling card or anything resembling the murders from last year when his father was killed, he is paying for the information as it comes in -- currently no word Lord Kellas ir'Moran (SCoT pg 41): A retired commander of the Brelish Army of the East - One of Thanes former commanders and an old friend of his father Jolan & Sarina Milana (SCoT pg 82): Owners of the Bright Wind townhouse located in Oakbridge - Friends of Thane and his late father - Thane has kept an eye on their townhouse as they have always been good friends with his father, and have been known on occation to watch Fen for him when jobs don't allow the partners to work together -- they have mentioned that fen is good with their daughter Jalina and two sons, Mesin and Jeral
The Rat's Nest: A tavern in the North Market, Thane has found that residence of Sharn tend to overlook the shifter residence and has found that the shifters that frequent the place are sometimes willing to share what they hear for a few drinks or a couple gold.
Cloudpool Park: Thane like to visit the fantastic park in the sky when things trouble him. With a view of the sky and the surrounding area. Thane thinks of this place as a reminder to his days on the open plain. He has even wandered out onto the ice once and found the experence thrilling.
Keldorn Forge: Thane found the armourer on a job and instantly like the dwarf, after some harsh bargining and a few ales to seal the deal things went well, now Thane uses him as his primary armourer mostly due to the fact its out of the way. - Run by Antos Keldoran (SCoT pg 100)
Feats Human: Least Dragonmark of Passage (dimension leap 2/day) [ECS] 1st level: Dragonmark Prodigy (dark way 1/day) [Dragonmarked] 3rd level: Favored in Watch (Favored in House) [ECS]
Duskblade Weapon and Armor Proficiency: Duskblades are proficient with all simple and martial weapons, as well as all armors and standard shields.
Spells Known: -Cantrips (DC12): acid splash, disrupt undead (ranged touch), ray of frost (ranged touch), touch of fatigue*
-1st Level (DC13): ray of enfeeblement (ranged touch), shocking grasp (4d6)*, chill touch*, blade of blood, kelgore’s firebolt (4d6)
*touch spell (arcane channeling)
Spells Per Day (CL 4): 6/6
Arcane Attunement (Sp): Combined total of 5/day, use the following spell-like abilities: Dancing Lights, Detect Magic, Flare, Ghost Sound, and Read Magic (CL 4).
Armored Mage (Ex): Use medium armor and light shields with no chance of arcane failure.
Arcane Channeling (Su): Starting at 3rd level, a duskblade can use a standard action to channel a single spell through their melee weapon attack. The spell must be a touch spell and cannot have a casting time longer than a standard action.
Equipment +1 breastplate (1350 gp, 30 lbs, -3 ACP) +1 glaive (2308gp, 10 lbs) mwk spiked gauntlet (305gp, 1 lb) mwk heavy mace (312gp, gift from parents, 8 lbs) Belt pouch (1 gp) Feather fall talisman (50 gp) [Sharn:CoT, pg 170] Potion bracer (50 gp, 1.5 lbs) [Sharn:CoT, pg 159] Potions of CLW, CLW, shield of faith +2 (150 gp) Manacles x2 (30gp, 2 lbs) Spell component pouch (5 gp, 2 lbs) Tanglefoot bag (50 gp, 4 lbs) Silk rope, 50’ (10 gp, 5 lbs) Signal whistle (8 sp) Backpack (2 gp, 2 lbs) Identification papers with portrait (5gp) Scroll case (1 gp, ½ lb)
--- scrolls of color spray, color spray, jump, jump, obscuring mist, resist energy, resist energy, true strike, true strike, bigby’s tripping hand, stand, rouse (12x25= 300 gp)
House Orien most certainly does know about Luciana – at least, the Baron Kwanti d’Orien does, seeing that he has been watching her entire life for the dragonmark to manifest. Frustrated that neither his wife nor his mistresses had produced any marked heirs despite the arcane power pulsing in his veins and his unusually strong dragonmark, he sought the services of a diviner to discover what woman would bear him an appropriately powerful scion – the answer led him to a nobody, a pretty but unremarkable magesmith in Ardev. The fact that she was married and had already borne one child posed no obstacle to his goals. A few enchantments later, the woman was in love and then had forgotten Kwanti had ever visited her.
And he visited again, in many guises, to see the child -- and eventually to produce another when the first showed no signs of manifesting a dragonmark, even when he arranged for appropriately stressful incidents. By the time his first daughter went off to war, the Baron had practically given up on her. When word reached him from Orcbone that fate had triggered the mark as well as latent magical abilities, his interest in Luciana piqued with renewed fervor. Only he knows who she really is, but his agents in Sharn know she is of special interest to the Baron and accordingly keep an eye on her activities…
The “diviner” consulted by Baron Kwanti is actually a gold dragon observer of The Chamber, who guided the conception of Luciana and her sister for reasons beyond the Baron’s vain goals – and even now watches from the shadows of Sharn.
Lord Kellas ir’Moran(retired commander of the Brelish Army of the East, SCoT p41); plays conqueror with the old dwarf general at the Gold & White tavern
Dining club, Highest Towers, Upper Central (SCoT p 14) [regular, same effect as chosen tavern on SCoT p16?, +2 circumstance bonus on Gather Info or Knowledge (local) in same ward as dining club]
Attends services at The Citadel of the Sun (Hope’s Peak, Upper Dura SCoT p55); served with Aerela Tal(LG female half-elf adept 12) during the war and traveled to Sharn with her when the war ended; having saved each other’s lives more than once, they remain close friends
Rarely misses the opening of a new gallery at Sava’s Gallery in Lower Central (SCoT p48); friendly withSava Kharisa (owner of gallery, city councilor)
Regular at The Gold & White tavern (Daggerwatch, Upper Dura; SCoT p54).
With her promotion, Luci celebrated by getting on the waiting list at Clebdecher’s Loom for a custom glamerweave gown (Highhold, Upper Dura; SCoT p55)
Promoted to watch sergeant by Commander Lian Halamar (LE male halfling fighter 3/rogue 3; SCoT p 135); impressed that he isn’t a Boromar puppet, though she wishes he had a more proactive stance against Daask in Lower Dura
Belew Yorgan (LE male dwarf warrior 3/fighter 5, commands Sword Point Garrison; SCoT p136) is in the same dining club in Upper Central; he admires her ambition and has occasionally tried to poach her from Daggerwatch Garrison
Wishes to see her name appear on the crown’s Roll of Honor, granting her a title of nobility (she’s hoping both to distinguish herself in service to the Watch and make necessary connections via her Dining club membership in Upper Central)
Has a particular hatred of Daask, as she spent many battles fighting incursions of monsters from Droaam – including the battle where Alain lost his life; very suspicious of monstrous races and anyone with a connection to Droaam. While openly in agreement with retired General Tauma Hilliard’s recently issued criticism of Breland's postwar western defenses, she never speaks disrespectfully of King Boranel.
After witnessing so much death on the frontlines of the war, Luci has a thirst for life and a drive to create a legacy beyond death. She craves recognition for her accomplishments and flourishes under positive praise.
Sees her dragonmark as lucky, and the source of all her magic, for after it appeared the series of unfortunate events that plagued her teen years ceased completely. Or perhaps the gods were simply looking kindly upon her after taking her brother away.
Extremely curious about House Orien, she is still too afraid of her reception in the House to approach them openly – especially since she doesn’t have a clue how she is connected to their bloodline.
As soon as she reached adulthood, she followed her elder brother’s example and enlisted in the Brelish army. Before her first year of fighting was over, two events occurred that would change the course of her life forever: her brother died in battle beside her, and in the shock of her loss, a dragonmark blazed forth on her skin. A dragonmark that only belongs to a child of Orien, not to the daughter of weaponsmiths from Ardev. To this day, her mother denies any knowledge of how this might have come to be.
Heartbroken at the loss of her brother and personal hero, she soldiered on in fulfillment of her duty at the fort of Orcbone until the war was over. Then she left for Sharn; she and her brother had often dreamed of seeing the great city on the coast, and she could not return home after her failure in protecting Alain. She could not stand the pain in her mother’s eyes, or her father’s stooped shoulders. Even Glenas, her young sister, seemed to hold accusation constantly in her eyes during Luciana’s final visit to her childhood home.
Two years have passed since she made her new home in the City of Towers. As an unusually skilled soldier and esteemed veteran of the war, she easily found a place in the city watch. Flourishing under the mentorship of Gerald ir’Tosk, who must have recommended her to the Lord Commander for this new position, she has dedicated her life to protecting the inhabitants of this incredible city, this place of such darkness and light. It is her duty, her passion, her reason for drawing breath.
They should have done their research. Sure, they could take the glaive, the glove, the mace, the spellbag and scrolls…and, since they were very “diligent” with their hands-on search, the knife I kept for backup. And now that they had me all tied up in a dark room on a side street in a ward where no one wonders about the screams, they thought they were safe. Luckily they hadn’t stripped off my shirt, or they might not have made that mistake.
Seeing my gear unguarded across the room kept me grounded when the torture started. I give ‘em credit, they knew how and where to cut to make you wake up with cold sweats from the haunting pain, assuming you make it out alive. But no one had gotten this close to finding out who was bringing the dreamlily into my district, and I had come too far to jump early. Let them think I was all played out. The more I cried, the more their tongues loosened. The longer I held out on what I knew and who I’d told, the more likely I’d get to meet the boss.
And then she walked in, cloaked in darkweave like it could hide her sins as well as her skin from prying eyes in the night. My pain turned to triumph. This was as high as I was going to get. If Councilor Haldorak was head of the ring, let the barristers wring it out of his pretty little “secretary”. Besides, a few more caresses from those razors and the fight might have bled right out of me.
I closed my eyes and let the heat rush to my marked back. It burned. The space around me twisted. The room swirled around me in a flash, the space I had just occupied suddenly void as I stepped over to the table holding my gear.
Screams don’t usually make me smile, but I couldn’t resist the tugging at the corners of my lips when I heard the shriek of surprised defiance from our lady in black. That’s right, sweetheart, it’s over. And you’re going to pay the full due of justice.
I grabbed the glaive first to keep the henchmen at bay, then snatched my whistle up and blew three shorts and a long. I knew the Watch was dirty, but there were a few I knew I could trust – and only a fool goes into a job like this without backup.
After that, it was just another night’s work, rounded off by a stiff drink with the crew at the Gold and White.
Precisely what the portrait shows, only she's traded in the bow and sword. When she's on the beat, she prefers a glaive for serious fighting or her heavy mace for close work -- the mace is engraved with the symbol of Kol Korran, a gift crafted by her parents. Her dragonmark is located in the middle of her back.
She likes to wear her patriotism on her sleeve, so even her off-duty clothes are Brelish blue. And since status is important to her, she has already had a stylized green tower embroidered onto her cuffs and lapels.
An affable drinking partner, trustworthy ally and worthy opponent (whether at playing conqueror or sparring with swords), Luciana is well-liked by most honest people. She's ambitious enough to please those of higher-class backgrounds but grounded enough to get on well with common folk. Her biggest fault is that she is quick to judge anyone of monstrous descent or connection; fortunately this is a fault that is generally approved of by her social circle. She is also prone to jealousy if her usual role as star pupil is usurped, though she is more likely to hold it against herself than her perceived competition. She is not particularly romantic; she's committed to her job, her city and her career goals. None of which means she doesn't indulge in a bit of flirting in the appropriate setting.
A private dining club in Highest Towers, Upper Central. Luci pays an annual membership and dines at the club at least once a week, usually on Far, to make connections with civil servants, lesser nobility, and House scions (as well as other up-and-comers hoping to smooth the way up various career ladders). The chef is outstanding, the atmosphere darkly luxurious and the conversation interesting. It's a good place to keep up on news of the king, the legislature, the city council and changes in law.
[More details and NPCs coming]
Write up battle scene with Alain's death, dragonmark appearing
Note: I'm thinking the Baron is holding back from approaching her until her dragonmark improves to lesser. Or maybe he's waiting to see if Glenas will prove to be an even better heir. But I'll leave that development in your hands, Haqashtar.
His mother is the gnome scholar and historian, Dantella Martollo, who took him with her on all of her travels. Dantella started out, like most at Morgrave University, with a keen interest in Xen'drik. When he was two she was given permission to go on an expedition to Xen'drik. On their ship was a kalashtar psionicist, Parmash, and he and Dantella grew to be fast friends on the voyage, he entertained her with ever more fascinating stories of his homeland in Sarlona. He was accompanying the expedition in the hopes of finding a ship bound for Ardhmen in Syrkarn, from there he would make his way back to Adar.
Once they got to Stormreach, Parmash found that while ships heading away from Sarlona were not uncommon, ships heading back were harder to come by. Finally he found a captain who was leaving for Sharn, but said he would be heading back to Ardhmen on his return journey, if Parmash was still in Xen'drik in a year's time, the captain would take him on board. Since he had a year with nothing to do, Parmash joined Dantella's expedition. Quickly they became like a small family unit, studying the ruins and caring for the young Tolliver. Dantella and Parmash grew very fond of each other, and when the ship came for Parmash, Dantella decided that the opportunity to study the Kalashtar in Adar, with a native guide, was too good an opportunity to pass up, she got permission from the University's representative in Stormreach, and off they went.
They spent 10 years living with the Kalashtar while she studied their culture and abilities. Dantella periodically submitted reports on her work, and a few weeks after Tolliver's 17th birthday she received a letter from Morgrave University. Her reports had added greatly to understanding of the Kalashtar and were much appreciated. In light of those and her earlier work at Xen'drik they were offering her a full professorship if she came back to the university and began teaching. As the goal she had long awaited, Dantella set about finishing up all her work in Adar. 6 months later they said their emotional goodbyes to Parmash and got on a boat bound for Stormreach, and from there to Sharn.
Tolliver was 17 when their ship came into the docks in Sharn. He knew that Sharn was technically his hometown, but he'd last seen it when he was a toddler and he didn't like it. Everything was too big, there were too many people, and they were all so boring. He did his best to adapt, but it was a slow process. Of course, as the child of a professor at Morgrave University, Tolliver was expected to take classes at the university, which he did, but he steadfastly avoided all of the abstract intellectual classes that his mother wanted him to take, instead spending most of his time at the various gymnasia. His mother did manage to get him into a few classes more focused on intellectual concerns, but he rarely attended them.
His mother was not pleased. Before this, the lack of a father figure had never really effected their relationship, but as the young Tolliver grew increasingly rebellious. Dantella was less and less sure how to deal with him. They began having terrible fights and he would run off for days at a time.
It was around this time that he stopped calling himself Tolliver and started going by Marty. On his increasingly long trips away from the home he and his mother shared near Morgrave University, Marty explored as much of the city as possible. At first he avoided the more dangerous areas. Even in the safer parts of the city a young gnome on his own could be a tempting target, but the first few attempts at robbery went surprisingly badly for the muggers. Marty had never bothered to do much with the things he'd learned from the Kalashtar in Adar, but he started to now. He began seeking out these encounters, even exploring Fallen a few times. That proved too much, he got into a fight in Fallen that was well out of his league. He realized that he wasn't going to win against the band of toughs he met down there, bruised and bleeding he somehow managed to get away from them, though he still can't remember quite how.
His mother was shocked when her son, bruised and bloodied, came stumbling in the door. She rushed him to a healer and slowly but surely got some of the details out of him. She was very upset with him, but was also impressed at how much he had developed his psychic abilities from the little he had learned in Adar.
Dantella and Marty had a long talk, the first long talk they had had since they'd landed back in Sharn. Dantella finally accepted that Marty didn't want to follow in her footsteps and become a scholar, but she insisted that he needed some direction in his life, and his psionic talents might be the key to that.
When he was healed up, Dantella took him with her to the Adaran community in Overlook, there she took him to The Gathering Light, where her colleague Hanamelk worked. The two of them went off to talk privately, leaving Marty to gawp at the sites around him. It was like being back in Adar, people talking and meditating and practicing martial and psionic arts all around.
Dantella and Hanamelk finished their conversation, and Hanamelk waved to a tall muscular woman overseeing a group practicing martial arts. She joined them, they said a few words, and she came over to Marty.
"I have been told that you possess some talent, but little discipline. Your mother has asked me to train you. Come with me." Wordlessly she turned and headed back towards the group of students. Marty was thrilled, everything about her manner reminded him of happier times in Adar, and he cheerfully followed her.
He spent the next ten years training hard, and he made friends among his classmates. He became particularly close to a young man named Litham. Marty and Litham spent a lot of time together, talking about the war and what they would do if they were in it. On Litham's twenty-first birthday he told Marty that he was going to go off and join the army. There was no way that Marty was going to let him go off and have all the glory on his own.
He left a note for his mother to find, because he knew she'd stop him otherwise. He was older than Litham, but as gnomes go he still wasn't an adult. Fortunately the recruiters weren't that picky, and were more than happy to take his word for the fact that he was old enough. Two days later he and Litham were in bootcamp, a month after that they were in a small fort on the border with what is now Droaam. Groups of monsters had been raiding further and further into settled territory, and King Boranel had decided to seal off the lands beyond the Graywall mountains to minimize the distraction from the war effort.
Their company spent a hard year patrolling the border of the sealed off area, facing small raiding bands consisting mostly of gnolls and goblins, but facing small groups of ogres and trolls as well. One day, out on patrol, their squad saw a column of smoke in the distance. They sent a messenger back to the nearest army camp, and proceeded cautiously to investigate.
What they saw was worse than anything they had seen previously. Bodies littered the small settlement, and additional putrid filth seemed to have been intentionally scattered about. Other than that the place seemed deserted. Right up until the harpies came streaming down out of the smoke, shrieking as if to wake the dead. A disciplined troop, their sergeant got them into an orderly withdrawal, unfortunately they found their withdrawal blocked by a group of ogres unlike any they had seen before. These wore some kind of uniform, and they moved with the precision of well trained soldiers. One of them beheaded Litham with a backhanded swing of his axe, the blood sprayed all over Marty. He still remembers vividly what happened next, before Litham's head could even hit the ground a harpy swooped in, catching it in her talons, and flew up into the air cackling with evil glee. He raised his sword to avenge his friend, when he felt a sharp blow and the world flashed white before his eyes.
The next thing Marty knew was pain. The pain resolved itself to a series of brusing aches all through his joints, and a sharp throbbing on the back of his head and behind his eyes. He opened his eyes a crack and saw mud, he was face down in it, mud rich with the coppery scent of blood. The ambush came back to his mind in a flash and he tried to jump up and rejoin the battle. That was a bad idea, the sudden movement sent wracking pains through his body and he doubled over, retching. When he looked up he realized that it was no longer midmorning, but late evening. Gingerly he eased himself up and took in his surroundings. He saw the bodies of seven of his squad members sprawled out on the ground, obviously dead. Nearest him was their sergeant who lay on his back, his eyeless body staring up at the harpy corpse impaled on his sword. There were two men missing, Hafin the dwarf, and Bijo, two of the tougher soldiers he knew.
He looked around for them but didn't see anything. Then he heard a faint sound. He scrambled in the dirt for his sword and moved slowly towards the sound, his sword held out warily in front of him. The sound came from a low building, in better condition than most. He pushed the door open a crack with his sword and looked inside. There were Hafin and Bijo. Hafin lay half-dead, his sturdy frame dented by what looked like severely broken ribs, his breath came in shallow rasps, and he didn't seem to be conscious. near him, bleeding in several places but looking fairly healthy for the circumstances, was Bijo. Bijo had his arms around his knees, rocking back and forth on the ground, and he was sobbing piteously, the kind of sobs that a child makes when its tantrum has gone on so long it can barely make any more noise. Marty reached out to comfort him, and Hafin looked up briefly, starring at him with wild, uncomprehending eyes, then returned to his sobbing. Marty knew he needed to find help, the three of them were in no state to make it back anywhere without help.
He went back out to see if he could find anything to help them make it through the night. In the remains of an inn, collapsed in on itself, he found some half charred blankets, they weren't much, but they were something. From there he found himself in the town square, where he saw something he'll never forget. In the center of the square, on a stake eight feet tall, was a large parchment covered in writing. As he looked closer he saw that it was what looked like the same message in several languages. It was a proclamation announcing the creation of the kingdom of Droaam.
The next morning the rest of his company came into the ruined town. They found the three survivors and the horrible proclamation announcing the kingdom of monsters. Marty, Hafin, and Bijo were taken back to camp and seen by the healer. They healed Bijo's physical wounds, but his mind was a different matter, no matter what they did he never seemed to be really in the present, living perpetually with the terrors in his mind. When Hafin regained consciousness they found that he had also received wounds beyond the physical. They discovered he was subject to paranoid hallucinations when they found his nurse unconscious and Hafin 40 yards from the fort, gibbering to himself and swinging a stool at invisible enemies. Word spread quickly, and they began to refer to Marty as the 'sane one.'
Marty's wounds healed up and his mind seemed to have been spared whatever happened to his friends. Perhaps he had been unconscious when whatever it was struck. He returned to duty after a month in hospital, transferred to the main theater of the war. Rumors in the army are a force of their own, and when he got there they were already talking about the attack that left only three survivors, two of them gone mad, one sane. Nicknames are a hard thing to shake, and eventually he gave up trying to stop people from calling him 'Sane Marty'. He spent the next eight years fighting in the front, earning a reputation for taking the most dangerous assignments and somehow always coming out of them alive and successful. When peace broke out and he was taken off active duty he didn't know what to do with himself.
He went back to Sharn and his mother's home. He was a veteran now, but he still wasn't quite a gnomish adult, and neither of them were quite sure how to deal with each other. He took to going out drinking, his favorite place being The King of Fire. He didn't gamble himself, at least not with money, but it was a lively atmosphere that distracted him from his boredom and loss of purpose. One evening he was talking to a few other vets when one mentioned that the Watch was hiring veterans. Somehow the Watch hadn't occurred to him, it wasn't quite the same as the army, but it had the structure he missed, and opportunities to confront danger and help people. He barely slept that night and the next morning he presented himself at the recruiting office first thing. Two years later and he is a valued member of the watch, and thrilled to join this new elite team being put together.
The Inspired are aware of Dantella's work, and while she avoided any direct political discussions, they did not appreciate her writing about the Kalashtar of Adar in a way that contradicted their official narrative. They would deeply like to discredit her.
The commander of the Menthis Plateau watch, Silaena Cazal, does not like him. Unknown to Marty, when he helped Iyanna ir'Talan shut down a small smuggling ring, he cost Silaena a good bit of money and she would be happy to make his life more difficult if she can find a profit in it.
Dantella Martollo: Marty's mother, Professor at Morgrave University
Parmash the Kalashtar: His first tutor, currently living in Adar as far as Marty knows.
Litham, childhood friend and fellow soldier. Killed in battle around the time that Droaam declared independence.
Hafin and Bijo: Dwarf and human members of his squad during the war, they were driven mad in the same battle where Litham died. They are currently in a veteran's asylum in Sharn. Marty visits them about once a month, though it does little good.
Krevenna Mellip: His landlady in Den'iyas. Widowed and elderly, the rent is cheap, but she also asks his help with maintenance and repairs to her home.
The Gathering Light: Before he left for the war, and upon his return, Marty is a regular at the Gathering Light in Overlook (SCoT p56)
Hanamelk: Scholar at the Gathering Light, friend of Dantella's (SCoT p56)
Selkatari: Trainer at The Gathering Light, Marty's tutor and mentor (SCoT p56)
The King of Fire Tavern: since returning from the war Marty likes to hang out here, playing cards and enjoying the energy of the place. (SCoT p59)
Kidro Osanak: Antique shop owner in Menthis Plateau, Friend of Dantella's who later befriended Marty. He occasionally acts as a secret source for Marty about happenings in the trade. (SCoT p68)
Thurik Davandi: Member of the Sharn City Council, friend of Dantella's who is an occasional customer of his shop, Thurik did her a favor by getting her son into the Wharf Watch out of the Menthis Plateau. (SCoT p68)
Black Arch and Cogsgate: Marty spends a lot of time communicating with his colleagues in the watch out of Black Arch and Cogsgate since that is the primary way that goods enter the city by land.
Iyanna ir'Talan: Marty consulted with Iyanna a year ago on a ring of smugglers bringing in illegal Xen'drik goods to Sharn and smuggling them out from there into the rest of Khorvaire. They were never able to get the whole thing, but they were able to take down the couriers that made the whole thing work. Iyanna was very impressed by Marty, during the course of the investigation several opportunities came for him to enrich himself at little risk, and he took none of them. It's likely that she recommended him for this service. (SCoT p136)
Silaena Cazal: Marty respects her skills and long history with the watch, but he is troubled by her methods. He would have to be blind not to know that she supplants her watch salary with other activities and he is not blind. He is very grateful that being in the Wharf Watch means he is not under her direct command, but he is still extremely careful not to cross her, especially since he operates primarily in her district. Unknown to him, the smuggling ring he helped Iyanna ir'Talan break up was connected to her and she does not appreciate the role he had in taking out the rings couriers. (SCoT p136)
Thuranne d'Velderan: Marty has a mutually beneficial relationship with Thuranne, each slipping the other information or assistance on occasion. He is very fond of the half-orc and the two have drinks and share war stories about once a week. (SCoT p 75)
Coop: Met at recruitment, Marty was very interested in the presence of another gnome in the Watch.
Delon: Met at recruitment, should be an interesting discussion about Sarlona.
Luciana: Her older brother, Alain, was part of the squad that found Marty after the attack by the Droaamites. Marty greatly admired Alain and they continued to correspond periodically until Alain's death. Marty met Luci at Alain's funeral and was surprised and pleased to meet her again at the Green Tower.
Thane: He and Marty worked together at the front during the war. They weren't in the same group, but Marty's combat squad often got called in to situations that were first created by Thane's recon team. Since Marty was a corporal and Thane a lieutenant their friendship was a bit distant, but it relaxed significantly after the war was over and they found themselves back in Sharn.
Marty doesn't have any real long term plans. He lived a fairly directionless life before joining the army and one of the main reasons he joined the watch was to regain that sense of order and direction. He's passionate about his job and wants to do as good a job as possible. He's disgusted by the corruption around him and works very hard to remain above it all. He thinks that he can just do his job honestly and avoid conflict with the more corrupt parts of the police force, at least most of the time. He is wrong, the past two years have seen him accidentally bump up against the projects of less moral officers on several occasions. He is as yet unaware of how much he has annoyed some people.
He is troubled by the Boromar clan's influence, but sees it as preferable to Daask, which he sees as a continuation of Droaam's attempts to weaken Breland. In his mind Daask is interchangeable with the action that lead to the death of his friend Litham. He would love to see both groups removed, but if he has to chose, he sees Daask as the greater evil.
The gnomish child was leaning against the bow, staring out to sea, his mother, overcome by seasickness, hadn't wanted to play with him, and had kicked him out of their cabin to go play.
"The roll of the waves can be entrancing." Parmash said, coming up to the bow behind him. "Hypnotic."
"I know what that means." said the boy, Tolliver Martolo, "It means they can make you look at them, and they can put you into an unconscious state."
"Correct, though the literalness of your explanation denies them their majesty."
"Do you always have to speak like a dictionary?" Says the boy, sounding out each syllable of the word.
"My apologies, I learned this tongue only late in life, and I find it less expressive than my own. In order to translate my thoughts property I must rely on the nuanced differences between words that many see as synonyms."
"But it's common, it's called that cause everyone speaks it." Says the boy, sounding offended by the man's ignorance of how the world works.
"It is the common tongue of Khorvaire, the continent you come from, but it is not the common language of Sarlona, where I come from. My people speak Riedran when we must, but prefer to use Quor amongst ourselves."
"Quor? That doesn't even sound like a word." Scoffs the boy.
"It is a beautifully expressive language, the language of dreams."
The boys eyes grow large. "Good dreams?"
"Yes, and bad too, the language itself does not take sides in the matter." Parmash voice goes somewhat distant and he stares out unseeing at the waves before them.
"Could I speak Quor?" The boy asks, jarring the Kalastar from his meditation.
"Could you? I suppose you could. However to speak the language you will have to learn to think it too, and that can be quite an undertaking, even for so bright a boy as you. If you wish it, and your mother permits, I will teach it to you."
The boy raced nimbly back to his mother's cabin. She saw no harm in the idea, rather, pleased at her son's interest in gaining knowledge, she encouraged it. Parmash and Tolliver Martolo then spent the rest of the long journey chatting back and forth in the language of the Quori.
Sane Marty showed up at the recruitment office in Warden Towers so early that he had to wait twenty minutes for the surly dwarf who ran it to arrive. The dwarf gave him a sullen, skeptical look. "What can I do for you so early in the morning?"
"I'd like to join the watch, sergeant." Said Marty at his military best.
"I just bet you would. Eager little fella aren't you." Sneered the dwarf. "I'll bring you the test once I've settled in."
The settling in process proved to be fairly lengthy. It was about three hours later when the dwarf looked up from the papers at his desk to stare at Marty.
"Still here?" His tone was frustrated, he'd clearly hoped that the gnome would get discouraged and leave. "Alright, one second."
He rooted around in his desk, pulled out a small bundle of papers and an hour glass. He stomped over to where Marty was sitting and slapped the papers down on the table next to him. "You have one hour from when I get back to my desk, no more. And I hope you brought a pen with you, cause I can't spare you any."
Marty smiled at him politely and brought out his own pen. The dwarf shrugged, walked back to his desk, and turned the hour glass. Marty set to it.
After finishing the test, Marty went home. His mother was sitting in the living room sipping a cup of tea and reading a parchment. She looked up at him, "I thought you were still asleep, what got you out of bed so early and in your best clothes?"
"I have just taken the entrance exam to join the Watch!" Marty said proudly.
"I see, well, I'm glad you've finally decided to do something, but isn't the watch a bit dangerous?" She frowned, she'd already come close to losing him in the war, and she wasn't happy about him putting himself in danger again now that there was peace.
"It's no more dangerous than many other things, and you at least get the protection of your fellow watchmen, and it's the right thing to do." He said, frustration with his mother building in his voice.
"Well, if that's what you want to do, I'm happy for you. When do you learn if you've been accepted."
"The sergeant said I would hear from them in a week or so." Said Marty, who had not actually bothered to ask when he would hear back.
"Well that's good."
Later that day, Dantella walked into Davandi Fine Tailoring, looking for Thurik Davandi. Seeing her, the shopkeeper and city councilor hustles over.
"Dantella, my dear! What a delight to see you, I'm afraid that you're new gown won't be ready for a few days yet, but I can assure you it's coming along very nicely. It will be beautiful, I promise."
"Oh thank you Thurik, that's so nice to hear. However, I haven't come about the gown." She pauses a little shyly. "I've come to ask you to do me a small favor..."
"But of course, my dear. I am always keen to help those in my district, particularly an illustrious and beautiful scholar like yourself." He smiles.
"Well, it's about my son Tolliver. You remember him?"
"Of course I do dear! A worthy veteran who served nobly in the war and has returned to his home district." He pauses. "He hasn't gotten himself into any trouble has he?" Thurik Davandi's manner is a perfect example of good-natured concern, if an observer didn't know any better they might think he was a politician or something. Of course, he is.
"Oh no, no. He's not in any trouble." Laughs Dantella somewhat awkwardly. "It's just that he told me this afternoon that he took the entrance exam for the Watch this morning."
"The Watch!" Thurik exclaims proudly. "A fine occupation for a veteran, I will be happy to put in a good word for him, make sure that they accept him. Although I doubt that he needs my help to be admitted."
"Well, actually, I was hoping that you could recommend that they give him a nice safe desk job or something..." She said, looking embarrassed.
"Oh of course my dear! A nice safe desk job, a poultice for a mother's concern! Glad to do it, delighted!"
"Oh thank you Thurik! Thank you so much!" Dantella said, shaking his hand vigorously.
"Think nothing of it dear." He smiles, waving it off like nothing. "Of course, if you should remember my little help around election time..." he trails off.
"Oh Thurik, you know you have my vote, you have done so much for this district."
"Thank you kindly dear! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a few things to do."
Thurik didn't have the heart to tell Dantella that there was no such thing as a truly safe job in the watch, but he did know Marty, and he thought he could do the boy a favor while at the same time earning himself some credit. The boy spoke more languages than any sane person had a right to, and the wharf watch could use that kind of talent. Plus, it would get him away from the direct control of Silaena Cazal, Thurik was sure the two of them wouldn't get along. He drafted a quick letter with his recommendation, and smiled. That was that, now to more important matters.
The Wharf Watch was not as safe as Dantella hoped, but he doesn't tell her how dangerous it is, and she never told him that she had worked to have him placed somewhere safe, so both are happy. Not long after getting the job he moved out of Dantella's home in Ivy Towers and into a small room in a boarding house in Den'iyas. His landlady is a widowed old gnome named Krevenna Mellip who rents out the basement apartment of her house in exchange for fairly affordable rent, plus occasional help with repairs and maintenance.
Joining the Wharf Watch, Marty's skill with languages made him immediately valuable. (after picking up Quorn, he'd become particularly good at picking up new languages during his travels with his mother, and he never really stopped. He's always working on learning some new language.) Since he had spent so long traveling with his mother and looking at artifacts and antiquities, he had a little skill with appraising and he developed this talent effectively as part of his initial training. The Wharf Watch didn't sound that thrilling to Marty when he was assigned to it, not nearly as thrilling as being a beat cop, but he quickly developed a taste for it. He also got real pleasure from the way wealthy merchants who were unimpressed by the average watchmen became very respectful and helpful when faced with a member of the Wharf Watch.
Tufts of brown hair stick out in all directions from Marty's head. His notion of controlling it is to cut it really short about every six months or so. Large, bright blue eyes stare out of his face, and his smile flashes on and off with the speed of a signal lantern.
His armor and clothing is of high quality, but it's not immediately obvious. When with the Wharf Watch he wore the standard uniform over his armor, doing his best to look like an unexceptional civil servant. Now that he's in the Green Tower this hasn't changed much. He still wears a fairly generic uniform, but with the symbol of the Green Tower on it instead of the Wharf Watch.
Racial and Class Abilities Total combined power points: 19 [11+6+2] Psion ML: 3 Powers Known: 7 Level 1: Empty Mind, Crystal Shard, Déjà vu, Vigor, Sense Link Level 2: Energy Missile, Damp Power Ardent ML: 1/ 4 Mantles: Creation and Freedom Powers Known: 2 Level 1: Astral Construct, Dimension Hop
Psicrystal A pet rock called: Spi Purple, amethyst-like Observant Level 4 Alertness, improved evasion, personality, self-propulsion, share powers, sighted, telepathic link, deliver touch powers. Hit Dice: 4 (11 Hpts) Initiative: +2 Speed: 30 ft. (6 squares), climb 20 ft.* Armor Class: 17 (+1, +4 size, +2 Dex*), touch 16, flatfooted 14 Base Attack/Grapple: +0/–17 Special Qualities: Construct traits, hardness 8, psicrystal granted abilities Saves: As master’s saves Abilities: Str 1*, Dex 15*, Con —, Int 7, Wis 10, Cha 10 Skills: Climb +14*, Listen +6, Move Silently +6, Search +4, Spot +13
Equipment Carried Powerstone Missive 25gps Powerstone Vigor (ML:3, 15hpts) x4 300gps Powerstone Astral Construct (ML:4) x3 300gps Powerstone Grease (ML:1) x2 50gps Powerstone Energy Push (ML:3) 150gps Powerstone Energy Stun (ML:3) 150gps Powerstone Energy Missile (ML:3) 150gps Dorje Entangling Ectoplasm 10 charges 150gps Dorje Grease 10 charges 150gps Dorje Detect Psionics 10 charges 150gps Powerstone Urban Strider 25gps Powerstone Detect Hostile Intent 150gps Powerstone Knock 150gps Heavy Darkwood shield +1 1257gps Least Crystal of Arrow Deflection 500gps MW Std Leather 175gps (ArCh 0) Belt of Healing 750gps Tattoo of Chameleon 50 Potion of Cure Light x2 100gps Potion of Hide from Undead 50gps Potion of Protection from Evil 50gps Everburning lantern 212gps Holy Symbol silver Dol Arrah 25 Satchel (Backpack) 2gps Smokestick 20gps Sunrod x 6 12gps Noxious Stick (ECG) 80gps ID papers with portrait 5gps MW Cold Steel Dagger 310gps Feather Token 50gps Noble outfit 200gps SatchelShow
Money: 75 gp 3sp 3cp Background Delon ir’Tain is a direct descendent of the ir’Tain clan, the most powerful noble family in Sharn. An unfortunate marriage or two by grand and great grand parents had seen this now fully human branch of the half-elven clan fall into obscurity and disrepute, a situation which Delon’s father reversed through hard headed business acumen, investing wisely in Zilargo elemental vessels and Lyrandar cargo handling. His mother, a pampered socialite, nevertheless provided a loving and cared for childhood. Delon has had life’s needs delivered to him on a silver platter. Delon grew up in Skyward with nothing but the best at his beck and call. With nothing but the highest of expectations for his future. Delon’s moment of destiny arrived when as a student in Morgrave University he witnessed an extraordinarily beautiful exotic woman, the head of an entourage of veiled foreigners, vanquish an attack on her servants by some Daask minotaur run amok. Delon had wanted both the woman and the power she so ably wielded. An arrogant callow young man he was used to getting what he wanted. In this case though it had taken all of the focused dedication Delon had inherited from his father, to first convince his paternal parent to make the necessary approach, with a gift to the Reidran embassy worthy of a prince, and then stay committed through long hours of disciplined study to achieve the mastery of the psychic skills his dazzling tutor deigned to impart. So it was Delon was ensnared body and soul in the machinations of the Quori. His tutor paramour departed Sharn leaving the forlorn love-sick Delon to find some new activity to direct his attentions – the Green Door had the ‘right’ kind of people in charge, Iyan ir’Talan was a nobleman’s noble and this special branch of the watch appealed to the increasingly worldly young man. He had thrown himself into the profession with a will, and found himself a new life.
*** Delon stood in the training room, concentrating on the crystal in his hand, seeing the tracery of power that lay within it, learning to tap the power and drawn it forth. He had advanced far and even as he summoned forth the energies that lay bound within the stone, to send a bolts of screaming sonic energy into the practice dummy, he asked, “So who are these kalashtar?” There was a soft gentle laugh at this inevitable question. "Rebel refugees. You are a noble Delon. You understand that whoever rises to rulership and power has to face those who covet such for themselves, who say why do you have that and not me? It is an old issue and one that does not concern us now. Reidra is a nation of millions of peoples, a few score hold-out fanatics here in Sharn are of no consequence. We ignore them, and so should you.” Delon indeed nodded his understanding. Then there was a little breath swiftly caught, of sudden worry, perhaps indicating a newly thought of fear, of love and concern for someone dear. “Delon, sweetest. You must not go near them. Should the kalashtar learn of your involvement with this embassy they may attack you to get at us. Beware the kalashtar, they wield dangerous powers of the mind you have yet to learn, and could turn you against me.” Delon alarmed, had taken the warning to heart, yet had still managed a chirpy, “Turn me against you? Never, not in a thousand cycles of the dozen moons!” And so it went. Within the first week of the ir’Tain request of the Reidran embassy to take a student to train the ways of psychic power the Quori had known more about the ir’Tain’s than they knew themselves. When the time had come for a new training, a new tutor was found. An ancient man wise and learned that initiated Delon in the ways of controlled passion and drive, of focusing the mind along avenues of life disciplines rather than the categories of psychic power differentiated technically that Delon had first studied. “Freedom, it is precious and it has to be earned,” stated the venerable mystic. “I’m not blind,” remarked Delon. “I see the way the Reidran people here, even the lowest scullery maid, look upon people of Galifar. Lice on a troll is not even close.” “You must forgive them,” said the old man. “They have grown up in a world that is so different. Nobody starves in Reidra. Nobody lacks for shelter. There is always aid and comfort for those in need. They have attained freedom and a stable society for so many generations now that they have forgotten where they themselves came from only a few centuries ago. “But you here are not free. You all follow the commands of the il-avatar. You would all gladly leap out of this tower if one so ordered it.” “Ah. You miss-construe matters young Delon. That is allegiance freely given. Respect due to those who have earned the right to rule. Tell me Delon, would you lay down your life for your King Boreniel.” Delon paused for a thoughtful moment. “Why, yes, I suppose I would if the need called for it. There would be few Brelish who would not.” “And so you have it Delon. The il-avatar are followed by choice, not by desperate fear of need or driven to obedience at the edge of a sword. Free will and freedom of choice are a far greater social force you’d agree.” “Well it’s the tenants of the democracy that a lot of my countrymen would have us turn to after the King passes away. Government of the people for the people, with leaders you have chosen.” The old man continued sagely. “Yes, that is the first step. But not too quickly Delon. Social change comes slowly, or you face revolution and chaos. Change is always difficult. The people need to be helped. Democracy, but with the right leaders, men and women who will care for their citizens through a dangerous time.” Delon nodded in agreement again, seeing the wisdom and truth in the Reidran’s words. Then there were lessons in creation. “A drive in all sentient creatures. The basis of all civilization. That which makes us fundamentally different from dumb beasts. Ah, I wish you could see the wonderful monoliths we have in Reidra Delon. Vast edifices to the power of the mind, ensuring the mental health of our people. Where there is a monolith there are no nightmares, no paranoia and disturbances of the brain. Truly it is something you lack here in Khorviare. And even the sight of them is inspiring, a monument to creative achievement.” There was an impulsive burst of enthusiasm in Delon. A novel idea taken root. “You know, my family has land ideal for such a construction, private estates outside of Galethspyre with a good port, labor and space aplenty. We could manage that you know.” “What? Really?” came the disinterested reply. “Well, just for you Delon I’ll mention it, but time to get back to more pressing matters, your ectoplasmic construct is missing half an arm!” So it went, the Quori maneuvers a matter of such long practice that they were beyond contemptuous ease.
*** Delon sat ensconced with his father in the small but ultra-sumptuous, ultra exclusive apartments in the highest tower in Brilliant. The pair sat sipping fine whiskey and looking out over the clouds beneath them at a glorious sunset far out on the horizon. Delon’s father was a solid comfortable man. A man who nearing old age had achieved his life goals. Malchion, or Mal as he was called, had his family fortunes restored and himself ingrated with the highest echelons of the ir’Tain clan. Malchion kept out of the public eye, but Celyria ir’Tain, the matriarch of the ir’Tains and de facto queen of Sharn had promised him that should Delon make a proper marriage and produce a half-elven heir, his son’s son would be brought out at as an ir’Tain, to be publicly acknowledged as part of the clan and able to assume any position in it his capabilities took him. Malchion’s eldest daughter, Delon's older sister, lived with Malchion’s wife in the vast estate he owned stretching along the route from Galethspyre to Ardev. She and her mother were constant companions, grand manor ladies, flitting across the Dagger Sound in a Lyrandian elemental skiff, to the balls and pageants of Wroat high society, and perhaps also keeping away from the world controlled by Celyria ir’Tain. Delon’s younger sister was a dabbler, who seemed to have missed the focused diligence Delon had acquired from his father – she had opened small businesses, ran through a series of beaus, and was now slumming it in the bordellos of Lamplight. Still Malchion believed that when the time came she would be able to manage the commercial affairs of the house. For Delon though, his father had other plans. He thoroughly approved of his son’s current occupation and took this moment to express it as they sat chatting about the Green Door and intricacies of Sharn politics. “You know where this leading Delon,” stated Malchion becoming expansive as he took in his son’s growing maturity. “In a few years you can retire out of the Green Door and there will be a series of interviews about your experiences as an incognito upholder of law and order in the underworld of Sharn. These will be picked up and ran by the Korranburg Chronicle, who will add a short piece about the crime and problems of Breland. There will be a counter rebuttal by yourself, a spat in the name of Belish national pride, and some harsh words bounced back and forth for the entertainment of the masses. Can you grasp the political capital in all of this Delon? You will be set, untouchable by your opponents, known to everyone in Breland as a champion of Breland. In a few years when the King passes away, the people of Breland will be looking for new heroes to lead them in troubled times. You could be that man Delon. Properly managed, the sky’s the limit.” Malchion waved outwards at the incredible vista before them. Delon frowned, as always the bedrock of ir’Tain practicality pushed casual pretty dreams aside. “I am not a good enough speaker Father. Neither publicly nor privately.” Malchion shot his son a dagger-like approving glance. “You wouldn’t need to be Delon. Pick a theme you are comfortable with, justice for the common man, freedom from tyranny, whatever. Simply repeat this theme and variants of the theme and people will see that concept as you. For the rest of it, well a good wife will take you far. You’ll need someone astute, able to gabble away at civic functions and look the part, capable of drawing attention away from you while adding to your image. That’ll be an important decision you’ll have to face one day, Delon.” Delon didn’t smile. He knew his father was deadly serious. “Time enough for that. I’ve something else to mention tonight.” Delon was in no rush, gazing up at the line of the shards of Syberius in the sky, keeping his voice deliberately casual and conversational. “The Riedran’s could be interested in building something here in Khorvaire. Some sort of monolith.” “Really, what does it do?” “Helps people with their dreams and mental health.” Delon paused for a moment, Delon knew his father and let the budding thought that perhaps Delon was about to take up a bleeding heart crusade rise to the surface. Then Delon carried on, “That’s immaterial. These monolith’s are huge. The size of a Sharn tower, made of rare heavy crystal and rock that would need to be transported across the ocean from the continent of Sarlonna. Working with the right partner, say one who had provided the monolith building site and had the necessary shipping contacts, the Riedrans would pay for all transport and construction costs. Furthermore this partner would have unique trading rights with Riedra, gaining a virtual monopoly on various aspects of business between two continents. A special trade route with exclusive rights would be guaranteed.” There was a long silent pause. Then Malchion came over to place his hand on Delon’s shoulder. Delon knew his father was enormously pleased, that the unvoiced social contract that had been entered into with Malchion allowing himself to be persuaded to let Delon study with the Riedran embassy complete. “A guaranteed political future, and richer than the Kundarak’s.” The pair became quiet again gazing out into the gathering dusk. Far away a baby was getting a bath in one of the communal nurseries that the Riedran’s had for all children. A fine healthy boy that would grow up, and at an appropriate time presented to his father. Perhaps the mother would return with the son, perhaps the mother had met with a tragic end, the boy cast out upon the world. The most efficacious line would be spun and the ir’Tains would have a new heir, one who looked close enough to being a half-elf that it would not matter, one who would pass all divinations as being a true ir’Tain heir, and one who would be… a Chosen.
Appearance Delon cuts no great figure, rawboned with a brutally square jaw, seemingly awkward, with short thick curly black hair which grows profusely on his chin such that despite the heat and humidity of Sharn he keeps a neat goatee rather than attempt to shave it clean morning and night. Along with his dark brown eyes and heavy graceless tread, there is little of his distant elven heritage in him. His clothes are a reflection of his considered place in society. He wears a custom tailored noble outfit designed for his adventuring purposes. Simple, yet elegant shear black spider silk, platinum thread piping and trimmed with manticore fur, subtle embroidery catching the light on close inspection. Nothing as gaudy as a glamour weave outfit, but something Delon can still wear in an ambassador’s residence with aplomb. Of course Delon would never wear anything so crass as having a spiky ball of metal like a morningstar hanging off his belt. He has a finely wrought cold iron dagger of an interesting and unique design – perhaps even extra-planar in origin discretely placed by his hip. When required to go undercover, Delon has a set of tattered overalls and acts as a travel agent, arranging the itineraries of personages in and out of Sharn, no questions asked and guaranteed 'complication' free.
Personality Delon is not the most popular member of the watch. His aversion to getting his hands bloody, or rather of staying conveniently out of harm’s way, is widely recognized. There is also a definite attitude about the young nobleman of why be nice to people going up the ladder unless you one day intend to come down it. He is focused on his own affairs and not a good listener. He has rather an inflated opinion of his own importance, he considers even Delon’s cell head Gerald ir’Tosk as someone who Delon could have dismissed from the Green Door at any time. Still Delon is nobody’s fool. He has a sharp incisive mind, with his thought processes based on a solid grounding of practical sensibility. He may be playing at heroic adventurer now, but the experiences while working with the Green Door have opened his eyes somewhat. While he retains a ferociously competitive edge and a native stubborn pride that will not brook defeat, not for himself, nor the Green Door, nor the ir’Tains, nor Breland. Delon is a notoriously bad shot, a walking disaster zone in training, and one time for real he had missed his target with a tanglefoot bag, only to entangle his cellmate. Delon had then, blushing red with embarrassment and fury, drawn his dagger to go toe to toe with a raging bugbear. An action well noted. As the cell sergeants commented with a chuckle, “Delon would prefer to lose his life than lose face”. In the close knit cells of the Green Door, living alongside people who you must confront danger and death with on a regular basis, one cannot fool all of the people all of the time, and Delon is understood and tolerated. Delon uses his first name when working in the Green Door and simply does not introduce his surname, ever. Delon he is to his colleagues and he hopes to keep it that way. His code name, for whenever the Green Door members need discretion when discussing plans and people, is Night Owl due to his many evenings out. This is actually due to Delon going off to dig his younger sister out of some jam or another, which Gerald and Iyan are aware. Delon does not know that they have had him followed on occasion but he suspects it, running training activities against other Green Door staff, with or without the target’s knowledge was common practice. It should be remembered that Delon has come from a branch of the ir'Tains that has had to be discrete about the fact they are ir'Tain to the world. A perhaps subconcious insecurity such that Delon feels the need to assert his nobility in his clothes and mannerisms. Delon bears a silver symbol of Dol Arrah, the Soveriegn God of Knightly Good. Delon always liked the stories of Dol Arrah's glorious nobility and upstanding honor as a child, but to him fantasy stories were all they were, without bearing on the realties of the world he lives in. Delon enjoyed and enjoys the Green Door specialist skill training, it was as he said an opportunity to put all those years of staid courtly dancing lessons to use, only twice the fun. He had always been naturally observant. Where he struggled was with his new occupation of ectoplasmic sculpting. Delon's constructs still looked like they came out of a cookie cutter. Still he was not trying to shape a walking changeling. It had been an interesting choice for Delon, to take that study path, and he had in fact done it primarily for his Green Door colleagues, to have something to place in the way of danger other than his co-workers flesh. Not that Delon ever stated it like that - no the constructs were to protect his back as Delon made his get away. But as had been noted, Delon is put up with; for good cause. After a difficult beginning, when his ego took more than a few bruises, Delon now is proud of his position in the Green Door and is a dedicated professional. People forgot when thinking of the atypical blasting mage and the job description of sniper, that often a sniper's key roll was slowing down the opposition when the heat got too hot and the Sharn Watch had to flee for their lives. There were unexpected threats aplenty in the Dragon Between, no common Watchman was expected to take out a Droam medusa Daask leader, or an elite squad of Daarkann hobgoblins or an aberrant horror of Khyber. That was when Delon came into his own, able to blast and run, lay down a construct and take off up a convenient wall, too potent for the Watch's enemies to ignore, fast and agile enough to draw foes away and evade them with a set of tricks up his sleeve, Delon's ability to instantly slip through the dimensions having saved his very precious skin before now. Delon has gotten more than one squad out of life threatening situations. When the simple goblin in rags before them pulls out a glowing adamantine battleaxe, Green Door operatives are suddenly highly appreciative of the fact that it is Delon backing them up,
*** Interlude Delon and his father met again in a quiet corner of the Trader's Hall to discuss their latest developments. Malchion declaiming on his visit to the Riedran Embassy. "We did, as hoped, catch them unprepared with me turning up for the meeting insteady of you Delon." Malchion might have been providing a board meeting report. "There is something in the Reidran society that resists sudden change, the common staff don't like new developments." "They accepted my story you were too busy and thought I would be better able to manage the commercial aspects of the conversation. Too easily, it isclear they keep a watchful eye on you Delon and have a good idea of what you're up to." The warning in Malchion's words was clear. "The embassy itself is a front." Malchion then continued. "I though all embassies were a front for something or another, often dubious," smiled Delon. "Yes and no," Malchion stated thoughtfully. "It is a front, but on a scope beyond me. There is such a cultural gulf between us and them, so many different thought patterns and motivations I really couldn't comment." "Do you mean something like the gnomes?" suggested Delon. "No, that's not it," replied Malchion. "The gnomes go about their business openly enough, it's what goes on behind the scenes that the rest of the world doesn't see. The gnomes are like the dwarves, yet no so. Anger a dwarf and you have the whole clan for an enemy. With the gnomes you can be assured somewhere there is a gnome 'librarian' that has a little scroll with everything you done to help Zilargo, and everything you've done to hurt them." Malchion paused. "Regards any business, it probably won't happen in my lifetime. There's a glacial approach to their doings Delon. They're in no hurry, and it's you they're interested in. I've had my time. They want to see how you develop. If you prove yourself successful you'll find the business comes to fruition. You fail along the way and you'll find the embassy's doors closed against you." Delon grunted in dissapointment, not that he had really expected anything different. If you were going to found a new business on an international scale there were always going to be prerequisites. "What did you make of the consul you met?" ventured Delon carefully. Malchion cleared his throat and then came straight to the point. "I felt something I'd not expected to Delon. I was afraid. A cold wind blew up and down my spine. Yes, the consule was someone incredible, all cystal armor and covered in items of power. That was not the reason for my fear. There was a representative of a country that could and would crush the ir'Tains like a bug. And yet that was not what troubled me either. I can't put my finger on it Delon, but I've learned to trust my instincts after all these years." There was a long moment of silence as Malchion organized his thoughts, and Delon respectfully kept his peace. "What of your sister? Malchion asked finally. "Debra's got herself in deeper than she expected, losing a chunk of cash on a rigged gaming table in a sting between a fake escort and the house owners. You know - place this bet for me dear, the escort does a runner and Debra's been left expecting to foot the bill." There was a grunt of acknowledgement of Delon's words from Malchion, though there was little suprise in it. "It's complicated," remarked Delon."There are all sorts of murky underworld gangs and I think this has one of the worst behind it, the Tyrants... its members changelings and dopplegangers, impossible to eradicate. They'll have hit on her knowing she can pay, and keep on paying." "Hmm... yes, the reason I always paid the gnomes their exhorbitant fees. All polite and charming on the surface, but if something came along to actually threaten to derail the business, that 'thing' would miraculously disappear. Like vanish never to resurface." Malchion stated grimly. "Anything I can do to help?" Malchion finished. "Not right now, Dad," replied Delon. "Our section of the Watch has ways of looking after their own. Debra's received a nasty shock. She was threatened with the idea that she'd never know if her next boyfriend would slit her throat in the middle of the night while she was asleep. It worked. It'll probably do her some good." "So be it, Delon. You deal with that, keep me informed please, and I'll think a bit more about our exotic friends from across the ocean."
Class features Proficiencies: light armor, shields, simple weapons Aura of Law and Evil Rebuke undead 5/day - Rebuking check +4 / Total HD rebuked 2d6+5 Necromancer domain (ECS 107) Spontaneous Domain Casting: Necromancer (PHB2) - variant Extra class spells from Cloistered Cleric (SRD) - variant Knowledge and Law domains exchanged for their Devotion feats (CC) - variant Lore +10 (roll twice)
Eldritch Blast 1d6 Detect Magic at-will
Spells - CL 2 (CL 4 for Necromancy) 0 (4) Detect Poison, Detect Poison, Message, Message 1 (2+1+1) Lesser Vigor, Lesser Vigor, Ray of Enfeeblement, Shield of Faith
Invocations Beguiling Influence Baleful Utterance
Skills (again, I will transfer it here later on - tell me if that's a problem.) Highlights: Diplomacy +15 K: Arcana, History, Religion +7, K: Local +9 (roll twice take best) Search crime scene +13 Collector of Stories skill trick Languages: Common, Gnome ; Orc, Infernal ; Goblin, Dwarven, Draconic Gear MW Chain shirt +1 [1.25k] Headband of the Lorebinder (MIC) [1.4k] Cloak of Resistance +1 [1k] Healing Belt (MIC)  Wands (5ch): Comprehend Languages, Scholar's Touch (RoD)  Inquisitive's Kit (ECS)  Glamerweave outfit (ECS)  Special Holy Symbol of The Divinity Within  (based on the Ruby Skull of Wee Jas, CC 134) Antitoxin  50gp left
Coop was born in a hamlet near Korranberg, in Zilargo. His father is a sweeper - a position that actually garners a minor amount of respect with cleanliness-obsessed Zils - and his mother a seamstress: both depended on the economy revolving around the Great Library.
He had a peaceful childhood. He was a slightly-above-average student, but he tended to be too chatty to truly learn well. Credulous, he was sometimes the butt of practical jokes but he took them in stride, partially undoing their purpose.
He was always fond of cheap serialized novels published in Zil newspaper, and they actually influenced his career choice. He decided to try out for the Trust, an organization which always appeared incredibly cool in the works he favoured.
Background II - Days of Paper (excerpts from Coop's diary)Show
989 YK Dravago 19 Today is a good day! I finally graduated from the Trust Academy. I can't wait to see where they assign me.
I have decided to keep a diary. In ten, twenty years I can read it again and measure how far I've come. And perhaps rediscover nuggets of wisdom I'll have forgotten in the meantime.
Dravago 21 A friendly reminder: even the watchers are watched.
I don't know what to make of the above. I'm certain I never wrote that, yet it seems to be in my hand. I checked, and no lock has been forced. It has to be them. It feels pretty extraordinary to be part of such an amazing organization, and inspiring too: I hope I can achieve this level of mastery.
Dravago 26 Off I go! First posting is in Zalanberg. I'll be a comptroller or some such. It makes sense: it's just as important to ensure that the cogs of our grand nation are kept well-oiled as it is to embark on those dangerous missions I used to read about. And so it is just as heroic.
Dravago 27 I was all teary-eyed leaving Mom and Pop. I hope they'll be fine.
The countryside is nice, but every hamlet looks the same. I think ours was... better, somehow. More lively, more colourful.
Nymm 3 My work is fascinating. I am intimidated by my coworkers but they seem friendly enough.
Sypheros 10 Did I ever like this? The job is boring! At least I've made some friends. And being independent has its perks. I should not mention it but I stole away to Madame Killy the other day. The girls are delightful!
Sypheros 22 I went to Madame's again. Twice.
I am naming you Evelyn, after my favourite girl.
990 YK Aryth 27 New posting, in Trollanport. I will clerk for someone who clerks for someone on the Council. Pretty exciting stuff.
But they tell me I have to show I can keep secrets, so mum's the word, even for you, Ev'.
Aryth 28 ...but I can still tell you that I got myself a rather fetching hat, to celebrate. It has a feather on top.
Vult 5 The old codger! Made me rewrite the draft four times! All this just to garner influence with The bottom half of this page has been ripped off.
991 YK Zarantyr 8 Ha! I caught whoever's been reading - and writing! - in my precious diary. At least I have a footprint. Quite the ingenuous strategem if I say so myself. More early "traps" than usual to appease their wariness (door, rug in the hall), then a multilayered concoction of mine: they scraped the top but in doing so uncovered the bottom part, which dried up and transferred some colour to the wooden floor.
Zarantyr 9 I noticed new shoes in my cupboard. No clue how they got there but they fit me perfectly.
Oh by the Host, they match the footprint! Quick, let's go ask the neighbours if they saw someone break into my house!
As it turns out, the neighbours have already seen these shoes. They thought them quite fetching. They said I was wearing them at the time. Still one yard ahead, are you? Let me compliment you again!
994 YK Olarune 21 I hear Cyre got destroyed. I can scarcely believe it. How could such a thing happen?
I bought a lovely scarf today, scarlet threaded with gold. It's the latest fashion.
Background III - Days of Blood (excerpts from Coop's diary)Show
995 YK Olarune 1 New posting! The briefing was explicit: I can't reveal the location. Somewhere old and dusty if you must know.
Olarune 12 I feel ill at ease here. For the first time in my life I am surrounded by non-gnomes. I don't think the vampire likes me much.
Really, they should have told me more about this blood-of-vol. How can I accomplish my mission if I'm not informed?
Olarune 14 Note to self: do not say "blood of vol" out loud. They tortured one of their prisoners in front of me to punish me. Worse, they gave me a terrible tongue-lashing.
I won't rise high enough, fast enough in their ranks if I keep making mistakes. I have to be more decisive.
Olarune 25 The Seven protect me! There is blood on my hands. On my face as well, and now on you, dear Evelyn. I had to. I didn't have the choice, did I? They gave me orders, I was to blend in, and you always obey them. They help our nation, they're a part of what makes us great. But then the leader here wanted to test me. Thrice-cursed dwarf! An old man... I had to... He's a zombie now.
Olarune 26 I couldn't sleep last night. I saw his face.
Olarune 27 More blood. Every morsel I eat tastes of iron now. Surely if I obey them I won't have to do it anymore? I pleaded, but the leader, he laughed at me.
Therendor 2 Did I ever diss my old job? Why, oh why??
Therendor 8 Blood... you get used to it. Who knew?
Therendor 10 I was ordinated priest today. I admit to a little pride: it is an achievement of sorts, after all.
Therendor 20 I am learning a lot about undead. They will be satisfied.
Barrakas 1 A new ritual today, one I had never seen. I was the sacrifice - in a symbolic sense naturally. The power of blood is fascinating. I feel more... magnetic than ever, and let's face it charisma wasn't my strong suit up until now.
Rhaan 15 They say the power of the Divinity within manifests in each according to their slants and to their needs.
I discovered I can break objects with my blood and through my will. I wonder what that says about me.
Rhaan 20 They want me to submit to the Bloodtouched Rite (PGtE 23). I can't, I won't! I have to escape.
Rhaan 22 I talked to the vampire Juno. She was surprisingly nice about it, though she did suck the tiniest bit of my blood before she would hear my plea. She said it was fine if I were to leave, provided I spread the word of the Divinity Within. And perhaps pay a small tithe from time to time.
(I paused to scratch the scab.) Finally, I'll have to teach one a new kids. I say "kid" but that halfling is older than me. He looks positively terrified of everything and everyone; I wonder if I was ever like that.
Aryth 1 "Nosomatic": is that even a word?
Aryth 2 Reed's initiation was successful. Juno casually mentioned they would have killed me if he'd failed. Apparently they badly wanted a Jorasco to join their ranks.
Background IV - Days of Lore (excerpts from Coop's diary)Show
996 YK Zarantyr 1 Sweet taste of freedom! I am free! They let me go much later than they had said, but only the end result matters. They offered a skeleton as escort; I declined.
Zarantyr 13 The extensive debriefing is begun... I'm bored and sore (uncomfortable seats).
Zarantyr 22 Temporary assignment: back to clerking.
They want me to keep practicing my talents. Well, if they say so. But who will help me procure cadavers here?
Therendor 4 The 6-month leave I requested to study at Korranberg has been granted. I will see Father and Mother again. But more importantly I will learn so, so much. This fiasco with the Blood can never, never repeat itself. As it is, I feel it may have tarnished my spotless record. They assure me of the contrary, but Again, the bottom half of this page has been ripped off.
Therendor 9 Reunions are bittersweet. They have aged! And they try to shelter me still. They don't know I have become a man.
Eyre 19 I wonder why the official and unofficial accounts of the Trust's history are classified.
I wanted to know more about the men and women who created this glorious institution. There's only a short memo by Pr Flitwick, hardly enough to go by for someone thirsting for knowledge.
Lharvion 11 I managed to get into the vault that contains information about the Blood of Vol. I absorbed as much as I can. I knew this would get noticed end reported so that it would be the only time I would get access to those scrolls.
There is much speculation, but all of it is fascinating. As for why I was sent to them... I do not know, still.
Lharvion 13 Curiosity is encouraged, up to a point only.
The entry above proves my minder is back. (Did (s)he ever leave, though?) Still perfectly sneaky, I have to say. Embrace what you can't fight: this I have learned. Perhaps I should leave candy every time I write an entry? No, that would stain Evelyn.
Background V - Days of Cobblestone (excerpts from Coop's diary)Show
996 YK Sypheros 14 Back into active duty. My next posting will be in Sharn. Apparently my studies make me the perfect candidate. The question is: which studies?
Sypheros 16 "Pawn" is a word that has been on my mind lately. I wonder if it's in relation to chess, or because I love prawns?
Sypheros 26 Sharn is indescribable. Suffocating, cosmopolitan, overwhelming, crowded, majestuous. They took care of me when I arrived. I have a small but cosy place. The district is called Middle Duwa, I think.
Sypheros 27 Ah, the Brelish accent! It's Dura, not Duwa. That's why I didn't remember reading about it anywhere...
Aryth 2 I am barely settled here, but I am beginning a crash course in forensics. I know a lot about cadavers, more than I care to write about here, but I still lack practical experience.
My mentor, a PI, is pretty nice. Even though he'd clearly rather be somewhere else than teaching me.
Aryth 30 Why do people keep saying that in Sharn, you're always surrounded with people but always alone? I like it well enough here, and people seem to like me. Miss Arymilla Marple, the baker, always sets aside some sesame bread for me. Mrs Gluck, the seamstress, offered to try to replicate my mother's design for robes. My last set is getting frayed. Though I am thinking of converting to Sharn fashion. Glamerweave is really marvelous.
I had a drink yesterday evening with the local watchmen, tonight I'm sitting on the Celebration Preparation Committee. I know tons about committees.
Vult 11 The corpse is that of a young Elven woman. Lacerations mark on the nose, right cheek, throat and breasts. Nose broken. Dried blood under her nose, on her left ear (earring ripped off?). Left foot crushed. Position of the body indicates
I used the wrong notebook and subsequently had to start over. I wasn't about to hand them my journal! Who knows what they'd think of my little hobbies?
Applications for the Green Tower are open. I will join because... (the argument is two-pronged) 1) I have the required skills, and there is promise of good careers for people like me, 2) I am a law-abiding gnome. I don't find it very convincing but that's what they gave me.
How coincidental that I have been in Sharn for a little other twelve months, the requisite amount of time.
I met another gnome during the vetting process. He did not seem to know the secret signs - how odd.
3'4'', 60lbs Coop is of average height for a gnome but looks pudgy: he has a fondness for pastries and a dislike of physical exercise. In fact he rides a dog around when he can, to avoid the exertion of walking and because he sweats easily.
He has straight black hair, big brown eyes, bushy eyebrows and a broad nose. He does not look handsome, but he looks amusing, and nice.
He wears all kinds of colors, not always well-assorted; he likes to often change clothes. His holy symbol hangs at his belt but is generally hidden under his cloak, for the religion it represents is not well-liked everywhere.
Coop was an overeager "spy" and he became an involuntary necromancer along the way.
He started out as a blank parchment, which the Trust wrote upon, scratched, erased, then wrote upon again. He was naïve, well-meaning, eager to please and to obey his superiors. Naturally they used and abused him.
He has slowly grown aware that life wasn't rosy and that he ought to defend his own interest, but even his traumatic experience with the Blood of Vol wasn't enough by itself to fully open his eyes.
He has an easy way with people and in turn they tend to like him well enough after he's chatted with them for a little bit. That and his extensive knowledge of topics great and small are the main reason the Trust has some use for him.
He has an irrational distrust of dwarves, likely because of the Blood of Vol cell leader who made his life miserable during many months.
The main driving factor behind his actions is the Law, that is the respect of his orders. Conflicting orders have been a problem in the past, but the Trust's take priority, then the Blood of Vol's, then the Green Tower's. If his very life is at risk he might be willing to make concessions, but he tends to fear his revered yet troublesome patrons more than death. The second main factor is Knowledge: he has amassed much already but always seeks more. This is reflected in his choice of Devotion feats.
In game terms, he started out LN, turned LE during his stay with the Blood of Vol then turned back LN: he doesn't have natural evil tendencies but he will follow even very wrong orders. Part of the inspiration here is Eichmann. Another bit comes from Samwell Tarly in G.R.R.M.'s a Song of Ice and Fire series, a "fat craven".
Coop is a pawn who is just becoming aware of his status. Whether he'll be content to remain at the bottom of the food chain, try to rise or rebel and quit remains to be seen.
The following hooks are only sketches and can be altered to fit the DM's vision. - The Trust: what is their interest in the Green Tower, an operation meant to do law enforcement and investigation? Coop is to report what he sees and learns, but as often he has not been given any indication that he should search for a specific piece of information. His prime allegiance being to the Trust is still compatible with "[having] Sharn’s best interest at heart" since Zilargo and Breland are stalwart allies. Their game is subtle: the Green Tower higher-ups almost certainly know of Coop's involvement with the Trust, because he is a bad liar. The Trust knows that about him, so they know the Tower knows... 1) It could be misdirection to the first degree (another Trust operative is planted where they really want him), or to the second degree (they really expect bumbling Coop to ferret something out)...
2) All gnomes are of interest to the Trust. A detailed file about Dantella Martollo, Sane Marty's mother, recently reached Coop...
3) They are aware of the game the Riedrans played with the ir'Tain, even if they don't know the scope of it. The continued health and independance of the kingdom of Breland is paramount to Zilargo, its traditional ally, so that Delon bears watching.
- The Blood of Vol: they are present in Sharn ; they have contacted Coop but once, to tell him that they knew of him. They can obtain things from him since he'll cave in to pressure. That could allow them to fabricate or hide evidence (he's forensics, he can alter the crime scenes); they haven't done so yet. Just as with the Trust, a thorough interrogation of Coop regarding his necromantic powers would have yielded information about he came by them.
- Korranberg: Coop possesses inside knowledge of the workings of the great library and he is very knowledgeable himself. Morgrave University could become interested in him, which could lead to the gnomes protecting their monopoly fiercely.
An absence of hook: he has no known tie to the House of Scribing.
Luci smiles in acknowledgement of her part in procuring a home base for the cell. "I've arranged for rooms for all of us in Redstone, and taken the liberty of selecting basic furnishings as well as a woman to look after the housekeeping. It's really quite a spacious set of suites, and we're just a few steps away from the best bakery in Upper Dura."
She is clearly pleased with the result of her efforts, and she looks at each of her new coworkers to judge their appreciation. Her eyes widen with surprise when she sees a familiar face. "Sane Marty? How long has it been? Good to see you!"
OOC: I am spending a ridiculous amount of time creating our digs using Google Sketchup (I've been wanting to learn how to use the program anyway and this is a fun way to do it). If anyone has any requests or suggestions for the design, let me know! Will post a link when I'm done.
OOC: Not sure if you want us to all speak in one color or different colors. For now I'll use orange, but I'll change it if you want.
Sane Marty's eyes get large as he enters the luxurious space. He's used to being in expensive areas, but they usually have the dusty inattention to things outside the intellectual sphere that is characterized by academia. His attention is immediately focused on Gerald ir'Tosk, and he's so focused on taking in everything he says that he doesn't actually realize the implications of what was said for half a beat. Just around the same time that Luci speaks.
He looks up at her, embarassed to have not noticed her sooner. Then again, he last saw her a few years ago at Alain's funeral. She looks much more like her brother now, tall and powerful, with the professional bearing and confidence that Alain had radiated. "Luci Kemble?!" He says, pleasure and surprise mixing in his voice. "You've grown! How're you doing? Well, I hope! We're to be teammates and roommates huh? Sounds good to me!" He steps towards her awkwardly, not sure whether to hug her or shake her hand in this very professional setting.