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Post by Myst on Jun 4, 2019 9:25:52 GMT -5
“We all know that electric energy is ubiquitous. By simply shortening or lengthening the wavelengths we are attuned to during our casting, we can catch specific electromagnetic currents for manipulation.”
Guildmaster Twarb, head of the Transmutation School, stands at the front of the large lecture hall of 200 novices, her arms flailing to match her words – her palms are first open and move towards one another to indicate a shortening, then apart to indicate a lengthening and then suddenly they clap together loudly to catch some unseen force. You see a few people seated in the floating chairs ahead of you jump in their seats at the sound, having obviously been asleep or daydreaming.
Unnatural light, emanating from no apparent source, plays on her veiny black, completely bald scalp as her deep brown eyes glance around the room. In your first few weeks here, you have become used to this omnipresent, too-white light which illuminates much of the Mage's Guild. You barely register it as she continues sternly, “once caught, we can resonate it, amplify it, and convert it into pictures, sounds, and other sensory experiences. The basics of Prestidigitation.” Her palms turn outward, pushing the unseen force into the crowd, lifting upward to amplify it, and her fingers wiggle slightly to create a 'sensory experience.'
As she continues her lecture, your attention is interrupted by a whisper behind you.
“I learned this when I was five,” says a dry, bored voice that you recognize as Prince Cale of Gracea, the Prince of your home city. You shared many of the same tutors growing up and, while you have always excelled at matters of the mind, the Prince tended to buy his way through any challenge.
“Mmmhmm,” whispers a female voice dismissively.
“Even with a hefty donation from my father the guild won't let me skip Principles of Casting, though I can outcast every student here.”
"Mmm," answers the woman, clearly unimpressed and trying to pay attention to the lecture. You can practically hear her eye roll.
There is a moment's pause and then a piece of paper suddenly hits you in the back of the head. The Prince snickers behind you. "Hey, Cordon," he whispers loudly. "I hear they closed the necromancy tower. What will you do when you can't raise skeletons to be your friends?" He snickers again at his own joke.
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Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 4, 2019 11:01:33 GMT -5
Cordon closes his eyes, already tired of the entitled brat that is Prince Cale. Just then a glimmer of inspiration hits him, and he opens his eyes again. He turns toward the unimpressed female, adjusting his body so that the prince will not see what follows. Cordon winks at her with a mischievous smile before turning back toward the front of the room. Cordon begins to cast Prestidigitation. His motions are exaggerated, specifically moving to draw the Prince's attention. Cordon uses steady gusts of wind to lift the thrown paper from the floor to float just out of reach in front of the Prince. Holding the paper there, Cordon casts again. Each of the following spells are cast as subtly as possible. Cordon specifically hides his motions from the prince. For this casting Cordon places a temporary symbol on the back of the Prince's clothes. The symbol depicts the prince, wearing a crown of Kale leaves. A small speech bubble reads, "My daddy bought me a new crown!" [/i]'It might only last an hour, but it should be worth a laugh.[/i] Cordon thinks with a smirk. A third casting follows, this time creating a farting noise from around the princes seat area. The final casting, a scent of rotten eggs creeps slowly from the princes seat in a ten foot radius. With that done, the distraction paper drops lightly onto the princes desk.
Rolls: Slight of Hand 16+3=19, 14+3=17, and 19+3=22. (to cast the three effects without being observed by the prince.)
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Post by Myst on Jun 5, 2019 8:22:08 GMT -5
You glance back toward the voices, and see both the woman and Prince Cale two rows back and a few seats to your left. As you wink at the woman, you can't help but notice how stunning she is, despite her threadbare, plain grey novice robes. Her long black hair is braided behind her, but a few wisps have fallen out, draping across high cheekbones. Her large green eyes open wide at your wink and her plump rosebud lips part slightly in surprise.
In contrast, the Prince's novice robe is in pristine condition. He sits beside the woman, his handsome, but plain face still twisted in a sneer. He has a hand, bejewelled with gaudy rings, resting on the woman's knee possessively and his other hand, also bejewelled, sweeps through his short wavy blond hair in annoyance as his blue eyes glance over at her to gauge her reaction at your wink.
You cast your first Prestidigitation spell with exaggerated movements that draw attention from nearby students – and likely, from the Prince. You can hear him snort in amusement behind you as you know the paper is rising toward him. As you begin casting your second spell, you can hear a crinkle of paper and his “gah” as he attempts to grab it and it flies just out of his reach.
But you ignore him, once again murmuring the command words for Prestidigitation that reveal cords of energy for you to manipulate. For a second time, the world is full of glowing blue strings that connect the students, the chairs, the ceiling, the air... everything – some strands are thick, some thin, and they all seem to have different wavelengths as they vibrate around you, buzzing with magical energy, but invisible to everyone but you. A few students behind the Prince begin to chuckle in amusement at the symbol on his back, drawing attention from a larger crowd.
You whisper the command words again and again, keeping the electrical cords visible as you weave them with your fingertips into your desired pattern – pulling certain wavelengths from the cords of energy and amplifying them, converting them to physical sensation and centralizing them on the spot where the Prince sits with his hand on the lady's knee.
The farting sound and smell that ensue draw disgusted sounds from students behind you - “ewwws” and “grosses.” You can hear students near the Prince frantically rising and moving across the crowded aisle away from the Prince, bumping into students and apologizing as they make their way out of the mess of floating chairs. The blue pattern of wavelengths disappear as the spell-weaving fades from your concentration.
At that point you realize that most of the class is looking in the Prince's direction; except for a few students who saw you cast the spells – them and Guildmaster Twarb, who is now silent and still and locks eyes with you. The paper hits the ground as you release it from your spell, and the noise of paper on floor rings loud - and awkward - in the silence of the hall.
“Mr. Cordon Salbar,” her stern voice rings out, reminding you of a scolding mother – except that this is the Guildmaster of Transmutation and her voice carries a far more dangerous tone. “You will see me after class.” Her hands gesture to point directly beside you, almost waving your forward. You can feel the tenseness in the air, and for a second, you imagine the blue strings as tension rather than energy surrounding you, created solely by the Professor's glare.
“As I was saying,” - her eyes are still on you as she continues her lecture - “the command words for Prestidigitation will be the same every time. Revelatur caerula fluctus.” Her words are spoken with a precise and familiar accent and cadence and her hands flail in their usual expressiveness. Finally, her eyes leave yours as she is clearly admiring the same cords of blue energy that just faded from your vision. “However, the movements of you hands will be different every time, depending on which cords you are manipulating, their location, and the pattern you want them to form.”
"Moron," you hear the Prince whisper behind you.
Guildmaster Twarb continues from there moving onto how to identify which cords to choose for which magical sensations and some basic patterns to weave. Students around you scratch frantically on papers trying to catch everything.
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Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 5, 2019 9:02:12 GMT -5
Cordon stands beside his seat, maintaining eye contact with the Guildmaster. He offers her a polite nod, and announces to the room, "My apologies Guildmaster Twarb, it will not happen again." Turning to the room, Cordon addresses the students, "I apologize for interrupting your lesson, please forgive me." Cordon is actually sorry for disrupting the lesson, and is more than willing to face the consequences of his actions. He also feels that is was more than worth it to set that lettuce head back a notch. The Prince thinks the fart was the revenge, and likely doesn't know about the drawing. Cordon smiles to himself, thinking 'That man has about as much brains as a head of lettuce.' Retaking his seat, Cordon spends the rest of the lesson focused on what the Guildmaster is teaching, even though the Principles of Casting were covered by his tutors back home. After the lesson, Cordon maintains his seat until after the Prince walks down toward the door, before heading down to wait for the Guildmaster's punishment. While the students are crossing in front of him, blocking him from view of the Prince or the Guildmaster he takes a moment to whisper a few messages. The messages say the following, "Check out Prince Lettucehead's back." He sends the messages to that blabbermouth Cathy, that popular girl Susan, and to Jerry who always seems to be joking around. 'There, that aught to spread that name throughout the guild by mid-morning.' When Cordon joins the Guildmaster, he is all humility. Once again expressing how sorry he is, and how he will not let it happen again during her class.
Persuasion 13+2=15
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Post by Myst on Jun 6, 2019 9:04:52 GMT -5
Despite having learned this material before, Guildmaster Twarb is fascinating. A naturally gifted teacher with an obvious passion for her craft, she always underscores her words with appropriate but comically large gestures. She is eloquent and knowledgeable. You even manage to pick up a few pointers about how to select better wavelengths to manipulate to create more realism in your magical creations.
As you make your way to the Guildmaster's lectern at the front of the class, you are jostled to and fro by the milling crowd of students, many of them excitedly and loudly reviewing the material of the class. Cathy, a short haired, rather plump girl, makes eye contact with you and smiles mischievously. Holding her eyes, you speak the command words for Message.
The world is suddenly overlaid with brainwaves. You can see the brains of each person pulsating like real-time x-rays underneath each person's skull. You whisper the message to yourself, recording the pattern of neural firing in your auditory cortex; a magical snapshot of what a brain does when it hears those words. You speak a second set of command words and raise your walking cane, aiming it towards Cathy, which you know will transmit and amplify the message. You can see her cortex register the exact pattern your brain created. You know she is hearing your message, as if she had been standing right next to you. Her smile deepens and you can see her whisper something into another girl's ear. The two of them giggle and make their way out of the lecture hall.
Then you cast Message again, this time towards Jerry. Acting as if you had given him a sacred command to spread the word, the eccentric halfling with orange hair and golden-yellow eyes raises his stout hand in salute with a mockingly serious face. “I have work to do, boss,” you hear in your mind. He ducks under the dress of a female student and she squeals in indignation before he runs off, avoiding the slap the angry girl directs his way.
Finally, you aim your message at Susan, a tiefling woman with bright pink spiky hair and lips of the same color. You can see her brain register the Message, but she only glances in your direction with brows furrowed for a moment before immediately returning her attention to the gaggle of people surrounding her, all vying for her recognition like sycophants. She says something and they all laugh before she throws you another uneasy glance.
Most of the crowd now gone and standing next to the lectern, you watch as Guildmaster Twarb sorts through her notes, looking for something. She grabs a small stack of papers, fastened together – an essay that you recognize as your own. “I saw the weaves you created today when I casted Prestidigitation.” Her hands continue to gesture, as if still teaching. “The energy signatures remain for a short time after casting, as I'm sure you're aware. Three weaves held simultaneously. Four castings. All of them different sensory experiences. That requires a great deal of concentration and... mastery.” Her brown eyes look up towards yours and a small smile of glistening white teeth – all the more white next to her chocolatey skin – tugs at the corners of her mouth.
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Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 6, 2019 18:32:16 GMT -5
Cordon takes note of the new material, mentally opening his notes on the spell and penning in the new material that Guildmaster Twarb has provided. With his messages delivered he waits patiently for the Guildmaster to gather his essay. "I should have assumed you would be able to detect my tampering with the weave during your lesson. Again, I apologize for the disruption." Cordon, doesn't lower his eyes, but his voice is sincere. He's used to meeting people on equal terms, even if they are of higher rank or social standing. "Mastery?" Cordon raises an eyebrow, "I appreciate the compliment, especially from you Guildmaster Twarb. I would love to further discuss the weave with you anytime."
Cordon leans his weight on his walking stick in front of himself, "If I may, Descartes described the limits of Prestidigitation as three non-instantaneous effects active simultaneously. I kept a paper moving, created a noise and accompanying smell. Lastly I created a symbol, which I am maintaining even now. As of yet I have not managed to create even three non-instantaneous effects at once."
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Post by Myst on Jun 6, 2019 19:16:33 GMT -5
"Ah. The smell must have been strong. It lingered so long I thought it was held while you held the paper afloat and drew the symbol," again, the corner of her mouth raises like she wants to laugh. She gives you a sidelong glance. "And even so, yes, I would call that mastery. Besides, your essay on Manipulating the Patterns of Electromagnetic Currents to Create Idiosyncratic Sensations was masterful." She waves your essay in the air before placing it atop the rest of her papers. Then she rubs her bald head round and round a couple times in thought before she continues, more seriously. "I want you to take the tests for any classes you feel you have already mastered." She begins gathering the rest of her papers and gestures to you, indicating that you should follow her out of the classroom. She moves towards the door.
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Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 6, 2019 20:50:15 GMT -5
"Uh, okay. If you think I'm ready then I will take the tests. I wasn't aware that I could take a test to skip the classes." Cordon follows behind the Guildmaster. While they walk Cordon smiles at her, refreshing his own enjoyment at the joke he played at the princes expense. "I get the feeling you would like to hear the full story of what happened, yes?" Assuming she agrees, or at least doesn't disagree Cordon continues, "So Prince Lettucehead. Erm, sorry, I mean Prince Cale. Anyway, he beaned me in the back of the head with that paper you saw me gusting about." Cordon shrugs, "I felt like he needed to be taken down a notch. So I distracted him with the paper so I could draw this on the back of his robes." Cordon intones, "Revelatur caerula fluctus." Remaking the symbol on any nearby surface as they walk. Once the Guildmaster has seen the symbol he lets it fade. "Then I added the fart and the stink for good measure."
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Post by Myst on Jun 7, 2019 8:46:11 GMT -5
Guildmaster Twarb nods slightly at your agreement to take the final exams for the courses which you have already mastered. When asked if she wants to hear the full story of what happened, the Guildmaster remains silent and you recount your story as you follow her through the halls of the guild.
The classrooms remain to your left, doorway after doorway interrupted by the occasional hallway that leads further into the Guild. To your right, massive windows at least twenty feet tall and lacking a glass barrier look onto the inner gardens and allow sunlight to filter into the building. Ivy climbs through the windows, attaching to the inner walls. The perfumed scent of lilac, roses and jasmine waft through them and into the hallways on a warm summer breeze. Every so-often an archway leads directly onto the garden terrace and you can see members come and go through them, sometimes even stopping to pick a thorn from a rosebush or a twig off an elm tree, pocketing them into a component pouch. The effect is that the massive hallways feel almost entirely outdoors. Still, while a number of students and members mutter spells around you while they finger components and practice spellcasting motions, the halls are oddly devoid of actual magic. In your time at the Guild, you've learned that an anti-magic field prevents castings outside of classes, personal quarters, and the towers. The magical suppressant was created after a quite a few unfortunate incidents some years ago.
You finish your story and the Guildmaster stops in front of a window, putting her hands on your shoulders and spinning you with surprisingly strong hands so that she can look down at you, directly in the eyes. “You are suspended,” she begins, her face hard. “You are not to attend classes for the rest of the week – three days. You are clever and I daresay one day you will be very powerful, Cordon. That makes it even more important that you show restraint. You interrupted my classroom because a boy you didn't like threw a paper at you and mocked you.” Her arms motion so fiercely and angrily that a few passerbys glance your way before quickening their step to escape the Guildmaster's wrath. She takes a deep, steadying breath before continuing, “that being said, Prince Cale is a twat. His father tried to bribe me to advance him to apprentice immediately. Insulting.” If Guildmaster Twarb looked angry before, she looks even more angry now, her veiny black scalp actually managing to redden. She looks like she might spit on the ground in disgust, but manages to rein in her anger, her eyes softening at you and the small, almost imperceptible smile returns to the corner of her mouth. “I have had a lot on my mind lately. I may... forget... to add the suspension to your permanent record but... I have a favor to ask of you.”
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Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 7, 2019 11:01:28 GMT -5
Cordon simply nods when the Guildmaster proclaims suspension, he was prepared for that, and willing to accept it as well. When the Guildmaster has finished speaking, Cordon begins with a smile, "Firstly I appreciate your praise, I wasn't sure what to expect when I came here, but have been pleasantly surprised at how much knowledge I have acquired. Second, I agree on all counts. I agree that a three day suspension is more than fair." He carefully avoids talking about her forgetting to add it to his record. "I agree that the prince is a twat, and that while here that boy is a novice just like the rest of us." Cordon thumbs the copper novice band on his left little finger as he says that. "I also agree to your favour, whatever that may be. Although, I wouldn't mind a lot more detail on that front." He laughs a little then, glowing from the praise and all in all pretty happy with how this is turning out.
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Post by Myst on Jun 10, 2019 9:27:51 GMT -5
“Indeed,” Guildmaster Twarb says simply as she nods at you. She then begins patting herself down, searching for something in her pockets. Suddenly, her eyes widen and she snaps her fingers, as if she suddenly remembered where she left the thing and she bends over, pulling up her dress just far enough to reveal a knee-high boot underneath her robe. As she bends over to reach inside her boot, you see a small tattoo at the nape of her neck – a tattoo which is only visible because of her shaved head. “Here it is,” she rises back up, her tattoo disappearing behind the hood of her robes. She is holding a very flat, small metal box in her hands; hands that are veiny with middle-age. A Platinum ring engraved with the intricate Transmutation pattern adorns her pinky finger. The silvery metal box – only a couple of inches long and maybe an inch wide, glints in the sunlight as she opens it, revealing a folded piece of paper. She hands the paper to you and then snaps the box shut, shoving it into a random pocket. Then, the Guildmaster leans down towards you, and her voice is low and quiet as she begins. Her hands even clutch together to stop herself from motioning with them but they shake ever so slightly. “I need you to procure some oils for me. They are fairly difficult to find, but I suspect with your connections you can make it happen,” she murmurs. Concern is clear in her darting eyes, her furrowed brows and in her clenched jaw. Her wide nose almost touches your face she has moved so close and her breath is warm on your cheek, smelling faintly of honey as she whispers, “Cordon, this must be done without anyone knowing what you are doing and who you are doing it for – not your father, not a fellow novice, not the damn love of your life – no one. The list is written in Abyssal to prevent it from being read easily. Are you able to decipher that language?”
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Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 10, 2019 11:00:04 GMT -5
Cordon watches the Guildmaster pat herself down, raising an eyebrow at the tattoo on the back of her neck. 'Hrm, I never thought her the type. I wonder what else she might be into...' Cordon cocks his head to one side as Twarb begins to raise her dress, letting his eyes trace the surface of her freshly revealed flesh. He doesn't even look away if she catches him looking. Just a nod of approval, and another smile, this one a little more friendly than before. As the dress falls back into place and the tattoo vanishes above his eye line he once again focuses his eyes on hers, his lecherous thoughts about age and fine wine fading as she shows him the silvery metallic box. Cordon takes the list, and tucks in into a pocket to be read later when he is alone. "Common, Gnome, Elven, Dwarven, and Draconic." He says each word in the language that it is named for, "Abyssal is not a language I have mastered. I do happen to have quite a way with languages, so I'm certain that I could figure it out during the next three days without classes..." He trails off for a moment adding one of his boyish smiles, "But if you happen to have a scroll of comprehend languages, and the required materials to copy it into my spellbook I could have it taken care of much quicker.
Persuasion 13+2=15 (to get the spell from the Guildmaster, even if she knows I can use scribes insight) Deception 16+2=18 (Cordon can effectively comprehend languages via Scribes Insight)
Scribe’s Insight: You can cast comprehend languages once with this trait, and you regain the ability to do so when you finish a long rest. Intelligence is your spellcasting ability for it.
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Post by Myst on Jun 11, 2019 8:39:23 GMT -5
Guildmaster Twarb seems so engrossed in searching for the box she doesn't notice your eyes which look over her exposed leg hungrily.
In response to your request for the scroll, she says, "there's no time for all that. The timeline will be tight as it is." Her nervousness is replaced by annoyance and she waves her hand as if swatting away your excuses like a fly. She holds her hand out expectantly and her eyes glance at your pocket which contains the list.
Assuming you hand it over, she reaches into another of her pockets, and grabs a stray pen, while she glances around the hall to ensure no one else is looking. She begins writing on the list with her right hand while shielding the contents of the note from view with the top of her left hand. "This will do," she huffs out in annoyance as she writes against the stone wall before carefully folding the paper once more and handing it back to you.
Then she stands straight and begins smoothing the folds of her robes, gathering what propriety she has left. Her regular demeanor returns with each pass of her hands down her robes. "Cordon," she says sternly, "I hope you understand that your suspension is a gift. Hopefully Prince Cale feels that this suspension is retribution enough. Clifton is a dangerous place and there are many ways a simple prank could go wrong." Her hands begin to move again, accentuating each of her points. Finally, her finger waves back and forth in the air as if scolding you like a mother. But, her face softens and the small smile returns once more. "And... thank you for your help," she says quietly.
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Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 11, 2019 9:36:40 GMT -5
Cordon covers the pocket that contains the list with his hand, “I will figure it out in a timely fashion.” He pauses to look her dead in the eyes, “It will be done, you have my word.” He holds her eye for a moment to drive home how sincere he is being.
Once the Guildmaster composed herself, and begins warning him off, Cordon puts on the appearance of meekness. More for the benefit of those walking past than for the Guildmaster herself. He can’t help but have a little smile hiding at the corner of his mouth, but he keeps that side to the wall.
Cordon nods at the mention of gifts, “Your gift is two fold, and the seriousness of the situation is not beyond me.” Another cocky smile crosses his face, “But if I turn up with a blade in my ribs, do me a favour and look into the prince for me would you?” He says it like it’s a joke, but the laughter has left his eyes at that. “His smile returns to his eyes moments later as he says quietly, “It is my sincere pleasure.”
Assuming she is done, Cordon makes his way back to his room to read the note, and get things in motion for the guildmaster.
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Post by Myst on Jun 11, 2019 14:22:23 GMT -5
After a nod of dismissal from the Guildmaster, you make your way down one of the halls leading into the Guild proper. Your footsteps echo on the beige and brown marbled floors as you pass through hallways lined with panels of dark cherry wood, passing groups of people. You also pass multiple oil paintings of famous mages; underneath them hang plaques denoting each mage's name and station - Tenser, Mordenkainen, and others. A couple of male novices whisper in quiet voices in front of one painting and you can see one of the boys hand something to the other (perception check to see what it is).
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Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 11, 2019 18:51:50 GMT -5
Cordon glances across the placards beneath the portraits, noting the names and the likenesses. You never know when you will encounter something that they left behind in the world, and a little detail such as their signet, or the writing around a staff can come in handy. Tasha was one of his favourites. Anyone that can make a spell that forces your opponent to laugh uncontrollably, is someone that Cordon would like to spend a great deal of time with. 'Tasha sounds like a girls name. I wonder if she's attractive?'
Cordon is pulled out of his imaginings about Tasha actually looks like, with or without her clothing, by the boys passing things to one another. He wasn't quite fast enough to catch a glimpse at whatever they had, but that's never stopped Cordon before. Cordon walks right up to the boys with all the pomp and circumstance a person of his noble heritage can muster. Poking at the boy that is now holding the object in question with his walking stick, Cordon says, "You there, what is that in your hands?" If anyone makes a move to leave, the walking stick pokes into the wall (careful of the artwork) in front of them, and they get a terse, "Not so fast now."
Rolls: Go go Position of Privilege!
Perception 9+0=9
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Post by Myst on Jun 11, 2019 19:50:48 GMT -5
The boy who peddled the package looks towards you, puffing up his broad shoulders and pulling back his grey hood to reveal an angry glare from almost-black eyes that look up and down your fine attire with a sneer. Most human men seem tall to you, but this kid is huge. Both his hair and beard are black and cut so short they leave a mere shadow across his head and face. He flexes and raises his fist and steps toward you - the effect is quite menacing.
The boy holding the package pulls back the hood of his 'standard-issue novice robe' and his eyes go wide upon seeing you. He gently pushes away your walking stick and runs a hand through his messy black hair exclaiming, “Holy damned Pelor. You're the guy who cast that bloody fart in Twarb's class! That was bloody hilarious!” He laughs heartily, his small frame shaking and tears running down his freckled face. “The... smell of it... cleared the whole bloody room,” he manages to add through his laughter. He wipes the tears away, beaming at you in admiration. “Arturo, this guy isn't gonna rat.”
The huge kid – Arturo – looks back and forth between the two of you, clearly unsure what to do.
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Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 11, 2019 20:26:42 GMT -5
Cordon pokes his walking stick at Arturo's clenched fist, "You best put that away boy, before you get yourself into trouble." Cordon doesn't say it in a threatening manner, more of a threatening a mage within the walls of the mages guild is a bloody terrible idea. "Besides, like your mate here said, this guy isn't gonna rat" Cordon does his best to impersonate the kid, while he gestures toward himself with his free hand, thumb extended.
Persuasion 15+2=17
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Post by Myst on Jun 12, 2019 9:50:14 GMT -5
There are few tense moments as Arturo glares at your walking stick and then back at you, grinding his teeth as he stares you down, clearly furious. But when you impersonate his companion – and do a decent job of being a little funny about it – he slowly lowers his fist, his eyes never leaving yours.
The other boy steps in the middle of you two like a mediator, laughing nervously. He lightly places a hand on your walking stick to lower it. Then, with shifty eyes, he glances back and forth down the hallway and you can't help but notice how disheveled he looks. This boy's hair is uncut, his novice robes have a couple of stains down the front of them and his one shoe has a hole where his big toe peeks out. The boy nods in satisfaction when he sees no one nearby and slowly opens the palm of his right hand. In it are three small white pills.
“These things are the bloody bomb... Caldeen, I think Twarb called you?” He continues without waiting for you to respond, his speech a little too quick to be normal. “It's called 'Spark.' You can get it in dust form but I don't like snorting. The nosebleeds give you away. I take these babies before Every. Bloody. Test.” His excitement is obvious and he runs his hand through his messy black hair again. You can see beads of sweat forming at his hairline, perhaps in anticipation of his fix. “Man you can concentrate – like really, truly bloody concentrate – when you take Spark.”
You may make a straight intelligence check to see what you know about the drug.
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Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 12, 2019 10:31:43 GMT -5
Cordon does not intimidate easily, and simply stares back at the much larger fellow with a bored expression. Once his line of sight is blocked by the boy with the tongue of a sailor, he looks over the boy. 'Disgraceful.' Cordon thinks, looking over the state of the boy. Messy hair, dirty clothes and a hole in his shoe. Cordon remembers that magic doesn't work in the halls, and plays off of the boys desire to keep things hidden by suggesting, "Let's move this along to one of those meeting rooms down the hall."
As soon as they're all in the room Cordon turns to the potty mouthed student and shakes his head, once again intoning "Revelatur caerula fluctus" With a quick gesture, the boy's hair looks cleaner and more orderly as if it had been both washed and combed out. The gesture carries down to the student's clothes, and stains and wrinkles vanish. "Cordon." Cordon interrupts as the boy says his name wrong, "Sorry, I found the stains on your shirt distracting." He says it lightly, but enough of his disgust shows through in his tone, "I can do nothing for the hole in your shoe, but may I suggest looking into the Mending cantrip?"
When he shows the pills Cordon raises an eyebrow, "Spark eh?" Cordon thinks for a moment about what little he knows of illicit substances, but nothing about Spark really jumps out at him. "Sounds useful for all night research sessions. I will keep it in mind. Personally, I'd be more interested in something that dulls one's ability to concentrate." Cordon smiles up at Arturo, once again pointing at him with his walking stick, "How about it boy? Do you have anything like that?"
Rolls: 3+4 int= 7 or (+7 Arcana =10) To know about the drugs.
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Post by Myst on Jun 17, 2019 9:06:15 GMT -5
As soon as you see the pills in the skinny boy's hand, you suggest moving to somewhere more private. Without waiting for a response from the two boys, you make your way further down the hall. The freckled, skinny boy follows directly behind you conspicuously glancing back and forth looking guilty. Yet behind him, Arturo seems completely at ease, his hood remaining down and his hard face blank. It's not far until you reach your destination. You stand in a grand hall that extends four stories up. It is filled with railinged ledges that lead down more hallways and red-carpeted stairs that weave upwards through intricately carved cherry wooden archways. You guess that the wooden railings and archways are elven in design, based on their curved, almost plant like patterns. A few other mages meander along the stairs and ledges but they seem to be going about their own business and you are mostly ignored. You point directly ahead with your walking cane towards a cherry wooden door on the first floor to indicate your destination. On the door is a plaque that reads "Meeting Room C5." You quickly open the door and direct the others into the room.
The room itself is clearly - as labeled - a meeting room. There is a plain but finely crafted rectangular cherry wooden table at the center of the room and around it, twelve hard wooden chairs tucked neatly into it. Despite the usual white light that emanates from no where in particular, a brass chandelier hangs from the ceiling over the center of the table (though it's candles are unlit) and a hearth sits cold on one of the walls. On a wooden side table is a silver serving tray filled with an empty crystal decanter and a series of delicate crystal whiskey glasses.
As soon as the door closes behind you, the boy begins excitedly blabbering. Half paying attention to him, you say the command words and the blue waves appear once more. You pull on the blue strings that attach the dirt to the boy, tugging them off of him deftly. "...you can get it in dust form but I don't like snorting," you hear out of the corner of your mind, as you weave the dirt into energy itself, mimicking the patterns that Guildmaster Twarb had mentioned during her lecture today. The dirt now energy, it floats in the air around you in pretty blue waves before the blue strings disappear as the spell fades. "Truly bloody concentrate when you take Spark," he finishes.
"Cordon," you correct the boy. "Sorry, I found the stains on your shirt distracting..."
The boy looks down at his clean clothes as if suddenly realizing that you had been weaving a spell. His eyes grow wide once more. "Bloody Pelor, Cordon. That is a bloody useful trick. Mending would be bloody excellent. I could save the money I have to spend on new shoes." His eyes grow even wider and he gasps with excitement as a thought occurs to him, "then, I could probably afford more Spark." He looks up at you with a large smile spread across his freckled face. He seems oblivious to your disgust.
"Spark, eh?" You continue. You haven't heard of it before, but perhaps you just aren't familiar with it's street name.
When addressed, Arturo, who is now inspecting the crystal decanter on the side table, looks towards you with a greasy smile. "I could certainly arrange for something like that." Arturo begins speaking with the automated tone of a well-rehearsed pitch, though his voice is gruff and lacks the friendliness of a masterful salesperson: "We have some tranquilizers that you place at the tip of a needle. A single poke is all you need. That will give you a strong relaxing effect. If you're looking for something more mellow and... natural... you may want to try a pipe with some Bhanga. Is is a plant grown in these regions, though not entirely legal," he continues, picking up the decanter and turning it over to inspect it before placing it back onto the silver tray.
(Using your Arcana check from before) You recognize Bhanga. Though illegal, it is well-known and surprisingly widely used by the peasantry in Gracea, though many in high society frown on it's use.
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Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 17, 2019 17:22:41 GMT -5
“Ask around the class, I’m sure one of the other students has seen the usefulness of such a spell.” Cordon tells the boy off handedly, his attention never having left Arturo. Cordon shakes his head at the mention of a tranquilizer, “I do not require sedation. More something to calm the mind. An Anti-Spark if you will.” Cordon pulls out the chair at the head of the table and takes a seat. He lays his walking stick across the table, resting his hands upon it gingerly.
Glancing toward the other boy again, “I thank you for the introduction, and for vouching for me with Arturo here. If you need a bit of sprucing up from time to time, perhaps we can arrange such for a Protector a casting?” Once he replies, Cordon adds, “Thanks again. I can take it from here.” By way of dismissing the boy. Ever wary of scandals that might bleed back to his family.
Once the boy has left, Cordon once again focuses his attention on Arturo, both to make sure he has not stolen anything from this room and to begin negotiations. “Bhanga sounds much more like what I would be interested in trying out. If the product you provide is of the highest quality, I might even require your services regularly.” Cordon drums his fingers across his walking stick, “Do you happen to have a sample on hand?”
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Post by Myst on Jun 18, 2019 8:03:32 GMT -5
"That would be great Caldeen... I mean Cordon," the skinny boy answers. "We could..." Before he can continue, you quickly interrupt to dismiss him. The boy looks back and forth between you and Arturo, looking unsure for a moment, one hand fidgeting with the other as if he can't keep still. "Piss off, Grace," says Arturo commandingly. Arturo's eyes meet yours and hold them. The skinny boy, Grace, seems to jump in place - you can see it out of the corner of your eye - and wordlessly Grace makes his way to the door, closing it softly behind him. You can hear his footsteps on the marble floors become more and more distant as he withdraws.
Arturo leans against the side table casually once the footsteps are out of earshot. You glance towards the decanter and the crystal glasses but all seem to be neatly placed on the silver tray, nothing amiss. "I don't carry product with me unless it's being bought. No need to take risks that may not pay off." He looks you up and down once more, eyes lingering on your rings, on your fine walking stick, and on the embroidery on your clothing, a greasy smile on his face. "I do deliver though. If you just tell me which room you stay in within the guild..."
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Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 18, 2019 21:41:08 GMT -5
Cordon nods to Arturo, "There is wisdom in your choice not to carry around unsold product." Slipping back out of the chair, Cordon carefully pushes in the chair, "I will track you down when I'm ready to procure some Bhanga, but at the moment I require my focus so I must resist for now." Cordon actually sounds regretful at the loss of a new experience, but the Guildmaster has set him a task and he's already dallied too long. "If I may ask a question of you?" Cordon asks rhetorically, before proceeding with his question, "Are you freelance, or do you belong to an organization?" Once Arturo has given his response, Cordon gives him another nod, "I thought so. Good day to you my good man, I look forward to our future dealings." Cordon makes his way to the door, turning back to give the fellow another stern nod before making his way back to his private room.
(Tangent complete! You never know what a PC is going to lock on to, eh DM?)
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Post by Myst on Jun 19, 2019 8:20:47 GMT -5
Arturo's eyes narrow at your question. He responds gruffly with, “an entire organization.” Somehow he makes that simple statement sound like a veiled threat; a subtle reminder that the criminal activity that you witnessed is to be kept silent. As you begin to leave, Arturo's hand absently rises to stroke the five o clock shadow along his cheek, as if he's nervous about letting you go. Yet, he makes no move to stop you. “Grace will know where to find me,” he adds when you turn back to give him a nod.
Having exited into the grand hallway, you make your way to the stairs. You can't help but run your hand along the railings admiringly, feeling the quality craftsmanship of it as your hand passes over the intricate carved designs. You pass grand stone sculptures, fine furniture, and over-the-top elaborate flower arrangements that flaunt the guild's affluence on your journey up. Your private quarters - the best money can buy here in the guild - is situated on the top level. It's entrance is on a private ledge overlooking the grand hall below. The door to your quarters opens before you can insert your key.
"Good to see you, sir." Delbert says cheerfully. Your gnome butler stands before you, offering a slight bow of his head and opening the door further with his white gloved hands. He wears a full tuxedo and he adjusts his monocle with his free hand for a moment. His monocle's mechanism whizzes and whirrs at his touch, pieces of the monocle itself spinning in tandem with the sound, as Delbert steps aside deftly to allow you entrance. You doubt his British accent is real - the man has never really left Gracea until now - but standing before you with his balding white haired head and perfectly manicured attire, his accent certainly fits his elegant style. Elegant and loyal. Delbert insisted on accompanying you here.
A sitting room and library compiled into one, the room beyond Delbert is both handsome and expensive. A leather couch and overstuffed beige armchair are placed around a massive hearth that displays a newly lit, dancing fire. Above the hearth hangs an oil painting of the many-columned, world-famous Colosseum of Gracea. Wooden bookshelves line almost every inch of the remaining walls, carved in the same elven patterns seen in the outer hall, and, in a corner to your right is a large, intricately carved wooden writing desk. A couple of doors lead from the room into Delbert's private chambers and your own.
"You are late, sir. I was beginning to worry. Shall I get you your usual tea?" Delbert dotes.
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Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 19, 2019 12:16:42 GMT -5
"Ah Delbert my good man, it is good to be home." Cordon says as he enters the room, pausing only long enough for Delbert to remove his jacket. "I'm afraid I have some extra curricular activities to attend to this afternoon. Would you be a dear and bring me a light snack and some tea?" Cordon crosses into his on personal chambers, not bothering to close the door behind himself. He crosses to the center of the room, drawing out the Guildmaster's paper as he walks. "Well Twarb, let's see what you're up to shall we?" He murmurs as his walking stick darts. He intones, "Lingua capit" as the colour drains from his eyes, replaced instead with a featureless white. The words on the page blur, and when they return to focus they've been translated into something he understands. He stands there reading down the list, trying to figure out why the Guildmaster needed him to gather these materials. Where he's going to collect each one. Most importantly, what would all these materials be used for in the end. Once Delbert arrives, Cordon stows the now memorized note and lays on his bed looking up at the artwork on the ceiling. "Thank you Master Coaltrin." He raises his hands in surrender, Delbert hates being called master even if it's custom here in Clifton. "Thank you Delbert, that will be all for now." Cordon sips his tea, and nibbles on his snack while he contemplates his next move. My idea of Cordon's room. Just not filled with ladies... yet. Feel free to embellish.
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Post by Myst on Jun 20, 2019 9:54:25 GMT -5
Delbert offers a small bow and a “very good sir” before hanging your cloak and making his way towards his quarters, softly closing the door behind him so as not to disturb you.
You step into your bedchambers, crossing the opulent black and white tiled floor towards the large circular ottoman-bed at the centre of the room, it's luxurious minty velvet inviting your caress. The room itself is a tasteful blend of Gracean and Guild design: though the domed room is circular in Gracean architectural fashion, the room is bordered by archways carved into the wall similar to the archways in the hall outside; and while most of the archways house pillowed, semi-circular divans, some contain shelving in the same cherry wood of the guild, displaying spell components and books. Though the thurible's that hang from the ceiling are unlit, the smell of jasmine from previous burnings has infused the room. You register that smell as you unfold Guildmaster's Twarb's list and cast your spell. Your eyes scan the creased note, written in Guildmaster Twarb's tidy scrawl:
1 oz Champaca Oil 1/3 oz Tubrose Extract 1/2 oz Frangipani Distillate 1 oz Bhanga Essence 3/4 oz Agarwood Concentrate
Bhanga Essence would be easy enough – perhaps Arturo could obtain some. Champaca Oil is another one you are familiar with – it has an exotic, floral, citrusey scent that is prized in the prostitution industry and is a natural aphrodisiac when massaged onto the body. You've been lucky enough to experience that oil a few times. Tuberose Extract is used as an expensive perfume by the nobility around the empire. This list certainly is expensive, you think to yourself. If you had to guess, these oils might total 1,000gp or more.
Your musings are interrupted by the sound of Delbert's footsteps in the adjacent room and you quickly place the list in your pocket and lay yourself upon the ottoman, your fingers idly stroking the rich velvet. Delbert enters the room holding a golden tray with a perfect white tea set complete with golden Gracean patterning, and a small matching plate with an assortment of fine cheeses and fruits. “Here you are, sir,” he says, placing the tray beside you. His feet shift side to side uncomfortably when you call him Master and his monacle whirs and spins as if mirroring that discomfort. “Of course, sir,” he says with another small bow and kind smile before departing.
You lay upon the ottoman, your fingers still caressing the soft velvet and glance up towards the ceiling as you consider the other oils on the list and for what purposes they may be used. For the umpteenth time, you take a moment to admire the mural that you had personally commissioned on the ceiling itself. Bordered in golden trim, the ceiling depicts the soft beauty of everyday life in Gracea. Much of that beauty contains hints of subtle eroticism: a garden with a half-elven woman in the nude, hiding her form behind a decorative column; a naked dwarven man, dripping with sweat and hammering a finely crafted sword, the anvil hiding his package; the rear-view of a human woman kneeling naked in prayer, her hair flowing down her back towards the top of her buttocks; ladies and gentlmen of various races bathing in the bath houses of Gracea, the steam blurring their images. It takes a moment to bring your mind back to the task at hand.
You may make a K. Medicine or K. Nature check for the other two oils. Also make a K. Arcana check to figure out what these oils might be for.
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Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 20, 2019 12:36:23 GMT -5
"Today, you are my favourite," He says, his eyes tracing each fine detail of a long haired Human woman, a baker or housewife by the tray she carries. She wears an apron that hangs low enough at the top to expose most of her breast. While it's small enough at the sides to show of the curve of her waist, and the swell of her hips. Were that apron but an inch shorter, nothing would be left to the imagination. Cordon sighs contentedly, drawing the list back out of his pocket. "Thank you Twarb, you've given me an excuse to visit a brothel, and try out some Bhanga while I'm at it." Cordon stands, and checks himself over in one of the various standing mirrors set against the walls. "Revelatur caerula fluctus." he intones as he watches any trace of dust or sweat vanish from his reflection, enjoying the tingling sensation as it moves down his body. Next he checks his coin purse, as he pops the last bit of cheese into his mouth. 'Two Nix. Well that's just not enough' Cordon sighs as he realizes that he will have to go down to the Cubicles and scribe up a scroll for the guild's coffers. 'Work before pleasure.' Cordon thinks to himself regretfully. Entering the shared portion of the residence, Cordon crosses to the fireplace and tosses the now memorized Guildmaster's note into the flames. Cordon then calls for Delbert as he makes his way back to the entrance, "I have to make a withdraw from the Cubicles, and then attend to a bit of business. I may be home a bit late, so why don't you take the rest of the day to yourself?" Cordon smiles as Delbert helps him get his coat back on. On the way to the Cubicles, Cordon thinks about the other items on the list once again.
Rolls: Arcana: 19+7=26 Medicine: 4+0=4 Nature: 16+5=21
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Post by Myst on Jun 21, 2019 9:16:16 GMT -5
“Ah, very good, sir. Perhaps I can nip into Clifton to buy some sweetcakes for the morning? I do miss the baking in the mansion.” Delbert sighs at that, his eyes a little longing. “I will, of course, be home in time to heat up your sheets before bed,” he adds as he helps you don your coat. He then straightens it and gives your lapel a quick brush of his hand to ensure that you look pristine before he opens the door for you.
The library and adjacent cubicles are on the other end of the guild, but there is a teleportation circle on the main floor of this hall – and in all of the main halls of the guild – for easy access. In History class, you had heard that when magic was banned from the hallways of the guild, members began to complain about the arduous journey on foot through the massive guild. In response, the Guildmaster of Conjuration at the time – Finneus Black – created these permanent circles which link to circles outside the gates, in the main halls, the towers, and any other well-traversed areas in the guild.
You make your way down the stairs, passing a plump, middle-aged woman who gives you a nod as she turns her key and enters a room on the floor below yours. A silver ring glints on her finger. You get a quick glimpse of a plush room beyond, full of fluffy pillows, silks, and velvets, and dripping in twinkling crystal finishes. Your eyes explore her backside as she makes her way into the room but she wears a flowing robe that makes it difficult to see.
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Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 21, 2019 10:09:20 GMT -5
"That's a great idea Delbert. Perhaps I can have a proper kitchen worked into our suite. I do miss waking to the smell of freshly baked bread." Another quick casting fills the air around the two of them with the scent of freshly baked sweetcakes. Cordon closes his eyes and inhales deeply, "Ah, yes. I had almost forgotten how wonderful those smell." Once the door is open Cordon begins his journey to the Cubicles.
Cordon had always liked walking, but in the interests of getting things done in a timely fashion the teleportation circles were indeed handy. When one walks from place to place you always end up seeing more of the world, and the people in it. So many times Cordon has caught sight of something beautiful because he took the longer path. Sometimes it was a woman, sometimes a man, sometimes a bit of architecture, and sometimes something from nature. All of which he would have missed if he just blinked from place to place. Besides, he would be downright fat if he didn't walk. Already he was getting a little pudgy around the middle. 'Perhaps I'll get in a workout when I visit the brothels' Cordon smiles at that thought as he makes his way down the stairs.
Taking note of the plump woman, Cordon's smile brightens, 'Perhaps I could squeeze in a workout a little sooner. Let's see what she's working with here.' Out loud Cordon says, "Excuse me Mistress, but you may have dropped something." He points into the room, "Just there, I think it went under the end of that shelf." Cordon hopes she bends at the waist, even if she doesn't it was worth a shot. Cordon approaches her while she looks, summoning a simple flower that goes well with the colours in her room. When she doesn't find anything, "Apologies Mistress, it must have been a trick of the light." He offers her the flower, "Treasure this while it lasts, as I will treasure the brief moment that I get to bask in your beauty." Cordon bows, offering her his hand, "Cordon Salbar. We're basically neighbors you know." He gestures vaguely back up toward his room. If she accepts his hand, he turns it over and kisses across her knuckles.
Rolls: Deception: 15+2=17, to convince the lady to look for what she dropped. Hopefully offering me the view I missed. Persuasion 18+2=20, to get my flirt on.
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