The Glory of Bastige

What is best in life?
Or, what sweet gear do you want?

Homework: Post a list of three items your character would like to own at some point. These items could be upgrades to your current gear or brand new items entirely. Please post them on the Obsidian Portal by Wednesday August 27th if you want Prestige.


  1. Well-crafted scalemail or chainmail that she could wear underneath a coat, or a lighter, more subtle armor enchanted to provide greater protection.
  2. A shield emblazoned with Her Lady Justice’s emblem. Based on a celestial shield or something similar.
  3. A gift from the people. Vague, yes – can be anything.


  1. To crush his enemies. To split bone and blood. Torture in fighting. Id like julian to be able to use his medical knowlege to inflict great nonlethal pain.
  2. An item that allows me to share spells or buff others much like the one i emailed you.This could also be an upgrade to my mixture vail.
  3. blood curse/blood magic related hijinx.


  1. Bloodlust (this would be a made up power) or Keen Khopesh
  2. Magic items of protection (rings, bracers, etc.) – heirlooms stolen from him when he was put into servitude, we can flesh out the stories on these if you want
  3. Sash of flowing water

Terth (is bad and terrible)

  1. A piece of jewellery or trinket that creates an aura that deflects projectiles (or at least mitigates their effect)
  2. Some dirt on Pierre Bontoole
  3. A boat
The group travels to all new lows.

The soft footfalls echo into the dark as the group makes their way down the stairs. The passage of time and distance seems untrackable on the monotony that has become their world.
Staring off into the middle distance julian looks at the inky abyss and smiles. “Do you think there’s a faster way back up?”

The question hangs in the air for what seems like hours. Steps without end stretch before and behind the group, each worn unique by the passing of time. A dark eternity later, Terth replies.

“No. Probably not.”

The voices echo a few times coming from both above and below. The natural and unnatural lights dance on the walls, filled with worn etchings, graffiti, and the occasional hole. Luca studies it for a whole on the way down.

“I just hope we can make it down without another incident. I’d hate to damage this history any more than it has been”

Julian gentle rakes a claw along the wall. Not damaging it but making a light scraping sound.
“Yes the great history of the stairs. Built by someone in the year something. I never understood the idea that something old makes something venerable. Granted i do like some old thulain style buildings in the peoples. I feel like we’ve been at this forever ..Hey dont you have a watch? How long have we been going down?”

“Ages, it feels like.”

Iskanda taps the blade of her feebly-lit sword and the pale yellow glow renews. “You’re being awfully talkative today, Julian. Afraid of the dark?”

Terth’s mouth spreads into a shit eating grin.

“Are you not? You know things like grues enjoy hiding underground in the dark and preying on distracted travelers.”

Luca’s faces contorts with displeasure to Terth’s comment.

“I’d be more afraid of what those cultists have been unearthing down here, than grues. Who knows what they could find down here. Long forgotten magic, artifacts, or creatures that would be best left forgotten.”

“You’re quite curious about history and artifacts, hm?” Iskanda tilts her head. “I wouldn’t have guessed, given your…professions.”

Luca responds with a grim look, “History is the only life after death. There is some solace knowing that at least some part of those that have fallen before me are preserved. Even if their names are forgotten, the events they participated in won’t be.”

“Ah.” She looks to him for a moment. “Have you always had such an interest in the past? It’s not a common trait for one so devoted to fighting and taking orders.”

“Voice of experience? What do you base that on?” -julian

Iskanda sighs. “No, from observation. Forgive me for trying to have a conversation and learn more about my companions.”

With a dismissive shrug julian leans near luca and says “I just thought she was calling you uneducated.” returning to his pace on the steps julian looks at iskanda. “No need to be so testy iskanda. Im a chained dog now, hardly a man worth fighting with. As we saw upstairs that may be more dangerous than i was.”

“I was asking him if he had – Oh, nevermind.” She shakes her head.

“Anyway, yes, the men up there seemed very devoted to their task. No telling how many there will be down below. I do wonder if Jack knew more about this place than he’d mentioned…”

In a somewhat detached voice, “Julian, I believe she may have been implying as such, but it’s an easy mistake to make. Most warriors are little more than machines made to clumsily swing any blunt, spiked, or bladed object that is put into their hands.”

Luca’s voice picks up, “My training, however, involved countless lessons on forms, their individual histories, why they were invented, who uses each one, which ones counter others, how to switch and combine them. It was always the ‘why’ that intrigued me.”

“I fear this may hurt your standing in the group, but i’ve decided i like you. With spells or blades no one ever questions “why” when they’re so happy with the results. Like iskanda’s light. Does it fill the metal with light or is it more plated with light. Does it have a weight?
What if she casted it on a mirrored box? Would it still reflect the light? If it were cast on ice and we melted it what would the results be? Where does the light come from? God? If so where would terth’s come from? No one questions it as they are just happy with having it. The order questions why, but even then only when it fits their needs. ON that note. Jack didn’t say anything to me, maybe to terth? Maybe he wants us to find this knowlege and use it as some kind of blackmail? Maybe hide his own family history? Maybe having me burn from the inside saving one of you. I mean hemorrhaging hurts, but the blood boiling that stays with you. Does her lady have a “Curse”? I should of shopped around for my penance, but i didnt have the time really.

She purses her lips at Luca before glancing towards Julian. “Yes, we do have our own mark of justice. Chances are you would’ve liked it less than Azrelia’s method, as it’s a bit…stronger. Someone of my rank can’t generally carry it out, though. Usually it’s a High Justicar, and there aren’t any of those in the city. And the High Presbyter here isn’t really one for making a scene, so I doubt he would’ve approved.”

“Stronger? How so? Does it out right kill you, or is it more binding in the sense one can’t even think of harming another? Also i thought you were the highest ranking Justicar here. Doesn’t that make you defacto High Justicar? Who issues that edict? Granted i’m assuming your church operates much like a army. Speaking of armies who trained you luca? You know..i just realized how ignorant i am of all of you. I have no idea what made any of you come to this city. Not that you need to justify it.”
The edges of a landing come into view and fade behind them.
“I think that was forty or forty one. Has anyone been counting?”

Iskanda shakes her head. “No, I’m afraid I’ve lost track. And I’m from Ordahl, as you must know. It’s not the best place for a woman to live, so…” She trails off.

“Ah yes im told its very hot there. But why her lady of justice? Not a officer of the law, not a preistess nore a knight. But then im assuming you decided this. Sometimes such things are thrusted on us.”

“I believe Miss Iskanda was referring to how women are treated there. Perhaps she took up the cause of Her Lady Justice in order to raise her station, or perhaps ", turning to Iskanda, “to raise the station of all those she saw being mistreated.”

“Oh.” There’s a pause before Iskanda nods. “Er, yes. I didn’t become a part of the church until I came to Bastige…I hoped to make some sort of difference here, to rid it of the horrors of slavery. Ordahl was only my home in my youth.” She gives a small shrug.

“And what of you, Luca? Bashara, right? What brought you here?”

“Failure brought me here. Bashara is where I was trained. Though I can no longer call it home. Bastige has been hospitable enough, but I do not plan on staying here forever.”

“Hospitable?” She snorts. “Weren’t you indentured as a gladiator for over half a decade? Curious definition of ‘hospitable’…”

“Yes forced to fight fuck and drink one self till raw. How ever did you deal with the horrors?” Julian rubs his forehead and winces. “Then again its hard to enjoy anything when forced, hard to look ahead when you can’t decide the path i suppose.”

Terth's New Bodyguard
Luca's New Job

Iskanda was nice enough to bring Luca into Terth’s office. Luca was out of work, having retired form his gladiator days a few weeks prior. He had a decent condo (that was just paid off at the same time), his gladiator equipment and a little over a 1,000 gold to his name. But now he needed a new way to make his way in the city. He and Iskanda had talked a few times about her work with Jack Clemmens, and his anti-slavery stance. As far as Luca could tell Jack wasn’t as hard-line on the issue as Iskanda or himself were. Luca had seen the harsh treatment that slaves receive in the pit, and had even made friends with a few of them. This man Terth however, was a hero of the city, his exploits heard even down in the underground cages. And he was Iskanda’s companion. Surely he is an honorable man, worthy of the protection of an Aquila da Menegi .

Luca enters the office and extends his greetings, “Hello Mr. Valkir. Ms. Iskanda tells me that you might be looking for a new body guard.”

Terth glances up from his ledger at the man standing before him. He looks him up and down before returning to his work. “What’s your name?”

“My name is Luca Da Vale, sir. I have been a gladiator for the past few years. I recently retired from that life, and am looking for work work that would put my skills to good use. I understand that you are a hero of Bastige and have been in several different dangerous situations.”, Luca says in a matter of fact way.

A Discussion of Dreams
(Namely Julien's crazy drug trip.)

Iskanda closes the door carefully, trying not to disturb Julien’s sleep. She sets the pitcher down on the bedside table, next to the rags and empty cup, and sits on the short wooden stool to its right. Practically a converted closet in the basement of the church – made even more cramped by the metal cage used to bring his beloved cat along – the room is generally reserved for the deeply wounded, but she’d been able to talk the High Presbyter into allowing Julien the privacy. The moonlight from the half-window at the top of the wall is barely enough to see anything by, and she squints to get a glimpse of his state.

Julian slowly tugs at his bonds, muttering to himself, then yanking hard and cursing.

Iskanda startles somewhat at his movement, but quickly regains her composure.

“You asked for those, remember?”

She lifts the pitcher and pours some of the water into the cup. “Thirsty?” The rim of the cup is at his lips before he can answer. “Best to flush your system out.”

Sipping and scowling, Julian looks at Iskanda. “I also asked for one of my mutagens, I think it would help its passing more than water.” He takes a long draw from the glass and sheepishly looks down at her feet. “But thank you.”

“You know, I saw a lot of odd things when on dredge, some I’m still trying to understand. Does it take from my mind or others? I swear I would say I have nearly forgotten the face of my father, but there he was. Not like the half-remembered dream I pictured him as a week ago, but clear and vivid to the point I swear I smelt him. And then I saw you, only not you. A younger you than I have ever known yet I bet it was you. Just as I’m sure that what my father looks like now.”

“Me? That’s…strange.” She frowns and pulls the cup away, setting it back on the worn table, then stands to light the lantern hanging on the wall. The candle flickers and casts long shadows. “How young did I look? Did I say anything?”

It was a fevered dream but you seemed much younger 10 or more years. Youthful and how can i put this.. less stern. I don’t recall what you said i think something about fire or shame.
Julian rubs his head and curses. "this is painful. I feel so utterly weak. I hate weakness. I heard people talk of addiction and i always looked down on addicts. I looked at them like frail man saying they can’t run or graceless fool trying to dance the five point. I saw them something i wasn’t. I seen addict before int he peoples. I walked by them and scoffed saying that would never be me. I’d over come it. I am above such vices. After a long pause and false start to his next sentence julian murmurers the words “i was wrong”.

Threat of the Rose
Prevention of priest-induced sleepmurder

“So, this is it.”

Iskanda steps inside her home and gestures for the others to follow. It’s a modest studio-style affair, small but not lacking in furniture and decor. A wood stove at one end sits long-unused in the summer heat, then a butcher block with clean pots and pans on hooks above it. Nearby, a table and three mismatched chairs, then a dark wooden desk pressed against the wall, covered in books and papers. A large hutch serves as a catch-all for storage, filled with an assortment of mugs, plates, texts, trinkets, and bottles. A few tapestries hang on the walls and thick curtains cover the two windows, letting in only stray rays of midmorning sun. In the far corner, a tall folding screen serves to separate her bed and dresser from the rest of the room.

She walks to a window and pulls aside the curtains to let in more light. “I didn’t see anything else when I was here the other day, just the rose.” She nods to the bed.

“I wonder if this place would look different on dredge…”

Julian looks at the door and the windows for sign of forced entry. “You should lock your doors and bar your windows if you plan on sleeping here again. I’d advise you to also throw out any food or drink you may have as it could be poisoned. Was anything taken?”

Iskanda frowns and idly wipes some dust from the windowsill. “No, nothing’s missing. And that’s the thing, everything was closed and locked when I got back. It was exactly as I left it, except for the rose on my pillow. I asked my neighbors and they didn’t see anyone. I’ve been thinking of moving because of it, honestly. If they can enter and leave and not disturb anything…It wasn’t some common street thug hired to leave a message. Then again, they’d be able to find me if I did move.”

“If the ease of entering wasn’t damning enough, not taking anything is a real mark of “professionalism”. I’m not sure if they wanted you dead, though – why leave a warning if you missed your mark? Well, we already know who paid to have a message left, the real question is if that’s all they were paid for."

Terth purses his lips and glances out the window across the Spires.

“This seems like a lot of work just to tell someone they’re going to be wiped from this plane of existence. Sneaking in and out without disturbing dust or locks sounds like either the best thief in the city or someone with magical powers.” He turns at looks at Iskanda.

“Has anyone done a sweep for magical wards or runes?”

((To clarify, her place isn’t in the Spires, just in some inexpensive area.))

Iskanda shakes her head. “No, but that’s not a bad idea. I could ask someone from the church but I haven’t told them about all of this just yet. Didn’t want to worry them, and ah, other related recent incidents have already been troubling enough for the High Presbyter to deal with. Anyway, magic would make sense. It’s a bunch of priests who have it out for me, after all.”

Julian looks up from studying Iskanda’s hutch. “Oh that’s what I meant by looking over this place while on dredge. Sorry I’ve never had that innate ability to read magical auras, I feel it’s similar.” He rubs his brow and looks slightly annoyed. “Did you assume I just wanted to get high and space out in your room!?”

“Well, that does seem like a bit of overkill. Like using a fireball to light a candle, you know?”

Terth pulls his hands out of his pockets and moves back across the room, waggling his fingers like a pianist about to perform.

“I actually have some skills in detecting magic. Maybe not quite on par with a professional practitioner, but I’ve got some experience finding mid market scrying caltrops.” A sly grin creeps across his face.

In a flourish, Julian steps aside and gestures into the room. “Well then detect! If someone magically moved throught here the aura may have been strong enough to leave some residue. Yet I don’t see the point of knowing how someone got in. We can assume who did it, and we may as well go on thinking they’ll give you more than a “warning” next they can. Are you trying to find who has the contract on your head in hopes of dissuading them personally?”

Iskanda arches her brow at Julian. “I don’t know if there’s a contract involved, or if it’s just a personal matter with Montblanc and any of the other priests. My main goal at this moment is to not have my throat slit in my sleep. And…are you well? You seem awfully-” She frowns, attempting to find the right word. “Animated.”

Pondering for a brief moment, Julian states with a grin, “I have been high spirited as of late. Much is going on and I see a glorious future before me. It could also be that I have lingering affects from dredge. No matter, if your main concern is safety why not just bunk up with one of us? Or move, as this place is below you now, isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s below me, but yes, I do have funds stored away from our undertakings. Like I said, I was thinking of moving anyway…” Iskanda looks around the room with sad eyes for a moment, then straightens her expression. “No matter. I don’t want to sell it if it has some sort of ward or curse on it that’ll harm a new tenant. I want to be sure it’s clean first. Terth, by all means, do what you must to find anything.”

She steps back to give him room and glances at Julian, speaking in a lower tone now. “Be careful with dredge, will you? You might think you’re able to get through it unscathed, but no one is above addiction.”

“Addiction? I’ve only had it once and its not like we even have access to more, but I do hope to get more. As addiction does also mean withdrawal, I assume I could ride out its effects in my ascended state, that could perhaps prove unwise. I could set up a routine of flushing my system. Oh, that opens so many other questions; does a magical hallucinogenic even “flush” from the system?

“It might still be in my system…Terth, while you’re at it, could you “scan” me while looking about?”

Iskanda sighs. “Ride it out? Right, like however many people are hooked on it now. Your arrogance is showing…You’re smart, but you can’t think your way out of a drug’s effects. Don’t make a habit of frequent use.”

“Oh, maybe I’ll make a curative that removes addiction to dredge…That’d be entirely legal and highly profitable. We could also play both sides and double our profits. Speaking of which, we must meet with that man again. what was his name? Henri?"

“Henri, yes. But what do you mean, play both sides?” She frowns. “Peoples’ lives are at stake here, you shouldn’t be concerned with profits.”

“People are going to smoke and drink. People are also going to do so in excess. If money is to be made, make it. If the morality of the issue is grey, then we can offer it at a discount on what is affordable to those unfortunate enough, or those willing to help such as your church.

“But we’re far ahead of ourselves here. Henri – all the details we seem to have on this man marks him as a conspirator, murderer and, if my benefactors are correct, a budding drug smuggler and manufacturer. Some of which I feel were confirmed with Terth’s interview with the man. I hope this drug isn’t made with “people”, even more a reason to investigate its manufacturer.”

“Yes, people will give in to their vices. I have no issue with that, as long as it’s done in moderation. I do have an issue with charging money to those who wish to get help to escape an addition…And with those who drive the drug’s addictiveness up, and pressure others to get caught up in it. The…” She hesitates, in thought. “…growth of the substance within a person? Is it likely that they’re farming it that way? Henri could simply be a creep, we don’t know yet that he’s actually killed Vivian.”

From the opposite end of the room Terth calls out.

“Honsetly, it’s up in the air what makes this strand of drudge so potent. Harvested from a human, blood sacrafice maybe, who knows maybe it’s just a brilliant chemist with a macbre penchant for naming drugs after his fancies.”

Terth begins moving back towards the entrance.

“I think at this point we can really only say three things about Henri. One, he’s creepy. Two, he’s into some hard drugs. Three, chances are there’s someone above him who knows what’s going on. Anyway, I’m not detecting anything magical around here right now, just a faint buzz from Julian.

The Day of Blood and Roses
The Adventure Continues...

As the suns rises over the glorious metropolis of Bastige a festive mood takes hold. Citizens are giddy with the coming of another Day of Blood and Roses, ready to celebrate their goddess Azrelia, Mother of None, coming into power and casting out the blasphemous followers of Thune. Though still summer the air seems crisp and lacks the oppressive humidity of previous months.

The people of the Towers have wreathes of bramble and rose hung throughout the quarter and are dressing in their finest regalia to celebrate this most auspicious day. In the People’s quarter the merchants ready themselves for a busy day of revelry, peddling their most patriotic of Bastigian wares, while the laborers enjoy a day of drink and relaxation. In the Silk, the Devil’s Laugh have major events planned in anticipation of the more welcomed atmosphere of mirth. In the morning, before the parade, at the Exalted Coliseum, there is to be a reenactment of the Battle of Tempest where the first Azrelian Sorcerer King drove back the Araanian armada. After the parade, a rendition of “The Red Lady’s Kiss” shall be performed at Queen Azcadelia VIII’s Royal Opera House.

In the Steeples, a noticeable melancholy hangs in the air. The priests of All Father Thune sit in solemn prayer among the crowded pews of the Clockwork Basilica. The civil servants of the Bastigian government who typically haunt the holy temple leave the faithful in place of festivity, adding to the tomb like atmosphere. On the streets, the evangelists, preachers and heralds to the numerous gods of Verasin fall silent, for they know that this day, above all others, belongs to the Mother of None.
Here we go folks, the Day of Blood and Roses! While Julien, Terth and Iskanda investigate the alleged plague we’ll have anything else go here or perhaps another appropriate thread.

JCL-003 (Mama feathers)

Object Class:Elliptic Humanoid.
Description: Tall and eloquent woman of a ample build. Wings protruding from her backside. Surrounded in long white downy feathers but accented on her face with black. Lips of crimson and large eyes of solid yellow and small slit black irises. Somewhat alien appearance but aids them in locating food and material from high altitude. Their lips slightly fuller than a human’s as well, though the difference is small.. Legs are thick toned and end with 3 talons.

Capture protocol. Not immune to poisons a sleep poison is to be used in tandem with debilitating poison STR-D4. Then subdued with with a steel net and bounded and chained.

The king in rags.

Item#JCL-002 (King in rags)
location:The spires
Containment Unknown. Purposed means of capture? See attached document A.
Description:Tattered garb and many old tarnished rings on each hand. Standing at over 6ft he appears emaciated. Eyes that look deep and old with a unnatural purple/white mix. Speaking in rhyme and a courtly manner when approached. Appears undead but unconfirmed. Appears human but unconfirmed.JCL-002 is normally followed by a group of people forced into his “court”. They dance and sing in a hive like way and the JCL-002 seems to draw power from them. He is protected or surrounded by a arcane feed back field that hurts attackers and defends JCL-002 it seems to only affect melee weapons but not ranged attacks. JLC-002 seems to attack with sound or song as well as a “gaze”.

Purposed Capture or extermination plan.
Firstly subject should be confirmed if it is indeed undead to expand methods of attack. attacking form a distance all of his knaves/subjects should be taken out. Hopefully aggravating JCL-002 into attack. Without verification if JCL-002 is undead this rules out poisons to incapacitate or holy weapons/salves. Using the nature of the spires itself attempts should be made to collapse part of the structure onto JCL-002. Then covered in chemical 45-Tang. Hopefully weaken and immobilize JCL—002 can be subdued.

How little Jimmy died.

Julien follows Terth to Her lady of justice’s temple with a coughing Jimmy in tow. Along the way he makes what passes for small talk. “Well since you don’t see it fit to leave him in my care i suppose we can see who else is seeking cures from the church, but if they cannot help him you must agree i should look over him.”

“No, I’m sure we’ll find someone to watch out for him at the church. They’re pretty helpful there. Besides, they know Jimmy there, no offense. I’m sure he’ll be more comfortable around the brothers and sisters of the church. Besides, I know you’re a busy guy. I can’t ask you to look after one of my own. Especially if you have a lot of research to work on.”

Jimmy coughs some more and looks somewhere between sullen and hating the world.

“Funny you should say that but the body of my research was taken by the order recently. So no my itinerary at the moment is clear. I would say these circumstances are alarming but i feel its more likely Jethro unleashed it when he threw the source of these spores out a window.” Patting jimmy on the head julien rubs his hair pulls on a tuff and then quickly examines his hand and pockets a strand of hair. “Yet id also appreciate a fresh pair of eyes on the matter.”

“They took your samples away from you? That’s intriguing… you’d think they would let someone with first hand experience with the matter do the original research. And I’d forgotten that Jethro had tossed spores out the Spires, maybe someone has been synthesizing something out of those in that area. If you’d like, after I get Jimmy squared away at the church I could help you look around that area for samples.”

“They have rewarded me for the find and will return the specimen in due time. I did argue just that but perhaps their avenue of research is outside my specialty or possibly a more senior member took interest in my fieldwork.”

Julien stares upward at the flying buttress as they round the corner to the temples entrance. “I haven’t been here in a great deal of time. Always loved the architecture here. Many troubled youth come here, I’m sure from one of them we can buy drugs. Do you recall the name, Jimmy?”

Jimmy stares back with wide eyes, as does the young wisp of a girl sweeping the front steps of the church. Broom firmly in her small hands, she runs back through the doors and comes out again a moment later, pointing at the trio.

“What did-” Iskanda pokes her head out, worried, but she sighs when she sees them. “Oh, it’s you. Of course. Run along, Kat.”

The girl nods and hurries inside again. Iskanda frowns and comes out onto the steps. “I thought you were going to see that foolish speech? Did it-” She catches sight of Jimmy’s sickly appearance. “By gods, are you ill, Jimmeno?” Jimmy almost seems to flinch at his very unstylish full name. Iskanda looks to Terth and Julien. “What happened?”

“He’s become infected with that mold we encountered in the Spires. Well, we’re not certain that’s what it is, but he’s showing signs very similar to yours. I wish…to find the substance which infected him, to be sure. Could we speak to some of your youths?”

“Ah, I see. Many of them are out now, to watch the…festivities.” Iskanda scowls. “It’s mostly just the young children here today. But…what substance? Something carrying the mold spores?”

Jimmy shifts uneasily. “Look we don’t have to do this. I can take you to my friends who gave me the Dredge. I-I’m sorry about all this. Hopefully you can heal my friends if they’re infected too. You can heal us right doctor?”

Jimmy looks to Julien with desperate eyes expectantly…

Bending down to stare into Jimmy’s face, Julien pauses and says, “I swear, Jimmy, with my efforts you won’t die painfully. Now, where can we find your friends?”

Iskanda promptly puts herself in between Julien and Jimmy. “Die? What are you talking about? What do you need his friends for? What do they have?”

Jimmy tries his best to keep from crying. “I’m sorry! I’ll take you to them right away! They should be at the commencement speech!”

“Uhg, of course.” Iskanda frowns. “Tell me what exactly is going on before you go there, at least. And-” She pauses and steps away, gesturing for Julien to follow, then continues quietly. “What makes you think he’s going to…that he’s that sick? And if it’s the same mold, what does that mean for me?”

“Oh, I don’t think you’ll die. I’d still treat it like I said, but you’re a healthy adult while Jimmy is a malnourished child. I haven’t watched anyone die of it yet so it may not even be fatal in and of itself. The bodies we encountered may just have been infected and died of other circumstances. Weakened in the spires, as you know one could fall victim to many hazards. Also, they may have been constantly exposed to the spores et cetera, so there are so many variables we cannot account for. In the meantime, we should find who producing this and why. If it is fatal, who would gain from that?”

“Someone who seeks to create chaos and paranoia by harming the lower classes. Just like the bombings…It’s certainly not meant to impact the people living in the Towers. At least not directly. How is it being distributed, exactly? Food? Water?” Iskanda glances at Jimmy, then looks back to Julien. “Or…he spoke of ‘Dredge’? A drug?”

“What Jimmy does in his free time is of no concern to others. We should focus on the task at hand, mainly finding who making this substance.”

Terth chimes in.

“It’s possible that if someone is trying to sow chaos like this, they might be trying to distribute it at the commencement speech, by “samples” or even just scattering into the air if it’s supposed to be inhaled… besides if we want to find out who’s behind this, talking to orphans and street dealers may not be the best way to go about things…"

“Ah.” Iskanda relaxes, oddly more at ease now. “Yes, it’s best to go to the source in such matters. I’d…best stay out of the public eye for a few days, but tell me if you find anything of note. I’ll ask around here to see if anyone knows anything at all. But a word of advice.” She focuses on Julien. “Be subtle.”

“I think you all think me brazen and rash but i just reach the appropriate response much quicker than anyone else, but fine ill wait and allow someone else to take the initiative.
So to the festivities?”

Terth nods.

“Yes, if we’re going to try and solve this mystery, that may be the best place to start. Iskanda, is it alright if I leave Jimmy in your care? It’ll be just for the day.”

Weekly Homework Update!!
For the week of 03/06/2014

Homework this week:

We are jumping forward in game a month’s time. Tell me what your character has been doing during the last month. What is their immediate goal after this time off? Post this on Obsidian Portal!

Month Timelapse

Jethreu falls to the ground covered in sweat. His bones ached. And now the familiar feelings of guilt, anger, and sadness flooded not just his mind but his body as well. Tee extension of himself had been dismissed and that left him vulnerable in more ways than one.

The month since he had awakened was increasingly harsh. Used to a comfortable life style, being hit with fireballs on a daily basis was almost the opposite end of the spectrum. His mind was reeling for the dismissal spell his mentor had cast. He lasted through 5 casting this time. But he was worn out on the 6th try and he wasn’t able to hold on any longer.

“Very good. Now summon it again.”

“I can’t. I”m too tired to feel anything right now."

“Well then I guess you’ll just be a pile of ashes in a minute then.” The old man wasn’t joking, he began invoking what looked to be a powerful fire based spell.

“Damn, I’m really going to die now. And I don’t care.”

WHAT! How dare you not care about yourself.”, his eidolon’s voice screamed into his brain.
“After all the the crap you’ve been put through this will be our end? I don’t think so. You survived your 5 day hangover. You’re the first D’llen mage in 10 generations. You’ve got that party tonight. AAAND you’ve got people to protect.”

“It’s too late though, it takes a full minute to summon our true strength, and that spell only takes half that time to cast. It’s going to be cast at me in a few seconds now.”

“Then cast one of your own”

The mentor fires his spell off and Jethreu instinctively casts his own. The smoke takes a second to clear and when it does, Jethreu stands, suspended in mid air inside his living armor.

His mentor just smiles and says “Well looks like you’ve passed stage 1 then. Only took you a whole month, party-boy”

That last comment stuck him the rest of the day. “It’s true, I did party for an entire week. But how could I not? The family has never been so happy. Even got that letter from…no musn’t even think of that. Maria couldn’t come but we did have some good times after.”

Jeth takes a moment to reflect on how long its been since he had seen Maria. It was before this week of intensive tests. After he had seen the group at the Cracking Whip. “I know she’ll be there, but I wonder if any of the others will show up. Its only a few days away. And we still have to figure out how we’re going to funnel the money out this time around. OH well, I”m sure gramps will come up with something again. He never misses an opportunity to sway some more people to our side."

((Posted this on Iskanda’s page, too, but here it is for easy access.))

After capturing the four terrorists who had bombed the public debate, Iskanda insisted that all must be turned over to the Anvilmen. Others disagreed, and she attempted a compromise by splitting the terrorists into pairs; she took her pair to the Anvilmen.

Upon discussing her activities with High Presbyter Aldric, the Church of Her Lady Justice bestowed upon Iskanda the Brooch of St. Augustine Prouleaux, slayer of Lasz’Ahjit, Devourer of Innocence. She began wearing it proudly, but didn’t let the glory get to her head; she continued working at the church, and even shied away from the public for her first week or so back from the Spires, in an attempt to avoid too much attention. However, Alix Morren came to her out of concern for Vivian, a courtier from the Silk District, who had recently disappeared, and that was enough to push Iskanda out from hiding. She has used some of her free time to search for clues regarding the woman, but thus far has only encountered questionable leads and dead ends. Although she encouraged Alix to remain optimistic, Iskanda had difficulty doing so herself.

Now officially an Anvilman, Iskanda began to spend more time at the docks, luring in new friends with tales of her foreign travels, vague as they might be. That added to her contact with Roland, and within their circles rumors had spread about a renewed relationship.

Some of her funds from turning in the terrorists had gone to the church, which drastically improved its appearance. Cracked tiles were replaced, new flowers and shrubs were planted in the garden, and the flame of the holy brazier burned brighter than ever – or at least in recent memory.

Iskanda also realized that her newfound fame was an excellent resource for spreading the holy word of Her Lady Justice. She has spoken to many people about her religion, and has been somewhat successful in increasing the church’s popularity. She has also been pleasantly surprised at the curiosity held for her origins in Ordahl, and has attempted to dispell negative beliefs about it and the outside world in general. Her efforts, however, have not come unchallenged; Severine Devers continues to refer to Iskanda as a dirty foreign whelp, and she’s received sneers and unkind words from like-minded Bastigians.

(What I did on my summer vacation by Terth Valkir)

The first two days after handing over the terrorists were quiet for Terth. Spent in bed with the curtains drawn and a block of Ele-Ice sitting in a copper tub in the corner, melting. On the third day, as the sun crept over the far horizon, Terth pushed the drapes aside and went out to open his stall.

The day was still cool and the threat of dew hung in the air as he walked to the Silk district. Already the sounds of the bustling squares began to drift down the winding roads and alleys and Terth hurried his pace. He turned the corner into the square where he worked to find someone already milling around his stall.

“Hello sir, may I help you?”

Ten hours later Terth collapsed onto the table of his stall as the last customer of the day walked off.
There had been new Anvilmen contacts to meet.
And then there were regulars to help and placate.
And all that between rubber-neckers trying to get a glimpse of the “humble merchant” and asking for advice.

“Gods I’m going to need to get some help.”

On the advice of Iskanda, he reached out to some youths from her church, inviting them to apprentice under him. Running the stalls and managing inventory while he handles customers. He contracted a crew of Anvilmen to improve and expand the stall. As the festival of the Blood and Rose approached the amount of business Terth was doing had almost doubled. No longer just silks and fabrics, but exotic wines and whiskies passed over his counter.

An increased profile means an easier target though. Old customers now spit in his direction as they pass to do business with his rival. Phrases like “up-jumped” and “savage” float around behind his back. Half-earnest accusations of treason reach his ears. ‘No true Bastigian would fail to turn terrorists over to the proper authorities.’ Circles and bags begin to form under his eys. Sleep always seems to come too late and dawn too soon. And now Terth is always seen leaving home with cane in hand.


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