Herald

FORGOTTEN REALMS - Gambit of Scoundrels

A thousand gold. Not bad just for showing up for work, Leon thought to himself, and from the way the crowd rippled around him he clearly wasn't alone in that thought. Of course, he also wasn't alone in thinking that if some of these sellswords never quite made it to the promised agents, that might just leave a little bit more in the treasury for his own use. When Hastlon ended his speech, cutting off any follow up questions it did leave Leon feeling more than a little curious as to what kinds of questions he was afraid of answering. It was an effective tactic to dangle riches before the eyes of sellswords, but only a fool rushed in to grab them without doing a bit of poking around.

“Follow Virjas then. Enjoy your meals and sleep well this night, for tomorrow you are in for a long, cold day. And… just know that the grounds are watched closely and my estate heavily guarded - by men and magic alike. Any thieves present will do well to remember this.”

Only someone with something to hide felt the need to state the obvious, Leon thought to himself, frowning. He reached down and touched his mask, reaching out for guidance from his god but finding no pull from the shadows in either direction. It apparently matters very little, for now, at least. Leon stayed back as most of the adventurers began to fall in behind the chamberlain, only joining in with the final dregs of the group.

The room he was assigned wasn't terrible, a converted office of some kind that likely temporarily hosted the work journals of Hastlon's visitors. Thoroughly cleaned out of course, without even a shred of evidence as to it's last occupant. Had Leon been more schooled in the faith, perhaps he could have divined some of the room's secrets, but for now they would have to stay within Mask's shadows. One did not walk the shadows without learning the truth of paranoia and how to use it to protect yourself, and so he set about securing the room before he slept. Strings and bells were carefully laid across the doorway and window, with objects set precariously against them so that the slightest outside movement would send them tumbling to the floor. Even then he still pulled out his chalk and traced a large Glyph of Warding around the bed, storing a paralyzation spell that would activate if any person other than him entered the space. He could always get rid of it in the morning. Only once these basic measures were in place did he finally strip out of his arms, leaving himself bare chested in the night air and begin his nightly offerings to Mask. As he offered up the secrets he had uncovered, the lies he had spoken into being, and the truths he had hidden, his mind turned back to that curious elf woman he had met in the gathering.

On a whim, he pulled out another curious set of runed dice covered with Maskarran symbols. Offering another prayer to mask, he reached out and grabbed onto his divine connection, speaking his questions and throwing the dice to see what answers his god could provide. When he finally went to sleep, it was with a strange sense that some grand joke was being played on him by his own god.

FORGOTTEN REALMS - Gambit of Scoundrels

“You should not speak into an empty corner, people might think you are mad. Nor should you speak to a stranger in the shadows so carelessly, it is not a safe thing where I am from, human.”

"Funny, where I come from, shadows are the only things you can talk to that would tell you the truth," Leon muttered just loud enough for her to hear, his hand having flow to his mask the moment she disappeared. For a long moment he was tempted to call upon Mask's favor, but there was little need and such things would simply draw undue attention.

"It has been a long time since I played Tag, Does this mean I'm 'it'?," he cast a look over his shoulder at her, his voice empty of fear and a wolfish grin on his face. Regardless of how she seemed to be ignoring him now, he tucked away the interaction into the corner of his mind and simply contented himself with listening to Lord Hastlon finish his speech.

Maskarran contacts within the city had reported much of the same as what Hastlon spoke of. Power abhors a void, and so what had once been a town split by hundreds of smaller gangs, cults, and individuals was now becoming more consolidated. Some did so in the natural way, outwitting, outfighting, and outstealing their competitors until the remnants had only two choices, death or submission. Others were new faces in the city, but had arrived with their own backers and powers beyond what any person should be capable of wielding.

Loosing a volley of arrows into the dark, just to see which ones stick, Leon thought, not a bad plan, but there are better ways of investigating a city. Why send so many of us? And from the way he stiffens up when someone leaves, he doesn't think he can afford to lose many of us either.

Whereas before, he used his talents for speechcraft to weaken the resolve of those around him, now when he spoke it was with the voice of a professional. Someone who could connect the dots for those less intelligent in the crowd and still sound natural along the way.

"So... you get the glory of returning the city under the banner of the government," Leon called out, "and we get a fair price for having returned it to you. Hells below, how much does a city go for these days?"

He could almost hear the clink of gold coins radiating from the minds of those who were motivated by such things. No matter how you cut it, that was retirement in Waterdeep levels of cash flow.

"Or perhaps you might be willing to negotiate a place in your cabinet when the time comes? After all, with the effort we might be expending, it would be a shame if we weren't there to ensure it did not fall once more into the dark afterwards." An appeal to those of higher moral standing, and a test to see how much power Lord Halston was willing to offer those without morality. He would be a fool to deny it out of hand, after all, no one in this room knew who was going to live long enough to see Scardale returned. The fewer words he used though, the more he meant to keep his little arrows from ever becoming associated with him. Which meant they were all screwed when the job was done.

Show me, Lord Halston. How good is your mask?, Leon thought to himself.

Hogwarts: The New Professors

“Gotta enjoy the little things in life, Milly.”

"I could drink to that," Kai said, a half-hearted attempt at a joke as he pulled out a small flask of his own and offered a pour to anyone interested, "butterbeer with a splash of muggle whiskey. Enough of a kick to keep you alert, not enough to muddle your brain over much."

Kaiden moved to take a place at the table, passing Taenar and the impressively sized dog that was practically a wall of fur and drool around her chair. Without thinking about it, he slipped a hand down towards Storm Cloud, his palm facing upwards and empty for sniffing as a way of introducing himself to the dog. Rottweilers, like most dogs, had a bad reputation for being aggressive guard hounds but the truth was always found in how their owners raised them.

But I do hope that I do well teaching the class. I almost Chose Mystic Animals. I have a rather large collection of Dragon Scales. I hope to collect one of each species. They've all fallen off Naturally – when they’ve molted. From yearling to Juvenile. I’d never take one from a Dragon, that would be incredibly rude, and would hurt.

Kai hid a small chuckle, resisting the urge to point out that there would definitely be a great deal of pain, likely more so in her direction. Still, it was always nice to hear someone speaking well of beasts, and not cowering in fear of what they had never really tried to understand. It was very ambitious for anyone to take up a collection of dragon scales. The creatures were increasingly rare, almost always dangerous to the point of requiring several wizards to chase off, and could potentially live for a millennia if maintaining a healthy diet and reasonable exercise.

When Taenar began excitedly showing off her newest addition, Kai narrowed his eyes slightly at the scale then seemed to react with surprise. It was indeed a dragon scale, likely a tail scale from one of the great beasts. He had intended to keep to himself for the meal and perhaps most of the walk, but it was a rarity indeed to be able to examine a piece of these creatures up close. When she began to describe the way dragons molted, Kai at first was wondering why they had hired him for this job, but something about the way she described the scales molting off various types of dragons...

"That's from a book," he said, interrupting her on accident and then narrowing his eyes once again at her face, leaning a bit to one side, then the other. "Dragons, a Yearly Yearning... right? Bugger me, you're that Tygath?"

"Your chapters on the Welsh Green and Swedish Short Snout are practically required reading at the farm. We check up on several of them every year and your book provides the foundation of dragon education for anyone that goes on the runs with me," he said, "I'll have to send word back home. I don't suppose you would be up for signing a few copies?"

"While we're on the subject, anyone else here get published?," he asked, opening up the conversation for others to chime in.

FORGOTTEN REALMS - Gambit of Scoundrels

Leon began to quietly move through the crowd, feeling the pull of Mask as Lord Hastlon began his speech. To those nearby he was simply another face in the crowd, perhaps a guest suddenly feeling a need for the bathroom or moving for a better vantage point, but it was the whispers he left in his wake that began to separate the wheat from the chaff. It was a simple skill, looking like you were speaking to someone else deeper in the crowd while allowing your words to overheard by those around you.

“My reason for having you all here is because… there is a matter of grand import to me. Me and the folk of this dale.”

"More like important to his pockets. He'll always be the man in charge, collecting his dues from those who break their backs doing the work," he said, leaving the poisonous words in his wake as he passed by some of the more shifty looking individuals.

“I have need of… worthy and capable sorts for an expedition, if you will. Perhaps it is better to call it a ‘plot’, but that is an ugly word, isn’t it?”

"Ugly, but accurate. What goodly god or man would approve of this shadowplay?," he muttered as he passed by the human who's shoulder bore the symbol of helm.

“My interests lay in Scardale Town. Which some of you most likely know, if you pay any mind to affairs of the dale these days.”

"The old capital? He must be mad, the shaking plague is still ravaging the city!," another whisper left drifting into the ears of the man he had spoken to earlier. The rumbles of whispers were already gathering in his wake, and like a conductor he slowly let them build, overlapping stories and voices until they built into a symphony of stressed whispers that plucked at the minds of the weak. It wouldn't do much, but for those on the edge of the fence, it would give a good shove over the edge. Already he could hear the boot heels of at least two people beginning to head for the doors. Good riddance.

“I will spare you all the pomp and grandeur. I am sending this little… ‘effort’ east, into Scardale Town. That is of course, those of you who think yourself capable and willing of such a dangerous undertaking. Dangerous but very profitable, I assure you.”

Leon turned back to face Lord Hastlon, though his own face was lost in the crowd. He took this opportunity to do his own scan of the crowd, watching their face and body language as individuals began to clump into groups. The small smiles on some of their faces spoke of the great greed that motivated them, others displayed wider grins showing their teeth and outwardly displaying their taste for violence. Very few actually seemed excited for the prospect of helping their beleaguered town, and Leon would be lying to himself if he couldn't help but share a similar sentimentality. It was a remnant of his old life before the temple. Of a man who existed only as a mask now.

His eyes settled once more on a face in the shadows. The elven-blooded woman he had spotted earlier was curiously standing alone, no companions or bodyguards nearby from what he could tell. Following his earlier instinct he made his way back towards her, stepping out of the crowd and then turning back to face Lord Hastlon as though he were the primary focus of his attention.

"Do you believe him?," he asked, "Scardale is a mess right now both in terms of man and monsters."

He pulled a single gold coin from his pouch, the simplest sleight of hand making it appear between his fingers and roll over the back of his knuckles like a common street magician. "Coin for your thoughts? You look like the only other person here with a far bit of sense."

FORGOTTEN REALMS - Gambit of Scoundrels

Leon drifted through the crowd of mercenaries, a half-full silver wine cup in his hand that always seemed to dodge any attempt to refill it and an easy smile on his face that hid as much as the bronze mask at his hip did at times. His blue eyes scanned the faces and helmets all around him with interest. Lord Hastlon had gathered quite the menagerie of 'ne'er do wells' into his not so humble home tonight for his grand call for action. And grant it would be, for the Maskarrans to send one of their own to this particular masquerade.

If only they weren't all so dreadfully boring, Leon thought to himself, even as he feigned an interest in the immaculately maintained armor of a human male that clearly thought themselves some dragon slaying knight out to find their princess. The man put on a brave face, recounting the story of their last adventure into some dreadful sewer and fighting off a wererat infestation. Leon kept an easy half-smile on his own face, nodding through the story, but also seeing the slight wince of pain in the other man's eyes. You fought near the back of the group... and someone died. No, the pain is too recent. They were bitten. And so you freaked out and spent your life's savings on armor that will be stripped from your body ten minutes into Scardale...

"It is good to hear that I will be in the company of such heroes," Leon said, "hopefully your companions meet with similar success. Pardon me."

And so he continued the dance, flitting from one group to the next, always looking for the true players of this game. The ones with skill, intelligence, money, and/or strength to draw his attention. There were a few faces in the crowd that he took note of, but none that seemed to trigger what he was looking for. That special blending of shadows, that whisper heard only in the darkest of alleyways, the touch of his god upon his shoulder. He learned names, let others brag of their talents, and even made a few simple offerings of his own services in exchange for appropriate payments. He had received two offers of employment so far, but had turned both offers down sensing that their idea of loyalty didn't quite match up with his own.

His patience was already beginning to wear thin after two different passes through the 'adventurers'. If necessary, he would carry out his temple's mission himself, but there was a nagging feeling in the back of his neck that he was missing something... someone. Muttering a prayer to Mask under his breath as he swung through the next group of fools, several people seemed to move in just the perfect way so that he caught sight of a lone figure that he had somehow been missing on his previous trips. An elven woman, possibly a half-elf since her skin was a little lighter than the wood elves he had seen in these parts, graced with curves that drew attention away from the telltale musculature of someone who performed acrobatics as part of their daily routine. She held the ethereal beauty most elves could lay claim to, but even Leon's brief look was able to see the intelligence that hid in those eyes. The shadows seemed to welcome her, and one of the first tenets of Mask's faithful came to his mind.

Mask sees everything that happens in the dark. Trust the darkness, for those in the light are easy prey.

The crowd moved again and he lost sight of her, but he would remember her face. Even as Lord Hastlon began to call for attention, he couldn't help but throw subtle glances around, wondering if she was still lurking in the crowd somewhere.

FORGOTTEN REALMS - Gambit of Scoundrels

Leo

Name: Leon "Leo" Cuhainne

Kings, Priests, Lovers, Warriors, we all wear masks. Mine is just better than yours.

---

___________________________________ P R O F I L E Age 29 Race Human(Chondathan) Sex Male Height 6 feet 3 inches Weight 190lbs Alignment Lawful Evil Class Cleric Level 5th Level Cleric ___________________________________ I N V E N T O R Y (Notable Items) Potion List -Shield of Faith -Darkvision -Cure Serious Wounds -Rage -Misdirection vestments - Bronze Mask of a Leonine Face +Enhanced as a Hat of Disguise ____________________________________ E Q U I P M E N T - Longsword(Diety Favored Weapon) +Enhanced with +1 Defending - Steel Shield - Leather Armor ____________________________________

____________________________________________________________________________ APPEARANCE An entire youth spent growing up on the streets of Scardale among the gangs and thieves of the breaking city forged Leon into a lithe, athletic man who could look at home among the darkened alleyways of the city as well as the brightly lit celebrations of the wealthy. With a charming face, deep blue eyes, and light brown hair often cut in a style befitting the local fashion, Leon walks the fine line between drawing attention and yet being completely forgettable. The most distinguishing marks he has are a series of slashes that carved too deep during his training, and the tattoo of a black mask on the lower right side of his torso, a faded gang tattoo that the mask has been used to cover up laying underneath. ____________________________________________________________________________ BACKSTORY Growing up among the gangs of Scardale quickly dispelled Leon of any belief in the overall morality of his fellow man. The bastard child of a prostitute, Leon's father figures consisted mostly of drunk thieves and sadistic opportunists. When he turned six years old, his birthday present was to be thrown into the streets and told to never return unless it was with a great deal of money. With little other option if he wanted to live, Leon took up with a gang of youths that carved out a small slice of a single alleyway behind a popular tavern. He learned how to hold a knife at age 7, how to defend himself properly by 7 and a half, and made his first kill at age 9. It was only because of this that he learned the skills and the heart he needed to use them through his developing years. At age 15, Leon ended up cutting the purse of what he believed to be a visiting merchant, a man on his way to some masquerade or other in another city. Despite the man's quick hands and quicker feet, Leon managed to keep the purse on the move for over an hour, switching it between different runners in the gang, always doing his best to stay one step ahead of this man who seemed to know exactly how to play this type of game. When he eventually became cornered by the man, the man offered to let the gang keep the purse... if they would turn Leon over to him. Six years of fighting alongside brothers and bleeding with them apparently meant little compared to what Leon would later learn was a simple thirty gold coins. However, it was alongside this stranger that Leon would come to be inducted into the Maskarrans, worshippers of the God of Thieves and Shadows. Ten years would pass before he would return to Scardale, arriving in the city a few scant years ahead of the devastation that would become known as the shaking plague. With suffering and chaos surrounding him, he weathered the storm by trusting in his faith and the strength of his sword arm. As the plague began to die off, and with no real loyalty to anyone but himself and his diety, Leo began to reach out to others, seeking a partnership that could prove profitable in terms of coin and power... ____________________________________________________________________________ PERSONALITY Leon's extensive training in faking personality traits and emotions has left even himself to wonder if there is anything 'real' about him anymore. When speaking with someone that he knows on a personal level, he still maintains a bit of a cold distance, warming only if he believes it will give him an edge in the conversation or serve as a pleasant distraction. Despite his training in stealth operations, when it comes to combat he is a brazen warrior, challenging others openly and encouraging the focus on himself so that his partners can seek their own advantages and trusting in Mask to keep him alive. ____________________________________________________________________________ MOTIVATION AND OUTLOOK Leon's primary motivation is pride. He has a need for the feeling that borders on an addiction. He has to be the best at what he does, whether that is killing an enemy, profiting from a successful job, or bedding a lover. Implying he is incapable of something is usually the best method to get him to do exactly that, unless it is clearly suicidal. Some say this makes him easy to manipulate. He would say it just makes him a better winner. ____________________________________________________________________________ MISC Optional

Umbra: The Abyssal Connection

“This ain't over, Val. Mark me.”

Val chuckled as he watched the bear retreat, his own hand sliding away from his pistol. For a moment he had actually been worried that Vin had gotten the drop on him, his body tense with the instinct to spring in any direction to throw off the aim. At such close range though, and against a rifle like Vin's, he wasn't sure his body armor would have been enough to save his life though. "Next time, Vinny. Next time," he muttered.

“Hey, guys? We're gonna get caught in a sandstorm if we don't do something.”

"Yeah, you're right about that...," he said, though he was staring directly at the massive Wild that had caused such a ruckus. Feed me, it had said right into his brain. And since the creature's jaws weren't currently separating Val into three neatly portioned chunks, he guessed that it must have meant something else by the comment. "Do yourselves a favor and take sixty seconds to take anything nice from the dead guys. Food, water, breathers, bullets, hell if they left behind a rifle or three that'd be great. Just keep it to what you can carry fast. About a three minute run to the east of here, a bit deeper into the city is a hidey hole I've used from time to time. Marked with a big gray bird symbol on the west facing wall. Deep enough inside the building is a cosy little shelter that will shield us from the storm, even has some kind of old garage opening on the bottom level for the big guy here if he's a friend of yours..."

"Which I am dearly hoping, since I don't think we're getting very far if he's still hungry," Val's hand strayed close to his AR pistol, his most valuable possession.

“We're in your debt…”

"Lady, I appreciate the sentiment, but there ain't no debt here. Just some mutual survivors looking to live another day. Not that I'm gonna stop you if you really want to pay me back somehow some way," he flashed her a friendly grin, but left the statement at that, his eyes back on the big Wild.

"Maybe we all just get to some cover for now, yeah? I'm not fond of talking with lungs full of Dust. Bad way to die," he admitted.

"What do you think, big guy? You gonna let us go, come along, or am I about to be an awfully handsome red smear across one of these buildings?," he called out, not even certain the creature could understand him.

If he didn't find himself in yet another fight for his life against a Wild that could pretty much drop a building on him, Val would faithfully lead the group towards a point of safety from the storm. A former office building of some kind, with the bird marking on the side and enough walls between them and the outside that the storm would have an extremely difficult time making it's way into the interior where a space had been cleared out that could hold two dozen people if needed, with room for a fire pit in the middle and tents to the sides against the walls.

Umbra: The Abyssal Connection

New post is up! I've puppeted Ivy and Bastian. Looking forward to everyone's posts! @Herald, feel free to lead the group to cover.

@Estylwen

Aye aye Capn!

Hogwarts: The New Professors

"Excuse me, sir," a timid voice sounded out from a column near Kaiden. With a small start, he turned, his fingers twitching for his wand btu knowing there would be little to really threaten him here at the castle.

"Sorry. Did you say something?," Kaiden said, leaning to the side to spy a small humanoid shape dressed in some kind of sack sewn together with half a dozen lines of stitching. Kaiden had seen a house elf before, but had never had the experience of having one serve in his own house. From what he understood, the little creatures had a surprising amount of magic, but universally served humans for reasons that were never clear to Kaiden.

"Lunch is being served," the elf mentioned, gesturing up the main corridors towards the Great Hall, "in the Hall, sir. Several of the teachers have already gathered..."

"Ah," Kaiden said, shifting his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot, "I suppose I should join them. I don't suppose you know if this is going to take terribly long? Theres a pair of jobberknolls near the edge of the forest that have been having troub-" He turned to look back at the elf and realized they had already disappeared, their message apparently given.

"Damn," he muttered, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair, "well, best go say Hi if we're supposed to be going to a party or whatever..."

Maybe it was the closeness of the walls, or maybe the size of the castle over all... or it could be the dozen or so ghosts that drifted through the hall and paintings, but the castle always unsettled Kaiden. The ghosts were friendly enough, and politeness made him stop and share more than a few words with the ghosts that seemed chatty. The end result is that it seemed he was quite late to lunch, arriving after the food had begun to appear on the tables.

Slipping past the doors, he offered a sheepish smile towards the gathered professors, hoping to just kind of snag a pastry off the table and offer a few polite introductions. "Apologies for running late, I was seeing to a bird that had caused a bit of a ruckus at Hogsmeade a few days ago. Pleasure to meet you, I'm Kai," he said, offering a friendly nod of his head. Ironically, he actually seemed to pay more attention to the familiars that had accompanied some of his new coworkers, nodding his head deeper towards them and smiling a bit wider to see that there were at least a few animal companions here. Depending on how friendly the familiars were, most of Kaiden's lunch would end up shared out among the less human members of the table, though he was very careful to avoid feeding anything harmful to them.

Hogwarts: The New Professors

@World Traveler Is this round robin style(everyone takes a post, then the GM posts, rinse and repeat) or should we do some smaller posts for conversations?