Humble1

Blackguards!

Both the guild and the streets encouraged light sleeping, so dragging herself up from the abyss of unconsciousness was a new experience for Jagg. Being unable to move was, alas, not so new. Although usually there were ropes involved.

But fair enough, few can stay as motionless as a thief. Jagg stayed perfectly still while flexing first this muscle then that one. When the time came to act, her captor would find her limber and primed for action.

Said action would likely be running away, but it would be action nonetheless.

Jagg watched the Warden as the Warden - presumably - watched her. She was aware of the rumors of the Warden’s inhuman nature. As far as Jagg was concerned, none of the rich and powerful were human, so that made no nevermind. They all had some kind of weird powers, whether it was wrenching you out of sleep and freezing your limbs, or sending fat guardsmen into the back alleys at the second bell of the morning. She’d handle this one as well as she had all the other.

Blackguards!

Shade

Jagg “Shade” Tendris

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Race

Human

Gender

Female, intentionally androgynous

Age

19

Appearance

Small, waif-like build. In public she wears enough bulky clothing to hide both her gender and nationality, such as rough tunics and work breeches and a slouch hat. When working (AKA thieving) tends to wear a black skin-tight cotton shirt and leggings. Hair cut short in a page-boy style when possible, tied back when barbers are not available.

In complexion, she’s fair, if you can see past the dirt. The dirt is intentional, and gets heavier when she’s working. Eyes are brown.

Personality

Cheeky and irreverent when among friends, but a decent actor who plays whatever part the score needs at the moment. A good beggar, a competent busker with a tinwhistle or pipe, capable of street preaching if that will attract coin. Meek and mild when in the presence of authority until their back is turned, then cut-throat and callous as required.

Comes across as amoral, as befits a thief. Thoroughly corrupt, and takes to bribery and abusing the legal system like a fish to water. But somehow always finds reasons not to steal from the peasants and shows a special fondness for stealing from the upper classes. This is probably what led to her downfall.

The Maw has yet to break her. She grew up on the streets, and the lawless Maw is just the same but more so. She fully intends to escape and resume her crime spree. She will cheerfully go along with any plan the Warden gives her, confident in her ability to slip free later.

Background

An orphan and a street urchin, thanks to the policies of Temple and Throne. Adopted - if that’s the word - by the thieves guild of Vorhaaben, one of the larger of the river cities. Proved to be a gifted, if not brilliant, pupil of the illegal arts. Already a near-legendary cat burglar by the time she hit puberty with several daring heists to her resume. Called “Shade” by the commoners, she was well on her way to being a folk hero for her exploits

Like most thieves, she was always looking for that one last score that would allow her to retire in obscurity. In hindsight, stealing from the High Temple of the Sun in Vortigern was probably not the way to cap off a career.

At least the manhunt was epic. They nearly turned over the entire city in the search. In the end it was one consecrated piece of silver that allowed the priests to sniff our her trail and corner her in a back alley.

As far as the Kingdom knows, the thief known as “Shade” danced the hempen jig in front of thousands of witnesses for his crimes. In truth, that was some other poor soul. The real Shade was tossed into the Maw where, if she should survive, she might prove useful.

Talents

Can jigger a lock, pick a pocket, climb a wall, all while silent and cloaked in shadow. A master sneak thief, a good con-artist and a competent backstabber. Capable of talking, sneaking or bribing her way out of most any kind of trouble.

Flaws

Still young, not particularly sturdy, definitely not a front-line fighter. Still a bit naive as to the ways of the upper classes and high politics.

Equipment

Officially, just the clothes on her back. Somehow she ended up with a mostly complete set of thieves tools, including lock picks, climbing crampons, knives and a fair bit of rope. Has a modest bit of coin tucked away in various pockets.

Miscellaneous

Jagg is the standard fantasy “young thief” character, only a bit older than normal by this point. Think Talen from Eddiings, early Skiff from Lackey or Jimmy the Hand from Feist.

Blackguards!

@Zeroth Think "thrown naked into a tiny little cell in the cold darkness". No bed, no furniture, just a mouldy pile of straw and a smelly bucket. The Maw is a very bad place.

@Red Wizard

Do we want this to be absolute for narrative purposes? Because locks are just polite suggestions for Jagg.

Blackguards!

Hmmm. Seems like a good opportunity for one of my favorite fantasy archetypes.

Shade

Jagg “Shade” Tendris

---

---

Race

Human

Gender

Female, intentionally androgynous

Age

19

Appearance

Small, waif-like build. In public she wears enough bulky clothing to hide both her gender and nationality, such as rough tunics and work breeches and a slouch hat. When working (AKA thieving) tends to wear a black skin-tight cotton shirt and leggings. Hair cut short in a page-boy style when possible, tied back when barbers are not available.

In complexion, she’s fair, if you can see past the dirt. The dirt is intentional, and gets heavier when she’s working. Eyes are brown.

Personality

Cheeky and irreverent when among friends, but a decent actor who plays whatever part the score needs at the moment. A good beggar, a competent busker with a tinwhistle or pipe, capable of street preaching if that will attract coin. Meek and mild when in the presence of authority until their back is turned, then cut-throat and callous as required.

Comes across as amoral, as befits a thief. Thoroughly corrupt, and takes to bribery and abusing the legal system like a fish to water. But somehow always finds reasons not to steal from the peasants and shows a special fondness for stealing from the upper classes. This is probably what led to her downfall.

The Maw has yet to break her. She grew up on the streets, and the lawless Maw is just the same but more so. She fully intends to escape and resume her crime spree. She will cheerfully go along with any plan the Warden gives her, confident in her ability to slip free later.

Background

An orphan and a street urchin, thanks to the policies of Temple and Throne. Adopted - if that’s the word - by the thieves guild of Vorhaaben, one of the larger of the river cities. Proved to be a gifted, if not brilliant, pupil of the illegal arts. Already a near-legendary cat burglar by the time she hit puberty with several daring heists to her resume. Called “Shade” by the commoners, she was well on her way to being a folk hero for her exploits

Like most thieves, she was always looking for that one last score that would allow her to retire in obscurity. In hindsight, stealing from the High Temple of the Sun in Vortigern was probably not the way to cap off a career.

At least the manhunt was epic. They nearly turned over the entire city in the search. In the end it was one consecrated piece of silver that allowed the priests to sniff our her trail and corner her in a back alley.

As far as the Kingdom knows, the thief known as “Shade” danced the hempen jig in front of thousands of witnesses for his crimes. In truth, that was some other poor soul. The real Shade was tossed into the Maw where, if she should survive, she might prove useful.

Talents

Can jigger a lock, pick a pocket, climb a wall, all while silent and cloaked in shadow. A master sneak thief, a good con-artist and a competent backstabber. Capable of talking, sneaking or bribing her way out of most any kind of trouble.

Flaws

Still young, not particularly sturdy, definitely not a front line fighter. Still a bit naive as to the ways of the upper classes and high politics.

Equipment

Officially, just the clothes on her back. Somehow she ended up with a mostly complete set of thieves tools, including lock picks, climbing crampons, knives and a fair bit of rope. Has a modest bit of coin tucked away in various pockets.

Miscellaneous

Jagg is the standard fantasy “young thief” character, only a bit older than normal by this point. Think Talen from Eddiings, early Skiff from Lackey or Jimmy the Hand from Feist.

The Black of Night - Urban Shadows

Damn. Okay, I've been notified that I have to return to the office this week. I expected another couple of months of work-from-home, but that's apparently not going to happen. I work for the state and their firewall is no joke, so I'm not even going to be able to access the Guild for most of the day.

I think I'm going to have to drop out. I'm about to have a fraction of the time I've gotten used to having.

The Black of Night - Urban Shadows

3

Argh.

The Black of Night - Urban Shadows

Aliyah stared at the empty space for a moment, then looked around. Somehow - magically - no one else seemed to notice that a large black man had suddenly vanished. Well, that confirmed it. Far be it from her to ignore the warnings of a Loa. Particularly one that filled out a pair of dress pants like that.

Dammit. Her aunts were right, she needed to start dating again.

So. Giselle was being attacked. She was defended by her own musical thoughts. She thought about music constantly, so that's no small thing. But eventually it would break through. Aliyah had to stop it, and soon.

She absently sipped her drink, then flinched. Somehow her rum-and-coke had become a rum-and-rum, with a splash of rum. Really GOOD rum, better than the club ever served. She sipped it again, respectfully. The Baron would probably frown on someone who wasted good booze.

Did Giselle even know she was being attacked? Like most of the fea, and the fae-adjacent, she could be flighty. Well, it was a good thing she had a friend with the last name of Schilling.

Aliyah dug through her handbag and came up with a handful of silver dimes. No good conjure woman left home without a few. On a cocktail napkin she scrawled out part of Psalm 7 in King James English, "O LORD my God, in thee do I put my trust: save me from all them that persecute me, and deliver me ..." The Schillings were no longer Christian but respected the power of the traditions. Ordering a shot of local whiskey she spilled three drops across the napkin before wrapping it around the dimes.

That was the nice thing about hoodoo. You could use local ingredients. Now she just needed a bag to contain it.

She wove her way through the crowded club until she reached the bar. The bartender was Janice, a pneumatic brunette who was probably a were. She seemed to be able to smell just how drunk her customers were.

"Janice, Grunge Night was last week, wasn't it? You have any flannel shirts in lost-and-found that no one has claimed?"

With an expressive eyeroll, Janice can out with an armload of fabric. Aliyah wasn't sure why all of the old hoodoo medicine workers used red flannel. Maybe it was all they had. Regardless, it was what she used for hoodoo talismans. A few rips and a bit of quick stitching from her mending kit gave her a flannel bag. In went the dimes and napkin. She sewed it closed and gave it an experimental shake. It *clinked* lightly, which was perfect.

It wasn't a great talisman, but it would hold for a few days until the silver dimes tarnished completely. That would buy Giselle some time while Aliyah investigated the "Black Maaaaajic."

Now to catch Giselle after she finished her set.

Summary

Aliyah makes a talisman to protect Giselle. She'll give it to Giselle after the show. I'll write that scene tomorrow if nothing else happens.

The Black of Night - Urban Shadows

Aliyah blinked at the image framed in smoke. Quickly she dove into her handbag and came up with a vial of pure white powder. A flick sent a palm-full of the powder into the air, and Aliyah peered through it. The shimmering powder darkened noticeably in the air, finally turning pure black before settling on the floor. Aliyah hissed through her teeth.

"Goddess, whatever that is, it's nasty. I don't recognize the hand behind it. Do you know where it's coming from?"

The Black of Night - Urban Shadows

Aliyah's eyebrows went up when the man first appeared, then kept climbing as she took in the top hat and the nose plugs. In Corvus Bay there was no predicting who - or what - you would meet. Best to be respectful of everyone. They could be a king in disguise. Or at least a Baron.

"What do you see when you look at her?" he enquired, gesturing to Giselle with his cigar.

At his question she turned her eyes to Giselle. All five feet two inches of her, and that was with the boots and the crown of hair. Bearer of the legendary harp Durabald, carved by the fairy, older than human civilization, now reshaped into a Strat and chewing through the opening chords of "Stand Up and Shout" by Dio. A woman who cried at cat memes and would someday level one of the oldest of the Fae courts.

"She's unique. She's reformed this band a least a dozen times in the two years I've known her, but this time it might stick. They seem tight."

Giselle always insisted on an all-woman band. Something to do with the flow of the magic. The vocalist was going for the Joan Jett black leather look, and pulling it off nicely. Giselle always had a problem finding a lead singer, since they would be the one at the sharp end if the magic went wrong. Alas, Giselle simply didn't have the pipes to do it herself.

"I'd never call myself a fan of golden age heavy metal, but I like their energy. They love what they're doing..."

She turned her eyes back to her new companion.

"... and of course you'd have to be three kinds of dead not the feel the magic thrumming underneath it all. I trust them, but if they play "Smoke on the Water" I may move closer to the door."

The Black of Night - Urban Shadows

Debt Owed to Giselle Rainwalker

(All due respects to Gael Baudino)
Her name was Giselle Rainwalker, and you just had to look at her to know she came from a magical place. A place of glamour and spectacle. A place known as the 80s.

The blonde hair goes up and back, and she's obviously trying to bring back the hole in the ozone layer by herself. The hippie skirt and wrap clash with the AC/DC tour t-shirt. She came into Corvus Bay five years ago, playing with a band called "Pixies from Hell." The band rolled up, blew up, broke down and then everyone but her blew town. She's now forming a band called "Gossamer Axe" playing classic heavy metal. Tonight they're going to be playing at The Moon's Gift, and she wants Aliyah to be there.

She is human on a technicality. She spent two real-world decades - 1991-2011 - in the Fairy Realms, and due to the time dilation effect of the Fea realm she experience a century or more. She soaked up so much magic and music - synonyms to some of the distant Fae - that she's mostly fae herself. She's a shit-hot guitar player, and that's all on her, playing an axe carved from the wood of a fairy harp.

She wants to be better. She left someone behind in the Fairy Realms, and she's honing her craft to get them back. Someday she'll smash the gates of the fairy castle with the power of epic metal. She just needs the right songs, and the right band to play them. Someday.

Two years ago Aliyah was investigating a Faun who was seducing his way through the younger female portion of the community. Aliyah finally confronted him at a club, but found herself not as immune to his glamour as she'd thought. Then Giselle took the stage and hit the Faun with some riffs from Randy Rhoads-era Ozzy. It shredded his glamour, smashed his enchantments to powder and shipped him out of town on the Crazy Train. She doesn't acknowledge the debt herself - kicking out douchebags is just one of the perks of the job - but Aliyah feels it keenly.

Not enough to show up at her gigs, though. But if Giselle is reaching out, she must want to talk about something.

Debt owed to Aliyah by Dray Dominic

The person who put Aliyah onto the trail of the Faun was Dray Dominic, a Tainted, but from the other direction. Dray is not a human who sold his soul, he's a demon who settled on earth. He's an Imp -- pretty much the lowest of the low in the ranks of Hell. He wriggled out of his assigned duties in Tartarus and made a place for himself committing low level mischief in Corvus Bay.

He's an independent drug dealer, selling fairly benign party drugs and MJ at low enough prices that he doesn't attract the attention of any big players. Sometimes he'll buy one of Aliyah's concoctions to sell. Aliyah considers him the least of the evils in Corvus Bay and so hasn't hassled him.

Dray met the Faun at a party when the Faun tried to pick up a woman that Dray was trying to sell to. They butted heads. Literally, since they both have horns in their natural form. The Faun won, and Dray got pissy and asked Aliyah to get rid of the guy. Aliyah did - for her own reasons and with the help of Giselle - and now a debt is owed.

Dwelling

Aliyah lives in a small but well-made house in the south-eastern corner of Corvus Bay, just south of the Bay itself. It sits on land that was once used to grow rice, back before the Civil War. It has belonged to the Schilling family for over a century now, but Aliyah is the first to have built a house here.

Most of the land is turned over to a massive herb-and-vegetable garden. A sprawling ranch house - no basements this close to the waterline - sits wrapped in fencing and honeysuckle. The outside looks simple and inviting, with a long porch complete with rocking chairs and windchimes. A chicken coop is off to the side with a trio of frizzle chickens and a frizzle rooster named Bocephus.

The inside is bigger than the outside. (you saw that coming, didn't you?) There's a extensive kitchen just for processing herbs and other ingredients, and a smaller kitchen for food. A summoning room, a library, and a room just for Imani the cat. Aliyah's bedroom sits in the middle, warded straight to hell and back.

The fact that the card was slid under the door was in itself alarming. Aliyah had carefully chosen the door and frame to prevent any vapors from getting in, or out. The whole area was sprinkled with goofer dust - a sort of all-purpose Hoodoo hex powder - which prevented anyone with mischief in mind from getting close to the house.

Drying her hands on a kitchen towel, Aliyah studied the card as it lie on the floor. The front - the part she could see - showed a darkened room with an image of the full moon projected on the ceiling. The Moon's Gift. But they weren't the sort to advertise, were they? If you were the sort to go there, you already knew about it.

She flipped the card over with her toe. Huh. Not too many people would be writing her in sparkly purple ink. Or signing off with a sketch of metal horns. Giselle then.

So Giselle had a new band together? Third this year. They were playing at The Moon's Gift. Normally Aliyah would have made up some conflict and apologized, but if Giselle was sending a physical card then it must be more than just "Hey, check this out!" And if it weren't for Giselle Aliyah would have ended up in a janitor's closet with that faun.

Time to hit the wardrobe and see if she had anything suitable for clubbing.

---

A few hours - and some hasty laundry - later, and Aliyah was in front of the Moon's Gift. It was tucked away in the trendy district, crunched between a fusion restaurant and an art gallery. The bouncer at the door was a troll. A literal troll, although he just looked like a big, ugly man. Amazing what you could do with a charcoal suit and a good tailor.

"Hey Keith! How are things? You still with Chrishell?"

The troll's face split in a granite smile. Sometimes it was nice to be a local fixture.

Aliyah shot the breeze with Keith for a minute until a line started to form, then paid the cover charge and slid down the stairs. The club itself was dimly lit - duh - with most of the light coming from the image of the moon projecting on the ceiling. It waxed and waned thought the night, giving a feeling of time slipping by.

Aliyah was early enough that the moon was still a waxing sliver in one corner of the room. She'd just grabbed a table - really, a frisbee with legs - and ordered the mandatory rum-and-coke when Giselle made her appearance ...