POOHEAD189

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The Sunday Group - Seeds and Harvests

"Stay here," Alcander told Teajay and Eleanor, gently lowering himself into the storage room. The three of them weren't super close, but he felt they knew well enough he was not trying to coddle or patronize them. He wanted to see the crime scene first, as he had the most extensive background in investigations. Unfortunately, as he lowered himself, he realized the water damage had done more to ruin the crime scene than a bull could have. His boots touched the wooden floor with a wet smack. Under him was a soaked copy of a once-beautiful limited edition copy of Crime and Punishment.

They did not remove the roof when it was pouring, he surmised. Otherwise they would have risked destroying whatever they wanted to find. Magic could have come into play, but the more mundane answer was likely the most probable, even considering the 'orgy of evidence' they had found on various arcane practices. The beams of light from above cut a swathe through the piles of mostly useless books and memorabilia, catching the waves of dust freely floating in the air.

Logic dictates that they were attempting to acquire a book, unless some small nick-knack looking object was their primary target. Unfortunately he could not even begin to wade through the majority of these books, even if they were not weather-beaten. He stepped idly through the mounds of wet paper and leather, making his way to the door that led further into the building. He checked to make sure it was still locked, using a cloth to mask his fingerprints, before a dias caught his eyes.

Alcander approached, surprised to find the auction ledger already opened. He glanced up, as if he did not already know the hole in the roof was not present above him. It was opened on page 34, with a list of dates, items, and relative locations. He looked for creases on the paper, something a man in a hurry might leave. Alcander's observant eye caught a crease and a peculiar name, simultaneously.

"Van de Oneindige Mogelijkheden Van Inkt," He murmured, running a finger over the name. It was one of the few volumes not titled in english. His mind reached back into his years in academia, trying to decipher the words. He was no linguist, but he liked to think he had a better grasp on langauage than most people. If his hunch was right, it roughly translated to: "From...the... infinite...." He couldn't decipher the rest, and he ran a hand through his hair. They could check the translation later. Instead he checked the log, eyes scanning the location it was supposed to be stashed in. The detective turned and rummaged through the book pile that had mercifully been spared from the weather, only to realize after a minute that the search was futile.

The Grimoire was missing.

He strode back under the light, gazing up at the two women who still peered down. Alcander shielded his eyes from the dull light. "I think I know what they were looking for..."

My very totally 100% formal hello

@Dragon Arts I'll trust you. And welcome!

The colourful threads in a troubadour's vest

The talking had been soft at first. Ali had almost drifted back to sleep, thinking the man belligerent but not brazen enough to actually harm Kirsi or to force his way in. The bed was so warm and he was still fatigued. However, that all changed when the door flew open, banging against the wall so hard it was like a blacksmith's hammer ringing against steel. Ali blinked, and the part of his mind that had kept listening flew back into focus.

"She hasn't touched me, save to heal my wounds, sir." Ali remarked in a tired voice. He spoke with a weaker cadence, wanting the man to think him at death's door. "She's been very kind to me. You can ask the villagers. They saw her help bring me in from the road. It was a wolf attack."

The servant only glanced at Ali, his eyes scanning the apothecary instead. He had the look of a man searching for some ill-gotten gains. Ali knew the type. Upjumped thieves given a small amount of power and stretching it to its limits, trying to gain an edge over the common folk they had so much in common with. Luckily, he seemed unsatisfied with what he found, and turned his attention back to Ali, sizing him up like a dull knife he had little use for.

"As you say, sir. But this whore is tricky, and I don't trust you if you're under her spell." He said. "Gods know a woman like her could bewitch any man."

"Sir, if you're here for your lordship... what does a life like mine matter? It's in her interest to have her gift prepared on time, as ordered. She would not waste valuable time on me if it led to her being late for your master." Ali coughed. "Let her resume her work. I'll be dead soon enough anyway."

The man sneered. "True enough..." He said, and glared at Kirsi before shoving a pot of herbs onto the floor. The earthenware shattered, scattering herbs and shards of pottery. "Hopefully that does not make her any more tardy," He said with a laugh, and walked back out of the door, not even bothering to close it.

Fortune & Glory: Grimdark Pulp RP

Beren wiped the sweat from his brow, but he spotted blood on the back of his hand when he pulled it away. The warrior monk blinked and reached up, gingerly checking for a wound. There was a small cut across his scalp, but nothing major. They would take care of it when they could.

"Here, let me." Jocasta said, stepping forward, a cloth in her hand. Beren had no idea where she had been stashing it, but he chalked it down to magic and leaned down so she could give the cut a good once over.

"Thanks Jo," Beren breathed. Behind them Buri lamented their situation in dwarvish, and Beren was glad Jocasta wasn't privvy to the meaning. The Dwarves were a fatalistic people at the best of times, and Buri was not what one called a brave dwarf. In fact one might say he was mostly complaining about what he had not been able to finish in his life yet.

"It's not entirely selfless. We need you in good condition. Plus I got plans for that handsome face." She said with a wink. Whenever she did her nose wrinkled in a way Beren adored. He smiled, and with a quick swipe she wiped away the last of the blood. "There. Now tell me you have a plan."

"Find a way out of here?" Beren suggested.

"Good idea, but my earrings already searched the place." She reminded him, hands on her hips as she tried to think up something else. Beren walked passed her, scanning the tombs and alcoves for something, anything specific. Buri's wailing made it hard to think, but it was a good way to keep Beren's activities silent. He ran his hands along the walls, keen eyes brushing across the surface.

"Maybe they just didn't know where to look..." Beren muttured, and on the last word of his statement, there was a 'click'.

A slab of stone, too smoothly placed with the rest of the wall to see the crease by the naked eye, began to move slowly. Beren backed up, the portal yawning into a small passageway. If Beren was not mistaken, this was the part of the mausoleum against the rock wall, which meant this had to lead out somewhere. But where?

Pirates - Ye Be Warned

Galt was not tracker, but he had an eye for detail and the body to keep up with it. He and Jess hurried up the beach, the thief having grabbed a fallen cutlass and pistol from the eerie spot where the men had been taken. He hadn't asked permission, but to his surprise Jess hadn't cared. That meant she was too preoccupied in her worries or too desperate to really call him out, or perhaps both. He didn't blame her. Honestly he wondered why he was following her now, and after a brief moment of thought he judged his chances of survival with her, even going into the bosom of whatever eldritch horror that awaited, was better than waiting on the beach or rowing up to the ship of pirates who would likely look at him as a bit of sport. He imagined his legs dangling over the deck, neck broken from the heavy fall of a hanging, in the air day and night as the crew drank and took shots at his corpse.

No, he would take his chance with the woman, though doubtless he would regret it later. He had been in sticky situations before, he reminded himself. Hopefully his luck hadn't run out.

The two found a small but serviceable road cutting through the jungle, forming a yawning maw to enter like some gateway into another realm of reality. So out of place was it the thief and the pirate both looked at one another in confusion for a brief moment, unsure of what to do, before Jess casually brushed her thick braid behind her shoulder and strode forward. Galt followed close behind, weapons braced. The stones of the road seemed impossibly ancient, squared stones set together by impressively precise architects that were surprisingly clean. The symbols on the stones were mesmerizing, yet almost impossible to follow with your eyes. He found it hurt to keep looking, and so he kept his eyes ahead and around them. Jess led the way, sword held with the loose grip of a deadly swordsman. Somehow, he felt fairly confident walking with her, as if whatever monsters were ahead, he felt more sorry for them than the pirate captain.

The jungle was dense, ferns poking out from the enclosed 'walls' of foliage that surrounded them as they walked. Every now and then eyes would peer out at them, but when Galt would give a closer look, they would disappear as if they had never been. Galt kept alert, but as hoped for, the two did not run into an adversary until they reached the end of the road. In the distance, they saw the jungle parted, with two great torches alight, framing the road. Beyond them, a large mass of something half slithered, half wound past the opening. If Galt hadn't been mistaken, it held a huge axe in its hands.

"We need to get off the road and go arou-" Galt began to say, but Jess had already grabbed his forearm and pulled him into the jungle, the idea evidently coming to her at the same moment.

"Keep quiet, landlubber." She warned as Galt stumbled in. He found his footing, still not brazen enough to point out it was her yanking that had caused him to ruffle the foliage. He pulled a leaf out of his black head of hair and followed behind her, the captain move like a born skirmisher through the brush, until they both nestled behind a grove of ferns just before the treeline's ending. Beyond their hiding spot, the ziggurat loomed into the air. It dominated the landscape like a mountain, with an air of timelessness about it. If some scholar had told Galt it was as old as the sun, he might believe it.

obligatory intro

@hel sucks Welcome!

Death's Edge: A Warhammer Story

I swallowed the spiced bread, quite good by my estimation, and drank a bit of water to wash it down before I dabbed my mouth with a cloth. "I concur most judiciously. It seems Sigmar has brought us here for a reason. What priest would I be to ignore the summons of my esteemed deity?" I reasoned, my mind made up. The alderman's house was quite fine, but the Baron's manor would be a step up in comfort and prestige.

"Sometimes I cannot tell if you are speaking honestly when you talk of Sigmar." She replied. We both spoke in Tilean as we often did, though I do find her accent when she spoke imperial quite adorable.

I flashed a sly grin. "It's a mystery to me as well, my lover. Now I suggest we go and report this to our generous host. It would not do to leave a body lying in the street, particularly a body we might profit from." I advised, taking my staff in hand and rising from my seat. The hour was quite late, or early depending on who one asked. If luck was with us, no guard had stumbled upon the corpse.

It was our good fortune the alderman was an office meant to dispense justice. Camilla ruffled her hair up and rubbed her eyes, giving her the look of a woman that had just awoken. She followed behind me, my staff knocking on the bedroom door of the slumbering alderman. There was a grumbling, before the door opened. Gregor looked at us bleary eyed, incredulous.

"What is it, herr priest?" He asked tiredly, clearing trying to be polite despite what he deemed as an impolite interruption of his sleep. He changed his mind quite quickly when I informed him of the events of the past two hours, and when I looked at Camilla, her glorious dark eyes were wide with shock and amazingly there seemed to be real moisture brimming.

Sigmar, even I couldn't act that convincingly.

Darkhearts: A Forgotten Realms RP

"Yes, why not?" Amal asked casually, once Charynrae stepped past the bouncer and into the corridor. "Or maybe somewhere south from here. The weather is too cold up here. The liquor is too bitter and the women are too clothed." It was difficult to tell if he was joking or not. The thief spoke in a manner that was both candid yet flippant enough to seem too casual to be true. The two found a small corner table, only shared by a dwarf who had fallen asleep after four full mugs. He snored noisily, but at least it proved he was still asleep.

Amal held his hand up, waiting for the barman until he saw, giving the Calimshan man a nod. Amal grinned and set his hand back down.

"It's good to be someplace warm, finally." He confessed, turning back to Charynrae. He rested his fine chin on the palm of his hand, elbow resting on the table. The past week had been rough, even for someone used to harsh living like Amal. But Charynrae seemed tireless throughout it. He was actually impressed. She was wicked, ruthless, relentless, and quite pretty when she decided to show her face. Even now he could see the tip of her well proportioned nose and the silhouette of her heart-shaped face as she turned, glancing about for potential knives from behind.

"You never told me what your plans were for when we reached civilization." He reminded her. Behind Charynrae, he saw the barman point a waitress to head to their table, a comely woman with laugh lines and brown curls cascading down her back. She looked as tired as Amal felt. He only saw the waitress and the barman for a brief glimpse, however, eyes flicking back to the dark elf. "There's really no reason for us to keep traveling together unless there is some profit in it. That or you've grown to like me."

He flashed a grin. "Either way, I would know now how you feel on that score, so I can start thinking about where to go next. Am I having a traveling companion still, or shall we bid goodbye after a drink?"

Does anyone have any tips for an aspiring (small group) GM?

@Alix Best advice I could give is making sure you stay with the 3-4 limit. The hardest part about wanting to do a small group roleplay is seeing 7 people make characters you like (or you just like the person) and accepting them all. The temptation is always there. Just remain firm and you'll do grand.