Attention thrillseekers!

Liam HP: 18/18 AC: 18 Perception +5 Fort +7 Ref +6 Will +5 Liam was born and raised here. Some would say he is an unfortunate soul, but he's never seen it that way. Despite being sheltered by his family, he has always understood this city in an odd, intuitive way - and now that he's no longer sheltered, he has adapted to his new lifestyle quite well. There was an... adjustment periodfeel free to imagine several brief flashbacks of Liam getting conned, mugged, etc., but now, things are looking up. The young swordsman wears an air of confidence as he strides into Procan's temple and bows his head to those who are already gathered. "Greetings, my name is Liam."

BOZ ROGUE 1 HP: 18/18 | AC: 18 | Perception: +5, Low-Light Fort: +5 | Ref: +9 | Will: +5 Racket - ThiefNothing beats the thrill of taking something that belongs to someone else, especially if you can do so completely unnoticed. You might be a pickpocket working the streets, a cat burglar sneaking through windows, or even a consultant, testing clients’ vaults for openings. When a fight breaks out, you prefer swift, lightweight weapons, and you strike where it hurts. When you attack with a finesse melee weapon or finesse melee unarmed attack, you can add your Dexterity modifier to damage rolls instead of your Strength modifier. | Spells PreparedDetect Magic at Will | SkillsAcrobatics +7  Arcana +4 Athletics +3 Crafting +4  Deception +5 Diplomacy +5 Intimidation +5  Lore: Underworld +4 Occultism +4 Stealth +7 Thievery +7 | Sneak AttackWhen your enemy can't properly defend itself, you take advantage to deal extra damage. If you Strike a creature that has the off-guard condition with an agile or finesse melee weapon, an agile or finesse unarmed attack, a ranged weapon attack, or a ranged unarmed attack, you deal an extra 1d6 precision damage. For a ranged attack with a thrown melee weapon, that weapon must also be agile or finesse. As your rogue level increases, so does the number of damage dice for your sneak attack. Increase the number of dice by one at 5th, 11th, and 17th levels.| Extra Space HereForeshadowing Well, he liked it here. He could see his career requiring him to head somewhere larger at one point, but for now Port Torvin was home. Port Torvin was home and the Guild was Family. A few days ago he was running a bit short on funds, sure - but what does someone like him do when he's short on funds? Goes out and Steals some, of course. Oh, don't look like that. Port Torvin's local Thieves Guild was right respectable, it was. This wasn't random crime and cruelty for no reason, this was thieves using their heads and bein' organized about this. You know when the last time was that the Guild killed someone for somethin' other then Self-Defense? Honest question, if it's ever happened Boz didn't know about it either. Professionals, have Standards. Rules. Do this nice and proper, aye? Boz has that hungry look in his eyes of someone that's had to work, or steal, for everything he's had in life. He keeps his eyes open, his knives sharp, and his mind racing just to survive and it kind of shows. Tends for darker clothing with hoods and often walks on the balls of his feet just out of habit. A bit on the short side with short hair, but also a bit on the handsome side so it kind of evens out. His face always has a smirk on it like he's on the inside of a joke nobody else was. Maybe he was. Seemed that way sometimes. And the night Boz heard of the job, he was in the middle of another one. Not alone, always best to at least work a job in a pair. Someone can keep on the detail work while someone else keeps eyes open. The dark of night never did bother him too much, there was a joke that he had some Catfolk blood in him but Boz knew the truth. Yeah, he did have something special in his eyes and in his blood - but that's not what was it. "Hold on, bruv. Something wrong with the Lock." The day Boz realized that he could naturally see Magic when most others couldn't was an interesting one. And he hasn't told many people about it sense. Magic door lock. Not by a lot. Could just make an alarm noise if someone messes with it without the key, maybe it's just harder to pick. Something like that. Either way, Boz goes for going around the side. The front door lock had a spell on it maybe but not the employee entrance. That was a harder pick, but it worked. The job news came from when they fenced the prizes. Of course, thieves talk among themselves. He couldn't think of any particularly good scores on the horizon so it didn't seem like checking out the temple work wouldn't do any harm. Now, just to keep stories straight - maybe they don't advertize that they're Thieves, especially from the Guild. Aye? "'Allo. Jus' call me Boz, his name is Nico. Say 'Allo, Nico. We're Acrobats. Rough times at the Carnival circuit." he gives. It's probably not a great story but it might be good enough for now. "Hear the God of Fish might have a job, aye?" Tabletop Exploration Activity: Action 1: Action 2: Action 3: Reaction:

Sorry, just realized I never responded to you outside of my head. Alright, Ena and Cullen are different people. More experienced proper crooks passing lessons to the younger generation. Feels like these two would know each other then, almost certainly have done jobs together. Possibly even grew up next to each other. If so, do kind of like the idea that Boz's rep in the guild says young but lucky- and a chunk of the secret behind Boz's luck is that Boz has an extra sense or two you normally only see in particularly dedicated magic users. Boz just naturally *sees* magic like it's just another color on the spectrum and Nico knows about it. Just a thought.

Woot, Woot!

AC: 18 | HIT POINTS: 18 | CURRENT: 18 | HERO POINTS: 1 FORTITUDE: +3 | REFLEX: +9 | WILL: +6 | PERCEPTION: +6 ACTIVE EFFECTS: None. CONDITIONS: None. Actions. "Speech" Thoughts. Out of Character Free Action: Reaction: Action 1: Action 2: Action 3:

AC: 18 | HIT POINTS: 18 | CURRENT: 18 | HERO POINTS: 1 FORTITUDE: +3 | REFLEX: +9 | WILL: +6 | PERCEPTION: +6 ACTIVE EFFECTS: None. CONDITIONS: None. When Enoch Hawkmoor first set foot in Port Torvin, the sharp scent of salt and fish assaulted his senses, mingling with the less savory odors of a bustling port town. His arrival was not heralded by fanfare or recognition; instead, it was marked by the subtle nod of a dockworker and the indifferent glances of hurried sailors. The city was a tangled web of commerce and corruption, a far cry from the noble courts of Furyondy where he was raised. His first days were spent gathering information, his innate mistrust of authority sharpened by the whispers of street urchins and the secretive glances of the townsfolk. He learned of the missing orphans, tales that pulled at his sense of justice. Driven by his own sense of duty, he prowled the darker corners of Port Torvin, tracing the children's fate to a grim discovery—they were being press-ganged into service by unscrupulous sailors under a corrupt dockmaster's command. Determined to end this exploitation, Enoch confronted the sailors at the docks. His blade flashed in the dim light of the evening, a beacon of his unwavering resolve. The clash was brutal and swift; sailors found themselves outmatched but not before they called for reinforcements. The dockmaster, a pudgy man with a crooked nose and a crookeder sense of morality, arrived flanked by his personal guards. The altercation escalated, and though Enoch fought valiantly, the numbers overwhelmed him. Bruised and battered, Enoch was dragged to the local jailhouse, a dank, stone building that reeked of mold and despair. The cell he was thrown into was small, cramped, and cold. The iron bars were rusted, the stone walls seeped with moisture, and the straw on the floor was musty. Yet, even in such dire circumstances, Enoch's resolve did not waver. He spent a restless night, his mind racing through plans of redemption and thoughts of the innocent children forced into servitude. The guards, a mixture of wary veterans and indifferent conscripts, kept a cautious eye on him. They had heard tales of his combat prowess, exaggerated by each retelling. One young guard, curious more than cautious, struck up a conversation. Enoch, ever the tactician, used the opportunity to glean more information about the dockmaster's operations and the guard's own views on the corruption gnawing at the city's underbelly. Come morning, Enoch was released—his actions deemed more heroic than criminal, thanks to the intervention of a few locals he had helped since arriving in town. His possessions, though slightly tampered, were returned, but most of his coin was missing. Stepping out into the bright light of dawn, Enoch felt the weight of his temporary defeat, yet the fire within him burned brighter, fueled by injustice and the need for redemption. He gathered his belongings, his armor clinking with each movement, a reminder of the battles fought and those yet to come. As he walked through the streets, heading towards the temple of Procan, his mind was a whirl of plans and possibilities. Minerva was deeply engaged in her reluctant conversation with Hecuba, her tone laced with irritation and resignation, when the temple door creaked open once more. Enoch Hawkmoor stepped in, his arrival marked by the muted echo of his heavy boots against the aged stone floor of the temple. He paused just inside the entrance, catching snippets of Minerva's dialogue with her familiar. As she complained about the indignity of having to deal with a temple of Procan, Enoch couldn’t help but overhear her lament over the lesser significance of a sea god. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly; the diverse pantheons of gods, both minor and major, had always been a peripheral concern in his life—useful when needed, but not a driving force. His appearance was noticeably rough—a stark contrast to her meticulous, though stained, red cloak. His armor bore the dents and scratches of recent skirmishes, and his face showed signs of a man who had spent a night less in bed and more in brawl. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, there was an earnestness in his approach, a deliberate respectfulness that balanced his rugged exterior. He cleared his throat softly, announcing his presence before he came too close, not wanting to startle her or seem as though he was eavesdropping intentionally. “Pardon the interruption,” Enoch began, his voice a raspy contrast to her crisp tones. "I couldn’t help but overhear a bit about your predicament." He stepped into the light filtering through the stained glass, which painted his face in vibrant, if not somewhat jarring, colors. “I’m Enoch Hawkmoor,” he continued, extending a hand in greeting, rough but firm. “Seems we might be in similar straits, searching for passage out of circumstances rather than Port Torvin itself. If you're inclined, perhaps we could pool our resources. Temple work might not be the loftiest of endeavors, but it often pays in more ways than coin.” Out of Character Free Action: Reaction: Action 1: Action 2: Action 3:

Yay!

MINERVA HECATE WITCH 1 HP: 16/16 | AC: 16 | Perception: +4 Fort: +5 | Ref: +5 | Will: +6 ResourcesFocus Points 1/1 | Spells PreparedCANTRIPS Electric Arc Light Mage Hand Needle Darts Shield 1ST LEVEL Fear Summon Animal HEXES Discern Secrets (Hex Cantrip) Phase Familiar | SkillsAcrobatics +5 🅣 Arcana +7 🅣 Athletics +0 Crafting +7 🅣 Deception +0 Diplomacy +0 Intimidation +3 🅣 Lore: Academia +7 🅣 Medicine +0 Nature +4 🅣 Occultism +7 🅣 Performance +0 Religion +4 🅣 Society +7 🅣 Stealth +5 🅣 Survival +0  Thievery +0 | FamiliarPerception +5  Speed 25 feet HP 5/5 AC 15 Fortitude +5  Reflex +5  Will +6  Familiar Ability: Fly Familiar Ability: Speech Master Ability: Share Senses| Summon Stats (Empty)Content... The human woman in the red cloak moves slowly through the streets of Port Torvin, watching carefully where she puts her feet. Yesterday, she'd carelessly stepped in a puddle of what she hoped was water, and the stain was still visible on the hem of her cloak. As she walks, a gust of wind blows her cloak open, revealing steel-gray robes beneath, belted with a thin chain of gold links. The grim expression on her face says she is not to be trifled with. Minerva had not intended to be in Port Torvin to begin with, much less to remain here for as long as she had. She'd intended this to be a short stop on a longer journey. She'd bought passage on a ship, which was supposed to only dock here for one night on its journey across the Azure Sea. She'd been on the hunt for a long, lost manuscript, which described some... thing which dwelt beyond the stars. She'd combed libraries for years, searching for clues, only to finally find the hint that might actually lead her to the prize. Her hands clench as she rues her decision to spend one night sleeping in a bed that stayed still. It turns out the sailors were smugglers, and there had been a dispute with either customs agents or the local thieves' guild--Minerva had been unable to determine which, which might suggest they the two groups were one and the same--which resulted in the smugglers leaving port in the dead of night. That had been a week ago, and now Minerva finds herself without enough funds to pay for passage out of Port Torvin to somewhere civilized. What she would give for access to a decent library! As she stalks through the streets, a large white owl flies down and lands on her shoulder. Minerva bends her head near it, whispering, "Yes, I know, Hecuba. It is a paying job. Yes, it is the only lead we have on something to replenish our funds. But, it is temple work." She says this with special distaste evident in her voice. "Temple work always comes with strings attached and rules to be followed. Yes, temples do tend to pay promptly, Hecuba. But it's a sea god! Not even a proper deity like Wee Jas or even Boccob! I would have something to talk about with a cleric of Wee Jas. What am I to discuss with a cleric of Procan? Fish?" Minerva makes a dismissive snort. Yet her walk takes her ever and ever closer to the temple. When she arrives, she is in a foul mood. She snaps at the acolyte who greets her at the door. "I am Minerva Hecate, practitioner of the arcane arts. I have come in response to the request for adventurers." This had better be worth it, she thinks to herself. Still, if Hecuba wants her to take the job, she should listen. The few times she has ignored her familiar have provoked her patron's ire. She has learned to listen when the familiar speaks, as it is often her patron's will. Tabletop Exploration Activity: Action 1: Action 2: Action 3: Reaction:

We are live!!!!!

Location: Port Torvin, Hold of the Sea Princes Two days ago, you were all roaming the streets of Port Torvin. Work, as of late, has been lax, and your funds have been dwindling over the past few weeks. You think to yourself with every coin taken from your purse, "If I don't get some work soon, I'll become one of those beggars in the streets, scraping for scraps." However, word reaches your ears, whether through a notice on the community board or a messenger looking for you in particular, that the high priest of the temple devoted to Procan, the lord of oceans, is in need of experienced adventurers for a job opportunity. Curious, you take up the offer to at least listen to what's needed. You straighten and neaten yourselves up, put on your best airs, and march off to the temple. GM: From here, you can set yourself up with how you arrived at Port Torvin. If you've been here already, describe where you were and what you were doing when the word reached your ear.

Wasn't even going for that, but I'll take it. And yeah, obviously at some point Papa-Jerk figures it out. Might be a bit depending on how some cards are played, but it'll happen. Wouldn't have it any other way.

And I head "That's adorable" in Chris Hardwick's voice... :D

Works for me. Granted, you guys won't be in PT for very long...

No worries. It's been a heck of a week for me too. Start day is still slated for 1 May, 2 May at latest. Stay frosty! Next couple of weeks may be a bit rough. Friday I have to drive out to get my kid from college, then Saturday we do Free Comic Day, then drive to Boston for a day trip and then to Salem to drop him back off... and then he's home (end of semester) middle of next week. I've got Season 1 Episode 1 done, re-working Episode 2... then on to Season 2, 3, and the like. Everything evolving as we play.

Sorry, it's been a long week. I will try to get Enoch's impressions of the rest of the party completed in the next day or two.

That's because I grabbed a template and popped it in on my phone yesterday but didn't have a chance to sit down at my computer and edit it. I'm working on cleaning it up. Thanks for letting me know. I've picked another color and checked how it looks in Dark Mode. Let me know if that's still a problem.

I was actually thinking similar once I saw Boz was in the game. 2 young upstarts. One with a few heists behind him, one gone bad recently. Then you have Nico this bright eyed friendly dimwit that hasn't personally had anything go sideways on him suddenly yet. I kinda want Cullen to be her own character if that's ok. If only to have the underground thieves guild world feel bigger as a result. However -- Cullen and Ena should absolutely know one another! She'd definitely be privy to the plot at hand and Ena's plight.

Don't mean to cross threads like this, but Nico and Boz seems particularly historically compatable. Want to go full Thieves Guild? Have Master Cullen be higher ranked in the guild? Heck, have her full name be Ena Cullen and we can have the same mother-figure in both the backstories.

We seem to be on similiar pages. :P Awww, that's adorable. Yeah, maybe it's a branch office of a bigger guild but I do figure I could meet other players halfway on this. Boz is a proper Guilded Thief, and that implies not only crime but enough crime that there's a systemic and organized approach to criminal activity but there are rules the rest of society benefits from. It doesn't have to be puppy-rainbows nice but rules like "avoid unnecessary violence and only kill in kill-or-be-killed situations" and "don't steal from those worse off then you are" can be among them. It might even be a thing that a percentage of takes go toward community projects. Some of the motivation might genuinely be altruism, but just as likely it's just the guild trying to intentionally invoke the power of PR. [Got to have a reason that the Paladin and the Rogue can be in the same room.] It's entirely possible that dad thinks Boz is dead at this point actually. So yeah, he won't come up much *at first* but that can change as Boz gets noticed.

Okay anything you need to know from me before hand? Vice versa?

Yeah, I'm also seeing broken images and such.

Gotcha. I didn't even know there was a dark mode. Oddly enough, the page renders a lot of errors on my side.

Thieves' Guild -- Port Torvin does have its share of organizations. Not all of them are as unprincipled as one would think. I'm putting it that there is one - small as it is - that isn't inclined to violence. Cons, the odd pickpocketing in crowds or breaking and entering, just so long as no one gets hurt. Take from those that can afford it. Some of what's obtained even goes to help others. Well, not those in the Beggars' Guild, they do pretty well for themselves as it is... I'm not playing too much into the politics of the world. Back in that era, I doubt that really came into play, at least not when I was playing back then. Whether your father is from the Port Torvin area, or even from the Sea Princes' Hold region is up to you. It sounds like your ol' Dad wasn't around much, in fact likely despises you... that is, if he's kept tabs on you, which is likely, but probably not high on his list of what's important.

Groovy, now might be a good time to do some fine tweaking for the setting if you want to maximize some hook potential. Off the top of my head - Boz’s archmage father’s identity can be tweaked. I’m picturing someone who is a particularly powerful wizard and is considered an archmage, but maybe knowing more for their political power than magical power. I like the idea that Boz is in a thieves guild, I don’t know the setting well enough to pick one. I am thinking of the more morally gray ones though, at least not one that’s known for murder. Maybe even one that frowns on its members killing people outside of self-defense situations, if maybe more because they feel like that says you’re not a very good thief than out of actual morals.

Just a heads up. That text color is hard to read for folks using in dark mode.