The Society Debut (IC)

MidnightPoet · February 12

Zweitermon 24, Saturday Morning | The Red Masque Atelier | Lower Midtown, Altenheim

Weather: Overcast

Soundtrack: Leopoldines' Request (Evan Call)

Sometime before this morning, a letter was delivered to your person. It may have been slid under your door by a stranger, given to you by a friend and confidant, or obtained in some other way. Included in the letter was a dated voucher for a mask at the Red Masque Atelier and a curious note. The note reads:

Note

You who glimpsed behind the veil,

Witnessed Creation’s final law

And know Nature’s tooth and claw.

Weigh thy finger on the scale:

The Society invites you to the Red Masque

Hiding face and mind behind a veil

O life as futile, then, as frail.

A parliament of peers to discuss the task.

The voucher included in the letter was for a fashion boutique located in Lower Midtown. Along the way, you notice advertisements for an annual festival plastered throughout the town. It is an open invitation to all members of society—high and low—to a night of song and festivities at the Bard’s College. Costumes and masks have been placed on display throughout the city in preparation for the event, as artisans and merchants prepare for the influx of orders the event generates. Curiously however, the store you are invited to has no customers at all.

It is a warm and inviting shop, its shelves lined with accessories and masquerade masks of all shapes and sizes. A young woman with pointed ears sits behind the counter. The elf is an uncommon sight in the city, and looks slightly displeased as she greets you with a dispirited, “Sorry, but I don’t handle refunds.”

Edited February 26 by MidnightPoet (see edit history)

Inquisitor D · February 12

"That's... not the most encouraging thing to tell a new customer."

The short woman manages a chuckle. She clanks into the atelier, glancing up at the grand shelves and mannequins that fill the room around her. This is a very well appointed shop. She can't help but feel out of her element. She'd thought this would be more akin to what she was used to: a humble bare bones tailor with just a couple of displays. This place is so rich, so overstuffed with... with things! Everything here looks ready for the nobility as far as she can tell. Fine velvet, delicate silks, the most perfectly sculpted porcelain masks...

In other words, it's textbook Bürach. Excess over any sense. And here's Acolyte Irata Zabito: a diminutive mess of a foreigner, set apart only by her red cloak and tired expression. She couldn't feel less at home if she tried.

Still, a summons is a summons. She withdraws the voucher from a belt pocket, holding it out for the assistant's inspection. Irata waves a hand over herself: clad in leather and scale. She grins; a blush faintly forming on her cheeks. This isn't easy, but a little self deprecation helps numb the blow.

"I'm not one for fashion. Except my cloak. But... apparently tonight, I don't have a choice."

Before the store assistant can react however, Irata starts to put two and two together. This is an... odd way for a clerk to be acting. The whole city is busy, everyone's making orders for the Bardic Collage celebration. But the Red Masque is different. There's been no one here before now.

Maybe it's all fine. Part of this strange cloak and dagger setup. That's what she told herself when she got the letter. People trying to kill you don't give you a note and an invitation to get some nice clothes. But all the same, Irata can't help starting to feel uneasy. Someone else could be targeting her. Someone might have gotten ahead of the letter, already targeting the Red Masque. Perhaps this poor elven woman is here as a trap. It's not common to see elves in the city of joy, certianly not in Lower Midtown, right?

Irata keeps her hand outstretched, complete with the voucher. But now she eyes the store worker, offering her best approximation of a comforting smile.

"Are you all right?"

It's a very sincere question. The worry is obvious, in both Irata's eyes and tone. It's best to be cautious. Right?

rauhric · February 13

Zorjana Teodozja LN Human Noble, "Haunted" Sorceress | "Hexblade" Warlock [3]

• AC 17 • HP 19 • Init +4 • Passive Perception 13 • Devil's Sight 120' • Phantom Familiar

The shop is lovely, just like the ones her mother would take her when she was young. Zorjana looked about the shop and imagined herself young again and wondered where all those years went. She has spent those years in boarding school away from home and has finally returned to reclaim her lost freedom and family name. Now a "noble woman" again she is out shopping with her meager inheritance (500gp) for an outfit to wear at this annual festival; plus, it would seem someone had wanted her to come here.

Taking her time and letting the clerk deal with other customers she admires the dresses in the shop. It has been so long since she actually selected her own clothes that she seems unsure of what to wear and what her style would be like. Grabbing a couple of dresses she makes her way to the dressing room and tries them on. For the past several years she has dressed in school uniforms that lacked any sense of personal style, but now she can pick the style most appropriate to her, but what will that be?

After a considerable amount of time and trying on different styles she selects the items she will wear to this festival. Taking her items to the counter she tells the clerk in Higher Bürach "I want these items." She put the voucher on the counter so the clerk can easily see it. Zorjana studies the clerk for a moment to take in her expressions and demeanor when she sees the voucher; hoping to discover if there is more to it than just a random advertisement to a local boutique.

OoC: Insight on Clerk showing her the voucher

Items selected - dress, mask, and cloak

Phantom Familiar

Antonas Dragan Teodozja [Phantom Familiar | medium undead]

• AC 12 • HP 22 • Passive Perception 10 • Darkvision 60' • Fly 50'
• Damage Resistance: acid, cold, fire, lightning, thunder, and bludgeoning, piercing, slashing from non-magic attacks
• Damage Immunity: necrotic, poison
• Condition Immunities: charmed, exhaustion, grappled, paralyzed, petrified, poisoned, prone, restrained, unconscious

• Incorporeal Movement: can move through creatures and objects as if they were difficult terrain; specter takes 1d10 (5) force damage if ends turn inside an object.
• Sunlight Sensitivity: in sunlight specter has disadvantage on attacks and perception checks (sight).

• AVAILABLE @3rd Life Drain Attack (Action): melee spell attack +4, range 5' (1 target), 3d6 necrotic damage DC 10 Con save or target's Max HP reduced by damage taken (last until long rest). Target dies if effect reduces target's HP to Zero.

Edited February 14 by rauhric (see edit history)

8w_gremlin · February 13

Thrain Ironfist Dwarven Artificer 3

Hp: 27/27 | Ac: 14 | Init: +0 | Perception: 12 | Insight: 12 | Investigation: 16
STRSave: +0
Athletics: +0 10, DEXSave: +0
Acrobatics +0
Slight of Hand +0
Stealth +0 10, CONSave: +5 16, INTSave: +6
Arcane +6
History +4
Investigation +6
Nature +4
Religion +4 19, WISSave: +0
Animal Handling +0
Insight +2
Perception +2
Medicine +0
Survival +0 10, CHASave: +2
Deception +2
Intimidation +2
Performance +2
Persuasion +2 14

Upon receiving the unexpected invitation to the masquerade ball, Thrain Ironfist stepped away from his usual world of gears and shadows, venturing towards the customer’s shop with a different kind of mission in mind.

The place was a sanctuary of creativity, where fabric and design transcended mere fashion to touch upon the essence of one's soul, or so Thrain thought. Initially out of his element amid the lush textiles and vibrant colours, was guided by an unspoken connection to the deeper values he lived by—values that resonated with the spirit of sacrifice and heroism, he sought no overt emblem of any Seraph, but perhaps a nod to Morael.

The mask that eventually drew Thrain’s attention did so with understated elegance; it was crafted from darkened steel, with subtle silver inlays that caught the light with every movement. These inlays were not explicit symbols but rather evoked a sense of wings unfurling, suggesting perhaps freedom and protection from life's misery. It was a mask that, to any onlooker, would appear as a simple choice of aesthetics, yet for Thrain, it represented a nod to the inner strength and the quiet sacrifices made in the shadows— echoing the virtues of compassion and heroism without a word.

His choice of attire was similarly influenced by an unspoken homage to those ideals, and the Seraph, he most revered. He selected a coat of deep blue, almost black, its fabric soft yet resilient, reminiscent of the night sky just before dawn breaks. Silver threads were woven throughout, not in any discernible pattern but as if to mimic the random beauty of stars, each stitch a silent acknowledgement of the small lights of hope and courage that shine in the darkness. As Thrain donned this ensemble, he was not merely preparing to join a night of disguise and revelry; he was embodying a testament to the enduring spirit of those who give of themselves, wrapped in the subtlety of a costume that whispered of sacrifice and the strength found in compassion, or so he hoped.

"these will do, voucher covers the cost, I've checked" rolled out with a tone both commanding and reassuring, his voice carrying the weight of authority softened by an undercurrent of gentleness.

BobtheWizard · February 13

Sparrow (Wood Elf Specter, Soulknife Rogue 3) sheet song

AC: 16 | HP: 27/27 | Initiative: +4 | Passive Perception: 15 | Features

Earlier -

Sparrow woke up in his bed this morning hearing people talking down in the street below. Who is talking? It's still dark. Who could be up at this hour? Has someone turned me in to the Inquisition or the Hearthkeepers? Is today going to be the day that I'm forced to leave Altenheim?

He got out of bed and looked in the mirror to make sure he is his corporeal version. It must be early morning by now. He opened his door and went downstairs to the street below. Upon seeing the crowd of strangers gathered, he flinched and fought the urge to flee. Slow down. Act normal. Let's give this a chance. He greeted everyone as he walked out the front door and into the crowd. When they didn't immediately turn on him, he sighed in relief, but knew he wasn't not out of danger yet.

"Good morning. What is everyone doing up this early?"

A woman in a dark cloak pressed an envelope into his hands as she whispered in his ear, "Go back to bed. I'll make sure this mob disperses."

Sparrow went back to bed as instructed. Later, he told Alrik where he was going, and his crew agreed that the letter seemed legitimate and not some trap by the Inquisition.

At the Shop -

A pale, gaunt elf with grey hair and sunken eyes stops outside the store, looking in the window and checking his reflection in the glass. He pauses before he opens the door, making sure he can even grab on to the handle before he tries. He walks in slowly, looking around, unsure if this is a good idea. He makes no effort to gather items to spend the voucher, much more interested in why he received it than in what it might be worth.

When the elf woman addresses him, he approaches her, making sure the others don't overhear his end of the conversation. "Hello, I am Sparrow. I have a voucher and an invitation." He holds up the envelope for the fellow elf to inspect. "Have we met?"

Mechanics

Main Hand: Empty
Off Hand: Empty

Action: Your action goes here.
Bonus Action: Your bonus action goes here.
Move: Your movement goes here.
Manipulate: Your one free object interaction goes here.

Edited February 13 by BobtheWizard (see edit history)

JubalBreakbottle · February 13

Vathan Arbaugh, human surgeon's assistant

AC 16 | Initiative +4 | Speed 30 ft | HP 24/24 | HD 3/3 | Mist 2/2
Darkvision 60 ft | Insight +1 | Investigation +5 | Perception +5
StrSave +0

Athletics +2 10 | Dex 18 | ConSave +2 14 | Int 12 | Wis 12 | Cha 14

"You received a letter, Mr. Arbaugh." Mrs. Carson greets Vathan when he returns home.

"Thank you, Mrs. Carson, if you please," he accepts the letter from her and replies on his way to his room. It had been a long week at the hospital, and he looked forward to supper with Mrs. Carson. He read the letter as he changed clothes. Ah, the Society plans to meet at the Red Masque. How interesting.

At supper, he starts conversation with her, "will you be attending the Masque this year at the Bard's College?"

Late the next morning, he found his way to the Red Masque Atelier beneath his umbrella, ever concerned for... rain. After entering the boutique, he closes his umbrella shaking it to remove what little moisture had accumulated on it. Upon securing the umbrella and adjusting his coat, he turns to face the shopkeeper.

This prematurely gray-haired man appears in his early thirties whose pale skin signals an extraordinary lack of regular sun exposure. With over a decade of practice, his resting face shows compassionate concern. He dresses professionally to be respected by his patients in the hospital, but inconsistent shaving and unkempt hair indicate a lack of care for his appearance. He shoulders a black medical bag and wears a veteran weapons belt with a sheathed rapier and dagger. Perhaps, the weapons are for show to warn off predators.

Rudely greeted by the uncommon elf, Vathan genuinely smiles as he slowly progresses into the shop casually surveyingInvestigation check for any Society clues? its wares and the shop itself. "M'dame, we are in luck then. For I do not require a refund." From his coat pocket, he produces the voucher and holds it out for herInsight check to read her reaction?, "I have a voucher for a mask. Which one would you recommend?"

Edited February 13 by JubalBreakbottle (see edit history)

Harding · February 14

Zefelle Copperspark, True neutral Lightfoot Halfling Druid 3

(Current HP: 27/ 27) (Current condition: OK)

AC: 14 (16 shield equiped)

Passive perception: 16 | Passive insight: 16

Zefelle sat at her small wooden table, the letter from the Society laid out before her. It had arrived unexpectedly, delivered in a manner that suggested secrecy, yet the contents were clear: an invitation to the Red Masque Atelier. She read the note carefully, the words stirring a mixture of curiosity and apprehension within her. The Society's cryptic message spoke of hidden truths and the fragility of life, hinting at a purpose beyond mere revelry.

As she traced her fingers over the voucher, Zefelle couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of her stomach. The invitation to discuss the task intrigued her, but she couldn't help but wonder about the motives of the Society and what role they saw her playing in their affairs. Nevertheless, she knew she couldn't ignore the summons. If there was a chance to uncover more about the supernatural threats that plagued the world, she had to take it.

With determination in her heart, Zefelle rose from her chair and made her way through the bustling streets of Lower Midtown. The advertisements for the annual festival caught her eye, the promise of song and celebration a stark contrast to the darkness that lurked beneath the surface. She pushed aside thoughts of the festivities, focusing instead on the task at hand.

Arriving at the Red Masque Atelier, Zefelle hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. The warm glow of the shop welcomed her, the shelves adorned with masks of every color and design. Her eyes fell upon the elf behind the counter, a rare sight in the city. Zefelle approached cautiously, her small stature making her presence easily overlooked amidst the grandeur of the shop.

With a subtle gesture, Zefelle passed between the legs of another customer - a disheveled grey haired man - and her tiny hand slid her voucher across the counter that was over her head, then leveled her eyes over the obstacles. Her gaze met the elf's with a steely determination as she declared gruffly "I also require your services. Same as the gentleman here.''

Standing in front of the man, but barely reaching his waist, was a halfling with tousled auburn hair with small short braids, the type you'd expect to find in the rural outskirts of the city. Her attire was practical, a reflection of her humble origins—a mishmash of rough-hewn hides armor, hastily assembled with thick twine and leather laces, a red tunic without features and beige breeches with pale-blue vertical stripes. In her other hand, she carried a simple but sturdy staff made of ash wood, with a raven head sculpted at the top part. Across her nose stretched a prominent scar, a testament to past battles or hardships endured. Despite the weariness that shadows her steel-grey eyes, there's was glint of intelligence that hints at a sharp mind beneath the surface.

Her complexion was unusually pale, almost unnaturally so, lending her an otherworldly air. To those that was glancing at at her, a strange sensation washes over them—a fleeting shiver of unease, quickly dismissed as they returned their attention to the task at hand.

Edited February 14 by Harding (see edit history)

MidnightPoet · February 14

Irata

The elf's eyes studied Irata for a moment, obviously on guard. She touched a hand to her cheek and leaned over the counter before replying in High Bürach, "...We've had a problem with a nobleman a few nights ago... It's made things difficult."

She gestured towards the store, empty of customers, as if that would explain everything. "You here to buy?"

Her eyes darted over the voucher ticket, causing her to raise an eyebrow. "Looks like you are. Take your time to pick a mask you like."

Zorjana

A second human woman entered, regal in demeanor, and also brandishing the same voucher. The clerk greets Zorjana with the courteous but careful gaze of a shopkeep appraising a customer.

"Very good, ma'am" The clerk answered gracefully, taking a glance at the voucher. "The voucher will pay for the masque, but not the dress and cloak. It will be an additional 75 gold crowns for the dress... We also offer fitting services, gratis, for our premium customers. Would you be interested in getting a fitting?"

ooc: The dress has gold and jewels worked into the fabric. It is considered a Noble's outfit.

Insight: The Elf is obviously very guarded against you. Perhaps it has to do with her previous experience with a nobleman from before. She is offering you a private room in the back of the shop in return for the ticket.

Thrain

Thrain perused the shop like an artisan and exuded dwarvish artistry as he browsed the shelves. The clerk didn't seem to pay him any attention until he approached the counter and offered the voucher.

"You've done your homework. Do you want to check the fit in the back?" The elf replied, with a smile.

Sparrow

The elf woman flashed a smile to Sparrow's introduction before looking up at the gaunt elf and replying in Low Burach, "Hello Sparrow. I'm Ithilien. And no, but maybe you've seen me in the Ferment?"

Ithilien takes the voucher from Sparrow, but gestures for him to put the invitation away. "Pick a masque of your choice. I believe we have a couple feathered ones in the corner. There's a fitting room in the back for you to use."

ooc: Ithilien is an Elvish name referencing the Moon

Vathan & Zefelle

The clerk becomes visibly tense, her arms crossing in front of her, as the doctor approaches her. The weapons at his side and his affable manner do not do much to ease her worry. As he slowly observes the shop space, he can't help but notice the interior of the shop is much smaller than what you would expect examining from the outside.

When Vathan produces the voucher from his pocket, the clerk's tense shoulders loosen in resignation. Stepping forward to greet the doctor, she shows him a leather mask decorated with bronze rivets and a skull and crossbones.

"Does this will suit your taste? It has a rather gallows humor that is popular in medicine right now."

The elf almost missed seeing the Halfling enter the store, but became visibly nervous as she noticed the halfling's strange presence. Still, she had a job to do and pushed herself to complete the sudden influx of sales. She opened a cabinet and withdrew two cloth and lace masks, one black and a second red, that would cover and obscure the face without obstructing the view.

"...How do you feel about this design?"

Edited February 14 by MidnightPoet (see edit history)

Inquisitor D · February 14

"Uy! Qué care-chimba." the Inquisitor curses, falling back into Castinellan.

Not the most appropriate use of the language of the Most High. But honestly felt. Irata's experiences with Bürach's upper crust had thus far been limited, but one of the city's nobles taking a grudge to such a ruinous extent? That fits all too well. The little motion to the cheek didn't escape her notice either: perhaps an older tell, but the obvious implication was... well, what you'd expect from a dissatisfied, angry noble dealing with an 'inferior'.

Violence.

It's not your business. You're here for a job. Focus on it. Irata tries to turn her attention to the masks, walking down the aisle and looking each one over slowly. A quick, hasty inspection would be a disservice to her host's craft. Still, that little ember of anger is starting to smoulder in her heart. Empyreus' grace, there's no justice in a city like this. She laughs, turning her back to the elven woman and gesturing to the Inquisition sigil on her cloak.

"You're making want to.. investigate this gentleman. And do it as obviously as I can. Let him know how it feels when people start wagging tongues."

What? No! No, no, no! You can't fix all the problems of the world. And you, of all people, don't need more enemies! Quite. It was an idea thrown out without thought. Just a hypothetical. Actually doing that would be terrible. An abuse of power if nothing else. Still... if she only had some actual justification to get involved!

If there is no justice, then make some where we can.

Irata returns to browsing the masks, letting the thought sit in the air briefly. As her path takes her back to the counter, she makes eye contact with the clerk again. This time the smile is slighter, but honest: commiserating with a bad situation. "Any idea what he's been telling folk? It'd have to be pretty bad to have this sort of effect."

Mechanics

Irata's Observant feat gives her a passive Perception of 20 and a passive Investigation of 22. She really is paying attention to the masks, seeing if there's anything special about them. We were told to pick one up after all. Happy to roll any additional skill checks that might be needed for information on Ilthilien's craft.

Edited February 14 by Inquisitor D (see edit history)

BobtheWizard · February 14

Sparrow (Wood Elf Specter, Soulknife Rogue 3) sheet song

AC: 16 | HP: 27/27 | Initiative: +4 | Passive Perception: 15 | Features

"It is very nice to meet you, Ithilien, and that is a beautiful name. I've never been to the Ferment. Perhaps I will check it out some time."

He makes his way over to the feathered masks and picks up a mask of white and gold, with a large plume of golden feathers. It is beautiful, but a little too noticeable for his tastes.

Sparrow's goal is always to blend in as much as possible and not be noticed. He is drawn to a simple white mask, something to hide his face but not stand out too much.

But he decides that given the extravagance of the event, a very simple mask might stand out just as much as a gaudy one. So in the end, he takes a mask with some minimal decoration - a white base covered with an intricate black and gold design on its upper half.

Having settled on this medium mask, he holds it up to the clerk to make sure it is covered by the voucher. If she approves, he walks towards the back. He could try it on right here in the shop, but something in her tone made him think he was supposed to go to the back. He sees the others in the room wandering about and looking at masks and costumes and suspects they might be here for the same reason, but he's not about to initiate a conversation with one of them. What if they aren't part of the summons?

Mechanics

Main Hand: Mask
Off Hand: Empty

Action: Your action goes here.
Bonus Action: Your bonus action goes here.
Move: Your movement goes here.
Manipulate: Your one free object interaction goes here.

Edited February 15 by BobtheWizard (see edit history)

rauhric · February 14

Zorjana Teodozja LN Human Noble, "Haunted" Sorceress | "Hexblade" Warlock [3]

• AC 17 • HP 19 • Init +4 • Passive Perception 13 • Devil's Sight 120' • Phantom Familiar

"I would. Do I need to return for the fitting, or can I have that done now?" Zorjana answers the clerk and thinks to herself that the fitting would provide the perfect time to commune with her father's spirit while he investigates this shop for her. She pays the clerk the gold for her items.

OoC

OoC: Items purchased - dress, and cloak, mask is free

Phantom Familiar

Antonas Dragan Teodozja [Phantom Familiar | medium undead]

• AC 12 • HP 22 • Passive Perception 10 • Darkvision 60' • Fly 50'
• Damage Resistance: acid, cold, fire, lightning, thunder, and bludgeoning, piercing, slashing from non-magic attacks
• Damage Immunity: necrotic, poison
• Condition Immunities: charmed, exhaustion, grappled, paralyzed, petrified, poisoned, prone, restrained, unconscious

• Incorporeal Movement: can move through creatures and objects as if they were difficult terrain; specter takes 1d10 (5) force damage if ends turn inside an object.
• Sunlight Sensitivity: in sunlight specter has disadvantage on attacks and perception checks (sight).

• AVAILABLE @3rd Life Drain Attack (Action): melee spell attack +4, range 5' (1 target), 3d6 necrotic damage DC 10 Con save or target's Max HP reduced by damage taken (last until long rest). Target dies if effect reduces target's HP to Zero.

Edited February 15 by rauhric (see edit history)

JubalBreakbottle · February 14

Vathan Arbaugh, human surgeon's assistant

AC 16 | Initiative +4 | Speed 30 ft | HP 24/24 | HD 3/3 | Mist 2/2
Darkvision 60 ft | Insight +1 | Investigation +5 | Perception +5
StrSave +0

Athletics +2 10 | Dex 18 | ConSave +2 14 | Int 12 | Wis 12 | Cha 14

"Quite the gallows humor. Is my medical profession so obvious?" Vathan replies to the shopkeeper. He steps back to give the halfling more space and addresses her, "oh hello. You have a voucher, too. Interesting. Perhaps, you were also invited to a parliament of peers?" He asks with a smirk.

After a slight pause, the physician turns back to the shopkeeper. "Would you have something perhaps less grotesque?" He then looks down at his new companion, "and you? Do you prefer red, black, or something which would more complement your ginger locks?"

Edited February 14 by JubalBreakbottle (see edit history)

Harding · February 15

Zefelle Copperspark, True neutral Lightfoot Halfling Druid 3

(Current HP: 27/ 27) | AC: 14 (16 shield equiped) | Spell Slots: 4 /2

Prepared spellsCantrip: Chill touch, Poison spray, Shillelagh

Lv1: Entangle, Detect magic, Fairy fire, Speak with animals

Lv2: Blindness/Deafness, Gentle Repose, Summon beast, Spike growth, Moon beam

Passive perception: 16 | Passive insight: 16

Zefelle's expression shifts subtly as she observes the interaction between the doctor and the shopkeeper. While the tension in the air is palpable, she remains focused on the task before her, showing little concern for the underlying atmosphere.

"Less grotesque, you say?" Zefelle's voice carries a gruff tone, tinged with skepticism. She examines the leather mask offered to the doctor with a critical eye, her lips pressed together in contemplation. "Aye, that's more my speed. None of that gallows humor for me."

Turning her attention to the shopkeeper, Zefelle narrows her eyes at the array of masks on display. Both the black and red options fail to captivate her, but she resigns herself to their necessity. "Ugh...Give me the black one," she states bluntly, her tone brusque as she reaches for the mask. "Black color suits everyone just fine."

As she adjusts the mask over her features, Zefelle steals a glance at the doctor, a faint smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "A parliament of peers, you say? Sounds like precisely the kind of company I'd find myself among," she remarks, her voice tinged with sarcasm. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves. First, we'll see what this gathering has to offer."

With a final adjustment to her mask, Zefelle turns her attention to the man beside her, extending her handher hand is abnormally cold, like a corpse about 5 hours after post-mortem. Probably something Vathan would notice instantly because of his expertise as a physician. in a gesture of introduction. "My name is Zefelle Copperspark. And you are, sir?" she inquires, her voice carrying a hint of curiosity as she awaits his response.

Edited February 15 by Harding (see edit history)

BobtheWizard · February 15

Sparrow (Wood Elf Specter, Soulknife Rogue 3) sheet song

AC: 16 | HP: 27/27 | Initiative: +4 | Passive Perception: 15 | Features

As Sparrow walks towards the back, he hears the doctor and the halfling talk about a Parliament of Peers, just like in his invitation. He stops, walks over to them, and introduces himself.

"Hello, I'm Sparrow. I live a few blocks southwest of here."

The others know that a few blocks southwest of the store is a transition neighborhood, bordering Lower Midtown, The Ruins of Old, and The Dregs. It could be classified as poor working class, or just dangerously poor. Sparrow looks at the other patrons in the store, unsure if he should say more while others might be listening. He should have paid more attention to see if the others had more than just a voucher.

He pulls out his envelope to show the halfling and doctor the invitation, trying to make sure no one else can see. "I would be interested in a Parliament of Peers. Should we go in the back to discuss it and try on our masks?"

Mechanics

OOC: Anyone is welcome to have seen his envelope or heard him mention the parliament of peers if you want to join the conversation.

Main Hand: Mask
Off Hand: Empty

Action: Your action goes here.
Bonus Action: Your bonus action goes here.
Move: Your movement goes here.
Manipulate: Your one free object interaction goes here.

Edited February 15 by BobtheWizard (see edit history)

JubalBreakbottle · February 15

Vathan Arbaugh, human surgeon's assistant

AC 16 | Initiative +4 | Speed 30 ft | HP 24/24 | HD 3/3 | Mist 2/2
Darkvision 60 ft | Insight +1 | Investigation +5 | Perception +5
StrSave +0

Athletics +2 10 | Dex 18 | ConSave +2 14 | Int 12 | Wis 12 | Cha 14

The man respectfully grasps the halfling's handHis hand is abnormally cold, like a corpse about 5 hours after post-mortem, just like hers. careful of the size disparity and smirks in the introduction. "It is a genuine pleasure to meet you, Zefelle Copperspark. I am Vathan Arbaugh, surgeon's assisant. Have you heard the saying that cold hands indicate a warm heart, m'lady?"

After they release their grasp, he turns to address pale elf, "good morning, Sparrow. Evidently, there are a few parliamentarians today. Zefelle has selected the black mask, which of course goes with almost any outfit. Have you selected your mask? I'm looking for other options beyond the grotesque, but it may be quite fashionable this year."

Edited February 15 by JubalBreakbottle (see edit history)

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The Society Debut (IC)

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Zweitermon 24, Saturday Morning | The Red Masque Atelier | Lower Midtown, Altenheim

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Zefelle Copperspark, True neutral Lightfoot Halfling Druid 3

(Current HP: 27/ 27) (Current condition: OK)

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Irata

Zorjana

Thrain

Sparrow

Vathan & Zefelle

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