With five responses, we’ve completed the first phase of character generation, and we’re ready to move on to phase two.
We have five PCs
- Andlak – A youth growing wild on the streets of Filgeth
- Nyesh – A kandar growing up in a not-very-prosperous clan of merchants.
- William Brighton – Who doesn’t really know quite how he came to be in Kalyr, but is now enslaved in the arena
- Ziryon – Human apprenticed into the Academy of Knowledge, now a journeyman
- Mirlark – A human youth with a strange affinity to plants
And we have the following NPCs established in the story, which is looking as if it’s going to be set in and around Filgeth.
- Reneth – In the Makers Guild, whether a journeyman or master is yet to be determined.
- Abilyr – now a master of the Academy of Knowledge
- Rutgar – A seasoned gladiator who may or may not be about to buy his freedom.
- Dreyrath – Successful merchant with connections in high places in Calbeyn, who has a daughter
Looking at things we’re at the bottom end of the social hierarchy. Four of the five characters are human (as far as we know), and the one kandar isn’t a scion of the nobility. We have a connection establised between Ziryon and Mirlark
And we have a couple of unanswered questions, which may fuel plot hooks. Exactly who raided the plantation, and why? And what became of Mirlark’s mother?
Phase two picks up where phase one left off. What happened next in the lives of these five? Again, everyone must reference another character, either an NPC or a PC. And you’re only allowed to introduce two NPCs in total across all phases.
Worth pointing out at this stage that these NPCs do not have to be mentors or allies – they can be rivals or even mortal enemies of your character.
“Welcome back to Filgreth Master Dreyrath. I trust your journey was smooth”
“Yes, thank you. And I understand that congratulations are in order. It is Master Abilyr now, no? Since you were pretty much unsupervised in covering my Filgreth operations, I was wondering when they would get around to making you Master. My steward tells me that there seems to be a problem in the flameless lighting in my compound. Is that what brings you here?”
“Thank you. And yes, we got word yesterday. I don’t expect this to be difficult to handle. I’ve brought my new journeyman, Ziryon. A simple job like this is good training.”
“Master Dreyrath, Journeyman Ziryon. From the description, I think I would need to start by looking at the waterwheel. I noticed from outside that it was not moving quite right, if I may.”
“A human, hmm, I’m not sure. But if you vouch for him. But if there is a problem, I want you back here to take care of it Abilyr. Steward, is anyone available to escort a human from the Academy? No? How about that quiet one who came with my daughter’s tutors? Yes, Nyesh come here. Please escort this journeyman. See that he is taken care of while he works.” and quietly “and let the steward know if there seems to be any problem, I don’t like humans running around here.”
Note: my understanding is the Academy of Knowledge has complete rights to the equipment in question, and are under no compulsion to explain themselves. But Abilyr and Ziryon are not inclined to push this fact in everyone’s faces if they don’t have to, which is partly why Dreyrath likes Abilyr being assigned to him by the Academy.
Just realizing that I did not actually answer the question. As a journeyman, Ziryon is now being given assignments outside the academy where he may be without direct supervision. This training includes not only the technical part of the assignments, but the social aspects of dealing with other guilds in providing services while maintaining the authority and standing of the Academy. And for the humans, dealing with Kandar in the other guilds.
That’s more or less it. Officially, the administration division handles the negotiations and paperwork, and the technical division deals with the machinery. But out in the field, those demarcation lines can get blurred.
Mostly becasue it was where the road led to, Mirlark arrived in Filgreth.
Wondering about the city he decided it was not really a very comfortable place, but also found it relatively easy to be just one in a crowd with most people too busy to care who he was or what he was doing there.
He was also slightly shocked at the cost of accomodation. Money was not something which had been of significant interest in his previous life and he had very little coin with him.
Towards the southen edge of the city he discovred the only place which seemed at all welcoming. One of the temples had a well kept garden round it, with a very handy stand of trees. He strolled across the grass, strangely without leaving a blade out of place behind him, threw his pack up into a tree – where it wedged perfectly and blended into the leaves with better camoflage than one would have thought possible, and climbed the biggest one with such ease as if it had a ladder up it.
Making a sound which might have been a hum and might have been song he stroked some branches and suddely there always had been a leaf roofed hammock, just his size. He took a nap.
Later that afternoon he climbed down and wandered across to some fruit bushes. He was reaching out to take one when there was a shout.
“Oi, you! Leave the goddess’s fruit alone! Don’t you know better?”
To be continued
… continued
Mirlark turned to see a Kandar in brown robes running across the turf. He did not look happy.
“Oh, well, no I’m sorry, I didn’t know this fruit was reserved for the Guardian herself, only that this fruit is ripe today, it won’t be as nice tomorrow, and as far as the plant is concerned, the fruit is there to be picked that the seeds it contains may be spread.”
“Well, now I’m telling you. All the produce in the temple gardens are for the use of the temple staff. We are not a rich temple, and if folk like you wander in and pick our fruit we go hungry.”
“Well you don’t seem to be trying very hard not to go hungry. These plants are well cared for, but they are not the best you could grow on this land. These are too close to the river for their comfort. And you certainly don’t want to eat anything from those bushes down the edge there by the road. They have some heavy metal in them: their roots are soaking in something really quite nasty. Now if you grew some of the plants native to the palces they mine the stuff, they would hapilly take up the metal, and though you don’t want to eat them, you can sell the leaves to the alchemists. Not a great cash crop, but you would reduce your loss on the otherwise poisonous fruit.”
While the officious priest started at “jobsworth park keeper”, he was totally taken aback by someone boldly assuming they had more knowledge of plants than he had. At this last claim he now moves to rightous anger. Either this stranger is impuning the garden he tends, or someone else has seriously contaminated it.
“The cash crop doesn’t come into it. Either you have just insulted the Guardian’s temple, or someone else has desecrated it. You are not leaving here until the high priestess has been informed. Come with me!”
More to follow…
Will’s chores at the arena were never nice nor glamorous, yet it served him better than actually being in the arena. Two went in, one came out was the common rule. Though sometimes they held Grand Melees which involved many combatants, and many were dragged out. Usually though Grand Melees were not to the death, which might offer some hope to the combatants, just not much.
The crowds and bettors were blood thirsty. They didn’t bet on first wound, or first blood. They also made the rounds of the pits. They inspected the fighters or gladiators as they were sometimes called.
It was on one fine day where he was helping Rutgar get into his armor when Rutgar said “keep your eyes sharp Will. One of the many who will money on my back are coming to visit. Meet him, watch him, learn about him. The merchants have more power than you might assume. Besides having money would make one’s life better on the outside, wouldn’t it?” Rutgar winked at his helper.
A man dressed in the robes of a high class merchant made his rounds through the pits, investigating the various members of the arena that would stride across the sand this day, in hopes of glory and possibly freedom. When the man arrived in front of the two of them, Rutgar smiled and said “you can’t win much betting on me, but you won’t loose, good sir.” The merchant nodded “a sure thing always works. My name is Dreyrath. Today I will place my bets upon you, and if you serve me well, we can talk about a commission later.”
Rutgar stepped out on to the sand and came back, which left the other on his way to the offal pits. The merchant had made money and possibly Will and Rutgar might have met someone they could work with one day.
Continued—
Training continued for Will. In time his arms could hold up more than just a training sword. Wearing the armor was taxing, but it had saved his life even in just practicing. So far he hadn’t had a real fight, which was good because Will wasn’t sure he was ready. Heck he wasn’t sure he would ever be ready, but Rutgar was a diligent and fair teacher. More often than not Will would win the practice combats and every day in every way he got stronger and more competent.
The day of his first bout came without warning. One of the other fighters had gotten hurt during practice. To make the Grand Melee work, they needed another. Will was drafted.
This time Rutgar helped Will into his armor. It was strapped tight, though he could still move. Will’s eyes were wide with fear even though he was better trained than some. Rutgar said “do not ignore that fear. It will keep you sharp. It is when you become complacent that you will die. Today all you have to do is stick and move. Dodge and strike. It doesn’t have to be pretty, it doesn’t have to be good. It just has to work. You are better off not getting hit than trying to actually parry a blow. Use your small size and speed, stay alive. After the melee I have a surprise for you.” Rutgar pushed him out onto the hot sand.
It was all a blur. Will couldn’t really remember all that happened. He recalled walking out on the sand under the hot sun. He remember the call of the musicians and the sudden silence as both sides looked at each other. Then the clash of the cymbal occured, and it started. From there Will operated strictly on instinct. Moving and sticking, dodging and running.
The next thing he could clearly recall was walking off the sand. Will was sure he had struck many blows and even been hit a few times, but he had lived. That was the key both according to himself and Rutgar.
The large man slapped Will on the back. “See I knew you had it in you. Maybe a little less running next time, but it worked. Tonight we celebrate. The good Dreyrath has provided for a nice meal, a bit of drink, and something very special for us. He made good money on you today. You were an unknown so he got great odds. Next time it won’t work that way, but tonight we have ladies.” Will remembered everything else that happened, and enjoyed it all.
Continued from earlier postings.
The big delay has been my utter failure to invent any names for the two NPCs at the temple. Does anyone else find this difficult?
Mirlark found himself being proppelled into the temple building.
“Your Reverance! Your Revenance,” called his captor rather more urgently than seemed reasonable over a few berries.
A mature Kandar woman wearing a more elegant version of the same style of robes appeaerd from a side aisle. It could be that she has huge reserves of inner peace, or perhaps she is well used to pannic from this particular member of staff.
“What is it now Verger?” She pauses and as she looks at Mirlark her expression changes from hasseled administrator to intrigued scienist. “And what have you found?”
“Oh, Your Reverance, I’ve just caught this Human trying to steal berries and he’s not only insulted the choice of crops but just alleged someone’s poisoned temple lands!”
“An unusual defence, most miscreants simply claim poverty or even startvation.”
She tensed for just a moment and the temple doors shut without anyone seeming to touch them. Then she addressed Mirlark directly.
“Know that you are now in the Domain of the Guardian and you shall not leave without my permission. You are too healthy to claim starvation, ignorant of our ways to the point that you challenge the traditional crops grown round a temple, yet you claim knowledge of poison in our lands. I think you had better start explaining yourself.”
“As to the first, erm, Your Reverance, no I am not starving, but I do claim poverty. I am newly arrived in the city and I had no idea just how much it costs to live here. I have always lived in the country and eaten of the local plants, tending them in exchange that the plans gain more than I take. The plants here are the best tended I have found in the city, and the fruit was ripe so it is quite true that I sought to eat of it. But the plant would not have suffered. The weight of the berries was stressing the stem, which has too much water in it for the best possible yield from the plant.
This is why I mentioned to this gentleman here that you would do better to grow crops which like more water in the soil when you are so close to the river. I had no idea that the crops were chosen by the Guardian and meant no disrespect, I assure you.
As for the poisoning, there is a lot of heavy metal in the soil towards one edge of the grounds. I cannot say that it was put there deliberatly, just that it is there and the plants have taken it up. This is not good for the plants, I would not eat of their fruit and suggest you do not either. There are plants which thrive in this sort of soil, and again in my ignorance of the Guardian’s choice of crops, I simply suggested that growing them would be a better idea.
I’ve run out of time again…
Continued, and please forgive the poor punctuation in my previous posting.
I do know when quotation marks should be used. I was in a hurry.
“You see, Your Reverance,” interupted the verger, “it is just as I told you.”
“Yes, thank you Verger,” acknowleged the priestess, “and you were quite right to bring the situation to my attention. The situaion having arrisen, we are now going to adjourn for prayer. Stranger, I suggest you pause to reflect on the work of the Guardian and how she tends for us all. I hope you will find an affinity for her, but either way you do not have my permission to leave the builiding, so please don’t try. Verger, you should spend some time meditating on the fact that we are here for the plants, not the plants for us. I will consult the Guardian more personally.”
More things to do….
Over the years spent in Dreyrath’s household, Nyesh had become increasingly conscious of the power of money: its gravitational force, drawing in goods and people (not always separate categories when it came to the humans), its ability to warp and reshape the world according to the desires of those who commanded sufficient quantities of it, and its mesmerising influence on the minds of almost everyone. His childhood had, he could see in retrospect, been defined by a basic sufficiency: the household had been prosperous enough that the regular shortfalls – when the market fell or a caravan went missing – led to temporary inconveniences and shifts in the proportions of more and less expensive foodstuffs at mealtimes, rather than hunger or deprivation. An upturn in family fortunes, meanwhile, was marked by a family banquet and prudent investment in hard-wearing clothes and household items, rather than by anything more extravagent or impressive.
Dreyrath’s household was another world entirely: in the scale and luxuriousness of its various residences, in the quality of the food and the dress – even hangers-on like Nyesh himself shared in both, albeit second-hand when it came to clothing – and above all in the power to command others and to make the world do his bidding. Dreyrath’s business dealings were of a scale that allowed him to buy entire urban districts or have temples constructed in honour of his own achievements (formally, of course, in honour of the gods who had made those achievements possible); he wielded power without any of the inconvenience of having to exercise it on a day-to-day basis. His dealings were also, Nyesh had noted, sometimes of a scale that would mean near catastophe if something went wrong – except that somehow this never happened, even when the deals did go wrong, as someone would always be found to advance money to cover the losses until Dreyrath’s next business deal made everything right again. It was as if the idea of Dreyrath’s wealth compelled people to maintain it as a reality; his overwhelming confidence in his own power and status ensured that everyone and everything conformed to his conception of the world.
Nyesh was a case in point, subsisting in the world entirely, it seemed, at the whim of the great merchant, who registered his presence, let alone his name, only intermittently. At times, Dreyrath appeared as uncertain about Nyesh’s status or function in the household as Nyesh was himself; he had moved imperceptibly from being Fyala’s fellow-student and companion to being loosely associated with the teachers themselves. He had received an excellent education in both the disciplines of accounting and record-keeping and the wider worlds of history, culture and literature, without having ever passed the thresholds of the guilds who usually kept a tight hold on all such knowledge; he had encountered many different sorts of thinking, and was free to compare and combine them as he wished – but such knowledge was, strictly speaking, useless, since it could never be passed on to others in that form, rather than according to the rigorous disciplinary separation of the guilds – even if he had the formal qualifications and status to become a teacher or scholar.
The only position in the world for which he was actually qualified was therefore the one in which he found himself: a hanger-on, an involuntary parasite, at the mercy of those in the household who might, if they chose, raise with their master the question of what exactly Nyesh was doing there (thankfully, everyone seemed to find him either pleasant or harmless enough). Now that Fyala had completed almost all her education, for most of the time he was left to his own devices – generally he then busied himself with the household archives, through a mixture of curiosity and the feeling that archives, by their nature, need to be looked after and tidied up – but he was constantly on call for the sorts of little tasks that required someone with no clearly defined role or status. Such as accompanying a human from the Academy of Knowledge to examine the waterwheel.
Nyesh had no particular objection to humans, or at any rate the cultivated ones, and this Ziryon seemed quietly capable. Besides, he was looking forward to gaining further insight into the operations of the water wheel – after all, it would do his place in the household no harm at all if he could achieve sufficient understanding to avoid Dreyrath having to call out the Academy of Knowledge every time a cog worked itself loose, technological monopolies be damned…
As they crossed the greater courtyard, he felt a familiar pain as the slender figure of Fyala appeared from the side gallery and looked straight through him, as she always did unless she wanted a favour – and then a new pain, as he realised that she was looking instead at the human…
Fyala, Dreyrath’s daughter, being my second NPC.
Golly what a lot of typos I’ve been posting. There will probabaly be some more in this!
It would be difficult to say exactly how long the priestess spent “consulting the Guardian”, but Mirlark did find the atmosphere comfortable, at least to the degree that any enclosed area could be.
When she emerged from a side chamber, though, she looked grim, but with only just visible effort composed herself to something closer to her original serene attitude.
She first addressed Mirlark.
“I am directed to offer our hospitality for as long as you wish to stay with us. I hope you will stay for some time and that you will find time to converse with me, members of my staff and perhaps will join our congregation more formally, but that is not required of you. We request your aid in the investigation of the heavy metal poisoning in our grounds.”
“Verger! We will be accpting the advice from this visitor, who is to be our guest, as to the plants arround our temple. You will investiagte the heavy metal poisoning. I want to know how it got there, and to know it is not going to come back or spread eleswhere once the plants reccomended have dealt with it. I am assured the plants will do so with more effectiveness than usual.”
“Now if you will both excuse me, I have an encyclical to write.”
So there you are. Mirlark is welcome at the temple, though his hostess has not been told why. The NPC is the Verger, who needs a name. A plot hook is also avialable: where did that contamination come from?
Phase Two:
Andlak prospered while working for the Makers Guild. He started off at almost the bottom, as a strongarm man a little more respectable than the street thugs. He cleaned up well and could fit in to neighbourhoods that were more upscale than the ones he had come from. After less than a year, he was more often set to thief catching — he knew the tricks and knew what to look for. He found himself tending to focus on more social methods, finding out who might want to take what, who would buy stolen goods and of what kind and from who. He let it be known that people who would keep an eye out for things Andlak might want to know would find it worth their while, and over a few years he built up a fairly small but effective local network of informants.
One of them was a slave gladiator, a champion named Rutgar who’d been kept in the rings long after he could have earned his freedom. Andlak struck up a relationship with him — in exchange for pulling a few strings and getting the Makers Guild to “influence†the roster on occasion, not to mention some strictly creature comforts, Rutgar would keep an eye and an ear out for interesting facts and information relating to the Guild’s interests.
Andlak was moving up in the world…he’d long since finished working off Reneth’s losses and now they were close to partners. In fact, if Andlak was correctly interpreting the occasional glance, Reneth may be concerned that Andlak will end up more than a partner…