It usually starts with a dinner party

[Masleh]

Extra Extra! Sixty are shaken to their skivvies as sky falls in Sharn! Is your home safe, find out today in the Korranberg Chronicle!

-It’s not hard to think that the citizens of Breland have seen it all, and by today it’s a sight easier for the occupants of Sharn to say just that.

On the morning of Lharvion’s eighth day a massive “rip in the air above the towers” was revealed to the populace of Breland’s spire decked city. In what our analysts are calling among the top ten magical events in the last century (a mighty boast indeed) a strange formation of Siberys shards appeared seemingly out of pockets in the sky and began raining on Sharn; much like the phenomena thought previously to only be encountered in Xen;Drik. If this were not enough, other strange artifacts or even unimportant junk accompanied this strange precipitation. Interesting fallen relics include

• Siberys Dragonshards in the hundreds at least. Cut-throats, nobles, merchants and ordinary people alike turned out from their tower homes and onto porches and balconies alike to grab the free treasures literally falling into their hands. The entire wealth of the fallen shards is counted to be in the millions.
• Three ornate couches, one of a granite material, have landed amongst the towers. One has been collected and refitted to rest at Morgrave University, while another two have been put into the private collection of one Auster D’Cannith.
• Heaped collections of magical clocks, sundials, and strange clockwork devices bearing marks seen previously only to be written on the bodies of the Dragonmarked houses.
• Objects of such strange form or function that their purpose and material have failed to be divined. Sages and diviners alike are still hard at work to decipher their use and origin.

Lastly the phenomenon has deposited one cultured human male. Authorities are unsure exactly how to respond to the strange visitor, current opinion split between holding him in the noble’s quarter or exile from the city for what many have ventured to call the horrendous “bad luck” surrounding his appearance. Currently he’s sequestered to the home of Gariana Orvien who plans to show off both the visitor and the relics that have accompanied his arrival in one of her famous monthly gala's. Researchers, sages, and planar analysts have also been invited to meet and greet with the charming visitor.

While many wild theories have been suggested, many sages now agree that an accident of teleportation is source of the disruption. Next, our lead economic analyst straight from Kundark band will outline his thoughts on what the influx of new shards will do to the market, and what it means to your investments.

*See Sky goes down in Sharn, page A6; or Influx page B1*

 

[JimAde]

Caspar Hauser Intro

Caspar Hauser kneeled on the smooth floor, his forehead resting against the cool tiles and his hands bound behind him. Blood and sweat ran down his face and he felt the inside of his mouth gingerly with his tongue, tasting the place where his front teeth used to be. He slowly straightened his back and brought his weight down on his feet. He squinted up into the icy blue eyes of his erstwhile liege lord, Etienne Valmont Baron Ravenswood. Caspar said nothing. It had all been said already. Valmont had accused him of treason, and Caspar couldn't really deny it. He had willfully disobeyed his lord and sought a means to kill the baron. The fact that he had done this on learning that Valmont's meteoric rise to power was fueled by murder, betrayal and pacts with dark forces was not relevant.

Valmont made a fluid gesture to someone behind Caspar and powerful hands gripped his shoulders. He was dragged to his feet and pushed onto a plush white divan, which slid back a bit as Caspar's weight struck it. He left a bloody, smeared imprint of his face on the luxurious white fabric. Valmont sipped his wine and regarded Caspar coolly. "You are not without talent, Caspar," he said evenly, as if they were simply taking tea together. "But as usual you are far more impressed with yourself than you ought to be." He set his wine down on the white desk and flicked an imaginary bit of lint from his white silk shirt. Caspar had trouble reconciling Valmont's punctilious habits with the half-decayed, undead horror that had just pushed him onto the couch. He adjusted his position to get a little less uncomfortable and said blurrily, "I would have had you if it hadn't been for Miriel."

Valmont smirked and said, "Believe what you want. It no longer matters. Though you have betrayed me, Caspar, at least you will still be able to serve our mutual lord." Caspar spit a mouthful of blood on the polished floor, taking a bit of satisfaction is Valmont's pained reaction. "He may be your lord," Caspar said, "but not mine." Valmont smiled again and said, "He will be lord of all before long. Time for the first step. He opened a drawer of the desk and withdrew a slim book bound in white leather. While he searched it for something he said to the zombie, "put the divan in the middle of the room. I'll never get those blood stains out of it anyway." The zombie shuffled forward to comply and effortlessly dragged the couch and Caspar into the center of the large, white-tiled room.

Valmont reached into the desk again and withdrew a gleaming dagger. "Ah, here it is," he said brightly. He came around the desk and Caspar tried to rise, but the zombie was behind him again and pushed him down to the seat. The thing's stinking hands were like iron on his shoulders. Pain and exhaustion finally got the better of Caspar and he looked at the dagger without much in the way of fear, as if he were dreaming. Valmont began intoning words Caspar could not understand and the air took on a greasy, unstable feeling. Caspar's hair stirred where it wasn't matted down with blood and under the stench of the zombie he thought he smelled something like rancid butter. Valmont now stood before him, reading from the book and raising the dagger slowly, obviously trying to time something correctly.

Suddenly the door to Valmont's study burst open and Caspar's dreaming fugue was broken. He looked toward the door and saw a tall, gaunt man in a great black cloak standing in the doorway. In one hand he bore a cutlass and the other was smoking, as were the remains of the door which lay scattered about. He looked at Valmont and said nothing, but his eyes glowed darkly. Valmont's voice faltered and he said in a very small voice, "Remarkably bad timing."

The newcomer held his arms forward and a great wind suddenly sprang up. The zombie burst into flame and vanished in an instant, while Valmont was thrown back over his desk, but the greasy feeling in the air persisted. It seemed to be striving against the wind and Caspar felt an odd pressure building in his skull. He tried again to rise but suddenly there was no floor to stand on. He and the divan and the book were all falling, but with a strange slowness, through a long shaft. No, not a shaft, he was outdoors, surrounded by impossibly tall buildings and drifting toward the ground far below.

OOC: I'm assuming that Caspar has since had healing to fix him up and repair his teeth.

 

[IcyCool]

The crystal rain. I knew it would come. But the appearance of that human is surprising. I'm glad I decided to accept Gariana's invitation. It'll give me an opportunity to study him. It's not often that I'm surprised.

Oskar rolled up the news-parchment in his lap and sat back comfortably in his compartment aboard the lightning rail. The terrain outside his window swept rapidly past, blurring into a rythmic pattern. Eventually his eyes closed as weariness overcame him. He slept fitfully, his dreams always seemed to be troubled by some dark portent or another.

"NEXT STOP, SHARN! 5 MINUTES!"

The announcement woke him from his dark sleep, the vision having been chased away by the light. He couldn't remember just what it was he was dreaming about, but he had no doubt that if it was important, he'd be seeing it again.

When the rail came to its stop, Oskar gathered his things and made his way to the street outside, scanning the people to find the carriage and driver he'd hired. Spotting him, Oskar made his way over and climbed in. Without a word, the driver took him to the rooms that were waiting for him. He'd get himself cleaned up and presentable, and then head to the party that evening.

 

[Dracomeander]

As Korantash left the message drop, his eyes automatically scanned the area looking for hidden watchers even while his thoughts drifted to the contents of the invitation in his pouch.

Another gala at Gariana's. I have to admit this one sounds interesting enough to draw plenty of folk worth observing. Imagine having a guest of honor that fell from a hole in the sky. That alone is enough to draw attention from all quarters, even those whose attention is unwanted.
Guess I'll need a new outfit for the gala. Gariana's been a good friend and contact. I'd hate to embarass her by showing up in the same outfit for an event of this great novelty.

Turning towards a better quarter of the city, Korantash heads to a tailor he knows to get outfitted for the coming gala, his senses as always alert for anything that seems out of place.

 

[JonnyFive]

As Ax ran the forest trails that would lead to sharn, he thought of the letter he had recieved. An invitaion by an unknow hand to a gala in sharn. Normaly Ax would have disregarded such things but the letter had promised information to his past. As his search for any clue to his past had yeilded no results, Ax had little hope that this trail would be any different, but he felt compeled to continue on with his search.

 

[Steve Gorak]

Tired after a day of information gatering, Kalandar headed back to Lady Kaarina's chapel. The cleric of the Silver flame 's small chapel was where he slept at night, offering them his proection, and them, shelter.

He had grown fond of Kaarina, but his sence of duty to his cause forced him to shake off potential distractions such as love. The lady knew this, intuitively, and shared his resolve to acheive their goal.

"Ka, you received a letter from you know who". The letter was a simple invitation to tomorrow's gala. "Archheirophant Ythana Morr will be attending."
"Good" Kalandar, said with resolve. "Thank you Lady Kaarina"He said, looking at her in the eyes just a second too long. "I will need to clean my clothes to be presentable, can I use some of your soap?"

As he cleaned his simple monk's attire, he playfully splashed Kiran, questioning him about his day and making sure the street kid was not getting into trouble.

Kalandar will spend the hours before the gala scouting the sorroundings of where it will be held, chating with folks to get as much information on Gariana Orvien and potential ties to Archheirophant Ythana Morr.

OCC - Masleh's and non player's eyes only:
[sblock]
Hey Masleh! i assumed quite a few things here, and I hope it's ok.

First, Kalandar's follower, Lady Kaarina, has a small chapel with appropriate housing for all his followers.
Second, she's a direct link to Jaela Daran, Keeper of the Flame, although Kalandar can communicate directly with him mentally with his psy powers.

Let me know if you have a problem with any of this.
[/sblock]

 

[Masleh]

OOC:Shaggy, your intro's 1st under this spoiler. I should be able to get to everyone else before work tommorow morning.

[sblock]The opulent Storms Eye chamber is every bit as over done as Gavin had heard. Sweeping arches and lightning touched cloud mosaics covered the ceiling, while fluted columns supported the tower above it. A rich blue carpet covered all eighty yards of the glorified office, while numerous divans and laquered tables sat across from each other. The grandoise of the chamber only made its two occupants that much smaller in regard. One, a slim short half-elf assistant, is dressed in courier outfit and possessing a rather large book in one hand, barely looks up as you approach the desk and seat next to the other figure, who is recognizable instantly. Areutu D'Orien, little brother to Kwanti D'Orien the House Scion. Areutu is an unhealthy 24 year old whips of a man, over-dressed to the point of foppery, and has the kind of paleness associated with a life that saw neither work nor sun in ages. Apparently the rumors of his eccentricy and idleness in handling Sharn house matters was far from over-rated.

"Well if it isn't Gavin, my my Beytons little runt certainly has grown into quite the character, hasn't he Hascale?"

*The assistant, barely covering the pained expression not quite differint from a parent annoyed with an obnoxious childs behavior, merely nods.* The Scion's voice is jovial with just a hint of authority, the kind of tone that masks a grating irritation and disdain for present company.

"Come come Gavin, we're all family here, take a seat; I've got a proposition you just might be intrested in. No, I'm afraid you won't be spending much of it in field with only the comany of your bosom buddies and the red eyes of your enemey, but I can offer comforts that you're not likely to see given your ...egh, leanings." *Areutu stretches abit in his chair and begins picking at imaginary splinters in his desk.* "We've had ...hmm, how shall I put it? an object of rather tender value given this past weeks events, taken from out of our hands, our Deneith gaurds even murdered. Thank the Soverign Host however, our inquisitor has managed to trace the origion of the theft back to one of the infamous Sixty families of Sharn. Through methods I'm not going to bore you with, we learned that our wayward item is being housed in an abandoned portion of the Ice Grace tower, the same tower as anyone one in the know will tell you is the location for Gariana Orvien's infamous gala's. Now as much as we'd like too, we can't simply barge in and ruin her shin-dig simply to procure our relic, but we can send in an agent to retrieve it, in-conspicuously. We believe the exchange is going to take place during or right after the nights event, so you'll have to work quickly.
Obviously, you'll be well compensated for putting your life, and more importantly house honor, on the line. Simply name a reasonable price here and now, and I can garuntee it should you be successful. The gala is this evening by the way, so do see you get yourself something decent to wear..not too decent of course *Areutu puts on a mock grin and winks at you, apparenlty fellow conspirator in a joke only the Scion knows* "this is one of Gariana's events. So cousin, do we have a deal?"[/sblock]

 

[Masleh]

Tired after a day of information gatering, Kalandar headed back to Lady Kaarina's chapel. The cleric of the Silver flame 's small chapel was where he slept at night, offering them his proection, and them, shelter.

He had grown fond of Kaarina, but his sence of duty to his cause forced him to shake off potential distractions such as love. The lady knew this, intuitively, and shared his resolve to acheive their goal.

"Ka, you received a letter from you know who". The letter was a simple invitation to tomorrow's gala. "Archheirophant Ythana Morr will be attending."
"Good" Kalandar, said with resolve. "Thank you Lady Kaarina"He said, looking at her in the eyes just a second too long. "I will need to clean my clothes to be presentable, can I use some of your soap?"

As he cleaned his simple monk's attire, he playfully splashed Kiran, questioning him about his day and making sure the street kid was not getting into trouble.

Kalandar will spend the hours before the gala scouting the sorroundings of where it will be held, chating with folks to get as much information on Gariana Orvien and potential ties to Archheirophant Ythana Morr.

OCC - Masleh's and non player's eyes only:
[sblock]
Hey Masleh! i assumed quite a few things here, and I hope it's ok.

First, Kalandar's follower, Lady Kaarina, has a small chapel with appropriate housing for all his followers.
Second, she's a direct link to Jaela Daran, Keeper of the Flame, although Kalandar can communicate directly with him mentally with his psy powers.

Let me know if you have a problem with any of this.
[/sblock]

Gariana's parties are the kind of events whispered about only in shady anthechambers, halls adrift with amorous shadows, or the soft whispering cloth that marked a slave trade of the baser sort. Gariana is rumored to maintain links and holdings across Sharns seedier areas, including Sharns Welcome (a docks area), Firelight, and Dragoneyes. Of even racier reputation, her galas in the Ice Grace tower have inspired conspiracy theorists and hack writers of filth for years. The events are held from 10 Pm till 4 Am, with everyone in attendance geased into silence about any of the evetns taking placee by the towers own built in magical properties. Despite this fact, deals made in secret and plans that will be slowly put to fruitition are regularly made and broken within the evenings confines.

Or at least, that's been the truth up till the last war. On the same day (some even speculate as far as the very moment the quill touched the treaty) that the Treaty of Thronehold was signed Gariana trew open the gates to her lavish apartment, and called down the towers and bridges of Sharn looking for a cleric. A thin wisp of herself in a barely held togetehr glammerweave dress, the elven noble fell weeping at the base of Daca's Watch. Much to the amazement of all there, the gnome saint climed down from her podium, and taking Gariana's hand, led her back to her tower where the doors were sealed to any visitors for a week. Rumours go that Daca left the tower at the end of the week, and refuses to speek of what went on in the graceful but menacing towers.

Gariana's servants, mute and eunuch all of them, have been the only thing to come forth from the tower after that date until the night the sky opened above Sharn. Throwing open her doors, and looking much too healthy for a woman who spent two years away from the sun, explained cheerfully amonst the rain of ruin that she would be throwing a suprise end of the world gala event. Leisure wear or formal dress is the guests choice, those coming in from out of country encouraged to bring a dish from their native land...unlikely since it was that she'd be eating anything again within the next year. Daca on the other hand (whose name is beyond reproach and good intentions are without a doubt untainted) merely sits upon her podium and offers advice to passerbys.

Steve:
[sblock] Everything looks sound, though you may change what you wrote in the earlier post if this new info on Gariana changes anything for you. Secondly, there is a second temple to the Silver Flame in High Hope, Sharns smaller religious district. The Flamebearer Mazin Tana may be a useful ally to you, though his demense offers far less political clout then Yrthanna's. Lastly, the Keeper of the Flame Jaela is female.[/sblock]

 

[Masleh]

*The gentle tinkle of a magical bell sounds throughout the Grace of Ice tower, awakening servants and one very unique guest alike. Gariana, an attractive and aristocratic looking half-elf easing gracefully into her middle ages, sweeps bows and flourishes into your sleeping room and shuts the door behind her. She is clothed in a slightyl more revealing then is socially acceptable, white glammerweave dress that complements her raven hair worn in curls to her shoulders. Her grin, not completely like a hyena winking and plotting with a fellow pack-mate, is large and genuine as she claps; urging you into full wakefullness.*

"Come come Caspar, we can't have you sleeping the entirety of the week now can we? Now now, I know you're tired, but intra dimensional travel musn't be as taxing as you're making it out to be. Besides's, you have things to do this morning, as my Gala in your honor, well yours and the Apocalypses of course, is going of tonight, you musn't be it the tangles of fatiuge whence we begin."

*As she reaches the bed, Gariana carefully places a cup of steaming cofee on the nightstand next to the bed. The rich aroma thick, maybe even some sort of tribal brew. The smell is reminscent of thick snaking vines, a hot tropical sun, and perfume.*

You've been poked, prodded, magicly tested for portal or breech residues, and been brought before dozens of gifted investigators trying extra hard to catch you in a lie, you've just been woken from the first real sleep you've had since landing in this burg, and now this crazy elf expects you to go up an at'em for her show-off her guest/prisoner party.

"Now I have clothes that could fit you, buuuut, given that this is going to be an actual party rather then a...well, rather then one of my usual events, the leathers lace and irons won't exactly fit fellow revelers. Thusly, Larynx here" *Gariana gestures at the well groomed shifter butler that appears from the dark halls outside your chamber. The butler/enforcer/bodygaurd is well built and professional looking, you've seen him take down multiple opponets twice his size during an assassination attempt, you know the shifter is no-one to go messing around with. * "will escort you to one of my favorite tailors to make sure you're properly attired for tonights events. I trust all this is kosher?"

*Gariana's crisp direct tone makes it perfectly clear that regardless of Caspar's thought on the matter, he would be attending the Gala, and first he would be going to the tailors.*

[sblock]OOC:how much would you like to play out Caspars initial entrance and grilling into Sharn? I've skipped ahead a week past your appearence since it seems that's when the rest of the cast will be showing up, but we can work out what happened between your entrance and this morning in spoiler tags, or just assume all the neccessaries went on to bring us to this pint and get on with the game. Your choice Jim[/sblock]

 

[JimAde]

Caspar bolts upright in bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes and trying unsuccessfully to smooth his hair into place as Gariana strides about the room describing his day.

As she explains that he'll be going to the tailor, he takes an appreciative sip of the coffee and sighs. He smiles with his eyes closed, enjoying the sensation of the hot coffee swirling around his newly-restored teeth. Suddenly his expression shifts as he has apparently come to some internal decision.

He throws off the blankets and stands, his long nightshirt falling into place, and executes a courtly bow. "Madame," he says, "I thank you for your hospitality, and I assure you your generosity will be repaid. However, it seems I am still at somewhat loose ends, so I will gratefully accept your kind offer of your tailor's services." He sips again and adds, "This is excellent, much bolder than the brew we have back home."

When the horse bolts, it's best to act as if you wanted to go that way, he thinks.

He sets down his cup and says, "I shall get started immediately." "Come along, Larynx," he adds imperiously. "I make it a policy never to disappoint a lady with my appearance." He strides from the room to get ready to go out.

[sblock]Masleh: We don't have to do details of the previous week. Your paragraph sums it up nicely, I think. I don't want to make this game the Caspar Hauser show. [/sblock]