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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Ipissimus" data-source="post: 3610329" data-attributes="member: 41514">Disclaimer: The following adventure is currently being played at my table. It is based in and around the Scuttlecove of Dungeon Magazine fame though altered to a great extent to accomodate an entirely new plot arc. The PCs are all of evil alignment and, as such, this game is quite a bit more mature (if it were a movie, I'd give it an R 18+ rating). The Anti-heroes that are the focus of the campaign have already demonstrated a flair for murder, betrayal, human sacrifice and other evil acts that some of you may find distasteful. If such is not your cup of tea, please stop reading now. If it is, enjoy.###A black strom had settled over the smuggler's port more than a week ago and didn't show signs of letting up in the near future. The rain hissed in protest upon contact with the street as if nature itself rejected and recoiled from the cancerous blight that was Scuttlecove, home of pirates and torturers, den of drug lords and merchants of death as well as practitioners of horrifying magic and dark faith.The relentless cloud, pounding rain and lightning that cracked the sky may have lent the town an appropriate ambiance but it did nothing to ease rowdy tempers or cool hot heads. Pirates, combining the worst aspects of hired thugs and sailors, could ill afford to escape the dock and seek their fortunes on the high seas and risk losing everything on the reefs that protected Scuttlecove from the authorities.For Sheenestra Alovil, however, the storm meant good business. Standing cloaked under the eves of a nameless tavern, she allowed passersby a glimpse of her features while flashing each a 'come hither' look. Unlicenced prostitution was illegal, by the decree of the Mistress of Porphyry House, and yet few were the men of Scuttlecove who had the coin for more professional services. As such, the Mistress would often overlook those willing to risk more secretive services as long as the girls didn't advertize."Hey, kid," one of the burly ruffians finally bucked up the nerve to approach her, "you lost?""Not now," she purred, running her slender fingers up his filthy tunic, "come on, I need a big, strong, man like you to escort me..."She led him into the convenient alleyway next to the tavern. No windows on either side, overlapping eves that kept the rain away and two sharp ninety degree turns in the center that, once past, would give the two of them complete privacy out of the view of both streets. He didn't waste any time once they were out of sight, shoving her up against the wall and grinding his lips against hers, hands probing under her cloak.He was so busy that he didn't notice when her right hand emerged from her cloak holding a long, slender, poinard between her delicate fingers. A deft insertion of the impliment just under the ear, where the jaw meets the skull, allowed the blade easy access to the thug's brain stem. He died long before he hit the ground, fingers clutching painfully at her soft skin as he slid down her body.She paused for a moment to kiss the gold heart locket around her neck before setting about searching the corpse of valuables. He didn't have much: A few coppers and a dagger were all he carried, but it'd be enough to feed her for a day or two. Business transaction completed, she pulled the body over to the partially dissolved grate that led to the town's sewers and dumped the corpse in. There were things down there that knew her and her work, things that waited for the remains of her victims and kindly disposed of the evidence of the crime. Sometimes she saw their eyes glowing red in the darkness or caught a whisper of eagerness at the prospective feast.She didn't hear the intruder until he unsheathed his sword mere feet behind her back. "Stand slowly," he ordered, "and hold your hands out to your sides where I can see them."Sheenestra did as she was bade to the letter. "What was this drunk to you? Companion? Brother? Or are you from Porphyry House?""This business is none of my affair," he sniffed, "however, your business, Sheenestra, is of my concern. Your future business, specifically.""How do you know me?" She asked, trying to keep the surprise out of her voice."Madame Rythe of the Skindancers spoke highly of your abilities. I and those I represent seek to make you an offer of employment that I'm sure would be mutually beneficial to both parties."Risking a glance over her shoulder, she took in what details she could glean from a moment's glance. His sword was black with some alchemical coating that seemed to absorb light. His garb was functional, dark brown, grey and black in both rough cloth and leather. His face was concealed by a deep hood, however. He took a short step out of her line of sight so she kept her head turned and graced him with a raised eyebrow in order to signal her disbelief. "Do you conduct all your business negotiations at the point of a longsword?""Every chance I get," he admitted, his grin obvious in his tone of voice. "You know the ways of the street as well as the ways of men and women. We need your skills. The pay is generous. More than you could earn in a lifetime of rolling lustful pirates... and I daresay more conducive to a long life.""They pay my landlord and put food in my stomach," she shrugged, "what else does a lady need?""Lady?" He chuckled. "You're all of what, girl, fifteen?""SIXteen," she growled."My apologies," he said without meaning it, "KID. We both know you want more than just food in your stomach and a roof over your head. Everyone in this town wants more than that, what in the nine hells else is there to life?"There was a long pause as both sides considered the situation. Sheenestra gnawed at the inside of her lip in indicision. If the man were playing straight with her, why act so mysteriously? If he saught her life, why not end it now while he had the upper hand? She took a deep breath to ease the tension before speaking again. "You know, for a man attempting to ask a lady for her favour, you are being awfully rude. It is customary to introduce yourself first... preferably without waving a sword about but let's stick to what diplomacy you are capable of, shall we?""Your tongue is as sharp as I was led to believe. My name's Jacith. Jacith Ravamaine.""Pleased to meet you. May I turn around?""Sure, but stay in that spot."Nodding, she turned gracefully on the spot, careful not to make any sudden moves. His face was barely visible in the shadows of the alleyway and the face was overgrown with stubble but it was a handsome face nonetheless. "Jacith. If you must, call me Shae. Do you intend to escort me across town at swordpoint? That might give some people the wrong idea.""I don't have time to mess around. Are you interested in work or not?""What kind of work?""I'm a mercenary," jacith shrugged, "my employers pay me to get rid of inconveniences. I've signed up a croaker and a necromancer so far. What we really lack is subtlety and diplomacy, not every problem can be solved with a blade... and as you can see, that's what I'm best at. I can offer you one hundred gold pieces, that's in advance. Another hundred when the job's done and an equal share of the loot. In or out?"One hundred gold pieces. More money in advance than she'd ever possessed in her entire lifetime. She didn't need long to consider the proposeal, greed won out over common sense. "I'm in."</blockquote>

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