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NOW LIVE! Into the Woods--new character species, eerie monsters, and haunting villains to populate the woodlands of your D&D games.
Connor's Records of Seacliff- Updated 1/27
- Thread starter ConnorSB
- Start date
ConnorSB
First Post
New directions...
Change of Plans! I actually got a campaign going, with, like, real players, so I'm going to cut Kel's story short for now, and start in on thiers. We just finished the second session, and the group seems to be coming together rather well. I'll post the PCs right now.
Alex- An elven rogue. He was born with his twin sister Alexandria in the elven capital of Madrid. They were orphanned at a young age and grew up to a life of crime. He was pressed into the elven navy for a few years as punishment when he got caught stealing from a merchant, and it was there that he fell in love with the sea and his life of piracy began. He returned to the city and his sister, where they plot their largest heist yet.
Alexandria- Alex' twin sister, she was left behind when Alex was pressed into the navy. She is now one of the primier thieves in the city of Madrid, with a small residence in the Forigner's Quarter, the only place that is truly safe from Espania's (The elven nation, based on real world Spain) priest-warriors and thier zeloutous devotion to the Queen of the Winds.
Gorbois- Once a young orc noble, he was forcefully exiled when the orcish king seized his familys lands, as his father had angered the young king. Now he lives in Seacliff, and is a recent member of the Staged Men, a group of dashing ruffians that are actors by day, and thieves by night. Their leader, playwrite, and all around awsome guy is the mysterious Eremis, a human with his hands in a lot of back pockets. Recently, he picked the pocket of a foppish young elven noble with a bright red hat, and found coins of a strange make, a flame on either side of them.
Dakxa- This aspiring young kobold is a cleric of the Beetle-God Mevendrezek. He is honest, trustworthy, and a bit naive. Currently he is under the tutalige of Bishop Moxolus, and is the bishops errand boy, apprentice, secretary, and all around lackey.
Sura- This stout dwarven lady is not to be trifled with. Having grown up in Madrid, the daughter of two dwarven merchants who had strayed far from the Motherland, she had a cosmopolitan youth, steeped in both the rich cultural heritage of the dwarves (Revolution!), and the hard faith of the elves. Now she is setting out on her own, and Seacliff appears to be the best place for an aspiring young fighter to go. And so she has booked passage on The Western Shore, a fast little caravel headed for Seacliff. It leaves in the morning, and so she sleeps on the ship that night.
Somehow, these five lives will spiral together, and only time knows what part they will play in this bold and expanding world.
Change of Plans! I actually got a campaign going, with, like, real players, so I'm going to cut Kel's story short for now, and start in on thiers. We just finished the second session, and the group seems to be coming together rather well. I'll post the PCs right now.
Alex- An elven rogue. He was born with his twin sister Alexandria in the elven capital of Madrid. They were orphanned at a young age and grew up to a life of crime. He was pressed into the elven navy for a few years as punishment when he got caught stealing from a merchant, and it was there that he fell in love with the sea and his life of piracy began. He returned to the city and his sister, where they plot their largest heist yet.
Alexandria- Alex' twin sister, she was left behind when Alex was pressed into the navy. She is now one of the primier thieves in the city of Madrid, with a small residence in the Forigner's Quarter, the only place that is truly safe from Espania's (The elven nation, based on real world Spain) priest-warriors and thier zeloutous devotion to the Queen of the Winds.
Gorbois- Once a young orc noble, he was forcefully exiled when the orcish king seized his familys lands, as his father had angered the young king. Now he lives in Seacliff, and is a recent member of the Staged Men, a group of dashing ruffians that are actors by day, and thieves by night. Their leader, playwrite, and all around awsome guy is the mysterious Eremis, a human with his hands in a lot of back pockets. Recently, he picked the pocket of a foppish young elven noble with a bright red hat, and found coins of a strange make, a flame on either side of them.
Dakxa- This aspiring young kobold is a cleric of the Beetle-God Mevendrezek. He is honest, trustworthy, and a bit naive. Currently he is under the tutalige of Bishop Moxolus, and is the bishops errand boy, apprentice, secretary, and all around lackey.
Sura- This stout dwarven lady is not to be trifled with. Having grown up in Madrid, the daughter of two dwarven merchants who had strayed far from the Motherland, she had a cosmopolitan youth, steeped in both the rich cultural heritage of the dwarves (Revolution!), and the hard faith of the elves. Now she is setting out on her own, and Seacliff appears to be the best place for an aspiring young fighter to go. And so she has booked passage on The Western Shore, a fast little caravel headed for Seacliff. It leaves in the morning, and so she sleeps on the ship that night.
Somehow, these five lives will spiral together, and only time knows what part they will play in this bold and expanding world.
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ConnorSB
First Post
"A Bold Beginning"
Espania’s people were as devout as they come, a cold and unforgiving populace that shunned strangers and abhorred change. Madrid was their capital, and the elves of that place were in all things more extreme than their provincial cousins. It was no surprise, therefore, that misfits had hard lives. As extreme as their peers were in their faith, so were pariahs in their general action and demeanor. Alex and Alexandria were perfect examples.
Unlike the typical elven family, they were orphans, without kin of any kind. And kin was paramount in Espania- without family you were a vagrant not even worthy of the boots that kicked you. Their childhood was a hard one, always running, always stealing, and never safe. When Alex had just reached manhood, he was pressed into the Armada. Two years he served, before the ship he was enslaved to finally returned to Madrid and he could find his sister.
The voyage had changed him, and not for the better. True, he fell in love with the sea, and was entranced by all it offered- the smells, the swells, the ships full of plunder. But these wonders were tarnished by his enforced company- the devout officers of the armada and their clerical overseers. Every day was prayer service, and every object on the ship was stamped with the seal of the Queen of the Winds. It may have been the most holy ship in the world, but for Alex it was a malicious overseer, an unruly beast that bit the hand that fed it. He grew to hate the church, and the armada, and even his own country. Everything Espania stood for was, for him, a joke, a lie, and a fraud.
And so it was no surprise that when he returned to his sister, he had already planned the greatest heist they had ever performed.
Alex and Alexandria were going to rob the High Church of Madrid of their most important relic. Notice that he did not say holy, for the Book of Teachings was in no way important to Alex. No, in his travels he had learned what truly rule Espania. It was not the Queen of the Winds: it was her bureaucracy.
And so he and Alexandria were going to steal the Book of Accounts- the tome in which all transactions were recorded. Every bribe, every tithe, every payment for every sin committed by every important person, and every unimportant person, for the last decade or ten. It was a huge tome, and it was to be theirs.
Alex’ mind was set upon this course, and soon so was Alexandria’s. It would happen that very night.
Espania’s people were as devout as they come, a cold and unforgiving populace that shunned strangers and abhorred change. Madrid was their capital, and the elves of that place were in all things more extreme than their provincial cousins. It was no surprise, therefore, that misfits had hard lives. As extreme as their peers were in their faith, so were pariahs in their general action and demeanor. Alex and Alexandria were perfect examples.
Unlike the typical elven family, they were orphans, without kin of any kind. And kin was paramount in Espania- without family you were a vagrant not even worthy of the boots that kicked you. Their childhood was a hard one, always running, always stealing, and never safe. When Alex had just reached manhood, he was pressed into the Armada. Two years he served, before the ship he was enslaved to finally returned to Madrid and he could find his sister.
The voyage had changed him, and not for the better. True, he fell in love with the sea, and was entranced by all it offered- the smells, the swells, the ships full of plunder. But these wonders were tarnished by his enforced company- the devout officers of the armada and their clerical overseers. Every day was prayer service, and every object on the ship was stamped with the seal of the Queen of the Winds. It may have been the most holy ship in the world, but for Alex it was a malicious overseer, an unruly beast that bit the hand that fed it. He grew to hate the church, and the armada, and even his own country. Everything Espania stood for was, for him, a joke, a lie, and a fraud.
And so it was no surprise that when he returned to his sister, he had already planned the greatest heist they had ever performed.
Alex and Alexandria were going to rob the High Church of Madrid of their most important relic. Notice that he did not say holy, for the Book of Teachings was in no way important to Alex. No, in his travels he had learned what truly rule Espania. It was not the Queen of the Winds: it was her bureaucracy.
And so he and Alexandria were going to steal the Book of Accounts- the tome in which all transactions were recorded. Every bribe, every tithe, every payment for every sin committed by every important person, and every unimportant person, for the last decade or ten. It was a huge tome, and it was to be theirs.
Alex’ mind was set upon this course, and soon so was Alexandria’s. It would happen that very night.
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ConnorSB
First Post
"Work"
Skylines are not often dominated, but if you stood in Central Square in downtown Seacliff, you would see one that was. Facing south, facing the sea and the salty wind, you would see the Great Beetle rising from the center of the Point. Its great eyes, huge domed windows with a thousand shimmering facets, would stare out at the city. They would be looking everywhere all at once, one facet for every man, woman, and scampering little lizard-child in the city. No matter where you were, if you could see the eyes, one of the windows would bounce the sun’s rays onto you. This was comfort for Dakxa as he went on his errands.
Scampering across the crowded streets of Seacliff, he mused on the building. It was a tribute to its builders and to Mevendrezek, three thousand feet high, the huge dome of the body a single piece of stone coaxed up and in upon itself. It was said that the day it was finished, Mevendrezek himself rose up from the earth and before the onlookers stood two identical things: the temple and the god. Even the beetle-god himself marveled at the artistry of his worshipers.
Dakxa had much to do that afternoon. Five deliveries had to be made. One of the Dwarven clerics visiting the city for the quad-annual Festival of the Four had to be found new accommodations, as his current inn had been accidentally burnt down by a band of very drunk ogre merchants who had rented the banquet hall for a post-sale feast that got a little too fiery. There was an elven ceremony he was invited to attend, high praise but a major chunk of his time. Then there were the normal religious devotions expected of him, the bishop’s letters and things to look after, and of course he was at the bishop’s beck and call for all other things as well, supplies and cloths and such. And meal planning as well, it seemed.
With the festival a week away, the bishop had been eating less and less, and it fell on Dakxa, his secretary, errand boy, and assorted other job-person to see that he got some sustenance. Praise Mevendrezek, but the festival preparations were taking far too much of everyone’s time and life. Dakxa had not slept in nights.
Not that he minded, of course. Dakxa lived for this job- a life of service in praise of his god. And the benefits were good as well. The food alone was well worth the rest of the day- no one knows how to stir fry a moldy beetle like the priests of Mevendrezek.
There was one now! Dakxa dipped as he ran and scooped up a scarab in his clawed fist. He sang a little praise to the insect, before he put it to his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. True, Mevendrezek was a giant beetle, but it was the regular beetles of the world that served the god’s chosen race: kobolds. Mounts, food, pets- beetles were Mevendrezek’s gift to his people.
If only time for sleeping was another one of his gifts…
Skylines are not often dominated, but if you stood in Central Square in downtown Seacliff, you would see one that was. Facing south, facing the sea and the salty wind, you would see the Great Beetle rising from the center of the Point. Its great eyes, huge domed windows with a thousand shimmering facets, would stare out at the city. They would be looking everywhere all at once, one facet for every man, woman, and scampering little lizard-child in the city. No matter where you were, if you could see the eyes, one of the windows would bounce the sun’s rays onto you. This was comfort for Dakxa as he went on his errands.
Scampering across the crowded streets of Seacliff, he mused on the building. It was a tribute to its builders and to Mevendrezek, three thousand feet high, the huge dome of the body a single piece of stone coaxed up and in upon itself. It was said that the day it was finished, Mevendrezek himself rose up from the earth and before the onlookers stood two identical things: the temple and the god. Even the beetle-god himself marveled at the artistry of his worshipers.
Dakxa had much to do that afternoon. Five deliveries had to be made. One of the Dwarven clerics visiting the city for the quad-annual Festival of the Four had to be found new accommodations, as his current inn had been accidentally burnt down by a band of very drunk ogre merchants who had rented the banquet hall for a post-sale feast that got a little too fiery. There was an elven ceremony he was invited to attend, high praise but a major chunk of his time. Then there were the normal religious devotions expected of him, the bishop’s letters and things to look after, and of course he was at the bishop’s beck and call for all other things as well, supplies and cloths and such. And meal planning as well, it seemed.
With the festival a week away, the bishop had been eating less and less, and it fell on Dakxa, his secretary, errand boy, and assorted other job-person to see that he got some sustenance. Praise Mevendrezek, but the festival preparations were taking far too much of everyone’s time and life. Dakxa had not slept in nights.
Not that he minded, of course. Dakxa lived for this job- a life of service in praise of his god. And the benefits were good as well. The food alone was well worth the rest of the day- no one knows how to stir fry a moldy beetle like the priests of Mevendrezek.
There was one now! Dakxa dipped as he ran and scooped up a scarab in his clawed fist. He sang a little praise to the insect, before he put it to his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. True, Mevendrezek was a giant beetle, but it was the regular beetles of the world that served the god’s chosen race: kobolds. Mounts, food, pets- beetles were Mevendrezek’s gift to his people.
If only time for sleeping was another one of his gifts…
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ConnorSB
First Post
Hmmm.... I can't decide whether I like what the party did, or what was in my head for Kel. So... for anyone who is reading, would you rather I update the "origional" story, the one with real PCs that is just starting, or both?
Some caveats:
1. Both stories are happening simultaniously anyway, so I could theoretically do both at the same time...
2. You have yet to meet the best character ever in the one with real PCs. One of my PCs is Gorbois, the french orc swashbuckler of hilarious doom. He's probably well worth the story...
3. Umm.... look at one and two again...
Some caveats:
1. Both stories are happening simultaniously anyway, so I could theoretically do both at the same time...
2. You have yet to meet the best character ever in the one with real PCs. One of my PCs is Gorbois, the french orc swashbuckler of hilarious doom. He's probably well worth the story...
3. Umm.... look at one and two again...
GreyShadow
Explorer
If you can do both, I'd like to see how they interact in the future.
ConnorSB
First Post
I finally got around to writing more. Here's an update for Alex and Alexandra again.
"Scouting"
The plan was simple- scout first, and later that night do the job. It was Sunday, and the High Temple had just finished morning services. As the crowd flowed out from the main auditorium and into the temple grounds, the two thieves strode in, like salmon swimming upstream. Only the spawning ground was full of blackmail material, and they were going to steal it.
On the outside of their dress, both twins wore the charms and fastenings of the Queen of the Winds, but underneath were the charms and fastenings of the criminal underworld- a necklace of charm against detection, a bracelet of protection against mind reading, a tattoo of the unnamed god of thieves- a vertical dagger with four lines of various sizes crossing it.
Aside from charms, Alex and Alexandria wore the standard church-going garb of the elven populace, drab white and blue, the national colors.
The interior of the High Temple was an airy affair. In the many round rooms, the domed ceilings arched thirty, even forty feet up, with the chambers never more than half as wide as they were tall. The corridors were similarly spacious, three paces across with ribbed ceilings almost as tall as those in the rooms.
The floors were plain tile, scuffed with use. The walls were usually wooden, magically sealed together so that there was not one seam in the whole building. There were no doors either, as they prevented airflow. And there was airflow- you could not walk anywhere in the High Temple without feeling at least a breeze. In any case, it was not wood that prevented entrance to a place, it was the temple guards that barred admittance.
All this Alex and Alexandra noticed as the strolled through the halls of the temple. After an hour of wandering, it was Alex that noticed something promising. Near one of the Temple’s side entrances, only a few rooms away from the outside, two guards stood at the mouth of a particularly noticeable hallway.
It was noticeable because its walls were not the seamless ones of the rest of the temple: they were bookshelves. Peering past the guards, Alexandria noticed that the hallway opened up after twenty feet, and she caught the faintest glimpse of a staircase downwards before one of the guards shuffled and grunted, and her focus pulled back to him.
“Can I help you?” he asked. The guard was dressed in white: white leather over white cloth, with a pointed white leather helmet. His buckles and other fixings were blue.
“Why, sure!” Alex stepped forward and stared the tall elf straight in his blue eyes. “My sister and I are, umm, traveling students, studying the great architectural marvels of Espania.”
“Well,” said the guard, “there is plenty of architecture besides what we are guarding. Perhaps you’d like to see it… elsewhere.”
“But,” exclaimed Alexandra, “this is the only piece with bookshelves!”
The guard looked at her. “… and?”
“Well, um… books are heavy, and need support. Thus, the walls around them must be reinforced, all that weight you know, and well, the architecture is different in this corridor.”
“The corridor that I’m guarding. So move along, before I make you move.”
“What’s so important back there, anyways?” asks Alex.
“Records. Now move.”
“All right, all right,” the twins sigh. They look at each other and laugh, and then move on.
Once they had turned a few corners, Alex leaned over and whispered to his sister.
“That’s definitely the place. We’ll need disguises.”
“I already thought of that, dear brother. Father Arem of this very church is meeting me at the Fox and Fowl at sunset.”
"Scouting"
The plan was simple- scout first, and later that night do the job. It was Sunday, and the High Temple had just finished morning services. As the crowd flowed out from the main auditorium and into the temple grounds, the two thieves strode in, like salmon swimming upstream. Only the spawning ground was full of blackmail material, and they were going to steal it.
On the outside of their dress, both twins wore the charms and fastenings of the Queen of the Winds, but underneath were the charms and fastenings of the criminal underworld- a necklace of charm against detection, a bracelet of protection against mind reading, a tattoo of the unnamed god of thieves- a vertical dagger with four lines of various sizes crossing it.
Aside from charms, Alex and Alexandria wore the standard church-going garb of the elven populace, drab white and blue, the national colors.
The interior of the High Temple was an airy affair. In the many round rooms, the domed ceilings arched thirty, even forty feet up, with the chambers never more than half as wide as they were tall. The corridors were similarly spacious, three paces across with ribbed ceilings almost as tall as those in the rooms.
The floors were plain tile, scuffed with use. The walls were usually wooden, magically sealed together so that there was not one seam in the whole building. There were no doors either, as they prevented airflow. And there was airflow- you could not walk anywhere in the High Temple without feeling at least a breeze. In any case, it was not wood that prevented entrance to a place, it was the temple guards that barred admittance.
All this Alex and Alexandra noticed as the strolled through the halls of the temple. After an hour of wandering, it was Alex that noticed something promising. Near one of the Temple’s side entrances, only a few rooms away from the outside, two guards stood at the mouth of a particularly noticeable hallway.
It was noticeable because its walls were not the seamless ones of the rest of the temple: they were bookshelves. Peering past the guards, Alexandria noticed that the hallway opened up after twenty feet, and she caught the faintest glimpse of a staircase downwards before one of the guards shuffled and grunted, and her focus pulled back to him.
“Can I help you?” he asked. The guard was dressed in white: white leather over white cloth, with a pointed white leather helmet. His buckles and other fixings were blue.
“Why, sure!” Alex stepped forward and stared the tall elf straight in his blue eyes. “My sister and I are, umm, traveling students, studying the great architectural marvels of Espania.”
“Well,” said the guard, “there is plenty of architecture besides what we are guarding. Perhaps you’d like to see it… elsewhere.”
“But,” exclaimed Alexandra, “this is the only piece with bookshelves!”
The guard looked at her. “… and?”
“Well, um… books are heavy, and need support. Thus, the walls around them must be reinforced, all that weight you know, and well, the architecture is different in this corridor.”
“The corridor that I’m guarding. So move along, before I make you move.”
“What’s so important back there, anyways?” asks Alex.
“Records. Now move.”
“All right, all right,” the twins sigh. They look at each other and laugh, and then move on.
Once they had turned a few corners, Alex leaned over and whispered to his sister.
“That’s definitely the place. We’ll need disguises.”
“I already thought of that, dear brother. Father Arem of this very church is meeting me at the Fox and Fowl at sunset.”
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ConnorSB
First Post
"Negotiations"
Gorbois was not pleased, not at all. Not only had Eremis cast him, once again, as the dastardly villain for Acts I and III, but he had to work crowd duty in Act II. How was he supposed to change costumes that quickly, and still look good on stage? He would have to have a talk with his employer. They could not treat him like this; He was Gorbois, an actor and a gentleman, not some petty thief. Although he did have talent off the stage…
He did not knock at Eremis’ office door, brusquely knocking it open. There was a loud bang when the door hit the wall. Eremis looked up from his papers. Eremis was a tall, brown haired human, with a serious face that was undercut by the smiles that often showed on it, and the laughter that erupted from its mouth.
“What ees thees, Eremis? I will have you know, I weell not tolerate being the veellain een every play your write! C’est stupid, Monsieur!”
He hit the desk with his light green fist. “And to make me work the crowd een Act deux, c’est, c’est horrible! I, I do not like thees!”
Eremis looked up at the orc actor, just recently arrived from Gaul. Gorbois was short for his race, but handsome. He kept his tusks quite clean and short, jutting up above the edges of his mouth in a dashing sort of way. He was well dressed, in subtly styled leather armor over a long black shirt and pants. He was, in all respects, a well cultured actor.
“Weell?” asked Gorbois, his eyes shooting needles at Eremis.
“Gorbois, Gorbois, I do these things for your own good! Come! I tire of this office. Let us walk, and I shall explain to you why I make you work so.”
“All right, Eremis. But you beest have good answers pour moi.”
Eremis got up and walked around the desk to the orc. He put his hand on the green man’s shoulder as they walked out of the office and down the hall, towards the main stage.
“I work you so hard because you are already so good.”
“Flattery will not heelp you, Eremis.”
“But my friend, it is true. You are one of the finest actors I have ever hired, and a good pickpocket to boot. If I did not challenge you, those skills would fade. You know what they say-“
“- And what is that?”
“Use it or lose it, Gorbois. And you definitely do not want to lose it. When I saw you, sneaking off that ship from Gaul, you had nothing but the cloths on your back, and in fact owed the captain quite a bit of money. And look at you now! You have style, you have money, you have friends and a carreer.”
“But why must I always play the veellain?”
“All the villains I write are challenging roles, are they not?”
“Oui.”
“So I am challenging you again and again, you see? And the fact that the crowd responds to your tusks better than, say, Lasathalanus’ golden locks and pointed ears, well that cannot hurt you.”
“But all the otheer actors, Lasathalanus, Hobin Kobad, Robert Yorn and the rest, they play all sorts of characters, and I only veelains. What ees the parity there?”
“Gorbois, Gorbois, they may play many different kinds of characters, but not half as well as you play villains.”
“Fine, fine, Eremis. You ween.”
“Gorbois, you do me wrong! I’m doing this for you, not for me.”
“Oh, oui Eremis, of course you do.”
“But there is something you could do for me, and maybe I could get Hobin to work the crowd in Act 2…”
“Oui?”
“I had a whole bunch of pamphlets printed up about the play and the Globe in general. The usual. “Moon Maiden’s Folly” in big letters across the top, little descriptions and a few drawings of the sets and the stage, and a little bit about the theater on the back. Anyway, I need them distributed, a sort of publicity thing, and I think you would do a great job. You were excellent as the devilish hawker of wares in “Riding Day for Roxo,” I think you’ll do well with this.”
“Eremis, this work ees below my station, but I will do it eef you make Hobin work the crowd, and perhaps increase my pay for the performance, by, oh, ten gold.”
“Five.”
“Eight.”
“Seven.”
“Fini!”
Gorbois was not pleased, not at all. Not only had Eremis cast him, once again, as the dastardly villain for Acts I and III, but he had to work crowd duty in Act II. How was he supposed to change costumes that quickly, and still look good on stage? He would have to have a talk with his employer. They could not treat him like this; He was Gorbois, an actor and a gentleman, not some petty thief. Although he did have talent off the stage…
He did not knock at Eremis’ office door, brusquely knocking it open. There was a loud bang when the door hit the wall. Eremis looked up from his papers. Eremis was a tall, brown haired human, with a serious face that was undercut by the smiles that often showed on it, and the laughter that erupted from its mouth.
“What ees thees, Eremis? I will have you know, I weell not tolerate being the veellain een every play your write! C’est stupid, Monsieur!”
He hit the desk with his light green fist. “And to make me work the crowd een Act deux, c’est, c’est horrible! I, I do not like thees!”
Eremis looked up at the orc actor, just recently arrived from Gaul. Gorbois was short for his race, but handsome. He kept his tusks quite clean and short, jutting up above the edges of his mouth in a dashing sort of way. He was well dressed, in subtly styled leather armor over a long black shirt and pants. He was, in all respects, a well cultured actor.
“Weell?” asked Gorbois, his eyes shooting needles at Eremis.
“Gorbois, Gorbois, I do these things for your own good! Come! I tire of this office. Let us walk, and I shall explain to you why I make you work so.”
“All right, Eremis. But you beest have good answers pour moi.”
Eremis got up and walked around the desk to the orc. He put his hand on the green man’s shoulder as they walked out of the office and down the hall, towards the main stage.
“I work you so hard because you are already so good.”
“Flattery will not heelp you, Eremis.”
“But my friend, it is true. You are one of the finest actors I have ever hired, and a good pickpocket to boot. If I did not challenge you, those skills would fade. You know what they say-“
“- And what is that?”
“Use it or lose it, Gorbois. And you definitely do not want to lose it. When I saw you, sneaking off that ship from Gaul, you had nothing but the cloths on your back, and in fact owed the captain quite a bit of money. And look at you now! You have style, you have money, you have friends and a carreer.”
“But why must I always play the veellain?”
“All the villains I write are challenging roles, are they not?”
“Oui.”
“So I am challenging you again and again, you see? And the fact that the crowd responds to your tusks better than, say, Lasathalanus’ golden locks and pointed ears, well that cannot hurt you.”
“But all the otheer actors, Lasathalanus, Hobin Kobad, Robert Yorn and the rest, they play all sorts of characters, and I only veelains. What ees the parity there?”
“Gorbois, Gorbois, they may play many different kinds of characters, but not half as well as you play villains.”
“Fine, fine, Eremis. You ween.”
“Gorbois, you do me wrong! I’m doing this for you, not for me.”
“Oh, oui Eremis, of course you do.”
“But there is something you could do for me, and maybe I could get Hobin to work the crowd in Act 2…”
“Oui?”
“I had a whole bunch of pamphlets printed up about the play and the Globe in general. The usual. “Moon Maiden’s Folly” in big letters across the top, little descriptions and a few drawings of the sets and the stage, and a little bit about the theater on the back. Anyway, I need them distributed, a sort of publicity thing, and I think you would do a great job. You were excellent as the devilish hawker of wares in “Riding Day for Roxo,” I think you’ll do well with this.”
“Eremis, this work ees below my station, but I will do it eef you make Hobin work the crowd, and perhaps increase my pay for the performance, by, oh, ten gold.”
“Five.”
“Eight.”
“Seven.”
“Fini!”
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