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Character Sheet
Xernon Montgomery Huxley, artificer (44M)
Inventory:
Shock baton1
Binding ward2
Light stone3
Salvaged artificer toolkit4
Depleted power-cell5
Outer City access chit6
Threadbare longcoat7
32 Union marks8
Strange sarithal component9
Conditions:
“Come on, Veyra. After everything we’ve been through, you know you can trust me.”
“Do I? Like I knew I could trust those ignis-charges?”
“That was one time.”
“One time which cost me much.”
“I made a mistake, but anyone could’ve, especially with glyphwork that complex. I’ve sold you plenty of other sarithal which worked perfectly.”
“Besides,” Jerrim says, “that was just after… you know…”
“Kysha’s death is irrelevant. I don’t need people who crack under pressure. Your fortunes don’t look like they’ve improved much.”
“I’m turning things around.”
She steps towards you with Volkir looming over her shoulder. “Or maybe you’ve only become more desperate. Maybe you heard about the depot job and thought you’d be able to make some coin ratting us out to the Artificers Guild.”
“That’s not how it is, Veyra.”
“Montë wouldn’t do something like that,” Jerrim says.
“We shall see. Volkir!”
The wildling steps around her and surges forward. He grabs you. You recoil, but he drives you down. He smells of must and sour breath. His strength is unbelievable.
Your knee cracks against the brick floor. Pain explodes up your spine.
“Veyra, you don’t have to do this,” Jerrim says, but he shuffles back a pace and does not interfere.
She ignores him and places an icy hand on your head, gazing into your eyes. You try to look away, but Volkir grabs your chin and holds your head steady.
Veyra takes a deep breath and her pupils dilate, growing to fill your vision. The seconds stretch out. The surrounding room is suspended in space. Your steady heartbeat thunders through your head… or is that Veyra’s?
The room melts away and you’re left floating in the void, then you’re falling. From somewhere far above, Veyra presides over you in menacing judgement.
…A time of madness. A time of bloodshed. Kysha’s screams before a time of guilt and shame…
…Then comes days of heavy drinking and nights plagued with terrors. Shaking hands and sloppy glyphwork. A deal gone wrong. A customer enraged. Then another. The name the Huxster is whispered with derision rather than spoken of with reverence…
…Then comes years of desperation, all blurred together. Old friends turn their backs. Old colleagues close their doors. Solitude in squalor…
…A Guild official makes you an offer. You know much of the underworld’s inner workings. But you keep your mouth shut. Even in your destitution, their coin is worth less than your honour…
…An inspector’s trap. A blackmail threat. A scry-mark branded on your arm. Ten-thousand marks. Three days…
You’re on the floor, gasping, blinking through blurred vision. Your head is light and the room sways around you.
Jerrim kneels beside you. “Montë? Are you okay?”
“Yeah…” you say slowly as the room comes back into focus. “I think so.”
Veyra is standing several feet away, short of breath and slick with sweat. A thin trail of blood dribbles from her left eye. There’s always been something off about her. Something you’ve never quite been able to work out. But you realise now, she must have the Sight. How else to account for such strange powers?
Jerrim helps you into a seated position and leans you against the wall. You’re dizzy.
“So?” Jerrim asks Veyra.
She wipes the blood and sweat from her face and clears her throat. “He’s clear.” Then she looks at you. “He’s probably got more reason than any of us to make sure we pull this off.”
You nod. Jerrim smiles.
“That scry-mark on your arm though…”
“Damn,” Jerrim mutters.
“Jerrim’s right. We can use you, provided you can keep your hands steady. But as soon as we’re out of range of the null-stone, Zal Kerrith will be watching your every move. I can’t have that. You’re sure you still want in?”
You swallow before answering. “Yes.”
“Very well. Volkir, cut the scry-mark off his arm.”
He advances towards you again, reaching for his knife. A wicked, fang-filled grin splits his face.
What do you do?
Submit: Let Volkir cut off the scry-mark.
Improvise: “You don’t need to do that. I can modify the null-stone to be portable. I’ll just carry it round with me.”
Negotiate: “You don’t need to do that. If you can bring me the right materials, I can just deactivate the scry-mark.”
Withdraw: “On second thought, I’m out. Thanks though.”
Thank you for your time and attention.
A collapsible steel rod with a power-cell on one end and a series of lightning-glyphs on the other. Illegal to carry without a permit, which you don’t have.
A small glyph-worked pad which when primed will briefly blind and paralyse the next person who touches it. Single use, although a clever artificer might be able to salvage it.
A fist-sized sarithal which, when activated, will produce a steady white light and hover just above your head. Good for about twenty-four hours of continuous light.
A battered collection of tools, pieced together from scrap yards, abandoned Guild depots, and trash bins. Barely functional but well-loved.
Still warm to the touch. You keep telling yourself it could be recharged or bartered with, but maybe it’s just weighing you down.
A Union ID modified to provide you with access through all Outer City checkpoints free of charge. It works most of the time.
Patched, frayed, and splitting at the seams, this coat has been keeping you warm for well on a decade now. Lined with hidden pockets, and reinforced with flexible but heavy chitinous plates.
A sad collection of coins and credit chits. Enough for a hot meal or two and a ride on the train.
Humming and inscribed with a mode of Siris Script with which you’re not familiar. You don’t know what it does and you can’t remember where you got it.
You hurt your knee almost six months ago and it never seems to get any better. Getting old is no joke.
Unless you’re in a null-zone, Zal Kerrith will know where you are and what you’re doing.
A little over seventy hours remain.
Oh, yeah! Negotiate wins the day!
Tough choice. I like the idea of "bring me the right materials." May be an opportunity to acquire some more gadgets and show them, even though we're getting old and creaky, we still got some tricks. I hope our knee can hold out though... it may be our downfall.