Session 1 Log

Chat by (9)
<>: * Looking up your hostname…
<>: *
Checking ident…
<>: * Found your hostname
<>: *
Received identd response
- 9/11/2010 19:46
- ___ _ _ _ _ ___ _____
- / __|| | __ _ ___| |_ | \| || __||_ |
- \
_ \| |/ ` |(<|><nickname> x, where <nickname>
- is your current nickname.
- Server admin: Zok <>
- Oper: Trueborn <>
- Oper: O_RLY <>
- This server is paid for and hosted by Zok of SlashNET is
- not affiliated with and the views and opinions expressed at
- are not those of SlashNET. For issues and concerns about
-, please email Zok (ATTN:
- If you have any questions or comments regarding this irc server,
- contact the server administrator(s).
+ jacobkosh set to mode +x
<nickserv>: This nickname is registered and protected. If it is your nickname, type /msg NickServ IDENTIFY password. Otherwise, please choose a different nickname.
<nickserv>: If you do not change your nickname within one minute, it will be changed automatically.
Critical Failures Games – Delphindaes considers old things new again, starts hooking up with elderly women, “if i ain’t seen them, they’re fresh to me”
Topic set by simonwolf on Sat Jul 17 2010 20:24:49 GMT-0500 (Central Daylight Time)
<nickserv>: Password accepted -
you are now recognized.
<jacobkosh>: Howdy, everyone!
<ell>: yooou
<mranthropy>: Greetings!
<jacobkosh>: Hey, guys How is everyone tonight? Did you get some sleep, Ell?
<ell>: yes
<ell>: still feeling sleep though
<ell>: hit me with your mixtape
<jacobkosh>: sure thing, 1 sec
<jacobkosh>: So desc will be joining us as soon as he gets home. I figure we’ll give it till 7:05 and then just start, and write him in as need be.
<thomamelas>: Okay
<mranthropy>: Sounds good.
<ell>: Shivahn will be coming in here to watch, if nobody minds
<jacobkosh>: I HATE SHIVAHN
<jacobkosh>: no that’s fine
<thomamelas>: I don’t have a problem with that.
<mranthropy>: Its no problem for me.
<ell>: when she gets home in any case, which is in at least 30 min
<jacobkosh>: I didn’t know Shivahn was a gamer, actually! That’s cool. Is she curious about rpgs in general or Mage in specific?
<ell>: rpgs in general
<jacobkosh>: cool, okay
<jacobkosh>: I have a nail that needs clipping and my clippers are not in the bathroom or anywhere. This is basically worse than the Holocaust
<ell>: scissors
<jacobkosh>: that sounds painful D:
<ell>: how?>
<mranthropy>: I think my wife and I have bought something like 20 sets of those clippers. And everytime one of them gets lost it becomes a lengthy cycle of accusation…
<thomamelas>: Hey Desc
<jacobkosh>: Desc!
<thomamelas>: I have like five pairs but I can only ever find one at a time.
<ell>: well I use scissors for my nails
<jacobkosh>: Exactly, Justin. I really should just bite the bullet and get like five of them
<jacobkosh>: even toenails?
<ell>: especially
<jacobkosh>: are you left-handed?
<jacobkosh>: I just get paranoid around scissors
<ell>: no
<desc>: yo
<jacobkosh>: Okay! Rad. The gang is all here.
<ell>: yo desc
<jacobkosh>: heeeerrreeeee weeee goooooooooooooo~
<ell>: biut seriously. Nail scissors
<jacobkosh>: It’s a warm, damp evening in Vancouver in the summer of 2012, and the four of you, as recent arrivals to the Awakened community, have been asked to meet someone answering to the name “Montesquieu” at a bar in the trendy, kind of yuppie Gastown district.
<jacobkosh>: How are each of you getting there, how are you dressed, and what do you look like?
<desc>: Elithora is driving in an unassuming basic black late model Volkswagen Jetta. It would look utterly unremarkable in traffic. She’s wearing a black skirt and a muted green sweater. She’s 38, with wild curls of black hair and a striking face. She looks somewhat distracted as she rolls from one stop light to the next.
<jacobkosh>: Traffic tonight is balls, by the way. Lots of people with long commutes choking up the narrow streets at this hour. As an Acanthus, though, Elithora is probably having an easier time than most.
<jacobkosh>: Ell, thomamelas, MrAnthropy?
<ell>: Aurelia is taking the skytrain
<thomamelas>: Drove in a metallic blue 1968 MGC roadster with the top down. Has a look like he rather enjoyed his drive. As if he made every light. He’s wearing a dark blue sport jacket, with a white polo and black slacks. He has an acdemic air about him, as if he is studing everything around him for a paper.
<thomamelas>: (Forces. For when you just never wanna wait for a red light again.)
<jacobkosh>: (exactly!)
<desc>: Easier is, of course, only relative. The strands of fate tie together both those who do and do not use turn signals or merge properly. Elithora peeks glances at her phone as she drives, periodically checking her work email for some bureaucratic update.
<mranthropy>: Sinon is taking a cab. He is wearing a crumpled set of rather expensive clothing and has the appearance of a rich ‘kid’ in his late 20s. (He is currently wearing the Prince of Feasts masque.)
<ell>: She’s younger, in her early-mid twenties, and wearing a frumpy gray wool skirt and a navy light raincoat. Her black hair is pulled up in a messy bun/ponytail/thing
<ell>: Her big black docs may or may not betray something of her past
<thomamelas>: Blackjack is in his late 20’s. Dark hair is neatly styled, and he has a habit of tapping the ring on his left hand.
<jacobkosh>: One by one, you arrive – first Blackjack, then Elithora, then Aurelia, and finally Sinon. The Gastown neighborhood is one of those vintage areas that’s been carefully and very commercially “restored” to a hip nighttime destination. Its most famous feature is a steam-powered vintage clock that isn’t vintage at all – it was installed in the 1970s.
<desc>: (do we all know each other well / in passing / or is this the first meeting between the four of us?)
<jacobkosh>: (I’m assuming this is your first meeting unless any of you would like to specify otherwise)
<ell>: (I’m sure I’ve met Elithora in passing)
<ell>: (We have similar interests in the same order, after all, even if I’m really new at all this)
<desc>: (probably, using local mage research libraries if nothing else. Elithora is an Assistant Savant to the area magerati.)
<jacobkosh>: The place you’re meeting at is called Chemical Wedding. Getting there involves parking some distance away, crossing the street, and going down a cobblestone alleyway between two squat brick buildings, then down a set of stairs to a heavy, riveted door – a bit like a speakeasy, really.
<desc>: (tenure someday ;

<desc>: How dreadfully hip.
<jacobkosh>: Exactly. The streets are thronging with upwardly-mobile account managers and graphic designers moving between gallerias and bistros – but nobody seems to pay much attention to Chemical Wedding.
<desc>: Elithora is sitting at an open booth, sipping a dark beer and sniffing for mages.
<jacobkosh>: As each of you enter, you feel a sensation washing over you – a bit more alert, as if you’ve downed a coffee, accompanied by a light smoky aroma, like leaves burning in the distance.

  • MrAnthropy is now known as Sinon
    <ell>: Aurelia walks in and spots her, pulling off her coat to reveal a sky-blue sleeveless top that is a bit too small for her. She keeps talking about needing to get some more exercise but… “Hey”
    <jacobkosh>: (You guys have a few minutes to meet-and-greet, and then your contact will arrive.)
    <desc>: Elithora touches the coat as Aurelia sits. “Oh, I like your jacket.” She makes chit-chat about mage politics while trying to get a waiter’s attention.
    Sinon walks in. He surveys the room quickly, sits down at the bar and orders drinks for himself and whoever else happens to be near him.
    <jacobkosh>: The bar resembles nothing so much as an old-fashioned London club – the sort of place people meet to play Backgammon. Overstuffed leather seats, hardwoods, Tiffany lights – the entire atmosphere is subdued and smoky. The bartender is a balding, middle-aged man who moves quietly and efficiently between the very sparse scattering of patrons.
    <thomamelas>: Blackjack moves to the bar, ordering a whiskey and then sitting by the ladies. “Are you two perhaps waiting to meet someone?”
    <jacobkosh>: The bartender pours Blackjack’s whiskey and then steps over to the group with a pad to take your orders.
    <desc>: Elithora is mid-gripe with Aurelia. “So I told him, they didn’t even email the spell schematics until 4:30 on Friday and …” She pauses and is not overly subtle about magically pinging the room while looking at BJ. “Oh, perhaps.”

<sinon>: After chit-chatting with various other patrons of the bar, and buying everyone he meets a drink. Sinon sits down with the group.
<jacobkosh>: Desc, this is clearly someone’s Demesne – you’ve heard it had a reputation as a gathering place for the Awakened, but this is the first time you’ve been in. The resonance here is murky, as you’d expect from a place where mages gather in groups for extended periods, but there’s clearly a glamour woven to keep Sleepers ignoring the place.
<desc>: I had always wondered why it had so few Yelp reviews for this neighborhood. “It seems our mysterious benefactor is a popular fellow. Do you guys know this ‘Montesquie’?”
<thomamelas>: Nods to Sinon. Sitting back in the chair and crossing his legs. “It was suggested that I meet him here. But that is all I know.”
<jacobkosh>: 7d10h8
<critical>: jacobkosh, 7d10h8: 5 [7d10h8=9,4,8,9,9,7,8]
Sinon raises his glass in response to Blackjack’s nod. “I have not heard of him either.”
<ell>: (sorry, had to sign some forms, just transferred the insurance to my place to my name)
<desc>: (ells you so responsible)
<jacobkosh>: While he was making his circuit of the room, Sinon noticed a mage he’s met before – a woman called Miss Smith, a Guardian of the Shadowman Legacy and Provost to the Guardian Councilor. She tends to look like a female G-man with an intimidating mien, but she’s apparently here under a Masque, sitting in the corner, watching.
<jacobkosh>: (imagine the G-man from Half-Life as a tightly-wound brunette.)
<ell>: Aurelia shrugs. “I don’t know anyone really…”
<desc>: “Curious. Didn’t ring any bells at work. One can’t pass up a promising mystery, can one?”
<desc>: Elithora takes a final swig of her beer and squints at the bottle as she plops it onto the table.
<desc>: “He must be around. You know how they are.” Elithora glances at the bartender first, then peeks around the room and shrugs.
<ell>: Aurelia smiles broadly. “Have you looked around? I think everyone in this place is wide awake.”
<thomamelas>: “Building up the proper aura of mystery.” In a slightly nasal Boston Brahman accent.
<desc>: “Ha. Exactly.”
<jacobkosh>: After a few minutes of chitchat, the door opens, admitting the sound of rain and a sharply-dressed blonde man in his mid-thirties. His expensive-looking jacket is completely dry. He scans the room briefly and his eyes light on your group. “Aha!” He hustles over.
<ell>: I grin “The popular kid arrives fashionably late. You’d think we’d grow out of this stuff but if anything I think we grow into it.”
<desc>: Elithora smirks but can’t hide a genuine curiosity.
Sinon signals to the bartender for another round. “And whatever our friend here would like.”
<ell>: Aurelia has barely started on hers. “Hey, I’m on a diet here!”
<jacobkosh>: Pulling over a nearby chair, he sits down and offers each of you a hand, giving no indication that he heard Aurelia’s comment. “Pleasure to meet you all! I’m called Montesquieu, as you’ve, uh, probably guessed.” He looks up at the bartender. “Cuba Libre, Blake.”
<jacobkosh>: The bartender nods and starts mixing drinks.
<desc>: “So, what do you have for us, Monty?”
<jacobkosh>: Montesquieu claps his hands together. “Okay! Excellent. Four of you, that’s pretty good, that’s pretty good. Better than I expected, frankly.” He looks at Elithora.
<jacobkosh>: “Well, I’m the new Provost to our Hierarch, Rattenbury, and since the next Consilium-wide meeting isn’t for another couple of weeks, he’s asked me to kind of…take the measure of some of our new arrivals. I don’t know how much you’ve heard about the situation here in Vancouver…”
<desc>: Elithora glances around the table. “I’m a recent transfer from down south…”
<jacobkosh>: The bartender, Blake, drops off the new round of drinks. Montesquieu takes his Cuba Libre and drains half of it at one go, then smacks his lips contentedly. "God, I needed that. Okay. So. What it boils down to is, Vancouver’s getting flooded with Awakened. People coming because of jobs, because of troubles elsewhere – and immigration.
<jacobkosh>: "We’re kind of up to our ears in people we don’t know and whose motives nobody has spoken for. It’s made things…tense, right? You can imagine. So Rattenbury, my boss – he’s decided that newcomers are to be immediately registered with the Consilium and formed into temporary cabals so we can keep track of you. And so you guys can stay safe, too.
<sinon>: Sinon drops his masque. “So you either need help controlling this situation or you need us to prove our usefulness.”
<thomamelas>: “Well one does speak towards the other.”
<ell>: Aurelia frowns. “So… how many people were supposed to show up here?”
<jacobkosh>: Montesquieu points two index fingers at Sinon. “Bingo. It’s not the way we’d prefer to do things – we used to really roll out the red carpet – but Awakened society still thinks card files are dangerous, untested new technology.” He looks at Aurelia. “We’ve gotten word of ten new arrivals in the past month. Who knows who they could be? Seers, Banishers…”
<jacobkosh>: “Bottom line is, we’re behind the times. I’m trying to do my part, but…yeah.”
<desc>: Elithora leans back and folds her arms. “I thought everyone seemed a bit cagey when I was transferred. I suppose we haven’t yet been vetted.”
<jacobkosh>: “Well, the fact that you’ve shown up here is a big step forward, honestly,” he shrugs. “But this guy – Sinon, right? – he’s right. As long as we’ve got you here, we may as well have you run some errands. Just till everyone’s comfortable.”
<ell>: Aurelia is fretting a little. “Were they all supposed to show up here? Because Deilung Sifu is not a banisher or anything like that.”
<jacobkosh>: He pulls out an iPhone and says a name to Siri in High Speech.
<jacobkosh>: “It looks like one of the heralds has spoken to him. He’s fine for now.”
<thomamelas>: “My First Talon spoke of things being…tense here with other ‘things’.” With a degree of disain towards those ‘things’.
<ell>: Aurelia looks somewhat relieved
<desc>: Elithora raises an eyebrow and nurses her new beer. She touches Aurelia’s arm as if about to say something, but then pauses and listens to BJ with some curiosity.
<jacobkosh>: Montesquieu shrugs. “It is what it is. I imagine it’s got to be a temporary state of affairs.”
<ell>: (we lost Justin)
<desc>: (poop)
<jacobkosh>: (nooo~)
<desc>: (casting magic missiles at the darkness until he returns)
<desc>: 1d20
<critical>: desc, 1d20: 19 [1d20=19]
<desc>: 8-)
<jacobkosh>: (welcome back!)
<sinon>: (grr. Lost connection.)
<ell>: wb
<thomamelas>: wb
<desc>: wub
<jacobkosh>: Montesquieu glances at his phone again, frowns, finishes his drink and stands up. “Talking of service, are you all available for the next hour or so?”
<desc>: Elithora shrugs. “Of course.”
<sinon>: Sinon nods. “We can play this game. What do you need?”
<ell>: (Hey Shivahn!)
<jacobkosh>: (Hi, Shivahn!)
<thomamelas>: “Nothing better to do.”
<shivahn>: (Hello!)
<jacobkosh>: (Shivahn: the story so far: )
<shivahn>: (Ok, thanks.)
<ell>: “I guess. I mean, may as well, right?”
<jacobkosh>: “Alright, if you’ll follow me…” He pulls out the phone and says something else in High Speech, then “Meet us outside.”
<jacobkosh>: (to the phone, I mean. not to you guys.)
<jacobkosh>: He leads you out onto the damp cobbles outside the bar – the rain has turned to a light, warm mist – then to the street, where a sleek, dark limousine idles. He opens the door and waves you in.
<jacobkosh>: Those of you looking notice that nobody is driving.
<desc>: Elithora slides into a seat. “Clearly you were Fated to be a politician in some time-displaced life.”
<sinon>: \me enters the limousine. Once inside he pulls an overstuffed billfold out of his pocket and places it away in the backpack that was previously slung over his shoulder.
<sinon>: (He has dropped his Prince of Feasts masque.)
<ell>: Aurelia slides in next to Elithora, any familiarity a comfort right now.
<jacobkosh>: Montesquieu smiles. “I’m a transplant myself. This is all circa 1990s dot-com money, or what’s left of it.” He squeezes in next to you guys.
<thomamelas>: Waits for the rest to enter before sliding in. Carefully adjusting an unseen object on his hip.
<ell>: “You get bought out?”
<jacobkosh>: “The Richmond meeting,” he says to no-one in particular, and the car shifts into gear and moves forward smoothly.
<desc>: Elithora does a double-take at the nonexistent driver, only now noticing.
<jacobkosh>: “Right before the bubble. I was a retiree in his twenties. That’s actually how I Awakened, I think – you get a lot of time to think about how pointless everything seems after a year or two of that…”
<jacobkosh>: His eyes refocus. “But on to tonight’s business. My second appointment of the evening. I need you four to watch my back at an exchange.”
<ell>: “At least you got a big payday.”
<sinon>: “Any details?”
<ell>: 4d10h8
<critical>: Ell, 4d10h8: 1 [4d10h8=4,7,3,[10,3]]
<jacobkosh>: “Well, I’ve told you about our…population problem. That extends to Demesnes and Hallows as well. Put bluntly, there isn’t enough Mana in Vancouver to go around. You can imagine how that exacerbates things.”
<jacobkosh>: “There’s a fellow – a Mastigos Libertine by the name of Pitch – who makes a business out of supplying us with Tass. He’s got a good setup; he finds clients in other cities or out in the boondocks, guys who live in forest glades swimming in Mana, and gives them things they need in exchange for Tass to sell to us.”
<desc>: Elithora mutters, “Always with the real estate,” to no one in particular and listens.
<jacobkosh>: “It’s not normally the sort of business the Guardians would tolerate, but they reluctantly have allowed him to operate here because keeping the Consilium in Mana helps keep tempers manageable.”
<ell>: “What does he charge?”
<thomamelas>: “I assume an arm and a leg.”
<jacobkosh>: “Quid pro quo. Whatever his other clients need that they can’t make for themselves. Some mountain man who maybe can’t forge a magic knife for himself or whatever.”
<jacobkosh>: “That’s what we have to trade – the expertise of dozens of Mages in a world-class city.”
<jacobkosh>: “We’ve done this before, but…it’s always good to bring backup. And to vary your pattern. He’s met with our Heralds before, or individual Mages, but sending a Provost reminds him that he operates at the sufferance of the Consilium.”
<ell>: (crashy crashy. What I miss?)
<jacobkosh>: (I’ll PM you)
<desc>: Elithora looks somewhat nervous but nods grudgingly to Montesquieu. “Smart.”
<jacobkosh>: After about twenty minutes the limo crosses a bridge to Richmond, a bustling borough north of downtown and home to a lot of recent Asian immigration. The tight skyscrapers have given way to wide boulevards and big-box stores, a lot of which sell discount electronics.
<ell>: “Well if you’re worried we should prepare suitable defenses.”
<jacobkosh>: Imagine your favorite soulless suburb, except the Best Buys are made up to look like pagodas.
<desc>: That’s so Mulan. /margaretcho
<thomamelas>: “Who travels without them?”
<jacobkosh>: “Good call, miss. We’ve got a couple minutes – make your preparations now.”
<ell>: Aurelia nods. “Mental defenses, Mr. Blackjack?”
<thomamelas>: “Physical and magical. Mind isn’t my forte.”
<ell>: 4d10h8
<critical>: Ell, I don’t understand your moon language… try !help
<ell>: 4d10h8
<critical>: Ell, 4d10h8: 1 [4d10h8=7,1,4,8]
<desc>: (if I want to feel out any obvious glaring doom in the immediate future, is it gnosis dice + time dice?)
<ell>: (there’s no real reason to roll that a half dozen times, is there? I mean even if I fail I can just… try again and I’m not at risk of paradox here.)
<desc>: (or is something like that more Fate since i’m all skilled up for postcognition and such)
<ell>: (prolly time+fate conjunctional, which means use whichever is higher)
<jacobkosh>: (yeah, higher arcanum plus Gnosis)
<sinon>: (Just in general: how do you want us to handle things we are rolling for? PM/out in the open/smoke signal?)
<jacobkosh>: out in the open should be fine, usually, but if you want to do something covertly you can always send a PM
<desc>: (Time is higher … this is not really any formal so much as an uneasy ‘are there any giant flashing red lights right in front of us in the time stream’)
<ell>: Aurelia is castin Mind Shield on everyone in the car. They subtract my Mind dots (3) from attempts to mentally read or influence them, meaning pretty much any Mind Arcanum effect
<desc>: 5d10h8
<critical>: desc, 5d10h8: 1 [5d10h8=9,1,1,7,2]
<thomamelas>: Casting a shield against magic on each of you, one at a time.
<thomamelas>: 4d10h8
<critical>: thomamelas, 4d10h8: 2 [4d10h8=7,6,8,[10,6]]
<jacobkosh>: desc, something in the air gives you a feeling that this meeting may go awry.
<jacobkosh>: (since you guys have time to prepare, I ain’t gonna make you roll individually)
<jacobkosh>: You pull into the back lot of a closed wholesaler, out by the loading docks. Montesquieu looks out the window and shrugs. “Not here yet, but it’ll be soon.” He opens the door and steps outside.
<desc>: Elithora’s mouth twists into an “S” but she doesn’t say anything specific beyond, “Let’s be careful” to the car at large.
<jacobkosh>: There’s a pleasingly cool breeze coming in from the east, down from the mountains. It carries the smells of local cooking and the sound of distant traffic, but aside from yourselves this parking lot is empty.
<jacobkosh>: Suddenly a Portal opens up! It reminds the more pop-culturally-literate of you of the Delorean appearing in Back to the Future – this glowing tear in the fabric of the Fallen World yawns open with sparks and electricity arcing everywhere, and then a magenta VW bus barrels into the lot, screeching to a halt.
<jacobkosh>: “There he is.”
<ell>: Aurelia puts her eyes on
<ell>: 3d10h8
<critical>: Ell, 3d10h8: 2 [3d10h8=9,8,3]
<thomamelas>: Closing his eyes and then opening them as he opens up his mage sight.
<thomamelas>: 4d10h8
<critical>: thomamelas, 4d10h8: 1 [4d10h8=9,3,2,2]
<sinon>: Sinon does the same.
<sinon>: 4d10h8
<critical>: Sinon, 4d10h8: 0 [4d10h8=5,7,4,3]
<ell>: I assume that bus is glowing like the sun
<jacobkosh>: Those of you using Supernal vision see a pair of men inside the bus – one clearly Awakened, one not. And yes, the bus looks like something from the Magical Mystery Tour in this vision.
<sinon>: (Well nothing magical going on here!)
<jacobkosh>: (whoops! Sinon is too distracted by the blazing shade of magenta)
<desc>: (I assume Fate-vision cast on the commercial hub of a metropolitan mage network would be an un-entangleable knot of threads in realtime and negotiations are about to start)
<jacobkosh>: The doors open and the men step out. The mage is a slightly built man in his early thirties – he’s clean cut, with small earrings, and wearing skinny jeans and a baggy hoodie over an Atari t-shirt. The other – who must be a Sleepwalker – is tall, older, bald, and bulky. Something about him says “biker” although he’s dressed modestly.
<jacobkosh>: (you know how to pick out the relevant bits, but yes, the first time it would be overwhelming)
<jacobkosh>: The younger man steps forward. “Dolph, if you could get the stuff from out back.” He rubs his hands together. “Is there a problem, Mister Monta…Monty…whatever?”
<jacobkosh>: Eyeing the four of you.
<sinon>: Sinon eyes them back.
<thomamelas>: Hands at his sides as he looks around the area, somewhat ignoring the men since the others are watching, but is watching the enviroment.
<sinon>: (Wits + Streetwise (Black Market) to evaluate how things are going in mundane terms?)
<ell>: (quick wits+empathy roll to get a read on this guy. I figure casting a spell might set him off)
<jacobkosh>: (Sure thing!)
<jacobkosh>: (go for it, both of you)
<sinon>: 6d10h8
<critical>: Sinon, 6d10h8: 2 [6d10h8=2,1,7,9,[10,6],4]
<ell>: 5d10h8
<critical>: Ell, 5d10h8: 1 [5d10h8=3,7,[10,2],2,3]
<jacobkosh>: Sinon thinks Pitch is pretty at ease here – he’s not a drug dealer and he’s dealing with local officials, so it’s not like he’s going to get in trouble. He seems mainly curious. Dolph is clearly a professional at this sort of thing and there is a pretty obvious revolver-shaped bulge under his sweatshirt.
<jacobkosh>: Ell, this is more or less the read you get as well. Pitch is a bit annoyed at constantly dealing with new people but he doesn’t look like he’s going to freak out or anything.
<ell>: Aurelia shrugs. “We’re just new in town, getting the grand tour”
<jacobkosh>: “Montesquieu,” your companion says, proffering a hand. “These are apprentices, here by the request of the Hierarch. There’s nothing to worry about. The Consilium appreciates the service you provide. And on that note…” he removes a manila envelope from his jacket. “I’m told Forge spent a month on that trinket. I hope it satisfies.”
<jacobkosh>: Pitch takes it, opens the envelope, and nods. “It’s good, man. Just what my client asked for.” He calls back over his shoulder. “Dolph, you wanna bring those cases up?”
<sinon>: (Where’s Dolph? Wits+??)
<jacobkosh>: (go for it!)
<desc>: Elithora is clearly more used to typing purchase orders for magical needs and is watching pensively.
<sinon>: (Just rying to figure out what a good ?? would be. Streetwise again since this is a meet?)
<jacobkosh>: (yeah, that works)
<sinon>: 6d10h8
<critical>: Sinon, 6d10h8: 3 [6d10h8=[10,9],9,1,2,5,3]
<jacobkosh>: Sinon notices that he can’t see Dolph’s feet behind the VW bus.
<jacobkosh>: You saw him all of thirty seconds ago, and heard him rummaging around, but now..?
<jacobkosh>: Pitch notices your attention and turns around. “Dolph,…? Yo!”
<sinon>: Sinon was raising his finger to his lips to signal for quiet… “Damn it!”
<jacobkosh>: Pitch runs around the side of the bus. “What the fuck…?! What’s going on here?!” He looks at Montesquieu and you accusingly. “It’s all gone! All of it!”
<jacobkosh>: and THAT
<jacobkosh>: is where I have to leave it for tonight

Session 1 Log

At the Edge of All Things jacobkosh