Tundric Empire IC

[IamL]

Law is a strange creature.
It was borne from the need to survive, created as a consequence of communication. It stands as order, routine, and rule. Though it does not always take the same form. Sometimes it is good, sometimes bad, sometimes neither. Sometimes it is autocratic, sometimes democratic, sometimes neither, sometimes something in between. And none of these things are exclusive, either. None.
You live in the cold, Northern wasteland of Guol, a sparse place with very little to survive on. Yet it has become one of the most successful empires the world has ever seen: adversity breeds success. The monarchy is all-pervasive and all-powerful. The King, whose name only he and his family knows, is secretive. And this is not necessarily a bad thing; in fact, until recently, the system has worked quite well. The King was a perfect blend of cunning, forthrightness, kindness, generosity, and pragmatism, which one would expect from a lord of a wasteland. But this has not been so for the past four years. He has enroached upon your personal freedoms and rights, and has killed many innocents in the name of justice.
And it is time for this to stop. You sit in the Three Rams Tavern, a hub of information, and, unbeknownst to many, the headquarters for a budding resistance movement.

[taurosking]

Vashta sits at the bar, halfway through his 3rd drink of the night. he has been hit hard by the deaths in his large in the past few years. it started when his mother was executed by the Kings men for "treasonous actions," but they refused to state what those actions were. Then his fathers combination of deppression, shame, and alchoholism led to his death in a nasty fight with the authorities over a public intoxication charge. Now parentless and trying to support himself he has fallen on hard times and is running out of money. He looks up from his drink and sees the extremely beautiful bartender walking up with another beer. perception roll [roll0] to determine what he sees. will modify the post with DM's Input

[Kul AlDun]

Garik sat alone at a table in the back corner of the tavern the hood of his cloak drawn over his head. He seemed to glower into his mug of ale while tracing a finger along the cracked wood of the table top. He was deep in thought concerning his vendetta against the Empire. He had never ventured this far outside his home valley, however rumours of rebellion had spured him out in search of the resistance. He looked up from his drink to take in the scene around him.

Perception [roll0]

[Samshiir]

Atorian Silverspear pulled his cloak tight around him to help ward off the cold. It was warm in the tavern, at least compared to outside, but it was not the climate that Atorian was used to. Atorian grew up in a city far to the south with his parents and sister, but had lived up in these frigid wastes for the last several years to get out into the world on his own.

He hated how cold this place was. He hated the monotony and dullness of human civilization. He hated the corruption so evident in the local political structure...Though to be fair, he hated politics when he was in the city, too. Perhaps it was everything that he hated about this place that was such a relief to him. For example, he wasn't in the city with officials always telling him what to do and what not to do. On the other hand, this place was a wasteland, and life was very hard. He missed the city so much...

Atorian shook his head to clear his mind from that train of thought. It didn't matter what he thought of this place, because he was here regardless. Thinking about the city wouldn't get him back there anytime sooner.

Atorian ate from his meal by himself at a table in the middle of the tavern, casually listening to the conversations that filled the room.

Perception check: [roll0] But apparently gets lost in his own thoughts again.

[IamL]

The bartender, well-known for her tendency to sleep around, but known by those closer to her as a master thief and resistance ringleader, sidles over to your table. Her curly blonde hair is slightly longer than shoulder length, and is put up in a ponytail as she works. Her body is slender and bodacious, her breasts and hips flaring out from her slim waist. She gives another drink to each of you.
You find a token in your drink, reading "midnight in the back room." The tavern is built haphazardly, three stories tall. The first floor is the tavern part, and the upper two floors house a total of one and a half dozen rooms. The tavern is wide and low, ceiling about six and a half feet high. The tavern is brimming with people now, but it usually clears out soon.
A few drops if brandy from the gnomes seated behind you catch you in the eye and you see nothing.

[taurosking]

Vashta pulls the token out of his drink and looks at it curiously. After reading the words on the token he places it into his pocket and settles down to wait for midnight. Fortitude check for Intoxication: [roll0] this roll is for role playing purposes. Normally Vashta will not touch alcohol after what happened to his father, but today is the anniversary of his mothers death and he is particularly depressed.

[Kul AlDun]

Ggarik eyed the token curiously as he drew it from his mug. As he read the words his eyes seemed lose their dullness and take on a new light. He fist tightened around the token as he looked up with keen eyes, casting a wary glance around the tavern. It seemed to him he might have finally found the resistance at last. Pocketing the token he would wait until the appointed time before making his way to the backroom.

[Samshiir]

Atorian watched as the bartender flounced around the room. For a resistence leader, she wasn't very good at keeping a low profile...not that Atorian minded. He thanked her for the drink, and continued on with his night.

[IamL]

****. Sorry, guys. I made a derp and forgot to post a while ago and thought I did. Was waiting for the rest of you. Got buried in schoolwork. If you're all still here, I'd like to carry on.
The bar thins out, then you see a few people move to the back room, along with the bartender, Resi.
Assuming you move into the back room at midnight, you see a haphazard room cluttered with all kinds of tomes, bottles, ingredients, and hastily jotted-down notes, reminders, and fragments of plans. A dozen people gather in the room, and Resi, the bartender, closes the door. She speaks softly, but powerfully.
"As you may know, we are in dire straits. The monarchy has been trodding over us like we are but cattle. And it is time to stop. I would like to thank you all for being here today, and taking the risk to start a resistance movement. But first, we need to make introductions, and evaluate strengths and weaknesses. The resistance will be organized in three-to-five man squads based on particular skills and abilities, and we need to sort each one out. Let's start with you and go clockwise."
She points to Vashta.

[taurosking]

My name is Vashta. I know a small amount of healing magic, and can usually hold my own in a fight.

[IamL]

Resi nods. "And you?" she points to Ggarik.