A mind palace.  That was what Brother Loke had called it.  A mental state where the outside distractions faded to nothingness and all that was left was thought and introspection.  Grobbik had intended only to think of his own abilities as the professor had instructed him.  His obvious deficiencies in the magic he was casting had been the purpose of this exercise but somehow his mind had strayed, as it always did, to what had been his small group of friends at the college.  It had been just over a year since the group had assembled and seemed inseparable when faced against the Templar brothers, though there had been few real tests to their friendship beyond simple bickering.  Then the imp had come.

It was summoned accidentally during a class on ritual magic.  A darkness spell had gone wrong and before it had been ended the small imp lay crouched in the middle of their circle.  Though it had only injured one student and it had made no lasting effects, the punishment on Giles, who had been blamed for the incident, was severe.  Besides the extra work and detentions, he had been essentially warned that he would be expelled after one further incident - which came not long after.  After Giles had been expelled it wasn't long before Elliott was moved from the Hall of Soldiers to the Hall of Bishops presumably due to some donation by his family.  Elliott and Mariana started having issues almost immediately after.  They had been the two closest friends of the whole group but the move had gotten them off kilter.  They whispered quiet arguments during the occasions where they did speak with both of them agitated, Mariana usually more so.  It would only be later in the hall where Mariana would vent her frustrations quietly to the others: that Elliott was being an ass, that he cared more about perception than friendship, that he wanted to be the monk's goody two shoes despite the fact that he could barely catch fire to a cotton puff.  But then even that stopped.  Mariana one day just stopped being herself, she never stopped by their rooms anymore, In the few classes that she shared with others she was detached and silent.  She would avoid Elliott most of all and the few times they did meet each other usually ensued in shouting matches that would force bystanders to intervene.  Of course, that whole relationship culminated in theatrical violence.  The two cornered each other on the grounds at night and ended up in a duel that killed Mariana.  Though Grobbik had not been there, the rumored accounts of the handful of bystanders had been fantastical and grotesque, he had heard of Mariana enveloped in flames like a human torch and of the small pile of ash that had been the only thing left of her.  Somehow Elliott had escaped the worst punishments - when the story finally spread to the brothers he had been reprimanded for dueling and not for murder an odd reverse of the normal strict justice for minimal or imagined wrongdoing.  The whole event had obviously shaken him in retrospect however for Elliott had become darkened and broody since the event.  The whole situation seemed fictitious to Grobbik though the result was certainly real: he had lost another friend.

Though the rest of the small group still remained Grobbik had found himself drawn away, partly because of his limitations in magic.  His particular skills meant that he spent most of his time learning from Brother Loke, who was the professor of water magic at the college.  It seemed that the rest of the students avoided Loke whenever possible, especially Judoc, who had never entirely forgotten the embarrassment of his first day by the lake.  Indrid had always been sort of an ass so though they still roomed together, the diminishment of the other half of their mates meant his priggishness was all the more evident.
This message was last updated by the GM at 03:58, Tue 01 May 2018.

"Well"  Grobbik snaps open his eyes.  The exercise had been successful in one thing certainly, his environment had evaporated away entirely for a small while.  He had nearly forgotten that he was sitting in the classroom in small chair across from Brother Loke, attempting to find why he was so unable to conduct any magic other than that of water and ice.  "Usually blocks of these sort are self made".  Loke continues, "The mind reacts to some unnatural event or fear by creating limitations to block itself from creating the same fear.  When I was examining your aura I saw a certain possibility of expanding your abilities, though it won't be quite as easy as just believing you can do it." Loke glances upward and wafts his open hand upward lazily to exaggerate the word.  "There are potions that would help you to discovering new abilities - I believe I may even have most of the ingredients for one of them, but it would take time, and I would expect you to gather the remaining ingredient, which may prove to be more difficult than the rest of the endeavor all together."  Loke considers his words for a minute before continuing.  "Yes I think this may work.  If you are interested, I can start the potion quickly while you go gathering, you should have plenty of time, I'll have to mature the potion for at least three weeks before I'm ready to move on to the last stages."

"I suppose you are wondering what you would need to collect?"  Loke continues after a moment, looking at Grobbik with a half smile on his lips.  "It is simple enough, though rather difficult to find.  Do not worry, it is not dragons blood or anything as dangerous as that, I have enough of that to get along with.  What I would need is simply a magic item of most any sort to touch to the potion in its final stages.  After that it would be ready to drink.  Well, do you want me to start the process?"

OOC:  This thread is for Grobbik Feezle only

Grobbik sighs to himself.  So much turmoil at the school.  It was a competitive environment, to be sure.  And many of the kids learning magic were young in one way or another.  Surely he was, in experience and worldliness, if not in age.  Sailing had opened his eyes perhaps better than some, but none of them were really ready to be out in the world yet.  Add magic into that environment, and the results were bound to be volatile.  No adult would give a child a sword until they were ready to handle it, but many at the school had discovered their gifts before they were ready.  But then again, life never worked out smoothly anyway.  Who was really ready when challenges were thrown at them?  The real test of a goblin was rising to the occasion, like any human would.

When Grobbik looks up from his introspection, there is Brother Loke.  Grobbik did want to grow his abilities, but after all the turmoil and loss he was a bit anxious at the mention of a potion and magical items.  Still, he was curious, and couldn't help but follow up with his teacher.

"Well, yes, and no.  Wait.  Yes.  I have seen what failed spells can do, after the attack of the demon.  But even with that in mind, knowing I should be cautious, I just have to know what you have in mind.  Yes, let's do it.  "

Brother Loke nods at Grobbik's response, seemingly encouraged by his hesitant acceptance.  "Good.  It is good to have caution when dealing with the unknown.  However, take confidence in the fact that a single mage working his magic will always be more capable than any group - as I told you in the class from which the demon sprung, not to mention I consider myself slightly more capable than Andros Wilmer."  Brother Loke stands up, stretching his legs and walking halfway around the chair he had been sitting in before he turns and addresses Grobbik again.

"Now finding our item may prove tricky.  Though the monks here are quite capable, many of us have taken vows of poverty that would preclude us from owning the very items which you seek but I can think of at least one example.  Baron Graves has a necklace that he has taken to wearing that I know to be magical and it will serve this purpose exceedingly well.  Fear not, the thing will not be destroyed in the use, and we will be able to give it back as soon as it meets our purposes."  Loke pauses for a moment, thinking on the matter.  "Still, I think that perhaps just asking for it may bring much more trouble upon you than if you neglect to mention that you are borrowing it, the Baron is not often the sharing type..."

Grobbik follow what his teacher says, but stealing from the Provost of the college was a very risky thing, and not to be undertaken lightly.  The goblin became suspicious at the suggestion, and so of course he had to say something about it immediately.

"What does this necklace do, Brother Loke?  Perhaps it is powerful if the Provost of the college wears it.  I don't know that I can just steal something like that for you, without knowledge of what it does, trusting that you will use it for only it's intended purpose.  The students in this place maneuver for favor and recognition enough.  I can only imagine what it must look like among the teachers.  I would be exposing myself to severe punishment up to and including death depending on what exactly I would have gotten myself into.  You are asking much of me.  While I do trust you as my primary professor here, I am not privy to the politics here.  What's in this for me if I get caught?  And what proof do I have that you are making this request in good faith?  Perhaps we can negotiate a contract that we could put in writing to assure me at least some level of safety?"

Loke smiles slightly at Grobbik's prodding, though it seems fairly evident that it is not an entirely natural expression.  While it does not quite sour into a sneer, Grobbik could be easily convinced that the thoughts behind it are patronizing rather than kindly.

"I think perhaps you give our provost too much credit.  He is not landed, and has yet to earn the wealth that he desires so plainly.  Still, he has more of it than the vast majority of his staff, as is evident by the fact that this necklace is one of the few pieces that I know to be magical.  I cannot tell you what it does because I do not really know myself, I can guarantee to you however, that I have no intent whatsoever of using it for any purpose."

Loke pauses a moment, putting his hands on the chair back in front of him.

"Your concern for the interpretation of your actions is not misplaced, though to be fair, I have not suggested stealing the necklace, only borrowing it for enough time to serve your uses before returning it to its rightful owner.  Still, how that act may be perceived could be an issues...  For example, being caught in the Provost's chambers would likely earn detentions, being seen touching the gems likely a thorough interrogation...  Being caught with them on your person would be dicey, though death is an absurd conclusion to jump to.  Expulsion may be an option, though I doubt sincerely that it would come to that."  Loke pauses slightly on Grobbik's last words.  "I do not think a contract is possible, though if you wish, I can ask the Provost on my own to borrow the item - I think it a fool's errand though, the man is selfish and often obtuse when it comes to serving any purposes but his own.  Conversely if you do not wish to take the risk it is no concern of mine and I am happy to continue your instruction in the magic of water."

Grobbik thinks about the information Brother Loke has supplied him with for perhaps a minute.  He has a lot to think about, because of the potentially illegality of the request, and then also because of the political ramifications.  After a couple minutes he finally asks a couple questions of Brother Loke.

"I have a few questions.

If any magical item would work, why couldn't we use any old run-of-the mill power stone?  Does it have to be that specific item, or is that just the most convenient one you know of.  I ask because my family might know of something that we might be able to use.  My father is very well traveled and knows a lot of people, as does my mother.

Another question...  Perhaps we could write up a contract with the provost.  If all you need is 5 minutes of access I'm sure I could write up something that would be appropriate.  I would be glad to offer my services, depending on what he feels might be appropriate.  If we can find a way to do it that wouldn't get me expelled or worse, i would prefer that option.  I'm not above stealing or borrowing the necklace if that becomes necessary, but I have my livelihood and my reputation to think of here.  There are long term goals I need to consider, and staying on good terms with the college is preferred.

Finally, how difficult are you expecting this to be?  I mean, does he keep his door unlocked while he travels the countryside at predictable times?  Or are we talking 6 guards at all the exits with crossbows and battleaxes.  And by that I don't mean their wives.  There could be magical protections as well, which I wouldn't see given my current limitations with magic.  I don't have much skill at thievery, so you'd have to explain to me what I'm supposed to do if push comes to shove. "

"Yes,"  Brother Loke starts.  "Good question.  I do not know if a powerstone would be strong enough for the base of the potion - it is possible, but my suspicion is that it is not.  I suppose I would be willing to try if you found a common powerstone, but be warned, I do not have enough ingredients to make a second attempt, and there is no doubt in my mind that if the object does not have strong enough magic power than the whole of the potion will be ruined.  I do not think that it has to be any specific item, and if you think that your father could be counted on to provide an enchanted artifact that will suffice, you are welcome to pursue that route.  However, I can guarantee that the necklace we are talking about will fulfill the needs of the potion, which is why it comes to mind."

"If you believe that your best chance of procuring the gems is by reasoned argument with the provost, I assure you that you are deceived.  However, I will not discourage you from that route if your sensibilities deem it most appropriate.  Certainly if you ask and are turned down, you will stay on good terms in the college - but I think it will be that much harder if you attempt to acquire it through other means."

"As for the difficulty of this task, I can only guess.  Certainly, convincing him to part with it, even for a short while, will be nigh impossible.  But I think depending on how you assault the task, you may find it within a certain possibility.  I can help you with certain precautions if you would require it.  I expect that he would lock his doors, though there is no additional security in the way of magic, it is against the rules of our college to cast permanent enchantments on anything which resides here, and besides, I imagine it would be beyond his capabilities even if he should want it.  The Provost has always been mostly accomplished in flashes and show when it comes to his magic..."

Grobbik nods as Brother Loke talks through all of his points.  In response, he asks "Why can't the Provost be present during the procedure, to safeguard his property?  I don't know if you work together with your fellow mages or not, but this is an institution of learning after all.  I get the sense that it is competitive and secretive, but maybe quid-pro-quo on some learning topics might be worth the time and effort among the professors.  Do you think that might be viable?"

Brother Loke smiles at Grobbik's question though it is hard to discern much beyond the iron mask of his expressions.  "Grobbik, I will not attempt to dissuade you from the path you feel is best.  I will tell you that I think tempting the fates with a common powerstone would be foolish - but aside from that, you must determine your own path.  If you wish to try and encourage the Provost to submit his treasure than so be it - perhaps your efforts will surprise me with their outcome.  However, do not be confused.  This is an institution of learning only - we do not dabble in research of the magical arts, only the instruction of youth.  Most of the Brothers here have taken vows that would prevent their owning objects that would even be fit to be enchanged to serve our purposes.  We do not have an enchanting college here because the practice is too slow to be of much use in warfare.  Whatever your plans for the provost may be, I would encourage you to weigh the cost of failure.  But the choice as to what course you must take is yours."

AS much as Grobbik wants to try and reason through the situation that has been put in front of him, it isn't meant to be.  He feels a debt to Brother Loke, considering the professor has been responsible for basically all of his training.  Plus, his teacher had shown a willingness to try and overcome what seems like a mental block on Grobbik's part.  And, ultimately, he was curious what exactly Brother Loke had in mind.  Grobbik had many conflicting impulses when it came to the situation, but in the end it came down to an acceptance that Brother Loke had faith in no other way...

"OK, I give up.  What do I have to do?"

OOC I tried to play the negotiation to the point where it would get annoying but not overbearing.  I figure the point has been made, and I'm ready to move on.

As Grobbik asks for instruction, Brother Loke laughs abruptly.  "I have told you what is needed, acquire the necklace and I can help you.  If you are looking on instruction on how to take it, I'm sure I have no idea.  I can tell you that the Provost normally leaves his doors open so that the professors can reach him if needed.  I won't suggest how to get it, though your best option will certainly be to investigate first.  You have plenty of time for the potion to get ready so there is no need to rush."

OOC:  Sorry, post is a little rushed to try and get something up and moving - I want to give you options to get ready, but Loke won't instruct you on how to steal the necklace.  That being said, I'll give you an opportunity to roll against observation to try and glean information about the job.  If you want to continue the conversation with Loke, feel free to, otherwise I can move forward to you gathering information on your own.

In a resigned tone of voice, Grobbik responds "Yes, Brother", before he takes his leave and begins planning the necessary steps.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:48, Tue 19 July 2016.

It was a matter of about a week for Grobbik to even start coming to terms with the prospect of taking the necklace.  He was no thief, nor did he have the necessary skills to start imitating them.  Still, he was smart enough to study the lay of the land without attracting too much attention.  Honest with his lack of skill with following, he instead take the long route, though it chafes his sense of adventure, at some points openly studying in a hallway nook, other times concealing himself in the shadows by the Provost's Office.  Over several days, Grobbik managed to find the provost's quarters (truth be told he had never thought about them much) but had also fairly well learned his schedule.  Up somewhere around 6AM, he would ready himself for the day and make the unchanging route to his office, where he would spend at least an hour, though after that things became a bit more random.  Perhaps he would spend the whole day in his office, or perhaps he would scuttle about the College, meeting with the brothers or local authorities or nobles who came to call.  Given that Grobbik had his own responsibilities during the day, his information was often incomplete, though Grobbik's impression was that the Baron's schedule was highly fickle through the daytime hours.  Likewise, the hour he returned to his chambers was not fixed, though he was certain of one thing.  Once the Provost was in his rooms he did not leave but stayed there the entire night until he started his cycle again the next morning.

It was not much to go on, but at least it was a start.  On top of that, he had gleaned something of the security...  The Office did not seem to be locked at any point during the day or night, though his chambers seemed to be locked at all times, Grobbik having tried them both at night after the Baron slept as well as during the day while he was out.  Schedule and accessibility would have to be a sizable portion of his plan.  Despite his best efforts though, Grobbik had yet to lay his eyes on the necklace itself.

It was late on a school night when Grobbik returned to his bed in the Hall of Soldiers, tired though hopeful in the prospects of his mission.  It seemed as much as ever that the roomates had drifted apart, with both Judoc and Indrid sleeping soundly, neither having wasted the thought or sleep to wonder where their roommate was spending his time.  Though when he settles down onto his bed to remove his shoes, he notices something different at his desk, a scrap of paper, and a small key that is not his...

This may help you in your pursuits.  Grobbik has barely finished a sentence before he can start to smell the note smolder and he sees a wisp of smoke curl up from a single corner.  It seems you would come to the same conclusions based on the late hour of your endeavors tonight, but now may be around the right time of day to make your move lest he wear the object during the day...  The potion is almost ready"

By the time he has finished reading, the flames are already engulfing the small note, and as he lets if fall out of his hands, the fire reduces it to ash, floating a few feet away from his bed...  Luckily it seemed no one in his room had seen the small blink of fire.

OOC:  Sorry for the lag, though hopefully all the busyness has died down at this point and we should be able to continue as you are ready.  Don't feel you have to respond directly to this post, it is more of a status update than anything else.  You've about exhausted your skill of making obvious notes without putting yourself in a compromising position.  You certainly can look to get more information, but it will likely entail either trying to A. Break into his office B. Break into his chambers or C. Engage the provost in some sort of conversation.  Any of those will need to be roleplayed.  Feel free to jump to whatever point you feel may be necessary if you want to take any of those actions.  Conversely, if you feel that there is something that you likely would have learned that I haven't covered you can ask it in OOC at any point.  Let me know where you want to go from here and we can move forward at your convenience.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:04, Tue 02 Aug 2016.

As the ash slowly settles to the floor, Grobbik considers his options.  None of them look great to him.  It seemed like the best way to approach this would be to get some sort of position that might allow him access to the Provost's quarters or office.  Quietly Grobbik decides he will ask Brother Loke for an excuse to enter the office, so he can see what it looks like and get familiar with the layout.  He couldn't just walk in on his own, but if he could get into the office he might be able to spy the amulet in question.  Perhaps he might even have an opportunity while he was there...

Though he knows he must take action soon, Grobbik decides to take the slow path towards the necklace.  He pockets the small key, imagining it will have use later but decides his best option will be to attempt to make his way into the Provosts offices on somewhat legitimate purposes.

---

The conversation had been short, and perhaps near disastrous on Grobbik's part... he had come to Brother Loke asking for a reason to go to the Provost's office, and the look on the brother's face had prompted Grobbik to add 'perhaps to deliver documets'.  Loke's smile had grown slightly as if reading Grobbik's mind but he agreed, and scrawled a few lines on a scroll before sealing it and sending it off with Grobbik with the instruction to take it to the provost's office.  The walk is not long, and over the past fortnight, he has found well enough how to make his way there.  Unsure of the exact protocol, Grobbik stops at the closed door of the office and knocks.  "Come in!"  A smooth baritone beckons from within.

Grobbik feels a strong bout of anxiety as he approaches Brother Loke with his plan.  Showing his face in the office was very risky, because it would immediately make him a suspect if something were to happen.  However, it was the best plan he could come up with, and he wanted to see the object of his search before risking it's theft.  He was no thief, so Grobbik didn't really know how best to approach this.  It was his best guess after being uneducated on the topic.

As Brother Loke discussed the plan with him, Grobbik was surprised to realize that the original plan included his discipline.  Goblins were well accepted in the broader human society, but pockets of discrimination still existed.  It made sense to send a goblin in for discipline even if he hadn't done anything.  The cover story was probably better than what he had suggested, but since he showed some initiative Brother Loke seemed to accept his suggestion.  To be honest the whole discussion was a bit nerve-wracking, since he was already anxious about the heist, and then had the possibility of discipline on top of things.

After composing himself, and thinking about how to do the whole delivery as innocently as possible, Grobbik approaches the office.  Even though he didn't have any experience with acting or lying, his experience with weapons and spells taught him that he performed best when calm.  He tried to relax as much as possible before knocking on the door.  When he was told to enter, Grobbik pushes it open in what he hopes is a nonchalant fashion, on his way to entering the room.

Grobbik pushes open the door to the administrative offices and walks beyond into a room he has only glimpsed for moments at a time from the outside.  The door he just entered lays on the south wall near the west corner.  It spans about five paces deep by ten or twelve paces wide.  The west half of the room seems to be dedicated to a sort of waiting area - various items decorate the walls.  Immediately in front of Grobbik there was a shoulder-wide painting of the college castle, its white towers dominating the cliffs even as they themselves rose like unruly scrub out of the oceans.  To his left side, it seemed the wall was dominated by an enormous charter in aging script dated to 1652 and giving the rights and authorization to construct and operate a Templar College.  Behind him and to the right there was a large couch, functional and Spartan though it certainly looked more comfortable than the seats that the students occupied in their classrooms.

The other half of the room was dominated almost entirely by a monstrous desk, the widest section of two perpendicular work surfaces carried only a ledger, nearly three feet deep and half again as wide composed into orderly grids with various scripts and scribbling in each block.  The other half carried a host of scrolls, loose paper and books, an inkwell and various tools for edging and graphing.  Sitting there, making notes on the ledger was an aging man, likely even older than Brother Loke, though his whitened hair and the edges of wrinkles seem not to diminish an impression of crisp attentiveness and acuity.  Behind the man, on the north and east wall are shelves that are built floor to ceiling and house an assortment of leather tomes, scrolls, and books, neatly arranged.  On the back wall near the middle of the room is a single oaken door which hangs slightly open.  Just higher than eyelevel is a plaque which reads Baron Edgar Graves, Provost.

From behind the desk, Brother Hiliath looks up from his notes, accounting for Grobbik in a few moment's glance.  His eyes fall on the wrapped and sealed parchment in Grobbik's hand as he pre-empts Grobbik's explanation with a single worded question, "Yes?"

Grobbik tried to put on an anxious face, but it wasn't that hard to fake since he really did have butterflies in his stomach. He had expected something more of a greeting, so he also found himself started at the lack of engagement. Given the bureaucracy required to run a college like this, maybe he shouldn't be surprised. After all, he was a goblin.  While he wasn't a second class citizen, he wasn't exactly what the commoners looked up to either.  Quietly he sighed to himself.  Then, he tried to look remourseful, while he quietly handed over the parchment in his hand for Brother Hilath's examination.

Brother Hilath grabs the scroll lightly, looking at the seal before laying it back down on the table.  "I'll assume it is for the provost?"  He asks, refraining from breaking the seal as he sits back.  "I can take it if you wish.  There's no need to bother him if you'd rather avoid it."

Grobbik winces inwardly, but grudgingly admits this could be the break he was looking for.   He tries to let a little of his fear show as he shakes his head and responds "I should do it."  He hopes that comes across as convincing, since he was just as reluctant to go in his heart as the words insinuated. He had different reasons of course, but Brother Hilath needn't know that.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:05, Sat 22 Apr 2017.

Brother Hilath nods, handing the scroll back to Grobbik.  "He is in, knock first."

Grobbik nods in thanks, attempting to make the apprehension he felt for getting caught appear to be the genuine apprehension of a student visiting the provost.  It seems to work well enough, for the brother immediately goes back to his ledger and pen, finding his last markings as he goes into scrawling a few more lines.

Grobbik knocks at the door twice, and is answered near immediately with the provost's voice.  "Come in."

Grobbik pushes his way through the door into the office, a place that seems to be entirely formed on self indulgence.  Much like the office without, the furniture is built off of function with a small bookshelf in a corner that is stacked with a variety of leather bound tomes and books that look varied in age and wear.  The Provost's desk is large and rectangular with a few chairs in front of it, creating a barrier that goes most of the width of the room.  However, the details of the office are all focused on the man that sits the desk.  High on the wall behind him hangs a ten foot tapestry woven with exceedingly rich color and excruciating detail.  The tapestry depicts the Provost, armored, sword in one hand and helm cradled in the other as he stands in front of the Templar coat of arms.  On the adjacent wall, an oil painting is displayed, life sized of the Baron from the waist up, holding the knight's cross.  Beside that is another document, difficult to discern from this distance, though Grobbik recognizes the coat of arms of Emperor Diophrates adorning the bottom right by the signature.

Behind the desk sits the provost for one of the few times Grobbik has seen him the man is not wearing his armor but instead a richly woven doublet that opens at the collar.  His armor rests behind him, supported by a stand that almost makes the suit look to be a headless guard standing behind him in defense.  Though the provost is pouring over what looks to be a letter he looks up quickly as he sees Grobbik walking in the room.

"What is it?"  The provost says, much like his assistant he gets straight to the point.

OOC:  Roll vs. Perception.

Grobbik was nervous as he stood at the desk with brother Hylath.  He wasn't sure that he was acting convincingly.  This sort of improvisation wasn't really his experience, so Grobbik wasn't confident in his ability to pull this off. He was a sailor, not an actor. That showed in the fear and anxiety he was dealing with internally.

As it looked like his ploy was coming off, Grobbik started to relax some. Unfortunately, stressful situations like this tended to bring out his more compulsive side. During finals week Grobbik would often feel the need to chean his room from top to bottom. A clean and orderly area was a reflection of a clean and orderly mind. Unfortunately, the receptionist's area was terribly cluttered, with papers strewn everywhere across the desk. To the normal person, this was obviously the sign of someone who was very busy. However, to a goblin who has sometimes had moments of rigidity,  it tied directly into his need to order things.  It was his best coping skill, although in moments like this his fingers twitched subtly as he envisioned himself placing the papers into neat piles by date and time.

Thankfully, the secretary admitted Grobbik before he could really start obsessing about the contents of the desk. He responded meekly with a brief "Thank you" before he knocked twice, and entered the Provost's office.

If Grobbik was frightened before, seeing the Provost's office didn't make his anxiety any easier. Here was a man with custom wall weavings of him in his spotless armor. As the head of a wizard's school, he had to be an imposing man with enormous capabilities. This wasn't a man to be trifled with, as the oil painting on the wall indicated. He was likely to be perceptive and politically savvy. This wasn't a place where he could take chances.

When the Provost looks up from his paper, Grobbik swallows audibly, and then steps forward respectfully. His heart is in his throat as he extends the eocument to the provost

As Grobbik extends the small scroll to the provost, the man takes it and cracks open the seal.  In the moments that he is reading, Grobbik has just a moment to continue his search around the room.

It seems that there are few places to put something like the necklace, the desk itself was quite possible, Grobbik assumed that there were drawers on the other side that could easily hide the item he was looking for.  However, the bookshelf certainly did not hold it and there was little else in the room that was worth searching unless it was behind one of the wall hangings.

"Tsk."  Graves scoffs after only a few seconds of reading.  "Loke is a fucking madman."

Grobbik looks back at the provost, catching the glimmer of a gold chain hanging about the side of his neck.

Graves crumples the paper up and lets it land on the desk, looking up at Grobbik.  "I have enough problems staffing the Legions and the Templars without arbitrarily punishing students on his whim.  Consider yourself thoroughly chastised and please consider not tempting his retribution in the future.  Loke has more sway here than I care to admit."

And there it was. For a normal person it was in and out, the look into the office all done.  No punishment was actually required. Unfortunately, Grobbik wasn't an ordinary person. He was a goblin, yes, but that wasn't it either. In this case, it was because he was impulsive, and not really built for cloak and dagger work. At least, not yet, at this young age. Before he knew it, the words were out, and he couldn't take them back.

"I put him up to that, sir. I'm not really in trouble. May I please have a minute to explain?"

Graves looks at Grobbik for several moments, taking in the words that he is saying as he deliberates a response as he leans forward in his chair.  He folds his hands, putting them palm down against the desk as he stares deliberately into Grobbik's eyes.

"Explain."  He says simply.

Grobbik wastes no time when the Provost agrees to hear him out.  All the emotional weight drains out of him since he didn't have to try and keep a secret anymore.  He stands erect, out of respect for hi present company, but can't stop wringing his hands by his chest (in a nervous way) as he speaks.

"Sir, I know your time is very important, you have a college to run.  I will be short and concise.  Thank you for the opportunity."

"During my formative years, I experienced a horrendous explosion that caused great loss in my home.  Since then I have been terrified of fire.  My condition has expressed itself in my ability to bend mana.  Brother Loke will tell you I have immense potential with water spells, but I am completely unable to cast anything else. In other words, I am instinctively protecting myself from fire via my magical ability."

"Brother Loke believes I may be able to overcome this limitation with his help.  He has agreed to create a potion which will create what he described as a "mind palace".  He believes this concoction will allow me to gain control of my magical aptitude, and branch out into different schools of magic."

"As a young and enthusiastic goblin, I was eager to defeat this barrier.  My friends have all progressed past me because of this limitation.  Unfortunately, a magical item is required to properly cure the potion, and I have none available.  My father holds some renown as a merchant, but he was not available to ask either.  The only magical piece that I know of which would work is the necklace that you possess."

"I confess to being a little desperate to grow past this...frustrating problem.  I want to live up to my father's expectations, and I don't want my peers to think that I got in to this school because of my father's money.  I have plotted and schemed at some length because I want so very badly to make this work.  At first I considered stealing your necklace, and then I considered borrowing it.  To be honest, I have been obsessed with this trinket for some time now."

"In the end, I couldn't figure out how to do this gracefully.  I could take being expelled to be done with this damn curse, but I won't dare risk injuring my friends, this school, or any innocents.  This isn't a battle, and I would be foolish to approach it that way."

"My father taught me that everything turns on your reputation.  He makes his living as a merchant, and without it he would be out of business.  However, I think that rule goes for everyone.  If you can't trust me, then you can't have me at your school.  It's as simple as that. "

"Brother Loke was right to send me here.  I do require discipline, and I will humbly acquiesce to whatever penance you feel is appropriate for my transgressions.  "

"Before you pass judgement, Sir Provost, may I please borrow your necklace for a short time?  I will be under Brother Loke's direct supervision if you are concerned with it's safety."

As Grobbik begins his story, it takes little time for the baron to sit back in his seat with an audible sigh, his arms resting down on the rests of his chair.  However, as Grobbik mentions the baron's necklace, the man sits up erratically, his eyes widening.  When Grobbik mentions the possibility of stealing it, it seems the baron stops paying attention entirely, his pupils darting this way and that in a flurry of activity.

"Who put you up to this?"  Graves spits as Grobbik finishes.  "Who told you of my necklace?  Was it Loke?  What the fuck is he after..."  Graves seems to be speaking more to himself now than to Grobbik at all, his attention sucked away from the surrounding space into the recesses of his mind.

"No, you may not have it."  Graves finishes moments later, still hardly paying any attention, his eyes tunneled into the empty space right in front of him.  "Get out, be gone."

Grobbik had not expected this response.  Perhaps that was naive of him, but he wanted to believe the best of people.  In his mind, he needed a tool to complete the process, and the necklace was a means to that end.  He didn't even really care what the necklace did, and didn't want to know.  That was the Provost's business, and no one else's.

When the Provost tells Grobbik to leave, he turns and takes a few steps towards the door.  Then he turns back and says:

"Sir, I don't know what that thing does, and I don't care to know.  It's none of my business.  I asked for your help because I believed you would help me.  My success means the success of the university in some small way.  Brother Loke did not put me up to anything.  There isn't an ulterior motive on my part.  I made the decision, and I regret offending you.  I will not speak of this to anyone. "

Grobbik anxiously withdraws from the room.

OOC: Stopped here in case the GM wants to respond in game somehow.  Grobbik intends to go straight back to Loke and warn him of the potential mistake.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:28, Tue 25 Apr 2017.

As Grobbik turns to explain himself, the provost stands quickly at his seat, his hands white-knuckled against his desk.  He looks about to scream, but he manages to stay silent and instead listens for the few moments that Grobbik continues talking.  Even as Grobbik turns and closes the door behind him, only silence ensues...

Unsure of the repercussions of his actions, Grobbik walks with intent and hasty steps across the castle to Brother Loke's office.  He knocks on the door as he cracks it open, hoping that Loke was within.

"Yes?"  Grobbik hears the monk's voice call from within.

OOC:  Sorry if this seems tedious, but I'd like to role play this part out as it may have repercussions (more likely for me than for you) later on down the line.  I see one other thing to tie up in this thread and that is: do you want to try and find some other magical item to use in the potion?  Judoc has a powerstone that he has already contemplated getting rid of that you might be able to convince him to borrow, or you can try and find some other avenue, or you can give up on it entirely.  All your choice.

Quickly Grobbik enters the room.  Undoubtedly the haste with which he enters betrays his anxiety.  If that doesn't, then his tone of voice does.  Or maybe it's his frenetic delivery.

"I asked him for his help, Brother Loke.  When I looked him in the eye I couldn't go through with it.  I couldn't try to steal from him.  I don't have any experience with that sort of thing.  I wouldn't have been able to pull it off.  I couldn't think of anything else to do, so I asked him for his help.  He got really mad, and told me to leave.  I made the choice so I took responsibility, but I fear that the worst has not come to pass. "

After the words rushed out, Grobbik stopped long enough to breathe.  His lips quivered as he finished speaking, and then he sat down in a chair, trembling slightly at the rush of emotions he was experiencing.  Fear, frustration, anger...  They were all jumbled up in a ball with his heightened anxiety.  Quietly he sat there, at a loss for what to do.

Loke quirks an eyebrow as Grobbik relays his simple story, repeating the phrase, "You asked him for help...  In a slow murmur under his breath.

However, by the end of the story, Loke seems to have waved off the whole thing.  "It is no matter to me but I did warn you about asking him outright.  I suppose there is nothing to do at this point...  The potion will be ready soon and things like this do not keep without all their ingredients.  You have perhaps two days to procure some magic item to serve your purpose, otherwise it will be useless.  Do let me know if you are successful, I would hate for it to go to waste.  Was there anything else?"

OOC:  Ok, so your option here, you can look to try other avenues to find your magic item to add to the potion or you can call it quits.  If you want to persue other avenues, let me know where you want to try and I'll set things up.

Grobbik thinks for a moment. He doesn't have many options, but there could be some opportunity for him to be successful.

"Well, my dad travels, but if he happens to be accessable I might be able to borrow one from him. He is a merchant of some status. I should be able to find someone that knows where he is. "

"I sailed a few times with one of the local ships. I had some friends there. They might help me if I were to ask them. They very much appreciated me using my magic talents to swab the deck. "

"Do you know of anyone else with a magic item?  Maybe one of my peers?  Something like that?  Can it be literally anything magic?  And, is the potion destructive in any way? I might have enough money to buy a cheap powerstone to use. "
This message was last edited by the player at 15:02, Mon 01 May 2017.

Loke nods slightly, though he puts his attention back to the workings he has on his desk.  "No, the spell should not be destructive with any magic item of quality, though I have not tried it with a mere powerstone...  I know of no other items that may work for our purpose, but if you have the means, the place to look would be mage guild, the provost's puppet, which can be found easily enough in the town."

Grobbik nods when Brother Loke suggests going to the magic shop. "My father is a great merchant. I mean to follow in his footprints someday. The people at the Provost's Puppet should know of him. This exercise may give me the excuse I need to negotiate a job with them, if they will have me. I think that's an excellent idea. With your permission I will take my leave and go speak with them. "
This message was last edited by the player at 04:58, Tue 02 May 2017.

The remainder of that day Grobbik spends putting his things together, walking over to the city of Azer and applying for work at the mage's guild.  Unfortunately, it seems the organization needs little help, so Grobbik scours the city for the rest of the afternoon looking for some way to make a quick seventy farthings or so in order to purchase a powerstone to see if he can get this potion working...

Unfortunately, in the vast majority of the city it seems the story is the same.  Work is available, but getting the money in time is the biggest problem.  It seems that there are very few ways to get seventy farthings in less than a day.

Very few.  In fact, Grobbik only found one.  For the very next morning started the Emperor's feast day, which meant a great celebration in the city, the traditional pardoning of at least one criminal in the stockade and nearly a whole day of free bread and fights in the arena...  Seeing few other options in front of him, Grobbik registered to be one of the fighters.

And so, on the morning of the third of October Grobbik stands in a line of other fighters waiting their turn to do battle...  The rules have been explained to everyone in the crowds and are quite simple: to win you must incapacitate or force your foe to yield, last man standing receives all the earnings.  Striking a downed foe or one that has already yielded will forfeit all earnings.  In this particular series it seems, all fighters are volunteers and the Arena is more interested in spreading benevolence than death.

Eventually, It is Grobbik's turn.   Though the Goblin is expecting to walk up a ramp into the arena itself, he finds himself instead ushered to a small wooden platform.

Looking upward, Grobbik sees a narrow swath of sky through the empty shaft that raises up to the sands above.  Grobbik can already feel the chill air of fall settling on the island though he has several yards to be raised before he is in the open air.  From up above, Grobbik can hear the muffled voice of the announcer introducing the match.  Slowly, Grobbik begins to feel gears turning beneath him as his pedestal is slowly cranked upwards into the daylight.

"For our next match, the city of Azer presents to the Emperor Diophrates the twelth, our industry and competitiveness!  The best of our city, pitted in battle, committed to victory!  I present to you Bourgain Dugard, stable master of the Governor's stables!  Grobbik Feezle, master sailor and student wizard!

Grobbik's head pokes out from the underground, his pedestal nearly raised now to the point of the sands.  He shivers slightly with the cold of the air around, though his minimal armor is supplemented by a thick coat of wool it seems the warmth is still leeching out of him by the second.  Still, besides the weather, the crowd is packed in and seems little perturbed by the inconvenience.  About 10 yards away from him, Grobbik sizes up his opponent, a rather average looking man with a leather jacket, thick wool pants and carrying a spear.

"Brand Corair, Artisan Steelsmith!"  Grobbik is shocked as his neck darts to the left to see yet another man lifted from the sands, this one strong and lithe looking, wearing a leather helm and carrying a mace in his right hand.

"And Prova Cuttisgard, Master Merchant and guildsman!"  A fouth man is raised, again off to the left, this one wearing furs on his chest and waist, with a cloth cap atop his head and carrying a knife much like the ones that Grobbik holds.

"May the best and most industrious Azerian win!"  The announcer thunders through a magnified voice.  "The last one standing wins the purse, two gold marks!  And fight!"

OOC:  Sorry for the haste with the post, lot of background stuff that I've been working through and I wanted to get something up tonight.  I'll get a map up soon, but I don't want to suck up another hour or more making it tonight.  Consider each of you standing on the corner of a 10 yard square (where each of the edges is 10 yards).  The spear man is on your right side, the mace man directly across, and the one with the knife directly to your left.  I'm assuming you are carrying all of your possessions into the fight, so please post what you are carrying and in which hand at the start of the match.

What a day it had been.  Grobbik needed money for a power stone.  It was the only magic item he was likely to afford this late in the potion-making process.  If he had been thinking farther outside of the box, it would have occurred to him long before this.  Unfortunately the events of the moment always seemed to grab his attention.  And, the life of a student tended to be plenty busy without needing an external job.  Everything was provided, like room and board.  He didn't need to work to eat.

His first stop was the Mage's guild.  They had a magic shop there with magic items for sale.  With his experience as a merchant, Grobbik was confident he could get a job there.  His dad's name carried a lot of weight, and it should get him in the door.  From there his experience should be good enough.  True to his expectations, the lead wizard in the store sat down with him for an interview.  Grobbik's strategy was to show his bartering skills as they talked about the work, but the man sitting across the table from him didn't seem fazed by it.  In the end, Grobbik was confident he had made a good impression, but they weren't currently in need of anyone, and his class schedule didn't fit with whatever nominal needs they did have.  He was turned away on what felt like a positive note.

That only left the arena.  Grobbik needed money, and while becoming a gladiator was risky, it was also what he had trained for in school.  He hadn't spent all those hours learning his knives and accompanying spells for nothing.  It was a good opportunity to balance out his ability with the competition out there.  And, if he messed up he wasn't likely to get killed like he would in a regular battle.  In fact, this sort of thing should probably be an elective in the college.  He made a mental note to suggest this to Brother Loke when they next spoke.

As Grobbik was raised to the floor of the arena, he felt exhilarated by the chill wind that blew in his face.  The air swirled around him and caused the edges of his wool coat to twitch too and fro as he looked around from his perch.  When the first man appeared a short way away from him. Grobbik was confident he would be in good shape.  He didn't look that intimidating.  Then he was followed by 2 more combatants.

"Shit." he thought to himself.

Grobbik had quite the challenge in front of him.  As a goblin with knives he probably looked like easy prey to the rest of the fighters.  That could mean they would leave him to last, or it could mean they would get rid of him first.  He wasn't sure how it was going to go.  Thus, he decides that staying more or less in his place is a good idea as he prepares for the battle.

Grobbik's approach to the fight is measured, a step back to evaluate his competition.  As he readies his knife.  To his left, the man with the knife seems to be taking a similar approach: evaluating his competition before diving into combat.  To Grobbik's right, the man with the spear takes a similar approach, brandishing his spear in both hands as he takes a hesitant step forward towards the mace wielding man.

It is the last fighter, the one with the mace standing directly across from Grobbik, who is the only one who is spurred to immediate action.  Even as the call to fight is sounded he springs forward with huge, leaping steps, cutting across Grobbik's field of view to the right, towards the man with the spear.  Each man braces himself for the impending impact, the spear man taking a step back to be out of the way of the charge even as the mace wielder swings his weapon in a side arm swing instead of ramming his foe.

The impact hits with bone-shattering force as the leg contorts gruesomely.  Blood is thrown in all directions, speckling the sands of the arena like a robin's egg for yards in all directions.  With a savage scream, the man with the spear drops his weapon and falls to the sands, weeping a slow pool of blood that collects underneath his thigh.  And so the competitors were down to three...

OOC:  The spear wielder suffered a devastating blow to the left leg, and though he is still conscious, he is stunned, weaponless, and unable to stand and therefore effectively out of the fight.  Each of your two remaining foes are about 10 yards away from you, towards your left (knife) and right (mace), with the knife man facing you and the mace man facing towards the southeast.  Your roll for fast draw failed, so it took you one turn to ready your weapon in your left hand, and your ice dagger roll succeeded, so you will have a 3d ice dagger ready in your right hand at the beginning of the next turn.  Please give me two more rounds of action.

Battle Map

Grobbik wants to chuck his ice dagger at the mace wielder right away, since he looks dangerous.  However, he stops himself.  The other man may be a mage as well, since he was a member of the guild.  Instead of making the first move, Grobbik takes a step back and aims at him, so he can keep his eye on both parties as much as possible.

Realizing that one foe has already been taken out of this fight without his help, Grobbik continues to bide his time, holding his right hand aloft as the weapons of ice hover readily over his hand.

That simple act, however, seems to draw Grobbik some attention...

"Shit!"  Says the man to his left, and out of the corner of his eye, Grobbik can see the knife wielder breaking out into a full on sprint in his direction.  Likewise, the man with the mace, after ensuring his current opponent cannot get up, turns about and starts a jog in Grobbik's direction as well.

OOC:  Ok, only did one round that time as your magic gained some attention from the other two.  Both are moving in your direction.  You have 1 turn of aim on the mace wielder and you are facing northeast.

Battle Map

Grobbik hisses.  He didn't want to be noticed as a target this early.  Just a small little goblin, nothing to see here...  But they noticed he could do magic.  Note to himself, don't show your hand so early the next time.

Stepping backwards and to the right, Grobbik aims at the mace wielder while tracking the other man as much as possible.  He addresses the man running at him with "If you want to die Prova, by all means..."

For all his caution at the beginning of the match things are unwinding quickly on poor Grobbik, who sees both of his foes descending quickly upon him.  Unwilling to find himself on the wrong end of a two on one match, Grobbik lets his spell fly, sending the razor shards of ice flying out directly towards the mace wielder.  Though his aim is true, the man manages to dive out of the way, landing on his face and forearms.

Though he steps hurriedly away from his other foe and taunts him with threats, Prova is upon him in a mere moment, slashing wildly with his knife!  Grobbik misjudges the swing awfully and as he steps back, catches his heel on uneven sand, nearly making him lose his balance.  The knife hits squarely along his left forearm, raking open a wide gash in his jacket that bleeds freely and Grobbik pulls in a sucking breath through his teeth.

OOC:  Yikes!  You had a nice roll on your initial throw, but your foe made his dodge roll on the nose and barely avoided the missile.  You on the other hand, critically failed your dodge, which mercifully only unbalanced you.  You have taken a moderate wound to the left arm.  Please give me 2 rounds of action.  You are currently in close combat with Prova (the knife fighter, and about 5 hexes away from the mace wielder, who is still sprawled out on his stomach.

Edit:  Please not that you are suffering from shock and skills/will is at a penalty for your next round.
Battle Map
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:16, Thu 25 May 2017.

Grobbik didn't know very many curse words, but he used all of them after a terrible stretch.  He thought he was better than almost falling over when the first guy got in his face.  It was time to redouble his efforts at practicing his knife skills, because obviously the work he had done at school didn't match well with real combat.  Items like uneven ground had already almost gotten him seriously injured.

Unfortunately, there was no time to dwell on the present.  He had a man with a knife in his face, and there was no time to stop and think about anything more than that.  Quickly Grobbik maneuvers around his foe as quickly as he can, while getting his other knife out.

Recovering quickly from his near disaster, Grobbik slicks another blade out of its sheath  without thought and catches the next slash of his opening neatly off its hilt and he circles his body to the left to keep himself on the outside of the fight.  Grobbik counterattacks, although Prova ducks neatly away from the swing.

Though the blood pumping in his ears still thunders, Grobbik begins to realize the noise of the crowd is escalating.  "Blood!"  One man shouts.  As another small section of the stands is beginning the chant of "Brand!  Brand!"

Several feet away, the mace wielding steel smith has made it back to his feet...

OOC:  No real change in the last two rounds.  Go ahead and give two more.  You successfully managed to circle around to your left, putting Prova affectively between you and Brand.  Go ahead and give me two more rounds.

Gribbik had a bad stretch there, but at least he had survived it intact.  Stepping back, he plays for time since he has maneuvered Prova into a bad tactical position.

"I need a job as a merchant."

Prova slashes out with his knife again thrusting low but then redirecting and slashing upward towards Grobbik's face!  However Grobbik managed to see the ploy in time and steps back nimbly, catching the blow across the hilt of his knife.  The mob groans in anticipation.

"I need a job as a merchant!"  Grobbik barks out at his foe, and Prova is momentarily at a loss, his brows wrinkling in confusion.  Behind Prova, Grobbik can already make out the steel smith Brand starting in another charge right for Prova's back!

Mercifully, Prova hears the disturbance of sand behind him and sidesteps as Brand's mace arcs down wildly, missing each of the other gladiators by over a foot.  Attempting to keep himself on the outside of the fight, Grobbik sidesteps nimbly to the left, trying to keep Prova in the middle of the fray.

OOC:  Again, not a whole lot of change.  Brand did a turn of moving and then another move with a wild swing, which missed.  Prova slashed out at you but you managed to parry neatly.  After Prova jumped out of the way, you circled around to the left again.  You are currently facing north, Prova southeast, Brand southwest.  Note that you can't cast any of your spells with items in both hands (all of them require word and gesture).  You can drop one of your knives as a free action, or throw it if you wish to use a turn.  Also note that Icy weapon takes three turns of concentration to cast.  Also note that if you need to use a defense you will need to succeed a will roll at -3 or your concentration is spoiled.  Two more seconds of action please.

Battle Map

Knowing that his best chance to win this was to keep the fights in Prova, Grobbik continues maneuvering to keep the merchant between him and the  mace wielder, while continuing to swing with his knife.

Grobbik's focus is entirely on his position, keeping Prova between himself and Brand, ensuring that the fight would continue between the other two first or at least that he would not be taken on at once by both of his opponents.  Waiting for a moment due to the range of his closest foe, Grobbik is surprised when instead of attacking either of his opponents, Prova makes a dash to get out from between the two!  Several yards he bounds before turning about and facing back towards the others.

Brand's momentum, already started, continues forward through where Prova had just stood and on directly at Grobbik.  Down crashes his mace, whistling through the air as it seeks to smite its second foe of the match, the whole crowd breathes in at once in anticipation.

Though the man's aim is true, Grobbik manages in a single swift motion to move his body to once side while glancing his knife off the edge of the weapon, redirecting it wide to the right.  But the force of the blow is such that the arm and weapon continue on, and without a hilt to protect his hand Brand is stung by the knife blade as it cuts across his knuckles.  With a sucking breath, Brand pulls his hand back, the mace flying down into the dirt just behind Grobbik where it sinks into the sand with a dull thunk!

Stepping in for his own attack, Grobbik thrusts his knife out viciously, connecting solidly with a blow to the man's side.  Blood weeps from the wound, dribbling downward towards his cloth pants and Brand backpedals furiously trying to escape the blow.  Encouraged by his success, Grobbik thrusts out again savagely and before Brand can regain his balance from the first blow he is struck again with the knife that sinks halfway to the hilt into his shoulder near his collarbone.  Brands shrieks with pain as he stumbles down to the floor of the arena landing flat on his back as blood spurts in a bright red arc that splatters Grobbik's chest and face.

The crowds cry out with glee at the mayhem!

OOC:  Unbelievable rolling on that turn.  You crit succeeded your retreating parry (which I fully expected your knife to break on) which resulted in a hero point for you and Brand losing his weapon.  You subsequently landed two consecutive attacks, the second of which resulted in Brand being stunned and knocked down to his back.  You are facing northeast, Prova Northwest.  Brand is taking up two hexes with his feet under you and his head in the hex his picture is in.  I've been just doing attacks to the torso as you haven't mentioned what your target location is.  Two more rounds of combat please.

Battle Map

The flurry of blows happened so fast that Grobbik barely even registered them in his mind. His reflexes took over. After his parry, he struck again twice as much out of habit and practice as anything.  It was only when his foe was on the ground bleeding that the goblin took stock of the situation.

The mace wielder was down, and seriously injured if not out of the fight. Without his mace, he was in bad shape. The main question now centered around Prova. Would he yield, or would he need convincing? It was time to find out.  Taking a step to his right, Grobbik squares up to face the merchant. He concentrates for a second to create an ice dagger as he does.

It takes him a second to measure up Prova, but that is at least partially because he senses that caution is warranted. In situations like this, most men would either be intimidated by the brutal work of Grobbik's knives, or reckless because they felt like their back was against the wall.  While his confidence was up after his success thus far, Grobbik had to assume Prova would not be here unless he was skilled.

As he waits for Prova to act, Grobbik (ever the businessman) asks him:

"So, about that job...  I was serious."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:13, Sun 04 June 2017.

With his second opponent down for the moment, Grobbik takes advantage of the momentary lull to drop the knife out of his right hand and weave his spell craft, collecting the very water out of the air around him into a sharp, crystalline blade of ice.

"Oh no you don't!"  Prova shouts as he hurls himself forward, slashing his knife wildly though it only cuts the air several inches short of Grobbik.

Surprised by the frenzied attack, Grobbik hurls his dagger at close range, Prova's knife coming up to parry aside Grobbik's throwing arm, though the effort comes up short...  The weapon impacts at a downward angle driving through the muscle of his leg then bursting into a gush of water as blood dribbles slowly down his knee.

Grobbik makes another quick plea for gainful employment, but Prova lashes back with both words and his knife.  "And you want me to employ you?"  Grobbik parries the blow aside harmlessly as he takes another step back.

Slowly, Brand is making his way to his feet...

OOC:  You are in close combat with Prova facing each other.  He sustained a light injury to the left leg.  You have a ready dagger in your left hand and dropped the other one around the area where Brand is just rising to a stand.


Battle Map

Grobbik steps back again and replies "You attacked me. This is business. I am here to make money. "

About the time Brand stands up Grobbik will step back again and say "Behind you". If time allows he will continue "I have skills."

Circling slowly south to get between Brand and his weapon as the resolute smith rises to a stand, Grobbik offers a modicum of peace, mentioning he is only there to make money.

As am I!" Prova nearly spits as he slashes out at Grobbik again, cutting low and then redirecting high in a thrust that nearly makes Grobbik lose his footing in a frenzy to get his weapon up in time!  Only by a miracle does he hear the clash of steel an inch from his face as he escapes the vicious blade and the crowd cheers and groans with anticipation!  Tired of giving the man continual chances to accept his offer, Grobbik slashes back with his blade, although Prova manages to jump back in anticipation and Grobbik's knife catches only air.

"Agh!"  Prova lashes out in a semicircle, trying to catch Brand, who is now standing, gripping Grobbik's dropped knife, though the blow goes wide.  Brand tries to retaliate in kind, although Prova again dodges nimbly backwards.

"Grobbik!"  Yells a member of the crowd over the goblin's shoulder.  "Grobbik!" answers another man in the crowd.  Grobbik sidesteps neatly eastward, intent on cutting the smith off from his mace, with which he has proven himself lethal.

OOC:  So the dice roller giveth, so it taketh away...  On that one you rolled a crit failure on your defense, and I opted to spend your hero point rather than have you miss your roll and fall over in the attempt.  Prova is now turned north with Brand facing southwest.  I added the mace on the map which is the letter M.  Brand is now holding the knife that you dropped.  Note that Prova's back is turned toward you though he is 2 hexes away.  Give me two more rounds of action.

Battle Map

Prova was playing as cutthroat as Grobbik was in a sense.  Because the goblin wanted something from him, he thought he was safe turning his back to attack Brand.  He should have known better than that.  Stepping forward, Grobbik attacks Prova in the back, knowing he can't defend it if he can't see it...

With a roar, Grobbik rushes in stabbing ferociously!  However, by some divine luck Prova steps forward, just as Grobbik stabs and in the motion he misjudges himself, only tearing a hole in Prova's tunic and causing a scratch that dribbles rather than weeps.

Prova spins around with effort, thrusting his dagger wildly at Brand, though somehow the man bleeding freely from two gory wounds manages to stumble backwards, escaping the blow.

He thrusts back at Prova, his aim true although the knife fighter manages to swat the blade away with a cut of his own weapon.

The voice of the crowd surges!  All three names are being chanted in simultaneous garbled gibberish, although Grobbik thinks he can hear his own moniker as clearly as any!

Encouraged on, this time Grobbik lashes out at Brand, who is now just as close with each of the three fighters within only a foot or so of each other.  The man already twice stabbed by Grobbik's blade receives yet a third cut, as he stumbles back sluggishly, though Grobbik misjudges the blow and only just pierces the skin.

Prova slashes at Grobbik, which the goblin neatly parries aside, Brand takes advantage to cut under Prova's defenses, though the blow get's caught in the fur of the man's tunic and misses his skin entirely.

OOC:  Too bad about the all out atack, you hit, but scored min damage and it was entirely stopped by the man's miniscule armor.  Since both of the fighters were in your attack range on the second turn I rolled randomly for which to hit and went for Brand.  You hit, though did little damage to speak of.  Roll vs. HT-4, if you fail you suffer 1 fatigue due to the extended combat.

Battle Map

Grobbik is getting frustrated with this battle.  It had carried on for a while now, and he was starting to get tired.  It was time to change things to go in his favor.  hat he didn't want was to be in the middle of the other two in the combat.  That was suicide.

Stepping back from the fray, Grobbik weaves his fingers, conjuring the powers of the water spirits once again.  Ahead, the two other fighters seem to pay no attention to him, Prova lashing out with two wild slashes that Brand somehow bats away with his knife and then slinks away from with uncharacteristic grace.  Brand lashes out back but misses wide in his fervor.

His spell complete, Grobbik thrusts his open arm towards Prova, sending a forearm sized jet of water blasting out of his hand!  Somehow, impossibly, Prova dances wildly away from the spell and it careens on for yards beyond.

It is the next moment however, that seems to play out in infinitesimally slow action.  The spell dodged, Prova locks eyes with the goblin, his teeth gritted in insane fury as he brings his forearm back for a devastating thrust.  Grobbik sees Brand moving too, his knife already pitched to strike again towards Prova, his feet moving in a forward jog.

Grobbik brings his left hand down hastily, brandishing his remaining dagger and cutting across the path of Prova's strike.  But somehow, his movements are too slow, sluggish even...  It must be the fatigue of the fight and his concentration on the spell that still fountains a stream of water from his palm, landing flaccidly on the sands, dozens of yards away.  It is with an innate realization of his failure that Grobbik watches Prova's dagger pass by his defenses and sink, only a few inches deep, into his side just below the rib cage.

Grobbik's body convulses violently, sending him into an inadvertent spin, his eyes straining to keep on Prova, to keep on the fight as he struggles to keep his feet.  Out of the corner of his eye he can see Brand, nearly unobserved slinking his own dagger underneath Prova's defenses - this blow much more horrible than the one that Grobbik had been struck.  A fountain of blood explodes from Prova's ribcagek, splattering Grobbik across the face as his legs give way underneath him and he sinks to the sands below.

It is only with a partial awareness that Grobbik's face slams down into the sands, his face rebounding with a slight jump as the world fades into blackness...

---

"Come on son."  The words register to Grobbik before anything else, for the world is still inky blackness as his mind kicks back into operation.

"Come on."  Grobbik's eyes flutter open, his mind trying to take in the sounds, feelings, and shapes around him.

Below him is a soft surface, though tiny pinpricks of pressure dot his upper back.  Beneath his head is a plush pillow of down.  The ceiling slowly comes into focus, a thick reddish brown slab that extends on to the edges of his vision.  Grobbik feels a knitting pain in his side that nettles him throbbingly even as he tries to put his world into context.

The dagger!

The act of Grobbik attempting to sit up while moving his left arm in a spasmodic attempt to parry the blow sends explosions of pain through his body as he crumples back onto the bed, both his side and his arm now throbbing painfully.

"Whoa there, take her easy!  I think you'll be fine, doing better off that either of the other two anyway, one with a ruptured spleen and the other with a shattered leg...  Just take her easy and you'll be alright...  No worries lad, it was a rough fight but you are doing fine, stitched you up right as rain and put a few bandages on we did.  Didn't seem you had the money to pay for it but it wasn't much so we just helped ourselves to one of your knives to pay the difference.  Fair and square."

His eyes batting open, Grobbik sees a face bubbling into his vision.  A thin but jovial man of middle age, his has a mustache and beard of flaming orange-red.

"You should be alright to get up now if you can."  The man says.  "You'll heal well enough on your own."

OOC:  Wow, what terrible luck.  Your water jet was successful in hitting, but dodged by Prova just barely, after the two others traded blows on the first turn, Prova attacked you after the spell miss and you badly failed your parry, causing just enough damage to have to check for knockback and stun.  You failed that one critically.  The good news is that you were avenged, and as soon as Prova hit you Brand swooped in causing massive damage to the vitals which put out Prova for days...  Still, you did not win the match, and had to forfeit you dagger and $3 to pay for medical expenses.  The last resort I see for the powerstone is begging from Judoc, and if you want to, we can set that up in this thread if that is where you want to move from here.  Otherwise, there could be many ways to acquire the money though you are hardly in the state now to overpower anyone.  You are currently half move and dodge, and still thoroughly exhausted from the fight, though you think you can walk back to the college if you had to.  You can check your character sheet for specifics.

About all Grobbik can do is moan.  His side hurts, his arm hurts, and overall he's just a mess.  For a moment he takes stock of the bandage on his arm, and the bandage across his chest.  Breathing was going to be a struggle for a while until that chest wound healed.  Shaking his head, he sighs at the current state of affairs.  To top everything off, he had ruined a perfectly good set of clothes too.  Blood was notoriously hard to clean without magic.  He was probably going to have the knife cuts mended too.  At least he would stay busy for a while.  As he struggles to sit up, Grobbik thinks back over his decision making process for the afternoon, to figure out what he did well, and what needed work.

That would be the last time he assumed real combat wasn't any harder than what he saw while training at the university.  He had done very well in classes with his knives, so he felt very confident going to the arena to make money. It was way different when you had to face multiple adversaries.  They hadn't done that very much with Brother Loke, and so he wasn't as prepared for the fight in the arena as he thought.  The next time he would plan ahead better.

Perhaps he would have been successful in the arena if he hadn't impulsively decided that the guy on the other side of that knife was a potential employer.  Yes, he needed money and they didn't really offer that at the university.  And yes, he had the opportunity to show off some of his unique skills, which could make him an attractive employee.  Unfortunately, while he was trying to negotiate a job, he wasn't taking Prova out while he had the chance.  That probably cost him a couple gold crowns, which was terribly frustrating.  And even if he did make a good impression with Prova, he couldn't apply for a job for days.  If the medics were accurate (and they did a VERY good job stitching him up), Prova would not be available for days.

The last thing Grobbik wanted to do was to ask Judoc for his power stone.  He was a friend, and they had a number of experiences together.  At the same time, they were also competing against each other, and he didn't want to show that sign of weakness.  Still, in his current state, he didn't have much choice.  All of Brother Loke's work would go for naught if he didn't find a magic item soon.  Perhaps Judoc would pity him in his current state, and let him borrow it to finish out the potion.

OOC Let's go with the Judoc angle.  I don't see where Grobbik has much option, and in his current state maybe he can work the pity angle.

Bemoaning his poor luck, Grobbik lifts himself from the medic's table and makes the slow, painful walk back to the castle.  Though his wounds hurt, and he is sure that the bleeding has not been entirely staunched, he manages his way back to the castle with little more ado.

By the time he makes it back to the Hall of Soldiers the rest of his room mates have made it back before hand.  Indrid sits at his desk, his small, smoky, oil lantern giving a warming glow to the room while Judoc reads in his bed by the soft bright floating orb of his light spell.

Recognizing his last avenue available, Grobbik grits his teeth and prepares himself deciding whether to reject or exploit his current weakness.  His face pale, his wounds wrapped and bleeding through, Grobbik approaches Judoc with an unavoidable lethargy to his steps...

OOC:  Ok, so Judoc joins the thread here for your guys discussion.  Please remember Judoc that the date here is Oct 3rd, so you would not have had your 5 point powerstone yet.  When you guys hash it out, I'll move on to the next part of Grobbik's thread.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:31, Mon 12 June 2017.

As he walks up to Judoc, slowly, Grobbik sighs under his breath.  Walking wasn't too painful as long as he went slowly and didn't breathe too hard.  He didn't want to move his arm too much either.  Grobbik wasn't making an effort to broadcast his wounded state as he approached his school mate, but he was far too injured to hide it too.

Grobbik was concerned with how this meeting would go.  School could be pretty cutthroat, since they would probably be competing for the same jobs in town sooner or later.  While he and Judoc were friends, they were also competitors on some level.  Asking for a favor like this would be complicated at best.  With luck Judoc would have sympathy for him instead of laughing at his predicament.  Either outcome was possible, especially because he was asking to use something Judoc would consider valuable.

After he arrives before Judoc, Grobbik takes s decent pause to gather himself.  Just basic communication took effort in his current state.  After formulating the words, he speaks to his friend softly.  It hurt to breath in, so he wanted to make the most of a few words.

"Hello Judoc.  Apologize for the question, but could I borrow your power stone?  I seek to overcome my Water College limitation.  A magic item is required for the ritual."


OOC If you read the other thread you know Grobbik got beat up pretty badly in the arena.  What Judoc will see is a large bandage across Grobbik's chest, probably with some hints of blood over the cut, and a similar bandage on his arm.  He's currently at half move because of the heavy wounds (for his size).  His tunic will have the appropriate rents and blood stains to reflect his injuries.

Engrossed in his reading, Judoc at first doesn't notice when Grobbik comes limping in.  He looks up at the question, and then he gapes when he sees the bandages and blood.

"Good God, man!   What the hell happened to you?"  He jumps to his feet and strides over to help Grobbik, offering to take his arm and help him walk.  "You look terrible!  Here, let me cast some Healing on you, ok?"  Judoc guides Grobbik over to the goblin's bed and begins waving his fingers.

"Now, what's all this about my powerstone?  How are you going to use it?"  Judoc looks at his roommate curiously, his eyebrows raised questioningly.

OOC:  Judoc will offer to cast a Major Healing  (4 FP) on Grobbik.

No need to RP this out.  Judoc will lend Grobbik his powerstone, but he will want assurances that it is returned in the same condition it was lent, or else Grobbik is willing to replace it.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 04:54, Fri 16 June 2017.

OOC  Grobbik will explain the ritual very generally, and then give a general explanation of his path to Judoc. When he gets to the arena fight he'll go into the gruesome details. I also don't feel like I really need to role play this out. Grobbik will promise to return the powerstone in the condition he found it or replace it.

As Judoc weaves the healing magic, the hurts in Grobbik's arm and side dissipate.  He can feel his skin crawling underneath his wrappings, wrapping, knitting, fusing back together, all in all it is not an unpleasant experience.

Grabbing the entire hemp necklace with the small powerstone with a word of thanks, Grobbik vaults off, heading straight for Loke's chambers, hoping against hope that the potion has not spoiled.  With a rapid knock on the door, Grobbik cracks the door, putting his face in the entryway as he tries his best to keep himself from shouting in anticipation.  "Professor?"

The room beyond is dark, leaving little open to Grobbik's vision past the narrow beam of light that filters past him through the doorway and Grobbik's other abilities seem to kick in to compensate.  Even as his face breaks the plane of the entryway, Grobbik senses are assaulted with powerful waves of magic.  Almost like a toxic odor the sensation wafts at him, warming his nose and cheeks like a fever that affects him from without.  But even as the sense dawns on him, it is gone within a moment.

"Professor?"  Grobbik asks again, and within the back of the room, Grobbik can hear the man before he sees him, slowly making his way towards the doorway.

"Come in then."  The professor calls as a handful of candles are lit by magic without much more than thought by the master mage.  "Ah, Grobbik."  The old man smiles as he immediately turns about, going to his desk where he picks up a large glass phial and walks back towards the doorway.  "Please, sit.  I'm glad you've made it.  I was thinking before I laid down to rest that the potion would not make it through the night.  Did you bring the item?"  Grobbik holds up the small powerstone and though Loke's stony expression seems guarded at best, he nevertheless hands over the potion to Grobbik.

"I suppose it will have to do."  Loke sighs.  "Though I told you I am not sure this will work, we will give it a shot.  Drop the stone entirely in the liquid, it will need to be submerged.  Then simply drink."  Loke pauses a moment before he adds.  "I would probably sit down before that however."

His expectation rising, Grobbik stares at the phial and the thin, coppery mixture that resides within.  With one hand, he pops the powerstone from its chords and carefully places the stone above the phial, dropping the stone in when it is close enough not to splash.  The liquid releases a puff of steam and immediately turns from a bright orange red to a thick, dark green, like the fluid that might come from liquefying pine needles.  The mixture is rolling with a churning motion that Grobbik only realizes after a moment is boiling.

"Quickly."  Loke says the word with anticipation, his eyes glued upon the substance in Grobbik's hand.  "It will not keep long."

OOC:  Ok, we are back into Grobbik only at this point.  You are fully healed by Judoc's spell and it has been noted in your character sheet.  You are still exhausted as you haven't really had the opportunity to rest between the walk back and coming straight over to Loke's rooms.  The potion is complete, all that is left to do is drink it.  I figured I would leave that action to you though rather than fast forwarding through it.

Grobbik is nervous about the potion as he looks at it in his hand. After all this work to get a magic item, he hadn't really thought about what the potion would be like. While his brain wants to spend more time considering all the angles, like what it will taste like, his body has other ideas. With little more than a second or two to look at the potion, he's quaffed the potion and it's down his gullet.

Grobbik does not take the time to sit as he is offered, in fact he barely looks at the potion before drinking the whole phial, drowning out his second thoughts.  Though the liquid boils in the cup, it is cool to the touch and it continues its churning in his mouth but slides easily down his throat with no inconvenience.

The potion works its magic quickly.  Grobbik barely has time to consider, as he dropped the phial from his lips, he never had felt the powerstone at the bottom of the cup.  All around him, the world begins to darken, like thick black molasses dripping down from the top of his vision.  Loke still watches, though the man's figure blurs into a dark black halo, only his eyes holding their color like shining blue sapphires.  It is only moments before Grobbik feels himself falling...

---

It is by feeling that Grobbik comes to wakefulness.  The cold hard ground beneath him presses uncomfortably into his cheekbone and hip, though his muscles do not bear the soreness of a long sleep in an awkward position.  Fluttering his eyelids, Grobbik pushes himself upward to a kneel, and as he does his breath catches in his chest.

For it is at this moment that Grobbik realizes that there is no floor.  Not that it is too dark to see anything, for his hands and wrist stand out clearly in their normal color, his leather jacket contrasting easily in its hard brown.  Rather, the ground (for surely there was something there or else what was supporting his weight?) seemed to simply continue on in an infinite, inky blackness of nothing.  Grobbik moves to a stand and finds all his other surroundings nearly the same, there is simply nothing to see nor any any light seemingly to see it by.  Grobbik simply was in a place that decidedly was not.

Turning about on the spot, Grobbik puts his hands out in front of him, walking as if blind in the first direction that comes to him.

Grobbik does not have long to wait, for it only takes but a few steps before his hands hit some other invisible something in the blackness.  Grobbik moves his hands in ever widening circles, trying to determine exactly what he has come across but it seems, just as the floor, it is just a flat surface that goes on beyond his reach in all directions...  Pressing his face closer, Grobbik stares into the emptiness, trying to grasp for more information.  But in truth, Grobbik feels the answer long before he sees it.

Slowly, the wall comes into focus.  Diagonal streaks of the clearest blue ripple across the solid surface, stretching upward and to each side as far as he can see.  Though the wall is translucent, it seems so thick that he can see nothing behind it or even within.  Though his fingers have been on the surface, prodding it scientifically for the past several moments, only now does he feel the cold.  Grobbik is certain beyond a doubt that this wall is entirely made of ice.

Grobbik opened his eyes to a dream.  It was a place of nothingness, of blackness.  As if the cares and stress of the world around him were gone.  He didn't have to worry about classes, or magic, or anything.  He didn't have to eat here, or drink here.  He didn't want for anything.  Somehow, after all the stresses, and after everything he had pushed himself through the last few days...  Surely the nothingness should feel comforting.

And yet, it didn't.  Grobbik still had the memories of approaching the provost of the college, and he still remembered the fear he felt trying to navigate that conversation.  The interaction was stressful as a beginning point, and terrifying at it's worst.  Fighting for his life in the arena didn't elicit any better reaction either.  The memory of that event was electric in a sense, as his heart started pumping, and his hands got clammy.  Or, they should be at least, because the action was fast and furious.

As the memories of his last few days floated through him, Grobbik wondered what this nothingness was really about.  Why would the magical phial bring him here?  Did he need an escape from all of his fears?  What was he supposed to learn from being in this state?  Brother Loke said it would help him, but as he felt around, somehow he just felt confined.  And that it seemed was the point.  In a moment of introspective insight, that's where it came to him.

Ice...  It was protection.  Grobbik was safe here.  Nothing could get to him through this wall.  After all the risks he had taken, and after all his fears were revealed to be true, he wanted a safe place to exist.  It made perfect sense that he would be brought to a place like this.  Just like he controlled the magic of water, the ice would solidify itself at his bidding to protect him.

Except, that coin had two sides.  While the ice protected him, it also enclosed him.  Grobbik was in a sense trapped by the very magic that protected him.  He felt the subtle ripples of the smooth ice around him, and wondered how far it went on for.  How long it would be until the cold started to gnaw at his exposed hands and ears?

As much as the water magic was comforting to him, it was also a trap.  Grobbik would always be in second place until he could find a way past this ice.  As a mage he could do enough magic to be useful, but not enough to really be valuable.  Others could make food and cook it, all he could do was wash the dishes or maybe put out the camp fire.  In a sense, he was living a half life as a mage, and in a way he knew it.  Maybe that was why he had pushed himself so hard to seek out this moment.

As his moment of introspection led to motivation, Grobbik wasn't sure how he should proceed.  The most obvious choice, given that he was surrounded in ice, was to try and melt it.  However, he wasn't at all comfortable trying to generate heat.  That sort of reckless effort could end up in the kind of fiery inferno he still dreamed about from time to time when he was sleeping.  That memory made him shudder for a moment, as he pictured the explosion in his mind.  No, that wasn't the way to go.

Instead, Grobbik closes his eyes and tries to envision the magic around him like water.  How many times had he closed his eyes in the ocean and felt the current carry him along for a few seconds?  Maybe he could feel something like that here, in this place.  Maybe the mana around him could carry him away like the current had in days gone past.  In this place, maybe that was possible, when he hadn't been able to do it before.

Quietly, silently, Grobbik tries to reach out with his feelings, with the hope that he will feel something...  Anything...


OOC Tried to fill in what I think he would do here, it's a bit of a vacuum so I envisioned him reliving the recent high points and then the horrible explosion he experienced as a kid.  Seemed appropriate to be introspective when all he had to do was think.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:21, Tue 20 June 2017.

To Grobbik, this dream, for he did not have a better word for it, was a perfect symbol of the duality of his condition: a competent mage, yet utterly crippled - standing in an impenetrable fortress that was to be his prison.  Grobbik knew that if he was to be free, if he was to become unconstrained by the shackles of his magic he would have to make his way through this wall...  His thoughts immediately go to melting the thing away, though his heart shudders with fear at the possibilities of what would happen if the act went well, let alone awry.  Shaking himself, Grobbik instead reaches out for the mana, attempting to feel the answer from the air around him.

At first when Grobbik reaches out with his mind he is shocked to find that he can feel nothing!  There is not even a trace of the magical fibers he has taken for granted since he began at the college over a year ago.  Refusing to give up, Grobbik closes his eyes, willing himself to feel it, like the flow of the ocean, like a great current which carried even the monstrous hulls of the three masted Men of War across the seas in leaps and bounds.

Yes.  Grobbik thinks to himself.  Now he can feel it.  The gentle ebb across his body that pushes him slightly to the side.  The subtle pull of pressure in his opposite shoulder as the water swirled into eddies created by the flow.  Grobbik breathes in slowly and deeply, opening his eyes to scry at the problem again.

Then he panics.

Water.  Not magic.  It was all around him.  The wall of ice stands as immutable as ever just in front of him.  However, everywhere else, where the nothing had been, is now engulfed by the clearest crystal blue water.  His breath catching in a cough, Grobbik sends a spurt of bubbles rippling upward, he feels the pressure forming about his ears and face.  Though he seems to be still standing on some sort of bottom, there is still no visual evidence of it, rather the water seems to go downward forever.  Likewise, above him Grobbik cannot see any light refracting off the ripples of the surface, just the translucent blue carrying on as his bubbles rise up in a seeming infinity.

OOC:  Thanks for the awesome post, you are spot on where I was hoping you would go with it.  Sorry for the perhaps overdramatic flair here but I've always been one to get to the point and I saw an avenue in your post and exploited the hell out of it.  Here's what I need from you.  First roll vs. Will labeled Hold breath.  If you pass this roll you can assume that you managed to keep from breathing in water.  If you fail, please make another roll against HT.  After that point, you are free to act as you see appropriate, you may attempt to swim to the surface (make a roll vs. swimming or HT-4), cast spells (Normal spell roll, if you must talk for your ritual then it will have a -2 for being underwater), or anything else you can think of.  Anything in this last category will likely have a skill or will roll associated with it as well, so if you are coming up with your own solution roll vs. the appropriate skill or if nothing seems to apply, label it ???.

As his eyes open and Grobbik finds that he is surrounded by water, he gasps in surprise.  Unfortunately, he gets water into his mouth instead of air, so his gasp unceremoniously turns into a sputter instead.  Instantly Grobbik's reaction is to panic, and his eyes get large for a split second.  Then he regains his composure and clamps his mouth closed.

As the bubbles float above him, Grobbik takes note that they never seem to reach the surface.  That was telling to him.  The place where he existed in the moment seemed to be a construct of his mind.  He thought of the mana as water, and suddenly he was surrounded by the fluid.  It was as if his containment was entirely submerged.  In a sense Grobbik had more mana than he could use, and he was drowning in it.

Perhaps that was his problem.  Grobbik had always thought of mana in terms of waves, like the water of the ocean.  It made sense when you considered his experience as a sailor.  Plus, Grobbik had a natural affinity to water in general.  It protected him from the fire that frightened him so.  That inherent comfort level was the very trap he had created for himself.  Unless he ventured beyond those shores, Grobbik knew he would never advance beyond his current limitations.  On an instinctive level he knew that he couldn't use water magic to try and save himself.

Impulsively, Grobbik considers fire as a possible solution to his problem.  The explosion he saw as a child would certainly break him out of this prison.  JEss, it terrified him to do it, but how much damage could a fireball really do submerged in water?  Latching on to the idea, without much thought for his safety, Grobbik starts to envision the fire coming from his hands.

That's as far as he gets.  In a sense Grobbik has grown, because he can even consider the possibility of someday wielding fire.  However, the picture in his mind's eye shows him just how far he has to go.  The poor goblin blanches at the imagined picture in his mind.  The bile raises in his throat, and his fists clench as the panic starts to overtake him.

It's only because of his training at school that he is able to regain control of himself again.  Slowly Grobbic concentrates on relaxing each muscle, one by one.  He had been taught the drill many years ago when he started training with his knives.  The goblin finds the relief almost palpable as he slowly regains control of himself.  Thankfully, he had some experience holding his breath as a sailor, and he was quite fit when compared to the average person.  Grobbik was at least somewhat prepared for this challenge.

That still left the question of how he would deal with drowning.  Grobbik already knew that he couldn't use the Water college to attempt his escape.  That was in a sense his whole problem.  Swimming seemed useless too, if there was no surface to the water.  What Grobbik needed was a different solution.  Something that he could concentrate on to extract himself from this predicament.

Suddenly, in a moment of insight, an answer comes to him.  His last class had been in the WEATHER college.  He just recently learned the Current spell.  The treatment of Weather spells was slightly different than Water spells.  Maybe he could reproduce something similar and use that to find a way out of his prison.

Grobbik closes his eyes, and tries to envision himself in the middle of a storm.  He would be standing on the ice, breathing in air, with a heavy rain falling.  It had to be that way because of his affinity to water.  But then, maybe he could picture a lightning bold streaking down from the sky to strike his prison.  He had seen plenty of terrible storms while sailing at sea.  It shouldn't be that hard to picture in his mind...

Finding himself submersed in water, Grobbik is so surprised that he coughs and splutters sending his last breath in a flurry of bubbles upward.  Luckily, he is able to keep himself from breathing in again, but his lungs yearn to expand to regain the air that they have so quickly lost.

Grobbik thinks first of fire, the surest thing to get him out of this predicament, but even the thought is enough to make Grobbik's body reel in terror, unintentionally sucking in a mouthful of water and quickly coughing it back out in a spasm.  Grobbik's lungs are already beginning to burn, his diaphragm flexing in and out in short bursts in preparation of taking his next breath, although Grobbik manages to keep himself from inhaling from sheer will.

Instead, the goblin closes his eyes, attempting to change his environs yet again.  He envisions a hundred different storms that he had seen out on the waters, willing himself to be there...  A flash of light hits the back of Grobbik's eyes, and he opens them to see the water above him soaked in dazzling white light.  But a few moments later, he can hear the crack of thunder, dulled in volume but intensified in effect by the water.  He feels the noise with his whole body hitting him like a percussion wave at his shoulders and chest...

Though it seems that Grobbik's storm has come, it has done nothing to save him from his current danger, and Grobbik's lungs begin to burn like they are on fire.

OOC:  You are down 4 fatigue (from full) due to the exertion and extended time holding your breath.  You will continue to lose fatigue at 1 per second until you pass out.  The same options are available to you as above, or anything else that you can think of that you might help.

Grobbik can't think of another way out of his icy box.  Any thought of fire was likely to cause him more panic, so he couldn't melt his way out.  His affinity with water made rock more difficult, so that option was out.  It had to be the air and the water, since he knew the sea and the storms.  It was his best option.  Grobbik was sure he somehow needed to use magic to escape this prison, and that was all he could think of.  His school did specialize in the elemental after all, and it's what he had learned in his studies.

Closing his eyes, Grobbik again focuses on the storm.  It was already here.  He just needs to change how it works.  Instead of the magic waves of water surrounding him, Grobbik envisions the mana around him as the wind of the storm.  Instead of the water creating the storm, he wanted the wind to carry the rain drops.  The wind had to be his vision of the mana now.

That was the secret.  Grobbik couldn't be limited by thinking of magic as the ripples on the water.  Mana was not limited to one elemental form.  It was all of them.  And many more things too.  That flow he felt when casting a spell wasn't water, it was mana.  It could be air just as easily, which was the point of his exercise.  He needed to separate the vision of water in his mind from the flow of magic.  Hell, it could be the flow of electricity just as easily as water or air.  It wasn't the form of the mana that was important.  It didn't matter how you felt it.  What mattered was the flow, and it could be from any source.

As he fights within his own mind for control of his magical affinity, Grobbik is struck for a moment by the absurdity of it all.  Here he was drowning in a creation of his own mind, as he finds him trapped by a subconscious creation of his own mind.  He was probably a fool to think he could control his thoughts.  His impulsive behavior over the course of this long process proved he needed more mental discipline.  His mind was often times elusive and difficult to corral.  Horses could be trained, however.  This process made him think guiding his own mind was more like herding cats.

The levity of the thought pattern causes Grobbik to smile inwardly.  In fact, the silliness of the situation brings him to the point of opening his mouth to express a laugh, imaginary water be damned.

Sure that the way to beating this mental prison was to master his own thoughts, Grobbik wrestles his mind towards submission, forcing forcing himself to dwell on the mana, now as the wind whipping him in the face with stinging rain.  The mana, he thought over and over again, though the next several times his thoughts changed persistently, imagining the mana as the rush of air, the crackle of lightening...  Soon his thoughts descend into the wrangling of horses and the absurdity of herding cats.  He laughs, having never really concentrated on anything, and swallows a lungful of water through his nose and mouth.

His diaphragm convulses with spasms like hiccups... His eyes and ears pop with pressure as grey spots appear all over his vision.  Though the moment would be horrifying, Grobbik can only help but think, I wonder why this water isn't salty?  What kind of sea is this anyway?  Or perhaps Grobbik simply hadn't imagined it right...

For the briefest of moments, Grobbik becomes aware of a duality of time and space.  His body floating, drowning in the rippling current and waves in a sea of his own creation and his body aching from a full day's walking, beaten and exhausted from a failed fight in the arena - only whole due to Judoc's ministrations.

But that moment is fleeting, and at first Grobbik is confused when a hand grasps around his wrist and pulls his arm, paining his shoulder as the rotator is leveraged out of place for the briefest of moments.  And then, Grobbik is all in once place again, vomiting the whole contents of his stomach onto the wooden floorboards below.  His whole body sways with sideways forces as he rocks back and forth on his hands and knees like a drunkard.

Grobbik's vision slowly spreads back out from the small pinprick at the center of his gaze until he can make out the shallow walls around him, and the whitecaps of brine that splatter over the sides.

Overhead, lightening rips through the sky and thunder roars down immediately after.  As if in collusion, an enormous wave hits them broadside at near the same moment, knocking Grobbik off his base as his body is wracked with several gallons of the imaginary sea.  The blackness of the clouds overhead is overwhelming like the worst storms Grobbik has seen in his sailing days.  But still, to his side several feet from the boat, Grobbik sees the wall of ice climbing to the skies and into the clouds above.

"You disgust me."  The voice comes from behind Grobbik, and though he is enormously thankful to whatever saved him from the seas, he is struck by how empty and resentful the voice sounds.  Lifting his head, he is even more surprised to find that the voice speaking to him is his own exact replica.  A Grobbik in perhaps everything but name.  Still, Grobbik himself, as he clamors back to his knees looks at the sneer on the features of this other goblin, the hate and revulsion in his eyes, and cannot help but wonder how he had created this moment in his mind, and what this goblin told him about himself.

"You are presented with an obstacle in one direction, and you make it your prison.  Not content with being confined, you create your own hell, and pretend it is in the name of freeing yourself of a burden...  One that you have created of your own will!"  The goblin spits.

Grobbik thinks to rise to his feet, although the swaying of their small craft and the continual purge of his stomach and lungs keeps him deckbound for the moment.

"You are presented with a wall of ice, and only feed it with more water, and then with storms that each weaken you all the more!  You do not even wish to begone of your weakness!  It comforts you, your skill only with the water college.  It assures you that you will never be asked to conjure such magic as you fear!  You wish to be ignorant!"  The goblin turns about in rage putting his back towards Grobbik and his face towards the storm.

"This is what you choose instead of knowledge!  You choose fear and desolation rather than power because you do not wish to wield it!"  The goblin turns back around on Grobbik, his eyes boring into him with hatred and disgust.  "You are weak!"

OOC:  You can imagine yourself on a 40' sailing vessel with the mainsail and jib pulled down.  You are essentially just bobbing freely in the current, and the waves are hitting you breech which makes for an extremely wild ride.  If you wish to stand up, you must roll against DX per turn to keep your feet.  If you fail that roll, you must roll against DX (at +2 if you grab onto something before you stand) one more time to keep hold onto something as you lose your footing or fall back into the seas.  Bizzaro Grobbik is standing at the bow of the ship about 4 yards away from you and seemingly unphased by the storm and the waves.  You are now at a total of 3 FP left, which puts you at half move, dodge, and ST.

Grobbik wipes his sleeve across his mouth to clear the rest of the puke and spittle away.  Maybe this was all an image in his head, but it still felt real.  He acted just like he would in real life, because this was as real as anything for the moment.  It felt real, and his had really almost drowned, so for the moment he saw no reason to act as if it was some sort of fantastic realm.

As he gathers himself, the pseudo Grobbik tells him how wretched and stupid he is.  The words don't carry the intended weight, because Grobbik knows they are false.  Yes, he had a weak spot in his heart because something horrible happened to him as a child.  It was frustrating to work around, and there was a time he had hated himself.  However, he had long ago forgiven himself for those thoughts.  A bad experience didn't make him weak.  Grobbik was a survivor.  He had come a long way carrying such a mental wound, when many would have long ago given up on it.

As the boat crashes in the sea, Grobbik crawls to the side of the boat where the waves are hitting it, and grabs onto the side.  As he stands up, Grobbik responds to his doppelganger, as he makes his way towards the tiller.

"Am I inside the prison trying to escape, or am I outside the prison, locked away from the rest of my magical ability?  It matters not how you think about it.  The ice wall matters.  I built it, and I need to conquer it.  It doesn't matter how.  I just know that to be the challenge.

Maybe imagining mana like it was water didn't help, but it was all I could think of at the time.  When all you can do is Water spells they don't ask you to sit in on the fire seminars.  I'm working on something different now, and as you can see I have conjured up a beautiful storm.  Maybe it isn't perfect, but it's a start.  It's better than where I was a few minutes ago, because I can feel the wind, and the electricity in the air has my arm hairs on end.

You can sail around here listlessly all you want.  I can see your boat is going nowhere because you're stuck in your resentment and hatred.  I personally have somewhere else to be.  You can help me, you can stand against me, or you can stand up there all haughty and do nothing.  You're part of me, and the fact is I will struggle to do this on my own.  But that's your choice.  I'm not willing to sit out here and drown when this boat finally turns over.

Are you going to help me or what?"

OOC Grobbik could probably calm the storm, but leaving it seems appropriate to the war within him.  And, it's a nice back drop.  Plus I have plans for it.

Grobbik will stand up, holding on to the wall of the boat as tightly as he can.  He's going to make his way to the tiller and turn this boat into the ice wall.  Sailing he can do, at least decently.

Grobbik raises from his sickened position, wiping his mouth off with a sleeve as he grasps the toprail and works himself back to the tiller, all the while roundly arguing off his simacrulum's ire and ill wishes.

All the while the goblin listens intently, his smile tweaking upwards just perceptibly at the corners of his mouth.  It is only as Grobbik turns the ship to put the bow into the waves that the goblin responds to his words.

"My boat?  My resentment and hatred?"  Though the goblin laughs, the sound is hollow and mirthless.  "What do you think that I am?  In this prison of your mind where you control everything you think I am your adversary, plotted by some villain unknown to you?  Think of this wall of ice as inhibiting your escape or guarding some treasure, it makes no difference to me.  It simply matters that you have made it stand and that you have chosen it to be your obstacle.  Do not be confused and think that your way is blocked at all turns, for you could just as easily sail off into the unknown darkness.  It is the same with me.  You call this my boat, but it is here because you saw in your mind's eye a vessel being tossed about the storm.  You think I am unfair to you, but I am only the thoughts that you fear to listen to in your own voice.  Everything is here because you will it; you have set your stage, and so far have only succeeded in attempting to drown yourself on it.  So you ask if I will help you?  I will help you only as you help yourself, only as you forgive yourself.  If you seek information from me, know that you will only be searching your own mind.  If you seek to defeat this wall, then it comes only by mastering yourself...  It does not require fire, or lightening, storms or acts of the gods, only a moment of honesty."

The ship finally sailing into the waves, Grobbik slowly edges his way towards the wall of ice, until the brow thunks against the monstrosity just aft on the starboard side...

OOC:  Roll vs. Will.

Grobbik has had some time to gather himself and think about his approach after almost drowning.  As his boat nudges up against the wall of ice, Grobbik moves to put his hand on it, feeling it's coldness on his hand.  Closing his eyes, he tries to envision sunny skies in all directions...as in the boat sailing along with no ice wall in it's way.

His twin was speaking the truth.  The wall was here because some part of his brain wanted it to be there.  The trick to removing the blockade was within his mind.  Down deep inside of him was the cynical, angry, wounded image that stood in front of him.  That mass of ugliness was a part of him, and perhaps it unconsciously spawned that angry storm that almost drowned him.

Accepting that bitter pill was the first step towards reconciling the hurt within him.  Perhaps that should start with the peace and calm of a sedate ocean.  Without the storm and the wall to worry about, perhaps Grobbik could start to address the other half of his persona, the one he had so comfortably compartmentalized away from his daily life.

As the bow of his little sailing vessel rubs against the ice wall in the heavy seas that he has created, Grobbik pulls himself against the top rail, placing a single hand against the obstruction, feeling the very chill that he knows that he himself has created.   Closing his eyes, he concentrates on that feeling, slowly forcing into his consciousness sunshine all about him.

There is no cold.  He thinks, and the icy chill on his hand fades into a hard and slick wetness as his fingers relinquish their discomfort.

There is no storm.  The ship slows it's movement, the pitching of the deck decreasing in interval and intensity until he barely feels the deck below him moving at all.

There is no wall.  Grobbik's hand falls from it's resting place as he tips over precariously, his eyes fluttering open to catch his balance.

But it is not on a ship that Grobbik wakes.

Flat on his back, his whole being exhausted from an impossible day, Grobbik looks up only to see the face of Brother Loke looking down at him.  In his half dreaming state, Grobbik can barely put the pieces together of where he is and what he is doing there but slowly his memory returns to him.  Unsmiling, Loke looks down at Grobbik with mild interest before simply stating, "Your aura has changed."

OOC:  Thanks for humoring me in a foray into Grobbik's mind.  For all intents and purposes, this thread is over but if you have conversation or questions for Loke feel free to continue as you see fit.  If you do want to continue it, I'll take you walking out the door as the last post in the thread.  Please do note that the powerstone you borrowed from Judoc was destroyed in the elixir and he expects you to pay him back.

Grobbik doesn't answer Brother Loke as he lays on the floor in a puddle.  Instead he just moans a bit.  His eyes hurt at the bright light in the room, and he blinks a couple times as tears run down his cheeks.  Most of his body seemed to hurt, and it took him what seemed like a long time to adjust to reality again.

After his eyes adjust, Grobbik sits up, and then clambers unsteadily to his feet.  He had been through so much over the last couple days.  All he wanted to do was sleep for as long as his body would let him.  Sluggishly he looks over at Brother Loke, and says "Thank you" before he shuffles out of the room towards his quarters.


OOC That was a really challenging thread, although not in a bad way.  It just took a lot of thought and a lot of deeper role play to understand the most appropriate choice in a few of those situations. 
This message was last edited by the player at 22:40, Wed 05 July 2017.