You've been drinking alone all day, or at least what constitutes a day for you - late afternoon 'til now, just after sunset.  It'd be a heavy day for most, but for you it's a little light.  The booze isn't cutting it today.  Just great!  You're either going to have to find something harder or something productive to do.  The odds are stacked in favor of something harder.  You aren't going to find either in The Wharfman, so you pay your tab and stumble out into the night.

A cool wind blows off the river and ruffles your hair back.  You stop and pose for a moment.  Wind in your hair is a good look for you according to your ego and an audience of zero.  It's fall, not that you care.  You don't have crops to harvest.  Grift doesn't have an off-season.

You ponder your options.  There's Greasy Al's.  You've still got some silver.  Maybe you'd get lucky and turn 50 into 500.  Do you feel lucky?  You could score something at Al's off Uldis Crisbill, or tussle with a hard case.  Drinking is right out of the question, a complete waste of time there.  There's an opium den in Wagontown you haven't been to in ages.  It's a bit of a hike, but the night is early and both of your feet are in working order.  Macklemore might even have a job for you.  His girls are always getting in some sort of trouble.  But you shouldn't have to go halfway across The Rocks to find work.  This is Edge.  This is where the action is.  Crenellated John always has leads, but he'll send you all over New Brittany.  You're a homebody.  You don't like to cross the river.  You can talk to you old buddy Alejandro.  They're calling him Captain these days.  He's just as likely to hook you up with a Constable or Thieves' Guild job as he is to slip you something out of the evidence locker.

With your head full of all the wonderful paths your life has set before you the unexpected happens.  A pretty girl you've never seen before with curly black hair and light blue eyes that match her sweater runs squarely into your chest.  You know how you didn't see her.  Your mind was a world away, and all those drinks probably didn't help either.  The world instantly snaps into focus.  You know why she didn't see you.  She's running from someone in a panic.

"Sorry!" she calls back to you as she resumes her flight.  You get a better look at her face this time.  She's scared now, but you think she smiles most of the time.

You'd love to just stand there and watch the back side of her feminine form, hips, long skirt, and hair swishing as she retreats into the night, but your instincts whip your head around to see who or what she's running from.  A pair of cheap thugs, Badger and Holster, both Guild and both work for a shylock you owe.  A lot.  Right now you're paid up enough that nobody's itching to send you a message, so Badger and Holster are harshing someone else's night for a change.

It was said earlier that this event was unexpected, but not because of the girl, or the thugs, or the chase.  This is Edge.  These things happen.  The unexpected thing was what the girl dropped when she ran into you.  A book.

A nice looking girl to be sure, and clearly more fleet of foot than Badger and Holster, which did not take much doing.  But why were they chasing her?  And... what was this?

Senses tingling, Tom slipped the book into his cloak and moved to where the light was better.  He considered looking, but instead moved into the shadows and then looked around before opening it.  As he did so, the blue-eyed girl's face came back to haunt him. Why were those low-lifes after her?  Being careful, he glanced at it, if nothing else to consider whether to keep walking or head back in the direction she ran...

You needn't go far in your quest for light.  The building next door is a popular cabaret/whorehouse.  Their sign emblazon with a naked woman playing a harp is well illuminated by two bright lanterns.  You give the book a peek.  The title on the front reads Codex Transmundane.  There's some sort of paper with a note on it marking a page.  There are a lot of words on the page, but few on the note, so you read that instead.



This is when the guilt and remorse bubble up like a gut full of bad liquor.  Badger and Holster are professional chase down artists on their home turf.  First hand experience tells you that they are going to catch this light blue bird, and when they do bad things are going to happen.  It's not time to think about what these bad things could be.  It's time for making your choice - slink off to a quiet place (not that it's ever very quiet in Edge) to give the book a good looking over or follow a pair of lowlifes chasing some girl you've never seen before.  Any more of a head start and they'll too far gone.

The booze he had been drinking suddenly felt sour in his stomach.  Shoving the book in his one open pouch, he ran his hand through his messy hair.  "Crap on a halfling.  No pretty girl deserves to have a going over from those sewer rats."  Thomas Hardy might be a drunk s.o.b., but he was no rat.

Taking his rapier out (because he could run faster with it in his hand than it banging against his leg) and set out a fast pace where those numbnuts had gone.  What was a surprise as he ran was (1) the fact that he was running and (2) he was getting angry as he ran.  He should be running after that cute doll because he wanted to meet her, not to save her from two scumbags.  And he hated scumbags, mostly because he was afraid of becoming one.

"Come on, she'd either hide or duck between buildings."  That in mind, he looked as he ran, and listened.  She had to be someone, and the thugs would be making more noise that her, most likely.

The dame is out of sight.  In this case it's a literal description of you not being able to lay eyes on her, instead of a comment on her spectacular looks.  Luckily, Badger and Holster are still close enough to tail.  Your boots hitting the paving bricks of Riverside street make a small racket, but the pair of cheap thugs are making twice as much noise of their own.  They didn't take much, if any, notice when the girl ran into you and they're taking no notice of you now, being preoccupied with their own chase.

Riverside runs through a slum of hovels on its way north.  It's here that the two crooks leave the street.  They cut through the tightly packed shacks and shanties - a shortcut towards the main business district of Edge.  It's harder to follow them here, but you've got enough on the ball to predict where they'll come out.  Sure enough, when you emerge out onto Shade street in front of the candlemaker's shop (currently closed) you spot all three contestants in the killing-Tom's-buzz race.  Now to be fair, you didn't have much of a buzz going.  It wasn't for a lack of trying.  Some nights booze just doesn't do the trick.

You have to hand it to her.  This brunette put those legs to good use for a lot longer than you expected, but you can read the cards.  She's got a losing hand and the boys at the table aren't gonna be bluffed.  She kicks up some dirt leaving 3 Rings street and cutting for the alley just past the stables.  That's where they're gonna catch her.

Badger goes left to cut the girl off.  He's the smaller and shiftier of the two.  Despite his size he's easy to spot in a crowd due to his distinctive armored bowler hat.  He might be dumb as a bag of rocks, but Badger tends to do the talking anyhow and can put a good scare in you if you don't know better.  You know better.

Holster keeps following the girl.  He's the heavy, the muscle of the two.  A greasy punk in cheap leather, Holster likes cracking skulls with his heavy mace.  In fact, your very skull has danced with Holster's mace a time or two.  Good thing you've got a thick skull.

Tom made an instant decision and followed the muscle.  He didn't have two thoughts to rub together and always let Badger do the talking.  He made the turn off the street and slowed a bit, knowing that Holster would only move as fast as he needed to keep the girl from doubling back, then would just walk up if muscle was needed.  Of course, muscle usually was.

But Tom slowed, even as he heard Badger talking.  He couldn't hear him, but that wasn't important.  He slipped the rapier in his so he was holding it pommel out.  He didn't need to kill anyone, just hit them hard enough to keep them down.  And while Holster's head was hard, a rap to the back would still be enough for putting out the lights.

And so he walked up, making sure he stayed a bit to one side so Badger wouldn't see him, and hoping the girl didn't chime up when she saw him so that he could get the drop on the bruiser.

There's a feminine cry and some thuds in the dark.  When you get there the girl is down, lying next to the city's uncollected filth, and for once that doesn't mean Badger and Holster.  Holster is standing in the T intersection of two alleys (north, south, and you're coming from the east).  He has the broad by her lush brunette hair. You're at the very edge of Holster's peripheral vision.  You don't think he's wise to you just yet.  There's no sign of Badger, but you expect him to arrive from the south any second now.

---

It's even darker and more shadowy here than most of Edge at night (+2 to stealth, -1 to hit).

You can try to get the drop on Holster with a Move Silent check (DC 9).  If you succeed your attack is considered a sneak attack.  If you want to punch Holster with the hand guard of your rapier that would be 1D3+1D6+2 non-lethal damage.  Normally, this would draw an attack of opportunity, but not on a sneak attack.  Stabbing him outright would be 2d6+1 lethal damage.  If you fail your Move Silent check (unlikely), just roll initiative.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:45, Sat 26 Aug 2023.

Tom hesitated, then moved up.  Figures that scum would overpower a girl and feel like a man.  And by her hair.  Seriously?  Made him want to grab him by his lower hairs and listen to him scream.  Maybe he could.

He slipped among the shadows, moving silently as a slightly tipsy man could.  He brought up the rapier, then brought it down hard on that scum's head.  Hopefully his head wasn't as hard as his.  He grinned as he heard the thud.

21:48, Today: Tom Hardy rolled 15 using 1d20+8.  Move Silently.
21:50, Today: Tom Hardy rolled 21 using 1d20+2.  Attack with rapier.
21:52, Today: Tom Hardy rolled 3 using 1d3.  Damage.
21:53, Today: Tom Hardy rolled 6 using 1d6.  Non Lethal.
My rolls on this dice roller are NEVER this good!

Blissful Dice Roller poetry!

You brain Holster so hard that he not only never knew what hit him, but if he did at one time know, he would never be able to remember what it was that hit him.  He's out before he hits the ground.  He's going to be out for a good long time and regretting his life choices for days afterwards.

Badger arrives right on cue.  You don't think he got to see you knock Holster's lights out.  More the shame.  It was a thing of beauty worthy of an audience.

"Hardy?!?"  Badger spits out, surprised to see you.

He draws his shortsword instead of his favored hardwood cudgel.  In badger-speak this says he means business.

"This ain't got nothing to do with you, Tommy boy.  Scram!"

You don't much feel like scramming.

---

Roll initiative (DC 18).  If you tie or win you can act first.  Neither of you is caught flat-footed either way unless you crit or crit fail.

"It started mattering to me when you and your numbnut buddy decided this poor girl was someone you wanted to mess with.  'Cause she's got a protector now.  Me.  I give you one chance.  Your buddy will live.  You, I don't care about."

He was having so much fun not scramming that he forgot to act and not talk.  Typical.

Forget what I said about the dice roller.
Today: Tom Hardy rolled 10 using 1d20+7.  Initiative.

"Too bad there's no one here to protect you."

You've fought Badger before, but Jacoby tends to send three or four guys to back Badger up when they're out to deliver you a beatdown.  Tangling one-on-one is new for both of you.  Badger takes a half step towards you and flashes a swing up towards your noggin'.  Your instinct is to parry and repost, but something's off.  Can you catch it in time?

---

21:27, Today: Fritzholm, for the NPC Badger, rolled 10 using 1d20+5.  Bluff (Feint).

Badger feints.  Roll Sense Motive (DC 10) or you'll lose your DEX bonus to AC next round and will leave yourself open to a treacherous sneak attack.  Succeed or fail, it's your turn to attack.  Of course, turnabout is fair play.  You could try a feint of your own if you'd like.  Just roll Bluff.

"Yeah, where are your buddies, Weasel?  Oh yeah, he's layin' down, isn't he?  If you ask the girl nice maybe she'll help you.  Not."

Seeing the feint coming, he slipped out of it, and then did his own feint.  Turnabout being fair play and all that.

Tom Hardy rolled 13 using 1d20-1.  sense motive.
Tom Hardy rolled 18 using 1d20+7.  bluff.
Not bad considering I have no sense motive, so it is straight wisdom -1 check...

It's time to give Badger a dose of his own medicine.  You pull back from defending against his fake at the last second and deliver a false thrust of your own.  This leaves the baffled thug off balance.  He swings wildly at you and misses badly.

---

23:47, Today: Fritzholm, for the NPC Badger, rolled 14 using 1d20.  Sense Motive.
23:48, Today: Fritzholm, for the NPC Badger, rolled 4 using 1d20.  shortsword to hit.

Badger is open to a sneak attack.  You can safely try another non-lethal knockout punch like with Holster or you can just stab him with your rapier.  You figure that either one will take him down.

He wanted to serious hurt him, but that was bad for business.  So he went the non-lethal route, hitting him with his pommel, figuring he'd knock him down like his buddy, then get the girl out of here.


Tom Hardy rolled 18 using 1d20+2.  Attack with rapier.
Tom Hardy rolled 1 using 1d3.  Damage.
Tom Hardy rolled 5 using 1d6.  Non lethal.

"No one to help you, Weasel!" he stated as he watched him, ready to turn to help the girl.

With the pigsticker not posing a threat, you move in to more personal range and give Badger the old one-two.  You fold him over with a left to the breadbasket and finish off the tomato can with a rapier-guard-uppercut while his head is on its way down.  Ring the bell.  This mook isn't getting off the canvas.

You turn to attend to your rescued damsel, but she's not lying in a heap where Holster left her.  The crafty broad was playing possum and not waiting around to see whether your pugilistic prowess would prevail over Badger's blade.  Good for her.

The alley this dame is in now is dark.  Real dark.  The kind of blanketing darkness you wish you had when you curled up in bed at night, or in your case curled up on the couch close to morning.  You can hear her retreat better than you can see it.  She's going north to get out of the alley.  After that it's anyone's guess.  Your good deed of the night is done.  Do you really need to run after her to get a thank you?

Sheathing his rapier, he didn't bother searching the thugs - they usually didn't have money and frankly, they stank enough to not portend a good time actually touching them.  So he turned to his damsel, and let out a huff of annoyance.  The dame had brains, it seemed.  So he gave just a moment to think.  No, he didn't need a thank you, it was thanks enough to lay out these bums.  But he wanted answers, and hated unanswered questions.

He moved quickly to the exit to the alley, looked to see her.  Assuming she is not to be seen, he turned to head to where she had run into him.  If she was like most dames, she would want her stuff back, especially if she took a moment to check herself.  If she went back to where she was staying, it still stood to reason she would return to the last place she had her book... eventually.

So, walking briskly but not in a great hurry, he retraced his steps back to where her lovely curves had met his front side.  She'd be be around, he thought.

Returning to Riverside street outside The Dwarf Wharfman brings you full circle for the night.  Your need for a buzz has been replace by thoughts of mystery.  Who is the brunette doll in light blue?  Why was she running from Badger and Holster?  What does the book have to do with it all?

Leaning on the wall of the Edge Ferry Company gives you a nice inconspicuous place to case  the scene of the bumping-into.  There's no shortage of bit part characters milling about.  A broadsword-for-hire in old fighter's guild surplus is chatting up a dancer who in turn is trying to coax a few post-score facts out of the merc.  It isn't going as well as she hoped.  Broadsword is only one sheet-to-the wind and still has his wits about him.  You spot a guild pickpocket, eyes darting from one passing potential victim to the next.  His long, loose wool cloak is good for all non-summer weather and better at hiding a weapon and stolen gains.  Where there's one there's usual three.  You pick one of his accomplices in the crowd, a skinny teen with patchy, straight hair.  You've seen the kid around buying from Uldis Cresbill.  You'd have to wait til they make a move to be sure of the third, or maybe the pouch-snatchers are a crook short tonight.  A two-way split is richer than three.

What you don't see is a pretty girl trying to lay her baby blues on a book she dropped.  She's had time enough to come back and be casual about it, but you haven't caught even a whiff.  Four-fifths of a gumshoe's job is waiting around and watching.  Could be the dame's a no-show.  You got plenty of night left and nowhere else to be, but there's also the book.  That's a hard lead.  To what, you're not sure, but curiosity is gnawing at you while you stake out this patch of Edge.

This was the part of a job he didn't like.  The waiting, waiting for someone to show, or someone to make a move, or leave.  It could be worse.  It could be raining.  Or the local guard could be around, harrassing people for the hell of it.

Still, she had to know she lost the book.  And unless he was very mistaken, that book was what she was being chased for.  It wasn't for that nice body, but then again, one never knew, did one?

He carefully reached in his pocket for the book, leaning up against a wall.  He glanced down, then up, not wanting to be surprised, but wanting to see a quick clue as to WHY this was important.  He cupped it in his hand, not wanting to advertise the fact that he was looking at something he found.  Maybe she'd show.  Or maybe more, there would be a quick clue as to why she should...

Lurking out by the river at night, in the shadows, you can feel the book in your hands.  In fact, you can actually see that the book is there in your hands.  What you can't do is read the book.  You need a goodly amount of light to read a book, daylight or a nice bright lantern or maybe one of the Water Mages' brilliant spells.  There are two such bright lanterns out in front of the brothel across the street.

You imagine yourself dragging an empty barrel from the brewery to the entrance of The Great Wide Open and sitting there for a pleasant evening's read.  The picture in your mind is just strange enough.  The entertainers might appreciate having an ex-constable diligently bettering his education out front.  The patrons might consider it a sign of a classy joint (in Edge?  Fat chance).  More likely, bouncers would chase you off.  You could try reading the book *inside* the brothel.  There was often some sort of burlesque type show going on and you figure you could find a nice bright lantern someplace.  Of course, you wouldn't be able to keep an eye out for the pretty girl, and that was the whole point.

All this imagining has brought an uncommon clarity to your mind.  You can...

A) Forget about the book for now, tuck it back in your coat, and watch the street.

B) Set up in front of the Great Wide Open where everyone can see you and openly read the book while glancing up from time to time to see if the girl returns to snatch her dropped property back from you.  (And thank you for saving her life, of course.)

C) Forget about the girl for now and find a place (a bar, brothel, or maybe a detective's office) to read the book.