(D6, LA - EE) A little birdy told me... (Job thread)

[Cyprian Kircheis]

Cyprian had gotten to work earlier that afternoon. The city gossip rag wasn't telling everything, and everyone wanted to know more of the comings and goings. This gave him an in for jink. In less than a week he'd rubbed shoulders with some of the bigger names of this society. Though he might not have known it at the time, it didn't take long for enlightenment to find him. And if one factol can count on his discretion, so could another. Today two would benefit at once.

He spent the time slot acting as a negotiator for both parties. And thanks to his canny, an agreement was reached that both could accept with a smile. Each believing they'd come out with the better deal. A job well done indeed. He pocketed the take.

Afterwards he ordered an ale and relaxed for a bit. Just people watching.

____________________
Job Hunting - Info Brokering | 1d20+6 ⇒ 25
Job Hunting - Info Brokering (Payout) | 1d12 ⇒ 12

[Cyprian Kircheis]

Between the clink of glasses and the smoke of pipes, Cyprian found himself at home. And with time to drink, and time to smoke. He pulled out his journal and got to reading. As he did It occurred to him that he'd never once chronicled his history. After all much of it had alluded him his whole life. Only now, thanks to Akh, those memories long repressed were at the forefront of his thoughts. With that in mind he got to writing.


Rimetrail, 430 AR - He wakes screaming to see his dead mother amidst the fallen leaves of early Winter. The bite marks on her neck and the surrounding vista told him her story. She was some Vampire lord's cattle no doubt, and the embroidery on his blanket suggests the house of Dragonson. She died giving birth.

Nuns found him and took him into their care. It was they that raised him all of those years ago. From infancy to childhood. He hadn't been the first Dhampir they'd cared for, and he had had a life and love inside those halls. It was likely as close to pleasance as one might find in Midgard. But like everything else that time became uprooted by war.

Springmelt, 441 AR - Raiders torch the monastery. It's as horrible a scene as one might expect. Enough so that he lost all memory of it in time. Keeping only the darkest fragments to remind him that home and comfort are cinders.

Later that same month he fell in with Goat of the Woods worshipers. Yet despite their choice of worship, they're good to him. They share their food, teach him how to survive, put him to work, and give him a place around the fire. They tell stories of mischief and darker plans. Teach him about the stars, the state of Midgard. And as he grows he comes to understand that darkness about them. He even learns to commune with the darkness and find comfort in it.

Sowing, 442 AR - It started with a pan-pipe he was gifted. The cultists instantly recognized his knack for music. They taught him how to play the darker melodies, encouraged him to take up the bagpipes, to learn how to play the drums, in time the lute. On several occasions he acted as the signal with his trumpet. He enchanted robbery marks with his playing.

Thunders, 445 AR - Then at the end of spring three years later he began an apprenticeship with a renowned Kobold bard. From there he rounded out his education. Even managed to become enrolled in the Bard's College three years afterwards. In the year 448 at the age of 18. It was a very good year.


He chuckled as he added his history. One by one, date by date. Time passed as he did, patrons came and went, his pipe went out and cooled. As he repacked it he thought back to three years ago when he met Mysti.


Goldflower, 482 AR - A chance meeting of likeminded adventurers at the Moon & Owl Tavern, Zobeck. Perhaps it hadn't been the most auspicious of starts. But it was a happy time for him. Friends found, connections forged. Later that year he and Mysti had their first tryst, and by winter they're dating. Afterwards for two years, very nearly three, he'd had a home again.

Ides of Last Leaf, 485 AR - Then Strahd von Zarovich upended his life.


He sighed as he filled in the rest. Now here he is at the age of 55. Completely unsure of the date barely sure of the time. All he is sure of is that everything is wrong. All of it. This plane, Mysti, even him. All wrong.

He looks at his new timeline and laughs. 'Gods the irony! What's the point of record keeping? Time is completely out of sync, I've no way of knowing if I've aged at all.' At that thought he closed his journal and relit his pipe. 'Well, this is my home now so I should probably make the best of it. Or at the very least learn the date and time.'

There's a small chuckle as he inhales the last connection he has to Midgard. And like his time and place there, it too slowly burns to cinders.

/Scene