1: Aria

[vladtaltos]

Night falls on the city of Florence. Tonight’s mission has led you into the slums of The Maze, a neglected network of narrow, unnamed streets with alleys spiderwebbing from them in all directions. It’s a violent area rife with crime, decrepit apartment buildings, and shattered spirits. The inhabitants are all manner of hoodlums, drifters, and goblinkin that would slice your throat for a crumb of bread, or for the bloody amusement of watching you die.

Such clusters of ignominy have been cleansed in recent years under Medicini’s rule, but some, like scars from a bad case of pox, refuse to go away. It is in one such place you, Black Dahlia, find yourself.

You’re on the hunt for Benedetto, a thief, racketeer, and skin-broker. He’s not an Azzuri, but he operates on Azzuri ground. He’s been warned, but continues his activities in defiance, giving the middle-finger to the bosses. Your task is to protect your guild’s name. For a man that’s been warned, you know what must be done.

The avenue is dark, the air hot, sticky, and weighs on you like a vice. With careful steps, you sidestep murky puddles, coming to an intersection of alleys between three tenement buildings. All is quiet except for the occasional patter of noise within one of the units.



This you know about Benedetto: he’s slim, athletic, short---about five-five---slight, one-hundred twenty pounds, and good with his dual short swords. He also may have a bodyguard if he’s expecting trouble. It’s safe to assume he’s expecting trouble. He knows the price of defiance, but seems to be welcoming it. Maybe that causes you concern. Maybe it doesn’t.

A bang and a clatter directs your attention down one alley. You skirt to the building’s edge and peek around a corner, finding a path littered with trash and a mangy dog sniffing along the ground. It looks down one alley, and in a flash is gone, running off to the west.

Down the opposite alley, a violin begins to be played in one of the units. A beautiful melody drifts out of an open window, a stark contrast to the filth and ugliness from which it is born.

This network of dim, narrow paths is one of the many mini-mazes that form the large knot that is The Maze. Alleyways shoot off to all sides (northeast, northwest, east, west, southeast, southwest) of this skinny, dirty road that runs north-south.

Benedetto is here tonight, somewhere, conducting business. That’s what the Azzuri informant told you, and that informant has never been wrong.

Of course, there’s a first time for everything.

[julie]

Benedetto!? Some people never listen.

Which way to turn? Or should I just stay put and wait for the sound of footsteps? No, I wouldn’t hear them with the violin playing, but the noise may work to my advantage.

She checks her hand crossbow, making sure it’s loaded, and ready to fire. She stands at the intersection of all the alleys. Decisions, decisions. She wishes she knew more tracking techniques.

She considers climbing to a rooftop to get a lay of the land. Maybe that vantage point will reveal furtive shadows moving along the alleys. No, save that for later.

First, look for clues. The music? No. The dog? Yes. Something attracted the dog. Did it see someone? Smell someone? It ran west.

Dahlia creeps over to the western alley, sticking to the wall. She peers around the corner, trying to spot the dog. If all seems clear, she heads down the alley, west. Her right hand holds the hand-crossbow in front of her. Her left hand rests on the pommel of her rapier.

(Poison has been applied to the first bolt in the hand crossbow and to the rapier. The vial of poison is now empty.)

[vladtaltos]

You ease down the alley, and hazard a glance around the corner to the west. Garbage overflows out of a bin that’s been forgotten or ignored by sanitation crews.

The dog is scrounging for its supper, scratching and licking at a discarded basket that once held oily fish strips--the odor is unmistakable. It’s high summer, and the stench is gut-wrenching. The heat and lack of a breeze holds the scent in place with an angry fist.

As you near the dog, it spares a glance your way, but that’s all. A glance. It turns back, hungry, focusing on its find. Its mange is serious. Clumps of fur are missing in large patches and small. In all, half of its coat has been lost to the disease. You can see the bones from its ribs through its skin. It has to be starving.

Ahead, the alley continues west for twenty feet before flaring off to the northwest and southwest.

After your next post, roll 3d6

[julie]

Dahlia slowly approaches the dog. She gets as close as she can and kneels next to it (she’ll stop if it growls). She whispers, "You’re a mess, aren’t you? Have you seen anyone out here?"

She reaches into her cloak pocket and retrieves the potion of strength. Unstoppering it, she gently pours it over the dog’s affected areas, rubbing it in with her gloved hands as she does so. She whispers to it, "That should help. Feel better?" 

She looks straight ahead toward both alleys. More decisions. She stands, and makes for the northernmost wall and the northwest alley. She again peeks around the corner, hand-crossbow readied, before walking down it.


13:08, Today: Black Dahlia rolled 14 using 3d6 with rolls of 4,4,6.

[vladtaltos]

The dog’s expression reveals the relief it immediately feels from the potion. He’ll require more attention to become completely healed of his severe case of mange, but for the moment, his discomfort is lessened.



He wags his tail, perhaps for the first time in a very long time, and snuggles you with his muzzle. Before you can stand and move on, the alley becomes darker. The dog’s eyes lift to a space above your head, a low growl bubbling in the back of his throat.

You stand and spin around in one explosive movement, but it’s too late. The fist connects squarely with your face. The blow is so powerful, your head snaps back so forcefully, you feel a spasm at the back of your neck.

Blood erupts from your split lip and busted nose, and sails across the alley along with your hand-crossbow. You’re sent sprawling and roll along the ground. The hand-crossbow clatters to a stop against the wall to your right, fifteen feet away.

When you clear your head your eyes focus on the large, brutish shape a dozen yards in front of you. He’s close to seven-feet tall, has two chewed-up lumps for ears, and a nose that’s been broken so often it has the shape of an eggplant.

His skin has a strange green tint to it. The thug is a Man-Orc. He strides toward you to finish you off, shaking the sting from his massive right hand, the hand that just delivered the blow.

You know who this is. Benedetto’s bodyguard.

Roll d6-1 for Initiative, then state your first round intention. We’ll take this round-by-round for now. Also, at the close of each round, roll another d6.

Dahlia’s Dice Roll: Failed STREETWISE check.

Man-Orc’s Dice roll TO HIT and DAMAGE.
09:37, Today: Man-Orc rolled 7 using 3d6 with rolls of 2, 4, 1 (To-hit)
09:37, Today: Man-Orc rolled 5 using 1d6 (Damage)

You lost 3 ST. You are now at 7 ST.

[julie]

They say blood has a coppery taste to it. The salty-metal fluid filling Dahlia’s mouth now verified such claims.

She spits out a wad of bloody phlegm, and runs her tongue over her teeth to make sure they’re still in place. She had to get her bearings or she’d be finished off in this putrid alley. She wasn’t going to die here at the hands of some pimp’s flunky.

She stood on shaky feet, and withdrew sword and dagger, the comforting ca-ching of steel on metal boosting her confidence.

Whether she wins Init. or not, she’ll pick herself up, draw her weapons, and wait to see the man-orc’s roll. She’ll dodge, counterattack, something. She wasn’t really sure yet. She believed in waiting to the last nanosecond.

15:12, Today: Black Dahlia rolled 3 using 1d6-1 (Init)

[vladtaltos]

Shakily, you get to your feet. The man-monster is on you, another anvil-sized fist comes crashing down toward your skull.

09:06, Today: Man-Orc rolled 8 using 3d6 with rolls of 1,3,4.

[julie]

Dahlia's head was still spinning when she got to her feet. She saw the Man-Orc raise a hand, and clench it into a fist. More on instinct than wits she flung herself out of the way.

12:15, Today: Black Dahlia rolled 10 using 3d6 with rolls of 6,2,2. Dodging. 

[vladtaltos]

You tumble out of the way, successfully dodging the brute's punch. He grunts and curses, but doesn't pause. He lunges forward again, slightly off-balance this time, and comes down with a 12-6 hammerfist...

15:47, Today: Man-Orc rolled 11 using 3d6 with rolls of 4,4,3.

[julie]

There’s still Benedetto, she thought. After this, Benedetto.

She couldn’t expend all her energy fighting his bodyguard. It was time to end this particular fight. Seeing his attack come in clumsy and off-balance, Dahlia drops her sword, freeing one hand to cast her magic. If the spell were true, he would collapse in moments.



09:24, Today: Black Dahlia rolled 11 using 3d6 with rolls of 1, 5, 5 (Sleep spell)

09:24, Today: Black Dahlia rolled 4 using 1d6 (d6 roll)

(Do the arrows in Cristiano's Art Gallery fit my hand-crossbow? If so, I'll buy them.) 

[vladtaltos]

The thug’s swing cuts the air above your head. You duck down, easily avoiding the blow; he stumbles to one side, his attack leaving him momentarily off-balanced. Seizing the moment, you drop your sword and cast your enchantment. A spray of gold dust blossoms from your hand, briefly filling the air before vanishing. With it, some of your life’s energy leaves you (you are now at 4 FT).

Turning around to follow with another ham-fisted assault, the man-orc's legs wobble. His eyes roll and his lids become heavy. He takes another step, stops, then falls backward, cracking the back of his thick skull on the cobbled road.

You now notice loud, snapping barks breaking the humid air. The dog runs circles around your downed adversary, growling, barking and bounding from one side of him to the other.

(Yes, sorry, I should have said “bolts” not arrows. They do fit your hand-crossbow.)

[julie]

Dahlia tries to calm the dog. If Benedetto's bodyguard knew she were here, then Benedetto knew it, too. Still, she didn't need every tenant in these apartments becoming curious by a barking dog, and looking out their windows, seeing her. She strokes his head and speaks soothingly.

Quickly, she moves over to the slumbering Half-Orc. She goes through his pockets for both valuables and other effects. If he had the order to attack her, she wanted to find out who he was. After going through his pockets, she peers around the alley. Somewhere close, Benedetto had to be here, hiding.

[vladtaltos]

The dog is excited and wants to jump into your arms, but you manage to calm him with soothing sounds, giving yourself enough time to go through the man-orc’s pockets. Unfortunately, you find nothing, not even loose copper change, or identification of any sort. Hired muscle, he’s as dumb as he is big, and didn’t so much as bring a weapon to combat his boss’s foe, knowing full-well how skilled that foe would be.

You glance at your surroundings, at the buildings that stretch high above you on all sides. There are a few lit lamps casting their pale yellow light through windows. It’s with some relief you find no faces accompanying that light, spying down on you. As best you can tell, the noise attracted no curious onlookers, but who knows what the shadows hide?

Yes, what do the shadows hide? Roll 3d6.

[julie]

Fight over, Dahlia does what she can to stanch the blood coming from her mouth and nose. Using the end of her cloak she applies direct pressure to her wounds. It was at times like this that she was reminded why she’d left the bloodgame two years ago. Too often it was her blood that was being spilled.

She stoops down and picks up her sword, and sheathes it along with her dagger. Trudging over to the wall where her hand-crossbow came to rest after getting sucker-punched by Benedetto’s monster, she picks it up and makes sure the bolt is still ready to fire. The poison’s still on it; it was near impossible to eliminate once applied, a hellish mix dubbed Demon’s Breath.

Now to find Benedetto. Was he nearby, watching? She looks into the shadows, the darkness, for guidance.

21:05, Today: Black Dahlia rolled 5 using 3d6 with rolls of 3,1,1.

[vladtaltos]

Not a sound betrays Benedetto’s presence. It’s movement---a shadow slightly darker than the rest in this thick soup of shadows---scaling the wall of the tenement building at your two o’clock. Nimble, like a spider, he ascends, seeking the roof. There, it would be much easier for an athletic man to flee the area rather than navigating through the winding alleys and mini-roads of The Maze on the ground.

You deduce a shot from this distance would be difficult due to the dark, the distance, and his movement, but not impossible (DX-4). Remembering it is only the first bolt in your hand-crossbow that’s doused in the dreadful poison, Demon’s Breath, that bolt must be on target.

Some options that would occur to Dahlia:
(1): Chase him. Success depends on pure athleticism.
(2): Navigate The Maze to a point farther down the block, cutting Benedetto off at the most likely building where he’ll make his descent. Success relies on your memory of these specific paths of The Maze and its buildings, and less on athleticism.
(3): The aforementioned shot from the hand-crossbow at the -4 penalty.
(4): Something else entirely.