Sleep Without Rest

"Brazen"

A word that kept tumbling through Aras' thoughts.  Murder victims with the seven pointed star carved defiantly into their chests in the streets of Magnimar, bewitching a Lord Magistrate, doppelgangers of nobles serving up tea and poison.  These were the acts of someone very sure of their own power.  These were the acts of someone flaunting that power in your face...trying to confuse you and make you feel weak.  It was hard to not succumb to those kinds of thoughts at times like this.

The rogue lay in his sleeping bag at their makeshift campsite a few miles outside of Magnimar.  The moon and stars were bright in the sky above.  It was a beautiful summer night and yet he found it difficult to rest.  His problems were compounding by the day.  Cults, demons, goblins and now the dead mage was not so dead after all.

Luckily he had convinced the others to take the inexplicably kind warning of Trial to vacate the city as soon as possible.  With the bounty on their heads, every assassin in the city would have soon been climbing over themselves to get into their windows.  Seeing Trial with the blade over Garadin's throat put that into a very clear perspective.  Obviously they had been spotted at the market, probably trailed to the estate and then the Kaijitsu manor had been methodically cased day and night to detect patterns and capabilities of those inside.  It's what Aras would have done.  Always go in with a plan.  Always know what you are up against.  That was the most frustrating thing about this whole debacle....he had no clue what he was up against.  There was no pattern, no clear motivation.  Sacrifices of victims tied to old stories of sins.  For what purpose?

His companions frustrated him.  Why was he talking the mage into studying up on the cult and its symbols?  Why was he trying to talk the priest out of selling the masks which would tie them to the scene of the murder in the sawmill?  What had come over them?  Was it fear?  Was it the thrill of the adventure that had blinded them to caution and composure?  They wanted to act on impulse.  Acting on impulse gets you killed.  Aras very much wanted to continue living despite the world, it seemed, conspiring against him.

Was he actually turning into a hero?  The constant din of his subconscious whispering "flee and abandon this lot" was quieting by the day.  He had grown to enjoy their company.  He had actually held his breath when he saw Trial with the knife a the cleric's throat.

The rogue drifted off into an uncomfortable sleep; a sleep filled with blank faced horrors and ancient evils.  He would awake to find himself more tired than when he laid down hours before.

A stained blade

The dagger was small, slender and jet black.  A circular onyx stone was inset at the base of the hilt.  A narrow channel ran the length of the blade.  Aras knew what that channel could be used for.  The hit squad in his guild would create all manner of vile concoctions....elixers that would sap one's strength, mind or render the victim unconscious.  They would dress the blade in the poison and then quickly and painfully take down their target.  This blade however, was more interesting than anything he had seen in the guild.

With a practiced hand and a quick flick of his wrist he launched the blade.  It sank into the wood of the opposite wall in his tiny room at the Rusty Dragon.  Within a fraction of a second the dagger had magically returned to his palm.

"No stained blade to retrieve or leave as evidence" Aras thought, smiling to himself.

He was in the midst of adjusting and organizing his new gear.  The demon's dagger fit perfectly in his wrist sheath.  This was a dagger for special occasions, he thought.  It's size also made it the perfect weapon to sneak into places where weapons would not be permitted.

He sharpened his two other new blades.  The silver dagger he had pulled from the crypt was beautiful and deadly sharp.  He paired it with a new cold iron dagger that he had purchased that morning.  Both blades had been built by master craftsmen.  They fit comfortably in the sheaths running across his chest.  He adjusted the straps on his new leather armor.  His old set was worn, dirty and scarred from the acid of the goblin creature.  It was also guild make.  A keen eye would have picked up on that eventually.  His new leathers were beautifully made and would no longer give insight into his past affiliations.  The armor fit perfectly and felt much lighter than his old set.  He stood in the center of his room and in a flash executed a perfect standing backflip.  With catlike grace his soft footfall made little sound.

Aras smiled again.

Though not without difficulties, this trip had certainly been prosperous.  He even managed to negotiate a property from the mayor.  It sat right on the waterfront.  His part of town.  His kind of people.  The cleric had been a minor annoyance during the whole ordeal, but Aras paid it little mind.  Stubborn, zealous thinking is what makes them clerics in the first place, Aras mused.  As long as the man didn't overtly get in the way of his plans,  Aras had no problem with him.  Aras was growing fond of Skender and Cray.  Skender always had the look of someone with a scheme in mind.  That was something that Aras could appreciate.  Cray was brutishly efficient at what he did, but there was more to the half orc than he first thought.

Aras was born with the vision of a hawk and the ears of a mouse.  He noticed things that others did not.  Several times while looking in Cray's direction he had noticed odd goings on.  At first he thought them tricks of his mind because given a second glance, whatever he had seen before was gone.  He couldn't put words or images to what he thought he saw.  It had happened enough to see a pattern.  There was something going on there, but the rogue could not puzzle it out.

"Intriguing" thought Aras.

Just one more door...

Perhaps he had pushed them a bit too far.  He could still smell the musty stench of rot from the skeletal corpse that had fallen on him.  He flashed back to the memory of the horrific creature and its blood curdling scream from behind that last door.  Aras was sure that he had never run that fast before in his life.  As he fled, the sound of his boots hitting the stone floor was drowned out only by the pounding of his own heartbeat.

He remembered everything in vivid detail...the mutant, three-armed goblin and his toxic breath, the glass covered corpse in the glassworks.  All of it was so exhilarating.  He had never felt this alive collecting the guild's protection money in Magnamar.  This was living.  This was freedom.  This was the adventure that the old scoundrels in the guild hall would tell stories about.

Perhaps though...he had pushed his companions a bit too far.  They had warned him that their spells and divine magic had been nearly exhausted for the day.  He had urged them on, thinking that a pile of gold and salvation lay just a door away.  He was sure that just around the corner he might find some long forgotten ancient treasure that could fix all of his problems.  He could pay off the law in Magnimar and live comfortably for awhile.  The thought of a life without having to constantly look over his shoulder, a life without a cover story on top of a cover story.  The reality was, however, instead of finding a life changing treasure behind that last door, they had found a terrifying creature set on killing them all.  The irony was not lost on Aras.

"Perhaps I will need to listen to their council a bit more if I wish to survive out on my own" Aras thought to himself.  In the guild it was easy.  Most of the thinking was done for you.  They pointed you in a direction and gave you explicit orders which were to be obeyed.  Here things were a bit different.  By opening that door he could have gotten them all killed.  Though powerful, each of his companions was fragile in a way: Skender with his flimsy cloth robes, Craylin with his simple mind and Garadin with his belief in 'doing the right thing.'  Even Aras had fallen in the battle in the Glassworks.  If not for the priest's healing he may have bled out on that dirty stone floor.

They all needed each other.  It was a hard realization for Aras to accept.  He was an orphaned child, kidnapped, sold into slavery and then forced into a life of thievery.  Trust does not come easy.  Connections and friends are weapons which may be used against you.  Maybe though, he had been wrong all along.  Or just maybe he was right at the time, but the times had changed.

As Aras finally stepped out of the Glassworks and into the fresh air of Sandpoint, he took a deep breath.  He had learned many lessons today.  If he did not adapt, if he clung to his old ways of thinking....he would die.

"Today is the first day in the life of Aras of Sandpoint" the rogue said to himself.  He fell into marching order with his companions and occasionally gave a watchful glance back over his shoulder as they made their way back to the inn.

Free bread

The following takes place as Aras is walking to the Temple of Desna to speak with the Father.  He set out to the Temple in an effort to find out more about the crypt robbery and the skeletons they had faced the day before.  Aras believes that the goblin attack on the town and the crypt robbery are part of some bigger plot.  The rogue is trying to sort out his thoughts on this place, his new companions and what he might do to make the most of this fresh start.

"Boar hunting..."

"What an absolutely phenomenal waste of time."  

Aras wasn't sure what was more unbelievable, boar hunting with a noble or the fact that he was called to a meeting with a mayor.  It was almost impossible to reconcile how much his circumstances and fortune had changed in such a short time.

As he stood in a pool of the mage's blood, his mind racing for a way to extricate himself from the botched hit, he could have never imagined that within a month's time that he would be cheered as a town hero and called to meetings with the sheriff and mayor.

"Meeting with the sheriff" Aras let slip a wry smile as he thought on that for a moment.  

"Talk about asking the fox to guard the hen house"

Still, despite all of his cynicism, he had grown to appreciate the town of Sandpoint.  It was far from Magnimar and all of its baggage.  He had no history here, no obligations or reputation (for better or worse).  It was a fresh start.

Just the other day, he was offered free bread by a gracious citizen.  A simple gesture like that had shaken him to the core.  He had never been given anything for free before.  He had to earn every scrap of nothing he ever had....or take it.  Now, suddenly, he was faced with a community.  He wondered if his parents had grown up in a place like this?  They died when he was so young, he couldn't remember their faces or stories anymore.  Just passing wisps of memories and images that troubled him from time to time.

Even with his new found sense of appreciation for the town's more kindly aspects, he had wasted no time in finding the people and places he felt most comfortable.  The den of thieves on the waterfront reminded him of what he knew.  He understood these people.  He understood their motivations; greed and lust.  Those kind of impulses were predicable...comfortable.  He had grown up with so little exposure to kindness and charity that it unnerved him.  Down on the waterfront, negotiating with Jubril, he began to understand that he might have found a way to take a little bit of his former life and skills and still find a way to make a fresh start here.

"No jobs in the city," Aras vowed to himself.  Of course he had already slightly broken his own rule when he looted the merchant carts in the square, but then again when do thieves follow rules?  He gave the answer that his old mentor, Brim, had taught him:

"Thieves follow the rules when they are being watched.  When no one is watching there are no rules."

Aras smiled again as he though of Brim.  

"Hopefully the old scoundrel had found some other apprentice to run his numbers racket and collect his protection money for him," Aras thought to himself.

The idea of Brim heading out into the city and collecting himself made Aras chuckle.  Despite everything, he still remembered Brim fondly.  In an environment like the guild, there were never any true displays of kindness and yet Brim had done far more for Aras than he was obligated to do.  That is a close as you will get to having a friend in such a place.

"The cleric keeps bugging us for a story...an explanation." Aras mused.  In truth, he had avoided the topic because for once it was nice to not have a story, to not have a cover.  The other reason he had been avoiding it was because a shared cover would link him even more closely with this group of characters.  He had avoided such connections like the plague in his past life.

"No connections, no obligations, no one to rat you out to save themselves"  Brim had lectured him.

Brim's advice was correct, but it was advice relevant to a certain set of circumstances.  In order to make the most of this new life, he might have to go against some of the old lessons.  Aras finished that thought as he arrived at the door of the temple.  He knocked on the door slowly and softly.

"I'd like to speak to the Father, is he in?"

A Parlor Chair, a Scar and Freedom

As Aras sat back in the antique chair he was hit with a miasma of must and cheap perfume.  The fabric covered springs of the seat squeaked slightly as he leaned back and making even that almost inaudible sound caused him to wince.  Every fiber of his being was in 'lay low' mode.  The job in Magnimar had gotten out of hand very quickly.  In just a few days he had gone from running jobs for one of Magnimar's most influential guilds to now sitting in an aging parlor chair in the lone brothel in the small city of Sandpoint.

Aras eyed the door and the movements of the patrons....watching.  His eyes always betrayed him.  He couldn't keep them still even for a moment.  He sized up the madame and the few patrons who had walked in since he had arrived.  He studied everyone.  He remembered the lessons of his mentor, Brim:  

"Always watch the way they carry themselves.  Look to what they are watching with their own eyes.  Look at their shoes, their fingernails.  Always look for the subtle clues that will tip the scales in your favor."

"Wise words" thought Aras, but Brim was miles to the south, no doubt four or twelve glasses of wine into the evening in the guild hall, not stuck watching the mage's back in some two copper whore house.

The madame, no doubt looking to supplement the evening's income turned to look at Aras.

"Are you sure we cannot offer you some relaxation this evening?  I have many fine girls who are free at the moment.  For a weary traveler such as yourself I might even give you a discounted price?"

"No thank you" Aras replied and then held a gaze with her until she looked down at the counter and occupied herself with other distractions.

It's not that he wouldn't mind releasing some of his frustration on one of Sandpoint's finest.  Some of the girls had few enough miles on them that they were still attractive....it was that he didn't want to be distracted for even a moment until he felt a better sense of just how intense the heat was back in Magnimar.  The target had been connected.  Besides, chasing after a woman was what got him entangled in this whole mess to begin with.  

As Aras sat he mindlessly practiced secretly releasing the dagger in his wrist sheath.  

"Practice Aras.  The repetition will one day save your life" Brim would tell him.

As the dagger slid up and down he could feel it run over the scar on the inside of his wrist.

It hit him.  For a moment he was almost in a daze.  He hadn't realized until just now, until he had remembered the scars where the shackles had cut into his flesh.

This was the first time he had been free since he was five years old.  No shackles.  No guild watching his every move.

He had been kidnapped by slavers fifteen years ago, then given to the thieve's guild to pay off the slaver's debts.  He had done menial labor for the guild, until Brim took him on as his apprentice.  Even then he always knew that the guild was watching his every move in Magnimar.  So many times he had considered fleeing the city and trying to find a life on his own, but he knew the guild wold not let one of their prized pupils escape so easily.  As he completed each new job for the guild, life had gotten easier for him....until he stopped even contemplating escape.  He had reconciled himself to a life as a thief and assassin.  Until now.  

Aras smiled very slightly and shifted in the chair to lean forward.

He had heard stories of old rogues in the guild telling tales of the coin they had made as freelance adventurers in the early days.  Surely stealing from some long lost crypt was more exhilarating than poisoning some low level bureaucrat who had gotten out of line?  To be his own man?  To answer to no one but himself?

Though the mage assassination job was done through the guild, they wanted no part of the immediate ramifications.  Aras' temporary exile might be a blessing in disguise.

Now if he could just keep his eclectic group of companions alive long enough to get rich...

Aras Character Sheet

Name: Aras

Male Human (Varisian) Rogue 7
True Neutral 
Init: +9
Perception: +11 (+13 vs. traps)

Virtue: Zeal
Vice: Greed

AC: 19
Touch AC: 16
Flat-footed AC: 14
Hitpoints: 70

Saves:
Fort: +5
Ref:  +11
Will: +6
Trap Sense: +2 Bonus to saves vs. traps

Speed: 30 ft.

Melee: 
+1 Dagger (War Razor): +12 (1d4+1/19-20/x2)
+1 Cold Iron Returning Dagger: +12 (1d4+1/19-20/x2)
Masterwork Cold Iron Dagger: +12 (1d4/19-20/x2) x4
Masterwork Silversheen Dagger: +12 (1d4/19-20/x2) x4
Normal Dagger: +11 (1d4/19-20/x2) x4

Dual Wielding:
Main Hand: 
+1 Dagger (War Razor): +10 (1d4+1/19-20/x2)
Off Hand:
+1 Cold Iron Returning Dagger: +10 (1d4+1/19-20/x2)

Armor: 
Leather Armor +1

Magic Items:
Thistletop Amulet: +1 to Saves, False Life 1x Per Day
Belt of Incredible Dexterity +2
Ring of Protection +1
Ring of Feather Fall
Cloak of Elvenkind

Special Attacks: 
Sneak attack +4d6

Stats:
Str: 10
Dex: 19 (21)
Con: 14
Int: 13
Wis: 12
Cha: 10

Base Atk: +5
CMB: +5
CMD: 21

Feats:  
Innocent Blood (Story Feat), Toughness, Weapon Finesse, Two Weapon Fighting, Iron Will, Improved Initiative

Rogue Talents: 
Weapon Training (Dagger), Offensive Defense, Trap Spotting, Poison Use

Traits: 
Orphaned, Vagabond Child (urban): (Disable Device)

Skills:
Acrobatics (7): +15
Bluff (7): +10
Climb (2): +5
Disable Device (7): +21
Escape Artist (7): +15
Intimidate (2): +7
Perception (7): +11 (+13 to locate traps)
Sense Motive (7): +15
Sleight of Hand (7): +15 (+17 to oppose the Perception check of someone observing or frisking you regarding items in the sheath)
Stealth (7): +20
Survival (5): +10

Languages: Common, Goblin, Varisian

Gear: Masterwork Thieve's Tools, Masterwork Backpack with Adventuring Gear, 5 Days Rations, 3 Waterskins, Light Coin

Special Abilities:

Sneak Attack: +4d6 damage if you flank your target or your target is flat-footed.

Trapfinding: +3 Gain a bonus to find or disable traps, including magical ones.

Evasion: If you succeed at a Reflex save for half damage, you take none instead.

Trap Sense: Bonus on AC and Reflex saves against traps improves by +1.

Innocent Blood: When slay Intelligent being, gain +1 to attack and CL checks for 1 min.

Offensive Defense: Sneak Attack grants +1 Bonus to AC for each sneak attack die rolled

Trap Spotter: Whenever you come within 10' of a trap, GM secretly rolls to detect it for you

Uncanny Dodge: Retain Dexterity bonus to AC when flat footed