CHOCOLATE DESTINY

Port Enarou: a city overwhelmed.

It’s hard to believe that only a fortnight ago, this settlement was a rustic port town by the sea, sustained by fishing and trade.
Rumors arrived of the terrible wars that erupted simultaneously in faraway lands.
Tuong invaded by the supposedly pacifist Abatos Republic.
The state of Fei wracked with civil war.
The tyrants of the western desert on the move again.
The Geistrule Dragonflight descending from their mountaintops to consume the world in acid.

Town criers took these as signs of the end times. The fishermen took it all with a grain of salt.

Then the first ship arrived, a huge galley carrying a human cargo. “The first wave”, they would be called later. Over a hundred folk from all over the world, with nothing but the clothes on their backs to their name. Their hysterics added to the many rumors, but also lent a measure of credibility to them. War had indeed broken out, but the northlands had remained untouched. The promise of safety here brought a second galley, and a third, until finally the word of haven was out, and southerners began to flock here in droves.

The uneasy peace between the kingdom of Jaquim and its two neighboring city-states on the northern continent has held for over a century. On the maps, Enarou was labeled as part of Jaquim but practically speaking is politically detached, with miles of wilderness separating it from the southernmost Jaquim stronghold.

Thus no help arrived to stem the never-ending influx of ships, coming day and night, spilling out hordes of desperate refugees from southron lands. In the course of days the town’s population swelled to three times its former size, putting an enormous drain on resources. But by the time the outclassed town council convened, the granary’s reserves had been exhausted. They could no longer afford to close down the harbor, lest they starve themselves in the process.

When the streets became too crowded, the most destitute, helpless, and plain unlucky were forced out into the surrounding countryside. What began as temporary refugee camps hugging the walls of the port proper quickly became sprawling shantytowns of makeshift huts and bonfires, both magical and mundane. Diseases, starvation and infighting run rampant in these lice-ridden hives, but for every one transient that dies or leaves, four more come fresh off the boat.

You can’t walk five steps without running into one or more of the multitude of street beggars. Some merely sit against a wall, arms outstretched. Others attempt to sell their bodies to passersby, though only the most desperate or depraved would take up such offers. Berglinder, Abatosian, Tuonggi, even halflings, all meander aimlessly from one meal to the next. With so many warm bodies, job pickings are slim to none. Caravans and ships require coin for their limited space, and there are always those who can pay more. The situation’s as muddy as the oozing, overused roads.

But one thing is clear to you: It’s time to give this place the laugh.

It’s the afternoon of an overcast day. Attracted by the smell of hot food, you have congregated in what passes for a soup kitchen in the slums. You have long since cast away the shame of doing so, as even the well-to-do have been reduced to a sorry state in this overpopulation crisis. The shack is a tad larger than the surrounding ones, a hollow pile of driftwood and pieces of ship hull. The white of clouds shows through several small gaps in the roof. It would suck if it started raining.

There actually appears to be “decent” food in this place. A pot rests upon an uncontrolled flame. Something floats in the bubbling mixture. You squint your eyes in disbelief. It’s real meat!

Grimy rag-wrapped bodies shuffle into the shack along with you. Its only by the look in their eyes that you can tell they aren’t the walking dead.
The cook, a haggard balding man in faded green clothing, looks up in alarm.
There is no formation or order to this unruly mass. Vagrants and homeowners alike eye each other nervously. There’s clearly not enough to go around, and who knows when the next opportunity will present itself?
No one has moved yet. [Will you?]

Lil' Prince Ali pushes his way through the rag-wrapped masses, leading a squawking horde of men and animals towards the vat of bubbling meat-juice.

He pushes up his sunglasses with one hand while grabbing his crotch in the other, and screams out loud in a grating voice.

"WHAT'S HAPPENIN'??!!"
[Shining Swagg activates]

A dark, bearded and bespectacled figure in a brown-green overcoat and wide hat approaches Ali.  Between puffs of a pipe he growls "What is happening is the clamoring of the masses to feed on the only meal they will most likely get this day, a paltry stew barely enough to fill the belly of one man, let alone many.  I know you, or rather of you, as my knowledge of nobles and their ilk is exhaustive.  What I need to know is what you, Ali, Vroopmaster and curvebaron, swagmonger and krunkbearer, are doing in Enarou, and why you have brought your corespondents and stooges and lackeys with you."

(I make a knowledge-nobility check to learn more about Prince Ali and his motives)

(Your knowledge check automatically succeeds)

No sooner do the words leave his mouth that the bespectacled figure is struck dumb with awe. His pipe falls to the floor.
There is no question of who this man is.
He is ALI, Star of the Sunset Dunes, Crown Prince of Crunk, third in line to the throne of the mighty Swaggafid dynasty. Even the far eastern isles of Abatoi know of his legendary quest to take the heads of a hundred kings.

Though dulled by seawater, Lil' Prince Ali's strong yet sensuous armor retains a luster that puts most lanterns to shame.
At his cry everyone else turns to behold his sculpted physique and diamond studded necklace, and they too are struck dumb with awe. Nothing moves in the shack save the eyes of the stunned onlookers, mesmerized by the golden gleam of his gyrating metal codpiece.

A young adult donning a worn black leather jacket and a sheathed long-sword tightly strapped to his knapsack lurks in the outer rings of the impossibly dense crowd. He keeps his matte black hair short and his olive skin gives cause to believe he is from the southernmost reaches of the continent. He makes an effort to slide through the scarce space in between refugees when he impulsively turns towards the source of the ruckus in the soup kitchen. The swag and irresistible aura pulls his attention away from the warm meal and battles his mind for control over his next decision, to sneak ahead and take a meal while food still remains or to approach the source of this unparalleled swagger.

Lil' Prince Ali downs the last of the liquor in his flask, staggers over to the bespectacled figure, patting him on the shoulder, and struggles to speak.
"Errbody in the club right now...errbody...errbody..."

A sudden belch erupts from Ali's mouth, and shoots a nasty odor towards the bespectacled figure's face. Ali looks around and gestures to the awestruck onlookers.
"...If you're standing around you need to GET THE F/UC UP OUTTA HERE."

Ali catches his breath. A long pause...

"...cause we boutta get TURNT."
He sighs and slumps over, his duty done. He snatches the cooking ladle from the balding man by the vat and pours himself a bowl.

"Motherfucker, that storm was a bitch. This muhfukin adventure is turning out to be a piece of shit, nawmean?"

A cloaked figure makes their way to the food dispensary, briefly they are mesmerized by the prince's swag, but the growling of their stomach breaks the swags hold and they continue on. When they get to the dispensary they take a good look at the food being served.

(Making a dual knowledge check of cooking and flora to check if the food is safe to eat)

As Ali sighs the young adult is able to assert control over his body once again. It is obvious to him that if he does not hurry the soup pot will be empty, and so too his stomach. He awkwardly power steps through swarm of refugees and Coterie members applying some force to force through the densest parts of the crowd. Once he breaks through the crowd he can see the balding man and his pot of meat stew. Despite the dingy and ratty nature of his surroundings and the high likelihood that the pot has not been properly washed amidst the filth and overpopulation the vessel holding his next meal looks absolutely divine in his eyes. He shamelessly hurries to the pot and takes a serving. He consumes the stew straight from the bowl before even stepping away from the stand. After downing half the contents of the bowl he pauses gorging himself to look around and register his surroundings. Naturally, Ali in his overwhelmingly swag and opulent clothing stands out from everything else. So opulent is Ali that the young adult is intimidated by his presence, so he steps off to the side to continue observing the Lil' Prince.

[Shining Swagg deactivated]
(@kaede: As the soup's primary ingredient is meat, your flora knowledge does nothing. You determine that consuming the substances within is nonlethal.)

Lil' Prince Ali's retainers take up protective positions around the soup. They are unarmed save for Ali himself, a curved scimitar at his belt.
Despite this, the hungry and confused people start filing out of the shack in disappointment.
Left behind is the bespectacled scholar and a well dressed young man with soppy black hair who stands in the middle of the shack, an uncomprehending glaze in his eyes.

The cloaked figure and the olive skinned young man also huddle near the pot.

The bald cook struggles to form coherent words. "I...what...you guys...?"

The young man with soppy black hair at once snaps out of his trance once the soup had already been almost emptied, whatever he was pondering it was apparently of little consequence.

With a renewed attention to the surroundings, Lee Gray as he is known and would make no effort to conceal, noticed the presence of the newly present individuals.

Somehow he recognized that this may be some sort of fated encounter, whatever it was that deluded him into thinking so not even he could fathom.

So he began to speak, directed at no one in particular and yet at everyone who was willing to listen.

"Good day my fellows, it seems that we are all unfortunately stuck in a place that we all probably did not expect to be this bad. As fellow outsiders, we are on the same  boat, so to speak, so may I suggest a course of action?"

Without waiting for anybody to reply, Gray flashed a crooked smile, and continued.

"Seeing as our fellow arrivals far outnumber the townspeople, and that there are little resources to go around, I suggest we instigate a... change in leadership for this town, and grab what we can."

The cloaked figure turns their head to the new man, what little can be see of this person is a tanned feminine face with a few tufts of blonde hair visible and most notably a pair of red eyes, and contemplates on what he just said for a few moments, before shaking their head. "I would just like to eat and a place to sleep. This village has little to offer." The person replies in a soft tone.

"W-wait!" The young adult lets out half a laugh and sardonically addresses the cloaked androgynous figure: "Pfffbt, this fellow just voices plans for insurrection and your only response is that the village is lacking? What, if this village was abundant in riches and pleasantries that you would join him in a vicious and uncalled for takeover?"

The figures clenches their fist, visibly tensing. "...take that back." They say in almost inaudibly.

The young adult hesitates. "No ... no! I- I'm sorry. I did not mean you any insult. But c'mon, you responded to this man's "grand aspirations" as if t'were the case that his goals are ordinary, or at least not suspect. Any other would balk at his announcement ... save maybe that one over there. Truly, I beg forgiveness if I have offended." With his last comment he nods his head and makes a facial expression to convey that he is referring to Ali.

Gray is visibly glad to have met a compatriot in the sword bearing young man.

"I'm glad someone sees it my way, although we need more than two people to do anything at this point," Gray nods towards the hooded blonde, "or three if you've changed your mind my friend."

Seeing as the others still haven't finished their meager meal however, Gray takes leave from his fellows to do a bit of preparation.

"Well, take your time chaps, seeing as I already ate I shall bring it upon myself to explore the town and... gauge the situation."

Before he walks outside though, Gray makes sure to change into some less conspicuous, and noticeably dirtier clothing. In a "brief" stroll around the worst part of town, Gray starts spreading rumors to the desolate foreigners about how the townspeople are refusing to share their resources, in an effort to rouse up discontent, before returning once more to the soup kitchen to rest.

(Speaking check for sowing [more] discontent.)

"Apology accepted...and on this unpleasantness, lets just say that a soldier doesn't disobey orders." With a grim look on their face, the blonde turns back to the soup examining it again.

(Knowledge cooking to see what the ingredients are)

(@kaede: you determine that the broth was created using bone fragments from a variety of creatures, including pig, dog, and sheep. The meat appears to be from a kind of bird you've never seen, or at least never cooked before.)

"Hey, wait!" the cook exclaims, but Lee Gray is already out the door, or he would be if the shack had one. "Why does this always happen to me..." He sighs and starts eating the remainder of the soup straight from the pot.

Gray gets mixed results from his travels around the shanty town.

"I knew it! I knew they were hoarding something!"

"What townspeople? All I see is more foreigner trash, for miles around."

"Yeah, but if that's true, what can we do about it?"

"Why the fuck do you care, ya suited-up Abatos scum? You're prolly hiding stuff yeself!"

It seems there is already discontent aplenty among these folk, although maybe not the kind you expected.

Gray is on way back to the soup kitchen when suddenly a small mass slams into him at top speed, almost knocking him off his feet.
"Oof!" a high pitched voice squeaks.
He recovers to the sight of a young girl in a tattered dress, no older than twelve. She puts a hand to her big fish-like lips.
"Oh, sorry mister! I'll be more careful next time!" She turns and walks away.

With Lee Gray gone and Lil' Prince Ali momentarily indisposed by his liquor the young adult turns back to the balding man serving out precious sustenance.

"Mr., does fortune have it that I could be helped to a second bowl of stew? It is not my mission to be greedy but I am still hungry and malnourished. Since I am one of the few charity cases still present it seemed likely that there would be food to spare. If something must be given, I could be easily convinced to pay meager sum if it meant I could eat." He squints and cuts off any answer to his previous query: "Hold a moment, why did you ask us "what...you guys?" ?"

"Man, this kinda thing happens every day. I start making a little something for myself, and all the bums rush in. Then it's either a free for all, or some wannabe warlord comes in with his gang and takes everything for hisself. But this is the first time nobody started a fight."
The man rubs the bald part of his head.
"You said you were willing to pay? I'll take 5 gold rooks for the bowl you just had, and another 5 if you want seconds."

Ali downs the rest of his soup, and wipes the last trickle of meat juice off his mouth.

"Shieeet, this soup tastes worse than my cooking. And trust me, I ain't never eating that shit again. 10 years of boiled desert beasts can make a man crazy."

He stoops down to pick up the dropped pipe, and gently places it in the bearded man's mouth, using his still-grimy fingers to facilitate the job.
"Here you go, mah nigga. Hit me up sometime if you want the good stuff instead of this stinky hemp."

He then turns to the balding man jabs his finger at him.

"You tryna charge money for this shit? You lucky this is the only food around, otherwise I'd chop your head off for poisoning the public. Anyway, this meal's on me."

Ali snaps his fingers, and a burly, mustachioed Coterie member places a golden camel near the balding man's feet.

"Now, in case it wasn't clear, I'm the muhfukin Lil' Prince Ali, straight from the Swaggafid Kingdom, here to slay a hundred princes. You seem like a local. Who rules this town? Where do they live? Oh, and before I forget, I need directions to the nearest palace and brothel. There wasn't a single high-class whore on the entire voyage over here."

The blonde sighs. "This is worse then the slop an army would give to the grunts..." their stomach growls again." but its better than nothing. If its possible I would like a bowl of this soup as well."

The young adult turns to this most generous patron that is offering to pay for his meal: "Uhhhh, thank you. Lil' Prince Ali correct? I'm Amos Daniels. I figure I should introduce myself to the person generously providing me a meal. Also-(now addressing the balding man) I'm also interested in this gang stuff. On the way here I'd heard only good things about this place, but..." Amos looks around and lets his sentence trail off.

The cook stares at the golden camel. "Bloody warlords..." he mutters. He shakes his head and serves more soup to Amos and the cloaked blonde.
"Yeah, it's all gone to shit here hasn't it. There was some noble in charge here, but he left a week ago so the council takes care of things. You were looking for brothels, highness? There are a couple inside the town wall, but for quality you'll wanna go down south. Whores here are worn out from all the sailors."

After the impact with the strange young girl, Gray instinctively felt through his clothing to make sure everything was still there. It was, for like any other careful person in the wrong side of town, all the important stuff was sown into hidden pockets, with only chump change lying around exposed to potential thievery.

The rest at the slopshack was brief, for after a morning round of talking it seemed as if the people required a more direct round of "inspiration". Gray helped himself to a bit of the soup, disregarding the frustrated glances of the balding man, and afterwards, went upon a more conspicuous recruiting streak.

This time he picked out those of Abatos, or of a friendly disposition towards Abatos, and invited them on a plot to go raid and seize the town's resources by force.

"My brothers, although we find ourselves in foreign lands, without food or shelter, we must work together to survive. It seems as if none of us have the resources to survive beyond this year without any sort of income, and so I see it to our mutual benefit that we seize what we need by force."

(speaking, conspiracy, whatever check for 500 alex)

With his modified approach, Gray has so far gathered 4 followers, half of which are former beggars.

He meets a native Abatosian woman near the town wall. Her elegant robes bear the insignia of a rival merchant house. "Excuse me? I'm on an important business trip, so don't trouble me with nonsense," she responds to his invitation. Then her eyes widen with recognition.
"Hey, aren't you one of those ex-guildsmen? What are you doing here?"

The blonde greedily takes the offered soup and devours it. When they are done she sighs contently. "May not be the best of foods, but it does have a certain charm to it. You have my thanks, if there is any way I can repay you please name it."

(By this time Gray has now lost everything of value in his unhidden pockets, and somehow all the money in one of his hidden pockets, thinly sliced open with a knife)

The cook slaps the camel on the head. "You can help me melt down this damn thing into coin so I can use it."

Amos badgers the balding man for further information: "The noble up and left town? Has this situation with the other refugees escalated to the point that the leadership flees?"

He shrugs. "They said he was on a hunting trip, and would return shortly. But yeah, I think the king should do something about this."

The blonde shakes her head. "Unfortunately I have not the tools to melt this statue, perhaps you can go to the local blacksmith and have him melt or cut it . If you would like I could go inform the king about your towns situation for you."

Amos looks towards the entrance and stares at the poverty and destitution outside before collecting his thoughts and speaking to Ali: "Hey Lil' Ali, are you traveling any further than this? Enarou is not what I was hoping it'd be and honestly, I worry for my safety with each passing moment I remain here. If you were traveling further north to one of the lavish noble estates I'd like to accompany you. I can provide you with a surplus of snarky remarks and a pretense of armed protection if that fancies you." Amos repeatedly shifts his eyes towards the cloaked figure trying to pick out any details that could tell him more about them.

"Madam, I am technically still am a guilds-man as my charter has not yet been revoked. Just a little down on my luck recently."
Gray replied to the rival merchant with good humor.
"Although I can hardly see what business opportunities lies in this impoverished place, rather you may lose everything you have before you even make a cent."

It was simultaneously so that he found his emptied pockets, to which he shrugged with a smile.

"I should take leave for now, though, for I have something else to attend to."

With his four impoverished companions, Gray hatches a plan to light the town hall and surrounding homes ablaze, and raid the granary in the confusion. After the plan is put into motion though, Gray silently disappears from the scene, leaving everyone else behind.

Lil' Prince Ali grins at Amos.

"A.D., mah NIGGA, I'm traveling much farther than Enarou. If you wanna tag along, sho thang. But first..."

Ali grabs the bald man by his collar and hoists him to his feet. Two Coterie members grab the man and push him outside the shack, towards the llamas and purple peacocks milling around.

"...I wanna see this "council" that the baldy was talking about. This town has gone to shit under those motherfuckers, and they gonna answer for their poor judgement. Mah Daddy always said that a weak ruler deserves to die. I swear on the name of the Swaggafid kings, that I will fuck their shit up. And I'll be taking the head of that noble when he comes back."

Ali saunters over to the bald cook, still held by both arms.

"You, my good sir, will be our tour guide. Point out anything important as we travel around town. And in case you was havin' any doubts, lemme make it clear I'm not askin' you," Ali says, fingering the hilt of his scimitar. He then points towards the bearded man and the blond soldier.

"You with the pipe full of kush, and you with the cloak. What are your names?"

Outside, a faint column of smoke has gone up in the distance. The cook gulps and agrees to Ali's generous terms.
Gray arrives back at the soup kitchen.

The woman shakes her head. "I apologise, but as of this moment I can not give my name freely. Could be others who can hear."

Amos ponders if the he has just stepped down a dark and fatal path, but it is clear to him that voicing hesitation now might leave him headless.

"Lil' Prince Ali, lead the way with your zealous swagg."

Gray arrives back at the soup shack right before Ali leaves, in time to convey some good news.

"It seems that the town hall seems to be undergoing a remodeling, I don't know if there will be anything left after it takes course though."

Gray waves his hand in another direction.

"Want to go check out whats in the treasury instead, my fellows?"

She simply shakes her head and follows Prince Ali out, ignoring Mr. Grey.

"Well, chaps, it seems that I must go and see what I can get myself then."

Gray goes off back towards the scene of the crime inconspicuously to check on the situation, and if a lot of people are there, heads off to the town treasury.

Though Amos has few possessions he checks to be certain that the straps and buckles on his knapsack are secure. In addition, he holds his sheathed longsword in his hand and ties it to his wrist. He would far prefer to look foolish than to be robbed blind.

Ali sends Abu, the white persian monkey, to follow Lee Gray.

(still waiting for maestro to respond)

The bald cook wriggles in his captors' strong arms. He points back towards the shack.
"Wait, my gold is still in there! We can't just leave it, it'll be stolen for sure!"

Meanwhile, Lee Gray finds that there is indeed a lot of people gathered around the town hall, but the building itself is undamaged. It is the house immediately to the right that is a half smoldering ruin.
There is no official treasury building in Port Enarou, so Gray heads to the best equivalent: the local bank. It is a large building composed wholly of stone, with square pyramidal roofs. Uniformed guards stand at the entrance and likely within as well.

"Don't worry, that man with the glasses, who still hasn't recovered from seeing the prince, will surely make sure no one will take it. Besides if someone does take it I'm sure Prince Ali here will give you another, and that's not even considering what he might pay you for how well of a job you do guiding him around the city."

(Bluff skill check on merchant)

"Ah, sorry for the silence.  I am just not used to seeing such swagger in a man of nobility.  I shall indeed join Ali, bearer of many bitchin' titles, on his quest...on one condition.  I shall only help slay the princes that are not of this earth, for ousting the unnatural and daemonic is my mission.  I am Lucas Van Luft, Un-dead hunter and Wampyr slayer.  I bring with me my cross bow and flintlock, and the amulet Hautbrenne which burns the flesh of any demon when presented, and a variety of weird and alchemycal tools to bring these monsters down.  The vampire is known to assume roles that bring it great power, so I shall help slay any prince that is unliving among us."

Lucas follows behind Ali

(Sorry for the delay)

Now introduced to each other, Amos, Lucas, the mysterious cloaked woman, and Ali's entourage make their way to the town hall, where they encounter the large crowd and behold the burned down residence.

Amos looks impressed by the burnt real estate and whispers over to the guide: "Soooo do buildings burn down a lot here?"

He is as surprised by the scene as the rest of the group. "No, seeing as how we have to live in 'em. Most of the big fires here are just burning trash piles."

Amos steps up to someone standing closer to the ashes and asks inquires for details about the fire.

"I wonder what could have caused this..." She mumbles to herself, stepping forward to see what remains.