Magistratus Lucious was an exhausted invididual. Since the inception of the Agency, the Chief Justice had battled against his fellow Magister-naysayers. Vigilatiism wasn't tolerated within Waterdeep and there had been a number of crimes the Agency had committed to achieve their mission-goals. The results were undeniable despite the recriminations Luscious had incured. Politics played an important role to the Black Robed of the Court of Waterdeep. In that game, Luscious had allies which saw to his success and grant for continued services.

The past week had been spent busily recruiting more Agents. Some were interviewed directly, having had appointments set with a long discussion over supper. Others had found their way to the Agency of their own accord, having heard of a lucrative opportunity. The pick of the litter at his fingertips, Magistratus Luscious made contracts of service which were quite long and in depth.

All manner of minutia were covered in excruciating and exacting detail: The Good; lodgings, per-diem allowance, weekly pay-rate, and even shares on recovered valuables. The Bad; a listing of all the laws of Waterdeep and a writ awaiting signature to uphold such laws, defend the city, and on it went in an endless flurry of flowery phrases all meant to ellicit obedience to the city, people, magisters, lords, and such but in truth doing little more than causing a headache. And - The Ugly; Terms regarding compensation for death or dismemberment.

Those that spoke with the Magistratus at any length quickly learned that his operation had been over worked of late. Tasked with assisting the Watchful Order of Mages and Protectors, the City Guard and the City Watch, as well as the two dozen or so Magisters dispensing justice for the Lords of Waterdeep. The Agency was given details only begrudgingly, having been viewed as little more than another nobleman's Flight of Fancy. Several months of success had cemented respect and warranted a bolstering of the ranks.

The position wasn't the best to be had: The Night Shift. It would mean either long and dreary nights waiting for something - anything of interest of stave off boredom inspire sleep or; pitched situations with the oppressing darkness of night closing in on all sides. Protests were met with minimal disdain from the Magistratus, an understanding person apparently. These were quelled with a shrug to indicate there was no other option. Whitled down to a suitable roster of names, Luscious arranged another meeting at the onset of the first night on the job.

That afternoon, rooms were assigned on one of the upper two floors of the estate. The structure, though not massive, was sizeable enough for well over a dozen apartments. Each had it's own door to the interior courtyard and exterior windows giving a view of the nearby palace and Mount Waterdeep. The courtyard itself had long-since been transformed into a staging area to one side. The whole of the courtyard was paved with large bricks, retaining a neat and tidy look.

The bottom floor comprised the primary entry, a stout door of hardend oak bound in thick iron complete with bindings for a thick oaken stave to bar the passage. No kitchens nor anything to cook would be found at the Estate - most meals taking place at the nearby Dragon's Head Tavern. Rather, the remainder of the rooms were lent to storage space or a large meeting room. The cellars on the other hand, had been converted rather completely. The entire space had been filled with a number of cages of varying sizes.

Details dealt with, Luscious bade the Night Shift an excellent first night before heading for the stairs to his own apartment. All that remained was for boredom to set in. The Touts would come running, Luscious had said. The Touts would have with them messages and requests. That first night, there hadn't been a single solitary Tout nor anything that was remotely paranormal let alone needed any semblance of protection. Luscious had admonished against boredom and assured that there would be work soon enough. The second night; more of the same! No Touts and yet more reassurances. Come the third night would things be different or would the doom to those of this new job be to die of sheer boredom?...


PPA HQ
OOC: We begin on Night #3 - Dusk.

“Sweet mother of Perseus, wake up Imprit I have news!” Lirius burst into his dusty apartment his eyes twinkling brightly. Lirius made quite a figure posed in the doorway with his skinny arms held high over his head; the sleeves to his purple robes, which looked far too big for him, sliding down into a bunch at his shoulder almost covering his face. He brought his arms down revealing his green eyes and golden locks. And what news is this that would have you in such a ‘bright’ mood this morning? A voice whispered irritated in Lirius’ mind

“I have a job!” Lirius announced proudly. “And one in which I can put my degree to use!” Lirius began pulling out bags of several different varieties and placing several capped smelly bottles into them. And might I ask where the new job is and why you seem to be packing? Imprit hated moving. It meant a change of scenery and Imprit hated change, which now that Lirius thought about it was a strange quality in an imp.

“Oh yeah the Paranormal Protection Agency.” Lirius said continuing to pack. “And they’ve provided lodging so we’re moving!” Oh goody. The Imp’s snide remark came flipping back. Lirius swiftly packed his bottles and spell books. Then walked out of his apartment and began scrawling runes onto the earth. With a piece of horsehair in his hand he stepped back a little from the runes. “Mountus” Lirius said in a deep commanding tone. The runes scrawled on the earth began to glow red and then in a puff of smoke a horse appeared. Lirius then pulled out a tiny bag and an unlit candle.

“Omferious Conjuratatus Goblinicus” Lirius intoned and the tiny bag he held began to grow in size. Lirius opened the bag and a goblin hopped out. “Hi there go grab some bags and load them onto the horse we’re moving!” Lirius ordered. The goblin headed into the apartment and did exactly as he was commanded. The bag in Lirius’ hand returned to the tiny size it started as.

“Ooh and the spell I finally mastered last night!” Lirius held out the candle and bag again. “Omfecurious Implicatus Conjuratatus Bugbearinicus!” The bag again began to grow in size and Lirius again held it open. This time a Bugbear hopped out. “Hi let’s grab some of the bags and follow me! Oh goblin the horse is plenty laddered down now grab some of the bags and follow me!” Lirius the bugbear and the goblin headed into Lirius old apartment, grabbed the remaining bags and headed to the PPA HQ.

The party received a few strange looks but this was Waterdeep and nothing was so far out of the ordinary as to make the citizens stare for long, least of all this small caravan. The apartments weren’t anything to woo over but Lirius was in such a good mood that he wooed anyway much to Imprit’s annoyance. The inside of the apartment was of average size in fact it was a little bigger than Lirius’ old apartment. It had a desk and a bed and plenty of space.

“Look Imprit a bed!” Lirius said fully aware that his excitement was irritating the imp. Oooh and a desk how posh. The imp responded sarcastically. “heh. You may put the bags over there.” Lirius said to the goblinoids pointing to a corner of the room. When the bags were neatly and carefully stacked in the corner which had become half the room Lirius waved dismissively and in a puff of smoke the goblin, bugbear and horse were all gone. “I love being a wizard! Free slave labor!” Lirius sighed as he began digging through his bags. “Now where did I put those? Aha!” Lirius carefully extracted a jar of mint leaves. He took one out and placed it into his mouth sucking on it while he looked over the room with a better eye for detail. “Now let’s see I will have to get shelves for everything. A shame I couldn’t carry them with me but the free slave labor only lasts so long. I do have the other apartment tomorrow so I’ll get a few of them tomorrow. Having that bugbear is a major benefit.”

You’re talking to yourself again. Imprit interjected.

“No I’m talking to you.” Lirius replied almost absently.

Well I’m not listening so your talking to yourself Imprit said in return. “Well just cause you’re not listening doesn’t mean I’m not talking to you.” Lirius said unpacking stuff. You left the shelves what do you think you’re going to do with that stuff?
“I’m making tea obviously.” Lirius said getting a decanter out and several herbs. There’s no flint with the tinder Imprit informed Lirius. “Wizard. Duh.” Lirius replied grabbing his staff which was an oak staff with a ruby red crystal embed into it’s top. He pointed the staff at the logs in the fireplace. (assuming that every house has a fireplace)

“Now do your thing.” Lirius commanded Imprit who resided in the ruby atop the staff. Are you serious? “Of course I’m serious make with the flambé!” The ruby glowed and shot out a length of fire approximately the size of a long bow’s arrow. “No flint indeed.” Lirius placed the decanter in the flames. “Bah!”
After a hearty meal at the tavern Lirius joined his compatriots for the first night.

“Hi I’m Lirius Wizard Extraordinaire.” Lirius introduced himself after they’d received the initial briefing for night shift. Lirius didn’t mind night shift he was by nature a night owl and nights were by nature more interesting to magically inclined individuals like Lirius than ordinary mortals whether a missive came or not. Besides he had his spell book and one of Elminster’s early spell books that he was still attempting to glean some knowledge out of. The trouble with spells was they were written in unique runes for each different spell caster and it took time, study, and sometimes repeat power expenditure to reveal the subtle differences between the runes Lirius used versus say the runes Elminster used. Lirius didn’t really have any hopes of learning a new spell for a while as he had just recently gained the insight to his most recent spell. But that didn’t keep him from hoping or from trying. So throughout the first night Lirius spent most of his time scribbling onto a practice pad, looking back into Elminster’s spell book and looking at his own as well as drinking tea and sucking on mint leaves. The second day was much like the first except with less excitement as Lirius was tired from lack of sleep (he’d only slept four hours before Imprit woke him telling him if he wanted hose shelves now was he time to get them!) and he was a little despaired at just how slow the night had been. No work means no pay coming into the organization which means eventual layoffs. Sigh. The night was also much the same with scribbling into his practice pad and studying the two spell books. He slept through the entire day of the third day waking just before dusk and in just enough time to eat before his shift.

A dubious smirk tugging at his lips, the raven-haired half-elf perched on sill of the window in the room he had been assigned and studied the Waterdhavian view framed beyond, reflecting on the series of events that had brought him to Waterdeep, into the employ of the thieves guild there and, somehow, now, to this place. It seemed so far removed from the earliest memories he had – those of stealing and scrapping out an existence in the slums of Calimport – and, while perhaps not as far removed, still an unlikely progression from his days as a housebreaker and then enforcer for the guilds that staked their territories in that southern city. Maybe it had been the trade rivalry between Calimshan and Waterdeep (a rivalry that seeped far deeper into the fabric of things than the ‘legitimate’ surface of caravans and such) that had drawn him north and, eventually, into the guild, here, which rivaled and partnered, on occasion, with that in Calimport. Perhaps his migration had been precipitated by the tales and legends of the Undermountain and the promises of fortune and adventure that those stories offered. Then again, maybe it was simple wanderlust. Had he just grown tired of the same old thing, day after day, week after week, and year after year? Had his evolution from a homeless, parentless, street-urchin to a notorious and sought-after enforcer and troubleshooter for the Calimport guilds urged him northwards in an attempt to put those earlier days even farther behind… perhaps forget them all together?

“Whatever it is,” the Shadowblade murmured into the emptiness of his room, “here I am, hm? Offered up to this ‘paranormal protection agency’ on behalf of the guild… I wonder at the guild’s interest in such things as this agency is involved with…” His golden eyes turned from the vista of rooftops and cobbled streets beyond the window, panned slowly across the room to where most of his neatly bundled gear rested atop the still unmade bed. He contemplated, for perhaps the third time since he’d arrived here, unpacking his things and preparing for what he had been told to expect but, for the third time, decided against it… It was still early in the day and, thankfully, he had been relegated to the Night Shift… there would be plenty of time to settle in before he was expected ‘on duty’ and, perhaps, with a stroll around the estate with an open ear and watchful eye he would have a better idea of exactly how he would be best equipped before then.

His gaze dipped back to the short sword that lay across his knees and his fingers traced lightly over the recently honed edges of the blade, then along the rune-graven bloodgutter that ran down its center. He had been told, not long after he had acquired the sword, that the runes in that runnel spelled out ‘Anguish’… considering the uses he had put it to since then, Spider figured it was an appropriate enough moniker and, after having resigning himself to calling the blade by its name, thereafter, had developed an even greater appreciation for it, even sought out an instructor and, under that aged warrior’s tutelage, learned to use it with greater effectiveness than his own natural talent with blades… he wondered (occasionally even worried), at times, if the sword’s name was intended as an omen for it’s wielder as well as it’s victims… and rejoiced in the fact that, if it had been intended as such, he had yet to be affected by it… found himself doing so, now… and allowed the faint smile that played on his lips to bloom to fullness as he slid from the window sill and returned the blade to the sheath he had made for it. “I suppose if such an omen comes to fruition it’ll be during my time here, won’t it?”

He padded across the room and laid the sword down beside the rest of his gear. “Paranormal Protection Agency,” he murmured the name again and, as he retrieved a set of daggers from his kit, let the particulars of the contract he had finally signed with the group come to the forefront of his thoughts… There would be a chance to do more good than he had before and, for some reason, that thought appealed to him, but, at the same time, there were so many rules that he would be expected to follow and, so many allegiances he would have to claim in the doing of that good.

“Not much for following the flowery words of written law,” he chuckled, secreting a dagger away in each of his boots before strapping the sheathes of two others to his forearms, “but, I suppose, since the Magistratus has been so kind as to provide a list of all Waterdhavian laws, it shan’t be difficult to figure out how to skirt them when necessary.”

Malice was tired, not tired in the sleep needed way, but life tired. Though only 39 he had lived longer then most in his profession, with many a close call. As he washed his hands in the wash basin he looked into the glass mirror above it and as he had for the last 9 years of his life saw the long scar running down the right side of his face from just above the eye to under his tunic. The scaring visibly burnt as if someone had used a flaming blade, though the cut itself was very neat. A nice little 9 year reminder of just such a ‘close call‘.

His face washed he started to dress as tonight was his first night at his new job, socks, breeches, pants, boots. A dagger into each boot, then his belt with its pouches and attached Shuriken, a shirt to cover his upper body and the myriad of scars upon it.
Then over this his armor, the best Elvin chain money could buy, next over the chain a vest to both somewhat hide the armor and hide its magical shine in the light from Waterdeep’s street torches.

Then final touches a long black leather duster with sheaths for his two swords sewn into the leather and extending the hilts over both shoulders and his custom fitted Cestus gladiator style gloves, spikes on the knuckles and upper hand and Velcro on the inside of his palm and finger tips to better grip his swords and throw his shrunken.

With this completed he moved to the bed to replace the bar of soap into his backpack then locked it and all of the rest of his gear into the Inn provided chest using his personal lock. Though this new job provided a room and a bed, for the moment he was paid up here for the next 4 months so he would remain here until at least then. After that depending on how this job went he could make the move or pay for another 4 months. Turning to look into the darkest corner of the room he spoke to his roommate.

“So you ready for our first night shift, Lady, come on girl, lets go”

Hearing Malice’s voice a shape moved out of the corners darkness to reveal a large, yet very scruffy looking, mongrel. The dog looked to be a cross between a husky, a wolf, and something else. Malice had found her as a pup at the same place he had received his facial scar and the two had been friends ever since, Malice’s natural affinity with animals making it easy. Though she and Oynx had been acting strangely the past few times the male black dog had been summoned. With Lady following behind him, Malice locked the rooms door, again with another of his own locks, moved down the stairs, and with a nod to the inn keeper out into the street.

As he made his way towards the Estate he could not but think on the last 10 years of his life and wonder at the events that had brought him here to Waterdeep. It had all started with Khelban & Laeral Silverhand Arunsun and the feud between their organization, The Moonstar’s and the Harpers. Man had he stepped into it then, as in the course of his working for the Moonstar’s he had traveled to Skullport, gained the scar on his face, befriended the canine at his side, and almost even traveled to the Underdark. Of course he had almost lost his life a few times but without the danger inherent there it would have been boring, and boring was no fun at all.

Shaking his head warily, a slight smile on his face, Malice had to admit it had been fun and though he at present was not working for them, they had pointed him towards this Paranormal Protection thingamajingy. Though he was always on call to them as his skill was quite useful, he did need a part time source of income between projects for them. He was sure they would call on him again, if not for work, then to visit as he considered them friends as they did with him so it was always nice to stop in every once and awhile.

Then it was onto the Street of Silver and before he knew it he was standing before the doors to the Paranormal Protection HQ.........................

That had been three days ago and this was now the third night on the job, the night shift it was called and for the moment this ‘night shift’ was driving the 39 year old Ranger crazy with boredom. Had the Blackstaff and his wife sent him here as a bit of a prank, he had been a little mischievous on his last visit with that serving girl of theirs. Or was there something worthwhile here, other then the gorgeous redheaded Half-Elf Druid he had met during Magistratus Luscious intro presentation. If not for that Malice would have already been gone on to other adventures. Even at 39 he was not too old just yet and as he tried to discreetly watch her, such a lovely body hiding under that hide armor he was sure, he wondered how he could turn her Ice crystal blue eyes onto him.

Mystra, he was thinking like a school age boy best to get his mind back to the job at hand this ‘night shift’ thing..........

Sariah Landryn looked at the tiny room she was renting, there would be no loss to lose this place. Part of the reason she had agreed to take this job at the Paranormal Protection Agency was to get out of this place, the apartment that the Agency provided was an Inn compared to this single tiny room. She hadn't been to the city for very long and had little in the means of monetary goods. She had taken this place because it was inexpensive, yet very clean and seemed to be in a safe neighborhood. Plus she was within walking distance of a market and places she may have been able to find employment. She had only come to the city a short time ago and was more used to living out in the country or even in the mountains to the east where she had spent many years when she was growing up. More recently she had been living down near the sea. An acquaintance had suggested her moving here when her last job had ended when the owners boat had capsized in a horrific storm. She wasn't very fond of cites, but until she had enough money to go back to the mountains she hadn't much choice. Her sister lived in the mountains and she hadn't seen her in 3 years.

Sariah was a Druid who was 60 years old, which was barely middle aged for a half-elf. As she looked at the mirror for the last time in this room she thought again how average she looked, she had never thought of herself as pretty, but she was very tall for her race, almost 5'7" and she had always loved her long red hair that she was brushing up into a ponytail now. Her eyes were what everyone always noticed, they were an amazing color of blue, and they seemed to change in different lighting. One boy when she was just a child had told her that they were the color of the blue in an ice burg which was the most amazing thing he had ever seen. She was slender and had always prided herself in keeping in good shape, her father had always been impressed with how strong she was. She thought nothing of it. Anyone could do what she did.

She had few belongings so in just a couple trips her and the two wolf dogs she had could move her belongings. She had made pouches for them to carry supplies for her. They were siblings one male and one female. They had been rescued after the mother wolf was killed trying to save them from a mountain lion, one of the litter was killed and two had died the next day from their injuries. Their father had been her sisters malamute and so they took the 6 pups and tried to save them all. Her sister had kept the other two from the litter that survived. These two had been Sariah's faithful companions now for 4 years and she was rarely seen without them. Bandit the male was bigger and took after the malamute looks, with the blue eyes that were as deep as Sariah's and Dakota looked more like her mother and was smaller, but powerful. They would surprise anyone who thought that they could harm her though, The friendlier looking of the two Bandit was more likely to attack first if he thought Sariah was in danger. Dakota seemed to love everyone, but she looked more like a wolf, and people seemed to keep more of a distance even from wolves that had been brought up around people.

"Hello, I'm Sariah", she told the group after a couple others had introduced themselves. She had always been a little more on the shy side when meeting new people, her friends always thought of her as honest, truthful, one who could always be depended on, and one who would always help out if at all possible. She also had always been described as the one who never wanted to go home at the end of a gathering or party if she were having fun, but it took her some time to get to know people. After they'd received the initial briefing for night shift, Sariah had kept to herself somewhat, not being rude, just quietly observing her new coworkers. They all seemed nice enough, but a couple of them she could tell were not as fond of the night shift, but one, Lirius, seemed to enjoy the late hours of the job and she had noticed the tall rugged looking guy, Malice, would watch her when he thought she wasn't looking. She wondered about the scar that he had, but she was used to seeing scars on people. He had a dog with him that seemed to have husky and wolf in it, it wasn't common to see wolf mixes as pets or companions and she would love to know how he had gotten one too. She loved all animalsand she trusted the instinks of them. Sariah herself wasn't one to mind doing the night shift she had always found the quieter times came in the night. Plus she loved to sleep in, her dreams were often so much more enjoyable then real life. So she had often found herself in sleep patterns of going to bed in the early morning hours and waking shortly before noon. Her mother used to tell her she should turn herself into a night creature for good. Being a druid she could turn herself into so many things, but she enjoyed roaming around in the dark as a nocternal creature.

The first two nights were slow, nothing much happened so people started talking a little to each other and got to know their way around, a couple may have even taken naps when no one was looking. So she didn't expect much different on the third night. Sariah and the dogs had dinner and left for work with enough time to stop on the way and pick up something to read during her break.

Spider sprawled almost lazily in a chair, his feet propped up on a table, in the common room of the PPA’s estate and absently twirled a dagger in his hand as he contemplated the last couple of days… they hadn’t been what he was expecting, unfortunately, and he was quickly becoming bored. His first two nights here had been spent much as this one… sitting… waiting… The promise of adventure seemed to have faded as quickly as it had been offered and, now, on this third night, the Shadowblade had begun to entertain the thoughts of fading, himself. It wasn’t that he was opposed to the night shift... In fact, for as long as he could remember, he had done some of his best work in the dark hours between the dusk and dawn… but all of this sitting and waiting had started to tax his patience.

“One would have thought, what with Waterdeep’s reputation and the Undermountain so close at hand that there would be more to do,” he murmured to no one in particular as the dagger rolled across the back of one hand, tumbled through the air, and was caught in the other, “particularly at night.” His golden eyes slid toward the doorway across the room as he tried to will something to happen, then, carried on the soft current of his exasperated sigh, returned to watch the dagger that danced, twirled, and flipped between his hands; “If one of those rutting Touts doesn’t appear soon, I’m afraid I’m going have to slip out and find something to do on my own…”

That thought… the same thought he had entertained in the monotonous hours of the two previous nights… was beginning to hold more and more appeal the longer he sat and, even if doing so would likely cause his reputation to be smudged where both the Thieves Guild and the Agency were concerned, he was very close to acting upon it. He was sure, too, that at least some of his compatriots had similar notions of their own. The mage who had introduced himself as Lirius, of course, had wiled away the hours studying his spellbooks and concerning himself with other arcane concerns but, even a wizard could surely become bored with doing nothing more than sitting and waiting… The rangy chap known as Malice, certainly, had to be getting fidgety by the time this third night had arrived and begun to lapse into later hours – all of the rangers that Spider had ever met were typically patient sorts but, also, tended to get their hearts tugged at by wanderlust when they were relegated to huddling on their haunches in the confines of a single building (regardless of how large that building might be) with little else to do but wait for Gods only knew what… The druid lass who called herself Sariah seemed a bit more content in the waiting – had occupied herself with reading and tending to her animals – but, like the ranger, surely must have begun to feel at least a bit stifled by the endless hours of nothing…

Another impatient sigh exploded past the Shadowblade’s lips and, dragging his feet from the table, he rose from the chair, returned the dagger to the sheath at his wrist, and stalked towards the door. “I’ll surely go mad if something doesn’t happen tonight,” he grumbled, pulling the door open and scanning the street outside for any signs of someone… anyone… coming this way…