Irva

Bounty Hunter (Human/Durga/Drann) - You've seen it all. Stupid "criminals", insane Senators, and corrupt assassins. You don't ask questions anymore, just how many tokens your patrons have to offer. Although some may confuse you with a common assassin, you know that assassins are not capable of bringing back their prey alive. Recently, you've become tired of the common seek-capture-return routine, and have hungered for something new; new streets, new folk, and perhaps even some fresh air. The reek that is Irva has begun to make you ill.

Equipment & Supplies: Iron shackles, a wire net, an expired Bounty Hunter license certified by the Senate, a set of nondescript clothing, an ulcer, a worn heavy crossbow with 30 bolts, a tough pair of boots, a wad of gristle jerky, a bottle of cheap whiskey, a pair of bolas, a flint wheel, a hooded lantern, 3 vials of oil, one wide scar across the length of your entire back, and paid passage to: (choose one) Sirvat, Pelmox, Tothane, or Sanctum.

Street Thief (Any Race) - There is nothing better than living in the Court, the greatest city in Gyr. Yeah, you've been to Sirvat, Pelmox, and even Tothane, but none of it compares to the splendors and prey of Irva. You can steal from Pit-Whores, Forks, Bishops, Knights, and even Dents, if you're quick enough. However, you made the mistake of stealing a broach from an Antharri dignitary, and she has the resources to get it back. You've gotta leave the Glories of the Court, and move on to cleaner streets.

Equipment & Supplies: Face tattoos (so you blend in with the regular populace), 8 different cheap paper-mache masks, a light reversible cloak - red on the outside - black on the inside, a hook and pole, assorted piercings, a pair of light street thongs, a belt and pouch with dirty caltrops, a pouch of salt dust, a sack for plink & loot, a wicked looking iron dagger, a bottle of red street wine (free), a pouch of marbles, 4 different "cut" purses, and a vial of obewar.

Pirate Crewer (Any Race) - You are a bandit of the high seas. You and your gang chase prey, easy and not so easy, in an attempt to fill your coffers will tokens. Sometimes you go after merchant ships, or convoys, and other times you go after other pirates. Sometimes you go after anything that floats. You've had a little success, but you've not really caught any prey for a while. Competition is getting tough in the 'Belt, these days. Is it time to find "proper" work?

Equipment & Supplies: A rope hammock, a jug of powerful grog, bone dice, a sailor's mask, a nicked cutlass, a flint wheel, a wide brimmed oilskin hat, a Voyan holy symbol, a sacrifice-token to Worl, ragged sailing clothes, an oilskin slicker, and a locked sailor's trunk containing: a blanket, a lucky token, a whetstone, a small silver locket containing a small painting of your mother, a fine porcelain hune for the Court, a good set of city clothes, and a big block of cork.

Pit Fighter (Thrall/Ogra/Human/Durga) - Edukasion? Skooled in da Pit. Skilz? Kan kil wel. If ya wanna be my frend, I'll quote ye with me thums!

Equipment & Supplies: Scars covering your entire body, a slave tattoo on the back of your head with registration number, a thrall-ring embedded around your collarbone, bruises, small cuts, cropped ears, calloused hands, an intimidating iron helmet, chipped gauntlet blades, heavy boots with grieves, a tin thrall dish, and dented shoulder pauldrons with spikes.

Face, Senate - (Any Race) You were owned by a fledgling Senator, who made you do all of her cleaning, lifting, digging, sweating, repairing, and painting. She wasn't so bad, as far as slave owners go, and she provided you with good meals from time to time. Unfortunately, she was assassinated, and a new, much more dangerous master took over. In the midst of a rather sever beating, you realized that it was time to escape, before you were quoted for good. You waited, and finally an opportunity availed itself, and you were off! Now, there are Facecatchers on your tail, and you've gotta gate before you're caught and beaten to death!

Equipment & Supplies: Various bruises and minor cuts, a slave tattoo on the back of your head with registration number, good quality Face tunic, a thin leather belt with pouch, a stolen silver candelabra, a bottle of good wine, and a sack filled with grapes, olives, pickled meats, sugared apples, and spice cake.

Face, Dock (Any Race) - You work on one on the thousands of docks of the Court, chained to a pier, loading and unloading cargo from the bellies of massive ships. It's a tough life, but you've grown strong with the labor, and your skin is scarred and leathered from the constant abuse of the caustic sea mists. One day, a great wave swept over the ship, smashing the dock and breaking the chain on your ankle. You escaped, but you're sure that your master is looking for you. (Perhaps it is time to begin a new (free) career.) First things first; you've gotta find a free hune!

Equipment & Supplies: Dock gloves, pitted skin, a slave tattoo on the back of your head with registration number, good physical condition, bright red loin cloth, and a big dock plank with several nails sticking out.

Face, Household - You got too blissed one night, and when you woke up, you were sold into slavery. (Facedom) Suddenly you had to do what your masters ordered, or you were severely beaten. You were regarded as a pet, and even the children forced you to do their tricks and play their stupid games. One day, the oldest child was playing with some keys, and you made a new, exciting game with them: "Hide the Chains!" In no time at all you were free, laughing and sprinting through the streets. Facecatchers forced you to hide in the undercity, until you can find a way outta the court. (But you're getting hungry enough to eat your own arm.)

Equipment & Supplies: A slave tattoo on the back of your head with registration number, a sheet draped over your head to hide your identity, stolen silverware (8 forks, 7 spoons, 3 meat knives), a very nice lantern 1/2 filled with oil, and slave shackles with key.

Face, Euphoria (Any Race) - You have worked your way up from the lowly Whore-Pits to the curtained Euphoria booths, selling pleasure to any who would hand over the plink. Life inside the perfumed booth is getting rather restraining lately, and your are getting a bit old for a Euphoria slave. (Though you're not old by any stretch) You've recently overheard your master whispering to her men about re-opening some of the old muddy Whore-Pits, with you as the lead "slave". You know this isn't the life for you, and you're planning on escape.

Equipment & Supplies: A good makeup kit, leather straps, a slave tattoo on the back of your head with registration number, lotion, fragrant oils, fake jewelry, very revealing clothing, iron Euphoria collar chaining you to the booth, a ceramic water dish, a chastity bikini for your off hours, a small crop, a stained silk sheet, and a serrated steel blade.

Face, Messenger (Human/Toth/Faeyan) - You are owned by an individual or business that requires you to deliver documents and correspondence. As far as slaves go, it's a good life, since you're able to enjoy the sights and sounds of the city without supervision, and your most difficult labor is a long, hard sprint in bare feet. However, you are addicted to a Passu (an individualized chemical cocktail) which you must ingest once per day, which keeps you from straying far from your master's home. The Passu makes you run like the wind, and it is the primary joy in your life. However, slaves that do not receive their daily (custom) Passu wither and go insane. Perhaps your Passu Maker had a soft spot for you, and never gave you full doses, or a street associate has offered you a "pirated" Passu for a "price." In any case, you may have a chance for escape... if those hounds don't catch you first.

Equipment & Supplies: Tough feet (like shoes), excellent physical condition, a slave tattoo on the back of your head with registration number, passu addiction, loin cloth, a long steel hairpin picked up from the street, and a small vial of hoarded Passu that should last 3 days.

Bodyguard Dent (Drann/Ogra/Human/Skorr) - Sots need protection inna burg like dis one. Yer jest th' one ta do DA job. Ye loik TA stup DA pips when ye git a chance. Ye got plenty a pins an oth'r weapons alla 'bout, an da plinks not bad, neither. Ye gotta be ready TA die, protect'in yer bounty, but dats parta DA job, no? But yer thums jest got all quoted by a rival dent gang, an ye gotta gate quick 'fore it happens TA you. Hellava life it is. Now you, DA Dent, needs protection!

Equipment & Supplies: (Choose one weapon: Heavy trident, double mace, bastard sword with broken tip, warhammer, or pike.) Bronze scale mail, a pair of rusting armored boots, a recently repaired bronze helm, a wire brush for cleaning armor, 3 wound cloths, a pack of rivets, 1 week of dent tack (poor food), a small hammer, plated gauntlets, a gruff voice, stabbing stiletto, tin canteen, an unopened bottle of armor oil, a gambling debt note, a long pipe and a small bundle of bitter tobacco.

Cultist (Any Race) - Spread the faith. Last year, it was the Shroud of the Black Wyrm. This year, it is the Dark Call. Next year, who knows? You believe that religion must not be static; it must spread, mutate, and change to survive. Sure, the "established" religions call you and your kind a "blight", but you know that they were once called "Cults" by the "Religions" of the day, too. The founders of the established religions were once called "cultists" just like you, but now they're referred to as "Saints". You too, will be known as a "Saint" just as soon as you convert a few more souls, and create a miracle or two. Now, you've gotta get (trick) those blessed dancers into your tent...

Equipment & Supplies: A leather face mask depicting your latest religion, a loud voice, a pouch of grain, clay faith tokens to distribute, a ceramic bowl, a necklace with holystone, resin tinted hair, a beggar's cup, a vial of blessed whiskey/ale/or mead, a curse-staff, a bone flute, skimpy clothes, and a portable pulpit.

Sailor - (Any Race) Yer a salty sailor, an ya know DA Belt of Urgo like DA back of yer scarred hand. You make your living by fishing, ferrying, or even occasionally pirating. It's all th' same, really. Ya could be Human, Drann, Toth, or ev'en Ogra, but ye were born in DA 'Belt. (Irva, or Darkbury Port.) But, things have changed a mite. Per'haps you've been driven out of DA Belt by a rival pirate gang, or a Senator has it out for yer soul. Maybe ya borrowed too much plink from DA pawn, an he wants it back, with interest. In any case, ye left yer home, an ye can't come back without dag vod.

Equipment & Supplies: Sailor's mask, oilskin cloak, pitted skin, weathered features, fishing gut-knife, sailor's cursing, a pouch of salt, a jug of great grog, a hammock and bed-roll, a worn blanket, fishing hooks, a fine fishing net, a hooded lantern & 3 vials of fish oil, and a worn bronze trident.

Street Spark - (Any Race) They call you a "feral mage" or "street spark" or "wilderic" but you know that your are just a "Phannic"; a sot who's soul is connected to Phann- the wild magic. The first time that you drew upon the Phann was like drinking a bit too much mead; your head was spinning, you were confused, and you were laughing. You felt truly alive. (Never mind that the pub table was trying to give folks a ride like some sort of insane ahnkri!) Now you have respect, and sell your abilities to gangs, cults, barrels, and individuals for the most plink. Sure, the purists say that Fey should never be sold, buy hey, you gotta make a living somehow, right?! You have a difficult time committing to any one group or patron, which has finally gotten you into some serious trouble. See, you've worked for two rival gangs and have managed to infuriate both groups. They have both focused on you with their full rage, and they want to see you quoted. Time to leave the Court!

Equipment & Supplies: A fair quality painted mask made of wood, street thongs, a belt purse, tattoos, piercings, foul language, a sharp barbed knife, a brass pub-cup (at least you KNOW if it's clean), a vial of powerful alcohol, skimpy clothing, a tin bowl, a chain mail satchel full of caltrops, a leather sling, and loaf of bread shaped like a plagued man.