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#1 Vortigern

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Posted 05 June 2010 - 01:49 PM

The Merchant’s Quarter of Valenti was always good for a stroll. Blaise d’Iurivar, Warrior-Mage of the Watchers, found the hustle and bustle of the thousand little shops and stalls and squares reassuring, reminding him of an earlier time, a time when he had been one of those boys running between the stalls taking messages for bronze pennies and swiping the odd piece of fruit as they wove their way around. Now he was a Watcher, clad in the scarlet tunic and dark hooded cloak of the order, permitted to wear the Watcher’s Ring, practised in magic and combat and entirely self-assured.

Blaise was an adventurer, deep down, but as his sister would always remind him upon his infrequent returns, Valenti was his home, and the city to which he invariably found himself returning. He longed for the life of the elven bards and rangers, travelling the world, never staying long but always welcome. If only I could sing, he mused.

For the last ten months, he had stayed in Valenti. He had escaped from the mass enslavement of magic users in Imbara, Anvar as he still knew it, and taken up brief residence in The Meres before he found a ship to take him south without having to pass through hostile lands. He had arrived back home at the start of summer and had been only too glad to settle for a while, enjoying the company of his sister and her husband and refreshing his training at the academy. But now winter had passed and spring was in full bloom again, bringing with it the trade and opportunities that Blaise loved. That was why he now meandered around the Merchant’s Quarter: a Watcher was always an invaluable companion for a caravanserai, so Blaise could pick a direction and name his price.

Turning a corner, Blaise recognised where his wandering had taken him. He was but a street away from the Mercury Gates, the grand plaza where the wealthiest and most exotic merchants plied their trade. He hurried down the street, eager to see what new wonders the spring winds had brought forth. The hue and cry of mercantile activity rose abruptly in pitch as he stepped out into the Gates, under the marbled wall which enclosed the traders’ community.

“Ivory! Gold! Pipe herbs! Best prices!”

“Amber from the north, brought to you to help you look your best in high society!”

Ignoring the hubbub, Blaise’s attention was immediately caught by the coquettish man standing on an upturned crate.

“… deep in the woods, alone and tired, trying to get a fire going with wet wood and no tinderbox…” I could have helped you there, thought Blaise. Assuming any of this is even remotely true. “When I hear a roar.” He paused, eyeing the crowd, the closest of whom were hanging on his every word. “I think, it’s probably just a bear warning off some little scavengers, but then I hear it again, and by the gods, if it isn’t a Meld!” He paused to allow the gasps of the city folk who had only ever heard stories about the ferocious half-man, half-beast creatures. “It comes tearing out of trees, lunges for me, I dodge-” the salesman was making all the appropriate motions as he told the story, “- it turns and lunges again, and I only with my little dagger-” present arms “-and I’m terrified out of my mind, but I keep my cool, and as it attacks again I rush in to meet it and plunge my little dagger right into its neck!” More gasps. “But I didn’t escape unharmed, oh no. I may have come off better, but the monster gave me something to remember it by.” He lifted his shirt and Blaise almost laughed out loud. This man clearly knew none of his crowd would be able to tell an old sword-wound from a Meld’s claws, and was making the most of the opportunity. “So now, ladies and gentlemen, I have brought to you the fruit of my endeavours, the skin of the mighty beast!” He reached down into the crate and pulled out a bearskin. A plain old bearskin, no Meld this. Chuckling to himself, Blaise moved on.

He made his way through the stalls, browsing lightly and not really paying any attention. Every now and again a shout would catch his attention, but nothing worth sticking around for. He was nearly out, right on the far side of the Gates, when he heard something to make him stay.

“Soldiers needed! Guardians for caravans headed to the four corners of the world! Come in here and sign up to see the world and earn your keep!” That’s more like it, Blaise thought.

“Where are you headed?” he asked the crier. The man eyed him up briefly, noting the tunic, cloak and ring.

“We have trains headed out to Trivandor, Mirmida, Gulgottir, Sairacuse, the Maughold, Anaburg…” He paused, consulting his list, but Blaise cut in before he could carry on.

“Mirmida would be good. I haven’t been down that way in years.”

“Then apply to Master Parrail. He’s the big chap with the furs, amber and baccy. Take a right there-” The man indicated back the way Blaise had come to a stall stocked with feathers in all the colours of the rainbow and thronged with women and their doting husbands. “He’s about ten stalls down that way.”

Blaise strode away, glad to have found a new way out of the city. He found Master Parrail’s stall with no trouble and introduced himself.

“I hear you’re headed down to Mirmida,” he said.

“And you’d be welcome to ride with us. Can’t put a price on knowing the road ahead, Watcher,” replied Parrail, casting a wary eye over him, taking in Blaise’s easy stance, noting with approval that his right hand never strayed far from the hilt of his sabre. “What’s your cost?”

“Ten gold, food and board.”

“Five.”

“Eight.”

“Seven gold, and I’ll throw in a whetstone for your blade.” Blaise frowned.

“Make it that amber necklace instead and you’ve got a deal.” Parrail shrugged and handed the item over. Blaise was sure his sister would appreciate it as a little leaving gift.

“ We’re heading out at first light tomorrow, assuming we shift enough stock today.” Blaise raised a querying eyebrow. “We will. Valenti’s full of people looking to throw money away.”

“True enough,” he agreed, smiling lightly. “Where are you lodging?”

“The White Hart, out towards the wall.”

“I know it. I’ll be there in good time.”

Blaise turned away, immensely pleased to be getting out on the road again. Valenti, sprawling metropolis though it was, had been starting to feel claustrophobic.
I hope I am a good enough writer that some day dwarves kill me and drink my blood for wisdom.

#2 mike_

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Posted 07 June 2010 - 05:09 PM

Varashi de Ugratara walked alone. Then again, that was a contradiction in the crowded streets of Valenti - nobody was by themselves in those streets packed with humanity.

Not that Varashi was human - she was Drow, and proud of it. Never mind the billowy robes that clung to her slight frame, or the overlarge shield upon her hip. The many rings upon her arms were another facet of her heritage. She was not entirely Drow, though - she was the daughter of a Paladin, and a true one devoted to the Light, at that.

The Men following her not devoted to the Light, however. Their auras were devoid of any semblance of righteousness, purity, or divine belief - it was like a cancer on the land. Varashi sniffed derisively. Their intentions towards her were quite clear, and she did not like what she saw in their mutual future. Very well - it was not technically her duty as djinnate to smite mortals who posed a danger to society, but on a personal level she felt it imperative to remove these threats to society before they infected others with their evil ways.

To that end, she quickly turned out of the crowd and into a space between two tall buildings, which cast a heavy shade on the alley. It was clean, all things considered - and at the other end of the back street a couple of bored-looking mercenaries were chatting idly. They started when she'd appeared just shy of halfway towards them, then grinned lewdly and advanced on her, drawing their weapons. One fixed a leather-and-iron helmet on his skull as he noticed her khanda was out of its sheath.

Turning, she saw that the four or five Men who had first been following her through the streets of Valenti were not far from her, and equally surprised at their counterparts opposite her. They shouted curses at them for trying to take what was rightfully theirs, much to Varashi's chagrin.

Using her predators' pause against her, Varashi turned on her original pursuers and threw a whirling chakram at the leading man. He was reaching for a dagger on his belt when the chakram caught him in the throat, bringing him down in a red explosion. His companions stepped over him, now cursing her. Varashi spun now on the pair of armed mercenaries with her khanda in both hands, parried the first blow from the helmeted man's broadsword. She spoke a word, muffled by the cloths swaddling her face, and her Power erupted in a precise blow on his chest - the mercenary was thrown backwards and into his ally, sending both down in a heap.

She wouldn't be able to hold them all off for long - even if Varashi's faith in the Light and her own martial prowess held true, she would need more swords than her own to win her way out here.

#3 Vortigern

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Posted 07 June 2010 - 08:08 PM

Blaise left the market square, homeward bound. His new assignment lent speed and lift to his step and he found himself striding along, almost bouncing on his toes with each step. As he walked down one of the main thoroughfares he heard a scream, and turned to see; a woman was sprayed with arterial red, a nearly decapitated body lying at her feet. Blaise drew his sabre and approached carefully. It was unusual for brawls to break out in this part of the city, but not unknown. It wouldn't be long before the Grand Marshal's men descended on the scene, keeping the peace by force if necessary.

In the alleyway before him Blaise saw four unkempt men, wearing patched clothes but dressed so as to go largely unnoticed in the nicer parts of the city, two of the Landsknechten guardsmen and, in the centre of it all, a White Drow, unusual blade in hand. The body at his feet seemed like a companion of the foursome.

Sheathing his sword again, Blaise stepped forward. He grabbed the man closest to him, one of the ill-dressed four, by the hair, pulling him backwards and down, then crashed his elbow into the man's face before he had a chance to react. The man hit the ground hard and did not stir. One of his companions turned at the sound, straight into Blaise's fist. The force of the blow knocked him from his feet and he slid along the rain-slicked cobbles to within a yard of the Drow, who promptly leapt above him and delivered a fierce kick to his neck. Blaise winced as he heard something snap.

One of the unkempt men raised a dagger above his head and rushed at Blaise, obviously feeling he might have a better chance against an unarmed human than a proven deadly Drow. Mistakes number one and two, right there, narrated Blaise to himself. He brushed his assailant's knife hand aside and delivered a palm strike to the man's solar plexus; he dropped the knife clattering to the cobblestones and fell to his knees, gasping for breath. Poor fellow barely had a clue what he was doing.

Meanwhile the Drow had dealt with one of the Landsknechten by carving a lump of flesh out of his arm, though the other was holding her off with his short pike. Seizing the last of the would-be robbers by the throat and swiftly disarming him by grabbing his wrist and pressing down between the veins, Blaise stepped forward.

"That's enough!" he roared. "Put up your weapon, Drow. And you, soldier, can't you see who this girl is?" Blaise indicated the silver hammer embroidered on the white robes. "She is a new Paladin, one of the true shadowhunters. You should have known better." He flung the man in his grasp unceremoniously forward to land face down on the ground before the soldier. "Take him to the cells in the Gates and bring back some men to help clean this mess up. There's a dead man in the street back there and your partner will need some care taken of him." The soldier looked for a moment as though he might say something smart in return, but thought better of it, looking at first the Watcher's Ring on Blaise's right hand and then his partner's blood pooling on the ground, and simply nodded. He yanked the robber up from the ground and dragged him from the alleyway. The injured soldier scrambled to his feet and hurried after, good hand clamped firmly to his arm to stem the blood as best he could.

"I suppose I should thank you," announced the Drow. "I am Varashi de Ugratara, and as you so rightly noticed, I am of the Reformed Order of the Stricken Hammer."

"Blaise d'Iurivar," he replied, extending a hand in formal greeting. She clasped it in the traditional warrior's grip. "You know, you can't go around carving up guardsmen in this city," he advised. "There are laws in place and the Landsknechten enforce them. I doubt they'd take too kindly to someone who attacked their kith, even a Hammer like yourself." He raised a hand, gesturing towards the flurry and bustle of the larger streets. "Shall we?"
I hope I am a good enough writer that some day dwarves kill me and drink my blood for wisdom.

#4 Copaman

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Posted 08 June 2010 - 01:45 AM

((This thread looks like fun, I think I'll join it. :p ))

Vieran and Liiara had left the Keep months earlier, directed by their King and mentor to find some way to practice their art on worthy foes. Their passage through the mountains was unhindered - they respected the dwarves they came across, and in turn were respected. They saw no need to tarnish their race's name further; while Rethalar was doing his best to be peaceful, play diplomat, and lead his people to their seat in the world, the Prodigies knew it would take time for the Deathknelve to be recognized not as mercenaries, rebels, and a scattered band of ruthless killers, but as a true unified people with good intentions.

They had trekked through the mountains at a decent pace - leaving very early in spring so as to avoid the harsh winter in the mountains as best they could, and arriving in Valenti about midspring. The two were only in for a quick stop and to pick another destination to travel to on their adventure; after their first few nights on the town, they decided to go east and see Mirmida, a land that neither had seen previously and a welcome break from their time in the west.

Presently they strode together through one of the markets of the city, identities pleasantly in the open (after the recapture of Shadowfang Keep, Rethalar worked extremely hard just to gain some kind of neutral attitude for the deathkelve - previously, Vieran and Liiara would have had to have worn hoods to hide their identities as best as possible) despite the unavoidable stares and slight backsteps of the oncomers. The occasional expletive and accompanying hate speech from somewhere in the crowd only brought smug smiles to Vieran's face: he wanted nothing more than to snake his way through the crowd, find the poor human, and carve his tongue out through the soft spot under his lower jaw. But. He knew he had to keep himself in check.

Liiara knew what he was thinking. "You know better, V. Tom told us what he was going through in the weeks after the reclamation. We can't afford to step too far out of line - anything major like that and we'd be playing in to stereotypes.

"And that's why you're my better half, Li. Because you know that if you weren't here, I probably would've gone for it. If only we were on the road..."

"You don't have to wait for very long. I believe that there's a caravan heading out for Mirmida soon - we should try for it. And what do you mean, if only...? You haven't grown a day past thirty," she joked to him.

"Youth is all in the mind - especially for those of us who live forever," came his response. "Now, where did you hear of the caravan?"

"The Mercury Gates, a high end trading district. I've been leading you there this entire time."

"No wonder I don't travel without you..."

"Mhmm. You'd be lost a thousand times over. And probably dead too."

"You have no faith in my own abilities?"

"Like I said - not a day past thirty. You still have all of that young arrogance,"

And so they teased each other back and forth, all the way to the Master Parrail's stall - Liiara had spoken to the recruiter while Vieran was still trying to recuperate from the last night's shenanigans.

"We'd like to join your train headed to Mirmida," said Vieran when the man had gotten somewhat clear of a crowd. "I spoke to the recruiter earlier and he said to seek you out," continued Liiara. "We've got plenty of experience. A great addition to your team if you were to ask us."

"Well," replied the Master, "You'd have to work alongside humans. Some of whom may not... agree with the fact that you're on the trail. Would you be able to restrain yourselves?"

"We said -" Liiara jumped in before Vieran could say something stupid. In his head he continued, we were experienced, not that we were lawless murderers.
"We will do fine. I keep him in check well enough. Although don't expect a high level of restraint if we find ourselves confronted with opposition."

The Master eyed her frame quickly. Slender but not fragile. Perfectly proportioned in all the right places. Nice face, too. He looked quickly to Vieran and gave a sort of nod not uncommon as a social note to other men - Vieran knew the nod and laughed slightly. Despite their partnership for decades, he had yet to fully enjoy her body. The Master, obviously, assumed the contrary.

"You'll fit, I think. We leave on the morrow. What were you looking for as far as payment goes?"

"Six gold each, with food and board. We walk otherwise - I'm sure we can find some other adventure to go on. It'd be your mistake to let us go though."

"Oh really? You're awfully sure of yourselves. I could have more men in a heartbeat."

"That's the key. You could have more men." Vieran withdrew one of his swords from its sheath just enough, and made sure the master saw the runing on the blade. "I don't carry these because I'm a pushover. The two of us served together through the siege of the Maughold, most notably in King Rethalar's personal guard. After that, he took us under his wing and mentored us in the ways of combat. From there we took back Shadowfang Keep and continued to learn from his Highness. Now we're here."

"And how do I know you're for real?"

Liiara stepped forward. She pointed to a spot on the ground and smiled as the master watched a small flame come into being. A few notes of song, and Vieran held up his hands to show the faint glow of a protective spell.

"Believe us?"

"Well enough, yes. Where are you currently staying?"

"We're in the Tin and Lint, by the wall. Do you know it?"

"Absolutely. I'll see you bright and early then."

"That you will."

The two turned and left, out of the trading square and back onto the streets. As they passed an alleyway, a guardsman ran out clutching his arm, blood more or less gushing from the wound. They walked back towards the alley in time to see a Watcher and a White Drow - robe soaked in someone's blood, presumably the guard's - emerge. They took notice that the Drow was not a rogue agent but in fact a member of the Stricken Hammer. "The Drow was not the attacker. She was the attacked. The watcher... I'm not sure about. Let's inquire further," suggested Liiara.

She led Vieran at a quick walk to the heels of the Watcher. A gentile tap on the shoulder, and he whirled around to face her. The Drow stopped on queue. Vieran noticed that none of their hands strayed too far from their hilts - an obvious sign that they were weary of any pursuing Landsknechten.

"Sir," began Liiara, "my companion and I saw yourself and your companion" - she motioned to the Drow - "come from that alleyway a bit back." She looked at the Drow. "I don't mean to point out the obvious, but you have a bit of blood on your tunic. I know a small bit of healing magics, by chance you're hurt." Gesturing to a small pack on her hip, slung from a long strap around her shoulder, she added, "I've got a spare white tunic and some clean linen bandages if you'd like those as well. At least the fresh tunic won't draw as much attention to you."

Posted Image

 

If you meet me:

Have some courtesy,

Have some sympathy,

And some taste.

Use all your well-learned politesse,

Or I'll lay your soul to waste.


#5 mike_

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Posted 08 June 2010 - 04:15 AM

"Thank you for the offer, but I am fine," Varashi said, "it is not mine. If you'll excuse me... Bí íon." She gestured down at herself, her robes, from which the blood drifted out like smoke and coalesced into a crimson ball at her eye level. "Scaipeadh." The sphere dispersed, the molecules spreading out and about to float away on the wind and evaporate.

Blaise perked an eyebrow at the trick. "I didn't know you could do that," he said in surprise.

"It is standard training for djinnate inductees to learn how to manifest their power in such a fashion," Varashi droned, mechanically and emotionless. She then said, "For where are you bound, from here? I do not think that you are one to be aimless," she turned her hooded gaze to the Deathknelve, "and neither do the two of you."

#6 {IP}jimmyman

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Posted 08 June 2010 - 05:24 AM

(OOC: Hope using Blaise as short as possible isn't a problem Vort)

Don was tired. He severely needed rest and a drink, and he was worn down from the flight to Valenti. He walked the streets with his companion Sollemnis, "Sholl," Rauniri, a Minotaur who had accompanied him since their caravan was attacked near Anaburg. He trudged down the dirty street and noticed an odd crowd standing huddled by an alleyway.
"What the bloody hell...is that a Drow," he said pointing at the white clad figure.

"Not know, friend. Look out of place," Sholl quickly responded.

"Damn right ye' are. I hate them evil Drow," he drew his poleaxe, "lemme stick it."

"I wouldn't. Look tough," Sholl hoisted his hammer to his shoulder and stared at the group.

Don tensed, he watched as the Drow drew the blood from its tunic and dispersed it. He thought something foul of the being, and sought to destroy it. Sholl looked indifferent. He hadn't encountered many Drow, and knew better than Don did to judge at first sight. He carefully watched Don though, he knew better than to let the Dwarf get away with his rage.

"Screw this lad, i'm chargin' the bloody dark arse!"

Don charged towards the group, lowering his poleaxe straight for the Drow. The group heard Don coming and swung about, hands going to hilts. But what stopped them was the Minotaur taking a few strides to catch the Dwarf and hold him up by the cloak. Interested, the group paused what they were doing and stared.

"Blasted bull! Put me down, lemme run through this creature of shadow."

"Don not smart, sorry for interrupt."

"Don't apologize for me ye' ass! I'm not sorry bout nothin'! Lemme at em'!"

The group continued to stare till the man started to chuckle.

"Put him down Minotaur, i'm sure we can hold him off. I am Blaise d'Iurivar, a Watcher, and you?"

"I Sollemnis Rauniri, but you may call Sholl."

"I'll talk tae the damned human, I am Donlokie, Master Dwarf Smith of Oster. Why keep such harsh company," Don said noticing the Deathknleves near him.

"Have you never heard the phrase 'Do not judge a book by its cover'?" queried the human. "Settle yourself down and perhaps I will teach you its meaning."

"I don't approve of you stopping me Sholl, but at least we have something to do now," he said as he stuffed his poleaxe back in its holder, "let's head out then."
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#7 Copaman

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Posted 08 June 2010 - 02:03 PM

"We're heading for Mirmida - the two of us... got bored of the west. Are you headed anywhere?" replied Vieran.

Liiara interrupted quickly, "I'm sorry. My friend has forgotten his manners and I feel that introductions may be somewhat appropriate. I am Liiara Sunsender, and he is Vieran Lightfoot. As Vieran said, we got bored of the west and so we're headed for Mirmida."

Despite the budding conversation, Vieran whipped around to spot the figure he heard coming towards them through the crowd. At about human chest level, he found the face of a dwarf, focused and angry, moving towards him as fast as its short legs could carry it, brandishing a poleaxe. A meter or so higher, and he found the real problem - a minotaur. The dwarf wouldn't be an issue to dispatch - it was too focused and its weapon was large; the dwarf was moving too fast to block the quick draw and slash of Vieran's sword at its neck. But the minotaur would take more than a simple sweeping motion to take down.

Until it reached out and grabbed the dwarf from behind. The fact that the dwarf's feet were no longer on the ground seemed to anger it - it was half yelling at the bull to let it down. Something about running a creature of shadow through. Vieran didn't get it. There was no creature of shadow here.

Slowly it seemed to dawn on the dwarf that the odds were stacked. He calmed down somewhat while the bull apologized on his behalf, and then the bull set him down. The Watcher introduced himself to the bull, who was in control, the dwarf tried to interject, and the obligatory racial remark came out. The Watcher's calm demeanor finally settled the dwarf, who holstered his weapon, and the group continued to walk, dwarf and bull in tow.

Liiara turned back to the Drow. "As I was saying... are you shipping off to some foreign land?"

Vieran addressed the Watcher, Blaise. "What about yourself?"

Posted Image

 

If you meet me:

Have some courtesy,

Have some sympathy,

And some taste.

Use all your well-learned politesse,

Or I'll lay your soul to waste.


#8 Vortigern

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Posted 09 June 2010 - 10:56 AM

Blaise smiled. It seemed the gods often had ways of throwing together those in need.

"I too am headed to Mirmida, as guard to a merchant convoy owned by a Master Parrail. I cannot, however, speak for this lady." He nodded to the Drow stood at his side. The one called Vieran laughed.

"No man can ever speak for a lady," he agreed. "And as fate would have it, we too are engaged to watch over Parrail's men and goods on the south-east road."

"Then I daresay our paths were destined to cross," replied Blaise thoughtfully. "Would you agree to a drink somewhere hereabouts? I often find it useful to know my companions before being forced to rely upon them." The male Deathknelf nodded in acquiescence. "Perhaps the dwarf and the minotaur would like to join us?"
I hope I am a good enough writer that some day dwarves kill me and drink my blood for wisdom.

#9 mike_

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Posted 09 June 2010 - 02:49 PM

"I too am bound for Mirmida - it is where the Light must shine, and soon," Varashi said, however cryptically.

#10 {IP}jimmyman

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Posted 09 June 2010 - 05:34 PM

"Darn right ye' are, i want me some beer. That fine with you Sholl?" Don looked up at his lumbering companion.

"Fine by me friend."

Don looked once more towards the Drow, studying the strangeness of her.

"Oi! Drow. Why're ye' so weird? What's so different about ye'?"

She glanced back at him, yet kept walking. This just made him more mad so he confronted the Watcher.

"Erm...Blaise, ye' thinks we could travel with ye' to Mirmida? I hate bein' in cities for a prolonged time."
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#11 Copaman

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Posted 13 June 2010 - 01:20 AM

Liiara looked at the drow with a clear look of curiosity on her face. "What makes you say that the light must shine upon Mirmida?" The two seemed to carry on their own conversation while Vieran and Blaise contemplated where to get a drink.

"I don't have mush of a sense as to where we could find a could pint in this city... it's our first time here. You look at home though. Where do you think we should head off to?"

Posted Image

 

If you meet me:

Have some courtesy,

Have some sympathy,

And some taste.

Use all your well-learned politesse,

Or I'll lay your soul to waste.


#12 mike_

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Posted 13 June 2010 - 02:49 AM

Varashi shrugged imperceptibly underneath her thick robes. "There is no chapter house to be found within the bounds of Mirmida as of yet," her voice was deadpan and confident, but here gained a note of pride. "Therefore, the Light must be established there and spread itself upon the land like the primordial torch."

"That makes some sense, I suppose, "Liiara said, "you Hammers are a common feature of most cities from here to our homeland."

Varashi smiled behind her veil, but was careful to keep the emotion out of her voice as she replied, "Yes - that would be the doing of my father, and those Paladins like him who turned back to the Light following the Fall and Great Battle."

"Our King was involved in that - if the one you refer to is the Siege of the Maughold, of course." Liiara did nothing to hide her own emotion, there, choosing rather to bask in it. "That was a great day for the Deathknelve - our King was one of the leaders of the defense, and after that victory, took back the Keep and restored us to our natural place in the world." Her voice beamed.

"That is the history of those events, yes." Varashi sensed that this conversation was going south, fast, though her companion did not know it and would not like what she was about to discover.

Liiara did not heed her attempt at being tight-lipped, and mused, "Your father. You said that he is a Paladin, yes?"

"Since Reformed. As am I."

"But... before? You mean to say that he was not always a true servant of the Light?"

"No, no," Varashi beckoned her arms in distress, loosing her control of the situation, "he and I have both been servants of that which is good our entire lives. Those that were superior to us, however... they were not so pure. They were greedy, and swayed us and themselves from the righteous path to one of darkness and slaughter. The smoke was heavy with the stench of death, that night."

"You were there?" Liiara's voice was becoming one of incredulity and shock as her newfound friend's history was revealed.

"Yes." Varashi's voice was quiet, remote.

"And for whom did you fight for? The defenders," she paused, weighing her words, "or the attackers?"

Varashi stopped and said, "My father. I fought for my father and those like him."

They waited awkwardly to see if anyone else noted the disturbance.

#13 Vortigern

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Posted 13 June 2010 - 02:24 PM

Blaise and Vieran had both noticed the awkward words exchanged between Liiara and Varashi, and hastened to step in as the inevitable lull opened up.

"So, we were thinking we'd head over to the Green Man," announced Blaise. "It's not too far from here and the ceilings are high enough to let them cater to a more eclectic crowd," he added, nodding at the towering Minotaur.

"Sounds ideal," agreed Varashi, and the moment passed.

* * * * * * * *

The Green Man was much as advertised: high, vaulted ceilings interspersed with heavy oak beams, fire roaring in the hearth and all manner of creatures providing the tavern with their custom. Blaise spotted a few more White Drow, a single other Deathknelf, a pair of elves, a couple of unmissable Minotaur and plenty of dwarves happy to enjoy their ale wherever it was purveyed.

"Anybody have any preference as to finding a table?" asked Blaise to a chorus of apathy. "Good enough, then." They settled at a long, fairly high table up next to the side wall of the main room, Sholl immediately plonking himself down on the floor and occupying roughly half the available space.

"Shift up, ye great lummox," said Don, attempting to push the Minotaur aside and achieving nothing. Grunting in amusement, Sholl moved slightly, reaching across and pulling a tall chair up to the table for Don and obligingly lifting the dwarf into his appointed seat, happily ignoring the diminutive figure's protests.

"Make yourselves comfortable," Blaise suggested, as he and Vieran returned with six tankards of various sizes. "We weren't sure what everyone wanted so we all get the same thing. Great stuff here, though," he continued, smacking his lips as the beer went down very nicely. "So, what's everyone's story?"
I hope I am a good enough writer that some day dwarves kill me and drink my blood for wisdom.

#14 {IP}jimmyman

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Posted 13 June 2010 - 11:16 PM

Don waited patiently as everyone's drinks were handed about. After overhearing the awkward conversation, he respected the Drow so much more for being a paladin, but was still in the dark as to whether she was an attacker at the Battle of the Maughold, or a defender.

"Blaise speaking to you," said Sholl.

"Thanks, ye' caring bastard," he looked at Blaise, and the crowd surrounding them at the table, "lemme' get me bearing. Alright, i was born in Oster eighty-seven summers ago. I lost both me parents when we lived out of Oster during the fifth year of me life in a village. Me closest friend, relative, and savior took me in: me brther. He raised me as i am today, and taught me the evil in the world. He taught me all my skills, being one of the greatest Smiths in Oster. I left three years after learning my skills, much to his dismay. I journeyed so far before some bastard Vyre found me his enemy and chased me. That's how i found this big fella," he reached over and slapped Sholl on the back, the bull smiled, "i can say after a month with him, he is me closest friend now. And now i'm with all ye', and i wish to continue to travel. I can feel ye' all growin' on me anywho."

The rest of the group looked at him a little strange, but smiled nonetheless. All except that bastard Drow in her white gown.

"Milady, i'm sorry for me rudeness against ye' i feel obligated to apologize, though it hurts me to do so. I've got respect for ye as a servant of the light." he said to Varashi.

Edited by Copaman, 14 June 2010 - 12:24 AM.
see OOC thread

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#15 Vortigern

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Posted 16 June 2010 - 10:29 AM

((Just as I suspected. Stories require action.))

It was the morning after the night before. The sun was just making its way above the horizon, and Blaise was already up and about, trotting down to the White Hart where Master Parrail and his goods train awaited, mounted on a tall grey gelding he had picked out from the Watcher stables. He had decided to call it Delain. To his surprise, the two deathknelve were already at the inn. He bade them a good morning and directed Delain away to find Parrail, in order to introduce Varashi, Don and Sholl so the merchant would not be too surprised when he found himself with a Minotaur on his hands.

"And I suppose they'll all expect payment too?" grumbled Parrail.

"Honestly, I think they'll just be earning their keep along with the train. They seem to have some quite useful skills between them," Blaise replied, hoping he would be proven right. Honestly, he didn't know enough about any of them to suggest what use they might be. "How soon do we move out?"

"As soon as everyone's got all their stuff loaded, which should be in about five minutes. Then we'll be meeting the rest of our convoy outside the walls."

"How big will this convoy be?"

"Five trains and a bunch of regular folk lookin' to set up somewhere new. You'll want to watch out for some of them, they'll run fixed dice games and then knife you anyway if you're not careful." Blaise laughed at that.

"I'm a Watcher, Parrail," he replied. "I can take care of myself. But maybe I'll keep an eye on them anyway. Wouldn't do to have innocent folks getting stabbed for the sake of a few pennies." Parrail shrugged. "What, did they pay in advance?" The merchant grinned. A tall, skinny man came up behind Parrail then.

"We're all done here," he announced. Parrail nodded.

"Wagons roll!" he shouted, and the vague morning hubbub instantly increased threefold. "Your friends had best hurry up or they'll miss us," he added to Blaise.
I hope I am a good enough writer that some day dwarves kill me and drink my blood for wisdom.

#16 mike_

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Posted 16 June 2010 - 05:23 PM

Varashi sat contemplatively atop her own horse, a roan mare she'd borrowed from the local chapter house. The horse was calm, like her, which she appreciated.

She saw that the convoy was moving out, so coerced the steed to move up near the front. She checked her gear as they maneuvered to her chosen position; she had two chakram restraining the billowy robes on both arms, another 'round her neck, right above the silver-embroidered hammer on her chest, and three more on various, easily-concealable but comfortable places on the horse's harness. She'd affixed her khanda to the left saddle-bags, for ease of motion when atop the tall horse.

The Sun was bright, but Varashi did not mind - she had learned early on in her life that it was a thing of beauty, a very personification of the Light which she and so many others (but not enough) worshiped and relied on for strength. It was to be a fair journey.

#17 Copaman

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Posted 17 June 2010 - 07:14 PM

Vieran and Liiara had retrieved their mounts from the stables they had been boarded at - no one in their right minds would attempt crossing the mountains on foot alone. As the convoy began to move out, both check their weapons and bags, made sure they had every belonging one last time, and then brought their horses to a quick trot in order to ride alongside Blaise and Varashi.

Liiara looked to the Watcher. "Where is the first stop of this convoy?"

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If you meet me:

Have some courtesy,

Have some sympathy,

And some taste.

Use all your well-learned politesse,

Or I'll lay your soul to waste.


#18 {IP}jimmyman

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Posted 18 June 2010 - 04:50 AM

Don laid back nicely in his and Sholl's wagon, yup the same one he'd brought with him from that town outside Oster. He was pleased it was still with him. He leaned forward and peered out of the flap he'd cut, gazing towards the Watcher and the Drow riding in front of his wagon.

"Ye' bloody human, when i get the chance i'll thank ye for bringin' me along."

"Don, we go to mountains. Then place called Mirmida."

"The bloody hell? Just when i thought i'd gotten away from civilization. Oh well. Keep yer eyes peeled my friend. Shady people be about."

And with that, Don put his head back and fell asleep.
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#19 Vortigern

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Posted 19 June 2010 - 09:23 AM

"Pelicor, along the Trivante coast. My guess is we'll only be there for a couple of days at most, then head on down to Askaron, then Mirmida proper." Liiara nodded in understanding.

"Have you made this journey before?" she enquired.

"Twice, but not in recent years." He didn't elaborate. There might be time for that later, but really he simply did not wish to go into detail about his encounters in the Cities. "Last time I was in Mirmida was-" he thought for a moment. "Flaming hell, twelve years ago. That makes me feel old."

"If it helps, I'm 137 years old," she told him. Blaise looked her up and down, then sighed.

"Well that's just not fair."

* * * * * * * * *

Three days later the sun set on the caravan making camp some way off the coastal road, near the top of a hill overlooking a small cove. Blaise sat with Varashi and Parrail as the wagons were drawn into a circle around the tents as families and travellers pitched them where they felt was safest.

"We'll have three groups on patrol at any time," said Blaise, looking over the hillside. "Working in shifts, in groups of four. Nobody is to move out alone." Varashi nodded, understanding the virtue of what Blaise said. Parrail did the same.

"Chances are we'll be in for an uneventful night," said the merchant.

"Regardless, it's best to be prepared," replied Varashi. Blaise offered her a half-smile of agreement, which she returned.

"I'll pull the troops together, then," Blaise declared.

As night fell, Blaise found himself on patrol with Varashi and two of Parrail's regulars, a lanky, bearded man called Stark and a burly brawler type with a scar running from above his right eye down to the left side of his jaw, from which he took his nickname: Scarface. When Blaise had first heard that he had laughed for nearly a full five minutes, though that was mainly due to the comments he, Vieran and Don had made at the time. Scarface had looked more than a little disgruntled.

Varashi had changed out of her luminescent white robes for the sake of the graveyard shift, clad now in simple robes of grey linen. The darker it became, the harder it became to see her, and Blaise started to wonder if it mightn't have been better for her to keep the white. At least then he'd know where she was. Of course, there was an old Watcher trick he could use, but if he did so for more than a few minutes it would destroy his vision permanently, so he figured it was best to save that one for an emergency.

"Trireme," murmured Varashi at his side. Blaise looked around, not spotting it for a moment, but then he saw it. In the bay just around the hill they now traversed on their patrol, the mast and ballista tower of a trireme were just becoming visible.

"Stark, go with Varashi, head downhill, see what you can. Be careful. You know how to find us again." He beckoned Scarface. "We're going up." From the top of the hill, Blaise and Scarface got an almost unobscured view of the ship and its crew.

"Pirate scum," muttered Scarface. "But a bloody lot of them." Blaise grunted in acquiescence.

"We need to keep an eye on them. They might be happy to camp here for the night and not even bother us."

"Not likely."

"No," Blaise agreed. "They'll be scouting too, and a caravan always looks like an easy target. Hold up a moment." Blaise pulled a little bronze plate from his pocket, holding it up as he brought a flame to life from his fingers. "Varashi?" he said into the plate.

"I'm here, Blaise," came Varashi's voice. Scarface frowned.

"That's a handy trick," he said.

"Watchers are worth their weight in gold," said Varashi. "I'd guess about two hundred of them, all told, and at least some of them are spoiling for a fight. They haven't sent out any scouts that I've seen, but they will, and when they find us they'll come after us."

"Stay here and keep an eye on them. If you see any sentries or they start moving, get back to camp and rouse everyone. If you're not here back in a few hours I'll send relief."

"Understood." Blaise spread his fingers out and the flame disappeared. He slipped the bronze disc back into his pocket and signalled Scarface to follow him back to the camp.

"Any chance you could teach me that little trick?" asked the soldier. Blaise grinned at him.

"Of course, if you feel like signing on with my order." Scarface weighed it up.

"Not worth it. I'll just keep you around."
I hope I am a good enough writer that some day dwarves kill me and drink my blood for wisdom.

#20 {IP}jimmyman

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Posted 21 June 2010 - 06:48 AM

Don was chuckling to himself as he sat in the wagon with Sholl. He stuck his head out of the tarp and looked about, noticing how quiet the camp had become.

"Well laddie, be ready fer a fight," he said as he hoisted an axe and jumped from the back of the wagon.
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