Connection and Contention (IC)

**TheWombatOfDoom** · 2012-08-08, 09:21 AM (ISO 8601)

CONNECTION & CONTENTION

Index:
Recruitment Thread
(Tell your friends!)
In Character Thread
(I don't know why you'd click on it if you're already here, but still.)
Out of Character Thread
(For Setting Details and Discussion)

~

In the realm of Arteria, people live and die, love and hate, come and go. Stories come from every way of life, from Paupers to Priests, Kings to Killers. Some seek vengeance, others reward, and others look for comfort. But each of us is searching for something in the end. Each has a part to play in the Grand Scheme, and some may never even know what they did. Everything is connected through our actions. Guilds contend and enemies rally against the other. From the Empire of the Seven Dragons, to the coasts along The Reach, trouble is brewing. The world is ever a change, and all we can do is attempt to come out on top, or die trying.

~

Open spoiler for the Map of the continent Arteria:

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**TheWombatOfDoom** · 2012-08-14, 07:02 AM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by Graeden Leventhair

Starting us all off!

Graeden yawned widely as he observed the sun rising with approval. Means I can go soon, he thought happily. The sleepy guard was one of the many guards that compromised this week’s night watch. Each week, a new group would be cycled in, and Graden happened to have picked the short straw this week. As he reached one of the many round turrets along the massive city wall, he stopped and peered out across the country side south of the city. He sucked in the morning air, and let it out with an explosive sigh. He was going to sleep well tonight. A party of raiding orcs from The Reach had made the night more interesting than most, claiming that their quarry was inside and began ordering Graeden and his men to open the south gate. That didn’t sit too well with the commander of Graeden’s platoon. After a few moments of shouting back and forth, warning shots were fired amongst the orc party, and the noisy leader began to curse. They moved on shortly their after without further encouragement.

Graeden began return path down his section of the wall, this time looking into the city. It already showed signs of life. Shop owners getting wares ready for the day, runners running messages here or there, smoke rising from glassblowers, bakeries and blacksmiths. I’ll never get used to this backwards shift, he said to himself grumpily. “Everyone’s starting while I’m about to go to sleep. Good thing I live alone. Last thing I need is something keeping me up.”

The sun was gleaming off buildings now. The cathedrals to the Parthenon rising out over toward the Temple District gleamed brilliantly in their gilded roofs and stylized crenulations. The Old Palace and Council Building sprang over the cityscape just behind them in the Noble District. He wondered briefly who designed the city in the first place. Whoever it was was thinking strategically, he thought as he admired the fact that no buildings were placed up against the wall. Even the buildings were planned well. They grew in size as they progressed into the city, making defenders always have the height advantage. Graeden hoped it would never come to something like that, but he felt comforted by the fact that it was in place - in case. As he was staring off, he got tapped on the shoulder. He started, and turned. His relief was here. “Ambros!” he said heartily, “Aren’t you a sight for medusa to look upon!”

“And not a moment too soon, it seems,” said Ambros with a laugh. “Looked like you were getting the long stare.” They exchanged information of the happenings of the night, and when all was said, Ambros clapped Graeden on the back. “Sleep well my friend. Sleep well.”

As Graeden sleepily wandered off to bed, he wondered a bit sadly what exactly he’d miss while he slept.

**Monodominant** · 2012-08-14, 08:18 AM (ISO 8601)

Posted by Deneth Vims

Paperwork, paperwork paperwork.

Those were the three key words of his position these days.

The council demanded constant updates.
The guilds requested constant updates.
The men and women under his command needed constant updates.

Sure, he had lieutenants for this short of thing but ever since Lieutenant Annika Firles had left the force he really could not trust anyone. One third of his command was probably 'politicals'... one way or another affiliated with either 'The Particulars' or other shadowy organisation. The rest were generally... good people.

With a long drawn out sigh he opened the desk drawer and glanced at the bottle of gnomish whiskey... 8 years and counting... ever since that damned priest had told him he would not approve any more Longevity elixirs if he kept squandering his years with the drink.

He rubbed his eyes and closed the drawer. One more all nighter and yet 2 stacks of reports, requisitions and requests were on his desk. He could hear the soft snoring of the corporal outside that was his aid and he wished he could have as few worries as that 'green' boy did. He leaned back on his chair, glancing at the fire place and as always pondering the tossing of all papers in the flames 'a freak accident' he would call it.

With a tired smile he got up and looked out his window. The Mage Quarter precinct had prospered even more in the past few years. Less arcane activity meant less cases he couldnt solve due to their very nature... more funds for his precinct meant that the already most well-funded and respected of the precincts got to flourish even more. A small stables, a bigger barracks and an armory had been added along with the latest set of refurbishments.

Deneth walked to his closet and took off his fancy shoes, opting for a pair of well-walked boots. Indeed as his predecessor had told him, worn out boots could read the streets. He opened his window, replaced his official looking coat with that of a beat sergeant and stepped unto the roof.

A route he had done so many times got him on the ground behind the precinct just as the patrolling guardsmen passed and he stayed in the shadows watching Aldhavens finest walk past him.

"Well, time for a short walk around the block!" he told himself as the morning mists began to clear and the city started coming alive.

**planswalker** · 2012-08-14, 08:28 AM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by Manor at House Astrine estates

Just outside of the city of Aldhaven, largest and most powerful of the free city-states of Asarenholm. The Astrines are the newest member of the Council of Ten. The mistress of this household, the countess Jana Astrine, spent her youth resurrecting the long-lost House Astrine with a combination of political maneuvering, financial backing, and the legitimacy of being the true heir to the family.

All through the decades of turmoil that ended with her at the head of the newest noble family in Aldhaven and the formation of the Council of Ten, whispers have abounded about her chief operative. Whenever something needed to be done... unofficially to aid her in her rise to power, things happened. Her chief adviser, a small fellow no bigger than an adolescent gnome was the target of endless rumors crediting him with these actions. His emerald scales covered every bit of visible flesh. The webbed spines that start at the center of his drakine forehead and split his head into parallel halves all the way down his neck are eerily identical to those of a green dragon. No one knows his real name, as he refers to himself as Greenwing Drake, chief servant of House Astrine.

In fact, almost nothing is known about this little fellow. Some claim he is a dragonspawn sent from Tiamat to influence politics in Asarenholm. Others think he's a half-dragon with his own agenda. Still others entertain the notion that he is Countess Astrine's secret first lover who has faithfully served and aided her since childhood. The one thing everyone can agree on is that the two have been together from the beginning. When the young woman first entered the Alhaven political scene fifty years ago, he was there too.

The truth is as strange as any rumors people have invented. When Jana was a little girl, a young halfling of draconic ancestry rescued her from some unsavory fae that had abducted her as part of a larger mission. He saw potential in the young girl and befriended her immediately. By the time she was ten, she had already gone on countless adventures with the little green dragon adept.

As she discovered her family's past and her own latent powers, this little green friend of hers was slowly transforming himself into a form that more closely resembled the dragons he revered. By the time he caught the public eye, he was already Greenwing Drake, the confidant of Jana Astrine.

After House Astrine was firmly established in the hierarchy of Aldhaven, Greenwing took on the position of chief adviser to House Astrine. This was a perfect cover for his true role as chief operative and problem-solver for Jana and her family. Whenever there was a matter too delicate to be dealt with officially or when someone's hands needed to be dirtied without catching the public eye, Greenwing Drake was House Astrine's answer.

This morning, House Astrine's boogeyman was snoring. He had spent a long and hard night brokering a deal with his counterpart in House Rocholl that the two would more closely associate their political goals in exchange for some... considerations in each direction. Things had gotten tense when Donnic tried to betray him and set his thugs to kill Greenwing Drake. It had been an exhausting fight to kill them all and then persuade Donnic to deal fairly with him, not to mention the hassle of disposing of all the bodies. Still, months of planning and successful negotiation just paid off. Greenwing had earned his rest.

Naturally, that meant of course that such would be the last thing he got today. Someone had broken into the palace in Aldhaven last night and had absconded with many valuable items from the noble families in Aldhaven. Among them was one of the few surviving relics of House Astrine's past, the Cup of Astrid. The thief had been spotted by the guards last night and things got ugly but he did manage to get away with his stolen loot.

Greenwing Drake had just gotten to sleep when a timid servant woke him to say, "Begging your pardon, sir, but mistress needs to see you."

Of course she does. Heavens know I dare to take even a day's rest between jobs. Greenwing thought drowsily as he roused. "Tell her that I will be awaiting her grace shortly."

Within ten minutes, the little green man was in conference with his closest friend and confidant, ready to once more give his all to helping her achieve her goals. "Jana, what is so urgent and critical that you couldn't have sent one of your other lackeys to start things while I took at least a short nap?" he asked her familiarly. He did not truly mind the inconvenience if she needed him right then, but he would have liked it if trouble could have at least taken the morning off.

**3SecondCultist** · 2012-08-14, 10:14 AM (ISO 8601)

Lanath

After what had felt like an eternity, the sun's rays finally reached through the fabric of the tent. Lanath could feel himself being dragged from his trance, the memories of his home fading away. He woke slowly, violet eyes scanning the room for threats. The tent was just as sparse as he had left it, his equipment hanging on the rack to his left. As he rose, the drow made sure to give his body time to stretch its muscles properly: in order to face the day, he needed to be ready.
Belt, scabbard, blade. Nwul tash. Pauldrons, gauntlets, greaves. Dwzol haskkun. Boots, cloak, spear. Wonoksh Nasus nun. After he had finished, Lanath Orcbane strode through the tent door and into the sun. He found that the light did little to disturb him anymore. Ten years above would do that to a drow. From his position, Lanath surveyed the encampment, nodding slowly at the efficacy of his troops. Tents were already being packed away, the cooking fires burning low. Many of his followers were already prepared for the march. In the blue distance, Lanath could barely make out the outline of a city. Aldhaven. There is a twinge of something within him: guilt perhaps?
It is beautiful - in a profane, surface dweller sort of manner, of course. I suppose I will be sad to see it reduced to ash. Then again, maybe not. Who knows how many long leagues we will cross before we set eyes of Aldhaven again? We have a ways to go yet. Clearing his head of idle thoughts, Lanath made his way over to one of the other tents and waited for his lieutenant to appear. It did not take very long. If nothing else, Lanath's troops were loyal.
"Aumerle! You have the Legion up and running right on schedule, but you know that is not why I am here. Take me to him." The other drow, nodding subserviently, led him into the space. In the cage by the corner lay a man, asleep. His breathing was shallow. Lanath nodded to Aumerle, the latter proceeding to give the prisoner a swift kick through the bars. Satisfied that he was being given the appropriate amount of attention, Lanath stood over the cage and addressed the man.
"Do you know why you are here? Can you tell me? I suppose I might need to refresh your memory. After all, my surgeon tells me you are suffering from several concussive injuries. Well, last night we kidnapped you from the Aldhaven branch of the Morganstern Society. You are our hostage, free to do with as we please. Do you have a name, at least? A real name, that is."

**Exalaber** · 2012-08-14, 11:46 AM (ISO 8601)

Ander of Brent, beginning his story

"Uncle, I only arrived last night, I haven't even said hello to everybody yet! Can't this wait?"
An older, rather heavy set man scowled at his nephew, his red face showing displeasure, and his blue eyes showing regret and sorrow. "No this cannot wait, not even the hour it would take to great your family, and young man, before you argue with me, as long as you are staying here in this house, against my better judgement I might add, you will listen to me! There is trouble brewing in this city, and if you are going to be here, I want you squared away with the society before it starts.
The rest of the walk down the long hall was taken in silence, the great black swaths of silk that hung draped from the ceiling and walls, embroidered with grotesque floral images in silver thread absorbed even the sound of their foot falls. They were both dressed lavishly in the same shade of black silk with the same silver thread at borders and seams, each man, young and old, slender, and fat, short and tall, elf and human, was absorbed in his own thoughts. As they passed the great doors at the far end of the hall, a black lacquered carriage led by white horses met them.

**TheWombatOfDoom** · 2012-08-14, 11:47 AM (ISO 8601)

Replying as Graeden Leventhair to Deneth

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Originally Posted by Deneth

Paperwork, paperwork paperwork.

Those were the three key words of his position these days.

The council demanded constant updates.
The guilds requested constant updates.
The men and women under his command needed constant updates.

Sure, he had lieutenants for this short of thing but ever since Lieutenant Annika Firles had left the force he really could not trust anyone. One third of his command was probably 'politicals'... one way or another affiliated with either 'The Particulars' or other shadowy organisation. The rest were generally... good people.

With a long drawn out sigh he opened the desk drawer and glanced at the bottle of gnomish whiskey... 8 years and counting... ever since that damned priest had told him he would not approve any more Longevity elixirs if he kept squandering his years with the drink.

He rubbed his eyes and closed the drawer. One more all nighter and yet 2 stacks of reports, requisitions and requests were on his desk. He could hear the soft snoring of the corporal outside that was his aid and he wished he could have as few worries as that 'green' boy did. He leaned back on his chair, glancing at the fire place and as always pondering the tossing of all papers in the flames 'a freak accident' he would call it.

With a tired smile he got up and looked out his window. The Mage Quarter precinct had prospered even more in the past few years. Less arcane activity meant less cases he couldnt solve due to their very nature... more funds for his precinct meant that the already most well-funded and respected of the precincts got to flourish even more. A small stables, a bigger barracks and an armory had been added along with the latest set of refurbishments.

Deneth walked to his closet and took off his fancy shoes, opting for a pair of well-walked boots. Indeed as his predecessor had told him, worn out boots could read the streets. He opened his window, replaced his official looking coat with that of a beat sergeant and stepped unto the roof.

A route he had done so many times got him on the ground behind the precinct just as the patrolling guardsmen passed and he stayed in the shadows watching Aldhavens finest walk past him.

"Well, time for a short walk around the block!" he told himself as the morning mists began to clear and the city started coming alive.

It was already starting to get busy by the time Graeden had stowed his possessions and checked out with the Watch. There was mention about some trouble in the city between a few colleagues, but that was always the case in this size of a city. The only nice thing about the Night Watch was that it wasn’t as busy as some other posts. In his tenure in this profession, he’d had his fair share of busy posts. Street patrol was one of the most dangerous, especially if you got the wrong district. Noble quarters were just high security, and with high security, came lots of pressure. Needless to say that one had a high turnover rate, even with the amount of hoops you had to jump through in order to land that job. Then there were the reports afterwards to file for each incident. Luckily, he didn’t have to be the sorry sap that had to READ all of those reports. Paperwork was more evil than most of the criminals he’d put away.

Graeden’s nostrils were flaring at the delicious smells coming from the nearest shop. Noting the sounds his stomach was making, he decided to make a stop before he went to sleep. He was always hungry after an overnight, and warm bread sounded good after the cool night. He quickened his step, rounded the corner, and nearly crashed into a Guard who was rounding the corner as well. And not only a guard, but a captain! He swore, and then swore for swearing. By that time he realize he wasn’t getting anywhere and clamped his mouth shut. To try and save the situation, he saluted briskly, and hoped for the best.

Replying as Jana Astrine to Greenwing Drake

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Originally Posted by Greenwing

This morning, House Astrine's boogeyman was snoring. He had spent a long and hard night brokering a deal with his counterpart in House Rocholl that the two would more closely associate their political goals in exchange for some... considerations in each direction. Things had gotten tense when Donnic tried to betray him and set his thugs to kill Greenwing Drake. It had been an exhausting fight to kill them all and then persuade Donnic to deal fairly with him, not to mention the hassle of disposing of all the bodies. Still, months of planning and successful negotiation just paid off. Greenwing had earned his rest.

Naturally, that meant of course that such would be the last thing he got today. Someone had broken into the palace in Aldhaven last night and had absconded with many valuable items from the noble families in Aldhaven. Among them was one of the few surviving relics of House Astrine's past, the Cup of Astrid. The thief had been spotted by the guards last night and things got ugly but he did manage to get away with his stolen loot.

Greenwing Drake had just gotten to sleep when a timid servant woke him to say, "Begging your pardon, sir, but mistress needs to see you."

Of course she does. Heavens know I dare to take even a day's rest between jobs. Greenwing thought drowsily as he roused. "Tell her that I will be awaiting her grace shortly."

Within ten minutes, the little green man was in conference with his closest friend and confidant, ready to once more give his all to helping her achieve her goals. "Jana, what is so urgent and critical that you couldn't have sent one of your other lackeys to start things while I took at least a short nap?" he asked her familiarly. He did not truly mind the inconvenience if she needed him right then, but he would have liked it if trouble could have at least taken the morning off.

Jana was pacing when Green came into her conference room. Haggard was paying his appearance a compliment. She was sure she looked much the same. Just having Green enter the room visibly calmed her, and she no longer felt the need to pace. She sank into a chair, and glanced at her attendant.

“Please pour Mr. Drake a drink, and then leave us.” The servant nodded, gave Greenwing what he requested, and then left, shutting the door behind.

“Please tell me the fact that you are still here and not out tracking that thief is part of the plan, Green.” She realized that came across harsher than she meant it. She sighed. “Sorry. I’m just…agitated that this happened at all.”

She took a deep breath and folded her hands in front of her at the table. “I know you’ve had a long night. We both have. But it’s more complicated than just the heirloom. You remember that legend we heard a few decades ago about a bracelet that enslaved an efreeti? It actually exists. And worse – it seems Zane has it. If he figures out what he’s stolen…” She let the warning hang in the air.

Replying as Almeran Delante to Lanath

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Originally Posted by Lanath

After what had felt like an eternity, the sun's rays finally reached through the fabric of the tent. Lanath could feel himself being dragged from his trance, the memories of his home fading away. He woke slowly, violet eyes scanning the room for threats. The tent was just as sparse as he had left it, his equipment hanging on the rack to his left. As he rose, the drow made sure to give his body time to stretch its muscles properly: in order to face the day, he needed to be ready.
Belt, scabbard, blade. Nwul tash. Pauldrons, gauntlets, greaves. Dwzol haskkun. Boots, cloak, spear. Wonoksh Nasus nun. After he had finished, Lanath Orcbane strode through the tent door and into the sun. He found that the light did little to disturb him anymore. Ten years above would do that to a drow. From his position, Lanath surveyed the encampment, nodding slowly at the efficacy of his troops. Tents were already being packed away, the cooking fires burning low. Many of his followers were already prepared for the march. In the blue distance, Lanath could barely make out the outline of a city. Aldhaven. There is a twinge of something within him: guilt perhaps?
It is beautiful - in a profane, surface dweller sort of manner, of course. I suppose I will be sad to see it reduced to ash. Then again, maybe not. Who knows how many long leagues we will cross before we set eyes of Aldhaven again? We have a ways to go yet. Clearing his head of idle thoughts, Lanath made his way over to one of the other tents and waited for his lieutenant to appear. It did not take very long. If nothing else, Lanath's troops were loyal.
"Aumerle! You have the Legion up and running right on schedule, but you know that is not why I am here. Take me to him." The other drow, nodding subserviently, led him into the space. In the cage by the corner lay a man, asleep. His breathing was shallow. Lanath nodded to Aumerle, the latter proceeding to give the prisoner a swift kick through the bars. Satisfied that he was being given the appropriate amount of attention, Lanath stood over the cage and addressed the man.
"Do you know why you are here? Can you tell me? I suppose I might need to refresh your memory. After all, my surgeon tells me you are suffering from several concussive injuries. Well, last night we kidnapped you from the Aldhaven branch of the Morganstern Society. You are our hostage, free to do with as we please. Do you have a name, at least? A real name, that is."

Alderan was NOT having a good night. It started off well enough. Certain items had been acquired, information had traded into the right hands, he’d found what he’d thought was a nice young lady to spend the night with. And then…well what had happened then? Everything was hazy after that. He vaguely recalled settling into bed…but that is certainly not where he woke up. As his head cleared, he remembered more. He’d woken up in being carried like sack of grain, with a foul taste in his mouth. Drugged. Unfortunately, his usual ways of dealing with problems required him to be clear of thought. Typically, he would have been able to handle individuals. Still, he did manage to twist out of their grip. Unfortunately with his limbs bound, there was nothing stopping him from landing on his head. That’s where the headache came from. He tried to open his eyes, and he nearly threw up. Nope. Not doing that.

He heard voices around him. Shouts - maybe someone barking orders. But he couldn’t understand any of it. Gods, how hard did I fall?!. Moving hurt. Hearing the commotion around him hurt.

WHAM!

But the kick hurt worst of all. Alderan lost whatever was in his stomach. The cool bars of his cage felt good against his brow. He convulsed a few times more, and opened his eyes to know who he owed a “later favor”. Drow. Hostage. S**t. It wouldn’t do him any good pretending to be too hurt to answer. They’d just kick him more. The agony of the first was enough. No, this would require much subtler techniques than subterfuge. Such as not lying, for now. He wants my name? Which! My real name? He wouldn’t believe me if I told him. That’s the tricky part about truth. Even when you told it, people often thought you were lying.

“Alderan.” He managed to gasp out. He belched and began to dry heave.

When he was finished, he rolled on his side. The cage didn’t allow for him to sit up, so it was the best he could do. “What do you want from me?”

**planswalker** · 2012-08-14, 12:00 PM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by TheWombatOfDoom

Replying as Jana Astrine

Jana was pacing when Green came into her conference room. Haggard was paying his appearance a compliment. She was sure she looked much the same. Just having Green enter the room visibly calmed her, and she no longer felt the need to pace. She sank into a chair, and glanced at her attendant.
“Please pour Mr. Drake a drink, and then leave us.” The servant nodded, gave Greenwing what he requested, and then left, shutting the door behind.
“Please tell me the fact that you are still here and not out tracking that thief is part of the plan, Green.” She realized that came across harsher than she meant it. She sighed. “Sorry. I’m just…agitated that this happened at all.”

She took a deep breath and folded her hands in front of her at the table. “I know you’ve had a long night. We both have. But it’s more complicated than just the heirloom. You remember that legend we heard a few decades ago about a bracelet that enslaved an efreeti? It actually exists. And worse – it seems Zane has it. If he figures out what he’s stolen…” She let the warning hang in the air.

"Jana, dear, I've told you before: I'm good, but I can't read minds. Last night, I closed the deal with Rocholl so they'll play ball your way for now. It took longer than it should have, six thugs had to die, and I just got back. I'm asleep less than an hour and you rouse me and start on about some plan of mine, an heirloom, "Zane", and an efreeti. You need to slow down. Breathe. No matter how bad things are, there is always time to stop and take stock of things. Remember the cult of Tharizdum? We would never have gotten anywhere if we hadn't done the research first. Start at the beginning. What happened?"

Greenwing loved Jana dearly, but she never has outgrown that excitable streak of hers from her youth. Normally this trait gave her the passion and energy it took to create a noble house from the ground up and grow it into a powerful dynasty. When she gets scared, though, she tends to skip over details.

It has been a long time since she's been so nervous that he hasn't been able to follow her train of thought. Whatever has her rattled, it can't be good.

**3SecondCultist** · 2012-08-14, 01:22 PM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by TheWombatOfDoom

Replying as Lanath

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Alderan was NOT having a good night. It started off well enough. Certain items had been acquired, information had traded into the right hands, he’d found what he’d thought was a nice young lady to spend the night with. And then…well what had happened then? Everything was hazy after that. He vaguely recalled settling into bed…but that is certainly not where he woke up. As his head cleared, he remembered more. He’d woken up in being carried like sack of grain, with a foul taste in his mouth. Drugged. Unfortunately, his usual ways of dealing with problems required him to be clear of thought. Typically, he would have been able to handle individuals. Still, he did manage to twist out of their grip. Unfortunately with his limbs bound, there was nothing stopping him from landing on his head. That’s where the headache came from. He tried to open his eyes, and he nearly threw up. Nope. Not doing that.

He heard voices around him. Shouts - maybe someone barking orders. But he couldn’t understand any of it. Gods, how hard did I fall?!. Moving hurt. Hearing the commotion around him hurt.

WHAM!

But the kick hurt worst of all. Alderan lost whatever was in his stomach. The cool bars of his cage felt good against his brow. He convulsed a few times more, and opened his eyes to know who he owed a “later favor”. Drow. Hostage. S**t. It wouldn’t do him any good pretending to be too hurt to answer. They’d just kick him more. The agony of the first was enough. No, this would require much subtler techniques than subterfuge. Such as not lying, for now. He wants my name? Which! My real name? He wouldn’t believe me if I told him. That’s the tricky part about truth. Even when you told it, people often thought you were lying.

“Alderan.” He managed to gasp out. He belched and began to dry heave.

When he was finished, he rolled on his side. The cage didn’t allow for him to sit up, so it was the best he could do. “What do you want from me?”

"Alderan. A good enough name, I guess." Lanath leans in towards the cage, not worried about violent retribution in the prisoner's current state. The drow makes sure to look the man right in the eyes. The ghost of a dark smile crosses Lanath's lips as he slips the knife from his sheath and holds out in front of 'Alderan'.
"What do I want? Well, answers to some of my questions would be wonderful. That will come later though. You're a professional, so I'm not going to make any obvious threats yet. But if you do try to escape, keep this in mind." Drawing up the fabric of his sleeve, the drow plunges the blade into his own wrist. He slices open a fair amount of skin, his deep blood spilling out and pooling on the dirt floor. Lanath's initial grimace turns into a full rictus of mixed ecstasy, his eyes never leaving those of the man's.
"I am willing to bleed to make a point. I would have no qualms about killing you. In fact, I think I would rather enjoy it." Lanath chuckles, licking his own blood off of the knife before putting it away. Another victim, another scar. Had the human been paying attention, he would have seen a multitude of similar wounds on the same wrist, albeit much older. They had all healed over time, as would this. It still stung, but the deep motes of pleasure that had come with the self-mutilation were fading. Lanath, now feeling the onset of actual pain, gets up and leaves the tent with Aumerle. Once outside and able to speak freely, he addresses his subordinate.
"We march due east. If we're lucky, we make it to the Aldaris Pass by this time two days from now. Make sure that he is guarded at all hours, and assign some more soldiers to watch the guards covertly. We don't want anyone getting any ideas, now do we?" In the minutes after dismissing Aumerle, Lanath finds himself holding on to his arm.
By Nasus, it really isn't going away. I had best find the surgeon to stitch this up, at least. I like living: bleeding out of an injury like this would not befit one such as me. Still grimacing, Lanath sets off to find one of the field surgeons. He would have to hurry. After all, the march would be beginning soon, and he could little afford to be anywhere other than in the front, leading his Legion.

**Crafty Cultist** · 2012-08-14, 02:57 PM (ISO 8601)

As the first rays of the sun began to make their way through the window of his study, Malenth was already wide awake. His desk was covered in various documents and letters, with one letter in particular occupying his attention this day.

Dear Mr D'Everet

We have recieved word that you wish to join our orginisation. We have seen proof of your ambition, and have decided to meet with you in person to determine if your level of competence is also satisfactory.

One of our members will be waiting for you at the Saphire Swan. Ask the bartender for a glass of goldendew ale and you will be lead to a back room. Once there your ability will be assessed to determine whether or not you are a suitable addition to our orginisation. Do not delay, as time is a valuable asset.

Regards

The letter was signed with an abstract symbol rather than a name. It probably served as some kind of alias to prevent documents from being traced back to the sender.

Malenth grinned as he clutched the letter. This was it. The first step in restoring the D'Everet house to it's former glory. It would be a long struggle, but he was ready for it.

After a quick breakfast and a shave, it was time to leave. Taking his cloak, cane, and hat from the stand near the door, Malenth checked himself in the mirror to make sure he looked presentable.

Garon poked his head through the doorway, his wrinkled face the epitome of polite friendliness. "Heading off now sir? Best of luck."

Malenth nodded at the old manservant. "Thank you Garon. I'll be sure to tell you how everything goes upon my return."

Gathering his things, Malenth steps out into the street and sets out to the upscale tavern mentioned in the letter.

**TechnOkami** · 2012-08-14, 03:58 PM (ISO 8601)

Jägerstein

The sun rose above the shining metropolis of Aldhaven, the morning birds chirped away, and the city's daytime hustle and bustle had begun once again. In a sizable plot of unused land, a massive stone inscribed in Druidic words and phrases. They all blazed a bright green, and various kinds of flora had now taken root around the rock. The great stone pulsed with verdant energy.

Right beside the stone was a small tent, with a massive brown bear sleeping next to the tent. Suddenly, the entirety of the tent blew away, and standing there full of poise, staff in one hand, and stein of ale in the other was a Dwarf.

Several long gulps of liquid intoxication later...

"Aah, nothin' like a wee bit o' beer in 'de mornin'."

He turned around, and inspected the nature-radiating stone.

"Oh good, i's done! Soon now... soon me brew'ry'll be funtionin'. Smokey!"

Them little dwarf looked upon the great burly brown bear.

"G'it up yeh great fuzzy mass. 'De time is now! Yeh can sleep when yer drunk, now come on."

Much against its own desires, the bear reluctantly stood on its fours, leisurely yawning, walking over to the little dwarf, his friend and fellow companion. He didn't even flinch when the Dwarf climbed on top of him. It was something he did often.

The Druid, sitting on top of his bear, raised his stein and staff so both were parallel to each other. Magics of the wild beckoned to his call, as emerald tendrils twisted and turned betwixt his focuses, stimulating the air with a crisp scent of unperturbed Nature, as it was before the rise of civilizations and industry. Green roots and vines erupted around the emerald stone, wrapping around its mass and pulling it down into the earth. A small tunnel was left behind where it was forcibly pulled down from, with a slight green light emanating from the hole. Soon though, the green light shone like a beam of the sun itself, causing the entire plot of land to crack open and shine Nature's light. Verdant roots and other cellulose twisted and intertwined themselves, growing a massive tree-shaped building on the perimeters of the plot he had purchased. What once was empty land was now a building crafted of living oak. Inside were tables, chairs, counters, a bar, and a fully functional Druidic brewery. It was a pub, bar, and brewery just waiting to be filled with happy customers. Above the establishment was what would be Jägerstein's home, nestled in the branches of the mighty tree. Behind the tree-building was a garden, blooming with fresh food and fruit, as well as a menagerie of herbs, nuts, spices, and other natural resources. Between the garden and the pub location itself is a fully functional kitchen. Outside are a series of fixed tables and chairs.

Standing on top of the establishment himself, while still on top of his bear, the little Dwarf Druid stood proudly. He raised his stein to the air, and called out to the city itself.

"The Bear Necessity's open fer business!"

**TheAntiplanar** · 2012-08-14, 06:03 PM (ISO 8601)

Reynald

Reynald rises coughing from his mattress, blood staining his white linen shirt. He sits upright, staring into the early morning darkness that was his cabin. It takes several minutes for the incident to subside fully.
Not again. I'll need to send a cabin boy out to get milk of the poppy when we get to Aldhaven. Maybe go to Kallion's? She always did have the best. He cradles his forehead in his hands, thinking about the past twenty four hours. The missive had come via divination, as always. All Reynald needed was a reflective surface to receive and send private messages to the rest of the Board. In the past, he had used his full length mirror, but given his condition Reynald sometimes found it more -
Focus! Try to remember the exact words they used. Something about a kidnapping. Alderan. Yes, that was it. The Painter's Guild mole, taken by that idiot of a drow. He had only just received the message several hours ago, the faint chimes waking him from his stupor. There was no such thing as a restful night's sleep anymore. Now his colleagues wanted him to chase down Lanath Orcbane, one of the more infamous warlords in recent history. Reynald flings the duvet off of his frail body in anger. His feet find the lacquered cherry wood floor, the boards creaking slightly under the increased pressure. He walks over to the mirror, examining the gaunt reflection that he saw. Were those really his eyes, so dark and sunken?
"By the gods, I need some sunlight." Throwing on a fine pair of pants and a new shirt, the banker opens the double doors. Striding out onto the deck, he takes in the sight of the river moving past him. The early morning mists were long gone now, replaced by a low sun. It wasn't too hot yet, just the right time to watch his ship's progress and think of weighty matters.
I just don't understand. Why was Alderan taken? Was it chance? Just how much does the drow know? More to the point, why is the Board entrusting me to track them down? Surely there are people more suited to the task. I should just tell the Twins to chase them. But of course, I can't do that either: they would be slaughtered in under a minute. Lanath has a whole damned company under his command. This is a matter for the Asarenholm army... oh wait, I forgot that the local government can barely contain its own populace on a good day. He felt like screaming, letting loose his frustration at the perfectly inconvenient way things had fallen. Reynald wouldn't want to scare the crew, though. Pelor knows they had been subjected to enough, after that hurricane last month. This was why Reynald had already come to an agreement with the Board: he was to dock his ship in Aldhaven, handpicking a crew of mercenaries to hunt down Lanath Orcbane. He simply sighs. If it were that easy, the Board would not have elected him to the task.

**Debatra** · 2012-08-14, 08:51 PM (ISO 8601)

(As it was never specified, I suppose Adeak will be based in a city a few miles away from Aldhaven.)

Adeak stepped away from his fence, a few new poisons stored in a hidden pouch. He was headed for a woman whom had proven to be a very reliable source of underground information in the past, and the Elf was always willing to take a new job.

A few minutes of walking got him to her usual corner of midnight. The Halfling woman grinned at his approach.

"Having a nice night Kiley?"

---

Erinde wandered Aldhaven, studying the wanted posters, deciding she wanted to make money in a relatively legal fashion this time around. Besides which, she found prey that expected someone to be after them made for more fun in the hunt. Seeing no faces she recognized (other than a few underworld friends she was more loyal to than that), she went on looking for the highest rewards.

---

Eli was awoken one morning by a young Postulant with a bizarre summons. If this was some kind of joke, the boy would likely be beaten within an inch of his life if not outright killed.

But if it were real, one did not delay when the most senior Gray Guard Captain in Delere'ele came more than halfway across the city to talk to you, specifically. Taking the offered Prestidigitation potion to quickly straighten himself out, he all but ran downstairs to the chill of the Gray Guard "offices".

'So it's true; he really is here...' He stepped forward and bowed deeply. "Captain Nathaniel? Eli Senti, reporting as ordered."

**TheWombatOfDoom** · 2012-08-14, 08:54 PM (ISO 8601)

Replying as the GM to Ander:

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Originally Posted by Ander of Brent

"Uncle, I only arrived last night, I haven't even said hello to everybody yet! Can't this wait?"
An older, rather heavy set man scowled at his nephew, his red face showing displeasure, and his blue eyes showing regret and sorrow. "No this cannot wait, not even the hour it would take to great your family, and young man, before you argue with me, as long as you are staying here in this house, against my better judgement I might add, you will listen to me! There is trouble brewing in this city, and if you are going to be here, I want you squared away with the society before it starts.
The rest of the walk down the long hall was taken in silence, the great black swaths of silk that hung draped from the ceiling and walls, embroidered with grotesque floral images in silver thread absorbed even the sound of their foot falls. They were both dressed lavishly in the same shade of black silk with the same silver thread at borders and seams, each man, young and old, slender, and fat, short and tall, elf and human, was absorbed in his own thoughts. As they passed the great doors at the far end of the hall, a black lacquered carriage led by white horses met them.

As the uncle dragged the young man through the halls of the Society, it was clear they were headed in a steady direction: Down. Decorations became less frequent, halls narrowed, the air grew cooler. Other members of the guild were passed, and many looked unsettled and suspicious of the pair as they progressed. Occasionally, messengers sprinted by gripping sealed letters. Other times the pair would have to move out of the way as some object or another was wheeled down a hallway. Eventually, they reached a simple looking door, and the man knocked lightly and then entered. Inside, the room was dark, and three men seated at a table. One chair was placed opposite them. "Jered," the man on the right said angrily. "Why is the boy not blindfolded? He's seen--" He was interrupted by the middle man.

"Go, Jared. Wait outside."

Jared of Brent nodded warily, turned to Ander and drew him close. "You answer their questions now, and you answer them well. They will be testing you from the beginning. To get into the guild, you'll need to prove your worth. If you don't, they'll kill you in all likelihood. Remember, they value secrecy. If you tell them you're life's story, you're not gonna pass. Now go sit in the chair." Jared walked out the door and closed it behind him.

The three waited for Ander to sit in the chair, and then the questioning began.

The middle man spoke again. "Answer these three questions, boy. What is your name? Why are you here? And what can you do?"

Replying as Jana to Greenwing:

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Originally Posted by Greenwing Drake

"Jana, dear, I've told you before: I'm good, but I can't read minds. Last night, I closed the deal with Rocholl so they'll play ball your way for now. It took longer than it should have, six thugs had to die, and I just got back. I'm asleep less than an hour and you rouse me and start on about some plan of mine, an heirloom, "Zane", and an efreeti. You need to slow down. Breathe. No matter how bad things are, there is always time to stop and take stock of things. Remember the cult of Tharizdum? We would never have gotten anywhere if we hadn't done the research first. Start at the beginning. What happened?"

Greenwing loved Jana dearly, but she never has outgrown that excitable streak of hers from her youth. Normally this trait gave her the passion and energy it took to create a noble house from the ground up and grow it into a powerful dynasty. When she gets scared, though, she tends to skip over details.

It has been a long time since she's been so nervous that he hasn't been able to follow her train of thought. Whatever has her rattled, it can't be good.

Jana supposed it was time she restarted. Everything seemed to be coming out in precisely the wrong order, and every minute she wasted explaining was another moment the thief was getting away. She forced herself to a calm, and then looked Green in the eye.

“You remember the chalice that we recently recovered from that crypt? It’s been stolen. The palace was broken into last night, and a thief by the name of Edward Zane stole it along with a few other rare magical items. One of these is that bracelet we heard mentioned awhile back – the one that granted wishes? Well, turns out it’s real. One of the Noble District Guards came a short time ago to inform me of all this.” She place her hand on Green’s. “Please tell me you’ve heard of him?” Jana searched Green’s eyes, to see if he was following what she was saying. Hopefully his mind wasn’t as cloudy as his eyes.

**Exalaber** · 2012-08-14, 09:23 PM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by Replying to the GM as Ander

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As the uncle dragged the young man through the halls of the Society, it was clear they were headed in a steady direction: Down. Decorations became less frequent, halls narrowed, the air grew cooler. Other members of the guild were passed, and many looked unsettled and suspicious of the pair as they progressed. Occasionally, messengers sprinted by gripping sealed letters. Other times the pair would have to move out of the way as some object or another was wheeled down a hallway. Eventually, they reached a simple looking door, and the man knocked lightly and then entered. Inside, the room was dark, and three men seated at a table. One chair was placed opposite them. "Jered," the man on the right said angrily. "Why is the boy not blindfolded? He's seen--" He was interrupted by the middle man.

"Go, Jared. Wait outside."

Jared of Brent nodded warily, turned to Ander and drew him close. "You answer their questions now, and you answer them well. They will be testing you from the beginning. To get into the guild, you'll need to prove your worth. If you don't, they'll kill you in all likelihood. Remember, they value secrecy. If you tell them you're life's story, you're not gonna pass. Now go sit in the chair." Jared walked out the door and closed it behind him.

The three waited for Ander to sit in the chair, and then the questioning began.

The middle man spoke again. "Answer these three questions, boy. What is your name? Why are you here? And what can you do?"

The young sat in his simple chair, his hair swept back into a short pony tail and secured with a band of iron, he fiddled with the onyx ring on his finger as he began to frame and answer. When he failed, he gazed around the room, it had a rough board table worn with use and many tall, simple chairs, the plain masonry walls were unadorned. Then he began to hear the voices, first screams, then the clink of coins and the shiver of enormous decisions being made in complete calm, and without a second thought. Final he heard the whispers "Freind" "Help" "Answer!" "FAST!"
Ander sat straight up in his chair and the nervousness dropped from him like a sheet. "I am Ander Ean James Alexi, I am here because I was instructed to be so some beyond the hearing of men, and I can fit into the ranks of the privileged without causing a stir, hold my own in a fight, speak persuasively when I need to, and finally keep a secret." As he finished speaking the air dropped from him and he quickly stiefled an expression of shock, he had never been that subsumed into a spirit since that day, powerful people had died here.

**TheWombatOfDoom** · 2012-08-14, 09:30 PM (ISO 8601)

Replying as Alderan to Lanath:

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Originally Posted by Lanath

"Alderan. A good enough name, I guess." Lanath leans in towards the cage, not worried about violent retribution in the prisoner's current state. The drow makes sure to look the man right in the eyes. The ghost of a dark smile crosses Lanath's lips as he slips the knife from his sheath and holds out in front of 'Alderan'.
"What do I want? Well, answers to some of my questions would be wonderful. That will come later though. You're a professional, so I'm not going to make any obvious threats yet. But if you do try to escape, keep this in mind." Drawing up the fabric of his sleeve, the drow plunges the blade into his own wrist. He slices open a fair amount of skin, his deep blood spilling out and pooling on the dirt floor. Lanath's initial grimace turns into a full rictus of mixed ecstasy, his eyes never leaving those of the man's.
"I am willing to bleed to make a point. I would have no qualms about killing you. In fact, I think I would rather enjoy it." Lanath chuckles, licking his own blood off of the knife before putting it away. Another victim, another scar. Had the human been paying attention, he would have seen a multitude of similar wounds on the same wrist, albeit much older. They had all healed over time, as would this. It still stung, but the deep motes of pleasure that had come with the self-mutilation were fading. Lanath, now feeling the onset of actual pain, gets up and leaves the tent with Aumerle. Once outside and able to speak freely, he addresses his subordinate.
"We march due east. If we're lucky, we make it to the Aldaris Pass by this time two days from now. Make sure that he is guarded at all hours, and assign some more soldiers to watch the guards covertly. We don't want anyone getting any ideas, now do we?" In the minutes after dismissing Aumerle, Lanath finds himself holding on to his arm.
By Nasus, it really isn't going away. I had best find the surgeon to stitch this up, at least. I like living: bleeding out of an injury like this would not befit one such as me. Still grimacing, Lanath sets off to find one of the field surgeons. He would have to hurry. After all, the march would be beginning soon, and he could little afford to be anywhere other than in the front, leading his Legion.

Well, it wasn't real, but it worked. It's what everyone else in the Society knew him as. He had many names. As the drow leaned in close, Aldaran immediately noticed he wasn't squinting. A drow always squints. Even in this low light the sun was too much for their eyes after living underground so long. This meant...no...it couldn't be. His thoughts were interrupted when the drow brought out a dagger. He watched with open horror as he sawed open his exposed arm. Inside, he wasn't afraid - he was concerned. He had a feeling there was going to be a lot of pain involved when it came to this hostage situation. Generally, when he was involved in a hostage, he was on the other side of the fence. Had he been a man of more concrete morals, this experience might one day change his view on such actions. Not Aldaran. Still, the drow's message was plain enough - he wasn't afraid to kill him. That didn't make much sense. If Aldaran did have the information the drow sought, then why would he kill him. I'm going to have to play this without error this time, he thought warily. Still there was something that bugged him...

There was only one kind of drow he knew of that had taken to life on the surface, one that would have adjusted eyes. He only knew of them because they had ties to the Society. That would mean Mr. Zeal for Bleeding was Lanath. But why? Why him?

Lanath - if that's who he really was, he'd never seen the dark elf personally - left the tent. As the light steamed in, a new wave of nausea came up. Instead of throwing up, Aldaran blacked out.

**planswalker** · 2012-08-14, 10:15 PM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by TheWombatOfDoom

Replying as Jana to Greenwing:

Jana supposed it was time she restarted. Everything seemed to be coming out in precisely the wrong order, and every minute she wasted explaining was another moment the thief was getting away. She forced herself to a calm, and then looked Green in the eye.

“You remember the chalice that we recently recovered from that crypt? It’s been stolen. The palace was broken into last night, and a thief by the name of Edward Zane stole it along with a few other rare magical items. One of these is that bracelet we heard mentioned awhile back – the one that granted wishes? Well, turns out it’s real. One of the Noble District Guards came a short time ago to inform me of all this.” She place her hand on Green’s. “Please tell me you’ve heard of him?” Jana searched Green’s eyes, to see if he was following what she was saying. Hopefully his mind wasn’t as cloudy as his eyes.

"Zane... Zane... I think I've heard of him. Small-time thief. Too small time to bother inviting in on an operation with me, so I've never met him. The man himself shouldn't be a problem unless he gets ahold of the ring first. Then I'll have to call in favors to get the mystical muscle it will take to win that one. Unless he's a much better fence than he is a thief, it shouldn't be too hard to track down the fellow. You don't sell priceless heirlooms of the kingdom's most powerful families without leaving a trail. If that is all, I need to start investigating before the trail is cold."

With that, Greenwing will leave after making the proper goodbyes. Using one of his favorite draconic charms to turn invisible, he removes his coat. If anyone could have seen him, they would have seen bright green webbed spines be released from the confines of the coat. They sprung into place to transform his arms into wings. The flexible spines stiffened into place and he took off, a silent flyer in the early morning.

He soared over to the Mage's Quarter. In his opinion, it lacked the majesty of its glory days thirty years ago when powerful mages still lived there. It's also been almost crime-free since the current captain took over. Useful for some of his business interests, but it also makes it all but impossible for his more... productive deals to take place there. Still, there's always South Market for those deals.

Either way, it was the captain he wanted to see. The man was a trained investigator, and besides, it never hurts to aid the law in busting a rival. Whatever the captain may suspect about him, nothing was provable. The threat that bracelet represents was very real, however.

Landing just outside the window to the captain's office, LG will put his coat back on, drop the charm, and tap on the window.

"Hello? Captain of the Watch in this district? I'd like to report a crime."

**Crafty Cultist** · 2012-08-14, 10:48 PM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by Continuing from this post

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As the first rays of the sun began to make their way through the window of his study, Malenth was already wide awake. His desk was covered in various documents and letters, with one letter in particular occupying his attention this day.

Dear Mr D'Everet

We have recieved word that you wish to join our orginisation. We have seen proof of your ambition, and have decided to meet with you in person to determine if your level of competence is also satisfactory.

One of our members will be waiting for you at the Saphire Swan. Ask the bartender for a glass of goldendew ale and you will be lead to a back room. Once there your ability will be assessed to determine whether or not you are a suitable addition to our orginisation. Do not delay, as time is a valuable asset.

Regards

The letter was signed with an abstract symbol rather than a name. It probably served as some kind of alias to prevent documents from being traced back to the sender.

Malenth grinned as he clutched the letter. This was it. The first step in restoring the D'Everet house to it's former glory. It would be a long struggle, but he was ready for it.

After a quick breakfast and a shave, it was time to leave. Taking his cloak, cane, and hat from the stand near the door, Malenth checked himself in the mirror to make sure he looked presentable.

Garon poked his head through the doorway, his wrinkled face the epitome of polite friendliness. "Heading off now sir? Best of luck."

Malenth nodded at the old manservant. "Thank you Garon. I'll be sure to tell you how everything goes upon my return."

Gathering his things, Malenth steps out into the street and sets out to the upscale tavern mentioned in the letter.

Malenth soon arrives at the Saphire Swan, an upscale tavern on the waterfront near the entrance to the Noble district. The place was classy, without being pompous. The tables were made of polished mahogony, with leather apholstery on the chairs and benches, and fixtures of polished brass were plentiful. At this time of day, the place was nearly empty.

Malenth headed to the counter without any fuss, and a well dressed bartender greeted him from behind a row of taps. "Greetings Milord. You're in early today. What can I get you?"

"A glass of Goldendew Ale, my good man. I've had a rough night, and some hair of the dog that bit me is just what the doctor ordered."

The bartender looks at Malenth for a moment, who looks around the bar with casual interest. "I'm afraid that the last keg was purchased by a customer in one of my private rooms. If you think you can convince him to share it, I'll take you to meet him."

Malenth smiles and rises from his seat. "Lead on, my good man"

**Forever Curious** · 2012-08-14, 11:10 PM (ISO 8601)

Elif Aygul, at her room in the Slums

Elif awoke in her room with a start, the nightmare fading into her subconscious. It was no different then the one from before: she was frozen in place forced to watch her people be slaughtered by maniac assailants until they came for her. She wiped the sweat from her brow, forcing her breathing to settle to an even pace. "Just another night..." she murmured. Having calmed, the catfolk stands from her bed, stretching a bit as she goes to ready herself for the day. The sound of the Slums waking up reaches her ears, making her sigh quietly as she donned her usual street clothes including her sword, which she wore openly at her hip. Elif had found out shortly after arriving in the city that even during the day it never hurt to remain on guard.

Having dressed, Elif exited her room at the Tipsy Falcon, a tavern down the street from the underground fighting ring, almost stepping on a peculiar note that had fallen to the floor. Curious, she picked it up to examine: it was white paper, thick, and spattered with multicolor ink, almost as if several inkwells had fallen over while the letter was being written. "This is new," she muttered to herself, smiling slightly as she broke the black wax seal to read it's contents:

Elif

Secure a table downstairs at noon. I have business to discuss

"Hm... blunt. I can appreciate saving pleasantries." She folded the note, placing it in a small bag she wore on her back. It would be some time before her appointment; breakfast was in order.

**hustlertwo** · 2012-08-14, 11:55 PM (ISO 8601)

Caw approached The Boss, a bit nervous. Seemed to happen more and more lately. But the tribe was getting restless again, wanting to move on, and as the advisor he had to try to convince their increasingly erratic leader to listen to them. The area had become peaceful, almost serene, and there was no money in that for the largest clan of mercenaries Arteria had ever seen.

It remained largely hob, even though a few stragglers from the old Watch had come along for the ride and produced some extraordinarily ugly mixed-race children. All of them, every man, woman, and child, trained either in combat or a supporting role for the warriors. Boss's orders. And despite the murmurs, it had been decades since the last fellow had fallen who tried to question the Boss when he made a decree. Now obeying was as inbred for the clan as the Jenkins family line, thanks to their predilection for cousin-lovin'. Those who did not obey, or who died either in battle or out of it, still served the clan. Not in spirit, but certainly in ghastly, renanimated body.

Caw crept toward the throne, his gaze captured by the bright scarlet tunic their leader still wore to honor a time long past. The blue emblem of hands shaking, the unique crown insignia stitched above the chest. All of it seemed appropriately regal, save for the absurdly large arsenal of weaponry The Boss carried on him at all times. He always said that can't hurt to be prepared, unless you're the person facing someone who is prepared, in which case it sure as heckfire can. Caw gingerly tapped the leader on his shoulder with one long, withered finger. But The Boss just stared forward, deep in concentration. Shuffling of feet and polite coughing received the same lack of a response. Finally the advisor, forgetting himself, stomped in front of their fearless leader and began to shout.

Come on, Bennett. You know I hate the silent treatment.

The skeleton remained still atop his throne. The wiry, wild-eyed hobgoblin elder in front of him went on bended knee.

Fine, I'll keep it more professional. You're such a fuddy-duddy. I bring you news, O Exalted One. The clan is becoming restless; I feel that it may be time to find a new stomping ground, full of rich people who hate each other enough to make us rich ironing out their grudges. Any thoughts on the matter?

The skeleton does nothing. The hob begins to shout.

I SAID, ANY THOUGHTS ON THE MATTER? Honestly, I thought you had to have ears to start going deaf.

The skeleton does nothing. The hob rises from his kneeling position, wincing as he does so.

Well, I'm sure I don't know if Sheila from accounting has a crush on you. But given that you can order her to prostrate herself before you any time you wish, I think I like your chances with her. Can we get back to matters at hand?

A spider descends from The Boss's empty eye socket; his advisor removes it and sets it on the ground gently, then promptly smashes it to bits with two projectiles from a well-worn wand.

That's good to hear. The fellows are itching for some proper bloodshed. What's the place you have in mind?

The skeleton remains silent. Caw gasps.

You can't be serious, Bennie. Well, no, of course you are. You're never anything but serious. But why would we go there now, though? I thought we put that behind us.

More nothing.

Hold up now. Look, I know I'm crazy. I think it's safe to say I've come to terms with it. But if you're going crazy too, we have some serious problems. Why would we try to pull the same gag after how brilliantly we botched it last time?

The skeleton stares into space. The old hob sniffles, and wipes a tear from his eye.

No...you're right. We do owe it to him to try again. The first man to ever recognize your rights, and we let him down. But now, with all our training, our well-crafted web of contacts, our long breaks for rampant breeding...and I still don't know why you always assigned me the homeliest females for that, you backstabber; maybe now we're ready to help the Khan realize his mad, impossible, beautiful dream. Maybe now we can make him king. Would you like that, Khannonball Run?

He looks to his left at the horrifying mohrg towering over him, spikes emerging from his mottled orange skin. Caw smiles.

We knew you would. Then by your leave, Big Boss Man, I will inform the clan to prepare the wagons. Tomorrow we ride for Aldhaven!

Chief Advisor Wilstaff, better known to most merely by the shortened name of Caw, gleefully skipped toward the main encampment despite his aging bones. Home again at last!

**Monodominant** · 2012-08-15, 06:08 AM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by TheWombatOfDoom

Replying as Graeden Leventhair to Deneth

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It was already starting to get busy by the time Graeden had stowed his possessions and checked out with the Watch. There was mention about some trouble in the city between a few colleagues, but that was always the case in this size of a city. The only nice thing about the Night Watch was that it wasn’t as busy as some other posts. In his tenure in this profession, he’d had his fair share of busy posts. Street patrol was one of the most dangerous, especially if you got the wrong district. Noble quarters were just high security, and with high security, came lots of pressure. Needless to say that one had a high turnover rate, even with the amount of hoops you had to jump through in order to land that job. Then there were the reports afterwards to file for each incident. Luckily, he didn’t have to be the sorry sap that had to READ all of those reports. Paperwork was more evil than most of the criminals he’d put away.

Graeden’s nostrils were flaring at the delicious smells coming from the nearest shop. Noting the sounds his stomach was making, he decided to make a stop before he went to sleep. He was always hungry after an overnight, and warm bread sounded good after the cool night. He quickened his step, rounded the corner, and nearly crashed into a Guard who was rounding the corner as well. And not only a guard, but a captain! He swore, and then swore for swearing. By that time he realize he wasn’t getting anywhere and clamped his mouth shut. To try and save the situation, he saluted briskly, and hoped for the best.

Replying as Deneth to Graeden Leventhair

Oh darn it... thought Deneth as he realised the young man had recognised him.

The kid had a sharp eye and had seen past the rough sergeant cloak and straight to his stripes. He was getting old and sloppy...

"Put your hand down! I am... er... incognito!" he snapped off with more urgency than irritation as he covered his shoulders with the thick wool cloth to hide what the man had seen already but to protect him from having anyone else see it.

"So yea, lets just walk over that shop, I guess we were both heading there and you will let me buy you one of those nice hot meat pies... The man that owns it has owned it for more than 40 years you know... hardly any poisonings at all!" said the Captain looking at the young mans eyes and considering how he should approach this. The newer generation did not really know of his habbits in pretending to still be a beat cop and should the Commander learn he was still at it, the bastard would tell his wife...

"You can speak by the way... just no sir, no captain and all that. Just Mr. Vims will do for now..." he added cautiously.

-=-

Replying to Greenwing

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Originally Posted by planswalker

"Zane... Zane... I think I've heard of him. Small-time thief. Too small time to bother inviting in on an operation with me, so I've never met him. The man himself shouldn't be a problem unless he gets ahold of the ring first. Then I'll have to call in favors to get the mystical muscle it will take to win that one. Unless he's a much better fence than he is a thief, it shouldn't be too hard to track down the fellow. You don't sell priceless heirlooms of the kingdom's most powerful families without leaving a trail. If that is all, I need to start investigating before the trail is cold."

With that, Greenwing will leave after making the proper goodbyes. Using one of his favorite draconic charms to turn invisible, he removes his coat. If anyone could have seen him, they would have seen bright green webbed spines be released from the confines of the coat. They sprung into place to transform his arms into wings. The flexible spines stiffened into place and he took off, a silent flyer in the early morning.

He soared over to the Mage's Quarter. In his opinion, it lacked the majesty of its glory days thirty years ago when powerful mages still lived there. It's also been almost crime-free since the current captain took over. Useful for some of his business interests, but it also makes it all but impossible for his more... productive deals to take place there. Still, there's always South Market for those deals.

Either way, it was the captain he wanted to see. The man was a trained investigator, and besides, it never hurts to aid the law in busting a rival. Whatever the captain may suspect about him, nothing was provable. The threat that bracelet represents was very real, however.

Landing just outside the window to the captain's office, LG will put his coat back on, drop the charm, and tap on the window.

"Hello? Captain of the Watch in this district? I'd like to report a crime."

It actually takes a good few minutes until the window is opened by a sleepy eyes corporal that Greenwing has seen before taking notes and generally tailing the Captain.

He looks at the green, scaly halfling at the window but knows better than to be scared. Suprised, stunned and amazed yes... not scared though.

"Errr.... ahem... first of all Sir, I would like to point out that there IS a door to this place! Its... highly irregular to... well... to come from the roof! Plus the Captain is of a certain age as you very well know... such stunts could... well.. could compromise his health! But in any case... well... the... the Captain is not here right now. I see his coat is here so if I was a betting man I would say he is prowling somewhere around here pretending to be a regular. He thinks I dont hear him sneak out every other morning but I do... but dont tell him that or he will give me a right thrashing which will... well... it will mean I cant keep an eye on him like his wife asked me to..."

**planswalker** · 2012-08-15, 08:35 AM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by Monodominant

It actually takes a good few minutes until the window is opened by a sleepy eyes corporal that Greenwing has seen before taking notes and generally tailing the Captain.

He looks at the green, scaly halfling at the window but knows better than to be scared. Suprised, stunned and amazed yes... not scared though.

"Errr.... ahem... first of all Sir, I would like to point out that there IS a door to this place! Its... highly irregular to... well... to come from the roof! Plus the Captain is of a certain age as you very well know... such stunts could... well.. could compromise his health! But in any case... well... the... the Captain is not here right now. I see his coat is here so if I was a betting man I would say he is prowling somewhere around here pretending to be a regular. He thinks I dont hear him sneak out every other morning but I do... but dont tell him that or he will give me a right thrashing which will... well... it will mean I cant keep an eye on him like his wife asked me to..."

"I come on behalf of the Council of Ten to work under letter of marque to retrieve important items stolen from the Houses. When presented with this task, my first thought was to involve the city watch in this, and Captain was the one I trusted to aid me. I am surprised you did not immediately recognize me as chief adviser to House Astrine. I would have thought my appearance distinctive enough to warrant instant recognition. Mind if I come in or would you rather continue talking out the window?"

**3SecondCultist** · 2012-08-15, 09:18 AM (ISO 8601)

Lanath

The march had begun. Left, right, left, right. When they had arrived on the surface nearly a decade ago, Lanath had forbade the use of horses except as beasts of burden. They were surface animals, he reasoned, and did not deserve the honor of carrying his kin across the lands above. Moreover, the forced marches had strengthened his men, given them stamina. He had dozens of victories to show for it - and only one defeat. Lanath swears to himself under his breath, trying not to think about that day. And yet, it was impossible to put it out of his head entirely. The drow grits his teeth, keeping his attention eastward. Out there, beyond the foothills, were the Tikaritian Mountains. Lanath could barely make them out, a blue-grey veil that spanned his field of view. He glances around at his position. Behind him stretches the Legion, a column five abreast, his troops swathed in simple grey cloaks and light armor. The majority of the tents and supplies were being carted on four separate wagons, as was the cage that held the prisoner. Lanath can see the scowls on the faces of the carters - every morning, his troops would draw straws or play dice for the honor of marching along with their warlord. The losers had to steer the wagons and take care of the horses, like lowly stable-boys. He grins to himself. They seemed to be making good progress this morning: their campsite from the night before was long gone, and Lanath could no longer even see Aldhaven. Beside him, Aumerle notices his deceleration.
"Are we stopping, sir?"
"No. I was just... looking around. We still have some distance to travel today." He holds out his arm, examining the stitches in the waning sunlight. They had healed well. The pain was still present, but it was already beginning to fade away. Soon, only a scar would remain.
"It looks good. Dran did a solid job on this, sir."
"I am aware, thank you. We should get moving: it looks like rain." Striding ahead, Lanath motions for Aumerle to follow. They would march into the mountains - there, among the rocks and the ice, Lanath would set up camp and wait. The Society was bound to send someone eventually, and his Legion was fairly easy to track on the ground.
Especially considering the little breadcrumbs I've been leaving near our trail. Every hour, he would toss something innocuous on the ground - a strap of leather, a piece of rotten meat, something that would not be missed. Any tracker worth their weight in copper should be able to follow the road Lanath was paving.
At least, until they get into the mountains. Then we'll be waiting.

**The Bandicoot** · 2012-08-15, 10:48 AM (ISO 8601)

Iothfrahar

Iothfrahar walked silently through the city, his hood up and hoping to find a place he could stay for the day. His jackal, Gix, who was walking at his side yawned. Iothfrahar really disliked going through big cities but this one was too large to walk around and besides, he needed to find another dragon to hunt and the rumor mill of a big city was usually the place to find one.

So it was on this quiet morning stroll that he found himself in front of a plot empty save for a dwarf and a bear. Then there was a loud rumbling, a large pulse of Druidic magic(something that caught his attention more than the rumbling) and he was standing in front of a large tree with chairs and tables. "The Bear Necessities is open for business!" the dwarf shouts. The Bear Necessities has it's first customer! Iothfrahar shouts in Druidic, pulling back his cloak. His platinum-scaled, vaguely half-orcish features reflect the morning light and he mutters in orcish Flea-bitten elf lover.

**TheWombatOfDoom** · 2012-08-15, 11:33 AM (ISO 8601)

Replying as Amazed Crowd/Random NPC’s (GM) to Jagerstein:

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Originally Posted by Jagerstein

The sun rose above the shining metropolis of Aldhaven, the morning birds chirped away, and the city's daytime hustle and bustle had begun once again. In a sizable plot of unused land, a massive stone inscribed in Druidic words and phrases. They all blazed a bright green, and various kinds of flora had now taken root around the rock. The great stone pulsed with verdant energy.

Right beside the stone was a small tent, with a massive brown bear sleeping next to the tent. Suddenly, the entirety of the tent blew away, and standing there full of poise, staff in one hand, and stein of ale in the other was a Dwarf.

Several long gulps of liquid intoxication later...

"Aah, nothin' like a wee bit o' beer in 'de mornin'."

He turned around, and inspected the nature-radiating stone.

"Oh good, i's done! Soon now... soon me brew'ry'll be funtionin'. Smokey!"

Them little dwarf looked upon the great burly brown bear.

"G'it up yeh great fuzzy mass. 'De time is now! Yeh can sleep when yer drunk, now come on."

Much against its own desires, the bear reluctantly stood on its fours, leisurely yawning, walking over to the little dwarf, his friend and fellow companion. He didn't even flinch when the Dwarf climbed on top of him. It was something he did often.

The Druid, sitting on top of his bear, raised his stein and staff so both were parallel to each other. Magics of the wild beckoned to his call, as emerald tendrils twisted and turned betwixt his focuses, stimulating the air with a crisp scent of unperturbed Nature, as it was before the rise of civilizations and industry. Green roots and vines erupted around the emerald stone, wrapping around its mass and pulling it down into the earth. A small tunnel was left behind where it was forcibly pulled down from, with a slight green light emanating from the hole. Soon though, the green light shone like a beam of the sun itself, causing the entire plot of land to crack open and shine Nature's light. Verdant roots and other cellulose twisted and intertwined themselves, growing a massive tree-shaped building on the perimeters of the plot he had purchased. What once was empty land was now a building crafted of living oak. Inside were tables, chairs, counters, a bar, and a fully functional Druidic brewery. It was a pub, bar, and brewery just waiting to be filled with happy customers. Above the establishment was what would be Jägerstein's home, nestled in the branches of the mighty tree. Behind the tree-building was a garden, blooming with fresh food and fruit, as well as a menagerie of herbs, nuts, spices, and other natural resources. Between the garden and the pub location itself is a fully functional kitchen. Outside are a series of fixed tables and chairs.

Standing on top of the establishment himself, while still on top of his bear, the little Dwarf Druid stood proudly. He raised his stein to the air, and called out to the city itself.

"The Bear Necessity's open fer business!"

The Midtown District contained much more in the way of shopping than living quarters, and so morning was always an arduous time. Shop owners and customers alike traveled from better parts in the city to come to this shopping district each morning, and so the wider streets became a jumble of people attempting to go this way and that. Since midtown got its name from being in the center of everything, it should be no surprise that traders, supply wagons and shipments made even the larger streets narrow at times as they transported things to other areas of the city. Recently makeshift stands had begun to appear on main streets and open area, adding to crowding as well. So unsurprisingly when people saw a vacant lot, they saw a way around the crowds…at least for the time being. People eyed the tent as odd, and the large bear as stranger. They gave each a wide berth. They obviously didn’t know odd just yet.

Fortunately the occupant of the tent soon cleared up that misfortune up for the onlookers as he formed a tavern out of seemingly thin air. People stopped moving all together to watch, thus causing shouting and cursing behind them until they spied what those obstructing were staring at. Those that were closer to the lot drew away, some more hurriedly than others depending on proximity.

When it was all over, there was a wide range of reaction. Some people didn’t know how to process a dwarf riding a bear riding a tree tavern thing. They either were scared, angry, or indifferent. Most of them tried to get moving. Some were amazed, intrigued or downright excited, and were moving closer to the structure and touching its sides or peering in through a window. One man went in and the rest peered in to see what would happen.

Jack looked around, smiled, and rapped his staff on the ceiling of the place.
“Very impressive, but now that you’re open you should probably be down here serving me! And you better not be one of them veggie only places! I needs me some meat! And I still have the bad part of a good night hanging on my mind. Wouldn’t mind something to wash all that down my throat, if you catch my drift.” He paused a moment, and then rapped smartly once more on the ceiling, just for fun. Jack settled down on one of the seats closest to counter, and drummed his fingers on the wood. “You know, you get a better look if you actually come in, folks,” he called out to those still staring in from the windows.

Replying as Kiley to Adeak:

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[QUOTE=Adeak]
Adeak stepped away from his fence, a few new poisons stored in a hidden pouch. He was headed for a woman whom had proven to be a very reliable source of underground information in the past, and the Elf was always willing to take a new job.

A few minutes of walking got him to her usual corner of midnight. The Halfling woman grinned at his approach.

"Having a nice night Kiley?"

Kiley, as always, was pleased to see Adeak. Adeak always came for information, and always paid for the advice and information he asked for, and it was hard times for her. Hopefully she knew the information he was looking for or the person that would know. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday.

Kiley greeted Adeak with the same line she’d always used. “Hey there, Handsome.” She smiled. “Night’s getting nicer now that you’re here.” She eyed him up and down. “So, where you want to go? We could be dangerous and do it outside, or we could go somewhere and get to business? Either way, you lead.”

Replying as the GM to Erinde:

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Originally Posted by Erinde

Erinde wandered Aldhaven, studying the wanted posters, deciding she wanted to make money in a relatively legal fashion this time around. Besides which, she found prey that expected someone to be after them made for more fun in the hunt. Seeing no faces she recognized (other than a few underworld friends she was more loyal to than that), she went on looking for the highest rewards.

There were many posters along the wall, all with varying descriptions:

Semaul, Kobold, wanted for posing as a representative to the Licourta House. Wanted alive. Reward provided Licourta family. (No actual amount was given, but heads of houses are known to pay well.)
Jeriah Cariess, Human, Wanted Dead or Alive, Smuggling illegal immigrants into the city. Reward: 15,000 Gold (City Guard)
Riley Sunkist, Werebear, Wanted Dead, Destruction of Property, Murder, and Resisting Arrest. Reward: 20,055 Gold (City Guard)
Seeking Client to recover Items from a Theft, Reward per item: 6,000 Gold. Bonus if all recovered. (Gives an address to a building somewhere in the Noble District.)

Replying as "The Three" to Ander:

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Originally Posted by Ander

The young sat in his simple chair, his hair swept back into a short pony tail and secured with a band of iron, he fiddled with the onyx ring on his finger as he began to frame and answer. When he failed, he gazed around the room, it had a rough board table worn with use and many tall, simple chairs, the plain masonry walls were unadorned. Then he began to hear the voices, first screams, then the clink of coins and the shiver of enormous decisions being made in complete calm, and without a second thought. Final he heard the whispers "Freind" "Help" "Answer!" "FAST!"
Ander sat straight up in his chair and the nervousness dropped from him like a sheet. "I am Ander Ean James Alexi, I am here because I was instructed to be so some beyond the hearing of men, and I can fit into the ranks of the privileged without causing a stir, hold my own in a fight, speak persuasively when I need to, and finally keep a secret." As he finished speaking the air dropped from him and he quickly stiefled an expression of shock, he had never been that subsumed into a spirit since that day, powerful people had died here.

The three listen quietly to the young man as he listed off his answers, faces hidden within the shadows of their hoods. The left figure watched as Ander fiddled and fidgeted. He almost looked like he was mouthing to himself. Then suddenly, he changed. He stopped playing with his ring, he brought on a new composure, and then spoke clearly and calmly. This showed promise, Left thought.

“What do you mean ‘beyond the hearing of men’, Ander?” spoke the center figure.

It might be nice to have another someone in the midst of the nobles, but his uncle already did that, plus countless others that were servants, administrators, even one house leader belonged to the society. Still…the boy was lucky that Dalante wasn’t here – he would want him to have lied from the start about who he was. Almeran. It was amazing how many parts of things that man actually touched. He needed to be recovered. And soon. But on the subject at hand, even if they did accept Ander to the Society, he obviously needed training. They already knew plenty on him and his capabilities. He’d not be here had there been a doubt about these things. The trouble is, at the moment, he didn’t have anyone who could train him. Hmmmmm.

Replying as GM to Elif:

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Originally Posted by Elif

Elif awoke in her room with a start, the nightmare fading into her subconscious. It was no different then the one from before: she was frozen in place forced to watch her people be slaughtered by maniac assailants until they came for her. She wiped the sweat from her brow, forcing her breathing to settle to an even pace. "Just another night..." she murmured. Having calmed, the catfolk stands from her bed, stretching a bit as she goes to ready herself for the day. The sound of the Slums waking up reaches her ears, making her sigh quietly as she donned her usual street clothes including her sword, which she wore openly at her hip. Elif had found out shortly after arriving in the city that even during the day it never hurt to remain on guard.

Having dressed, Elif exited her room at the Tipsy Falcon, a tavern down the street from the underground fighting ring, almost stepping on a peculiar note that had fallen to the floor. Curious, she picked it up to examine: it was white paper, thick, and spattered with multicolor ink, almost as if several inkwells had fallen over while the letter was being written. "This is new," she muttered to herself, smiling slightly as she broke the black wax seal to read it's contents:

Elif

Secure a table downstairs at noon. I have business to discuss

"Hm... blunt. I can appreciate saving pleasantries." She folded the note, placing it in a small bag she wore on her back. It would be some time before her appointment; breakfast was in order.

The inn was all but deserted downstairs aside from the staff, which was cleaning up from the previous night's ruckus. From the appearance of the place, ruckus was a weak word for what had went on. Tankards were strewn here and there, and two tables were upended. One maid was placing straw atop some older straw that had obviously been bloodied. Two men were carrying a third out into the street. He was limp as a willow, snoring slightly. Still, the kitchen seemed to be cooking something, and the wonderful smells filled the room. The counter was currently the only place clear that could be sat at, and one server was eating her breakfast there. She looked up as Elif made her way down the steps, and greeted her.

Replying as (Guard in his 30’s)Graeden to Deneth:

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[quote=Deneth]
Oh darn it... thought Deneth as he realised the young man had recognised him.

The kid had a sharp eye and had seen past the rough sergeant cloak and straight to his stripes. He was getting old and sloppy...

"Put your hand down! I am... er... incognito!" he snapped off with more urgency than irritation as he covered his shoulders with the thick wool cloth to hide what the man had seen already but to protect him from having anyone else see it.

"So yea, lets just walk over that shop, I guess we were both heading there and you will let me buy you one of those nice hot meat pies... The man that owns it has owned it for more than 40 years you know... hardly any poisonings at all!" said the Captain looking at the young mans eyes and considering how he should approach this. The newer generation did not really know of his habbits in pretending to still be a beat cop and should the Commander learn he was still at it, the bastard would tell his wife...

"You can speak by the way... just no sir, no captain and all that. Just Mr. Vims will do for now..." he added cautiously.

Incognito, huh? Ooops. He briefly feigned scratching his head instead of saluting. Luckily the street wasn’t well traveled this close to the wall. “Sure,” he said in response to the conspiring captain. “Dodging paperwork?” he asked with a smirk. He knew that’s what he would do, if he were a captain. As the two walked into the shop, he noticed there were a few tables, and a small kitchen. The man behind the counter spoke out.

“Den!” he said excitedly. “Welcome back! Haven’t seen you in ages. How many you want today? Looks like a two day, eh? And how about your friend…?”

“Oh, ah, Graeden,” he said, distracted by the name. Den…for a moment, he thought the shop owner was addressing him. Some of his friends back when he was in his twenties had called him Den. Den as in Deneth? It's the only Captain he knew of that fit that name. He’d heard mention of him, but never met him. He’d heard many things. Seems Graeden had run himself into a walking legend of the Guard. Good thing the smell of food was waking him up a bit. Perhaps the day was not yet over.

(Edited)

**Forever Curious** · 2012-08-15, 12:45 PM (ISO 8601)

Elif Aygul, responding to GM

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Replying as GM to Elif:

The inn was all but deserted downstairs aside from the staff, which was cleaning up from the previous night's ruckus. From the appearance of the place, ruckus was a weak word for what had went on. Tankards were strewn here and there, and two tables were upended. One maid was placing straw atop some older straw that had obviously been bloodied. Two men were carrying a third out into the street. He was limp as a willow, snoring slightly. Still, the kitchen seemed to be cooking something, and the wonderful smells filled the room. The counter was currently the only place clear that could be sat at, and one server was eating her breakfast there. She looked up as Elif made her way down the steps, and greeted her.

Well, this had certainly explained the commotion that had interfered with her sleep last night. She gave a small nod the the server... Ruth, was it? The Tipsy Falcon had quite a turn over rate, and all these servers looked the same to Elif. "Good morning," she replied flatly, taking a seat next to the server. "Another brawl," she remarked, the smells coming from the kitchen peaking her appetite. It was something she didn't recognize, but it smelled wonderful. "A new dish?" she asked directly to the server, turning her head to look at her.

**Exalaber** · 2012-08-15, 01:16 PM (ISO 8601)

Replying as Ander to "The Three":

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The three listen quietly to the young man as he listed off his answers, faces hidden within the shadows of their hoods. The left figure watched as Ander fiddled and fidgeted. He almost looked like he was mouthing to himself. Then suddenly, he changed. He stopped playing with his ring, he brought on a new composure, and then spoke clearly and calmly. This showed promise, Left thought.

“What do you mean ‘beyond the hearing of men’, Ander?” spoke the center figure.

It might be nice to have another someone in the midst of the nobles, but his uncle already did that, plus countless others that were servants, administrators, even one house leader belonged to the society. Still…the boy was lucky that Dalante wasn’t here – he would want him to have lied from the start about who he was. Almeran. It was amazing how many parts of things that man actually touched. He needed to be recovered. And soon. But on the subject at hand, even if they did accept Ander to the Society, he obviously needed training. They already knew plenty on him and his capabilities. He’d not be here had there been a doubt about these things. The trouble is, at the moment, he didn’t have anyone who could train him. Hmmmmm.

Ander reaches back to the spirit, pulling the unearthly calm back in, but keeping the alien will out, and faces the three, stairing into the shadows of the hood, the outline of the man's face clear to his elven eyes. He locks eyes with the man and says "I know there are not many elves running around this city, but surly you know that it is not just our subterrainian cousins that can see well in the dark. As to your question, I had hoped to avoid mentioning that, all I can say is that some more ethereal friends of mine say that a great place of walls, locks, and shadows is on the edge between destruction and prosperity, and they want me to witness the determination, I am here specifically because it was a condition of staying in my uncle's house." He continues to stare at the face that is only just to shadowed to read, and after a moment of calculating silence continues "you may want to get an oracle down here or a cleric or something, a... previous occupant wants to speak with you very badly." He suddenly wishes that he had taken his uncle's advice, and left the city.

**TheAntiplanar** · 2012-08-15, 01:41 PM (ISO 8601)

Reynald

After cooling down somewhat, Reynald returned to his cabin to throw on a navy overcoat and fetch his cane. He would need to look presentable to the Board. After all, appearance mattered in high Society... he chuckles softly. According to Captain Whitefeather, Aldhaven was fast approaching. He need only look out the window to see his home city, but Reynald finds himself hesitant. So many memories here... bad mixed in with the good. However, there was still the matter of the curse. At first, he had had absolutely no idea who had tasked the mage to cast the spell on him, but after finding out Almeran, he found the answer staring starkly back at him.
The Painters Guild. Of course, I still have no idea who they really are, only that they seem to oppose us at every turn. The name had come later, the last words of a dying man during a midnight raid. From all of the intelligence Reynald had gathered, the guild seemed to be comprised mostly of lower class thieves and assassins. Four Society agents had been murdered over the course of the last year, which led to yet another question.
Why did they curse me? Why am I still breathing? The mage could have killed me that night. For some reason, they want me alive. Reynald takes a deep breath. The Painters would be brought to heel, justice done against their ringleaders. But first, he needed to retrieve the double agent. He makes his way back above-deck, watching as the crew of the Herald made preparations to dock. The city was there now, looming. Every crack, stone and plank was exactly as he remembered it. Somehow, everything was different though. There was an aura of tension here. Even from several miles away, Reynald could sense it. Things were changing, and not necessarily for the better. His reverie is cut off at the approach of two sets of footsteps. The Twins, of course. Kirin and Arlin Corvayne, his two enforcers. They dressed the same, crimson coats over matching black pants and shirts, complete with golden belt and boot buckles. However, up close one could easily spot the differences. Kirin had a more muscular build, wearing her golden hair longer. Underneath her coat one could see twin hilts, the golden wire protruding somewhat. Arlin, on the other hand, was even skinnier than his sister. He bore no overt weapons, instead carrying several pouches with what looked like spell components, as well as a small book. Their violet eyes stare back at Reynald, awaiting his orders. The Twins knew him well.
"We have nearly arrived. Now, once we have docked I want you to split up and begin searching for a crew. Strength, loyalty, and avarice are the primary attributes you should be looking for. Start in the taverns and the arena."
"Where will we meet you?"
"I'm not sure yet. I have to check back in with the other Society members before I can leave. Here, take these. It will help us keep in touch." From one of his pockets, Reynald pulls a pair of dark gold earring studs. He hands one to each twin.
"I acquired these toys fresh off the Brunsgrove market at a wonderful price. These will allow the three of us to communicate telepathically for up to fifty miles. Only wear them when you absolutely need to talk: the enchantments on these will only allow a certain amount of chatter every day." Reynald nods, seemingly to himself. Yes, this would work. Hopefully, the Twins would be quick about their task. Looking up, he can see the Aldhaven docks quite clearly. This early in the morning, the pier was not too busy, but the banker could make out figures going about their business as usual... hold on. There was one figure standing at the edge of a dock, staring at the Herald of Dross as it approached. Apparently, the Society had sent someone to greet them.

**TechnOkami** · 2012-08-15, 02:01 PM (ISO 8601)

Jägerstein looks down in surprise. He was expecting customers, but to be honest, not nearly that quickly.

"Great, I'll be down in minute!" Rummaging of a drunk dwarf and a drunk bear can be heard as the two make their way downstairs.

Before he makes it all the way outside once again, he's stopped by a fellow named Jack. And after listening to his tale...

"A've got just de thing! 'ere! An ale on 'de house, spec'al openin' day!"

If he does drink it, its possibly one of the best brews he's come to taste.

Eventually, the main door opens up, as the great fuzzy mass that is smokey rolls out, with the Dwarf riding on top. Once the rolling stops, Jägerstein takes a look at his customesr.

"Oyi! Don' jus' stan' 'der! Come, sit where ye like. In, out, wherev'r! Oh-"

Jägerstein dusts himself off slightly before asking his next question.

"-wha' do ye wan' to drink?"

"An' it ain't de "Bear Necessities", it's de "Bear Necessity". Yer title implies there's more than one, when dere's only one true need in life, n' that's good drink a' hand."

**Calicade** · 2012-08-15, 04:44 PM (ISO 8601)

Maticus stalked along the directions that were given to him. Regularly looking at the parchment provided to him. There was little detail other than a simple explanation to meet where the mage, temple, and midtown districts all met. The roads were clearly placed before him, but there were too many options to be sure about the direction that the note dictated.

“To think, I explicitly said that I had never laid a foot in this city” Maticus grumbled as he scratched at his completely shaved head. He looked at the instructions one more time and crumpled the paper up and tucked it loosely into a tightly kept pouch on his waist.

After pushing the note into the pouch he completely took in his surroundings, and continue walking just before coming upon a small crossroads of three paths. He sat at a bench, still grumbling under his breath words that had no actual form other than to appease his need to argue. This was the first time he had used an informant that he himself did not know personally. The only reason he didn’t use one of his own informants was just the same reason why he felt lost. But to his knowledge, the informant that he was to me was well connected and always kept up on even the most recent news. This was just barely enough for Maticus to accept the terms and seek out the meeting place.

“Better show, or heads will roll..” Maticus growled to himself as he slouched forward on the bench keeping his head up keeping an eye out for any other comfort seekers.

Thread: Connection and Contention (IC)

Connection and Contention (IC)

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