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    Ettin in the Playground
     
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    Default Merchants of Elm (IC)

    MERCHANTS OF ELM IN-CHARACTER THREAD

    The World
    Please note: Map is not necessarily complete, and only the largest towns are marked. Assume many smaller settlements are scattered along the river and coastline.
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    The Great Plain of Essla is an untamed expanse, entered only by hermits, adventurers and mad sages. It is inhabited by strange, often dangerous wildlife and there are few places where water is easily found on the surface. The north edge of the Plain fades into tundra and the slopes of the North Wall, while the south end is a baked desert. A single major river runs down the eastern boundary of the Plain, and it is this river that is the axis of most civilized settlements.

    In many ways Essla is similar to Earth during the last Ice Age. Mastodons and other huge mammals roam the northern expanses, and the river that flows down from the glaciers is the life source. Civilisation is small and has come nowhere near filling up the continent. Empty land stretches in every direction; not all of it has even been mapped.

    The farther south one gets in Essla the more it reminds of ancient Greece. The architectural styles and local diet are similar to those of early (Classical or Heroic Age) Greece and Egypt. Most weapons are made of bronze.

    Many things are different from those real-life cultures, however, from the medieval architecture of the north to the use of coal as a fuel to the very high ratio of large predators to humans. Essla is a world characterised by untamed, perhaps untameable wilderness.

    There are two large kingdoms, Karr (capital city has same name) and Maena (capital Marion). Karr lives in the heart of big game country, having access to the entire Hand of Zeus (a vast lowland surrounded by the North Wall Mountains and glaciers). Hides, ivory, abundant meat and oil, rare creatures and plenty of water make Karr prosperous. The mines that turn out coal, copper, tin, and other precious metals are also a significant part of the economy.

    Maena's treasures include diverse seafood, spices, plentiful salt, olives, wine, glass and precious gems. Also, as Maena is situated on the sea it is able to spread out much more easily and comprises many unique, isolated settlements. In general, although Maena has less resources than Karr, it has a more advanced culture and its trade goods are worth more to Karr than Karr's are to Maena. As a result Karr bears the brunt of the cost of trade, paying tariffs to the Middle Kingdoms to ensure that caravans get through safely. These trade agreements are jealously guarded by Karr and are protected by military force if necessary.

    The Middle Kingdoms each have their own stake in the trade game, but they ae smaller and less formidable than the two big powers. This is largely because they are disorganised, being federations of small communities more than outright kingdoms.

    Humans are the predominant race in Essla, with halfling populations in some places and gnomes spotted on occasion out on the Plains. Just like Earth, Essla has tall tales of elves and dwarves but they are generally considered mere folklore. The "beast men" of the Plains are very real, however, comprising all manner of monstrous humanoids and usually working alone or in very small groups. Most beast men roam with packs of wild animals and may not have any human-level intelligence.

    All of Essla is a simple land, with only basic technology and magic. In many places people still live more as herders, hunters and gatherers than as farmers or urbanites. Magic is known of, but rare. There is no such thing as time travel, resurrection, or long-range teleportation.



    Elm
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    Elm is a warehouse town south of Karr, which has grown fat on trade with its southern counterpart, Marion. Each spring trains of yawls drift out of the Warehouse District, setting course to the riches of the south. Just as many yawls, as well as river boats and overland wagons, carry the previous year's boon out to the corners of Karr, and especially to the city of Karr itself.

    Elm was once a tiny settlement, a cluster of herders living at the foot of a fortified hill. An old keep still sits on the hill, but sees little service. With the yawl trade Elm became a crossroads of merchants and merchandise, and real estate became expensive. Many rich chiefs, barons, and traders have townhouses or entire estates on the East Bank and along Elm Hill. Opposite these mansions, the West Bank with its vast warehouses and yawl yards became the settling-place of the labourers, professionals, criminals, and other companions of industry. Growing rapidly with little regulation, the West Bank became an ugly, destitute heap of huts and tenements prone to fires, plagues and crime. The resulting Shanty Town marred the view from beautiful Elm Hill, and the wealthy got together and invested in the town's wellbeing: they generously funded the construction of a one-building-deep, full-town-long arcade of beautiful stone, brick, and plaster buildings. This strip, known as the Facing, provides a pleasant riverfront appearance to cover up Shanty Town.

    The businesses in the Facing vary greatly in purpose and quality, but generally they provide an adventurous alternative to the cafes and wine-bars of the East Bank. The rich go there to feel young, to affect populism, or to make their shady deals. The desperately poor go there to prostitute themselves or prey on the drunk. Most of the people living, staying, or dining along the Facing, however, are travelers: merchant guards, poor traders, mercenaries, hunters, and trappers.

    Two separate ferries (one at the north end of town and one at the south end) connect these disparate halves of Elm. The ferries shuttle people back and forth, bringing the rich to the poor and the poor to the rich. Elm makes no secret of its one and only purpose, and that purpose is money. The warehouses at the western end of Elm are its most desolate sector eight months out of the year, but without a doubt they are the heart and pulse of the place, the only reason why the poor put up with such conditions or why the rich bother to live there at all.


    The Gods
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    The major religion of Essla is centred around the pantheon of real-world ancient Greece. The gods have the same names and the myths are mostly the same except for their geographical settings. There are also some other religious paths, such as the animism favoured by druids (which is considered quite compatible with mainstream polytheism). Druidic teachings are somewhat more popular in Karr than elsewhere. Even among people who do not officially follow the druidic teachings, however, it is common to honour the spirits of trees and animals.

    Many of the modern concepts about Classical religion come from Victorian scholars who tended to demonise the gods and put everything in neat hierarchies. Because this causes so many real-world misunderstandings, I thought I would post a general idea of what the priests of Essla teach. Of course, characters are free to have wildly different opinions than priests do, but it might help to know the "party line" about the gods.

    First, although Zeus is nominally the leader of the Olympian gods, He is hardly the most important deity. Individual worshippers will focus on one or several gods, and generally each god's cult has some reason as to why their god is the most appropriate object of human worship. In addition, the Underworld gods are just as important as the Olympian gods, forming a second set of deities nominally led by Hades (or a third set, if you count the titans).

    Second, the deities are considered to be wonderful examples of virtue. In fact, ethics are a major concern of Classical religion. The idea is that virtuous people are well-liked and well-respected, and most importantly they have a chance of becoming sages or heroes and thus becoming immortalised in song, story and human memory (accumulating a good reputation for themselves, but also giving a leg-up to their descendants). There are some Underworld gods Who are sometimes shown as judging the souls of the dead, and there are different areas of the Underworld for the particularly just or wicked, but in general people are told to be ethical for three reasons:
    1) Rewards in this life, not the afterlife;
    2) For the sake of the virtues themselves, which are good in their own right; and
    2) the chance to become famous (and immortal in a sense).

    Of course, we all know the Greek deities act with anger, vengeance, or petty jealousy in a number of myths. The religious view is to take these stories metaphorically, as lessons that teach us about human behaviour or the natural world. Each deity represents a force of nature and so (for instance) when Hades abducts the daughter of Demeter, it doesn't mean Hades is a rapist but instead paints a poetic scene about the cycle of the seasons, showing the relationship between the season of death (fall/winter) and the season of life (spring/summer). The ancient Greeks were not encouraged to take all of their myths literally and in fact many priests taught that a literal interpretation of the myths was simplistic and immature.

    The last thing that should be said is that the gods do not commonly intervene in mortal affairs. Most religions, including those of Greece and Essla, teach that in times of tremendous need the gods may intervene on the side of justice. Most religions are also quick to point out that this is exceedingly rare, as the gods would rather see mortals learn to solve their own problems (and become virtuous and god-like) than fix everything. They have lived a long time and seen a great deal of war, bloodshed, and injustice committed by mortals; They have also seen that these things are always temporary and, on the grand scale of the universe, insignificant. In other words, they would rather stay in the role of advisor and good example than babysit us.

    Nonetheless, when a particular mortal seeks out a relationship with the gods and proves her/his devotion and loyalty, They will make special gifts of knowledge, wisdom, luck, or power to that person. Thus it is more often the little things (an opportunity here, a stroke of luck there) that show the hands of the gods touching the world. Divine magic is, of course, among the most impressive examples of gifts from the gods, and not all priests in Essla have access to such powers (in other words, many priests are Experts, not Adepts or Clerics).


    Bronze Tech
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    In a world with Bronze Age technology, there are a few things most characters would know about metalworking.

    For starters, Bronze is a broad term that included pretty much all alloys of copper. The most common bronze is copper/tin, and this is what is usually used to make weapons. Blades should have a 12% tin content; less and they are too soft. Tin is rare compared to copper and has the same price as silver (or sometimes gold, depending on price fluctuations).

    A number of other alloys can also be made, including gold- or silver-based alloys. Antimony would also be used at times.

    Iron, contrary to popular belief, is well known. People mining for copper or tin run into it from time to time and they understand it is another metal ore. The problem is that the Bronze Age fire and bellows technology cannot create temperatures hot enough to melt and refine iron. This means that iron is usually considered a relatively worthless ore, as it cannot be used for anything. However, from time to time a small bit of naturally pure iron is found that doesn't need to be refined. Thus, you may occasionally come across iron trinkets like a small knife or a brooch. You probably won't ever see anything larger than that made of iron, however.

    Fairly long blades can be made out of bronze as long as they have a good tin content and thick ribs running down their length. Swords as big as D&D "longswords" were historically made of bronze (the real-life medieval weapons known as "longswords", however, could not be made of bronze and expected to work well). To make blades, bronze is melted down and cast into the shape of the sword. The blade is then filed and polished till it is smooth, and the cutting edges are hammered until they are extremely dense and hard. These work-hardened edges can then be sharpened. Occasionally they may have to be re-hammered to stay in good shape.

    Handles are made of bone or wood, or occasionally are also solid bronze. The bronze components of the weapon are coated in beeswax to prevent corrosion or minor damage, and to keep the polished sheen of the sword. Bronze swords can be so brightly polished as to flash like golden mirrors as they are swung in battle.

    Real-world historians have done tests of bronze vs. iron weapons, and shown that the bronze weapons hold up surprisingly well against iron. Work-hardening the bronze goes a long way toward making it durable against iron. The reason bronze weapons went out of use historically is probably because of tin shortages (decreasing the quality and availability of blades). Iron swords were probably not thought of as being any better than bronze swords, at least at first, and may have even been regarded as ugly or chthonic.

    Most people are familiar with the basic idea of bronzeworking, and carry their currency in the form of "ring money" (gold rings, silver rings, and copper rings worth 1gp, 1sp and 1 cp respectively). Bronzeworkers, however, are professional specialists with a great deal of knowledge and training, and are very highly regarded by their communities.

    Weapons: All weapons except the Bastard Sword and Great Sword are available.

    Armour: See chart above.



    The Yawl
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    Representing one of the most impressive magical devices in an otherwise low-magic world, the Yawl has been a staple of transcontinental trade for nearly two centuries. Yawls only come from one place—the Wizards of the Pit in the North Wall Mountains.

    Yawls are essentially floating barns. They resemble Noah’s Arc, except that the top is almost as round as the bottom. Inside, they have a single spacious hold with a small strip of living quarters along the top. A functional yawl can float about 35 feet off the ground, more if pressed. It can move forward at an impressive 6 mph, backwards at a crawl, and not at all from side-to-side. A yawl turns slowly, and pilots must take great care to turn before reaching obstacles. For this reason yawls mostly travel by day.

    Yawls can hold up to twenty-five tons of cargo, gear and passengers. Anything over that limit impairs the yawl. An impaired yawl can barely move forward, dips down toward the ground and may move erratically or drift without direction. Yawls are normally filled right up to the maximum limit, since an empty or half-full hold does little to improve performance.

    The most important part of a yawl is its enchanted keel. The keel runs from prow to stern along the inside of the hull. A “false keel” can be seen outside the hull, but this is mostly to protect and reinforce the magic keel inside. These keels are made of special scented woods prayed over by wizards with knowledge of ancient magics. Although people occasionally claim to have learned the secret from the Wizards of the Pit, none of them have successfully built yawls of their own.

    A yawl will continue to function as long as its magic keel is intact. Veteran merchants and labourers along the trade route tell of yawls battered by war, little more than a long wooden keel and a few rib beams, that fly into town as proud as a young puppy. But a single crack through the keel will ground a yawl forever, no matter how good the condition of the rest of the vessel.

    Your yawl’s keel looks as bright and smooth as if it was buffed yesterday. The rest of its woodwork is worm-eaten, splitting, and even broken off in places. The hold smells vaguely of pickles and the sleeping quarters of urine.

    The so-called “rod” of the yawl is located at the back, but not everyone has the knack for controlling it. Those who do can use the rod, which is built into the keel, to control and steer the vehicle. A skilled helmsman can often leave the rod and walk freely about the ship, maintaining control through a light trance wherever she goes.



    Steering the Darn Thing
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    In general a yawl requires a Use Magic Device check to pilot; however, not everyone is capable of piloting a yawl. Roughly one in three people have the knack; for these people, a simple DC7 Use MD check will suffice in good weather. The DC rapidly escalates in any number of conditions, whether fighting winds, overloaded with cargo, suffering from keel damage, or trying to push the yawl beyond its normal capabilities (such as in a battle). In these conditions the helmsman's presence and complete concentration is required at the rod, and continuing to pilot the yawl provokes AoO's unless he or she succeeds on a Concentration check. Maintaining control of a yawl can be quite a strain, and may actually hurt the helmsman beyond a certain point.

    Under normal conditions, however, the helmsman can often pay very little attention to the rod, even leaving its immediate vicinity to wander about the ship. The farther he or she goes from the rod, the higher the UMD DC is. generally, the DC at the rod must be beaten by 5 or more to be able to control it remotely (so in good conditions, rolling a 7 allows control and rolling a 12 allows remote control).

    Any change in course requires a new roll. If a roll is failed, a yawl will usually continue its previous bearing; in stressful conditions, however, it may begin to fly erratically on a failed check.

    Strong winds are the single most common threat to stable flight, with yawl-versus-yawl combat being an occasional second. Battle yawls have become rare because of their slowness and general vulnerability; in wartime they are mostly just used as troop transports.

    People without the knack for yawl flight can attempt to pilot one anyway, but it is very difficult (+20 to the DC).



    False Physics
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    The state of scientific knowledge in Essla is, as might be expected of a low-technology world, limited. In many ways it is similar to the level of knowledge that was available in the Classical world (which is nothing to sneeze at: miniature steam engines, automated theatre-in-a-box, electroplating and water clocks are all possible). Some accurate and inaccurate notions are worth mentioning because they pertain to yawls.

    Scholars have figured out that objects of different weights fall at the same speed (a 1 lb. weight and a 50 lb weight dropped together will hit the ground together). They also figured out that air-resistance is the reason this doesn't always appear true: a feather falls slower than a lead weight because the feather "catches" on the air and floats down. (These concepts are sound physics).

    They have used this principle to explain the behaviour of yawls. An empty yawl and a yawl with 25 tonnes of cargo both travel a 6 mph. This is obviously because weight has no bearing on moving through air. (Modern physics would not support this idea).

    Of course, yawls no longer fly at 6 mph when they are loaded with more than 25 tonnes of cargo. Scholars reason this represents the limited strength of a yawl. Just as a person can run equally fast with or without a piece of paper in his hand, a yawl can handle a certain load just fine. But a person with a pig on their back or a yawl with 30 tonnes of cargo faulter and move slowly and clumsily. (This is a distortion of actual physics.)

    Most importantly, scholars have noted that a yawl with a 40 mph tail wind moves at the same speed as a yawl flying into a 40 mph head wind. They reason this is again due to wind resistance: the yawl is aerodynamic and so its speed is unaffected by winds. It bearing is affected, however, because only the front and back are aerodynamic; the sides aren't. This, they reason, is why storms can buffet and wreck yawls but not speed or slow them. (This is a gross misunderstanding of aerodynamics.)

    Since only the most powerful wizards can construct yawls and all yawls behave consistently with one another, it is generally accepted that yawls, although slow and vulnerable, represent the absolute pinnacle of magical flight technology. In such a low-magic world, this is probably true. The physics outlined above are taught at all reputable schools and colleges, and yawls are held in great esteem and awe by the population at large (much like biplanes and zeppelins were in the early 20th century).

    Therefore, people who question either the value of yawls or the mechanics by which they work will be met with doubt, mockery, and frustration. People who challenge yawls or widely accepted physics are treated much like real-life conspiracy theorists or people who believe in Bigfoot; maybe they can't actually be disproved, but they certainly are not taken seriously.


    The Route
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    The Trade Route mostly follows the Great River, and thus passes many towns along the way. If all goes well, a yawl traveling at full speed during caravan season can make the 4,300 mile trip in just under seventy two days. The return trip takes just as long, but since the caravan season only lasts about four months many merchants opt to wait till the following year for the return trip. This eats into profits but reduces the chance of encountering treacherous weather.

    At many places the Route departs from the river, keeping a straight path instead of following the long bends of the watercourse. Most of these departures are short-lived, meeting back up with the river in a day or so. Age-old markers dot the landscape to show yawl-flyers the way.

    There is one place where the Route divides. As merchants approach the Thrust Mountains, they have a choice: follow the river west of the mountains, staying close to civilization; or fly over the forested foothills east of the mountains. The forest is wild, but since most weather comes from the west there is little risk of encountering dangerous winds. Both routes take about the same amount of time—if nothing untoward happens.

    Caravan season runs from May 15 to September 15, give or take depending on conditions. Flying a yawl any earlier than that risks being caught in a freezing rain, late blizzard or massive wind off the Plain. Continuing any later comes with the chance that a break-down or delay will leave one trapped in the winter weather, with no hope of help till spring.


    Family History
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    Generation 1: Granddad (Andromedos) and Grandma (Achyllea)

    Granddad was a bright and adventurous man in his youth. He rose from a poor flyer to a self-made merchant and founder of Asterix Co. (which he always billed as “Asterix Company, Merchants of Elm”). His company struggled for the first two years of operation, but took off after he met his match in Achyllea. Grandma and Grandpa roamed over the expanses of plain, along the coast, and to the far north – even going to the Pit itself. Both were wild-spirited and cunning, and neither was particularly faithful to the other (although they seemed to sincerely love each other). After accumulating a string of legitimate and illegitimate children Granddad died at age 35 on an expedition in the Hand of Zeus, allegedly by making ill-advised modifications to his yawl and trying to cross large bodies of water. Grandma lived on another 5 years before wasting away and succumbing to a long illness.

    Generation 2: Saker, Dad (Orikedes) + Mom (Achangea), a sister and her husband, a sister who died young, two acknowledged bastard brothers and who knows how many other bastards as well. Orikedes was the oldest.

    Orikedes inherited the family business, which he was well-trained to do. His gambling cost him money but, at least at first, he had enough of it to spare. The whole family tends to drink heartily, but not usually to excess; as business turned sour, however, he turned more and more to alcohol as his medicine. By the time his older kids were reaching puberty he was a distant, bitter, sullen alcoholic. Never particularly abusive, he mostly just disappointed his wife and children time after time.

    Achangea is the younger daughter of a baroness and her marriage to Orikedes was a contract between the two families: money for the baroness, prestige for the merchant. Achangea was a dutiful, if wistful wife and took care of her children, doing her best to shield them from the reality of father and finances. Mom exemplified aristocratic manners on the one hand, with an almost juvenile sense of humour on the other. He jokes were not well received by her husband.

    Despite their differences, Mom and Dad seemed to be faithful to each other. Orikedes was always angered by his parent’s flagrant affairs, especially his father’s, and did not want to be like him. Whether Achangea was similarly virtuous or simply afraid of her husband is unclear.

    Orikedes died of alcohol poisoning just over a year ago and was found alone in his study, sprawled on the floor with soiled pants and a stained shirt. Details were not disclosed to the public.

    Unlike most of the family Achangea has managed to live past age 40. However, within a few weeks of her husband’s death her family arrived to take her away. She made a show of wanting to stay with her children but the general consensus is that she was relieved to get away. Her marriage contract was tampered with by her family lawyers so that she is not accountable for the debts of her late husband. This was probably arranged by her mother, who never liked Orikedes and seems mildly sickened by his children.

    Mom still writes from time to time, but it is clear that she is being kept at a distance from the disgraceful Kite family.

    Generation 3: PC’s other than Saker, all between ages 15 and 22.
    Last edited by Another_Poet; 2008-02-25 at 12:44 PM.
    I just published my first novella, Lúnasa Days, a modern fantasy with a subtle, uncertain magic.

    You can grab it on Kindle or paperback.

    Proud to GM two Warhammer Adventures:


    Plays as Ulrich, Student of Law

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    Ettin in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: Merchants of Elm

    May 2, Morning
    Starting Locations

    Morning light creeps across the town of Elm. Yesterday was May Day, a festival of springtime. Pots of early flowers decorate both banks of the river, and the garbage and hungover silence of the morning after a major holiday permeate the streets. The welcoming of spring is a fickle business in Karr, and this year is no exception: yesterday’s mild weather gave way to a hard frost during the night, leaving flowers frozen and withered. Damp hangs in the air and fog drifts down alleys as the frost begins to melt.

    The Facing has the first view of the sun over Elm Hill and its the inns and brothels begin to come alive. Rustin walks down the steps of one such hostel to the smell of sweat and "the stew", a tea made of reindeer lichen. The stuff is a traditional breakfast in Karr - thick, slimy, and piping hot it has a bitter and is good for the liver and kidneys. When possible the locals mix in various herbs, especially lemon grass. Children may get a dollop of honey in theirs while adults are more likely to cut it with gin. No spices or sweeteners are on hand in this dingy inn, but cheap gin is certainly available. The stew itself is free to guests, as are hard rolls that appear to have spots of white mold on them.

    Lonna has worked herself into somewhat cozier surroundings, and is able to look out a bay window in the tea room of her inn. The room is heated by two polished braziers, a bit of incense added to the warm coals in each. Her merchant friend was kind to her, but then, the papers she gave him were good. A sizeable ceramic pot of stew and a mug are placed before her on a tea tray; a few others in the room are enjoying the same. One man has clearly started his day with a mug of purple spice, and he stares out the window with the dumb smile of someone too strung out to think. The purple spice in a place like this can't be particularly high quality, but it clearly got this man tingling.

    Out in the streets behind the Facing young William is peeking around a corner. Spending the colder part of the night huddled behind crates to get out of the wind is far from comfortable, but he's been through worse. More worrisome are the guards who busted up his gang the other day. He isn't sure if they saw him but he's sure he heard strange voices, adult voices, when he crept into the old hideout. No hideout means no stash, and no stash means no roof for his head. His stomach rumbles as he steps out into the street amidst heaps of dirty, melting snow and a few birds pecking at the mud.

    On the shady western slop of Elm Hill, the old Kite estate is slower to receive first light. The manor house is locked and empty, all the windows are blocked with cheap curtains and a raven croaks his morning song on the roof. Behind the manor house and across the weedy garden a little bungalow puts out the only wisp of smoke. Its coal stove has burned low over the course of the night and it barely heats the house at all. In the loft, Acanthe and Natsume can hear the pitter-patter of rain beginning to hit the rooftop. Through the open door of the first-floor bedroom Padraeg and Garrin might catch sight of the mouse that creeps across the packed earth floor. The chamberpots in both bedrooms could stand to be taken outside, but there is little other incentive to get out of bed. Or there wouldn't be, except today is the day the siblings are supposed to go take possession of their new yawl.

    Not far away Uncle Saker makes his way up the cobblestone lane that leads from the East Bank to Elm Hill. If he was worried he would make a bad impression arriving by foot rather than coach, his worries have given way to a more immediate concern: it appears that the iron gate of the family estate, about a block ahead of him, is wrapped with heavy chain to hold it shut. Could it be a security measure? The family was never so concerned about intruders, and in any case there should be a gatekeeper on hand.

    He pauses to catch his breath and feels the rain start to fall.


    ...Begin!
    Last edited by Another_Poet; 2008-02-05 at 09:50 PM.
    I just published my first novella, Lúnasa Days, a modern fantasy with a subtle, uncertain magic.

    You can grab it on Kindle or paperback.

    Proud to GM two Warhammer Adventures:


    Plays as Ulrich, Student of Law

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    Default Re: Merchants of Elm

    Draego

    rolls out of bed onto the hard floor and does a few pushups to warm up, then some limbering up stretches. The cracks and pops of his joints are fairly disquieting in the enclosed space.
    After a couple of minutes of this he pops to his feet and pokes Garrin with his toe...

    "Up with the sun, the hunt is afoot!"

    Padraeg is obviously excited to get the day started. He pulls on his buckskins and starts preparing some form of meal and cleaning the area in readiness for departure.

    He'll whistle up the stairs when food is ready.
    The significance of man is that he is insignificant and is aware of it.
    - Carl Becker

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    Ettin in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: Merchants of Elm

    There's a little tin of reindeer moss on the shelf, and the kettle was left sitting on top of the stove so it wouldn't freeze. There are also quite a few turnips in the cupboard, some salted meat being saved for dinner, a pitiful portion of flour, and a half-empty honey jar that hasn't been touched in some time.
    I just published my first novella, Lúnasa Days, a modern fantasy with a subtle, uncertain magic.

    You can grab it on Kindle or paperback.

    Proud to GM two Warhammer Adventures:


    Plays as Ulrich, Student of Law

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    Ogre in the Playground
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    Default Re: Merchants of Elm

    Saker trudges wearily up the hill toward the family house his brother had inherited along with the business. It was a shame how the business seemed to be wobbling on the brink of failure last time he was in town. Still, with a little luck the business should be doing better and allow him to unwind and trade stories while he rethinks his life, again. Given his sorrows it would be only fair if his brother's estate had enjoyed prosperity.

    ... or maybe that just wishful thinking. he thought with a sigh as he saw the gate chained shut.

    For a moment he stands uncertainly leaning on his spear, shivering a bit as the cold drizzle starts to seep through his battered leather armor. With a sigh he starts forward again, the gatekeeper should let him in... although from the looks of the place he would settle any sign of habitation or just a friendly local to tell him what has called the entire Kite estate away and where they might be found.

    It would be my usual luck if my brother has already left on a trade run and taken everyone with him. At worst their should be grounds keeper somewhere I can spend the night with... should.
    Last edited by Psionic Dog; 2008-02-05 at 10:32 PM.
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  6. - Top - End - #6
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
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    William

    Rubbing at his eyes, the young boy took a second to stretch, cracking his neck before squatting down in the shadow of the structure that had been his shelter for the night.

    Idly watching one of the birds as it searched for it's breakfast, William thought over his situation. It certainly wasn't good. He had managed to retrieve a few things from the hideout last night, but his fears had been confirmed. No one at the usual rendezvous points, and that...thing's goons in the hideout...everyone from the Stone Beasts was either gone, dead, or worse, captured by...

    Refusing to let himself finish that thought, he hefted himself to his feet. He knew that while he tried to put on the show of a professional, like he had been shown so many times over the past year, the only person he needed to fool, himself, knew that he was nothing but a scared little boy.

    He needed to get out! He just wasn't cut out for this sort of thing alone, he had always been the baby of the group, kept around more often than not for his cooking skills and smarts, rather than any of the usual qualities a boys' gang looked for.

    He wasn't stupid enough to think he could escape on foot, the guards would be looking for him at every entrance, and people in nearby villages were sure to already be alerted...He needed somewhere to hide, or some other way out.

    His pondering didn't last long however, as his sudden upwards movement had attracted the eye of something that would rate a hell of a lot higher on William's mind...

    ((OOC: AP, I didn't know if you wanted to control the NPC guards, but I figured I might as well get the ball rolling and have him attract their attention. ^^ I left any relevant actions open, and it's worded so if you don't want to go that way yet, it could be something else.))


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  7. - Top - End - #7
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    Lonna

    Her breakfast finished, Lonna sipped thoughtfully at the last of her tea, allowing her straight, shoulder-length black hair to fall in a curtain around her face while she pondered her next course of action. That she would be going into Shanty Town was a given. She had done exceptionally well during the festivities of the night before, so she could afford to grease some palms in exchange for information about her family.

    "Or I could just go see them..."

    She said the thought aloud, as if tasting the idea. Taking a last mouthful of tea, Lonna grimaced, though whether it was the bitter dregs or bitter memories that prompted the expression, even she was unsure. She had had this internal debate every year when she came down for the festival, and every year she had shunned all contact with her family. Sighing softly, Lonna wondered if she would ever face a situation pressing enough to make her resume contact with her family. Certainly her father's death had not been enough...

    Dismissing such thoughts with a slight shake of the head, Lonna pulled back her hair and, with the ease of long practice, tied it in place with a leather thong. Standing up, she barely noticed the weight of the finely crafted bronze rapier hanging on her left hip. Out of habit, she stroked first the ivory-handled bronze dagger in its sheath on her right, then the belt pouch that hung just below her naval. Reassured that the possessions most crucial to her livelihood were secure, she headed for the back door, nodding politely but distantly when the man she had previously noted taking purple spice turned to stare at her almost feline stride.

    Outside, Lonna gazed around at the beginning of the sprawling slum known as Shanty Town. It was time to see what had changed in the last year... Time to look up the rumor-mongers.
    Last edited by Lonna; 2008-02-06 at 02:48 PM.
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  8. - Top - End - #8
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    -=Grumble THUMP!=-

    It was a sound that the small household was amply familiar with. Natsume was many kinds of pleasant, waking up was not one of them. The red-head tended to talk to herself as she woke up and rolled out of bed without looking. Problem being that "bed" was now a hammock, and rolling out of it implied a close personal meeting with the floor below.

    "Arrrrrrgh! Fscking floor, fscking morning, fscking sky boats!"

    It was odd hearing someone say "fscking" instead of the actual curse. She continues grumbling, again incoherent, and shuffles up onto her hands and knees. She crawls over to the other hammock and reaches up a hand to shake Acanthe's shoulder.

    "Hey, heeeeeeeey. Wake up wake up wake up! S'morning."

  9. - Top - End - #9
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    Garrin

    Being prodded with a toe was no way to wake up, especially with a hangover from the festival the day before.

    "GoGo, you do that again and I'll kick your...", Garrin starts, before he realizes that Draego has already left the room. What could possibly have him so chipper this early in the morning? Oh... right. It's today we really commit to Natsume's crazy idea.

    Garrin had to admit that he was desperate for money, and reviving the family business, while dull work, was the best route for getting it. Still, he held doubts about this idea of risking what little they had left on one run. It was risky, but really, was there anything left to lose? Garrin decided not to mull it over any further as his head was hurting (likely from the hangover), so he gets up and walks into the next room to find some way to torment Draego.
    Last edited by Duke of URL; 2008-02-06 at 10:29 AM.


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  10. - Top - End - #10
    Ettin in the Playground
     
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    Saker:

    As you peer between the bars of the gate you can see the little gatekeeper hut, (a "hut" in name only, made of stone and with a moss-covered slate roof). The door is closed, which is fine, but so is the little window that looks out at the gate. You also notice that there is no longer a bell hanging above it. This place is closed up.

    The raven on the roof of the house seems to have tired of his own musical performance, and flaps away, swooping low somewhere off to your right. To your right? If memory serves there should be a second, much smaller gate down the way - a servants' gate just wide enough for a single person on foot.

    ***********

    William: ((Yeah I'll generally control the NPCs but that was fine, I think it's a good way to get things started.))

    Across the street from you is a single guard, unusual in a place like this. He tries to smooth his wrinkled uniform and he looks over at you. He has just stumbled around the corner of a narrow avenue down the way, and is maybe sixty feet from you. He stares at you intently as you freeze.

    "Hey boy, what's your name?" he asks. It's hard to say whether he is hungover or still drunk. One thing is for sure, though, his shakey hands are already fumbling for his signal whistle.

    ************

    Lonna:

    It's a bit of a walk to get into Shanty Town, even though the back of your inn technically faces the slums. The well-to-do built the Facing to contain and conceal the masses, and they did a good job; the long facade is only broken by through streets in a few places. After abotu two blocks you manage to turn down one such street and another short block later you see the architecture change drastically.

    The place seems familiar: no matter how many coats of paint, layers of plaster, or changes of decor the Facing undergoes, good old Shanty Town always looks the same. And smells the same. Whatever poets write about rain washing away filth, in the slums rain is only one more ingredient in the permanent scent of decay. It won't be long before large puddles block much of the way.
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  11. - Top - End - #11
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    William

    William felt his legs stiffen at the sight of the guard, caught between trying to run and bluff his way out. On the one hand, he knew that he was faster than this man, but if he blew that whistle, it would not likely end well.

    "I'm J-Jh-Jonathan, sir." He stammered, trying to look as presentable as possible. "I...I'm simply on an errand for my mother." He shifted his weight, ready to sprint at a moment's notice.

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  12. - Top - End - #12
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    The guard pauses and squints at you. "Jon'thon?" This seems to confound him. "Where does your mammy live, m' boy?"
    Last edited by Another_Poet; 2008-02-06 at 10:59 AM.
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  13. - Top - End - #13
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    William

    William's eyes darted, trying desperately to think of a good place. Coming up with none, he shakily pointed towards the south.

    "Th-that way, sir, not too far from here."

    He took stock of his surroundings, if the guard decided that he didn't believe him, then he would make a dash for the southwest, and try to lose him in some of the back alleys of Shanty town. It seemed like his best chance.


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    The guard shakes his head and starts to walk toward you. "You shouldn't be out so early, place isn't safe." He stumbles briefly but keeps walking. "I'll walk you home, boy."
    I just published my first novella, Lúnasa Days, a modern fantasy with a subtle, uncertain magic.

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  15. - Top - End - #15
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
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    Rustin was not exactly a morning person in the cold mornings of Elm. After trodding down the steps he went and got himself a cup of the morning "stew." He could have bought gin for it, but told himself he preffered the bitter taste to help wake him up. This was a lie, as he was trained in waking up fully in a moments notice, and that has stuck with him all this time. The real reason was because work wasn't exactly a constant in Rustin's life. If he spent two copper peices on gin, then he wouldn't have those same two later for, say, a loaf of bread.

    After finishing breakfast in a couple of swigs(it keeps the bitter aftertaste down), Rustin stands and with a breif stretch, he walks into the morning light that is shantytown. He started with the market district, got himself a slightly stiff loaf of bread and started walking as he ate. He was heading to the rougher end of Shantytown, which is saying something. This is where his usual contacts for jobs and such showed up. He had a job on the First, but now it was the second and he needed a job to help feed him for the next couple of weeks hopefully.
    I heard a voice from above, claiming to be in charge of my destiny. After shooting it twice, it never came back.” – From Floral Justice

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  16. - Top - End - #16
    Ogre in the Playground
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    Saker stared in dismay at the boarded up gate house and glances nervously around. It was starting to look like he had come home to a nightmare.

    For a moment he fingers the gate as if he might try climbing it, but in the end he turns away and follows the raven off to the right. It would probably be wise to ask a few questions in town before attempting to scale the fence, and there was still the side entrance to try too come to think of that.

    As he approaches the servant's entrance he calls out: "Helloooo! Kite Residence, any one home?"

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  17. - Top - End - #17
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    Draego

    is bouncing on his toes, moving energetically about the room when Garrin comes out and Natsume and Acanthe come downstairs. The waft of breakfast fills the room (fair or foul, I leave to your decision)... He has stoked the stove and it's welcome heat begins to fill the room.

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  18. - Top - End - #18
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    Garrin

    Garrin steps over to the stove for warmth. He decides against commenting on the odor in the room. Today begins the change... either this will be a distant memory, or things will actually wind up worse. No point in dwelling on what we currently lack.

    He takes his portion of food, and absently eats it while he listens to the raindrops pattering on the roof. One could almost think they made a voice!

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    "Thanks, GoGo... it's always good to start the day off right." Any hint of sarcasm is drowned out by the fuzziness of a hangover-induced slur. Seeing Natsume and Acanthe, he says, "so... are we ready to do this?"


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  19. - Top - End - #19
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
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    Lonna


    Lonna wrinkled her nose as the unpleasant but familiar smell of Shanty Town washed over her. Picking her way down the alley (she had decided it was too narrow to deserve the term 'street'), she tried, without much success, to avoid the worst of the slime. Her sturdy leather boots would need a thorough cleaning before she returned to her room, or else the innkeeper might not let her back inside.

    Pausing for a moment under the eves of one of the sturdier looking huts, Lonna stood still, thinking. The most reliable rumor-monger was Bert the Cripple, a beggar and thief who suffered from a different life-impairing "injury" every few months. Better still, Lonna had just remembered that he owed her a favor for confirming his alibi after he was almost caught with his hand in someone else's purse last May Day. This time of year Bert could normally be found in the warehouse district, begging from foreign merchants who weren't as familiar with his tricks as the locals were. The real question was, where in the warehouse district was he?

    No help for it I guess. I'll just have to search the whole place.

    With a sigh of resignation, Lonna headed out in as close to a westward direction as the maze of Shanty Town would allow, aiming for the southern end of the warehouse district.
    Last edited by Lonna; 2008-02-09 at 10:43 AM.
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  20. - Top - End - #20
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    ((I should note that Acanthe hasn't necessarily woken up or come downstairs yet; we have yet to hear from her.))
    I just published my first novella, Lúnasa Days, a modern fantasy with a subtle, uncertain magic.

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  21. - Top - End - #21
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    William

    The boy's eyes widened as the man made his way closer. "N-no need, sir. My mother would be quite disappointed..." He started to walk backwards, out of the way of the man's grasp.

    Seeing that his words were having little effect, and that the man continued to come towards him, it didn't take long before William's fight or flight instinct got the better of him, and with a quick kickoff, he bolted.

    Turning the corners of buildings at a speed which proved his familiarity, he weaved in and out of alleys, doorways, and anything else he could think of, every evasive tactic he knew bubbling to the surface, regardless of if anyone was still following him.

    He made his way to the west-southwest, hoping to find somewhere in the warehouse district to lose any pursuers he had or may have gained.


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  22. - Top - End - #22
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    Rustin:

    You walk down North Avenue and through the neighbourhood known as the Bear. The Bear gives way to the closest thing Shanty Town has to a real market: a five-point intersection where the site of a burned-down building has come to serve as a commons. The bleached wood frames of market stalls line the streets and the triangular commons but there are few sellers and fewer buyers so early. About half the stalls are empty even during business hours, and many of the others are fronts for black market dealers. At least one haggard vendor looks sincere: a middle-aged man setting out his jars of pickled eel, pickled onions, and pickled hog-feet.

    Before you reach the market proper, a tall heavy man on a balcony yells to you. "Ah, a beautiful spring morning dampened by a crappy city, but who comes along to brighten my spirits. Mister Rustin, would you step inside?"

    Mikos Grawngor is something of a local boss, owner of the tavern/bordello from which his balcony so proudly protrudes and widely known as a loudmouth and a cutthroat bargainer. His jobs aren't always top-rate but he has a reputation of seldom double-crossing those he employes. He waves for you to enter the tavern and makes to go inside, presumably to meet you.

    *************************

    Siblings:

    ((You don't hear Saker; the bungalow is way at the back of the estate, and between the rain and the distance it'd be hard to hear him even outside.

    Your breakfast is nice though, at least for the modest fare you've come to accept. I'll presume a pot of hot lichen stew and maybe a few dense griddlecakes made with the flour.))

    ************************

    Saker:

    You get no answer but might be relieved to see no chains on the side-gate. It's just a little archway carved into the wall, less then six feet tall and two feet wide. It has a metal door, which at first pull appears to be locked; further inspection reveals no visible lock (the bolt may only be rusty). A pile of discarded chain with an unlocked padlock lies in the grass inside the gate.

    A narrow path of heavily-trodden grass within the gate leads off into the estate, offering the hope that someone still comes in and out on a regular basis.

    ((I'm going to assume that fastidious Acanthe would normally take her job seriously enough to keep the side-gate securely locked, but that an inebriated Garrin stumbled through late last night and barely managed to bolt the thing after himself. If anybody objects just let me know and I'll come up with some other excuse for an unlocked gate.))

    ******************

    Lonna:

    As you head westward the rain lightens up a little bit. You notice a knife lying in a puddle, and several pigeons greet the morning with sullen chirping on the peak of a nearby roof. Up ahead on the left you see a small temple to Apollo, a corner building with its door (currently closed tight) on an angle. Small alcoves to either side of the door hold shrines that face the streets: to the right, a shrine to the Glorious Youth; to the left a shrine to His sister Artemis. Soggy flowers and a few small offering bowls adorn the shrines and the building is conspicuously free of grafiti.

    Ahead on the right two men step out of a doorway. They are dressed in the sky-blue cloaks of the guard, and both clutch mugs of stew in their hands. They mumble to each other and laugh a bit as they step out onto the street, then one of them sees you.

    "Hallo!" he calls. "A beautiful May morning to you, turtledove. I don't think I've seen you round here before."

    His friend gives you a smile was probably meant to be charming, but comes off as more of a leer.
    Last edited by Another_Poet; 2008-02-06 at 03:54 PM.
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  23. - Top - End - #23
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    William:

    As you run, you hear the guard behind you sputter, then curse, then (after a long pause) blow his whistle. Wheet! Wheet! Wheet! That's never good.

    The drunk man doesn't seem capable of following you but it isn't long before you hear another wheet from up ahead. As you burst out of an alley you can see a more able-bodied guard off to your right (the north) - and he sees you. The street to your left (south-ish) is clear except for a stray dog scratching at its fleas and two women, one middle-aged and one older, who are picking their way between puddles. It's a long block with no alleys or side streets, but you can see that it opens up onto South Avenue by Dancing Python Temple, an oracular temple dedicated to Apollo. South Ave. is a major street and you may be able to disappear - if you can outrun the guard the whole way there.
    I just published my first novella, Lúnasa Days, a modern fantasy with a subtle, uncertain magic.

    You can grab it on Kindle or paperback.

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    Lonna


    Lonna eyes the knife, wondering who dropped it, why, and whether she should risk picking it up, as she turns to answer the guard.

    "Almost certainly you have not seen me, good sir." she replies, gritting her teeth in what might be mistaken for a smile. Much as she would like to give a sharp retort, there is no guarantee that he intended anything offensive with the too-familiar greeting. For now it is better to play it safe. "I live in Karr, but I came down for the festival with a merchant friend of mine."
    Last edited by Lonna; 2008-02-09 at 10:51 AM.
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    (... either he is that good or he has spent a looong time working on this city.)

    Rustin smiles and turns upwards to see Mr. Grawnor. He liked Mr. Grawnor. Not always the best of company, but he sells you a straight deal and he tries to keep the place classy, unlike some of the taverns and bordellos in shantytown.

    Rustin always felt underdressed when entering a bordello type place. All the girls are dressed very nicely to impress the men and all the men are dressed nicely because they have money to do so. Rustin only has his worn lookign clothing and dirty shoes. Heck, his cape is starting to tear at the edge. Luckily it still held his knives well enough. and his belt is sturdy and holds his axes. He tries to keep them as hidden as possible, so as not to alarm people, particularly police.

    Rustin steps into the tavern entrance of the place, and looks around, letting his eyes adjust to the dimmer inner area. There was barely a soul here. Mostly due to hangover, but also because most people can't hide themselves as well in daylight. Wouldn't do to have people think you are coming to a Bordello. But Rustin didn't mind what people said about himself personnally, as long as they said nice things proffessionally.
    I heard a voice from above, claiming to be in charge of my destiny. After shooting it twice, it never came back.” – From Floral Justice

    “Fear is only a Dream – so dream, my little one, dream” – R.K. Milholland

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  26. - Top - End - #26
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    Acanthe rises at dawn and spends an hour or so in stretches and calisthenics she learned as from her mother. "Always warm your body before the day starts and especially before you dance. Otherwise your knees will spend every moment of middle age making you regret it," she used to say. Then she makes her walk around the manor grounds checking for squatters, thieves and vermin.
    Last edited by HazelStone; 2008-02-07 at 09:43 AM.

  27. - Top - End - #27
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    Lonna:

    "Well, love, maybe I can show you around. I'd hate for you to get lost." The talker walks toward you with a very fake-looking smile on his face. His companion follows, fanning out a bit. Thr first man's voice takes on a sinister note as he continues "This is a dangerous part of town - anybody round here is probably a criminal."

    "I like brunettes," says the other one.

    ******************

    Rustin:

    Mikos walks down the stairs carrying an open and half-empty bottle of what appears to be gin. "Still walking the streets alive and free, and haven't been to see me in weeks. What under Olympus have you been up to? Don't answer, drink!" Before he reaches ground floor he tosses the bottle to you (still uncorked) and goes on.

    "Can I get you some time with one of my girls? One of the boys perhaps?"

    ((If you venture to drink from the unlabelled bottle you will find it is not gin per se, but apparently a reindeer moss liqueur that effectively cuts the middle man - the healthy part - out of morning stew. An ill-advised recipe for sure.))

    ********************

    Acanthe & Saker:

    As Acanthe walks up the footpath to the dront of the house she sees the the side gate was not properly locked last night. She also spies a man about her own age, whom she may or may not recognise, standing just outside it.

    Saker catches movement down the path before he hears anyone coming.
    Last edited by Another_Poet; 2008-02-06 at 04:45 PM.
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  28. - Top - End - #28
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    Lonna's Avatar

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    Default Re: Merchants of Elm

    Lonna


    Lonna's hand strays to her sword, a clear warning in her expression as her voice gains a steely note, all semblance of friendliness gone. "I think I can take care of myself."

    If the men attack, she'll put her back to the wall on her left and try to edge down toward Apollo's shrine while holding them off with her rapier. Hopefully they will be more hesitant to attack when she has longer reach and holy ground at her back.
    Last edited by Lonna; 2008-02-09 at 10:52 AM.
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  29. - Top - End - #29
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
    Sornas's Avatar

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    William

    Sprinting ahead, William ran full-tilt towards South Ave.

    If there is one thing he had on the adults, it was speed, and all he had to do was find somewhere to hide. Like it was that easy.

    As he barreled through the puddles, he yelped a quick "Sorry!" To the two women, and continued his escape.

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    I don't know how you want to resolve the chase, but I was bored earlier and did some quick math, and William's full out run is a little bit over 18 Mph. ^^


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    Sornas by Lord Iames Osari, Thanks! ^_^

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  30. - Top - End - #30
    Ogre in the Playground
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    Saker

    The travel stained man on the other side of the gate is of average hight and a bit on the thin side. He's wearing worn leather armor and is casually carrying a spear in his hands, has a crossbow dangling at his side, and a mid-sized backpack and bedroll on his back. He was in the process of cautiously pushing the gate open with his spear butt when he notices the woman approaching.

    Something about her looks familiar to the man...

    "Arinsha?" He hazards, "Orikedes's yawl pilot? Is that you?"
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