Ongoing Games (In-Character)Play-by-post games are going on in this forum as we speak (well, read). All threads on this board are actual games, so please, only post on a thread if you are a player of that game.
Searching for a cure has been a long journey. At first the humans offered several treatments from balsams and oils to leeches but it seems that nothing has helped you in the past. Even if you have never ceased in your search it seems like no human healing method can help you.
Rumors are that there are medicinal herbs in the jungle, good medicines that might help you if you find a good healer. Most of the humans of Arcadia mention it whenever they are asked, the jungle can heal, but it seems that it can also kill rather easily. Humans are scared; they have cut down most of the trees surrounding the small city and recluse themselves behind the wall. Even if you have tried no one has joined you in an expedition.
You are alone now, walking the Hangman Street by the arena of Arcadia when you hear a sweet voice.
-You seem sick little man.
The voice pertains to an elf, and since she is not completely covered you can ascertain that she is a woman. Her skin is pale and soft, but not as white as her hair, which is almost as white as snow. Her purple eyes almost don't look at you, like she keeps an eye on her surroundings. She appears to be young even if her colors might make her appear old, but you never can tell with an elf.
-Does it hurt?
It hasn't been a productive week and you know it. Arcadia seems apathetic like a tired crone. But rumors on the other side are erupting. Maron Goldtooth has a map, a dusty old map. Some say it's elven written on golden parchment with magical ink that swirls around to show the way. Some say that it's not parchment but human skin and the letters are of dry human blood, and if you listen to it you can hear the ululating voices of the tormented souls imprisoned on it. Others believe that it’s made of dragon skin and printed with fire.
Some rumors also mention that Maron has gone mad over it, like a crazy old fool. And they might be into something; everyone knows that Maron has so much gold that he swims on it. That much gold should make you go crazy. But whatever, Maron is founding an expedition to the jungle, and that's rare, but he promises gold, good old shiny gold.
Maybe you could pay him a visit.
A shadow fickles by you. It doesn't take long before you realize that it is in fact a raven. A black raven dark as the deepest winter night. The bird hasn't made a noise until it has appeared and it looks unnerving, almost unnatural, looking you in the eye with an intelligence that is alien to an animal.
It has a small parchment at its beak and tosses it to you, slowly enough so you can get it without trouble.
It has come to our attention, dear Rosapia that the quest on finding those renegades has been hard and slow, but you are closer than you might think. Our readings on the beacon are getting stranger. Maybe there is another talisman nearby, a talisman that we cannot reach directly for it is blocked, but perhaps you can. If anyone is stupid or daring enough to carry it on the open… chances are that is not one of the fugitives but it bears questioning nonetheless.
The letter is written in a familiar writing. Old Hob one of the oldest necropolitans where you were converted signs it and it is clearly his style. The raven looks at you studying your reaction with picked interest.
Breathing is so dull and boring. Eating is in fact considerably unnecessary. The physical world is clearly overrated and by no means should you be obliged to trade gold for commodities. But sometimes the tool needs some attention too. And in those rare cases you need to trade gold. You can easily understand that, people, are stupid enough to not appreciate the sublime state of mind that you can achieve and certainly they could achieve if they tried.
Unluckily your bag has been emptying itself at a fast and alarming rate. Luckily, for you, you have just stumbled into a piece of parchment, a note mentioning someone called Maron Goldtooth, a name that might ring a small bell, and a pile of gold. A pile of gold; just for a walk through the jungle? You can certainly do that, maybe you can even find something interesting to occupy your mind.
-So you want to get some laws going into Arcadia. – The dwarf smiles broadly, his white beard is really long and dusty, contrasting with his armor made of dark grey stones tied together. –Well for starters you are going to need gold.
There is some strange shine in the commander of the Wall defenders at the mention of the precious metal. He says the word with manifest respect; almost like a proud father. The mercenary ways aren’t alien to the dwarf they are strong and wise people, but have a gold fever that sometimes cannot be easily satiated. Luckily they also have a strong tradition of rules and oaths so they feel slightly uncomfortable at Arcadia.
-And you will need to deal with Goldtooth. – That name he pronounces with a bitter ting, the merchant is at the same time a patron and a ruler, but is human, and the old Dwarf cannot stand a human with more riches than a Dwarf. –Luckily for you there could be a way. Have you heard of the expedition?
Rosapia bows deeply to the raven. "I hear and obey, lords," she whispers in Draconic, glancing furtively about her to make sure she is alone. Arcadia, larger than a town but small for a city, looms all around her. "I will seek it in the city and its surroundings." It doesn't seem that anyone is watching, and a gnome speaking to animals could hardly be taken as unusual in most areas, but discretion has been drilled into her. She winces, involuntarily recalling her training. Mistakes had been painful, and even though she feels no pain now, at times it seems her body still remembers.
Reading the letter deeply, she commits its contents and precise wording to memory, then tears it up into small strips. Later she will find an unobtrusive place to burn it and scatter the ashes. Powerful magic might reconstitute it still, but that same training reminds her to never be lax in this regard. Even her response to the raven might not be strictly necessary - they could be watching, or not - but there are no risks there worth taking, no knowledge to be gained from defiance.
Effects on Rosa:
Command Undead - cast on herself. 6 days remaining.
Disguised as her living self - from disguise kit, with Wieldskill, check made at +16 (+10 competence +6 skill +2 circumstance -2 'different race')
Vlad wandered the streets fully armed. When he had first entered human lands he had abided by the customs and lodged himself in taverns, but that didn't last long. Vlad did not see the point in wasting coin on bed when the ground was perfectly fine. He'd been told it was for security of belongings, but Vlad felt plenty secure relying on the strength of his arm for protection.
In truth the Goliath was getting sick of the cowardice of this city, and of the soft races in general. He could stomach the dwarves he'd met for the most part, but by and large the other races operated on fear.
Vlad's stomach curls as he hears the elf's voice and her words force him to grit his teeth. The audacity of the elves is something that Vlad is familiar with, but not necessarily something he stomachs well. From the moment he hears the voice he draws his sword. Vlad learned at an early age not to trust sweet things. "I have not been called little in a long time and never by your kind. If you know my curse than you are either an ally or a corpse, Elf. Convince me I can trust you."
The raven nods on agreement and expands his wings before he takes fly. It doesn't take long till he disappears in the shadows of the streets it almost seems that he merged with the darkness and just stopped existing.
Not much after the Raven left you see a young man dressed in shiny and colorful clothes passing by. He is not too tall for a human nor well built, but he moves with some grace, like a professional trouper. He probably was quite close to you and the raven while you conversed. He might have heard something or he might not, either way he is moving away.
The elf gasps for a second, trying to not look as astonished as she clearly is. Maybe she was not really used to see Goliath around nor anyone react in that manner to her. For a moment she cowers hiding her face with her hands and taking a step back. Then she looks at the barbarian in the eye and smiles slightly.
-You can be scary. But trusting corpses is no good. Corpses can come back, and they don't get scared easily.
She searches in her pouch and takes a small ceramic container. Pressing a lid she reveals the interior, a rouge cream that smells of strawberries and cinnamon. She soaks one of her fingers in the creams and looks at the red material.
-Medicine. And Snack.
She puts the finger in her mouth and tastes it with delight.
With an effort of will, Rosapia does not frown. To frown would be to alert this man. Instead, she puts a pleasant half-smile on her face, and tries to figure out what she can about him while she casually follows.
"Ho there!" she cries to him in Common. "Forgive my forwardness, sir, but those are some fancy clothes you wear. Might you tell me a little bit about them?"
Bardic Knowledge check: (1d20+6)(22)
Bluff (1d20+7)(12) for the purposes of not alerting him that she's interested in figuring out if he saw her. She is actually a bit curious about the clothes, but of course the main thing is whether he saw/overheard her.
Sense Motive (1d20+10)(21) to see if he reacts like he saw her earlier.
Vlad's expression doesn't seem to change much as the stranger reacts. His scare tactic serves a dual purpose, allowing him to test the waters and gauge the elf's mentality. Vlad reasoned that if a person could be intimidated, it meant they feared death or pain, if the could not then they did not. It was much easier to deal with the latter, because he didn't need to treat them as an equal. "The dead may not fear, but they come apart easily enough. They are no threat to me." Vlad quietly studies the girl's medicine. "You've already gone out of your way to find me. Being cryptic is a waste of time."
Madoc smiled a slightly bemused smile. "Yes, heard of it. Anybody in the business of knowing things has. They say Goldtooth's gone and found himself a map to some temple in the jungle. They also say you'd have to be a damned fool to join the expedition. So just how right are they?"
ATTENTION ANYONE WHO I'M PLAYING WITH:
No news is good news.
I don't actually eat, and Nor isn't quite that somber about things.
There's actually something I never got around to writing up that effects Nor's reactions to things. Essentially, she cycles through each of the Six Thinking Hats to get a wider range of perception when making important decisions when I'm in the right state of mind to write that kind of internal thing up.
Nor reads over the note, her face expressionless. Well, it wasn't quite without expression, as without any mental commands her facial muscles slipped into a slight frown. Still, there wasn't any need for a facial expression without anyone to perceive it, so it really didn't matter. Closing her eyes to the world - or was she opening them to reality? - Nor summons a surge of light, heralding the arrival of the six distorted versions of herself she used to examine the world.
At some point, Nor had heard that some beings with powers in some ways similar to herself (perhaps these were other true creatures? Maybe she wasn't the only one in the strange quasi-reality that was everywhere...) had exaggerated a single aspect of themselves and solidified it as some sort of mobile crystal. Rather than doing this, Nor chose to cultivate her different methods of thought, separate them from one another and use them as a sort of council. At the very least, it was an enjoyable exercise and seeing the result always improved her mood.
Truth, Nor's thought created a ripple in the reality of her mind. Just as her thoughts created ripples in the other world, on the other side of the lids which hid it from her sight. Or were her eyes open now? Was the other place a mental construction? Perhaps she was still in the cave complex after all. No matter.
Our funds have been declining recently. At the current rate, we will not have enough currency to continue upkeep for an extended time while still having funds available for expenses of type A, the waves of thought Truth created were unique, just like all of the six aspects.
Reaction, a second shift in the world of Nor's perception. Sound wasn't present here. It wasn't necessary, she could communicate with the sub-minds via thought. That was all they were, after all. Thoughts. All contained within the shell of flesh now in an alley.
This is a good opportunity. We need gold and the jungle is interesting. We want to see just how far the world will stretch before it breaks, Reaction's reply was always a wave of color.
Potential Negative, Nor's command roused the normally slow to react sub-mind.
Oblivion. Loss of external manifestations via the actions of other dream-entities, Potential Negative's thoughts tended to be short. They didn't need to be longer.
Potential Positive, the 'opposite twin' of P. Negative. Always called up second.
The possible gain of a great amount of external manipulation capability in the form of currency. Maybe even a deeper understanding of the workings of the outer reality, P. Positive tended to add more detail than P. Negative. Odd quirks like this were part of the enjoyment of making sub-minds.
Potential Consequence, Nor ordered.
More expeditions! More work in the city? Maybe strange creatures in the jungle? Perhaps... as usual, P. Consequence's response trailed off into a partially real murmur of possibilities.
Metacognition, Nor called through her mind, instantly bringing the sub-thought interaction of the sub-minds to a halt. Meta was a dangerous being. Of all the sub-minds it was by far the most developed and, due to the odd workings of Nor's inner reality, could potentially grow into a rebellious creature intent on gaining control of all of the inner world. It was this potential that made Meta interesting. Similar, in part, to some of the other personality shards Nor had amplified in the past few months. Every possible situation was covered by now.
So many sub-minds clamber to appraise the situation, yet your decision if only influenced by a few. Of all of the fractures you have made, many beings connect across them and send to me this truth: end consensus is in favor. Personally, I'm looking forward to it. I want to feel this world come alive with power again. I've been enjoying the memories of the Crimson Thunder, Meta materialized, unlike any other sub-mind, without any specific order to. It was an androgynous version of her body, composed of brightly burning blue power. The casual reference to its ability to relive the past via other sub-minds was a calculated move, intended to remind the other assembled beings of its far greater power within their reality.
So the decision had been made.
Opening the eyes of her body. Nor turned towards the street. A man completed the step he had begun at the beginning of the process of decision making - a reminder than this reality moved so much more slowly than her inner one. Thinking about how easily influenced the world around her was, Nor stepped up onto the wall of the building to one side of her, walking up the twenty feet until she came up onto the rooftop. It was strange, how a mere twenty feet up there was something that almost seemed like another world. The streets appeared to be further away than they were, the noises of city life carrying far over the walls and into the sky, easily heard from such a high vantage point.
Choosing a location she remembered to be the place where similar expeditions had gathered, Nor began the trip across the top of the city.
Yeah, I'm just going to go to any meeting place mentioned on the note or a place that seems like it would be a likely one for people to prepare something like this.
The man stops for a moment on his tracks and looks at Rosapia, for a moment he seems surprised but he quickly regains his composure. He moves his arms and when he does it seems that the wind starts singing, there is music in him.
-Well you know I am a trouper, or was, well that doesn't matter. Troupers normally wear clothes like this, and I got used to it.
He moves with a studied dance pass looking at Rosapia showing her how the whole fabrics move and seem to sing while he dances.
-But I am bit busy you know? I suppose that if you are interested in troupers you could ask around maybe there is some company in Arcadia.
Your sense motive doesn't detect if he is lying or not
The elf rolls her eyes and puts her finger back into the red paste and this time she puts something on her face, drawing a red line from check to check passing over her nose just below the eyes. For an instant her face changes, it seems feral and untamed. Her eyes shine with a blue tint and her expression is much firmer than it was before, but it is swiftly gone with a sight.
-Little man is sick. Little man needs medicine. Me helps. In exchange little man helps himself.
She speaks slowly and pausing after each sentence, like Vlad is just a baby who is still struggling to speak. There doesn't seem to be malice in her voice, even if she keeps referring to the Goliath as little man.
-This medicine not potent enough, need ingredients. Jungle has ingredients. Little man helps himself, and me. Understand?
The elf looks at the Goliath to see if he can understand.
-Clearly anyone with half a brain would say that. You don't **** with the Jungle Madoc, you just don't. That's what most of Arcadia believes, and I am not going to prove them wrong look at me I am a dwarf.
He knocks his slate armor with his closed punch full of pride and fervor. His gaze for a second goes towards his weapons, the long dwarpike that rests against the wall and the sharpened buckler axe that is by the table.
-But people with half a brain don't go to the jungle. They get killed. And even my bearded blind mother knows that you have a brain almost as good as that of a dwarf. Getting a hold on Maron and part of his riches could greatly benefit your plan.
Actually I did know that Nor didn't need to eat, but I expected her to have material needs I'll try to keep that in mind
Nor arrived at the Goldtooth mansion, dully named as Dragon's Treasure by its owner and Beggars Doom by the peasants. The reason for the second name was standing by the front door. A tall man, taller than most men and broader than many, was standing guarding the entrance. His nose long and sharp as a saver was pointed to the sky like a bird of prey stalking possible victims. Most of his expression was lost bathed by the sun, but when he smelled Nor he turned his head. Even if big he was human, perhaps he had had giants as distant ancestors or had just exercised a bit too much during his youth. He was Assend Sharp assistant of Maron Goldtooth and his guardian. Rumors stand that he was an assassin and stabbed people to death with his nose,
Whether he was an assassin or not is at the moment irrelevant. He approaches Nor with sure pace showing off his well cut clothes that he wears.
Vlad sighs, resting the blade of his gargantuan sword in his other hand. He had not mistaken the elf's broken speech as a stylistic choice. Now that he heard her explain a complex concept he could recognize it as the speech of an outsider attempting a secondary language. How long had it taken himself to adapt to the common speech of the high cities? "I hear your words. You think you can cure me and you want to make a deal. Fine. Tell me what you want in this jungle. Are the ingredients themselves the goal or something else?"
Last edited by casualcryptic : 06-15-2012 at 05:37 PM.
"Yeah, ain't that the truth." Madoc considered his options. On the one hand, he'd have to be stupid to risk his hide on the jungle. It was suicide. On the other hand, if he made it back, he'd have an in with the most influential man in Arcadia. "You wouldn't happen to have any info on others who might be signing up for Maron's expedition, would you?"
ATTENTION ANYONE WHO I'M PLAYING WITH:
No news is good news.
-Little man needs no knife. Knife not useful. Knife not part of little man.
She opens her pouch again taking an old piece of parchment it has several drawings on it. Most of them seem plants and flowers. There are some notes in Elvish but her writing is so thin that it is almost impossible to read. She signals one of the flowers, it looks like a lily with some tints of yellowish pigment on it.
-Yellow flowers dangerous for the mind but necessary.
She then goes for her neck and shows the Goliath a tiny amulet it seems to be made of bone and inscribed with elvish runes.
-Dragon bone good for the soul.
And then she taps at the Goliath like she is tapping just a child.
-Big beasts blood good for the body. Can little man hunt?
As you are to start on your quest you hear a mumbling sound at your back. A small man, corked like a crone walks toward you amazingly fast for his oldness. You instantly recognize him, he is Talky, one of the worst examples of a jungle survivor. Most of his lower jaw is gone, replaced with claw scars but that it is not the most scary part, he also lost his sanity.
He is dressed in drags and carries a big branch using it as a walking stick and his crazy eyes are fixed upon you. Once he reaches you he boos you.
The dwarf scratches his head and looks over the window like he is a bit troubled to answer that question.
-Well... I know he is serious, he tried to get me on the jungle. But human gold is not enough to get me surrounded by trees. And I have a contract to protect the city. But he ain't probably taking anyone stepping through his door.
Then sighs and looks at Madoc once again.
-He hasn't shown the map to anyone, can't blame him for that. If I had an old map to a forgotten treasure I won't be showing it around more than necessary, don't want to give ideas.
Nor shifts reality with a thought, curving her lips into a slight smile as the man approached her. Had he been looking at a different angle, he might have seen her walk down the wall of one of the smaller buildings. Well, maybe it was better this way. Sometimes the ease with which she modified the outer reality seemed to cause negative reactions in its residents. Perhaps they feared that she would use her control of their world against them.
"I'm here because I heard of an expedition and was interested in taking part," Nor says, using her body to change the sounds of the outer reality rather than doing so directly with her mind. It wasn't especially difficult, but it felt like she was only indirectly working the world. When compared to the ways Nor could force reality to change immediately it was a roundabout method of getting the job done. It took far less mental effort, however. Perhaps it was because her mind had a stronger connection to her body than it did to the rest of reality. "Is this the right place for me to be?" Nor asks, shifting her body to one side as she looks up at the sharp-nosed man.
Ripley nervously grimaces, as he always does when he sees Talky. "What do you want Talky, I can't do anything right now." He glances around, before pulling a gold piece from his bag and tossing it to the mad cripple. "There, do you want some coin? Now, I really must be off." Ripley tries to continue onward to Maron Goldtooth, trying not to think about how he could end up like Talky.
The man looks at you and turns back before saying a word.
He starts walking towards the mansion and opens the door to reveal a long corridor. It is decorated with luxury. A soft red carpet covers the floor and the walls are full of paintings, not portraits like many nobles use to fancy but landscapes, everyone of them is signed by Maron and has a date. There are also several chandeliers that hold candles yet to be lit, even if they seem old and they certainly see use there is no stain of wax at any point. The roof is decorated with a sky scenery pale blues and soft whites represent the firmament and clouds.
He leads the way to another door, a simple oak door with a golden handler, that opens to a big circular room. The room is decorated with the same taste that the corridor, having a thick and rich carpet over the wooden floor and some other paintings on the walls. There are several bookshelves that look cramped with books and mementos. Many are marked with letters or numbers, or a combination of both, but any organization seems to escape you at the moment. A double door awaits at the end of the room and some sound comes muffled from it.
There are four people in the room, a big muscled man who wears nothing but a kilt that waits sitting on a chair while caressing his blonde beard. A young woman who is dressed in robes and walks from bookshelf to bookshelf. A gnome sitting on his own backpack, that is probably bigger than himself, and reading a book. And an old knight donned in full armor waiting by the double door with his eyes closed, probably sleeping.
-Wait here until you are summoned. -Says the long nosed man.
Talky seems angry and throws your coin to the ground before trying to spite and failing due to his condition. It is then than a gnome also dressed in drags an wearing a suspicious eye patch over his left eye comes to the old man and grabs him. Talky is clearly disgusted by the interference and raises his stick trying to reach you, but since the gnome keeps him pinned he resigns to wave it at the air furiously.
The gnome whispers something on the man ear but to no avail, he looks at you clearly concerned while Talky mumbles something intelligible at him. After a moment the gnome opens his mouth.
-Aint'cha Flamebrand lad? 'hoy cha, ma boy, Ol' Talky means a wor'. Don't cha go to the dragon, donno kil' it. Bad karma, bad, donno kil' da Gods.
Vlad is relatively unmoved by the remark that his "knife" isn't apart of himself though he does place it back on his backstrap. "I'll keep hold of it just the same." He listens to each of the elf's explanations and nods. "I can chase and I can kill. Dragons and beasts should be easy enough to mark but the flower may be difficult. You should hand me that one so that I'll have something to compare the plants of the forest with. So what am I hunting?"
Ripley looks at the two men, and runs through all the possibilities in his head. Either he stays here in Arcadia, where he's safe, but will always feel ill at ease because he didn't try to follow his history, or he goes into the jungle, and has a chance to find out who he really is. It will be dangerous, but he knows that this is what he must do.
"I'm sorry, but I... I have to do this." Ripley continues onward, trying not to look back.
"Yeah, we all know you dwarves' opinions on tree." Madoc chuckled slightly. "Thank you for your help, friend. I'll certainly keep in contact with the Wall defenders, just in case anything I find could be of assistance." Madoc stood, and headed for the door. Just before leaving, he stopped, and turned. "Actually, I do have one last question. What's the fastest way to get to where I should meet to seek employment in this expedition?"
ATTENTION ANYONE WHO I'M PLAYING WITH:
No news is good news.
Rosapia grins, and suddenly favors the man with an elaborate bow. "Really, I was curious about where I might get some of that fabric for myself. I won't take up any more of your time. Thank you, and safe travels."
Privately, she checks quickly for the presence of evil in the man's immediate area before turning away. It won't be of any use to her to know if he's evil, really, but it doesn't hurt to have more information in case she runs across him again. She probably can't delay him longer now that he's said he needs to go, and since she approached him directly, physically following him is a bad idea. Well, it seemed good at the time. If she has a day off soon she might try a divination, but her words to the bird were nondescript enough to be attributable to any number of organizations . . . weren't they?
Bluff (1d20+7)(21) to not be noticed checking him out. The bow is an attempt to buy a few more seconds to concentrate.
The elf looks at Vlad with a sad expression in her face. She reaches again into the pouch and takes a dry fruit, it has a blueish color, almost purple and she looks at it before taking a bite, by her expression the fruit is sour but clearly edible.
-Little man has little memory, that's no good. Here. Good for memory.
She handles the fruit to Vlad.
-Little man needs to hunt big beast. Big beast on the jungle. With horns and thorns. Spiky. Little man knows big beast?
The muffled shouts of Talky reach you ears while you leave. He is still hold by the gnome who keeps his attention on the old man. You are free to go, getting to the Goldtooth mansion should not be hard.
The dwarf leaves his desk and gets to the window pointing a tall building that rises to the sky, almost looking like a tower.
-Can you see the temple? Second street to the right from the square in front of it, you won't miss it, Goldtooth has a expensive house.
He approaches you and offers you his hand with a big grin on his face.
-Good luck, and if you find some good stone on that temple let me know, we can always use good stone at the wall.
He has a moderate aura of evil, but he doesn't seem evil. He bows slightly when you do, almost instantly, he seems used to do that.
-Don't think that you can get this here, it was sewn in Karas many miles from here. Well as I said, I am in a hurry.
He then leaves and walks pretty fast not bothering to look back.
Vlad grabs the fruit with one hand as it is tossed to him. He pockets it for now while he considers the question. "I know plenty of beasts with horns. I killed a Minotaur once. I've seen a few beasts with spikes as well. I'm not sure I've ever fought one with both. Can't be too hard to find I imagine, but feel free to tell me as much as you like."
Ripley arrives to the Goldtooth mansion, over the front door a signal marks it as Dragon Nest. He can walk through the front garden, the gate is open but once at the main door he finds it closed, a further inspection would reveal that it is not locked, and at the moment unattended.
The elf sighs like Vlad did something really stupid, she looks frustrated almost angry.
-Fruit no good for memory if not eaten, little man will forget fruit.
Then when she hears that the little man killed a minotaur she seems intrigued an curious.
-Little man isn't lying? Little man killed a minotaur? Maybe knife killed minotaur, little man is kidding, isn't he?
The last words seem to be directed to the sword at the back of the Goliath, nor to Vlad directly.
Vlad sighs. "For someone who knows so much about Vlad's curse, you know very little about Vlad. I do not joke. If my blade kills a creature I claim the kill. It is an extension of my arm. It's actions are my actions, and no other man may wield it." Vlad glances to the pouch he shoved his fruit in. "Fine." He pulls the strange fruit out and takes a large bite, devouring it almost without chewing. "Then I think we are done for now. I will return. I imagine you will find me when I do?"
Last edited by casualcryptic : 06-17-2012 at 01:02 PM.
The elf shrugs herself and almost utters a curse, something on the line of a sword killing something isn't the same as someone killing something.
-You can find, me it is easy. Eilis is known, everyone knows that little man Vlad.
Rosa mentally shrugs. The bard might or might not have overheard. He might really have something to do, or he could be leaving to report this to any number of organizations - the city's lords, the thieves' guild, or even the renegades she sought. But if he really was some kind of agent, he was good enough to spy on her, lie to her, and give a cover story all without her being able to tell. Or, it could all be coincidence. Either way, nothing would be gained from pursuit at this time.
After pausing to think for a moment, she heads off in the direction of a tavern. Time to seek information.
It doesn't take long till the door opens, a fully armored woman steps through the door. Her expression is hard to tell, since her face seems unnaturally covered with shadows but you can clearly see that she is not smiling, in fact her skin is terse and pale. When she passes by you you can see clearly that what at first appeared as metal or a ceramic decoration is in fact bone, her armor, or most of it, is made of old dragon bone.
She flashes through the waiting room leaving fast without looking back at all. Once she is left a man appears from the studio. This must be Maron Goldtooth, he walks like owns the place smoking a cigar with pleasure. He is a man still not feeling the weight of aging on his shoulders and looks at the room with a smirk. After looking at everyone he signals to the big barbarian and lets him into the studio.
As they get into the office the woman in robes approaches Nor and tries to start a conversation.
-Uhm... hello I am Aivlis. I was wondering if you had some parchment.
A long nosed man steps through the door at Ripley's first knock. He is Assend Sharp, Goldtooth's assistant and guardian.
-What buisness do you have here?
As he is speaking an armored woman leaves the mannor. Her face is hidden under a cloak that seems covered in shadows but Ripley can clearly see that her armor is made of bone and her white locks of hair falling over it.
-Good day, Ms Longshadow. - The buttler says as the woman leaves but she doesn't pay him any attention, in fact after waiting for a couple of minutes another man, dressed in colorfoul clothes arrives and the start to talk while they leave.
Sharp looks back at Ripley waiting for an answer.
Eilis looks at Vlad raising an eyebrow in surprise. And then nods.
-Little man didn't know?
She looks almost sad. She hugs the Goliath and pats him on the shoulder, or at least as up as she can reach.
-Poor little man, little man's memory worse than Eilis thought. Little man should hurry.
Luckily for Rosa there is a tavern nearby. The "Broken Tree" easily recognizable due to being completely built with stone and having not one but two doors. One of the doors is of normal human height but the other one is clearly built for either children or short people. Inside the tavern several men and dwarf drink loads of dwarf bear. Once inside a dwarf wartress approaches you carrying a couple of mugs and a huge smile.