RPG
Introduction
"It has been a long, arduous struggle.. many lives have been lost, and many more hang in the balance. We have traveled far, and fought hard for everything we have accomplished. We have given ourselves fully and wholly to this quest. This final quest.. knowing that we would never return. Knowing that there is no way out of the Darkness."
"I suppose it's only right to start at the beginning."
The world was once a peaceful place, as places go. There was war, and there was famine, but all these things passed, eventually. Things always got better, and each struggle made us stronger. The people of Alva were happy. Content. Food was abundant, for the most part, and our rulers were just, and fair. They fought for their people, and the people fought for them, in return. It was not, as some people might call it, the Dark Ages, but an age of simplicity. Magic was still prevalent, its many wonders and nuances filling our hearts with wonderment, and the many races of the world kept to themselves, content to find their own little niche in life.
To the humans, their castles, where walls of stone protected them from the elements and from any who would do them harm. To the elves, the forests, where they could remain secluded and secretive. To the dwarves, the mountains, where they were free to mine precious gems and ores until their long lives ended, and to the goblins, the valley, where their encampments went unnoticed; where they could hunt without encroaching upon the forests or the castles. An uneasy truce bound them together, by keeping them apart. Such had been the case for close to one hundred years.
Fate, however, would soon have them fighting for their very exsistance.
On a day much like any other, without any significance of any kind, and without warning, a strange disruption would occur high above one of Alva's many valleys. Lightning would split the sky, dark in hue, and malevolent, in nature. The goblins of the area came spilling out into the fields, shouting wildly to the humans, who quickly took heed to inform their king of what was happening. Immediately, several soldiers were sent, to ascertain what was going on. Within the valley, where the goblins' village had once stood, was a massive sphere of Darkness. It's surface was akin to glass, and it swirled beneath the surface, like water. The area had been wiped clean of life, even the grass beneath their feet turning to death and decay. Alarmed, the soldiers immediately returned to the king, who then dispatched the kingdom's most powerful mages. What transpired was nothing short of a massacre.
Strange beings began to pour from the sphere, attacking the magi and their guards. The battle, if one could deign to call it that, was short, and led to the deaths of many brave men and women. Beset by the creatures, the survivors returned to the castle to bring news to their king.
The invasion of Darkness had begun.
One after another, the kingdoms of men fell. Darkness swept over the land like a wind, killing all in its path without mercy. The goblins and elves were not spared. The valleys were razed, the forests burned, and death continued to warp the lands. Dwarven mines were flooded with the creatures, turning their coveted halls into tombs. Mages, soldiers, warriors, hunters and even farmhands resisted, and several small victories were won, but at heavy costs. Meanwhile, beings of Darkness continued to come forth from the portal, quickly replacing those lost, and then some. Just when all hope seemed lost, a reclusive order stepped forth, wielding the power of the holy Light, to stand against Darkness as arbiters of Righteousness. They called themselves the Lightwielders, and served to bolster the waning hopes of Alva. Quickly, battles began to turn more in favor of Alviens, as more and more Lightwielders took up the charge. With their combined might, bastions of civilization began to take, and Darkness was held at bay. Complete victory, however, would be nigh impossible, with the portal to the realm of Darkness intact.
And so it was decided that a small group of Lightwielders, headed by Galdring, one of the greatest of their order, made a break for the portal, in order to seal it, and prevent Darkness from enveloping the world. Theirs was a journey of hardship and strife. Through this quest, it was first discovered that the goblins were being captured and gathered together. There, their bodies were subjected to Darkness, and taken to create several, more powerful minions. This was the first documented instance of possession by Darkness. It was not to be the last.
The Lightwielders carried on purposefully, and finally encroached upon the Dark portal, which was now massive, in size. To this day, none can be certain what transpired in these last hours, for the script, who had been one of the Lightwielders, was never able to tell their tale.. from what can be pieced together, it is believed that the group fought viciously at the Dark Portal, beating back Darkness as it came forth from all directions, in order to get to the portal. In the end, it would have been only Galdring left to finish what had been started. The portal had grown too massive, and too powerful to stop. So, using the last of his strength, Galdring shattered his own soul, as he had been depicted as saying, in the scriptures, and, using the fragments, placed a seal around the Dark Portal, so that Darkness could not completely consume all of Alva. Making the ultimate sacrifice, Galdring purchased for the world another dawn.. with his life.
Galdring’s body, now a broken shell of his former self, was quickly beset by Darkness. Unable to muster the strength to break free from its grasp, Galdring succumbed to the shadow, his remaining soul suppressed and extinguished, allowing Darkness a vessel with which to seal Alva’s fate.
A month had passed since Galdring had departed from Redwall, one of the last remaining human kingdoms. Now, as Darkness approached whilst cloaked in Galdring’s body, the people readily allowed it passage, singing Galdring’s praises for sealing the Dark Portal, all the while. However, no sooner did he cross the threshold did the Lightwielders realize their mistake. Using the Lightwielder’s body, Darkness then spoke to the people of Alva, for the first time. Naming itself Gansend, Darkness claimed lordship over all of Alva. It beckoned to the people to surrender themselves to Darkness’s rule, lest they be consumed. Almost immediately, the Lightwielders threw themselves at Gansend, hoping to smite the Darkness while it possessed this mortal form, in an attempt to end Darkness’s presence, here. With Galdring’s might, coupled with the power of Darkness, Gansend cast them down, one after another, until none could stand against him. Realizing the futility in resisting, the remaining Lightwielders turned to the peoples of Alva and ordered the surrender to Gansend. They begged the people to heed Gansend’s orders, so that they could live.. Live, to fight another day. As a collective, the Lightwielders split apart and scattered to the corners of the world, hiding their secrets and their powers, in hopes to, one day, return to free the people of Alva from Darkness’s clutches.
Gansend wasted no time in gathering up the people of Alva. As promised, they were spared from the fiends’ wrath, if only for the time being. Life would go on, albeit a shadow of their lives, before. Small pockets of rebellion would form, though none would ever dare to oppose Gansend, openly. Levies were high, and Gansend sent the people to work in the fields, and in the forests, gathering resources for an unknown purpose. No race would be spared. The elves would be forced to cut down their forests. The dwarves would toil away in their mines, only to surrender all riches they uncovered. The goblins would work with the humans in the fields, growing only enough crops to keep the people of Alva alive. This would continue for forty years. Entire generations would be born and raised under Gansend’s rule, and despair would fill the land as it became more and more unlikely that the Lightwielders would ever return..
Present day..
Gansend’s rule has persisted for close to forty years. The people of Alva have all but given up hope on ever being free from his tyranny. For the past few years, people have begun disappearing from their homes, and new horrors were beginning to take to the streets; guards and fiends with incredible power, including five creatures that have been named Gansend’s five Lords of Darkness. They each preside over an individual nation, each with their own regulations.
Lord Hagadra, of Tirisfeld
Lady Gynesa, of Jerok
Lord Demensiel, of Efenul
Lord Zuul, of Baraq
Lord Fodrn, of Syneslet
With Gansend, in Redway, the six Lords of Darkness keep the people of Alva in check, and in fear. Few know what their plans are, and none who do are ever able to speak of them, but it could be assumed that said plans are close to coming to fruition, hence the five’s hasty actions. Unknown to Gansend, however, is that there is a growing presence of rebellion. A younger generation has taken up the mantle of those who came before, organizing and plotting to overthrow Gansend. Without aid.. this generation, too, is doomed to failure. The world needs a new band of heroes, to replace the Lightwielders as Alva’s best hope for salvation. The time for waiting is over, and the time to act is now.
"I knew it well. I had always known that I would have to stand alongside the next generation to take on the Darkness. But, if you had told me that those six men and women to come into my Blacksmith would be the ones to do it.. I would have told you that you were mad. In fact, I do believe those were my exact words.. Anyway, I still remember it like it was yesterday.."
"I suppose it's only right to start at the beginning."
The world was once a peaceful place, as places go. There was war, and there was famine, but all these things passed, eventually. Things always got better, and each struggle made us stronger. The people of Alva were happy. Content. Food was abundant, for the most part, and our rulers were just, and fair. They fought for their people, and the people fought for them, in return. It was not, as some people might call it, the Dark Ages, but an age of simplicity. Magic was still prevalent, its many wonders and nuances filling our hearts with wonderment, and the many races of the world kept to themselves, content to find their own little niche in life.
To the humans, their castles, where walls of stone protected them from the elements and from any who would do them harm. To the elves, the forests, where they could remain secluded and secretive. To the dwarves, the mountains, where they were free to mine precious gems and ores until their long lives ended, and to the goblins, the valley, where their encampments went unnoticed; where they could hunt without encroaching upon the forests or the castles. An uneasy truce bound them together, by keeping them apart. Such had been the case for close to one hundred years.
Fate, however, would soon have them fighting for their very exsistance.
On a day much like any other, without any significance of any kind, and without warning, a strange disruption would occur high above one of Alva's many valleys. Lightning would split the sky, dark in hue, and malevolent, in nature. The goblins of the area came spilling out into the fields, shouting wildly to the humans, who quickly took heed to inform their king of what was happening. Immediately, several soldiers were sent, to ascertain what was going on. Within the valley, where the goblins' village had once stood, was a massive sphere of Darkness. It's surface was akin to glass, and it swirled beneath the surface, like water. The area had been wiped clean of life, even the grass beneath their feet turning to death and decay. Alarmed, the soldiers immediately returned to the king, who then dispatched the kingdom's most powerful mages. What transpired was nothing short of a massacre.
Strange beings began to pour from the sphere, attacking the magi and their guards. The battle, if one could deign to call it that, was short, and led to the deaths of many brave men and women. Beset by the creatures, the survivors returned to the castle to bring news to their king.
The invasion of Darkness had begun.
One after another, the kingdoms of men fell. Darkness swept over the land like a wind, killing all in its path without mercy. The goblins and elves were not spared. The valleys were razed, the forests burned, and death continued to warp the lands. Dwarven mines were flooded with the creatures, turning their coveted halls into tombs. Mages, soldiers, warriors, hunters and even farmhands resisted, and several small victories were won, but at heavy costs. Meanwhile, beings of Darkness continued to come forth from the portal, quickly replacing those lost, and then some. Just when all hope seemed lost, a reclusive order stepped forth, wielding the power of the holy Light, to stand against Darkness as arbiters of Righteousness. They called themselves the Lightwielders, and served to bolster the waning hopes of Alva. Quickly, battles began to turn more in favor of Alviens, as more and more Lightwielders took up the charge. With their combined might, bastions of civilization began to take, and Darkness was held at bay. Complete victory, however, would be nigh impossible, with the portal to the realm of Darkness intact.
And so it was decided that a small group of Lightwielders, headed by Galdring, one of the greatest of their order, made a break for the portal, in order to seal it, and prevent Darkness from enveloping the world. Theirs was a journey of hardship and strife. Through this quest, it was first discovered that the goblins were being captured and gathered together. There, their bodies were subjected to Darkness, and taken to create several, more powerful minions. This was the first documented instance of possession by Darkness. It was not to be the last.
The Lightwielders carried on purposefully, and finally encroached upon the Dark portal, which was now massive, in size. To this day, none can be certain what transpired in these last hours, for the script, who had been one of the Lightwielders, was never able to tell their tale.. from what can be pieced together, it is believed that the group fought viciously at the Dark Portal, beating back Darkness as it came forth from all directions, in order to get to the portal. In the end, it would have been only Galdring left to finish what had been started. The portal had grown too massive, and too powerful to stop. So, using the last of his strength, Galdring shattered his own soul, as he had been depicted as saying, in the scriptures, and, using the fragments, placed a seal around the Dark Portal, so that Darkness could not completely consume all of Alva. Making the ultimate sacrifice, Galdring purchased for the world another dawn.. with his life.
Galdring’s body, now a broken shell of his former self, was quickly beset by Darkness. Unable to muster the strength to break free from its grasp, Galdring succumbed to the shadow, his remaining soul suppressed and extinguished, allowing Darkness a vessel with which to seal Alva’s fate.
A month had passed since Galdring had departed from Redwall, one of the last remaining human kingdoms. Now, as Darkness approached whilst cloaked in Galdring’s body, the people readily allowed it passage, singing Galdring’s praises for sealing the Dark Portal, all the while. However, no sooner did he cross the threshold did the Lightwielders realize their mistake. Using the Lightwielder’s body, Darkness then spoke to the people of Alva, for the first time. Naming itself Gansend, Darkness claimed lordship over all of Alva. It beckoned to the people to surrender themselves to Darkness’s rule, lest they be consumed. Almost immediately, the Lightwielders threw themselves at Gansend, hoping to smite the Darkness while it possessed this mortal form, in an attempt to end Darkness’s presence, here. With Galdring’s might, coupled with the power of Darkness, Gansend cast them down, one after another, until none could stand against him. Realizing the futility in resisting, the remaining Lightwielders turned to the peoples of Alva and ordered the surrender to Gansend. They begged the people to heed Gansend’s orders, so that they could live.. Live, to fight another day. As a collective, the Lightwielders split apart and scattered to the corners of the world, hiding their secrets and their powers, in hopes to, one day, return to free the people of Alva from Darkness’s clutches.
Gansend wasted no time in gathering up the people of Alva. As promised, they were spared from the fiends’ wrath, if only for the time being. Life would go on, albeit a shadow of their lives, before. Small pockets of rebellion would form, though none would ever dare to oppose Gansend, openly. Levies were high, and Gansend sent the people to work in the fields, and in the forests, gathering resources for an unknown purpose. No race would be spared. The elves would be forced to cut down their forests. The dwarves would toil away in their mines, only to surrender all riches they uncovered. The goblins would work with the humans in the fields, growing only enough crops to keep the people of Alva alive. This would continue for forty years. Entire generations would be born and raised under Gansend’s rule, and despair would fill the land as it became more and more unlikely that the Lightwielders would ever return..
Present day..
Gansend’s rule has persisted for close to forty years. The people of Alva have all but given up hope on ever being free from his tyranny. For the past few years, people have begun disappearing from their homes, and new horrors were beginning to take to the streets; guards and fiends with incredible power, including five creatures that have been named Gansend’s five Lords of Darkness. They each preside over an individual nation, each with their own regulations.
Lord Hagadra, of Tirisfeld
Lady Gynesa, of Jerok
Lord Demensiel, of Efenul
Lord Zuul, of Baraq
Lord Fodrn, of Syneslet
With Gansend, in Redway, the six Lords of Darkness keep the people of Alva in check, and in fear. Few know what their plans are, and none who do are ever able to speak of them, but it could be assumed that said plans are close to coming to fruition, hence the five’s hasty actions. Unknown to Gansend, however, is that there is a growing presence of rebellion. A younger generation has taken up the mantle of those who came before, organizing and plotting to overthrow Gansend. Without aid.. this generation, too, is doomed to failure. The world needs a new band of heroes, to replace the Lightwielders as Alva’s best hope for salvation. The time for waiting is over, and the time to act is now.
"I knew it well. I had always known that I would have to stand alongside the next generation to take on the Darkness. But, if you had told me that those six men and women to come into my Blacksmith would be the ones to do it.. I would have told you that you were mad. In fact, I do believe those were my exact words.. Anyway, I still remember it like it was yesterday.."
Rules
The rules of roleplay are a universal guideline that everyone who's had experience with roleplay should know. As such, I won't be posting them, here.
RULES FOR CHARACTERS
1. The setting is midieval times. Therefore, there aren't any cyborgs, super soldiers, androids, mech suits, firearms(limited to a crossbow, at best), or any other such technologies. Mercenaries are allowed, as are assassins.
2. NO VAMPIRES. It has come to my attention that there seems to be a slew of vampire and vampire-like characters here on RPG. As such, I require some individualism to be used in this roleplay. To be fair, there will also be no werewolves, half-dragon hybrids, or anything similar.
3. NO MYTHICAL CREATURES. There are no nordic gods, no greek gods or demigods. There are also no archangels or other celestial embodiments.
4. You are allowed to have ONE main character, and up to two supporting characters. A knight, and two squires, a hunter and a pet, a soldier and an apprentice, etc. If your main character has powers, your supporting character must be considerably weaker, or unpowered. You CANNOT have two main characters under ANY circumstances. No, not even twins. No, not even if they are both considerably weak, and only become strong when together.
RULES OF ENGAGEMENT
Once again, most people should know how to conduct themselves in RP, including RP fights/duels. I will not be including rules on how to handle fights, except that you are allowed only one attack per movement. Combos are allowed, assuming they don't require the first attack to be successful.
Example: "I attempt to throw X into the air. If that is successful, I will attempt to jump up and kick them back to the ground." This is not allowed.
"I fire an arrow at X's head, and a second at his chest." OR "I throw a right hook at X's jaw, and a left jab at his sternum." These examples are proper combos. Very few exceptions exist.
IF YOU HAVE CHOSEN TO HAVE TWO CHARACTERS AT ONCE, COMBINATION ATTACKS ARE PERMITTED, WITHIN REASON.
You may have both characters attack at once, or have two characters attack, one after another, or have one up close for melee, while another uses ranged attacks. THIS COUNTS AS A COMBO, AND MUST FOLLOW THE RULES ON COMBOS. You cannot have both characters launch a combo at once, in order to hit more than twice in rapid succession.
THIS IS A HIGH-STAKES ROLEPLAY.
What I mean by that is actually very simple. If you choose to engage people or NPC's at random, and they put your character in a corner for a killing blow, you will die. If you are not willing to run the risk of your character dieing, do not have them behave rashly. All characters will come under attack, and will be required to defend themselves, at one point or another. If they die, they are dead, and must wait to be revived, if such a thing is possible. You CANNOT revive yourself. No having spiritual experiences and putting your soul back into your body. In some cases, your character may be beyond saving. In such cases, they are dead, and cannot return. Sadly, this means that you will no longer be able to roleplay with them. You CAN, however, submit another character to replace them. A vengeful sibling, perhaps a son or daughter, best friend, etc. If your character had supporting characters, they can carry on, but cannot grow, in strength, simply because your main character isn't there anymore. Any weaknesses they had coming in must remain, but they are allowed to grow stronger by degrees as the story progresses.
PLEASE READ: VERY IMPORTANT
Everything that each character does will have a direct impact on the going's on of Alva. Everything your character says, does, and the way that they do it could, and eventually will, decide their fate, as well as the fate of the world. If your character(s) continuously behave rashly, drawing attention to the party and to their activities, the consequences could be more dire than they know. I plan on having this roleplay be vastly different from other in that this quest can fail, leaving the world of Alva, along with it's citizens, to be plunged into eternal Darkness. Everything is up to you, and your characters. No pressure..
RACES
The races permitted are as follows.
-Humans
-Elves
-Dwarves
-Goblins
*HYBRIDS
-Human/Elf
-Human/Dwarf
-Elf/Dwarf(Highly unlikely, but possible)
-Goblin/Dwarf(Even MORE unlikely, remotely possible. I will be hard-pressed to approve these characters)
Any other hybrids will have to have a DAMN good reason for being.
I am willing to give liberties to how you play these races, so long as you use common sence. Dwarves can't be six foot five, humans can't sing to trees, etc. I am willing to accept races who behave abnormally from the others, so long as there is a halfway decent reason for them doing so.
POWERS: VERY IMPORTANT
Powers are very much allowed and encouraged. But there must be limits. I will bring a character in who is powered, but I want this roleplay to be more about a band of heroes working together, not a band of tag-alongs who follow around a character who one-shots everything. If your character is a mage, or an elemantalist, they can obviously use a variety of spells to put them at an advantage. The only reason they have such spells is to compensate for a lack of physical attributes. This is their weakness, and is universal for mages of many different universes.
The point is: Every race/class has its disadvantages. Your character should be no different. There is also nothing stopping you from making someone without any powers, except maybe faster reflexes.
If you have any questions about any of the rules stated above, you may PM me at any time. Also, if you feel something ought to be mentioned that I have not included, here, feel free to tell me, and I may add it. If you feel that someone is breaking one or more of these rules, and I have missed it, PM me the exact post and what rules they are in violation of. In some cases, it may be easier to simply inform the person, instead, and allow they to correct the mistake. Rules are subject to change without warning, but I will warn you after the fact, if it is a major rule change.
RULES FOR CHARACTERS
1. The setting is midieval times. Therefore, there aren't any cyborgs, super soldiers, androids, mech suits, firearms(limited to a crossbow, at best), or any other such technologies. Mercenaries are allowed, as are assassins.
2. NO VAMPIRES. It has come to my attention that there seems to be a slew of vampire and vampire-like characters here on RPG. As such, I require some individualism to be used in this roleplay. To be fair, there will also be no werewolves, half-dragon hybrids, or anything similar.
3. NO MYTHICAL CREATURES. There are no nordic gods, no greek gods or demigods. There are also no archangels or other celestial embodiments.
4. You are allowed to have ONE main character, and up to two supporting characters. A knight, and two squires, a hunter and a pet, a soldier and an apprentice, etc. If your main character has powers, your supporting character must be considerably weaker, or unpowered. You CANNOT have two main characters under ANY circumstances. No, not even twins. No, not even if they are both considerably weak, and only become strong when together.
RULES OF ENGAGEMENT
Once again, most people should know how to conduct themselves in RP, including RP fights/duels. I will not be including rules on how to handle fights, except that you are allowed only one attack per movement. Combos are allowed, assuming they don't require the first attack to be successful.
Example: "I attempt to throw X into the air. If that is successful, I will attempt to jump up and kick them back to the ground." This is not allowed.
"I fire an arrow at X's head, and a second at his chest." OR "I throw a right hook at X's jaw, and a left jab at his sternum." These examples are proper combos. Very few exceptions exist.
IF YOU HAVE CHOSEN TO HAVE TWO CHARACTERS AT ONCE, COMBINATION ATTACKS ARE PERMITTED, WITHIN REASON.
You may have both characters attack at once, or have two characters attack, one after another, or have one up close for melee, while another uses ranged attacks. THIS COUNTS AS A COMBO, AND MUST FOLLOW THE RULES ON COMBOS. You cannot have both characters launch a combo at once, in order to hit more than twice in rapid succession.
THIS IS A HIGH-STAKES ROLEPLAY.
What I mean by that is actually very simple. If you choose to engage people or NPC's at random, and they put your character in a corner for a killing blow, you will die. If you are not willing to run the risk of your character dieing, do not have them behave rashly. All characters will come under attack, and will be required to defend themselves, at one point or another. If they die, they are dead, and must wait to be revived, if such a thing is possible. You CANNOT revive yourself. No having spiritual experiences and putting your soul back into your body. In some cases, your character may be beyond saving. In such cases, they are dead, and cannot return. Sadly, this means that you will no longer be able to roleplay with them. You CAN, however, submit another character to replace them. A vengeful sibling, perhaps a son or daughter, best friend, etc. If your character had supporting characters, they can carry on, but cannot grow, in strength, simply because your main character isn't there anymore. Any weaknesses they had coming in must remain, but they are allowed to grow stronger by degrees as the story progresses.
PLEASE READ: VERY IMPORTANT
Everything that each character does will have a direct impact on the going's on of Alva. Everything your character says, does, and the way that they do it could, and eventually will, decide their fate, as well as the fate of the world. If your character(s) continuously behave rashly, drawing attention to the party and to their activities, the consequences could be more dire than they know. I plan on having this roleplay be vastly different from other in that this quest can fail, leaving the world of Alva, along with it's citizens, to be plunged into eternal Darkness. Everything is up to you, and your characters. No pressure..
RACES
The races permitted are as follows.
-Humans
-Elves
-Dwarves
-Goblins
*HYBRIDS
-Human/Elf
-Human/Dwarf
-Elf/Dwarf(Highly unlikely, but possible)
-Goblin/Dwarf(Even MORE unlikely, remotely possible. I will be hard-pressed to approve these characters)
Any other hybrids will have to have a DAMN good reason for being.
I am willing to give liberties to how you play these races, so long as you use common sence. Dwarves can't be six foot five, humans can't sing to trees, etc. I am willing to accept races who behave abnormally from the others, so long as there is a halfway decent reason for them doing so.
POWERS: VERY IMPORTANT
Powers are very much allowed and encouraged. But there must be limits. I will bring a character in who is powered, but I want this roleplay to be more about a band of heroes working together, not a band of tag-alongs who follow around a character who one-shots everything. If your character is a mage, or an elemantalist, they can obviously use a variety of spells to put them at an advantage. The only reason they have such spells is to compensate for a lack of physical attributes. This is their weakness, and is universal for mages of many different universes.
The point is: Every race/class has its disadvantages. Your character should be no different. There is also nothing stopping you from making someone without any powers, except maybe faster reflexes.
If you have any questions about any of the rules stated above, you may PM me at any time. Also, if you feel something ought to be mentioned that I have not included, here, feel free to tell me, and I may add it. If you feel that someone is breaking one or more of these rules, and I have missed it, PM me the exact post and what rules they are in violation of. In some cases, it may be easier to simply inform the person, instead, and allow they to correct the mistake. Rules are subject to change without warning, but I will warn you after the fact, if it is a major rule change.
Reviews
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OOC Notes
The streets were empty, tonight. A cold breeze blows between the buildings, creating a low whistle which echoes, eerily, in Vesica's ears. Her body is cloaked, face hidden beneath a plain hood as she travels briskly down the alleyway, towards the local pub. The lord over the town has ordered the streets cleared in anticipation of some grand "event", though none had ever taken place, to the citizens dismay. Still, Gansend's soldiers patrolled nearly every dirt road, dealing harshly with any who were found outdoors.
Vesica continues to move through the side alleys of the city, as the guards rarely, if ever, bothered to check them. As the stranger reaches the open street, two squads of soldiers can be seen walking steadily away from the alleyway, their backs turned. Quickly, the woman becomes little more than a blur of motion, travelling from one side of the street to the other in mere moments, with nary a sound to announce her presence. A slight clatter of metal plates is heard as a pair of helmeted heads turns towards the alleyway.. then back to their previous positions. She moves again, maintaining her rapid pace towards the town pub, which was open all day everyday, much to the people's pleasure; there was never a time that was bad for drowning one's sorrows.
Keeping an eye on her surroundings, Vesica darts quickly to the front door of the pub, knocks lightly three times, to follow with two more knocks. The door opens, and the woman slips in unnoticed.
"Vesica, what in blue blazes do you think you're doing here?!" A burly man stands off to one side her, immediately inside. "You know what Hagadra has ordered his lackeys to do to anyone caught outside, tonight, don't you? I've already been hearing rumors of men slaughtered in the streets by those lightless Wraiths!"
Vesica's hands rise up to grasp either edge of the hood as it's pulled back to reveal her young face. Her eyes were a deep shade of green, her curly chestnut hair tied back in a ponytail, away from her soft features. A slight smile graced her lips as she turned to face the man. "Would you relax, Jack? You know as well as I that those shells can't hope to catch me." Vesica deftly undoes her ponytail, allowing her brown locks to fall freely past her shoulders as Jack, the barkeep, stamps his foot, his head shaking vigorously to either side.
"I don't care what you -think- you're capable of! I promised your father I would help look after you, and that's just what I intend to do!" A sigh escapes Vesica's lips. "That was two years ago.. A lot's changed." Her thoughts would be interrupted as Jack's meaty finger would jab towards her face, nearly taking out an eye. "You're still just a kid, in my book.. and, besides, what do you hope to accomplish by this.. this -foolhardy- venture of yours?"
Vesica would take a small step backwards so as to remove the finger from her bubble of personal space before replying. "Who knows..? I suppose it will depend on how successful we all are, as a unit."
Jack's eyes would noticeably widen. "'We'? 'Unit'? Just how many people have you got going along with your crazy scheme?"
The woman turns back towards the door, her long, curly chestnut hair following behind her. "As many as will come.."
Vesica continues to move through the side alleys of the city, as the guards rarely, if ever, bothered to check them. As the stranger reaches the open street, two squads of soldiers can be seen walking steadily away from the alleyway, their backs turned. Quickly, the woman becomes little more than a blur of motion, travelling from one side of the street to the other in mere moments, with nary a sound to announce her presence. A slight clatter of metal plates is heard as a pair of helmeted heads turns towards the alleyway.. then back to their previous positions. She moves again, maintaining her rapid pace towards the town pub, which was open all day everyday, much to the people's pleasure; there was never a time that was bad for drowning one's sorrows.
Keeping an eye on her surroundings, Vesica darts quickly to the front door of the pub, knocks lightly three times, to follow with two more knocks. The door opens, and the woman slips in unnoticed.
"Vesica, what in blue blazes do you think you're doing here?!" A burly man stands off to one side her, immediately inside. "You know what Hagadra has ordered his lackeys to do to anyone caught outside, tonight, don't you? I've already been hearing rumors of men slaughtered in the streets by those lightless Wraiths!"
Vesica's hands rise up to grasp either edge of the hood as it's pulled back to reveal her young face. Her eyes were a deep shade of green, her curly chestnut hair tied back in a ponytail, away from her soft features. A slight smile graced her lips as she turned to face the man. "Would you relax, Jack? You know as well as I that those shells can't hope to catch me." Vesica deftly undoes her ponytail, allowing her brown locks to fall freely past her shoulders as Jack, the barkeep, stamps his foot, his head shaking vigorously to either side.
"I don't care what you -think- you're capable of! I promised your father I would help look after you, and that's just what I intend to do!" A sigh escapes Vesica's lips. "That was two years ago.. A lot's changed." Her thoughts would be interrupted as Jack's meaty finger would jab towards her face, nearly taking out an eye. "You're still just a kid, in my book.. and, besides, what do you hope to accomplish by this.. this -foolhardy- venture of yours?"
Vesica would take a small step backwards so as to remove the finger from her bubble of personal space before replying. "Who knows..? I suppose it will depend on how successful we all are, as a unit."
Jack's eyes would noticeably widen. "'We'? 'Unit'? Just how many people have you got going along with your crazy scheme?"
The woman turns back towards the door, her long, curly chestnut hair following behind her. "As many as will come.."
OOC Notes
Fifteen days. Fifteen days avoiding the main roads while keeping to the lowland trails and river paths. She had spent the first three nights in the freezing rain and sleet of the Syneslet Mountains without a fire. Fire would have alerted anyone searching for her and, if they had found her, they would have dragged her back in chains to Overlord Fodrn to face ... what? Death? She chuckled to herself. Death would have been a welcome relief and would have, at the very least, washed from her memory the many horrors she had witnessed. But then death was no guarantee of escape either.
After the fifth day she knew they had stopped searching. Too many had run away to those mountains only to be found dead from freezing or ripped apart by... she shook her head; it was best not to think of it. She was now only half a day’s ride from Tirisfeld. It was here she hoped to find her freedom. Rumours said this nation was in the corner of Gansend’s eye and he rarely looked this way. Still the overlord of Tirisfeld belonged to Gansend and care must be taken, but here her face would not be recognized and her name would be like any other; meaningless.
Her black charger Nemesis, a gift from her father on her eighteenth name day, snorted and bucked his head. Naomi reached down and patted his thick muscled neck.
“Yes, yes I know. One more night in the wilds, my friend, and then tomorrow you will have good grain to eat and a warm stable in which to rest. As for me,” she sniffed and wrinkled her nose, “well a hot bath and some soap are long overdue. But then the city guards will be less likely to approach and ask questions, especially if they are downwind.”
This attempt at humour was rare on the part of the nineteen year old and passed quickly. She was alone now. Far from the familiar, even if the familiar had been a dark and unkind existence ... it had still been hers. It had been something. What lay ahead must be faced, accepted, reformed in her own image, with her own set of rules, not someone else’s. She twisted in the saddle and looked back the way she had come. Only the highest peaks of the Syneslet Mountains could be seen on the distant horizon and even they were fading in the evening haze. She turned back around, shifted in the saddle and closed her eyes. If there were any gods or goddesses left she would have prayed to one, but they were destroyed long ago ... long before her time ... long before even her parents time. The only thing left to pray to was Death or the Darkness that even it served. Naomi’s gloved hand absently reached up and fingered the glass vial hanging around her neck. Opening her eyes she scanned the evening sky. Dark broken clouds scudded eastward as the last rays of sunlight burnt the wings of ravens wheeling overhead. She dropped her hand and jerked the reins pulling Nemesis toward a corpse of heavy pines near the riverbank.
“Not tonight,” she whispered. “Not tonight.”
****
Naomi was up at first light. A full night without dark visions and nightmares allowed her ample rest and helped clear her mind. She would need a clear head this day. Taking her time while listening for any roving fell-creatures, she dressed in men’s clothing; leather britches, dark leather riding boots and snug wool doublet with embroidered sleeves. Even though her breasts were smallish, she had chosen a close fitting doublet to smooth out the appearance of her chest. Her rapier hung on a black leather frog and her dagger on her ring belt. She wore her rapier low as a man would. With her raven hair cut short and a bit of dirt rubbed into her chin she could easily pass as a young rogue or the son of some nobleman. Her plan was to enter the city in broad daylight and make her way to the city proper. Once there she would seek out a suitable inn, nothing expensive, but it must have a stable and, hopefully, a nearby tavern. She knew well how the city guards thought. She only hoped there would be no hybrids at the city gates. She had seen one, once, and did not come away completely whole from the experience. She closed her eyes and drove the vision from her mind.
To try and enter the city at night would be impossible as none were allowed to pass and those who tried were severely questioned or worse. She stored her cloak in her saddlebags for she also knew anyone entering the city whose face was hidden by hood or mask would be stopped and questioned. She would enter boldly, confidently as if Tirisfeld where her home. If they stopped and questioned her she knew what she would say. After checking and rechecking her equipment and feeding Nemesis the last handful of oats from her saddlebags, she mounted and headed up the steep riverbank to the main road. The morning sky was heavy with cloud and the light southern breeze carried the promise of rain. Looking up and down the road and seeing no one she tugged Nemeses eastward, towards Tirisfeld and set off at an easy walk. By mid-day she began seeing carts and wagons going in both directions. Work gangs of Elves ferrying lumber from the nearby forest were watched over or whipped by their cruel human guards. She ignored them, having seen such sights and worse while in service to her father.
Before long the great city loomed before her. Some distance out she dismounted, removed her spurs and placed them in the saddle bags. Nemesis’s nostrils flared and he snorted as the stench of the outer districts reached them. Naomi deepened her voice as best she could to sound more like a man.
“Easy boy,” she soothed.
Nemesis flicked an ear in her direction and she smiled. Soon she was leading the great steed towards the outer gates while mingling among the parade of traders, wagons and forced-labourers that came and went from the city. As they crossed the wide bridge leading to the outer gates, she frowned. There appeared to be more guards on duty than normal. Keeping her head bowed as if in thought she quickly counted their numbers. More than double what was normal. Something was going on. Stopping, she stooped and ran her hand along Nemesis’s hind leg while watching the gates.
“Don’t be foolish,” she thought. “This is not about you. Father would never have received permission to send word of my disappearance this far. You are not that important. Not in a million years. No. This is something else.”
Standing, she ran her hand along Nemesis flank. He swished his tail impatiently. Naomi glanced at the guards. She knew what to do. What to say if they stopped her. This doubling of the guard could work to her advantage. Taking up the reins again she started leading the charger into the city... she was ready.
To her relief no one stopped her. Perhaps it was due to a distraction on the bridge which attracted most of the guards’ attention. A wagon loaded with lumber had thrown a wheel and was causing a back up. An argument ensued drawing most of the guards away.
After about an hour of passing through the stinking hovels and shacks of the outer city Naomi reached the City Proper. She was directed by a shopkeeper to an inn located off one of the back streets in an area least patrolled by the City Guards. She was cautioned to remain indoors at night as the city would be in lockdown in preparation for some event. She thanked the man and handed him a silver piece for his troubles.
She had no trouble finding the inn and assessed it to be most adequate. Reasonably priced and with a well kept stable and, directly across the street, a tavern that was open all day, every day. By sunset she had secured Nemesis and saw to it the innkeeper was well paid, using most of her gold to do so. The room was sparse but comfortable and she was paid up for one week while she figured out some way to make a bit of coin. Teaching fencing and duelling was a possibility, but if word of her skill spread ... well, questions would be asked. Regardless, she had enough gold to last a while so there was no immediate concern. The innkeeper arranged for a hot bath, in private, and by the time she was bathed and dressed it was dark. Feeling refreshed she went downstairs and headed toward the door. The innkeeper stopped her.
“I would not be goin out this night lad. There’d be trouble if ye were caught `an I’d be hatein to be loose a good payin customer such as yerself.”
Naomi turned her head and nodded to the man. “Thank you sir. Your concern is well noted. I will be careful.”
Leaving the inn she stood in the deep shadows of the recessed doorway and scanned the empty street. As nothing moved she slipped across the street and entered the tavern. The place was like a thousand others she had been in. Warm, dimly lit and with few patrons, it was perfect. Noting the barkeep and a young woman were the only people in the tavern; Naomi moved to a shadowed, corner table and sat down with her back to the wall, facing the door. Removing her riding gloves she tossed them on the table as any young man would. She then dropped a silver coin on the table and, without looking up, waved her hand nonchalantly for service.
After the fifth day she knew they had stopped searching. Too many had run away to those mountains only to be found dead from freezing or ripped apart by... she shook her head; it was best not to think of it. She was now only half a day’s ride from Tirisfeld. It was here she hoped to find her freedom. Rumours said this nation was in the corner of Gansend’s eye and he rarely looked this way. Still the overlord of Tirisfeld belonged to Gansend and care must be taken, but here her face would not be recognized and her name would be like any other; meaningless.
Her black charger Nemesis, a gift from her father on her eighteenth name day, snorted and bucked his head. Naomi reached down and patted his thick muscled neck.
“Yes, yes I know. One more night in the wilds, my friend, and then tomorrow you will have good grain to eat and a warm stable in which to rest. As for me,” she sniffed and wrinkled her nose, “well a hot bath and some soap are long overdue. But then the city guards will be less likely to approach and ask questions, especially if they are downwind.”
This attempt at humour was rare on the part of the nineteen year old and passed quickly. She was alone now. Far from the familiar, even if the familiar had been a dark and unkind existence ... it had still been hers. It had been something. What lay ahead must be faced, accepted, reformed in her own image, with her own set of rules, not someone else’s. She twisted in the saddle and looked back the way she had come. Only the highest peaks of the Syneslet Mountains could be seen on the distant horizon and even they were fading in the evening haze. She turned back around, shifted in the saddle and closed her eyes. If there were any gods or goddesses left she would have prayed to one, but they were destroyed long ago ... long before her time ... long before even her parents time. The only thing left to pray to was Death or the Darkness that even it served. Naomi’s gloved hand absently reached up and fingered the glass vial hanging around her neck. Opening her eyes she scanned the evening sky. Dark broken clouds scudded eastward as the last rays of sunlight burnt the wings of ravens wheeling overhead. She dropped her hand and jerked the reins pulling Nemesis toward a corpse of heavy pines near the riverbank.
“Not tonight,” she whispered. “Not tonight.”
****
Naomi was up at first light. A full night without dark visions and nightmares allowed her ample rest and helped clear her mind. She would need a clear head this day. Taking her time while listening for any roving fell-creatures, she dressed in men’s clothing; leather britches, dark leather riding boots and snug wool doublet with embroidered sleeves. Even though her breasts were smallish, she had chosen a close fitting doublet to smooth out the appearance of her chest. Her rapier hung on a black leather frog and her dagger on her ring belt. She wore her rapier low as a man would. With her raven hair cut short and a bit of dirt rubbed into her chin she could easily pass as a young rogue or the son of some nobleman. Her plan was to enter the city in broad daylight and make her way to the city proper. Once there she would seek out a suitable inn, nothing expensive, but it must have a stable and, hopefully, a nearby tavern. She knew well how the city guards thought. She only hoped there would be no hybrids at the city gates. She had seen one, once, and did not come away completely whole from the experience. She closed her eyes and drove the vision from her mind.
To try and enter the city at night would be impossible as none were allowed to pass and those who tried were severely questioned or worse. She stored her cloak in her saddlebags for she also knew anyone entering the city whose face was hidden by hood or mask would be stopped and questioned. She would enter boldly, confidently as if Tirisfeld where her home. If they stopped and questioned her she knew what she would say. After checking and rechecking her equipment and feeding Nemesis the last handful of oats from her saddlebags, she mounted and headed up the steep riverbank to the main road. The morning sky was heavy with cloud and the light southern breeze carried the promise of rain. Looking up and down the road and seeing no one she tugged Nemeses eastward, towards Tirisfeld and set off at an easy walk. By mid-day she began seeing carts and wagons going in both directions. Work gangs of Elves ferrying lumber from the nearby forest were watched over or whipped by their cruel human guards. She ignored them, having seen such sights and worse while in service to her father.
Before long the great city loomed before her. Some distance out she dismounted, removed her spurs and placed them in the saddle bags. Nemesis’s nostrils flared and he snorted as the stench of the outer districts reached them. Naomi deepened her voice as best she could to sound more like a man.
“Easy boy,” she soothed.
Nemesis flicked an ear in her direction and she smiled. Soon she was leading the great steed towards the outer gates while mingling among the parade of traders, wagons and forced-labourers that came and went from the city. As they crossed the wide bridge leading to the outer gates, she frowned. There appeared to be more guards on duty than normal. Keeping her head bowed as if in thought she quickly counted their numbers. More than double what was normal. Something was going on. Stopping, she stooped and ran her hand along Nemesis’s hind leg while watching the gates.
“Don’t be foolish,” she thought. “This is not about you. Father would never have received permission to send word of my disappearance this far. You are not that important. Not in a million years. No. This is something else.”
Standing, she ran her hand along Nemesis flank. He swished his tail impatiently. Naomi glanced at the guards. She knew what to do. What to say if they stopped her. This doubling of the guard could work to her advantage. Taking up the reins again she started leading the charger into the city... she was ready.
To her relief no one stopped her. Perhaps it was due to a distraction on the bridge which attracted most of the guards’ attention. A wagon loaded with lumber had thrown a wheel and was causing a back up. An argument ensued drawing most of the guards away.
After about an hour of passing through the stinking hovels and shacks of the outer city Naomi reached the City Proper. She was directed by a shopkeeper to an inn located off one of the back streets in an area least patrolled by the City Guards. She was cautioned to remain indoors at night as the city would be in lockdown in preparation for some event. She thanked the man and handed him a silver piece for his troubles.
She had no trouble finding the inn and assessed it to be most adequate. Reasonably priced and with a well kept stable and, directly across the street, a tavern that was open all day, every day. By sunset she had secured Nemesis and saw to it the innkeeper was well paid, using most of her gold to do so. The room was sparse but comfortable and she was paid up for one week while she figured out some way to make a bit of coin. Teaching fencing and duelling was a possibility, but if word of her skill spread ... well, questions would be asked. Regardless, she had enough gold to last a while so there was no immediate concern. The innkeeper arranged for a hot bath, in private, and by the time she was bathed and dressed it was dark. Feeling refreshed she went downstairs and headed toward the door. The innkeeper stopped her.
“I would not be goin out this night lad. There’d be trouble if ye were caught `an I’d be hatein to be loose a good payin customer such as yerself.”
Naomi turned her head and nodded to the man. “Thank you sir. Your concern is well noted. I will be careful.”
Leaving the inn she stood in the deep shadows of the recessed doorway and scanned the empty street. As nothing moved she slipped across the street and entered the tavern. The place was like a thousand others she had been in. Warm, dimly lit and with few patrons, it was perfect. Noting the barkeep and a young woman were the only people in the tavern; Naomi moved to a shadowed, corner table and sat down with her back to the wall, facing the door. Removing her riding gloves she tossed them on the table as any young man would. She then dropped a silver coin on the table and, without looking up, waved her hand nonchalantly for service.
OOC Notes
It had been weeks since Scrabrokk's home was destroyed and his family had been slaughtered before his eyes but, although the road he travelled was tough and the memories were still fresh, he bore the weight of life as well as any other weary wanderer in these dark days. Sacrifices had been made, not for him but for the hundreds or thousands of lives that may yet be saved should he succeed in the quest he had been born to complete. Well, to say the burden was his alone to carry would be unfair. Never had he been told the duty was to be fulfilled on his lonesome but never had he been told either where he could find likeminded fellows or how to find them himself. And so it had come to be that Srabrokk, a Goblin, had been reduced to asking and ocassionally threatening passers-by. If he was lucky he would find a merchant closer to inhabited territory or a supply cart out in the wilderness. Often he would have to unsheath his weapon and on no less than two dozen ocassions had to use it.
In the end he managed to scavenge enough rumours, as well as a healthy number of fresh scars, to guide him in the general direction of hope. And that hope lay in Tirisfeld. It was only the hope of the desperate and damned but if he was neither then he was also a fool, for Scrabrokk knew that death lay at the end of his journey. But that was not yet to come, Tirisfeld was the next milestone and he would find what he searched for there.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Each new day signalled sleep was coming and sunset woke the Goblin loner every evening. The shadows were his friend at home, though no such place existed anymore, and abroad, he found some semblance of comfort and no end of convenience in moving under cover of darkness. So it was on this last day of his journey to Tirisfeld that Scrabrokk found himself below a mercifully cloudy sky unlit by moon or star. Keeping low and quiet he slipped across the ground, slightly unsteady on the dewy grass that he was so unused to, as the city limits grew ever closer. Lights moved in the distance, guards on the roads could be heard from a mile away and the outlaw's eyes were keen enough to pick out a route even as he ran.
Folk tended to remember a heavily armed Goblin with a face from hell passing them by and Scrabrokk wished to remain as anonymous as was possible so entry via the gates was not an option, neither was travel along the main streets. It came down to adaptation and some luck to get him inside the city proper. Failing that, he would slit a throat or two.
Between shacks and sheds he moved, as though carried by the wind, staying out of sight of any guard or civilian. He could raise no alert as much as he could talk his way past Gansend himself. The outskirts were easy for one of his skill to negotiate, especially as he headed for the point furthest from any gate and therefore furthest from heavy amounts of guards.
Once or twice he suspected he had been seen but if that were true then he had been dismissed as unimportant, perhaps a ragamuffin child of the night judging by his height, which was shortened moreso by his posture, and he reached the bottom of the wall without incident. Breathing remaining calm and controlled, he checked his gear one last time before straightening his back and staring up at the night sky which ended dramatically at the top of the structure he stood before. Scrabrokk had grown up in the deepest valleys in the land, he had climbed cliff faces on a daily basis and the city walls were dwarf by comparison. No, the height was no problem but the surface and the situation provided him with more difficulty than he had first envisioned. There were few decent holds for his hands nad he would have to rely mostly on his claws to grip between the stones as he made his way up to enter the city from above. There were also more patrols than he would have liked for the job but waiting around was not an option, so he climbed.
Wearing no footwear only aided the Goblin's ascent as the nails of his feet scrabbled at the cracks between the rocks but the climb still took him almost five minutes and by the time he reached the top he was exhausted, as well as two nails down from when he started. These things were inconsequential to him however, as he was met by the most glorious sight - He was alone. At least, he was for the time being. Lights could be seen moving his way along the wall and there was no way down that he could reach without passing a patrol unless he caused himself some kind of injury.
A hunched hobble along the edge of the wall provided a descent which would be quicker but far more damaging in the long run. There was no need to weigh up such trivial matters though, pain was nothing more than an inconvenience which he could deal with in vast quantities, so he took a leap which, on first glance, would lead to his death.
So long as Scrabrokk planned his fall and prevented himself plummeting directly to the ground he would survive without any life-altering changed to his physique, which is why anyone foolish enough to be wandering the streets at such an hour may have seen a Goblin soar from above, only to hurtle across the gap between the outer wall and a neighbouring building to land with a crack on the windowsill, which was only wide enough to accomodate the side of his skull and half his ribcage, causing a rebound which knocked him back, sending him into a fall which was delayed by him rolling off the roof of an outhouse with the clatter of his shield on rock and ended with the crunch of a broken foot upon landing. Barely a second later he was on his feet and round the corner, hiding himself in an alleyway out of view of most areas.
It was here he waited and watched. The door of what was clearly a tavern was closed quickly and he barely noticed as he settled into his position in the darkest doorway he could find. Whoever had entered had done it without wanting to be seen and had succeeded as far as he could tell. Be it man or woman, tall or short, he could not say. A place of such secretive behaviour though, would surely be a fine starting place. Yet still he hung back to observe. And as well he should, for a slender lad moved inside quickly, perhaps having had the same idea as himself. A minute passed before he made his move and he hoisted his shield higher up on his back, ducked his head and trudged across the street with his mace bouncing along beside his leg, several points now tipped with blood after his messy landing had earned him a few new scratches.
He swung the door open and stepped inside, instantly taking sight of the interior. While he had hoped for a few more people he was not disappointed at the prospect of a strong drink after so long in the wilderness, so without breaking stride Scrabrokk walked slowly over to the bar, his claws clicking against the ground as his arms swung limply from his side and the outside half of his left foot drooped down with every step, the mangled bones visibly pressing out from the inside of his leathery, grey skin. Once at the bar he reached around to a small pouch which could easily have been mistaken as being part of his body and pulled out a roughly cut but gleaming diamond which he placed on the bar beside him after eyeing up the silver coin produced by the well-kept lad in the corner. This boy was smooth-chinned and barely off his mother's breast. He could wait his turn.
"Your strongest grog, barkeep, and be sure to make it more than a dribble." The words were difficult to make out as the voice was little more than a rasp from disuse and the words seemed forced, as though the owner was reluctant to speak them. The Goblin's demand was followed by a snarl in the direction of the fresh-faced lad in the shadows. He disapproved of the idea that someone with unweathered hands would get a drink before him. There was no intention of causing trouble, Scrabrokk was simply not used to the civilised customs of human ways. Although even if he was he would probably have acted no differently.
In the end he managed to scavenge enough rumours, as well as a healthy number of fresh scars, to guide him in the general direction of hope. And that hope lay in Tirisfeld. It was only the hope of the desperate and damned but if he was neither then he was also a fool, for Scrabrokk knew that death lay at the end of his journey. But that was not yet to come, Tirisfeld was the next milestone and he would find what he searched for there.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Each new day signalled sleep was coming and sunset woke the Goblin loner every evening. The shadows were his friend at home, though no such place existed anymore, and abroad, he found some semblance of comfort and no end of convenience in moving under cover of darkness. So it was on this last day of his journey to Tirisfeld that Scrabrokk found himself below a mercifully cloudy sky unlit by moon or star. Keeping low and quiet he slipped across the ground, slightly unsteady on the dewy grass that he was so unused to, as the city limits grew ever closer. Lights moved in the distance, guards on the roads could be heard from a mile away and the outlaw's eyes were keen enough to pick out a route even as he ran.
Folk tended to remember a heavily armed Goblin with a face from hell passing them by and Scrabrokk wished to remain as anonymous as was possible so entry via the gates was not an option, neither was travel along the main streets. It came down to adaptation and some luck to get him inside the city proper. Failing that, he would slit a throat or two.
Between shacks and sheds he moved, as though carried by the wind, staying out of sight of any guard or civilian. He could raise no alert as much as he could talk his way past Gansend himself. The outskirts were easy for one of his skill to negotiate, especially as he headed for the point furthest from any gate and therefore furthest from heavy amounts of guards.
Once or twice he suspected he had been seen but if that were true then he had been dismissed as unimportant, perhaps a ragamuffin child of the night judging by his height, which was shortened moreso by his posture, and he reached the bottom of the wall without incident. Breathing remaining calm and controlled, he checked his gear one last time before straightening his back and staring up at the night sky which ended dramatically at the top of the structure he stood before. Scrabrokk had grown up in the deepest valleys in the land, he had climbed cliff faces on a daily basis and the city walls were dwarf by comparison. No, the height was no problem but the surface and the situation provided him with more difficulty than he had first envisioned. There were few decent holds for his hands nad he would have to rely mostly on his claws to grip between the stones as he made his way up to enter the city from above. There were also more patrols than he would have liked for the job but waiting around was not an option, so he climbed.
Wearing no footwear only aided the Goblin's ascent as the nails of his feet scrabbled at the cracks between the rocks but the climb still took him almost five minutes and by the time he reached the top he was exhausted, as well as two nails down from when he started. These things were inconsequential to him however, as he was met by the most glorious sight - He was alone. At least, he was for the time being. Lights could be seen moving his way along the wall and there was no way down that he could reach without passing a patrol unless he caused himself some kind of injury.
A hunched hobble along the edge of the wall provided a descent which would be quicker but far more damaging in the long run. There was no need to weigh up such trivial matters though, pain was nothing more than an inconvenience which he could deal with in vast quantities, so he took a leap which, on first glance, would lead to his death.
So long as Scrabrokk planned his fall and prevented himself plummeting directly to the ground he would survive without any life-altering changed to his physique, which is why anyone foolish enough to be wandering the streets at such an hour may have seen a Goblin soar from above, only to hurtle across the gap between the outer wall and a neighbouring building to land with a crack on the windowsill, which was only wide enough to accomodate the side of his skull and half his ribcage, causing a rebound which knocked him back, sending him into a fall which was delayed by him rolling off the roof of an outhouse with the clatter of his shield on rock and ended with the crunch of a broken foot upon landing. Barely a second later he was on his feet and round the corner, hiding himself in an alleyway out of view of most areas.
It was here he waited and watched. The door of what was clearly a tavern was closed quickly and he barely noticed as he settled into his position in the darkest doorway he could find. Whoever had entered had done it without wanting to be seen and had succeeded as far as he could tell. Be it man or woman, tall or short, he could not say. A place of such secretive behaviour though, would surely be a fine starting place. Yet still he hung back to observe. And as well he should, for a slender lad moved inside quickly, perhaps having had the same idea as himself. A minute passed before he made his move and he hoisted his shield higher up on his back, ducked his head and trudged across the street with his mace bouncing along beside his leg, several points now tipped with blood after his messy landing had earned him a few new scratches.
He swung the door open and stepped inside, instantly taking sight of the interior. While he had hoped for a few more people he was not disappointed at the prospect of a strong drink after so long in the wilderness, so without breaking stride Scrabrokk walked slowly over to the bar, his claws clicking against the ground as his arms swung limply from his side and the outside half of his left foot drooped down with every step, the mangled bones visibly pressing out from the inside of his leathery, grey skin. Once at the bar he reached around to a small pouch which could easily have been mistaken as being part of his body and pulled out a roughly cut but gleaming diamond which he placed on the bar beside him after eyeing up the silver coin produced by the well-kept lad in the corner. This boy was smooth-chinned and barely off his mother's breast. He could wait his turn.
"Your strongest grog, barkeep, and be sure to make it more than a dribble." The words were difficult to make out as the voice was little more than a rasp from disuse and the words seemed forced, as though the owner was reluctant to speak them. The Goblin's demand was followed by a snarl in the direction of the fresh-faced lad in the shadows. He disapproved of the idea that someone with unweathered hands would get a drink before him. There was no intention of causing trouble, Scrabrokk was simply not used to the civilised customs of human ways. Although even if he was he would probably have acted no differently.
OOC Notes
No sooner had Naomi waved for service than the door swung open and spewed forth the foulest smelling, most disgusting looking creature she had seen in some time and, judging from the way it hobbled up to the bar; a mightily injured one as well. Naomi was very familiar with goblins having helped her father and his men round up large numbers of them in the foothills not far from Syneslet. Although she had little love for the creatures she had come to respect them for their bravery and unswerving single mindedness. Like tics, once they targeted you they would not let go until they were killed outright or burned to blindness. Once, when she was no older than twelve, she witnessed one particularly large goblin kill seven of her father’s troops after taking over twenty arrows. He took ten more before he fell. What they lacked in finesse and manners they more than made up for in pure, raw, unadulterated rage. And they did not go to the Darkness or surrender their will easily. Of all the races Gansend had enslaved, goblins were the toughest by far. But in the end, even they fell.
When the creature ordered a grog in a raspy, barely understandable growl then turned and snarled in her direction, Naomi simply smiled, leaned her chair back and braced it against the wall as she hoisted her legs up unto the table. She adjusted her rapier so it lay across her lap. Prudence demanded she not engage in insults with this goblin for that was another one of their favorite pastimes…hurling insults, not only at strangers but at each other as though it were some sort of game, and for all she knew, it very well could be. But considering the situation she was in and the need for discretion, she chose the path of least resistance.
“Any man or goblin that can walk on that sort of injury deserves to be served first. In fact, tavern keeper, the first round is on me.”
When the creature ordered a grog in a raspy, barely understandable growl then turned and snarled in her direction, Naomi simply smiled, leaned her chair back and braced it against the wall as she hoisted her legs up unto the table. She adjusted her rapier so it lay across her lap. Prudence demanded she not engage in insults with this goblin for that was another one of their favorite pastimes…hurling insults, not only at strangers but at each other as though it were some sort of game, and for all she knew, it very well could be. But considering the situation she was in and the need for discretion, she chose the path of least resistance.
“Any man or goblin that can walk on that sort of injury deserves to be served first. In fact, tavern keeper, the first round is on me.”
OOC Notes
As the woman enters through the front door, Jack leans to one side, gazing around Vesica's form to get a clear view as what appeared to be a young man took a seat in the corner, alone."That one of them, now?" He says, his voice no higher than a whisper. Vesica follows his gaze to the boy and replies just as quietly. "I can't be sure.. we can't afford to just assume everyone who comes tonight is in on the message.. just treat everyone like customers, at least until they start asking questions. Then, call me over." She turns back to Jack. "Can you handle that?"
Jack bristles, slightly. "I'm not going along with any of this tomfoolery, Vesica! You're the one who started this whole thing, and by the Light you-" His thoughts are interrupted as the young man plops a silver coin down on the table, his hand raised over his head for service. Jack's demeanor instantly changes, and Vesica could swear that she could see silver coins dancing in his eyes. Jack had always been about his money..
"Yes! Be right with you, young sir!" Jack hurries from behind Vesica, his portly frame jostling, slightly, as he trudges towards Naomi's table. As he drew near, however, the front doors would swing open, once more. Jack turns his attention towards the newcomer, and his face loses some of it's color.
Hobbling into the tavern had to be the ugliest son of a goblin Jack had ever laid eyes on. His skin was a mess of scar tissue and burn marks, coupled with several deformities, including a missing top half to one of his ears. The goblin looked as though he had just been through hell, to boot, as he limped on a badly injured leg, either fighting through the pain that he felt, or ignoring it, entirely. Silver forgotten, Jack turns to look at Vesica, nodding his head towards the creature as if to say, "Well? What are you going to do about this?"
Vesica had seen him enter, as well, and watched as the mass of goblin flesh walked past her, making his way towards the bar counter to place his order. She turns her head back to look at Jack, holding one hand up as if to calm his worries. Then, with a slight shrug of her shoulders, she makes her way towards the bar counter, moving past Scrabrokk Creva'Tuun to stroll around to the other side, her face a picture of good nature and friendliness. In spite of her many pieces of equipment, most of which were easily visible, her movements were incredibly smooth and silent; even the leather of her armor was well broken-in, and made next to no noise. "Evening, stranger.. I'll get that drink started for you, right away."as she reaches beneath the counter to retrieve the beverage he had requested, she hears the man say that the goblin's drinks will be paid for, in advance. "Looks like your lucky night, huh?" She looks him in the eyes, doing her best not to flinch or look away as she continues. "You been through some hardship..? Those are some pretty bad injuries. If you want, I can get you some bandages.. clean water, perhaps. No charge, of course."
Even as Jack sighs to himself and starts to turn back to take the young man's order, he declares that the goblin would be served, first, and that his drinks would be paid for by him. Jack blinks for a moment before responding. "Awfully nice of you, young sir.. but, not to worry, you won't have to wait to be served. I can take your order, now, if you're ready." Jack smiles warmly as he places his hands on his hips. "Now, than, what'll it be, tonight?"
Jack bristles, slightly. "I'm not going along with any of this tomfoolery, Vesica! You're the one who started this whole thing, and by the Light you-" His thoughts are interrupted as the young man plops a silver coin down on the table, his hand raised over his head for service. Jack's demeanor instantly changes, and Vesica could swear that she could see silver coins dancing in his eyes. Jack had always been about his money..
"Yes! Be right with you, young sir!" Jack hurries from behind Vesica, his portly frame jostling, slightly, as he trudges towards Naomi's table. As he drew near, however, the front doors would swing open, once more. Jack turns his attention towards the newcomer, and his face loses some of it's color.
Hobbling into the tavern had to be the ugliest son of a goblin Jack had ever laid eyes on. His skin was a mess of scar tissue and burn marks, coupled with several deformities, including a missing top half to one of his ears. The goblin looked as though he had just been through hell, to boot, as he limped on a badly injured leg, either fighting through the pain that he felt, or ignoring it, entirely. Silver forgotten, Jack turns to look at Vesica, nodding his head towards the creature as if to say, "Well? What are you going to do about this?"
Vesica had seen him enter, as well, and watched as the mass of goblin flesh walked past her, making his way towards the bar counter to place his order. She turns her head back to look at Jack, holding one hand up as if to calm his worries. Then, with a slight shrug of her shoulders, she makes her way towards the bar counter, moving past Scrabrokk Creva'Tuun to stroll around to the other side, her face a picture of good nature and friendliness. In spite of her many pieces of equipment, most of which were easily visible, her movements were incredibly smooth and silent; even the leather of her armor was well broken-in, and made next to no noise. "Evening, stranger.. I'll get that drink started for you, right away."as she reaches beneath the counter to retrieve the beverage he had requested, she hears the man say that the goblin's drinks will be paid for, in advance. "Looks like your lucky night, huh?" She looks him in the eyes, doing her best not to flinch or look away as she continues. "You been through some hardship..? Those are some pretty bad injuries. If you want, I can get you some bandages.. clean water, perhaps. No charge, of course."
Even as Jack sighs to himself and starts to turn back to take the young man's order, he declares that the goblin would be served, first, and that his drinks would be paid for by him. Jack blinks for a moment before responding. "Awfully nice of you, young sir.. but, not to worry, you won't have to wait to be served. I can take your order, now, if you're ready." Jack smiles warmly as he places his hands on his hips. "Now, than, what'll it be, tonight?"
OOC Notes
It was a dark and cold night and Mannix was beginning to feel chilled. He could wait no longer to enter the city. He had taken several days to take in the guards' routines. He waited until the first guards began to leave. He would have only five minutes to get over the wall. Afterwards he would only stay in the deepest shadows. He had heard of a tavern nearby that took in travelers regardless of where they came from. He hoped that these people would also be able to give him information about the darkness and how to defeat it. He would remain cautious, but fighting the darkness was far more important than losing his life.
There! The guards began to walk away and he sprang into action. He remembered his training and how he had to walk over rice paper, completely silently, or be smacked by the master's wooden pole. The guards could not have heard anything as he ran towards the city's wall. He jumped upwards and latched onto the hard stone of the wall with his powerful fingers. Then he climbed up as fast as he could. When he got to the top he looked back and saw the new guards staring off into the darkness of the night. He smiled, they had not noticed him. He looked over the city and saw many guards roaming the streets. He would have to either take the roofs of buildings or go by alleys. He decided that the roofs, while high up and not the usual form of travel, were still too noticeable, especially considering his red and white robes.
He decided that the best form of action would be to take dark alleys to get to the tavern. He climbed down from the wall and ran swiftly throughout back alleys between and behind buildings. While running he heard a scream nearby. He rounded a corner and saw a man holding a knife to a girl’s throat. He had a look of pure evil and contempt in his eyes. Mannix could not stand to see this kind of treachery and ran towards the man. When he got near, the man turned and stared at him with wide and wild eyes. Mannix drew his dual swords and struck at the man in the same fluid motion. The knife was not nearly strong enough to block such an attack and was knocked away with one sword while the other ripped through the man’s chest. The man fell to the ground and Mannix turned to the girl.
“Are you alright?” He asked softly. She nodded and continued to shake in fear. He looked calmly at the man on the ground. “He can never hurt you again, be safe and return home. Tell no one of this.” She nodded again and turned and ran away down another alley. Mannix returned to his path and began traveling to the tavern once more. He heard guards yelling and noted that he should have hidden the body. He sighed and stuck to the shadows reminding himself that he would not be congratulated for killing an evildoer in a city of evildoers. He remained unmolested and hidden until he reached the alley that led to the tavern. He made sure that there were no guards and crossed the street. He entered the tavern and looked around. Who shall I ask about the darkness?
There were already several people in the bar. There was a woman and a goblin at the bar. In the corner there was an androgynous figure sitting in the shadow. And there was always the barkeep. Mannix took his time to survey the tavern. He stood still, seemingly spaced out in the doorway. In truth he was subtly taking notice of every feature of the room for better self-defense while also considering his choices in conversation. In the end he simply sat down at the bar silently as he waited for the bartender to approach him.
There! The guards began to walk away and he sprang into action. He remembered his training and how he had to walk over rice paper, completely silently, or be smacked by the master's wooden pole. The guards could not have heard anything as he ran towards the city's wall. He jumped upwards and latched onto the hard stone of the wall with his powerful fingers. Then he climbed up as fast as he could. When he got to the top he looked back and saw the new guards staring off into the darkness of the night. He smiled, they had not noticed him. He looked over the city and saw many guards roaming the streets. He would have to either take the roofs of buildings or go by alleys. He decided that the roofs, while high up and not the usual form of travel, were still too noticeable, especially considering his red and white robes.
He decided that the best form of action would be to take dark alleys to get to the tavern. He climbed down from the wall and ran swiftly throughout back alleys between and behind buildings. While running he heard a scream nearby. He rounded a corner and saw a man holding a knife to a girl’s throat. He had a look of pure evil and contempt in his eyes. Mannix could not stand to see this kind of treachery and ran towards the man. When he got near, the man turned and stared at him with wide and wild eyes. Mannix drew his dual swords and struck at the man in the same fluid motion. The knife was not nearly strong enough to block such an attack and was knocked away with one sword while the other ripped through the man’s chest. The man fell to the ground and Mannix turned to the girl.
“Are you alright?” He asked softly. She nodded and continued to shake in fear. He looked calmly at the man on the ground. “He can never hurt you again, be safe and return home. Tell no one of this.” She nodded again and turned and ran away down another alley. Mannix returned to his path and began traveling to the tavern once more. He heard guards yelling and noted that he should have hidden the body. He sighed and stuck to the shadows reminding himself that he would not be congratulated for killing an evildoer in a city of evildoers. He remained unmolested and hidden until he reached the alley that led to the tavern. He made sure that there were no guards and crossed the street. He entered the tavern and looked around. Who shall I ask about the darkness?
There were already several people in the bar. There was a woman and a goblin at the bar. In the corner there was an androgynous figure sitting in the shadow. And there was always the barkeep. Mannix took his time to survey the tavern. He stood still, seemingly spaced out in the doorway. In truth he was subtly taking notice of every feature of the room for better self-defense while also considering his choices in conversation. In the end he simply sat down at the bar silently as he waited for the bartender to approach him.
OOC Notes
The bartender, who seemed to be an amicable fellow, came from behind the bar and approached Naomi to take her order. The fair haired woman at the bar was talking to the goblin and offering to lend him aide at no charge. Naomi’s senses peaked at hearing her offer. Who would offer a disgruntled, severely injured goblin, who was obviously on the run, aide? Naomi glanced, from the bartender, who was smiling a bit too forcefully and appeared quite nervous, to the young woman who seemed anxious to help the goblin. Everything her father taught her to look for in a criminal conspiracy was present here in this out-of-the-way tavern in this out-of-the-way-nation of Tirisfeld.
Naomi cleared her throat and was about to order an ale when, behold; yet another mysterious patron entered and this one too seemingly out of breath and over cautious. But at least he was human. Naomi frowned, her black eyes darting from one face to the other. She calmly reached out and spun the silver coin. It hummed on the wooden table for several seconds then wobbled to a tinny stop.
She focused her attention on the barkeep, who in her opinion, was the weakest link and if this was indeed some sort of secret meeting she had inadvertently stumbled upon, then it would be to her benefit to know. For should she be caught up in a raid by the city enforcers on her first night in the city, well … that would not be to her liking. She shifted her legs and let her hand drop casually to the hilt of her rapier.
“Ale, good sir, if you will, but tell me. Are the streets of this city always so busy during a lockdown?”
Naomi cleared her throat and was about to order an ale when, behold; yet another mysterious patron entered and this one too seemingly out of breath and over cautious. But at least he was human. Naomi frowned, her black eyes darting from one face to the other. She calmly reached out and spun the silver coin. It hummed on the wooden table for several seconds then wobbled to a tinny stop.
She focused her attention on the barkeep, who in her opinion, was the weakest link and if this was indeed some sort of secret meeting she had inadvertently stumbled upon, then it would be to her benefit to know. For should she be caught up in a raid by the city enforcers on her first night in the city, well … that would not be to her liking. She shifted her legs and let her hand drop casually to the hilt of her rapier.
“Ale, good sir, if you will, but tell me. Are the streets of this city always so busy during a lockdown?”
OOC Notes
She had come out of the black forest for a rumour. The trees whispered and the birds sang it. The earth trembled and the wolves howled it. The rumour reached Meralyacath Tallinde and her wolf in the cave she had claimed from a lynx. She had spent two cycles of the moon waiting, watching, and hating. She had not known how to begin; lost and unsure of how she could fulfill the promise she had made. When the rumour came, it spoke of revenge for all the lives the Darkness had destroyed. That very night she set out, muttering a long forgotten prayer to the gods.
It was near a month later when she neared the road that led to Tirisfeld town. The white wolf stopped as soon as he smelled the human presence. He whined at her, but Alya just scratched him under the chin before striking off toward the habitation. She heard his howls in the distance, and had to fight the urge to return them. Her self imposed exile from her fellow elven kind had left her disheveled and dirty, so she washed herself in a stream behind a lone house. The owners appeared to be working in a field some distance away, so Alya helped herself to a long cloak with a hood that hung from a door post, patting the guard dog on his head as she passed him in the yard. The dog followed her down the road, wagging his tail until she turned and growled at him viciously. He yipped and ran back to the homestead.
Despite her slight stature, she would easily be mistaken for human if she kept her face hidden by the cloak. She still avoided the road, traveling parallel to it whenever possible, just out of the watchful eyes of patrols. Whenever the treeline broke for a field or house, Alya would wait. When she was sure there were no close guards she would step out of the forest and join a small group of migrants or walk behind a caravan. The day was not warm, so she did not look out of place among other travelers, covered in cloaks and scarves and hats, as she headed towards the outskirts of town.
It took her another week, outside the city walls, to find a copy of the note promising vengeance and rebellion. She had spent the days sleeping on roofs and her nights avoiding the guards and investigating the rumour. After all her careful searching, she received the note by chance. She had woken in the late evening, the setting sun in her eyes, and she pulled herself out of the makeshift shelter of wooden boards she had made on the guardhouse roof. It had been the perfect hiding spot, though not very comfortable. Guards rarely looked up, and they felt no safer than in their own way station, right outside the city. There was some commotion from the street and Alya peered over the edge of the building. A wagon blocked the entrance to the city, and many guards were arguing with the merchant and his servants. Alya climbed down the side of the building, and threw her hood over her head. A crowd gathered, some stuck in line trying to enter the city, others simply watching the show. Alya watched as a small boy slid through the throng, checking a coinpurse here, cutting the strings to a satchel there. He came near, and started when he saw Alya staring at him. He leaned in, and whispered, "Yous an elf?"
Surprised, both at his words and his un-thieflike behaviour, she nodded. He bowed to her solemnly. "Not many elves come to town. Not ever, and not since the Darkness came, my grandpappy said, and he was a half-elf. They kilt him." By the venom in his voice, Alya knew that he meant the Darkness, Gansend's forces, when he said they. He continued, his face scrunched up, "I wanna fight, but my mam would be alone if I died. There's only one reason for an elf to come to this town." He thrust a piece of parchment in her hand as a cry rang out from the other side of the group. One of his victims had noticed that his pocket was lighter. The boy gave her a grin, though tears shined in his eyes as he took off down a side street, and Alya retreated to her perch on the building. She lay low for the rest of the evening, the guards were on high alert, and contemplated the note and its contents.
The moon was high, and she had spent the last two hours trying to decide how to get through the wall and into the city when she saw a figure slowly ascend the wall. The guards, as always, didn't look up, and he made it to the top safely. To her surprise, another figure ascended - not at the same location, but not far removed. It was not likely a coincidence, but Alya did not have experience climbing stone, and even climbing the guardhouse building had been difficult. Descending from her hideaway, she took the alleyways, away from patrols, until she reached the wall. Putting her hand against the cold stone, she shivered. A quiet rasping sound made her look down. A fat rat crawled out of the sewer, some bit of food in his mouth. Silently, she reached down to touch him.
Moments later she scraped her shoulders against the sides of the sewer hole. The rat told her this was the smallest part, that it would open up soon, but still the bile rose in Alya's throat as she squirmed through the passage. When she reached the other side, thick iron bars blocked her way. Long ago some street urchin, or maybe an escaped prisoner, had managed to remove one of the bars. It was just enough space for Alya to slide through. The other side opened to a deep sewer, filled with sludge and water from the recent rain. She had planned to travel through the sewer passages, using the rat as a guide, until she reached the inn, but the rat's thoughts had not prepared her for the stench. The smell was overpowering, and against her better judgment, she found the closest sewer grate, shoved it aside, and pulled herself out. Fortunately, there were no guards around, but she had made enough noise to attract some if any were nearby. Alya quickly replaced the grate and slipped into the shadows to get her bearings.
A city at night is never quiet, no more than a forest. There is always a predator and prey out in the darkness. She heard a woman cry out, and the sounds of fighting, and stayed far away. The noise of a city was unfamiliar to Alya, and she was unsure where to go, but the note had given her enough detail that she found the tavern, only getting lost in the dark streets once. Still dripping in sewer water, and smelling less than fragrant, she approached the doorway. A light shone through a crack in the barred window. Quietly, she knocked three times, then twice more.
It was near a month later when she neared the road that led to Tirisfeld town. The white wolf stopped as soon as he smelled the human presence. He whined at her, but Alya just scratched him under the chin before striking off toward the habitation. She heard his howls in the distance, and had to fight the urge to return them. Her self imposed exile from her fellow elven kind had left her disheveled and dirty, so she washed herself in a stream behind a lone house. The owners appeared to be working in a field some distance away, so Alya helped herself to a long cloak with a hood that hung from a door post, patting the guard dog on his head as she passed him in the yard. The dog followed her down the road, wagging his tail until she turned and growled at him viciously. He yipped and ran back to the homestead.
Despite her slight stature, she would easily be mistaken for human if she kept her face hidden by the cloak. She still avoided the road, traveling parallel to it whenever possible, just out of the watchful eyes of patrols. Whenever the treeline broke for a field or house, Alya would wait. When she was sure there were no close guards she would step out of the forest and join a small group of migrants or walk behind a caravan. The day was not warm, so she did not look out of place among other travelers, covered in cloaks and scarves and hats, as she headed towards the outskirts of town.
It took her another week, outside the city walls, to find a copy of the note promising vengeance and rebellion. She had spent the days sleeping on roofs and her nights avoiding the guards and investigating the rumour. After all her careful searching, she received the note by chance. She had woken in the late evening, the setting sun in her eyes, and she pulled herself out of the makeshift shelter of wooden boards she had made on the guardhouse roof. It had been the perfect hiding spot, though not very comfortable. Guards rarely looked up, and they felt no safer than in their own way station, right outside the city. There was some commotion from the street and Alya peered over the edge of the building. A wagon blocked the entrance to the city, and many guards were arguing with the merchant and his servants. Alya climbed down the side of the building, and threw her hood over her head. A crowd gathered, some stuck in line trying to enter the city, others simply watching the show. Alya watched as a small boy slid through the throng, checking a coinpurse here, cutting the strings to a satchel there. He came near, and started when he saw Alya staring at him. He leaned in, and whispered, "Yous an elf?"
Surprised, both at his words and his un-thieflike behaviour, she nodded. He bowed to her solemnly. "Not many elves come to town. Not ever, and not since the Darkness came, my grandpappy said, and he was a half-elf. They kilt him." By the venom in his voice, Alya knew that he meant the Darkness, Gansend's forces, when he said they. He continued, his face scrunched up, "I wanna fight, but my mam would be alone if I died. There's only one reason for an elf to come to this town." He thrust a piece of parchment in her hand as a cry rang out from the other side of the group. One of his victims had noticed that his pocket was lighter. The boy gave her a grin, though tears shined in his eyes as he took off down a side street, and Alya retreated to her perch on the building. She lay low for the rest of the evening, the guards were on high alert, and contemplated the note and its contents.
The moon was high, and she had spent the last two hours trying to decide how to get through the wall and into the city when she saw a figure slowly ascend the wall. The guards, as always, didn't look up, and he made it to the top safely. To her surprise, another figure ascended - not at the same location, but not far removed. It was not likely a coincidence, but Alya did not have experience climbing stone, and even climbing the guardhouse building had been difficult. Descending from her hideaway, she took the alleyways, away from patrols, until she reached the wall. Putting her hand against the cold stone, she shivered. A quiet rasping sound made her look down. A fat rat crawled out of the sewer, some bit of food in his mouth. Silently, she reached down to touch him.
Moments later she scraped her shoulders against the sides of the sewer hole. The rat told her this was the smallest part, that it would open up soon, but still the bile rose in Alya's throat as she squirmed through the passage. When she reached the other side, thick iron bars blocked her way. Long ago some street urchin, or maybe an escaped prisoner, had managed to remove one of the bars. It was just enough space for Alya to slide through. The other side opened to a deep sewer, filled with sludge and water from the recent rain. She had planned to travel through the sewer passages, using the rat as a guide, until she reached the inn, but the rat's thoughts had not prepared her for the stench. The smell was overpowering, and against her better judgment, she found the closest sewer grate, shoved it aside, and pulled herself out. Fortunately, there were no guards around, but she had made enough noise to attract some if any were nearby. Alya quickly replaced the grate and slipped into the shadows to get her bearings.
A city at night is never quiet, no more than a forest. There is always a predator and prey out in the darkness. She heard a woman cry out, and the sounds of fighting, and stayed far away. The noise of a city was unfamiliar to Alya, and she was unsure where to go, but the note had given her enough detail that she found the tavern, only getting lost in the dark streets once. Still dripping in sewer water, and smelling less than fragrant, she approached the doorway. A light shone through a crack in the barred window. Quietly, she knocked three times, then twice more.
OOC Notes
After surveying every thing in the bar, Mannix moved forward to the liquor cabinate. He sat down two seats from the goblin who was obviously injured. He waited silently for the bartender to finish with the other patrons. He heard the girl, her voice was had given her away nomatter how low she tried to make it, ask the barkeep "Are the streets of this city always so busy during a lockdown?” He looked over to her and saw that she was now in an almost battle ready stance. He had not sense any danger nearby, was she looking to start trouble? He mentally prepared himself for any trouble that could be on its way, his muscels slowly began to tense up under his loose robe.
As he waited and watched the people in the bar he sat and thought to himself, How odd indeed that the tavern should have so many patrons during a military lock-down. Perhaps it is not a coincidence that we are all here after all. After a few moments he heard three knocks on the door followed by two. A code perhaps? He waited to see what would happen.
As he waited and watched the people in the bar he sat and thought to himself, How odd indeed that the tavern should have so many patrons during a military lock-down. Perhaps it is not a coincidence that we are all here after all. After a few moments he heard three knocks on the door followed by two. A code perhaps? He waited to see what would happen.
OOC Notes
Vesica turns her gaze from the goblin as the front entrance opens yet again, a third man crossing the threshold into an ever-growing party within the pub. This man seemed different from the others, his clothing outlandish and worn. She recognized the patterns immediately from those that the monks of Jarok wore. Had he come all this way just to visit? Or had he gotten the message? Thus far, no one who had come into the tavern had used the secret knock outlined in the message. If they had forgotten, they certainly didn't act as though they were there for any specific purpose. Then again, it could just as easily be that all whom were present had simply found their way here, by chance. Would it be safe, then, for their meeting to continue? Regardless, she was certain that someone would answer the call. She raises her hand to gesture at the newcomer. "Evening, sir! Be right with you in a minute!"
At least, she hoped someone would..
Jack's face changes, slightly, his smile drooping ever so slightly. Had circumstances been any different, the lad's question would have seemed perfectly normal; however, given what he knew, now, it showed up a big red flag in his mind. In spite of this, Jack does his best to seem unaware of any misgivings. As he hears the man who had just enter ask the exact same question, he speaks loudly so that both can hear him. "Well, uh.. I can't rightly say, seeing as we've never had one, before. I'll just fetch you that ale in a.." He stops mid-sentence as he hears an odd knock on the front entrance door. Turning his head, he squints at the doorway and wonders why they hadn't just gone ahead and entered.
What could it be, now?
Vesica nearly leaps over the counter as she hears the knock at the door. She raises her right hand, palm outward as Jack turns towards the door. "Wait..! Uh.." She looks around the room, hoping that she hadn't alerted anyone, the goblin sitting in front of her, in particular. "Uh.. let me get that for you, huh?" She smiles as pleasantly as she can as she walks from around the counter, glancing over at the goblin before she moves away. "Be right back, do try and stay off that foot!" In a calm, measured pace, she strides towards the front door, stopping for a moment as she reaches it to smooth out her clothing, hiding the fact that her left hand was resting on the pommel of one of her daggers. Can't be too careful.. She grasps the handle of the door and pulls it open, slightly. "Hello, can I-" She gags, slightly, as the foul stench of elf's clothing assails her nostrils. "Ohh.. can I <ack!> help you?" She only barely manages to catch a glimpse of the elf through her blurred vision.
At least, she hoped someone would..
Jack's face changes, slightly, his smile drooping ever so slightly. Had circumstances been any different, the lad's question would have seemed perfectly normal; however, given what he knew, now, it showed up a big red flag in his mind. In spite of this, Jack does his best to seem unaware of any misgivings. As he hears the man who had just enter ask the exact same question, he speaks loudly so that both can hear him. "Well, uh.. I can't rightly say, seeing as we've never had one, before. I'll just fetch you that ale in a.." He stops mid-sentence as he hears an odd knock on the front entrance door. Turning his head, he squints at the doorway and wonders why they hadn't just gone ahead and entered.
What could it be, now?
Vesica nearly leaps over the counter as she hears the knock at the door. She raises her right hand, palm outward as Jack turns towards the door. "Wait..! Uh.." She looks around the room, hoping that she hadn't alerted anyone, the goblin sitting in front of her, in particular. "Uh.. let me get that for you, huh?" She smiles as pleasantly as she can as she walks from around the counter, glancing over at the goblin before she moves away. "Be right back, do try and stay off that foot!" In a calm, measured pace, she strides towards the front door, stopping for a moment as she reaches it to smooth out her clothing, hiding the fact that her left hand was resting on the pommel of one of her daggers. Can't be too careful.. She grasps the handle of the door and pulls it open, slightly. "Hello, can I-" She gags, slightly, as the foul stench of elf's clothing assails her nostrils. "Ohh.. can I <ack!> help you?" She only barely manages to catch a glimpse of the elf through her blurred vision.
OOC Notes
Judging from the barkeeps reaction to her question, her impression was correct. Something was going on here. Then it dawned on her. Could this little meeting be a part of the so called “rebellion” she had heard of? Rumors had circulated for years in Syneslet of secret meetings of young warriors, who, after seeing their world brought to ruin and dissatisfied with the weakness of others were gathering and planning to, one day rise up, overthrow the Darkness and send Gansend back to the hell from which he came. Of course nothing of the sort ever happened. Yet her father had spoken once or twice, in her memory, of discovering small groups of young warriors holding secret meetings. He did not go into detail of their punishment, choosing instead to spare his young daughter the certainty of nightmares. As it turned out, he had only delayed the inevitable.
As Naomi glanced again from one to the other she caught the robe man, sitting near the goblin, staring at her. She did not like to be stared at but chose to ignore him. She wanted no part of a quarrel with anyone, not tonight. If Tirisfeld was to be her new home she wanted to live here in peace for as long as possible, besides she tried never to underestimate even the most peaceful looking man, for hidden within could hide an agent of the Darkness. Removing her hand from the hilt of her rapier she placed it on the edge of the table, in plain sight. She would wait and see. Then the knocks came. Three, quickly followed by two. And with that confirmation she leaned back and crossed her arms.
“Now this should be interesting.” She thought.
If these poor souls knew that the daughter of a nobleman, and that nobleman a Derelict who served Overlord Fodrn himself, was sitting amongst them, they would kill her without a seconds thought. Surely this meeting was not by chance and for a moment she wondered if fate had set her down here in this most unlikely of places so she could find answers to her most driving questions and possibly; her freedom. For, after all she had learned and all she had witnessed in her young life, the only thing left to her was a tiny sliver of hope hidden somewhere in the dark recesses of her heart. Hope that, one day, her families name would be spoken with pride and she would be free from the Darkness that, in two years time, would surely come to claim her.
For that reason and for that reason alone, she would listen to what these young adventures had to say and decide accordingly.
As Naomi glanced again from one to the other she caught the robe man, sitting near the goblin, staring at her. She did not like to be stared at but chose to ignore him. She wanted no part of a quarrel with anyone, not tonight. If Tirisfeld was to be her new home she wanted to live here in peace for as long as possible, besides she tried never to underestimate even the most peaceful looking man, for hidden within could hide an agent of the Darkness. Removing her hand from the hilt of her rapier she placed it on the edge of the table, in plain sight. She would wait and see. Then the knocks came. Three, quickly followed by two. And with that confirmation she leaned back and crossed her arms.
“Now this should be interesting.” She thought.
If these poor souls knew that the daughter of a nobleman, and that nobleman a Derelict who served Overlord Fodrn himself, was sitting amongst them, they would kill her without a seconds thought. Surely this meeting was not by chance and for a moment she wondered if fate had set her down here in this most unlikely of places so she could find answers to her most driving questions and possibly; her freedom. For, after all she had learned and all she had witnessed in her young life, the only thing left to her was a tiny sliver of hope hidden somewhere in the dark recesses of her heart. Hope that, one day, her families name would be spoken with pride and she would be free from the Darkness that, in two years time, would surely come to claim her.
For that reason and for that reason alone, she would listen to what these young adventures had to say and decide accordingly.
OOC Notes
Wishing to remain calm and without any unnecessary attention being paid to this tavern where, for the first time in longer than he could remember, Scrabrokk could relax, he decided not to retort to the lad's offer of buying his drink. Instead he growled inwardly, eyes twitching with anger and fists clenching with irritation. He held his tongue as the barkeep started engaging in conversation with the boy and the woman attempted to do the same with him.
"The drink..." He plucked the diamond from the bar between two claws and held it out. "... Will be purchased by myself. And the bandages should be made ready for the boy in the corner, lest he forget to still his tongue."
As the woman set about fetching his order the door opened again. It seemed the Goblin's instincts had been correct, this was indeed set to be a place where he could gather some information. So far all he knew from the note he had obtained was to look for a drinking hole in Tirisfeld, was it possible he had stumbled upon it by sheer chance on the very night he was supposed to? He had made haste to be here as soon as he could, that was true, but he had not been raised to believe in fate or divine intervention and so his hopes were not raised as the solemn looking human (Another human he thought bitterly) took a seat near him on the bar and set about staring at the boy in the corner. Apparently he would be making few friends this evening. The thought was comforting. That was until a suspicious knock came at the door and his hand fell away from the bar, dropping the diamond to rattle on the wood there, to rest on the hilt of his mace.
It seemed he would never get a drink at this rate and as Scrabrokk contemplated unsheathing his weapon and embedding it in the bar to make a point he became distracted by the urgency with which the woman ran to the door to greet whoever may have been on the other side. When the door was pulled open and the newcomer was revealed Scrabrokk did something he had not done in a very long time. He laughed.
It was an elf, coated in more than just a cloak, who darkened the doorstep, that much was clear by the stench that even the outcast Goblin found slightly nauseating.
"Rrraaaahaaahaa!" The sound could be likened more to a pained death rattle than a laugh but the grin on the Goblin's face, sinister though it was, gave away the humorous nature of the situation as he saw it. "M- My Father always said he wouldn't crap on an elf to save it's wretched life!" He leant back and loosed another onslaught of scratchy laughter. "I guess he didn't need to!" With that he turned back to the bar and set about smashing the base of his fist on the worktop as fits of laughter shook his body.
"You..." More laughter. "You elves will hide anywhere, won't you!"
So perhaps it wasn't the most sophisticated of humour but by Goblin standards it was funny and it was a very rare occurance to see a Goblin laugh at all, let alone upon a first meeting. Needless to say, those who saw it didn't exactly feel privileged, especially as the raucous sounds began to subside to a whined whistling as Scrabrokk's lungs failed to cope with the strange activity they were being put through.
"The drink..." He plucked the diamond from the bar between two claws and held it out. "... Will be purchased by myself. And the bandages should be made ready for the boy in the corner, lest he forget to still his tongue."
As the woman set about fetching his order the door opened again. It seemed the Goblin's instincts had been correct, this was indeed set to be a place where he could gather some information. So far all he knew from the note he had obtained was to look for a drinking hole in Tirisfeld, was it possible he had stumbled upon it by sheer chance on the very night he was supposed to? He had made haste to be here as soon as he could, that was true, but he had not been raised to believe in fate or divine intervention and so his hopes were not raised as the solemn looking human (Another human he thought bitterly) took a seat near him on the bar and set about staring at the boy in the corner. Apparently he would be making few friends this evening. The thought was comforting. That was until a suspicious knock came at the door and his hand fell away from the bar, dropping the diamond to rattle on the wood there, to rest on the hilt of his mace.
It seemed he would never get a drink at this rate and as Scrabrokk contemplated unsheathing his weapon and embedding it in the bar to make a point he became distracted by the urgency with which the woman ran to the door to greet whoever may have been on the other side. When the door was pulled open and the newcomer was revealed Scrabrokk did something he had not done in a very long time. He laughed.
It was an elf, coated in more than just a cloak, who darkened the doorstep, that much was clear by the stench that even the outcast Goblin found slightly nauseating.
"Rrraaaahaaahaa!" The sound could be likened more to a pained death rattle than a laugh but the grin on the Goblin's face, sinister though it was, gave away the humorous nature of the situation as he saw it. "M- My Father always said he wouldn't crap on an elf to save it's wretched life!" He leant back and loosed another onslaught of scratchy laughter. "I guess he didn't need to!" With that he turned back to the bar and set about smashing the base of his fist on the worktop as fits of laughter shook his body.
"You..." More laughter. "You elves will hide anywhere, won't you!"
So perhaps it wasn't the most sophisticated of humour but by Goblin standards it was funny and it was a very rare occurance to see a Goblin laugh at all, let alone upon a first meeting. Needless to say, those who saw it didn't exactly feel privileged, especially as the raucous sounds began to subside to a whined whistling as Scrabrokk's lungs failed to cope with the strange activity they were being put through.
OOC Notes
Alya grimaced as she stepped into the room. There was quite a gathering, and the young blonde woman who answered her knock didn't seem to be surprised at her appearance. Though from the way she recoiled from the elf, Alya hoped it was only the stench. She took a quick look around the room. There were five in the tavern with her, and they all looked uncomfortable.
"Rrraaaahaaahaa!" A raspy voice rang out. At the bar, near a human man, was a goblin, who may have been in a fight that day, his face was bloody and bruised. The goblin grinned at Alya in a grotesque imitation of human-like behaviour. "M- My Father always said he wouldn't crap on an elf to save it's wretched life!" He laughed again. "I guess he didn't need to!" He turned back to the bar and slammed his fist to the bar "You...You elves will hide anywhere, won't you!"
Alya watched as the goblin's laugh turning to a wheeze. Her face was blank, indifferent on the outside, but her mind churning. There were tales of battle between goblin and elf, just as there were tales of hostilities with humans, or even the dwarves. But those battles were fought before the Darkness came. No goblin had murdered her mother, no goblin had betrayed her father. She held no hatred or love of the creatures. But, was he here in rebellion, or just for a drink? Was he fighting for the Darkness, against it? It was unusual for a goblin would come into a human town, just as rare for an elf. She was hesitant to proclaim her loyalties - or lack of, to this mixed group. Alya hadn't meant to make an entrance, but it was too late. Some looked at her in confusion, or suspicion. A young man in the corner held his sword in his lap. She might have interrupted something more sinister, or more mundane even, as she found that humans fought each other quite regularly for no good reason. Perhaps the knock was unwarranted. She should have waited, investigated the area, but she did not know these man-made things, and streets were so foreign to her. The stone walls, the closeness of the buildings confused her, and hindered her judgment.
Struggling to keep from lashing out in her disorientation, to keep her face calm, to keep from submitting to the animal within, she shrugged off the thick brown cloak. "Sorry for the smell." Turning to the woman who opened the door she assumed was the owner or innkeep, and placed two small coins in her hand, surreptitiously handing her the folded piece of parchment too. "Is there a room and some water? It doesn't need to be hot. I don't want to disturb any of your patrons."
"Rrraaaahaaahaa!" A raspy voice rang out. At the bar, near a human man, was a goblin, who may have been in a fight that day, his face was bloody and bruised. The goblin grinned at Alya in a grotesque imitation of human-like behaviour. "M- My Father always said he wouldn't crap on an elf to save it's wretched life!" He laughed again. "I guess he didn't need to!" He turned back to the bar and slammed his fist to the bar "You...You elves will hide anywhere, won't you!"
Alya watched as the goblin's laugh turning to a wheeze. Her face was blank, indifferent on the outside, but her mind churning. There were tales of battle between goblin and elf, just as there were tales of hostilities with humans, or even the dwarves. But those battles were fought before the Darkness came. No goblin had murdered her mother, no goblin had betrayed her father. She held no hatred or love of the creatures. But, was he here in rebellion, or just for a drink? Was he fighting for the Darkness, against it? It was unusual for a goblin would come into a human town, just as rare for an elf. She was hesitant to proclaim her loyalties - or lack of, to this mixed group. Alya hadn't meant to make an entrance, but it was too late. Some looked at her in confusion, or suspicion. A young man in the corner held his sword in his lap. She might have interrupted something more sinister, or more mundane even, as she found that humans fought each other quite regularly for no good reason. Perhaps the knock was unwarranted. She should have waited, investigated the area, but she did not know these man-made things, and streets were so foreign to her. The stone walls, the closeness of the buildings confused her, and hindered her judgment.
Struggling to keep from lashing out in her disorientation, to keep her face calm, to keep from submitting to the animal within, she shrugged off the thick brown cloak. "Sorry for the smell." Turning to the woman who opened the door she assumed was the owner or innkeep, and placed two small coins in her hand, surreptitiously handing her the folded piece of parchment too. "Is there a room and some water? It doesn't need to be hot. I don't want to disturb any of your patrons."
OOC Notes
An elf? Though she did smell bad and the goblin's joke (though crude) did make a point, what was even more curious was that she had entered the city at all. Then there was the goblin himself, a battle hardened warrior who blatantly laughed at anyone. It was strange that he would be here as well. The girl hiding in the shadows in the corner was also a warrior of some sort. He imagined seeing himself as well, armed with dual swords and a staff, having obviously traveled from a long ways away. The people in the bar, exept the goblin who was too busy laughing himself into a fit, were busy looking at everyone else in plain suspicion.
He looked at the girl who had answered the door and the bartender. They both looked extremely anxious. Then the truth dawned on him, all of them (except the bartender, of course) were all warriors of some sort and all had probably recieved the same note. He even recognised the knock and mentally chided himself for not using it himself. He waited for the goblin's laughter to die down and for the door to be closed behind the elf before he spoke for the first time. "It may just be me...but are we not all here for the same reason? Why must we all go through this charade?" He looked around, ready to defend himself but fairly confident that he would have nothing to worry about.
He looked at the girl who had answered the door and the bartender. They both looked extremely anxious. Then the truth dawned on him, all of them (except the bartender, of course) were all warriors of some sort and all had probably recieved the same note. He even recognised the knock and mentally chided himself for not using it himself. He waited for the goblin's laughter to die down and for the door to be closed behind the elf before he spoke for the first time. "It may just be me...but are we not all here for the same reason? Why must we all go through this charade?" He looked around, ready to defend himself but fairly confident that he would have nothing to worry about.
OOC Notes
Things began to get even more interesting when the young woman, (the tavern owners daughter perhaps?), practically leaped from behind the bar to answer the strange knock at the door. Judging from the stench that reached even Naomi’s nose, the person now entering had been in the sewers. Now what, she asked herself, would drive a person to crawl through the stench of human excrement long enough to come up smelling as if they lived there? A desperate person. And for an Elf, who were known for their cleanliness to do so, well, the desperation must be keen indeed.
Naomi watched as the Goblin launched into a fit of insults and choking laughter. Elves and Goblins in the same room together. With their weapons still sheathed. Now that was different. The tension in the room was building to the breaking point and, just as Naomi was growing certain her first night of freedom was about to end in bloodshed, the robed man spoke up.
“…are we not all here for the same reason? Why must we all go through this charade?” He said, looking directly at Naomi.
She frowned slightly but remained in the shadows, leaning against the wall with her legs on the table. She blinked slowly and dropped her gaze. The silver coin lay where it had fallen. The dim light of the room dimmed even more as her dark eyes dilated. Her hand rose instinctively toward her chest and then up to brush a lock of hair aside her ear. A mournful hum rose in her brain. She did not wish to kill the innocent any longer. Time elongated and she blinked again, slower. She heard familiar words echo in her ear. Words she had heard years ago. Words spoken by her father. She felt herself stand and move towards the door. Time seemed to stand still. Every face frozen. Every word cut short. The Goblin’s face contorted in laughter. The young woman’s eyes wide with anticipation. The young Elf apologetic. The barkeep near to panic and the robed man waiting, wanting answers.
Naomi reached the door, locked and bared it, dropping the heavy wood bar into the iron hooks. Then she turned and leaned back against the door. She blinked again as her father’s words pounded in her ears.
“Every revolution starts with a single act.” She heard herself say.
Time snapped back into the real and the room fell into complete and utter silence. Every face frozen by some emotion; be it fear, anticipation, frustration or anger, but it was clear they were there, all of them, for one reason.
Freedom.
Naomi watched as the Goblin launched into a fit of insults and choking laughter. Elves and Goblins in the same room together. With their weapons still sheathed. Now that was different. The tension in the room was building to the breaking point and, just as Naomi was growing certain her first night of freedom was about to end in bloodshed, the robed man spoke up.
“…are we not all here for the same reason? Why must we all go through this charade?” He said, looking directly at Naomi.
She frowned slightly but remained in the shadows, leaning against the wall with her legs on the table. She blinked slowly and dropped her gaze. The silver coin lay where it had fallen. The dim light of the room dimmed even more as her dark eyes dilated. Her hand rose instinctively toward her chest and then up to brush a lock of hair aside her ear. A mournful hum rose in her brain. She did not wish to kill the innocent any longer. Time elongated and she blinked again, slower. She heard familiar words echo in her ear. Words she had heard years ago. Words spoken by her father. She felt herself stand and move towards the door. Time seemed to stand still. Every face frozen. Every word cut short. The Goblin’s face contorted in laughter. The young woman’s eyes wide with anticipation. The young Elf apologetic. The barkeep near to panic and the robed man waiting, wanting answers.
Naomi reached the door, locked and bared it, dropping the heavy wood bar into the iron hooks. Then she turned and leaned back against the door. She blinked again as her father’s words pounded in her ears.
“Every revolution starts with a single act.” She heard herself say.
Time snapped back into the real and the room fell into complete and utter silence. Every face frozen by some emotion; be it fear, anticipation, frustration or anger, but it was clear they were there, all of them, for one reason.
Freedom.
OOC Notes
The raucous laughter of the goblin would not go unnoticed; though the tavern was well built, with walls designed to keep noise trapped within, the harsh laughter would contrast sharply with the dead silence of the streets, outside. As it happened, had Scrabrokk chosen to have his outburst a few moments later or sooner.. the guards would have been none the wiser. As the pair of soldiers walked past the tavern, the one closest to the door would pause, leaving his partner to walk a few strides ahead before taking notice. "'Ere.. what's this then, Roland?" The second guard, Roland, would remain standing, his gaze focused on the door. "D'you 'ear that..?" The slightly larger man shifts uncomfortably, eyeing the tavern from where he stood. "'Ear what? Nuffin outside, tonight, save for the rats and the one sod what was murdered down the street, a ways.."
"But I 'eard sumfin'.. sounded like.. I dunno what it sounded like, but it sounded sumfin' awful."
"Probably imagin'in it, mate. Them Wraiths got you all twisted, they do."
"No! I'm tellin' you, sumfin's goin on in there!"
As the man finishes his statement, the sound of a large bolt being cast across the door would sound; a rasping metal-on-wood grate, which reaches both men's ears.
The men exchange glances. "D'you 'ere THAT, stone ears?"
The tension of the room had risen, considerably. Vesica's eyes moved back and forth around the tavern, resting on each person's face for a moment, each. The monk had said what was on all of their minds, most likely, but the risk he was taking would result in a heavy price for all involved, were he wrong. He was placing a considerably large wager on a hunch, and she didn't like it.. by her accounts, there were now two people present who were, without a doubt, with the rebellion, not including herself. The elf had been the first confirmed in her mind; not only had she been the only one to use the knock specified in the note, but she had also gone through much hardship to get here. No agent of Gansend would have had to hide in a sewer to move about the city.
The second had been the monk, who's actions spoke louder than the words he followed them up with. Counting Vesica, there were now three present who were with the rebellion, for certain. Should the other two cause trouble.. and she sorely hoped they didn't, she was somewhat confident that they could be overpowered. As the young man rises from his seat in the corner and begins making his way towards her, she takes an involuntary step backwards, her left hand dropping to her dagger again, in as inconspicuous a manner as possible. Was he friend? Foe? Would he leave the tavern and report the monk, as well as everyone else present? Would he dare take them all by himself? Her breath catches as the young man continues towards her, and she prepares, mentally, for what had to be done. Jack's gaze follows his path, as well, his features blank, while what little color he maintained in his face was draining. Just as the man draws within striking distance, he turns, his hand moving to grasp the heavy wooden bar that was used to lock up the tavern. Vesica stands motionless as he drops it into the waiting hooks, effectively locking them all inside.
As he speaks his piece, Vesica comes to a fast realization. A woman! In her haste to seal the door and in the heat of the moment, presumably, the woman had forgotten to disguise her voice, speaking with a clear feminine air that betrayed her appearance as false and misleading. Vesica remains motionless, her eyes traveling all around the tavern.
That makes three.. which left Scrabrokk. Would the goblin also show his allegiances, as the others had? What was his role to play, in all of this?
"But I 'eard sumfin'.. sounded like.. I dunno what it sounded like, but it sounded sumfin' awful."
"Probably imagin'in it, mate. Them Wraiths got you all twisted, they do."
"No! I'm tellin' you, sumfin's goin on in there!"
As the man finishes his statement, the sound of a large bolt being cast across the door would sound; a rasping metal-on-wood grate, which reaches both men's ears.
The men exchange glances. "D'you 'ere THAT, stone ears?"
The tension of the room had risen, considerably. Vesica's eyes moved back and forth around the tavern, resting on each person's face for a moment, each. The monk had said what was on all of their minds, most likely, but the risk he was taking would result in a heavy price for all involved, were he wrong. He was placing a considerably large wager on a hunch, and she didn't like it.. by her accounts, there were now two people present who were, without a doubt, with the rebellion, not including herself. The elf had been the first confirmed in her mind; not only had she been the only one to use the knock specified in the note, but she had also gone through much hardship to get here. No agent of Gansend would have had to hide in a sewer to move about the city.
The second had been the monk, who's actions spoke louder than the words he followed them up with. Counting Vesica, there were now three present who were with the rebellion, for certain. Should the other two cause trouble.. and she sorely hoped they didn't, she was somewhat confident that they could be overpowered. As the young man rises from his seat in the corner and begins making his way towards her, she takes an involuntary step backwards, her left hand dropping to her dagger again, in as inconspicuous a manner as possible. Was he friend? Foe? Would he leave the tavern and report the monk, as well as everyone else present? Would he dare take them all by himself? Her breath catches as the young man continues towards her, and she prepares, mentally, for what had to be done. Jack's gaze follows his path, as well, his features blank, while what little color he maintained in his face was draining. Just as the man draws within striking distance, he turns, his hand moving to grasp the heavy wooden bar that was used to lock up the tavern. Vesica stands motionless as he drops it into the waiting hooks, effectively locking them all inside.
As he speaks his piece, Vesica comes to a fast realization. A woman! In her haste to seal the door and in the heat of the moment, presumably, the woman had forgotten to disguise her voice, speaking with a clear feminine air that betrayed her appearance as false and misleading. Vesica remains motionless, her eyes traveling all around the tavern.
That makes three.. which left Scrabrokk. Would the goblin also show his allegiances, as the others had? What was his role to play, in all of this?
OOC Notes
As the elf stepped into the room and the novelty started wearing off when she made no reply (Scrabrokk's attention span was not the greatest when it came to matters that didn't involve fighting), the atmosphere in the room started taking a turn for the different. Eyes started meeting and everybody seemed suspicious of each other. Rightly so, thought the Goblin, this was the strangest assortment of creatures he could imagine in the same room. Taking no heed of the events as they started to unfurl he returned his attention to behind the bar and waited for his service, impatiently drumming his claws on the bar.
But he had not long to wait for something else to distract his focus from quenching his thirst. The man nearby spoke up and made vocal his thoughts that they were all here for the same reason and the rusty cogs in Scrabrokk's head started turning. By the time the lad in the corner made his way to the door and barred it the Goblin had already come to the conclusion that he had inadvertantly stumbled across the place he was searching for without knowing exactly where it was. At last, some luck.
The Goblin slowly turned around in his seat and found more than one pair of eyes on him, waiting for a sign that he wasn't there for any other reason. Even if he had been he would have lied. Scrabrokk wasn't the brightest but he was far from a fool. Even he knew the odds were stacked against him but he had his proof. So with a smile that should have been reserved for the damned in the lowest levels of hell he reached around behind him and pulled from his leather pouch the piece of parchment he had gathered so many miles from here and held it up between two gnarled nails. It had clearly seen as many long nights and fights as the Goblin had and bore almost as many scars. The edges were frayed and torn, almost a whole half was missing and a sinister, dark stain had spread to create a rough circle around a small hole near the centre.
The parchment fell to the ground in an arc and landed text side up, making clear that it was the same as any other that may be in anyone's posession, though it held fewer details. It seemed pure chance had led him to the correct place at the correct time.
"The drink, woman, if you would. I've killed for worse than the swill you serve here and I grow impatient with human dramatics."
With that said Scrabrokk leant back against the bar and started taking an interest in those around him. If they were all indeed here for the purpose of rebellion then he would weight them up individually as warriors. What he saw was a group of humans and an elf with hardly a scar between them. They were either gifted fighters who sustained no injury or they were fresh from the training ground. He would find out soon enough.
But he had not long to wait for something else to distract his focus from quenching his thirst. The man nearby spoke up and made vocal his thoughts that they were all here for the same reason and the rusty cogs in Scrabrokk's head started turning. By the time the lad in the corner made his way to the door and barred it the Goblin had already come to the conclusion that he had inadvertantly stumbled across the place he was searching for without knowing exactly where it was. At last, some luck.
The Goblin slowly turned around in his seat and found more than one pair of eyes on him, waiting for a sign that he wasn't there for any other reason. Even if he had been he would have lied. Scrabrokk wasn't the brightest but he was far from a fool. Even he knew the odds were stacked against him but he had his proof. So with a smile that should have been reserved for the damned in the lowest levels of hell he reached around behind him and pulled from his leather pouch the piece of parchment he had gathered so many miles from here and held it up between two gnarled nails. It had clearly seen as many long nights and fights as the Goblin had and bore almost as many scars. The edges were frayed and torn, almost a whole half was missing and a sinister, dark stain had spread to create a rough circle around a small hole near the centre.
The parchment fell to the ground in an arc and landed text side up, making clear that it was the same as any other that may be in anyone's posession, though it held fewer details. It seemed pure chance had led him to the correct place at the correct time.
"The drink, woman, if you would. I've killed for worse than the swill you serve here and I grow impatient with human dramatics."
With that said Scrabrokk leant back against the bar and started taking an interest in those around him. If they were all indeed here for the purpose of rebellion then he would weight them up individually as warriors. What he saw was a group of humans and an elf with hardly a scar between them. They were either gifted fighters who sustained no injury or they were fresh from the training ground. He would find out soon enough.
OOC Notes
As Naomi returned to her table in the corner, she could feel enough raw emotion in the room for a dozen individuals, regardless of race, to emit. Perhaps her new friends were not aware that there were creatures out there in the night, dark, fell-creatures; creatures that served the Overlords and were drawn to strong emotions. Seekers, she called them or Enforcers, it didn’t matter what name they wore, her visions and nightmares had been full of them and, even though she was not certain they actually existed, she wanted no confirmation that they did.
Reaching her table she turned her back to the room and lifted, from under her doublet, a small blue vial attached to a cord round her neck. She quickly pulled the cork and merely touched the rim of the vial to her tongue. Replacing the cork she returned it to its former place under her doublet. Instantly a sense of clarity washed over her. Her heartbeat slowed. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The tension in her body vanished, replaced by a lightness of mind. Her focus became acute as did her hearing. Turning, she tugged the belt holding her rapier and dagger, shifted it more to the side and sat down.
“A flagon of ale if you please, sir,” She requested as she leaned her chair back against the wall and lifted her legs once more to the table.
“I should like a drink or two to drown my hopes while I listen to how this ‘revolution’ intends to fail.”
Reaching her table she turned her back to the room and lifted, from under her doublet, a small blue vial attached to a cord round her neck. She quickly pulled the cork and merely touched the rim of the vial to her tongue. Replacing the cork she returned it to its former place under her doublet. Instantly a sense of clarity washed over her. Her heartbeat slowed. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The tension in her body vanished, replaced by a lightness of mind. Her focus became acute as did her hearing. Turning, she tugged the belt holding her rapier and dagger, shifted it more to the side and sat down.
“A flagon of ale if you please, sir,” She requested as she leaned her chair back against the wall and lifted her legs once more to the table.
“I should like a drink or two to drown my hopes while I listen to how this ‘revolution’ intends to fail.”
OOC Notes
He was right. Though he had had little doubt that he was. Mannix listened as both the goblin and the girl who had locked the door began to speak. The goblin wanted a drink, of course. But his eyebrows raised when the girl said, “I should like a drink or two to drown my hopes while I listen to how this ‘revolution’ intends to fail.” He was surprised. He wondered at this girl who at one second put herself completely forward for this revolution and then at the next claimed that it was going to fail.
He examined the group. Yes, it was quite small but there also seemed to be quite a lot of vigor and charisma in a few of the people there. They couldn't fight the darkness alone...perhaps the better idea would be to unite all of Alva's people together under one banner. He imagined an army of that proportion taking on the combined might of Gansends forces and shuddered. While they commanded the troops in the background, the bloodshed would be incomprehendable. He could not see the good in letting hundreds of thousands die. What if there was a better way?
He thought some more and remembered how he had entered the city. He also imagined how the elf had entered the city and began to think. They could be rice-paper-silent and stage a behind the scenes coup. If they could convince the human guards and other higher ups who had not yet succumbed to the darkness to join them then the bloodshed might be minimal though the revolutionists here would most certainly lose their lives. He could accept that, but he doubted that these people would agree with an idea that would most likely cost them their lives.
He considered every possible move they could make, like an extremely gifted chess player expecting what moves their enemies would make. As he thought, he remained completely silent. Occasionally he would inspect someone in the room, staring at them for a short time before going back to his inward thinking. Always, the thought on his mind was the greater good and the best way to handle their situation.
He examined the group. Yes, it was quite small but there also seemed to be quite a lot of vigor and charisma in a few of the people there. They couldn't fight the darkness alone...perhaps the better idea would be to unite all of Alva's people together under one banner. He imagined an army of that proportion taking on the combined might of Gansends forces and shuddered. While they commanded the troops in the background, the bloodshed would be incomprehendable. He could not see the good in letting hundreds of thousands die. What if there was a better way?
He thought some more and remembered how he had entered the city. He also imagined how the elf had entered the city and began to think. They could be rice-paper-silent and stage a behind the scenes coup. If they could convince the human guards and other higher ups who had not yet succumbed to the darkness to join them then the bloodshed might be minimal though the revolutionists here would most certainly lose their lives. He could accept that, but he doubted that these people would agree with an idea that would most likely cost them their lives.
He considered every possible move they could make, like an extremely gifted chess player expecting what moves their enemies would make. As he thought, he remained completely silent. Occasionally he would inspect someone in the room, staring at them for a short time before going back to his inward thinking. Always, the thought on his mind was the greater good and the best way to handle their situation.
OOC Notes
The room was thick with emotions; distrust, curiosity, anticipation. It was almost too much for Alya. The stone walls felt too close, the people too near. Her months of solitude made her ill prepared for this meeting. Even over the stench of the sewers on her clothing, she could smell the humans and the goblin. Her nose twitched. The one human, she spoke of revolution, the called for its failure. The goblin seemed only to care for his drink, and seemed uninterested in the talk of revolting against the darkness that even threatened his own people. She could not help but to agree with his comment however; humans could be so overtly dramatic.
As she looked around the room, she realized how much of a bad idea it had been to come here. This was a trap, either purposeful, or simply waiting to happen. Fortunately, they did not know her name, did not know where she came from. Though she stood out now, if she escaped to the forest, she could as much as disappear within an hour. She swallowed thickly. She could not act like a trapped animal now, they may sense her need to flee, and they might restrain her, or alert the guards to her presence in the town. And they knew she had traveled through the sewers. If these people turned to be enemies, that exit would be blocked to her.
Alya examined the faces cautiously, and she noted that others were doing the same. She had to assume those that carried no obvious weapon were armed, and felt almost comforted by those who did carry their weapons openly, as she did with her sword. Her bow and arrows would be of no use in close quarters so she had left them behind, hidden in her rooftop retreat outside the city. She would have to tread carefully, here, and escape in secret. She slowly walked to the bar, leaving the heavy cloak on a peg near the door. Her shirt and boiled leather vest were relatively dry; they had been protected from the sewer by the cloak. The shirt was only slightly damp from her sweat from the exertion earlier that night.
Unfortunately, Alya’s boots squished slightly as she walked, and her pants, soaked by rainwater and sewer water, chafed at her legs. She ignored the uncomfortable feeling, and straddled a seat at the bar, feigning what she assumed was nonchalance, a very un-elven attitude, but perhaps the humans would not notice. Alya gestured to the man behind the bar. “We may all need a drink before the night is out. Though, as I don’t partake in fermented beverages, I would appreciate a cup of water.”
As she looked around the room, she realized how much of a bad idea it had been to come here. This was a trap, either purposeful, or simply waiting to happen. Fortunately, they did not know her name, did not know where she came from. Though she stood out now, if she escaped to the forest, she could as much as disappear within an hour. She swallowed thickly. She could not act like a trapped animal now, they may sense her need to flee, and they might restrain her, or alert the guards to her presence in the town. And they knew she had traveled through the sewers. If these people turned to be enemies, that exit would be blocked to her.
Alya examined the faces cautiously, and she noted that others were doing the same. She had to assume those that carried no obvious weapon were armed, and felt almost comforted by those who did carry their weapons openly, as she did with her sword. Her bow and arrows would be of no use in close quarters so she had left them behind, hidden in her rooftop retreat outside the city. She would have to tread carefully, here, and escape in secret. She slowly walked to the bar, leaving the heavy cloak on a peg near the door. Her shirt and boiled leather vest were relatively dry; they had been protected from the sewer by the cloak. The shirt was only slightly damp from her sweat from the exertion earlier that night.
Unfortunately, Alya’s boots squished slightly as she walked, and her pants, soaked by rainwater and sewer water, chafed at her legs. She ignored the uncomfortable feeling, and straddled a seat at the bar, feigning what she assumed was nonchalance, a very un-elven attitude, but perhaps the humans would not notice. Alya gestured to the man behind the bar. “We may all need a drink before the night is out. Though, as I don’t partake in fermented beverages, I would appreciate a cup of water.”
OOC Notes
Vesica sighs slightly, both in relief and in determination; it was clear that all present were here for the same thing.. to rid the world of their enemy, their oppressors, the Darkness. Everything else came second, including the showing of egos amongst the others. With a deep breath, Vesica would take a few steps forward, into the center of the room. Looking around, her eyes would alight upon each one of their faces for a few seconds before turning to look at Jack, who nodded solemnly, taking his leave as he walks slowly behind the counter. This wasn't his fight.. least ways, he wanted no part in whatever transpired, here. Instead, he would take out one of the many pint-glasses below the counter, picking up a nearby rag to begin cleaning the already-clean cup.
Vesica, meanwhile, stood tall and straight, clearing her throat before speaking. "We all know why we're here.. there's no need for further facade. Everyone present has received word of a new resistance.. of a new rebellion, and you've all found your way here, tonight, because you seek answers." She pauses, looking around. "Well, I'll tell you; the rumors are true." Taking a deep breath, Vesica continues. "I am the one who sent out the message, calling for any and all who were tired of Gansend's rule; tired of being slaves to Darkness, and to our own fears. We've waited ages for action to be taken, but no more! We're going to take action." The woman's eyes continue to move about the room as she speaks. "I've had to watch as my mother and father were taken from me; as my friends and their families have been mistreated and killed because of Gansend's cruelty. For my suffering, I have been rewarded with a resolve cast of iron.." Her eyes glass over, slightly, as a thin film of tears threaten to form. Her voice, however, remains strong and clear. "I ask you, now, if you're willing to do whatever it takes to see to it that this world is set to rights; that we stand up, reach out, and take what's rightfully ours, but not just for us," she shakes her head, her hair flowing behind her. ",but for everyone who has been forced to live a life of fear, and of poverty, and of injustice." She raises her hand, pointing to the ground at each declaration, for emphasis.
Jack pauses in his cleaning of the glass, his eyes upon Vesica. He had never known her conviction to be this strong. Perhaps she had grown up, after all..
"If any one of you here, tonight, is unwilling to do whatever it takes, no matter the circumstances, then I fear you've come all this way for naught.. for the rest of you, who are just as outraged as I, and who place civil liberties and freedoms above themselves, as I do.. stay. Stay, and I will tell you how we might bring back the old ways, and how we might destroy Darkness, once and for all." At this, Vesica lifts her right foot, hooking the bottom of a nearby chair as she draws it towards herself. In one swift motion, she unsheathes one of her daggers, it's pale blade shimmering in the dim firelight light for a moment before dropping to the table, the sharp point sinking into the grained wood as it's owner takes her seat, her arms folded across her chest. Even now, she struggled to keep the tears in her eyes from forming, her mouth set in a hard, unwavering line.
Now was the time to see whether or not this had all been worth the effort..
Meanwhile, just outside of the door..
The two guards stand close to the door, their breaths held as they listen in on what is transpiring within; neither one daring to say a word as Vesica delivers her speech. The larger and older of the two men gestures away from the door, then presses two of his fingers to his lips as an indication to stay quiet. Nodding, the younger guard follows him away from the door, moving quietly so as to avoid making noise.
Once they were out of immediate earshot of the tavern, the younger man speaks, quietly. "By the Light.. it's a down-roight rebellion, in'nere.." The older man nods solemnly. "A revolution.." The younger looks over at him. "Oi, we should report dis to someone, shouldn't we?"
"I'm not too sure, meself.."
"How d'ya mean?"
The older man inhales deeply, a weary sigh escaping his lips. "I dunno.. be kinda noice, wouldn't it..? No more Gansend, no more Wraiths, or fiends.. like the old days." The young man shakes his head. "Where's you 'ead at, mate? This is jus' another load of loons talkin' nonsense about 'revolution'. You don't actually fink they could pull it off, do ya?" For a long moment, the older man remains silent.
"The two of us are too young to remember, Roland.. how it used to be, before all 'dis mess.. but I was around some 'o da older folk, when they used to tell tales 'o de world and how it once was. Dey were fantastic tales, my friend.. you wouldn't have believed it if dey told ye. Green valleys, miles and miles of farmland, far as de eye could see.. elves dancing in the forest, singing- singing, Roland! -and all manner of great and fanciful 'fings.. I could never bring meself to believe dat we could ever go back to summin' like dat.. but I've never stopped wantin' it. Call it foolish, mate, I don't care.. I feel like Ijust gotta keep dat litte' bit of 'ope dat summin' can be done.."
Roland stands motionless, his tortured face hidden beneath his mask, for which he was grateful.. what the older man spoke of was treason, at best. But his words reflected a dream that nearly everyone shared; that there could be hope that Gansend could be brought down, somehow. By the time Roland had come into the world, the people had already lost hope.. no one could remember, or wanted to remember, how things used to be. Before he could say a word, though, there came a heavy footfall from somewhere in the shadows. Even as the two men turn towards the noise, a dark figure steps out from the shadows, followed closely by two figures.
Standing there, gleaming armor set aglow in the bright moonlight, were three Wraiths, bodies rigid and straight, their helmeted faces turned towards the two men, who both took involuntary steps backwards as the soul-less beings moved towards them. The Wraith at the head of the group was the first to speak, his voice low, emotionless, and metallic; unnatural in every way. His speech came in a slow drawl, almost as though he was straining the words into a hiss.
"Why.. are you men not at your posstss?"
Both men stood frozen in place, unable to speak. The Wraiths didn't flinch; didn't move an inch as they all stood in utter silence for what seemed, to Roland like an eternity. Finally, he spoke, his voice failing him, somewhat as he stammered. "Th-there's some kind of.. ah, some kind of commotion there, in the Tavern.." though he couldn't see it, he knew the older man's face was twisted in turmoil, as was his own gut, guilt of his cowardice roiling within him.
I'm sorry, mate.. I have a family to think of..
As one, the three dark figures turn their heads towards the unassuming building. The lead Wraith speaks again, "Begone.." Stammering incoherently, Roland steps back, nodding his head as he starts turning to head down the road, the older man following after a moment of indecision.
Roland's thoughts wander to his family.. the things they had been forced to endure, under Gansend, and to his parents, who had been killed in one of those "revolutions".
"Father forgive me.. what have I done..?"
Vesica, meanwhile, stood tall and straight, clearing her throat before speaking. "We all know why we're here.. there's no need for further facade. Everyone present has received word of a new resistance.. of a new rebellion, and you've all found your way here, tonight, because you seek answers." She pauses, looking around. "Well, I'll tell you; the rumors are true." Taking a deep breath, Vesica continues. "I am the one who sent out the message, calling for any and all who were tired of Gansend's rule; tired of being slaves to Darkness, and to our own fears. We've waited ages for action to be taken, but no more! We're going to take action." The woman's eyes continue to move about the room as she speaks. "I've had to watch as my mother and father were taken from me; as my friends and their families have been mistreated and killed because of Gansend's cruelty. For my suffering, I have been rewarded with a resolve cast of iron.." Her eyes glass over, slightly, as a thin film of tears threaten to form. Her voice, however, remains strong and clear. "I ask you, now, if you're willing to do whatever it takes to see to it that this world is set to rights; that we stand up, reach out, and take what's rightfully ours, but not just for us," she shakes her head, her hair flowing behind her. ",but for everyone who has been forced to live a life of fear, and of poverty, and of injustice." She raises her hand, pointing to the ground at each declaration, for emphasis.
Jack pauses in his cleaning of the glass, his eyes upon Vesica. He had never known her conviction to be this strong. Perhaps she had grown up, after all..
"If any one of you here, tonight, is unwilling to do whatever it takes, no matter the circumstances, then I fear you've come all this way for naught.. for the rest of you, who are just as outraged as I, and who place civil liberties and freedoms above themselves, as I do.. stay. Stay, and I will tell you how we might bring back the old ways, and how we might destroy Darkness, once and for all." At this, Vesica lifts her right foot, hooking the bottom of a nearby chair as she draws it towards herself. In one swift motion, she unsheathes one of her daggers, it's pale blade shimmering in the dim firelight light for a moment before dropping to the table, the sharp point sinking into the grained wood as it's owner takes her seat, her arms folded across her chest. Even now, she struggled to keep the tears in her eyes from forming, her mouth set in a hard, unwavering line.
Now was the time to see whether or not this had all been worth the effort..
Meanwhile, just outside of the door..
The two guards stand close to the door, their breaths held as they listen in on what is transpiring within; neither one daring to say a word as Vesica delivers her speech. The larger and older of the two men gestures away from the door, then presses two of his fingers to his lips as an indication to stay quiet. Nodding, the younger guard follows him away from the door, moving quietly so as to avoid making noise.
Once they were out of immediate earshot of the tavern, the younger man speaks, quietly. "By the Light.. it's a down-roight rebellion, in'nere.." The older man nods solemnly. "A revolution.." The younger looks over at him. "Oi, we should report dis to someone, shouldn't we?"
"I'm not too sure, meself.."
"How d'ya mean?"
The older man inhales deeply, a weary sigh escaping his lips. "I dunno.. be kinda noice, wouldn't it..? No more Gansend, no more Wraiths, or fiends.. like the old days." The young man shakes his head. "Where's you 'ead at, mate? This is jus' another load of loons talkin' nonsense about 'revolution'. You don't actually fink they could pull it off, do ya?" For a long moment, the older man remains silent.
"The two of us are too young to remember, Roland.. how it used to be, before all 'dis mess.. but I was around some 'o da older folk, when they used to tell tales 'o de world and how it once was. Dey were fantastic tales, my friend.. you wouldn't have believed it if dey told ye. Green valleys, miles and miles of farmland, far as de eye could see.. elves dancing in the forest, singing- singing, Roland! -and all manner of great and fanciful 'fings.. I could never bring meself to believe dat we could ever go back to summin' like dat.. but I've never stopped wantin' it. Call it foolish, mate, I don't care.. I feel like Ijust gotta keep dat litte' bit of 'ope dat summin' can be done.."
Roland stands motionless, his tortured face hidden beneath his mask, for which he was grateful.. what the older man spoke of was treason, at best. But his words reflected a dream that nearly everyone shared; that there could be hope that Gansend could be brought down, somehow. By the time Roland had come into the world, the people had already lost hope.. no one could remember, or wanted to remember, how things used to be. Before he could say a word, though, there came a heavy footfall from somewhere in the shadows. Even as the two men turn towards the noise, a dark figure steps out from the shadows, followed closely by two figures.
Standing there, gleaming armor set aglow in the bright moonlight, were three Wraiths, bodies rigid and straight, their helmeted faces turned towards the two men, who both took involuntary steps backwards as the soul-less beings moved towards them. The Wraith at the head of the group was the first to speak, his voice low, emotionless, and metallic; unnatural in every way. His speech came in a slow drawl, almost as though he was straining the words into a hiss.
"Why.. are you men not at your posstss?"
Both men stood frozen in place, unable to speak. The Wraiths didn't flinch; didn't move an inch as they all stood in utter silence for what seemed, to Roland like an eternity. Finally, he spoke, his voice failing him, somewhat as he stammered. "Th-there's some kind of.. ah, some kind of commotion there, in the Tavern.." though he couldn't see it, he knew the older man's face was twisted in turmoil, as was his own gut, guilt of his cowardice roiling within him.
I'm sorry, mate.. I have a family to think of..
As one, the three dark figures turn their heads towards the unassuming building. The lead Wraith speaks again, "Begone.." Stammering incoherently, Roland steps back, nodding his head as he starts turning to head down the road, the older man following after a moment of indecision.
Roland's thoughts wander to his family.. the things they had been forced to endure, under Gansend, and to his parents, who had been killed in one of those "revolutions".
"Father forgive me.. what have I done..?"
OOC Notes
Naomi leaned back in her chair as the young woman stood and walked to the center of the room. Her gaze passed across each one of them and in that gaze Naomi saw something she had not seen in anyone, including herself, for a long, long time; courage and conviction. She folded her arms across her chest and listened to the young woman’s words. She spoke of action, courage, love ones lost to the evil that Gansend spewed across the world and she spoke of taking back what was rightfully theirs. She was tired of living in fear, she said.
Fear.
As she spoke Naomi’s thoughts became clouded, mixed with a thousand nightmares and the screams of young women just like this one standing before her.
Fear.
She stared at her boots. The woman sat down. Brave words. Brave deeds. Yes, perhaps there would be a revolution. Perhaps thousands would join and follow this woman into battle. Perhaps.
Naomi had been sixteen when she followed her father through the door of a tavern very much like this one. There, kneeling on the hardwood floor, were seventeen young ‘revolutionaries’ very much like these. Their revolution over before it began. Betrayed by one of their own, they would be taken from that tavern to a place even they, in their most desperate fears, could never imagine.
Fear.
Naomi lifted her gaze and looked, each to the other, then back to the young woman now sitting silent, a look of fierce determination on her face. She paused a moment to study that face. Fair skin, lovely hair. Young. Like herself. Much too young to die in some run-of-the-mill tavern like this one. She sighed deeply and was about to say something when she heard the crunch of a bootstep outside, near the bolted door of the tavern. Her eyes darted to the door and her hand slipped, instinctively, to the hilt of her rapier. She, for one, would never kneel before the likes of her father. Not now. Not ever.
Fear.
As she spoke Naomi’s thoughts became clouded, mixed with a thousand nightmares and the screams of young women just like this one standing before her.
Fear.
She stared at her boots. The woman sat down. Brave words. Brave deeds. Yes, perhaps there would be a revolution. Perhaps thousands would join and follow this woman into battle. Perhaps.
Naomi had been sixteen when she followed her father through the door of a tavern very much like this one. There, kneeling on the hardwood floor, were seventeen young ‘revolutionaries’ very much like these. Their revolution over before it began. Betrayed by one of their own, they would be taken from that tavern to a place even they, in their most desperate fears, could never imagine.
Fear.
Naomi lifted her gaze and looked, each to the other, then back to the young woman now sitting silent, a look of fierce determination on her face. She paused a moment to study that face. Fair skin, lovely hair. Young. Like herself. Much too young to die in some run-of-the-mill tavern like this one. She sighed deeply and was about to say something when she heard the crunch of a bootstep outside, near the bolted door of the tavern. Her eyes darted to the door and her hand slipped, instinctively, to the hilt of her rapier. She, for one, would never kneel before the likes of her father. Not now. Not ever.
OOC Notes
Mannix watched as the blonde girl walked to the center of the room and spoke her peice. He nodded gravely, agreeing with everything that she said. As she talked he noticed how powerful her emotions were and he admitted inwardly that she was a very stirring person. She began to point at each of the group gathered as she spoke. "I ask you, now, if you're willing to do whatever it takes to see to it that this world is set to rights; that we stand up, reach out, and take what's rightfully ours, but not just for us, but for everyone who has been forced to live a life of fear, and of poverty, and of injustice."
At injustice, her finger landed on him and her point had been completely driven home. He found himself undeniable devoted to this cause, no matter what would happen, and so he stood up and bowed to the girl. This was an extremely powerful gesture for him, the monks of Jerall rarely ever bowed for anyone, and it showed his permanent aleigance to the cause that she had been talking about. As he bowed he heard the crunch of foosteps outside. He straightened up slowly, so as not to offend, and then began to tense up under his robes. He mentally prepared himself to whatever mught be coming from outside.
At injustice, her finger landed on him and her point had been completely driven home. He found himself undeniable devoted to this cause, no matter what would happen, and so he stood up and bowed to the girl. This was an extremely powerful gesture for him, the monks of Jerall rarely ever bowed for anyone, and it showed his permanent aleigance to the cause that she had been talking about. As he bowed he heard the crunch of foosteps outside. He straightened up slowly, so as not to offend, and then began to tense up under his robes. He mentally prepared himself to whatever mught be coming from outside.
OOC Notes
Scrabrokk sat motionless on his stool as one of the humans stood in the centre of the room and started on yet another drawn out speech that they seemed so fond of. Words were not weapons in his eyes and overusing them was nothing but a waste of time and breath so as the woman prattled on about courage and allegiance he leaned back on the bar with one gnarled elbow and whispered to the man who had set about cleaning up out of the way.
"You gonna get me this drink or do I have to reach over and take it myself?"
Was it really so much to ask for something to quench his thirst in a tavern of all places? Were he back in the valley he would be drunk within this amount of time.
"I thought you were suppsoed to be a hospitable race..." This he muttered more to himself, now ignoring the words flowing endlessly from soft, young lips that clearly hadn't seen the front end of a fist on a regular basis, nor been chapped and split by the tail end of a freezing winter. Humans. What did they know about courage?
And then came the footsteps outside. He heard them as well as anyone else, despite having managed to zone out from the speech made by the woman who apparently had invited them all here.
"Pretty words, human," he hissed as he stood to join the others who seemed prepared for attack. "But you may as well have pinned a copy of your note to the door."
Not wanting to die, should it come to that, having been refused service by a human, Scrabrokk clambered onto the bar and reached over to grab a near empty bottle of deep, amber liquid. With one slick movement he popped the cork off and poured the contents down his neck. He then lowered himself to the ground, depositing the now empty container silently on the bar with one hand while drawing his menacing mace from it's harness by his side.
"Not even worth the wait" he mumbled with dissatisfaction as he waited for who - or what - ever was approaching from outside.
"You gonna get me this drink or do I have to reach over and take it myself?"
Was it really so much to ask for something to quench his thirst in a tavern of all places? Were he back in the valley he would be drunk within this amount of time.
"I thought you were suppsoed to be a hospitable race..." This he muttered more to himself, now ignoring the words flowing endlessly from soft, young lips that clearly hadn't seen the front end of a fist on a regular basis, nor been chapped and split by the tail end of a freezing winter. Humans. What did they know about courage?
And then came the footsteps outside. He heard them as well as anyone else, despite having managed to zone out from the speech made by the woman who apparently had invited them all here.
"Pretty words, human," he hissed as he stood to join the others who seemed prepared for attack. "But you may as well have pinned a copy of your note to the door."
Not wanting to die, should it come to that, having been refused service by a human, Scrabrokk clambered onto the bar and reached over to grab a near empty bottle of deep, amber liquid. With one slick movement he popped the cork off and poured the contents down his neck. He then lowered himself to the ground, depositing the now empty container silently on the bar with one hand while drawing his menacing mace from it's harness by his side.
"Not even worth the wait" he mumbled with dissatisfaction as he waited for who - or what - ever was approaching from outside.
OOC Notes
The young woman spoke and her voice rang with conviction. Alya felt better and relaxed slightly. This girl may yet have a plan and Alya's presence may not have been the mistake she imagined.
"I ask you, now, if you're willing to do whatever it takes to see to it that this world is set to rights; that we stand up, reach out, and take what's rightfully ours, but not just for us but for everyone who has been forced to live a life of fear, and of poverty, and of injustice."
She was young, to be bringing together a revolution, Alya thought. But, Gansend had a far reach and Alya knew that everyone had suffered under his rule. She hoped this woman could lead as well as she spoke, or the revolt would be short lived. She shifted in her seat slightly as the goblin ignored the human's words and made a jape.
In the silence that followed his words, there was a sound outside the door.
Alya had been too long in the forest, and her senses were already stressed by the proximity of all these human and goblin scents. In the forest, there were no birds whose silence would warn of danger, or creatures who would run away from a large predator, but athough the threat was different, the outcome could be the same. Alya opened her mouth to speak, to warn them, but the goblin rasped. "Pretty words, human. But you may as well have pinned a copy of your note to the door." The goblin climbed over the bar and, incredibly, grabbed a bottle and drank to the dregs.
Alya cursed under her breath, wishing that she had brought her bow despite its inconvenience, then reached for her sword, sliding it from her sheath. She could hear others around her preparing themselves as well. Now, she would have to fight free, and if she lived she might discover if this was an accident, or an ambush.
"I ask you, now, if you're willing to do whatever it takes to see to it that this world is set to rights; that we stand up, reach out, and take what's rightfully ours, but not just for us but for everyone who has been forced to live a life of fear, and of poverty, and of injustice."
She was young, to be bringing together a revolution, Alya thought. But, Gansend had a far reach and Alya knew that everyone had suffered under his rule. She hoped this woman could lead as well as she spoke, or the revolt would be short lived. She shifted in her seat slightly as the goblin ignored the human's words and made a jape.
In the silence that followed his words, there was a sound outside the door.
Alya had been too long in the forest, and her senses were already stressed by the proximity of all these human and goblin scents. In the forest, there were no birds whose silence would warn of danger, or creatures who would run away from a large predator, but athough the threat was different, the outcome could be the same. Alya opened her mouth to speak, to warn them, but the goblin rasped. "Pretty words, human. But you may as well have pinned a copy of your note to the door." The goblin climbed over the bar and, incredibly, grabbed a bottle and drank to the dregs.
Alya cursed under her breath, wishing that she had brought her bow despite its inconvenience, then reached for her sword, sliding it from her sheath. She could hear others around her preparing themselves as well. Now, she would have to fight free, and if she lived she might discover if this was an accident, or an ambush.
- 30 posts here • Page 1 of 2 • 1, 2
A World of Darkness: Out Of Character (OOC)
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Daymond's Journal
by Jerico Do'Lantul on Sun Sep 11, 2011 4:33 pm
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Daymond's Journal
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A World of Darkness
1, 2, 3by Jerico Do'Lantul on Tue Aug 23, 2011 2:54 pm
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on Mon Nov 07, 2011 5:49 pm
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A World of Darkness
Most recent OOC posts in A World of Darkness
Re: [OOC] A World of Darkness
Well...that's it then. isnt it? That's a real bummer. I don't see how we can go on without Jericho on this one guys. I'm sorry to say it but this RP has ended. Hope to see you all elsewhere.
Re: [OOC] A World of Darkness
Good evening, my friends.
I would, first, like to apologies for my unannounced leave of absence. The circumstances, then, were beyond my control, as is the situation I now find myself in. Without putting too fine a point on it; I am leaving RPG, and I can't be certain when I will be allowed to return.
I know that I haven't been a member for very long, but these past few months have been some of the most enriching I have lived. Creativity and talent flow abundantly throughout this community, and I dare say I've made some very worth-while friends here, whom I intend to maintain contact with by means outside of the site, if possible.
My only regret is that the stories I leave behind in mid-telling will have to continue on without me, and I sorely hope that they do just as well as they would have with me here to watch them flourish.
And so, without further adieu, I bid you all farewell. May the stars light your path, and may this final message find you well; in good health and high spirits.
Very sincerely,
Jerico Do'Lantul
I would, first, like to apologies for my unannounced leave of absence. The circumstances, then, were beyond my control, as is the situation I now find myself in. Without putting too fine a point on it; I am leaving RPG, and I can't be certain when I will be allowed to return.
I know that I haven't been a member for very long, but these past few months have been some of the most enriching I have lived. Creativity and talent flow abundantly throughout this community, and I dare say I've made some very worth-while friends here, whom I intend to maintain contact with by means outside of the site, if possible.
My only regret is that the stories I leave behind in mid-telling will have to continue on without me, and I sorely hope that they do just as well as they would have with me here to watch them flourish.
And so, without further adieu, I bid you all farewell. May the stars light your path, and may this final message find you well; in good health and high spirits.
Very sincerely,
Jerico Do'Lantul
Re: [OOC] A World of Darkness
Hello everyone I am here to speak on Jerico's behalf he asked me to let you all know that he is experiencing technical difficulties and will not be back possibly until next week. He wishes you well.
Sincerely,
SilverAngel
Sincerely,
SilverAngel
Re: [OOC] A World of Darkness
Trust me, the story will be taking a turn, soon, but I need everyone to put up their responces to Vesica's words, and to what Avella posted before I can do that. I need something to work off of, in order to bring a post that addresses everything that's happening.
Re: [OOC] A World of Darkness
Still here too!
Just waiting on something to happen, but still checking in every day that I can.
Just waiting on something to happen, but still checking in every day that I can.
Re: [OOC] A World of Darkness
I am here.
Maybe we just need the bad guys to attack? I'm totally prepared to knock em out with my stench! :3
Maybe we just need the bad guys to attack? I'm totally prepared to knock em out with my stench! :3
Re: [OOC] A World of Darkness
At this point, I would like to know how many people are still present and interested in carrying on. It doesn't matter if you're too busy to post, or if you're having writer's block, as we can address that later on.
I simply want to know if anyone has abandoned the roleplay and, if so, I would like you to say so, now. If not, I need everyone to aknowledge that you're still here, and still interested in continuing.
I simply want to know if anyone has abandoned the roleplay and, if so, I would like you to say so, now. If not, I need everyone to aknowledge that you're still here, and still interested in continuing.
Re: [OOC] A World of Darkness
Take your time, when it comes to posts.
A day without a post isn't going to kill the roleplay. If you don't know what to write, just think some more on it and come back. At the same time, try not to overthink your posts. Remember, you character is living in the moment, even though you(the writer) have all the time in the world to come up with something. Your character may not always know what to do in a given situation, leaving them taken aback and uncertain. They may act irrationally, make poor decisions, or they may not act at all, especially if they are used to being on top of the situation.
Such is human nature(fairly certain the elves, goblins and dwarves behave in much the same way).
A day without a post isn't going to kill the roleplay. If you don't know what to write, just think some more on it and come back. At the same time, try not to overthink your posts. Remember, you character is living in the moment, even though you(the writer) have all the time in the world to come up with something. Your character may not always know what to do in a given situation, leaving them taken aback and uncertain. They may act irrationally, make poor decisions, or they may not act at all, especially if they are used to being on top of the situation.
Such is human nature(fairly certain the elves, goblins and dwarves behave in much the same way).
Re: [OOC] A World of Darkness
I'm suffering from writer's block at the moment, but someone has to go. We can't just let this die.
Re: [OOC] A World of Darkness
I went back and edited additional material from the guards' perspectives. Their voices wouldn't be heard, but the crunching sound is now accounted for.
Re: [OOC] A World of Darkness
My apologies. It was not so much writer's block as I was unsure how to get that stinky elf anywhere but in a bath! :)
Re: [OOC] Daymond's Journal
Honor Guard
These twisted souls have been bred from elves, exclusively, because of the elven people's slim and limber frames. Because of elves fortitude, it is next to impossible to set Darkness within their bodies and souls, making these abominations increasingly rare. Training regiments are unknown, as of yet, but are rumored to be the harshest among the hybrids. They are faster, stronger, and more dexterous that any human or goblin hybrids, by a landslide. For how few of them there are, their abilities are matched by none, save for the Lords of Darkness, themselves. As such, they have, nearly all of them, been tasked with being the Lords of Darkness' personal guards, sometimes doubling as special assignment units. Uniquely among the Honor Guard is their inability to speak; elves' speech had to be disabled during the transformation, as they would continualy mutter spells during the process, greatly hindering their efforts. For whatever reason, Gansend has allowed these creatures to maintain the sensation of pain, albeit to a far lesser degree than normal. It is speculated that, because of their rarity, it is better that they know when to retreat than to give their lives to every endeavor, as the human hybrids do.
Daymond's Notes
Fighting these atrocities will be second only to the Lords, themselves, in terms of difficulty. Luckily, they only ever travel in two's, otherwise our encounters would be very short-lived.
If you are ever confronted by one, be wary; it's partner will never be too far away. Even so, were they not capable of running you down in a matte of seconds, the best course would be to run. Unfortunately, it has been proven a futile effort, in nearly all cases. If you are cornered by one, your only hope is to fight for your life, and hope that you can wound it enough to slow it's pursuit, or to force it to retreat.
Re: [OOC] A World of Darkness
Who's turn is it to post? I have done so as has Mannix and the Goblin. I think we need one more before the turn?
Re: [OOC] A World of Darkness
I hope that we can get back to it soon. I'm enjoying this roleplay far too much.
Re: [OOC] A World of Darkness
I appologise for my absence, this weekend, but I was given a lot of work to do, and a short amount of time to do it.
Anyway, I hope to pick back up, this week, and to get to the meat and the potatoes of the story, before long.
Anyway, I hope to pick back up, this week, and to get to the meat and the potatoes of the story, before long.
Re: [OOC] A World of Darkness
Arggggg....what a pain. LOL
Oh well, such is life I guess. I'll spend my two cents worth of oppinion on the feedback site.
Oh well, such is life I guess. I'll spend my two cents worth of oppinion on the feedback site.
Re: [OOC] A World of Darkness
To my knowledge, there is no way to return to the old system where the newest posts appear on the top of the page, as they do in OOC.
