Announcements: Cutting Costs (2024) » January 2024 Copyfraud Attack » Finding Universes to Join (and making yours more visible!) » Guide To Universes On RPG » Member Shoutout Thread » Starter Locations & Prompts for Newcomers » RPG Chat — the official app » Frequently Asked Questions » Suggestions & Requests: THE MASTER THREAD »

Latest Discussions: Adapa Adapa's for adapa » To the Rich Men North of Richmond » Shake Senora » Good Morning RPG! » Ramblings of a Madman: American History Unkempt » Site Revitalization » Map Making Resources » Lost Poetry » Wishes » Ring of Invisibility » Seeking Roleplayer for Rumple/Mr. Gold from Once Upon a Time » Some political parody for these trying times » What dinosaur are you? » So, I have an Etsy » Train Poetry I » Joker » D&D Alignment Chart: How To Get A Theorem Named After You » Dungeon23 : Creative Challenge » Returning User - Is it dead? » Twelve Days of Christmas »

Players Wanted: Serious Anime Crossover Roleplay (semi-literate) » Looking for a long term partner! » JoJo or Mha roleplay » Seeking long-term rp partners for MxM » [MxF] Ruining Beauty / Beauty x Bastard » Minecraft Rp Help Wanted » CALL FOR WITNESSES: The Public v Zosimos » Social Immortal: A Vampire Only Soiree [The Multiverse] » XENOMORPH EDM TOUR Feat. Synthe Gridd: Get Your Tickets! » Aishna: Tower of Desire » Looking for fellow RPGers/Characters » looking for a RP partner (ABO/BL) » Looking for a long term roleplay partner » Explore the World of Boruto with Our Roleplaying Group on FB » More Jedi, Sith, and Imperials needed! » Role-player's Wanted » OSR Armchair Warrior looking for Kin » Friday the 13th Fun, Anyone? » Writers Wanted! » Long term partner to play an older male wanted »

Snippet #2061291

located in Kirkwall, a part of The City of Chains, one of the many universes on RPG.

Kirkwall

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sophia Dumar Character Portrait: Rakkis Character Portrait: Lucien Drakon
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

Footnotes

Add Footnote »

0.00 INK

The Viscount's daughter slid through the door to the private quarters and into the Seneschal's office. Bran looked up to see her sheathing Vesenia, her hand-and-a-half sword, across her back, her suit of armor gleaming in the morning light that streamed through the window. It was an expertly crafted suit of silver plate, remarkably light for the protection it offered her, and yet still strong enough to turn aside any glancing blow. It was also stylish enough to make most Orlesian Chevaliers moderately jealous, with crimson and white ribbons sown into the shoulder pauldrons and breastplate, as well as a crimson skirt falling loosely around her legs to reach her knees. She had tied her thick golden hair back into a ponytail, securing it in place with a headband of tightly interlaced red and white cloth.

"My lady..." Bran began, but as ever, Sophia was quick to quick to cut him off. "Bran, I'm going. Everything will be fine." He shook his head. "It's not that. A pair of... mercenaries, I suppose, arrived while you were donning your armor, and I've assigned them to accompany you to the Wounded Coast." Sophia sighed. "More mercenaries? And how am I supposed to trust these ones any more than the Winters?"

"Because they are fully aware that their reward will only be presented if both you and your brother return unharmed. And, well... the first one seemed an honorable enough sort. The other should be held by the coin, if nothing else. You'll see soon enough. They're waiting for you outside." Sophia shrugged. There wasn't any more time to waste. She wasn't going to argue with him about this. And... she had to admit that taking on the Winters herself should things go awry was a bit of a tall order. They were skilled killers, not commoners. "Fine," Sophia gave in, before turning to leave.

"Maker guard you, Sophia," Bran called to her as she left. Sophia had never thought the Seneschal a very religious man. Perhaps he was just saying it to encourage her. If he was, it worked well enough. She passed through the Seneschal's door swiftly, moving easily in her armor, a feat not many of the noblewomen in Hightown could perform. She noted the presence of her two companions, the first a large, well-built man, a warrior like herself, the second... a slender elf. His facial tattoos initially identified him as Dalish in her mind, but... the tattoos seemed oddly vulgar. She had to admit, she'd never met a Dalish elf, but she'd always imagined their facial tattoos would be more... elegant?

But it didn't matter. He would help her, or he wouldn't get paid, which was likely all these mercenaries cared about. She waved the two to follow her, and moved swiftly down the steps away from the Viscount's quarters, expecting them to keep up.

"Let's do introductions on the move, shall we?" she called back to them, golden hair swishing behind her as she walked. "Sophia Dumar, daughter to the Viscount of Kirkwall, as I'm sure you know."

Lucien tracked the elf's movement with his single mercurial eye, returning the rougish nod with a markedly more respectful and decorous one, though other than that, he was quite content to remain out of the man's business, and maintained a fair distance from the Seneschal's office. Eventually, the tattooed fellow reemerged, and the warrior was fairly certain he caught the tail end of a jest made at his expense. Never heard that one before, he thought with faint traces of sarcasm, though he was more interested in the fact that the other man seemed to be lingering as well. It was not difficult to put two and two together, and he drew the conclusion that he would not be alone in his endeavors this day.

He was spared having to ask the actual question by the appearance of an armored woman, face set into an expression that was all business. The craftsmanship of her arms and armament spoke to wealth, but also the presence of mind to maintain such things, and her gesture was all he needed to suppose that she was accustomed to being obeyed. After that, the introduction was only a formality, and he uprooted himself from his spot against the pillar at last, rotating his left arm in its socket as he tread carefully after her trailing ponytail. He maintained a respectful distance of two paces behind and to the right, but the motion made bowing a frankly ridiculous option, so he embraced the efficiency of the situation and spoke while walking.

"Lucien Drakon, milady, lowtown mercenary, as I'm sure you have no reason to know." He echoed her delivery with something approaching mild humor. And why not? Though he'd been told she was a warrior, it was still in his nature to expect formality thick enough to choke, and its absence was... refreshing.

Rakkis played a single thumb along the exposed hilt of his unnamed rapier while he waited. He smiled pleasantly enough at Lucien, then at Sophia when she made her appearance. The slender elf gravitated toward the large mercenary's right side when they were underway, hanging just a step back; not out of deference, but more likely to be annoying. ”And I am Rakkis. A pleasure to make your acquaintences, of course." He eased his hands behind his back, clasping them at the small of it. He had to step quickly to match his companions' longer strides, but did so easily enough.

Sophia made note of their names, if only to know what to call them in case orders needed to be given. The name Drakon might have had a greater impact on her had she not been in such a hurry, and had she not been so distracted. "We could go through the formalities," Sophia commented as the group exited the Keep, "but personally, I'd rather we just got moving. I hope the two of you can ride. We'll be making haste to the Wounded Coast, where we should be able to pick up the Winters' trail. Maker willing, we'll catch them before they do anything stupid." She made a sharp turn at the base of the steps, turning towards the Viscount's stables. The guards nodded and let her pass, her two companions let through as well.

Rakkis' nose wrinkled up on the word ride. He had no great affinity for animals, particularly the sort large enough to flatten him with a kick. Of course, the well-bred beasts that the Viscount was liable to keep might be less surly than the nags he'd had occasion to saddle before. ”That," he commented dryly with a smirk toward Sophia, ”Would require catching them before they get anywhere near your darling brother."

"That is my intent," Sophia said as the three of them made their way into the stables, an open courtyard of mostly cold stone flooring, though they would be able to see the Viscount's private riding grounds through a gate against the far wall. A stablehand was quick to bring Sophia's horse to her, a proud-looking white warhorse which she smoothly mounted without breaking stride. "Bring horses for my companions," she commanded, and in short order a pair of them were brought forth, both black. Strong, sturdy horses, not the caliber of Sophia's, but noble creatures all the same. Once the group was mounted, Sophia kicked her heels into her horse, calling back to them.

"Try to keep up!"

Lucien was forced to adjust the way the scythe lay across his back, in order that he would neither stab the horse nor himself. It was a minor inconvenience at best, but it had never been a problem when he carried a sword. It would be some time, perhaps, before he allowed himself that luxury again, or any other. Still, there was a faintly-pleased crinkle in the corner of his visible eye when he swung astride the beast. This, the exercise of military skill from astride an equine, was one of the things the Chavaliers took most pride in, and the Orlesian cavalry was, in the opinion of its members and a fair amont of others, the finest in the world. Lady Sophia spurred her beast foward, and the call that issued over her shoulder, filled with no small amount of confidence, sounded very much like a challenge.

The Orlesian man's good eyebrow ascended his forehead, and he shook his mane of hair good-naturedly. How tempted he was to revert, even for a moment, to his boyhood, when he'd answered so many such barbs from his father or his comrades and raced with no thought for anything but the joy of it. Alas, that was likely not the intention, and there were much more important matters to be taken care of. Steering with only his legs, Lucien squeezed his horse's flanks rather than kicking it, but the response was the same, and he made sure to actually heed the command and keep pace, aware that time grew short.

”Horse," the elf said, nodding toward the coal-colored steed that was brought before him as if that were its name. He hadn't the same aplomb or horsemanship as his two human comrades when it came to getting astride the damnable thing; it was nearly a trapeze act of sorts for him to get one foot into a stirrup and then swing for the sake of momentum to wind up in the saddle. He situated himself, looking cross and uncomfortable, and then leaned in to whisper into one of the animal's large ears. "There is a woman down in Darktown who makes a most delightful horse-meat stew. I know her well, and would see her business thrive. Do not cross me, Horse." He kicked his heels into the great beasts sides, then held on for dear life as it started off its cantor. The animal probably barely realized there was a rider in the saddle, so slight was Rakkis, and it was with wide eyes and quite a few curses that he managed to stay seated at first. Sophia and Lucien would likely gain a sizeable lead before he finally got the hang of it.

The three of them departed Kirkwall, heading for the Wounded Coast.