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Requinn Voss

"Even death will kneel before me."

0 · 338 views · located in Khassus

a character in “As The Dragons Slumber”, originally authored by Solo Wing Pixy, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

Requinn Voss


Image



Preliator

Name: Requinn Voss | Alias: Quinn | Age: 681 | Gender: Male | Race: High Elf | Height: 5'9" | Weight: 142 lbs

Appearance: Standing at 5'9" and weighing in at only 142 lbs, Requinn Voss is anything but physically intimidating. Despite this, he possesses a chilling presence and a perpetual look of temerity that contradicts his otherwise disarming countenance and warm, comforting words. His jet black hair, uncommon among the High Elves, reached shoulder length and was often loosely stylized. More often than not, it partially obscured his face. His golden eyes, which he got from his mother, are relaxed even in the most tense situations, and together with his brow and deceptive smile lend toward a look of quiet confidence and dependability. Like all elves, he has sharp, pointed ears and angular facial features, and the signs of his age are visible only to the most perceptive of non-elves. His fair skin, which can appear pale in certain lights, is typical among elves in that any scars or impurities fade away within months, leaving it flawless, at least by the standards of other species.

Voss wears traditional Pax Alma light armor, consisting of elven leather and elven steel plate, materials that are designed to suit the smaller, lighter elves and their agility based fighting styles, however, his armor no longer bears the Pax Alma sigil nor any of it's gemstone adornments or silver inlaid patterns. In addition, it has been stained black and Requinn's own sigil has been etched into the chest with magic doubling as aesthetic design and protection that absorbs some force from magical attacks from the front. In accessory, he wears gloves and boots made from stained black elven leather and inlaid with silk for comfort, a black leather belt which holds the unadorned black sheath for his sword. To top it all off, he often dons an unassuming black cloak.

Personality:
Ruthless, cunning, and ambitious, Requinn Voss is a self described master manipulator and tactician. While some might view him as immoral, he would correct them by claiming to be amoral. He sees things not as right and wrong or good and evil, but as efficient and inefficient, necessary and unnecessary. A poster boy for Machiavellian scheming, Voss can sometimes be overconfident and even arrogant, but he is not above his own reproach. He has lived long enough recognize failure when he sees it, in himself and others, and will change his approach to fix it.

Like most elves, he possesses patience far beyond that of shorter lived species, and that has contributed greatly to his goal. He is in no rush to see the outcomes of his plots, often waiting years and even decades to see them come to fruition. Utilizing both his patience and his skill with illusion and charm, Voss has accumulated a power base on Varnon of informants, politicians, and other influential individuals, granting him great personal wealth and influence, though always from the shadows. Voss does not like being in the spotlight, because unwanted attention could have unforeseen consequences, and so often operates behind the scenes, using proxy agents to do what he needs to do. However, the lure of a lodestone was too great, and he trusted only himself with retrieving it.

While his intelligence, skill, and influence are vast, his downfall is often his own hubris. His pride is certainly justified, to an extent, but he is still open to mistakes that he has not already made. He is obsessed with immortality, and is pathologically afraid of death. As such, he is willing to go to any length, betray any ally, and kill anyone, in order to acquire the lodestones, which he believes can help him towards or even grant him his immortality.

Fighting Style:
Requinn spent nearly two hundred years as a member of the elven order of peacekeepers known as Pax Alma where he eventually earned the rank of Imperator, one of the most prestigious ranks among combatants of the order. He uses the enchanted sword that he did while he was in the Pax Alma, a finely made blade of elven steel stained black that is devoid of any decoration save for the small thunderstone embedded in the crossguard, powering the magic within.

Although Voss isn't nearly the biggest or strongest warrior around, he is still quite capable a fighter. Preferring to turn an opponent's strength against them, Voss augments his own abilities with considerable magic, granting him enhanced speed, strength and agility, as well as increasing his perception and acrobatic ability. He utilizes elaborate flourishes, flips, and footwork to avoid his enemy and give himself the most advantageous position. Just as well, he will use anything to his advantage, including taunting and cheap tricks, and is quite adept at improvisation. He is also known to employ magic extensively, be it as an illusion or as crackling lightning, one of his personal favorites. The downside to his fast paced and magic fueled style is that he tires very quickly, and although he has had centuries of conditioning, if he cannot win a fight quickly enough, he will begin to falter. To counter this, he rarely fights at a place not of his choosing, and he rarely fights without already putting himself at an advantage.

As is typical of elves, Requinn is skilled in the use of a bow, and he carries one of fine elven make whenever he travels. However, it is not his weapon of choice and he is thus not as skilled as specialized elven marksmen. He only uses it if he has to, or as a last resort.
History: Born over half a millennium ago at the height of the elven empire of Rexia, when the elves ruled over nearly half of all the known world, Requinn Voss was heir to the Voss'Eht'Ahn bloodline, a family of noble knights who served the Pax Alma for nearly ten thousand years, and was given the birth name Thanare'Quinn, the same as his father's father. As was expected of him, he joined the Pax Alma, an order of peacekeepers, when he came of age at 40.

During his training, Voss learned a great many things. Only the skilled and capable could serve in the Pax Alma, as duty required violence as often as it required diplomacy. While he proved himself in many fields, Requinn truly excelled in combat and magic, and by the time he was 50, he was granted the rank of Praetor, one of the youngest in history. For the next 50 years, Voss earned a reputation as a prodigy, but during this time of peace, the Pax Alma primarily investigated crimes, and Voss was not content to be a glorified city guard. When the emperor declared a human nation on the border of Rexia as an enemy, Requinn saw it as an opportunity. The Pax Alma was reformed into a military role, and it's members served as generals and assassins, leading the rank and file soldiers of the empire and undertaking dangerous missions.

Requinn, of course, fit right in and was instrumental in the successes of the empire's early campaigns. However, as the war dragged on, the human nation refused to submit, and more and more nations joined them in their war against the empire. This war would eventually become known as the schism, as it split the continent virtually in two as all the human nations banded together to fight the empire. Despite the empire's early success, the combined might of the allied nations pushed the empire back until they were at a standstill near the original borders. For nearly 100 years, the empire and the allied human nations remained in a cold war, and neither side could gain any leverage, until the emperor died of old age almost 500 years ago. The resulting power vacuum caused the elven empire to fracture into warring factions, and that is when the allied nations attacked, pushing the elves all the way back to their capital. Although the siege lasted years, the allies eventually prevailed and the elves were forced to sign a treat. As one of the few Pax Alma to survive the war, Requinn was witness to the signing, and it angered him deeply.

The empire was a shell of what it was. The Pax Alma were all but dead, and although they would eventually rebuild, they would never be what they once were. Requinn became disillusioned with the order and with the empire, and so he left, abandoning his honor and the right to bear his full name. He was branded Requinn Voss, a name that marked him as a deserter, and stripped of all titles, but it did not matter, because he had greater aspirations. He came to realize that even something as great and powerful as the empire or the Pax Alma would eventually crumble, and that the reason for this was that their creators the elves, despite their thousand year life spans, were still mortal. Voss concluded that the only way to build an immortal legacy, he first needed to become immortal himself, and he began his research.

As years, decades, and centuries passed, Requinn fell deeper into his obsession, and as he grew older, he also grew desperate. In order to fuel his research and experiments, he needed wealth and power, but as an exile, he commanded next to none. To that end, he went to work building his power base, accumulating wealth and power and knowledge for the sole purpose of uncovering a ritual which could grant him everlasting life.

With his goal in mind, Voss was relentless. Throughout the centuries, Voss has gathered one of the largest repositories of magical knowledge on Varnon, and takes no shortcuts in ensuring it is hidden and well defended. In his quest, he has acquired many magical artifacts and items, including various magical stones. It is his belief that the greatest of these possibly plays a part in the ritual that could grant him immortality, given lodestones legendary propensity for miracles. When rumors of a giant lodestone resting in Naua Te reached his ear, he could not pass up the opportunity, and took the first passage the archipelago he could get, a ship called Anya from the port of Saridur.

So begins...

Requinn Voss's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Requinn Voss Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof
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The last time Requinn Voss visited the port of Saridur, he went by a different name: Thanare'Quinn Voss'Eht'Ahn. He was an Imperator in the Pax Alma, a general in the Rexian Imperial Legion, and he was laying siege to the port with 20,000 elves at his back. But that was nearly 600 years ago, and he was a young man then. So much has changed over the centuries, the city was barely recognizable. Standing atop the hill on which he pitched his command tent so long ago, he found himself inside the city walls, in front of a tailor's shop, gazing down at the city he once besieged.

The citizenry paid him no mind, and why should they? While high elves were a rare sight outside of Rexia, Requinn's black hair gave him the appearance of a sea elf, if one did not take the time to examine him closely. His golden eyes were a dead giveaway, but he had allowed his hair to obscure his face, and he drew his cloak close and his hood up. Leaning slightly on a cane he purchased not but an hour ago from an elderly man outside the walls, Requinn started the descent through the crowded streets to the docks.

The ship he was looking for bore the name Anya, no doubt named for a past "conquest." It mattered little. The captain, a native of Nàsk named Adrian Ronuad, was a well known explorer and had, in years past, recovered a lodestone for the queen of Nàsk. Going over the few things he knew about the captain in his head, Requinn nearly passed the ship by entirely, a crime for which he mentally berated himself, as the ship was nothing short of magnificent.

Requinn had heard stories about Nàsk warships, but he had never seen one himself. It was larger than he had expected, given that the ships of his day rarely had more than two masts, and it was bristling with cannons engraved with magic runes. The cannon was a human invention, the product of a shorter, yet far more inventive, life. Despite Requinn's grudge against humanity for bringing down his empire, he could not deny the abundance of creativity they possessed.

Requinn started up the ramp, still leaning on his new cane. He didn't actually need it, but he saw no harm in presenting himself as less capable than he really was. He dropped his hood and stepped onto the deck of the ship, finding now that he did need the cane to balance himself properly on the rocking ship.

"It's certainly been a long time since I last stepped foot on a ship. I'm not quite used to it yet." Requinn spoke casually to the first crewman that approached him, followed by a slight chuckle. The sea elf gave him a look of curiosity. "Ah! Forgive me for so rudely waltzing onto your ship without introducing myself! Requinn Voss, scholar, author, and archaeologist, at your service, lady...?" He smiled, but didn't spare her the time to respond before he continued, "If possible, I'd very much like to meet the captain. I seek passage and I'll deal with none below him."

The sea elf nodded, clearly both surprised and confused, and tucked the coinpurse in one of her belts. She led Requinn between the other crew members, going slower than she normally would so that Requinn, with his cane, could keep up. He almost felt bad for inconveniencing her, but he invested himself in the ruse, so he figured that he might as well keep it up, at least until it became inconvenient for him. Making their way down the length of the ship, the girl glanced back at him, and her eyes met his, noticing for the first time that he was a high elf rather than a sea elf.

"Damaya," She spoke rather abruptly, still wary of Requinn, "My name is Damaya. I'm Captain Ronuad's first mate." Loyal. Respectful. Efficient. She had barely said a single sentence to him, but Requinn had already begun to profile her in his head. It was a practice he made a habit of doing with anyone he interacted with or planned to interact with more than once.

"A very beautiful name, my lady, and certainly befitting one such as you." Requinn laced his words with a hint of charm, not being one to miss an opportunity to give compliments, especially to someone as influential as the first mate. After all, it is far better to be loved than hated. He didn't pay attention to her reaction, but it no longer mattered. They had reached the captain and Damaya started to introduce him, but he cut her off.

"Requinn Voss," he interjected, switching his cane to his off hand and reaching for a handshake, "renowned author and archaeologist. You may have read one of my books?" He paused for a second, but not long enough to merit a response. "It doesn't matter, I heard that you plan to set sail for Naua Te, and I'd like to book passage, if it isn't too much trouble. I can pay my way, just name your price." Requinn kept his eyes on the captain, a friendly smile on his face. He needed the captain to take him on, so it couldn't hurt to be nice.

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Character Portrait: Requinn Voss Character Portrait: Riktor Fortis
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The early morning sun casts a faint light upon the waterfront of Saridur as the merchants begin setting up their booths to hock their wares to passing patrons. As the crowd begins to form within the bazaar the streets seem to disappear within a sea of people mirroring the actual sea lined with ships instead of merchants. Amongst the growing masses Riktor moves towards the docks in search of a ship to help him reach his goal, the lodestone. It had only been a week or so ago since he had heard the rumors spreading throughout Draust causing everyone with enough guile to begin boasting on how they would acquire the precious gem. Riktor didn't know if these rumors would bear fruit, but if a lodestone was out there he would make it his.

Riktor slowly moved through the crowd and made his way out of the bazaar and into the harbor, it was here that he intended to find a particular vessel that donned the name Anya. He had heard from his friend and fellow sellsword Jevan that this ship would be moored at the harbor here in Saridur today and it would be very likely for them to barter passage to the Naua Te archipelago for the right price. A half-cocked grin spread across Riktor's face when he emerged from the crowd and arrived at the dock for it seemed Jevan had beat him there. Leaned against a post ,drinking what Riktor could only suspect to be some sort alcoholic beverage from a flask, Jevan stared out towards a ship, the Anya. Riktor removed his hood and began approaching Jevan, and without turning to Riktor Jevan began to speak.

"Well there she sits Riktor, our ticket to power and riches beyond belief. No more dangerous battles, no more petty contracts, im talking nobleman type rich." Jevan takes another swig from his flask before finally turning to face Riktor.

"And here i was thinking you liked playing the part of a dashing rouge. Best not let the girls back home here you talk like that, they may find someone else to swoon over."[i] Riktor said as he approached his friend on the dock. [i]"I assume thats the ship then?"

"Yeah thats it, they've been moving stuff about all morning it seems they are already expecting some passengers. That may make this difficult." Jevan said taking another swig from the flask before rousing himself from the post and beginning to walk towards the Anya. "Ill let you handle the arrangements, you've always been a better talker."

Nodding to his companion, Riktor and Jevan begin the short trek down the dock to the ship. The Anya was magnificent. The sunlight of the early morn reflected off the heavy guns lining the deck, the ship itself was an imposing sight in it's own right. Riktor was no stranger to sailing but never before had he set foot on such a vessel. As they drew closer Riktor could see various others scattered upon the deck, most likely crewmen, but there were two that immediately stood out when he was close enough to see them clearly. Riktor grimaced for a moment then turned to Jevan who had a slight snarl on his face as well.

"Bloody Elves..." Riktor said to himself as they drew closer to the ship.

Elves had never been to Riktor's liking. Their conflicting views on the world and their notable skill in combat made them more than just a passing nuisance, and on more than one occasion had they interfered with his plans. Despite their obvious dislike for Elves Riktor and Jevan had no other options for traveling to their destination. Riktor approached the ship and began to ascend the boarding plank causing a few eyes to wander his way.

"Hail there! Might i speak to the captain of this vessel?" Riktor finally spoke, eyes searching the ship for the man in charge of this fine vessel.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya Character Portrait: Requinn Voss Character Portrait: Riktor Fortis Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Sarasa Zyakala
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Adrian continued to calmly sip the rest of his drink, an amused glint in his eyes as he listened to Nimba's rant. Her antics were, to say the very least, extremely entertaining at times. For all her talk, and considerable bite, he knew she was just blowing off steam. She had a wild imagination, and one that tended to work at overdrive at the worst of times. She did manage to calm down after a few minutes, and that was just shortly before he caught sight of someone strolling up the gangplank. Damaya met the man, and moments later the two were coming toward him. Furrowing his brow quizzically, Adrian realized he was elf, and a well dressed one at that. Dark hair, but skin too light to be of the seagoing variety. There was something about him that made Adrian a tad wary, but not to any degree that would effect his demeanor, of course. Being said, what was this man doing just walking onto his ship uninvited? A bit of sailor's courtesy is all he was asking for. He met them halfway, and just as Damaya was about to speak the other elf cut her off. Adrian noted a hint of irritation in the chief mate's face, but she said nothing and politely closed her mouth. Brave, at least, this newcomer was.

"Requinn Voss," he introduced himself respectfully, extending his hand to Adrian, which he swiftly accepted, "renowned author and archaeologist. You may have read one of my books?" First atop his mind was that no, he had never heard of Voss before. Not as if he would have said so, at least not rudely. "It doesn't matter, I heard that you plan to set sail for Naua Te, and I'd like to book passage, if it isn't too much trouble. I can pay my way, just name your price." Adrian smiled, and though is was nondescript in its meaning it centered upon an inkling suspicion of the stranger's intention. An archeologist headed to a place where a lodestone was said to rest, more so in the corpse of a city many thousands of years old? Much too fitting to be coincidental. During Voss' speech, Adrian had taken the liberty of inspecting him more closely. Upon doing so, he realized that by his eyes and skin, Requinn had to have been a High Elf. Thus, his use of a cane was most assuredly not for any physical aid.

Pushing that little matter to the side for now, Adrian returned the greeting with equal graciousness, "Welcome aboard, Mr. Voss. I am Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof, Captain of the Anya."

He could not go any further, as just then a barking voice caught his attention: "Hail there! Might i speak to the captain of this vessel?" It came from a gruff looking man, standing just a little ways ahead of a second.

Adrian and Damaya's eyes met briefly, their expressions for only a moment turning nearly deadpan. Internally wondering whether or not his ship had been mistaken for some sort of pleasure vessel, Adrian exhaled and turned to Voss, "Excuse me a moment, sir." He motioned to Damaya to follow as he walked around the first potential passenger and toward the next. "Place a guard at that ramp," he ordered in a flat tone. Damaya nodded, and broke away to snag a candidate. Reaching the man at the head of the gangplank, Adrian- ever composed- asked, "Good morning. I am Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof, Captain of the Anya. Is there something I could help you with?" Something out of his peripherals catching his eye, Adrian redirected his gaze for a moment. A crease formed slowly in his brow. There, on the docks, were two of the Narans- and one was a very, very large snake. It looked as if his scheduled guest had arrived.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack Character Portrait: Requinn Voss Character Portrait: Riktor Fortis Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Sarasa Zyakala
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Green eyes regarded the rising sun without a trace of preoccupation. Appearances aside, the farthest thing from Kryssis' mind was to dwell upon the spectacle of dawn. It was just the most prominent thing that captured her attention. Even that lasted for only a moment, and then she was walking again. She was relaxed, as evident by the way her hands rested on the pommels of her swords. Not a position from which to draw them, although some of the people she passed by didn't seem to take it into account. On the whole they just ignored her, which was good. Undue attention wouldn't serve any positive purpose. She was already having a slow enough time moving through the early morning market. The extra years had at least allowed her to train, especially in settings like cities where she'd previously had no experience. Ducking and weaving through the crowds, judging peoples' movements to quickly respond with her own. She still didn't like these crowded areas. In general, she didn't care for cities at all. They were too soft and too busy, and most of the people there were fools. Pampered, weak and ignorant. Just looking around her she gauged that she could massacre many of the citizens around her before any guards showed up. By then, with how many dark corners and alleyways there were, she would be gone by the time they did. If she wanted to leave, anyway. She probably would have stayed and fought, wanting to test just how good at their jobs these servicemen were.

Just a little nostalgic woolgathering, she relented with an inaudible sigh, and pushed onward. As much as she disliked this, Kryssis was in one of those situations where it would be best to push her way through her disdain if she wanted to return to a even a remote sense of normality. Because it was either that, or she remain on this path that led to gods knew where. When she finally emerged from the tangle of bodies, she found herself on the edge of an equally busy port district. Wooden latices reaching out in all directions, early hauls of fish, crates and chests of whatever had been brought to sell. Not what she was interested in. She wanted a ship taking passengers, one that would get her across the ocean. The salty breeze assaulting her was, at this point, not new to her. She didn't mind it, but didn't much care for it either. She carried on down the docks, eyes roaming the assorted vessels for any potential choices. After several minutes, she finally spied one where it looked like people were boarding. Of course, that was only the second thing she'd noticed. The first and foremost was just how many damned guns there were. An impressive array, no doubt. She knew enough to realize that no mere civilian galley would have that kind of compliment, nor build. That was a warship.

Rolling her neck, she set out toward it. There was a man stood just near the boarding plank, and another at its head speaking to a man wearing fine, black clothing. She figured he must be the captain, and approached the ship cautiously, keeping an eye out for anything.. remiss, she supposed. She paused at the foot of the plank, not out of courtesy, but resigning herself to listen for the moment.




Nimba skittered back when Damaya returned, bearing a finely clothed elf along with her, this time. She frowned, pensively, and seated herself back on the railing of the ship to see what happened. When he introduced himself, stating that he was apparently some well known writer, Nimba - not realizing she was matching Adrian's line of thought - softly murmured, "Not a clue." She found it funny how people could be so presumptuous about their perceived fame. That usually meant you had money, and if his clothes were any indicator then he certainly did, and quite a pretty penny to his name! In that case, she figured, stop flouting it and spend some already! Setting gripping the rail with both hands, she leaned back some and turned her eyes behind to the dock just in time to see two men approaching the ship. "Oh, he's gonna love this," she snickered.

As Adrian took his leave of Requinn, Nimba hopped down and decided to tag along, flashing a cheeky smile at the elf on the way by. At the last second she changed her mind, and followed behind Damaya. "I didn't realize we were running a yom'tei shaba. What's wi-" She came to an abrupt halt when the woman threw her a curious glance. Nimba sighed, "Basically party boat. You know, something where p-"

"I'm well aware of what you mean, Nimba," she responded sharply. "We're more than able to take on passengers, and people would prefer to travel safely over open water." Damaya shook her head, "What could be more inviting than a vessel made to survive open combat?"

The Yi Aba huffed, "They'd better know our rates are high, then."

"And that they'll be getting their money's worth in dinner?" Not even a grin from the woman, but her tone did the job just as well.

Nimba narrowed her eyes, "That.. you.. wey'ha mo bado." She spat, jabbing a finger at the elf. She quickly turned back around and tromped across the deck, more or less the way she'd come, stopping just a few feet away from the gangplank to lean against the side of the ship. Twice so far in the space of an hour she's had to cool off. She was starting to feel like this was a very bad idea. Just as that crossed her mind, she looked off and spotted quite the sight: a Naran. An upper body that looked like a human woman, but instead of legs she had a very long black tail. A heavy groan escaping her lips, Nimba grumbled, "About time."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya Character Portrait: Requinn Voss Character Portrait: Riktor Fortis Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Sarasa Zyakala
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"Welcome aboard, Mr. Voss. I am Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof, Captain of the Anya."

Of course, Requinn already knew his name. He had done his research on the man before stepping into the light. Hailing from Nàsk, the captain had caught Requinn's interest two years earlier for retrieving a lodestone for the queen of Nàsk, and he had been trying ever since to get an agent inside the queen's court for access to that very stone, though thus far, to no avail. There could be no doubt that the captain doubted his story, and though it was embellished, it was certainly not completely false. Requinn had indeed written a few books on magic and military tactics, though they were published centuries earlier, and he was, in some respects, an archaeologist, as the study of lodestones inevitably led to the study of ancient cultures. The important thing was that the captain believed him to be a little full of himself, a little unorthodox, but generally harmless, and to that end, he shook the captain's hand just a little too firmly, and held on for just a little too long. Adrian seemed to be the type of man that paid attention to the details, much like Requinn himself, and it was the small things that mattered the most.

Requinn was about to respond with thanks, when a voice interrupted:"Hail there! Might i speak to the captain of this vessel?" Requinn glanced in the direction it came from, spying a pair of human men boarding the ship as the first of the two spoke. Mercenaries, by the way they dressed and carried themselves, but Requinn knew better than to assume anything based solely on appearance. No one found this ship by chance. Like Requinn, they were looking for it. He reconsidered the necessity of undertaking this venture in person, but reminded himself that he couldn't afford to be cautious when a lodestone was within his grasp. On the newcomers, Requinn figured that as sellswords, their loyalty could be bought, and he was good at buying things. Adrian politely excused himself from the conversation to address the mercenaries, to which Requinn nodded in understanding before turning his attention away from the men, just in time to catch a young girl brush past him, giving him a mischievous grin.

The girl was a Yi Aba, a people Requinn was actually quite familiar with. It was a Yi Aba caravan that he traveled with for a while after leaving Rexia, and though he never understood many of their customs, he did feel a sense of kinship. After all, they became wanderers after their home was taken from them, much like Requinn himself. In part because of his fondness for the Yi Aba, and in part because he had nothing more important to do, he glanced after the girl, who had followed Damaya a short distance. Either she wasn't aware, or didn't care that she was still within earshot, as she spoke irreverently about Requinn and the other guests, though Damaya quieted her concerns. The girl ardently exclaimed that their guests should pay a high price for passage, and Damaya countered that as well, sending the Yi Aba plodding back, defeated. She leaned herself against the rail, looking rustled. Requinn made his way over, silent in step in spite of the cane, and lightly tapped the girl on the shoulder.

" 'Anger is as a stone cast into a hornet's nest...' At least, according to the philosopher whose name I can't seem to recall at the moment." Requinn spoke in a friendly tone, leaning off of his cane and onto the railing beside Nimba and offering a warm smile. He traced her gaze down to the docks to see two Narans, one Naralin and one Naraga. Wonderful. We'll be transporting a giant snake.
He turned his gaze back to Nimba.
"The first mate called you Nimba. Lovely name, it is. I'm Requinn Voss. I suspect you overheard me introduce myself to your captain, but I'm a firm believer in proper introductions." He bowed slightly, and continued with a chuckle. "...And you shouldn't worry overmuch about preparing fine meals, at least for me. I am not picky."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya Character Portrait: Balor Palamet Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack Character Portrait: Requinn Voss Character Portrait: Riktor Fortis Character Portrait: Sarasa Zyakala
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#, as written by Juular
The morning brought such a calming air with it. Sometimes he pondered whether or not the lands shielded by the dark of night were refreshed by the coming of each new day, the troubles of the old cast away. Fanciful musings, but there was hardly anything wrong with that, now was there? Balor sat on the floor of a balcony overlooking a stretch of the city Saridur, pipe stem between his teeth and hat resting beside him, the low hanging tip nearly sagged to the floor by its own weight. The rich, scented smoke curled up through the air, forming into dizzying waves through which the sunlight shone brighter than on its own. He moved the stem, and turned his eyes back down to a leather bound book resting in his lap. The words scrawled in a messy hand, ink soaked into the thick yellowing parchment, were little more than thoughts and observations. His daydreams chronicled with care, simply for the sake of putting them down. They would be gone on their own from his mind in time, anyway. It was little more than his own private exercise, and one he took to often. He had first taken to doing so.. oh, what was it? Four hundred? No. Five hundred years ago? Possibly, give or take. It had been around the time of the great war against the Rexian Empire, but he could not remember exactly when. The war being the catalyst made the most sense, given how enormous an event it had been. Then, with a slight smile, he closed the book, tucked it into a bag sat opposite the hat's position, and decided it was time to go.

He decided to take a path leading through the city's bazaar. It was narrow, and quite crowded, but he enjoyed the energy. The color. He quietly observed the citizens going about their daily routines, which included the merchants in their stalls. He paused to hear a man proclaiming the potency of his poultice. Balor looked shortly at some of the mixture resting in a bowl. While he was not the most accomplished alchemist, preferring spells to physical magics and medicinals, he thought it looked like little more than damp soil mixed with red pepper and mineral oil. With a chuckle in his throat, he continued through the market. The first stop was not the last, and soon he found himself looking over stalls selling fruits and vegetables, beautifully crafted jewelry, and even finely woven rugs. He rarely purchased from such vendors, what he truly enjoyed about them was the character they brought to a city. The different people milling about, the scent of fresh food, and the many sights and sounds all packed into such a small space. He appreciated the personality of it all. Amidst them, they saw nothing but an old man and his walking stick taking an early morning stroll through the market. Such anonymity humbled him, and made him feel even more relaxed within the multitude. It was not his desire to be any less than what he was, but it did remind Balor that he was still just a mortal man standing among many others. It was something he never forget, and truly hoped he never would.

When he at last broke through the undulating currents of the bazaar, Balor turned his gaze upon a line of ships. While there were several that seemed like they might fit his purpose, they were not what he was looking for. He knew his ship when it caught his eye, and he set off for it at a comfortable pace. Of course he was not the only one, he rarely was on these sorts of "outings". The first, mostly because of their size, was almost certainly a Bosphorean. He'd met only a few in his time, and they had all been strikingly alien to most other races in frame of mind. Then there was a woman clothed in leather and fur, two swords at her sides. There was something familiar about her, and something sinister- having not quite to do with her, but a presence.. lingering. Another two, possibly mercenaries by their dress, had arrived as well. Lastly, two Narans looked to be approaching the ship as well. He thought he saw a High Elf already boarded, stood near the side of the ship speaking to a girl obviously of Yi Aba descent. Finally there was a man whom he immediately pegged for the captain. The ship was very clearly from Nàsk, and this man's clothes and demeanor struck him as highly reminiscent of that nation's people. Yes, this was most certainly the right ship.

Balor emptied the last dregs of ash from his pipe, tucked it away, and strode toward the vessel: which, as he noticed, had been named Anya. "Good morning," he proclaimed in his thick, rumbling voice while setting foot onto the boarding ramp. He dipped his head to the captain, "Forgive me for interrupting, I hate to be a bother. I was wondering if perhaps your ship would be headed for the isles of the Sea Elves? You see, I've heard rumors that there might be a lodestone hidden there, and I would very much like to discover whether or not these tales are true." He smiled warmly at the captain, not for a moment concerned that he had just laid out plainly his intentions. This was a scene he'd played in many a time before, and he had long ago abandoned all pretense otherwise.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya Character Portrait: Balor Palamet Character Portrait: Requinn Voss Character Portrait: Sarasa Zyakala
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Possibly the last thing Nimba expected was for the High Elf to join her. She flinched when something touched her shoulder, and she came whirling around wide-eyed to face him, instinctually expecting some sort of threat- she even had a hand raised, ready to strike. She was very quickly lulled back into a state of calm when he started to speak. " 'Anger is as a stone cast into a hornet's nest...' At least, according to the philosopher whose name I can't seem to recall at the moment." First she hoped he wasn't about to go on some philosophical tangent, then she started wonder why exactly he was mentioning "anger" of all things. When it finally clicked, her cheeks started to fill with heat. She had just long enough to consider this because his train of thought tripped for a moment as he looked off at something else, and then he was right back at it, "The first mate called you Nimba. Lovely name, it is. I'm Requinn Voss. I suspect you overheard me introduce myself to your captain, but I'm a firm believer in proper introductions." He bowed a little to her- he actually.. bowed- and then, with a chuckle, went on. "...And you shouldn't worry overmuch about preparing fine meals, at least for me. I am not picky."

Nimba laughed uneasily, "Well, in that case: Nimba Hawteeya." She shifted, looking just a bit uncomfortable, "So you, uh.. you heard that, then? Na ro'n pel, I'm sorry about that. Wasn't so much 'bout cooking anything good, but more making 'speciality' stuff. You know," she started pacing back and forth, gesticulating as she spoke, her mind beginning to work itself into a frenzy again, "They'd prefer a steak, medium rare, dusted with garlic and cloves. Maybe a side of soup: heavy on the potato, just a little bit of salt and some cheese. Really demanding stuff. Like they forget I'm already cooking for the rest of the crew, or some loii. I mean, ama wo'in du, if they literally can't eat something, then that's different. I'm talking abo-" She ground herself to a stop, furrowed her brow, and said, "I'm.. talking again, and getting carried off." She sighed exasperatedly, and shook her head, dark tresses tossing side-to-side, "Sorry. Again." She rolled her eyes, "I tend to do that..." Her words trailed off, and for that moment she almost sounded worn out.

She squinted up at Requinn for a second or two, and realized that he wasn't a Sea Elf, despite his hair. He was a High Elf! She'd always heard mixed things about these "High" Elves. Not much experience with them, herself. In fact, she'd have to think hard to remember an occasion where she'd actually met one, herself. Some said they were just like everyone else: they could be all right, and they could be unbearable. Others maintained they were all a bunch of stuck up "holier-than-thou" types. From what she could tell with Voss, though.. he seemed well enough, this one. Nimba had never been one to really listen to rumors, after all, much of the hate for her own people came from similar stories.

After clearing her throat she said, "Uh, anyway... Assuming the Cap'n ever gets around to giving you the okay - I mean, why wouldn't he? - I don't think you're really gonna be a problem." She thumbed toward the Naraga, "Not too sure 'bout that one." She shrugged, linking her hands behind her back and turned her attention to Adrian once more, just in time to see an old bearded man with a very tall hat coming up the plank. "Oh. We've.. actually got several more, now." From where she stood, Nimba could still make out the man's words. After he'd finished talking, however, her jaw was nearly on the floor. She couldn't believe it. The old codger just came out of the blue that he was going after this rock?! Why would he...? She shook her head, dumbfounded, and not sure whether to label him as senile or stupid.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Balor Palamet Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack Character Portrait: Requinn Voss Character Portrait: Riktor Fortis Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Sarasa Zyakala
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As the two Naran approached the ship that would be ushering them to their destination, several figures came into sight. Several humans in varying amounts of clothing, a "High" Elf in savage drab, and what looked to be a mobile mountain who'd lost its way and wound up at the docks. The humans--the old one, the painted one, the one with the hair--were all, as humans generally are, uninteresting as far as savages go. The Elf was a contemptible mass of flesh that would probably be flung overboard en route for making some smug comment about how great his empire was, forgetting that it fell apart the very moment it fought something competent. The human shaped boulder, though, that was something to look at. You generally didn't see something of its size milling about savage cities, and here it was, peering at the ship meant for Sarasa.

While Ravadhi's attention was on the captain of the ship--Arian or Adrian, something like that--as he addressed this collection of supposed passengers, Sarasa didn't hear or care what he had to say. Her attention was on the aforementioned mountain that stood near the ship, with her mind wondering what it was. A tuskless Naraji? A Naraka that has lost its horn? A Geir? By the time she had had enough of her own inner musings, the two Naran had reached the assmebly of oddities played out before the ship's ramp. Ravadhi's posture hadn't changed since entering the city, and his only concern, being the only one with a reserved place on the damn ship unlike all these random savages, chuckled at the words of the captain. He would quite like to see barbarians and old men and High Elves scrubbing the floors for their lack of foresight.

Sarasa, finally bringing herself to pay attention to her surroundings that weren't eight feet of armor, brought her body down to a more humanoid level to whisper into the ear of her rigid protector. "What is that standing there?" She peered back at the figure that had caught her eye, before quickly turning towards the Naralin, expectant of an answer.

"That is a Bosphorean, a giant from the wastelands." He looked about, expecting someone to come to greet their guests and take them to their room. "They're more respectable than most savages, but they lack any of the reason that could take them beyond such a state. What it's doing so far from its blasted home I haven't the slightest idea."

As Sarasa looked towards the mountain that now had a name applied to it, she grasped the silken rags that covered her head and put overhanging hood back by her shoulders. It had been noisily flapping with the poisoned breeze and her hair was beginning to stick to her back, desperate to be set free of the savage clothing, and so it was. She would still restrain herself from actually tearing the entirety of the cloth that covered her body until she had reached her quarters on the ship, as her sister and Ravadhi had told her to, but every second spent thinking about it made her body squirm. The street behind Sarasa became hazardous as her tail began swaying erratically, preventing people from coming with fifteen feet of her and keeping any other spur-of-the-moment passengers from showing up from this direction.

Noticing this, Ravadhi breached his way through the gathering crown with Sarasa, tail consciously restrained to prevent knocking anyone off the docks, and approached the ramp. "I'll assume that doesn't apply to those who've already paid for passage onto your ship, Captain. As such, I would like to take my lady aboard while you deal with these people, if you wouldn't mind making way and having someone lead us to our quarters."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya Character Portrait: Balor Palamet Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack Character Portrait: Requinn Voss Character Portrait: Riktor Fortis Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof
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A slight breeze blow across Riktor's face and the sound of water lapping against the hull of the ship mixed in with the musings of it's motley crew. A smile spread across his face as he thought back to his time aboard the river barges of Draust during the early days of his career, though in comparison the Anya was far larger and a great deal less rowdy. Past Captain Màstoof Riktor could see the Elven man speaking to a woman, Yi aba by the look of her, and making himself at home aboard the ship. He must have already secured his passage which meant one less spot for Jevan and himself, and one more possible competitor. The captain looked upwards towards the sky and shook his head nonchalantly, as if cursing his current situation. Putting a hand on Riktor shoulder the man then moved past him without a word or passing phrase, not even returning the handshake offered to him. No, instead he stepped past Riktor and Jevan both and began speaking to an elderly gentleman that had strolled up the boarding plank behind the them, and if the captain's dismissal of Riktor's words was not bad enough the decrepit old fool goes and blurts out that he is searching for a lodestone in Naua Te. Not that everyone didn't already know the rumors but the less people searching the better. It was then the captain showed his bravado and gave his little speech to all those gathered around his humble vessel.

"So, you all want passage on my ship? I hope you can pay. And are willing to work for your stay."

So Riktor's first assumption of the man was correct, he was a pirate afterall. He had the ship and the power. Not many ships travel to Naua Te, therefore he could name his price and use his passengers for labor at his leisure. It was of no consequence to Riktor however, for he was use to this sort of treatment. It was then Riktor spotted the various others dotted amongst the waterfront that seemed to be converging on the Anya. It become ever so more apparent to Riktor that his journey had be increasingly more entertaining as more potential passengers emerged, and among them were a great deal of personages of importance.

Standing out the mosy to Riktor was the young woman attired in dark furs and leather straps. Hands resting upon the pomel of her swords and a graceful ferocity shown upon her face. Riktor had travelled many places in his lifetime and met many different people, yet he could not connect her to any peoples he had encountered on past journeys. She could prove to have a very interesting story indeed.

Second to catch Riktor's gaze was the hulking mass of armor standing amongst the others with an almost statue like appearance. Riktor was almost certain that this creature was a Bosphorean, and though he had never met one in person the reputation of these creatures preceded itself.

Last was the she snake. A Naran, Naraga maybe? Well whatever her official name the she snake's servant barked something back towards the captain about prearranged passage and moved past the others there, as well as Riktor. Riktor flashed a toothy grin and shook his head slightly. Of course the Anya would have had an official passenger, why else would it be sailing to Naua Te? Riktor muttered a silent curse at himself then looked back to Jevan.

"Well my friend, I hope you never stopped skimming profits from the guild. This trip may end up costing us."

"Lucky for you I prepared for this Riktor." Jevan said laughingly as he withdrew a purse ripe with coin and handed it to Riktor. "That should do, and if not we could always go for a nice long swim."

Taking the coin Riktor then waited for the captain to continue with instructions on how they should pay.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack Character Portrait: Requinn Voss Character Portrait: Riktor Fortis Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Sarasa Zyakala Character Portrait: Jag of Bosphorous
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Adrian couldn't say that he was wholly surprised with the Naralin's reaction. The wizard appeared to be fine with the proposal, and he didn't know how the others felt abut it. In a way he had been expecting the Naran to remind him about their earlier arrangement. Not that he was begrudging them for it, necessarily. Where he started to feel irked was the venom not even remotely concealed in the man's words. The disgust was evident beyond all doubt. While that did rub him the wrong way, he could not- nor would he- allow it to show. He smiled in a gracious manner and slightly dipped his head, "Good day, sir. Of course. We've been expecting you, and have certainly prepared for your arrival. As to," he briefly glanced at the Naraga, who he had been told was named Sarasa, "the matter of your nature of passage, it is of course certainly secured." Now he turned his attention entirely to the lady of noble bearing waiting in a way he would be pressed to label as patiently. He knew some of their culture, enough to realize that clothing was not something her kind would probably wear. "Milady, I hope the journey has of yet been kind. You do seem troubled by your covering. I can sympathize bearing with discomfort for necessity's sake." Then, with a short and courteous bow, Adrian stepped back and gestured without flair toward the deck of his ship. "I give you the freedom to board the Anya, let us hope your stay will be pleasant." His words were careful, respectful, and firm. Allowing much room for insinuation, and even more for speculation.

He straightened, arm returning to his side, and slid his eyes across the rest of the assembled. There was still a High Elf on his ship who had not paid for passage, that he had certainly not forgotten. Then the mercenaries who had arrived just after, and who had- with the veritable flood of potentials- been momentarily forgotten. It was not something he had intended to do, and would seek to rectify. They were waiting on something more substantial; instructions on how things were to proceed. With a deep breath and a calm, but friendly expression Adrian began to relay the true terms of boarding his vessel. "If you're happy with the warning, then there is but one more obstacle barring your way. That would be pay. A sum of-" He was cut short by the approaching of the giant. A hand jutted out toward him, and Adrian instinctively leaned off from the extended hand clasping a purse of coin. Eyes half lidded, Adrian stared blankly at the bag then up at the concealing helmet of the beast. How very abrupt, he mused. What had really struck him was the blatant violation of personal space, though he supposed that could be a subjective thing. Did not make it any better.

The bag was heavy when he accepted it, with what felt very much like the right weight. Giving a short nod, Adrian tucked it into his sash for the moment and returned to the matter at hand. "Eight hundred gold pieces. For general hospitality," there was a sly hint to his voice, intended to lighten the mood after having just informed them that their trip would make them at the least eight hundred coins poorer. The price paid to secure the way for Sarasa had been trivial in relative to her family's (or, probably more accurately, her city's) wealth, but most of these besides perhaps the elf did not look like they were exactly swimming in money. Of course looks could be deceptive, but he decided to play it safe. Better to bank a little coin than none. "If you can not afford that, then I am sorry, but there's no place for you on my ship." He shrugged, "Harsh, but this is no luxury ship. This is a warship. Keep in mind that a more extravagant vessel would also be more expensive."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Balor Palamet Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack Character Portrait: Requinn Voss Character Portrait: Riktor Fortis Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Sarasa Zyakala
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Ravadhi listened to the captain's pleasantries and sympathies for the savage rags Sarasa had been forced to wear, he nodded and ascended the ramp without a change of demeanor or an acknowledgement of Adrian's assent to their passage. The claws of his scaled feet found their purchase in the heavy wooden ramp and he reached the safety of the warships deck rather quickly; he was very aware of what might have happened had he lingered too long upon it.

As Ravadhi was quick in his stride, Sarasa merely smiled and nodded slightly in response to the captain's words, apparently even savages could understand the discomfort of the rags they wore. She eased her way slowly to the gangplank, still restraining her heavy tail that was a single moment away from launching an armored giant to their watery, drowny death or smash an old man into the side of the ship, and her belly scales eventually touched the ramp. With her weight finally transferred from the heavily supported dock to the relatively flimsy gangplank, an audible creak could be heard and the once straight wood began to bend. As more and more of her tail left the dock and her center of mass approached the center, a few splinters broke free on the underside of the ramp and she quickened her pace a bit to avoid the uncomfortable situation of fall into the sea. Her guard stood on the deck, arms still crossed, looking down at her for the first time since she reached adolescence; he would have to take swift action if the ever growing possibility of the ramp breaking occurred.

Thankfully, such action and worry was unwarranted, as Sarasa reached the deck of the ship without incident. The ship rocked as it took the weight of the first five or so feet of her body, then the next twenty before stabilizing and the ramp returned to its original, safe shape. The two of them moved away from the ramp to not encounter the future traffic. From their new perspective, they glanced around, Ravadhi examining the others occupying the deck and Sarasa peering over the bits and pieces of the ship that were novel to her, all of them.

Ravadhi glanced from the High Elf, whose attire and lack of action aboard the vessel made him out to be a passenger rather than a part of the crew, to the two armed men who were similarly inactive, very aware that they, and those on the docks who could afford the Anya's price, were all likely there for the same reason. News of a lodestone was spread around pretty much everywhere, and where there's a lodestone there's power, and where there's power there's difficulty and competition. The humans wouldn't serve as too much trouble, as they were never too much trouble when you weren't up against a huge amount of them or you got them away from their ships, but some of the others were definitely dangerous. The High Elf looked wealthy, but alone, making the questioning wonder why he wouldn't send well paid mercenaries to accomplish his goal, or at least bring some along, if he wasn't capable. Not being able to guess his age, though it was probably on the older side, certainly didn't ease any caution Ravadhi had for the man. The Bosphorean, who had wordlessly presented Adrian with the gold as Sarasa ascended the ramp and been welcomed aboard, would also be a challenge, as they were always a challenge even without their incredibly heavy armor. Then there was the old man, who was definitely out of place wielding 800 gold coins and going on a dangerous journey if he wasn't capable, or senile; both could be problematic.

While Ravadhi scanned their competition and organized his thoughts, Sarasa was inspecting every piece of wood and fabric and rope she could see. While the size of it all wasn't necessarily impressive--Svariz being known for oversized, Naraga-friendly structures and all--but she had never seen any of it before. The feeling of actually being on a ship had also been something she would need to get accustomed to, as the swaying of her upper body was much maligned by the swaying of the stationary ship. After she'd taken in everything that seemed interesting of the wooden marvel, she again peered at the Bosphorean as their gold was being taken by the savage captain. She was rather glad to see that they had been accepted amongst the humans and the High Elf, for they were of a somewhat respectable race and possessed a daunting stature. Most of all, she wanted to see what a Bosphorean looked like under the armor, or if that just happened to be their skin.

As the out-of-place pair glanced about, one of the crewmen approached, likely to tell them where exactly the intended passenger would be staying, as well as to be subjected to the numerous questions Ravadhi would be asking about the journey. Time, weather, food, water, noise, safety with the new passengers, all would be answered or the irritable Naralin would have to go about pestering others for the information.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Freed Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya Character Portrait: Balor Palamet Character Portrait: Kryssis Wyvernjack Character Portrait: The Strange Watcher Character Portrait: Requinn Voss
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Requinn listened as Nimba went on about cooking specialty meals, occasionally slipping into her native tongue. Requinn had not bothered to learn the language of the Yi Aba, as the group that had taken him in was relatively well versed in the vox altus, though now he wished he had, as it could have proven useful.

"I'm talking abo- ..I'm.. talking again, and getting carried off." She sighed, and Requinn gave a soft smile. "Sorry. Again. I tend to do that..." Her voice died down and she took a closer look at Requinn, who pretended not to notice, though he saw the exact moment that she realized he wasn't a sea elf, the surprise glinting clearly in her brown eyes. Requinn nodded, halfway a response to her apology, and halfway an acknowledgement of her realization. As annoying as she thought she was being, Requinn felt her tendency to ramble was endearing, like a child blissfully babbling about anything and everything. He made a mental note to strike up another conversation with her during the journey. She cleared her throat and continued: "Uh, anyway,a ssuming the Cap'n ever gets around to giving you the okay - I mean, why wouldn't he? - I don't think you're really gonna be a problem. Not too sure 'bout that one." She motioned to the Naraga and shrugged. "Oh. We've.. actually got several more, now." She voiced Requinn's thoughts almost exactly. Despite the two narans, the lumbering bosphorean approaching the ship that he had clocked just moments earlier during Nimba's rambling, the barbarian woman on the docks scoping out the ship, and the two mercenaries, the newest arrival, an elderly human in dark grey robes and a pointed hat, was absolutely the most interesting.

The man was a wizard, there was no doubt. Even from this distance, Requinn could smell the magic on him. It radiated from him like light from the sun, and it flooded Requinn's senses when he turned his attention to the man. Partly because the high elves were not the only species capable of magic,and partly because they were so naturally good at it, the Pax Alma trained in the detection of magic and effective ways to fight against it, but Requinn had never before encountered a human with this man's level of mastery. Then the wizard spoke, and, judging by Nimba's expression, his words had a similar effect on her as they did on Requinn. He didn't even hide his intentions like the rest of the group assembled. Requinn half expected the captain to kick him off or cut him down right there, but to his surprise, Adrian chuckled.

Time for a new strategy.

Still keeping his attention on the captain and the group, Requinn turned to Nimba and spoke, his tone steady and serious.
"He's the smartest out of all of us. He's the most dangerous person aboard this ship now and they all think he's an idiot. It'd be ironic if it weren't so frightening." He furrowed his brow put his hand gently on Nimba's shoulder and leaned back onto his cane. "Now if you'll excuse me, I believe I owe your captain some money. For my sake, please be careful around some of these passengers."

He turned from Nimba and made his way towards the captain, but stay back just a bit. The bosphorean had made it's way onto the ship and silently paid it's way. Nothing had been broken yet, so that was a good sign. Requinn had encountered bosphoreans twice before in his life, though he had read a great deal about them. The first time he was forced to resort to killing the brute because it insisted that he had stolen it's coinpurse. He had taken it, of course, but no amount of maneuvering could get him out of that situation. Luckily, that one was without any armor, so all Requinn had to do was leap up and deliver a swift strike at the base of the neck. The second was more reasonable, taking three chests of Requinn's gold and two of his agents as slaves in exchange for it's services as an enforcer. This one, however, appeared neither particularly chatty nor lacking in armor, so Requinn decided he would simply avoid it altogether.

The Naran's had apparently pre-arranged a passage, and from the arrogant way the Naraga carried herself, along with the fact that her Naralin bodyguard did all the talking, Requinn deduced that she was nobility. Disgusting. Svaris was one of the few places Rexia deigned to trade with simply because the Narans were not humans, and were thus looked upon more kindly. Requinn felt the exact opposite. While he disliked the human nations to a certain degree, he preferred them over the Narans, especially the Naraga, who would enslave or kill all the other races and nations if they had the ability. He had no qualms with using people to achieve his own goals, but at least his goals were in the pursuit of prosperity and peace. The suffering of others was acceptable if it advanced the greater good, but in Requinn's experience, the Naragans enjoyed watching others grovel, and that was unforgivable.

Next on Requinn's mind were the two mercenaries, who introduced themselves while he was conversing with Nimba, but he didn't bother to listen. They posed little threat. Even if they did manage to best everyone else and get the stone, he was confident they didn't actually know how to use it, and then there were a number of ways he could retrieve it from them. He wondered how loyal they were to each other, toying with the idea that he could turn them against one another, or possibly hire them against one of the other parties. If they didn't die on the upcoming adventure and if they proved skilled enough, Requinn could always use more sword arms.

Adrian asked for 800 gold coins, a paltry sum really, as Requinn had expected nearly twice that. He turned his back to the crowd and palmed a small glass container with a note inside that he'd prepared to signal his agent in Saridur, leaned against the railing as if he was looking out to sea, and casually dropped into the lapping waves below. After they had set sail, his agent would collect the container and read the note inside. Then he turned back and removed two small coinpurses from his robe, checked their labels to insure they had the proper amount of coins, and looked to Adrian. The captain looked almost swamped by the amount of passengers, though unsurprisingly, he appeared content with the amount of gold he was pocketing. Requinn decided to give the man some space, and waited patiently. After all, the captain wasn't going anywhere without collecting everyone's money.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nimba Hawteeya Character Portrait: Requinn Voss Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Sarasa Zyakala Character Portrait: Jag of Bosphorous
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Nimba resigned herself to watching the spectacle of the gathering unfold. Especially once the rutting reptilian thing started its chattering. Contempt for another race? That would be most hypocritical of her, given her peoples' general treatment at large. It would also be a very mortal thing of her- some might even say very human thing. Wasn't the case, though. She didn't really know enough about the Narans to have some kind of centralized opinion on them. She also refrained from labeling an entire race built upon a stereotype for aforementioned reasons, and even though that was hard given just how damned well human she was she more or less managed it. In any case, her disdain for the creature boiled up because of its tone. She'd seen plenty of nobles, or even just the moderately wealthy, who'd developed this kind of cancerous delusion that the world still owed them something after handing them so gods damned much. It made her scratch her head. Hell, it made her pissed. Her mouth worked into a frown, and her brow creased the longer she looked at them and thought about it. At least they were paying. You know, giving of themselves to those who could actually use it. And the gold was good, after all. Hard to argue with cold hard coin. Especially when there was enough of it to almost swim in.

The armored giant.. thing that had stepped forward just a bit before the snake- oh, how she loved and loved and loved that this girl was a snake; so many wonderfully bad jokes- gave her a moment's pause, as well. I mean, wow that thing was big. She wondered if size was in any way relative to its intelligence. That thought bubble lasted for about a minute, and then Nimba was sniggering at how Adrian reacted to the thing just shoving a bag full of gold in his face. Probably the only time the man would've ever thought the act of somebody paying him to be flat out rude. If anything it was a funny enough scene just because of the awkward lingering tension in the air as he sized it up before finally accepting the purse. Damn, then she started wondering just how they would fit aboard the Anya. Man, oh man. Afterward he went on his bit about how he felt for her and could relate to her and wow she never got tired of how good he'd gotten as schmoozing with these sorts of people - for a moment there she heard "people" in the exact same tone the Naralin had used earlier to describe the other potential passengers.

Just as she was pushing herself off the side of the ship, her attention was called back to Voss. He was talking to her, but his eyes were still locked onto the others. She got the feeling that he was just as concerned about them as she was, though.. maybe not for the same reasons? Probably. Nimba was just in this. Requinn foreseeable had other goals, she assumed. "He's the smartest out of all of us. He's the most dangerous person aboard this ship now and they all think he's an idiot. It'd be ironic if it weren't so frightening."

Nimba cocked her head to one side, "Huh?" She asked, looking a little bit like a dolt with the face she made. Wasn't long before she put two and two together and realized he probably meant the old guy who'd just announced himself as a target to all the others. "Oh."

He went on anyway, paying her momentary lapse no mind. He even laid a hand on her shoulder, which made her once again instinctively tense up, "Now if you'll excuse me, I believe I owe your captain some money. For my sake, please be careful around some of these passengers." Then he just walked off.

She was at a bit of a loss, there. Had he just...? Yeah, he.. he had. He'd actually said something in a way that.. kind of sounded like he'd been concerned for her? Well, that was weird. Not really in a bad way, no, just... Strange. She folded her arms, shifting weight to another foot and raising an eyebrow curiously. Her gaze flickered to the snake and the lizard, who looked like they were trying to find somebody who'd take them to their "quarters" or something. With a derisive snort, she looked back at Adrian. It's not like she was gonna volunteer for that chore. As petty as it sounded, she could hardly bring herself to think about them. Why in the world would she want to actually have to deal with them? Ew. That would almost make her feel like she was getting involved with this madness. Better some other poor soul on the crew do it. In what was either a moment of clarity or her trying to condone staying out of it, she figured that "escorting" them would end with her flying off the rails during or fuming in a corner after the fact.

Yeah. She was just dandy where she was.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Balor Palamet Character Portrait: Requinn Voss Character Portrait: Riktor Fortis Character Portrait: Adrian Ronuad des Màstoof Character Portrait: Sarasa Zyakala Character Portrait: Jag of Bosphorous
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#, as written by Juular
So much variety, Balor mused with attentive eyes. First came the Bosphorean, literally pushing their money onto the poor captain who seemed swamped with so many who sought to board his vessel. Obviously not accustomed to the mannerisms the species, who were so uncommon beyond their own land, were capable of. The captain regarded the formidable being curiously, and with an air that said he did not very much like manner of the presentation of the gold. Still, he accepted it nonetheless. A judicious man, this one. It seemed he was cool under pressure, as well. He did seem rather experienced, for his age. He watched the Narans ascend the ramp, confirmation of their voyage arrangements settled. He would have pitied the gangplank, were it capable of feeling pain. The sheer amount of stress it was being put under. He shuddered to think. The Naraga's crossing alone nearly caused it to crack and send her down into the waters below. That would have been most unfortunate, not the least of which for her pride, of course. It seemed things were starting to get underway, and Balor decided he should tarry no longer.

He stepped back onto the boarding ramp, sifting through his satchel simultaneously. "I know I have it here, somewhere," he grumbled under his breath, brushing aside small books, sheets of paper, a few fetishes and an old, faded strip of painted cloth. He furrowed his brow at this last one, "Now, what were you?" He wondered, coming close to losing track of his thoughts momentarily. He shook his head, returning to the matter at hand, and continued digging. Seconds later he smiled, "Ah! There we are." He grasped three sacks of coin between his fingers and lifted them out, holding them for the captain to procure. "This should, I believe, suffice," he said with a smile.