Connection and Contention (IC)

[TheWombatOfDoom]

CONNECTION & CONTENTION


Index:
Recruitment Thread ( http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=251484)
(Tell your friends!)
In Character Thread ( http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=252094)
(I don't know why you'd click on it if you're already here, but still.)
Out of Character Thread (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=252223)
(For Setting Details and Discussion)

~

In the realm of Arteria, people live and die, love and hate, come and go. Stories come from every way of life, from Paupers to Priests, Kings to Killers. Some seek vengeance, others reward, and others look for comfort. But each of us is searching for something in the end. Each has a part to play in the Grand Scheme, and some may never even know what they did. Everything is connected through our actions. Guilds contend and enemies rally against the other. From the Empire of the Seven Dragons, to the coasts along The Reach, trouble is brewing. The world is ever a change, and all we can do is attempt to come out on top, or die trying.

~


Open spoiler for the Map of the continent Arteria:
http://i46.tinypic.com/14y4n7d.jpg

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Starting us all off!

Graeden yawned widely as he observed the sun rising with approval. Means I can go soon, he thought happily. The sleepy guard was one of the many guards that compromised this week’s night watch. Each week, a new group would be cycled in, and Graden happened to have picked the short straw this week. As he reached one of the many round turrets along the massive city wall, he stopped and peered out across the country side south of the city. He sucked in the morning air, and let it out with an explosive sigh. He was going to sleep well tonight. A party of raiding orcs from The Reach had made the night more interesting than most, claiming that their quarry was inside and began ordering Graeden and his men to open the south gate. That didn’t sit too well with the commander of Graeden’s platoon. After a few moments of shouting back and forth, warning shots were fired amongst the orc party, and the noisy leader began to curse. They moved on shortly their after without further encouragement.

Graeden began return path down his section of the wall, this time looking into the city. It already showed signs of life. Shop owners getting wares ready for the day, runners running messages here or there, smoke rising from glassblowers, bakeries and blacksmiths. I’ll never get used to this backwards shift, he said to himself grumpily. “Everyone’s starting while I’m about to go to sleep. Good thing I live alone. Last thing I need is something keeping me up.”

The sun was gleaming off buildings now. The cathedrals to the Parthenon rising out over toward the Temple District gleamed brilliantly in their gilded roofs and stylized crenulations. The Old Palace and Council Building sprang over the cityscape just behind them in the Noble District. He wondered briefly who designed the city in the first place. Whoever it was was thinking strategically, he thought as he admired the fact that no buildings were placed up against the wall. Even the buildings were planned well. They grew in size as they progressed into the city, making defenders always have the height advantage. Graeden hoped it would never come to something like that, but he felt comforted by the fact that it was in place - in case. As he was staring off, he got tapped on the shoulder. He started, and turned. His relief was here. “Ambros!” he said heartily, “Aren’t you a sight for medusa to look upon!”

“And not a moment too soon, it seems,” said Ambros with a laugh. “Looked like you were getting the long stare.” They exchanged information of the happenings of the night, and when all was said, Ambros clapped Graeden on the back. “Sleep well my friend. Sleep well.”

As Graeden sleepily wandered off to bed, he wondered a bit sadly what exactly he’d miss while he slept.

[Monodominant]

Posted by Deneth Vims

Paperwork, paperwork paperwork.

Those were the three key words of his position these days.

The council demanded constant updates.
The guilds requested constant updates.
The men and women under his command needed constant updates.

Sure, he had lieutenants for this short of thing but ever since Lieutenant Annika Firles had left the force he really could not trust anyone. One third of his command was probably 'politicals'... one way or another affiliated with either 'The Particulars' or other shadowy organisation. The rest were generally... good people.

With a long drawn out sigh he opened the desk drawer and glanced at the bottle of gnomish whiskey... 8 years and counting... ever since that damned priest had told him he would not approve any more Longevity elixirs if he kept squandering his years with the drink.

He rubbed his eyes and closed the drawer. One more all nighter and yet 2 stacks of reports, requisitions and requests were on his desk. He could hear the soft snoring of the corporal outside that was his aid and he wished he could have as few worries as that 'green' boy did. He leaned back on his chair, glancing at the fire place and as always pondering the tossing of all papers in the flames 'a freak accident' he would call it.

With a tired smile he got up and looked out his window. The Mage Quarter precinct had prospered even more in the past few years. Less arcane activity meant less cases he couldnt solve due to their very nature... more funds for his precinct meant that the already most well-funded and respected of the precincts got to flourish even more. A small stables, a bigger barracks and an armory had been added along with the latest set of refurbishments.

Deneth walked to his closet and took off his fancy shoes, opting for a pair of well-walked boots. Indeed as his predecessor had told him, worn out boots could read the streets. He opened his window, replaced his official looking coat with that of a beat sergeant and stepped unto the roof.

A route he had done so many times got him on the ground behind the precinct just as the patrolling guardsmen passed and he stayed in the shadows watching Aldhavens finest walk past him.

"Well, time for a short walk around the block!" he told himself as the morning mists began to clear and the city started coming alive.

[planswalker]

Just outside of the city of Aldhaven, largest and most powerful of the free city-states of Asarenholm. The Astrines are the newest member of the Council of Ten. The mistress of this household, the countess Jana Astrine, spent her youth resurrecting the long-lost House Astrine with a combination of political maneuvering, financial backing, and the legitimacy of being the true heir to the family.

All through the decades of turmoil that ended with her at the head of the newest noble family in Aldhaven and the formation of the Council of Ten, whispers have abounded about her chief operative. Whenever something needed to be done... unofficially to aid her in her rise to power, things happened. Her chief adviser, a small fellow no bigger than an adolescent gnome was the target of endless rumors crediting him with these actions. His emerald scales covered every bit of visible flesh. The webbed spines that start at the center of his drakine forehead and split his head into parallel halves all the way down his neck are eerily identical to those of a green dragon. No one knows his real name, as he refers to himself as Greenwing Drake, chief servant of House Astrine.

In fact, almost nothing is known about this little fellow. Some claim he is a dragonspawn sent from Tiamat to influence politics in Asarenholm. Others think he's a half-dragon with his own agenda. Still others entertain the notion that he is Countess Astrine's secret first lover who has faithfully served and aided her since childhood. The one thing everyone can agree on is that the two have been together from the beginning. When the young woman first entered the Alhaven political scene fifty years ago, he was there too.

The truth is as strange as any rumors people have invented. When Jana was a little girl, a young halfling of draconic ancestry rescued her from some unsavory fae that had abducted her as part of a larger mission. He saw potential in the young girl and befriended her immediately. By the time she was ten, she had already gone on countless adventures with the little green dragon adept.

As she discovered her family's past and her own latent powers, this little green friend of hers was slowly transforming himself into a form that more closely resembled the dragons he revered. By the time he caught the public eye, he was already Greenwing Drake, the confidant of Jana Astrine.

After House Astrine was firmly established in the hierarchy of Aldhaven, Greenwing took on the position of chief adviser to House Astrine. This was a perfect cover for his true role as chief operative and problem-solver for Jana and her family. Whenever there was a matter too delicate to be dealt with officially or when someone's hands needed to be dirtied without catching the public eye, Greenwing Drake was House Astrine's answer.

This morning, House Astrine's boogeyman was snoring. He had spent a long and hard night brokering a deal with his counterpart in House Rocholl that the two would more closely associate their political goals in exchange for some... considerations in each direction. Things had gotten tense when Donnic tried to betray him and set his thugs to kill Greenwing Drake. It had been an exhausting fight to kill them all and then persuade Donnic to deal fairly with him, not to mention the hassle of disposing of all the bodies. Still, months of planning and successful negotiation just paid off. Greenwing had earned his rest.

Naturally, that meant of course that such would be the last thing he got today. Someone had broken into the palace in Aldhaven last night and had absconded with many valuable items from the noble families in Aldhaven. Among them was one of the few surviving relics of House Astrine's past, the Cup of Astrid. The thief had been spotted by the guards last night and things got ugly but he did manage to get away with his stolen loot.

Greenwing Drake had just gotten to sleep when a timid servant woke him to say, "Begging your pardon, sir, but mistress needs to see you."

Of course she does. Heavens know I dare to take even a day's rest between jobs. Greenwing thought drowsily as he roused. "Tell her that I will be awaiting her grace shortly."

Within ten minutes, the little green man was in conference with his closest friend and confidant, ready to once more give his all to helping her achieve her goals. "Jana, what is so urgent and critical that you couldn't have sent one of your other lackeys to start things while I took at least a short nap?" he asked her familiarly. He did not truly mind the inconvenience if she needed him right then, but he would have liked it if trouble could have at least taken the morning off.

[3SecondCultist]

Lanath
After what had felt like an eternity, the sun's rays finally reached through the fabric of the tent. Lanath could feel himself being dragged from his trance, the memories of his home fading away. He woke slowly, violet eyes scanning the room for threats. The tent was just as sparse as he had left it, his equipment hanging on the rack to his left. As he rose, the drow made sure to give his body time to stretch its muscles properly: in order to face the day, he needed to be ready.
Belt, scabbard, blade. Nwul tash. Pauldrons, gauntlets, greaves. Dwzol haskkun. Boots, cloak, spear. Wonoksh Nasus nun. After he had finished, Lanath Orcbane strode through the tent door and into the sun. He found that the light did little to disturb him anymore. Ten years above would do that to a drow. From his position, Lanath surveyed the encampment, nodding slowly at the efficacy of his troops. Tents were already being packed away, the cooking fires burning low. Many of his followers were already prepared for the march. In the blue distance, Lanath could barely make out the outline of a city. Aldhaven. There is a twinge of something within him: guilt perhaps?
It is beautiful - in a profane, surface dweller sort of manner, of course. I suppose I will be sad to see it reduced to ash. Then again, maybe not. Who knows how many long leagues we will cross before we set eyes of Aldhaven again? We have a ways to go yet. Clearing his head of idle thoughts, Lanath made his way over to one of the other tents and waited for his lieutenant to appear. It did not take very long. If nothing else, Lanath's troops were loyal.
"Aumerle! You have the Legion up and running right on schedule, but you know that is not why I am here. Take me to him." The other drow, nodding subserviently, led him into the space. In the cage by the corner lay a man, asleep. His breathing was shallow. Lanath nodded to Aumerle, the latter proceeding to give the prisoner a swift kick through the bars. Satisfied that he was being given the appropriate amount of attention, Lanath stood over the cage and addressed the man.
"Do you know why you are here? Can you tell me? I suppose I might need to refresh your memory. After all, my surgeon tells me you are suffering from several concussive injuries. Well, last night we kidnapped you from the Aldhaven branch of the Morganstern Society. You are our hostage, free to do with as we please. Do you have a name, at least? A real name, that is."

[Exalaber]

Ander of Brent, beginning his story

"Uncle, I only arrived last night, I haven't even said hello to everybody yet! Can't this wait?"
An older, rather heavy set man scowled at his nephew, his red face showing displeasure, and his blue eyes showing regret and sorrow. "No this cannot wait, not even the hour it would take to great your family, and young man, before you argue with me, as long as you are staying here in this house, against my better judgement I might add, you will listen to me! There is trouble brewing in this city, and if you are going to be here, I want you squared away with the society before it starts.
The rest of the walk down the long hall was taken in silence, the great black swaths of silk that hung draped from the ceiling and walls, embroidered with grotesque floral images in silver thread absorbed even the sound of their foot falls. They were both dressed lavishly in the same shade of black silk with the same silver thread at borders and seams, each man, young and old, slender, and fat, short and tall, elf and human, was absorbed in his own thoughts. As they passed the great doors at the far end of the hall, a black lacquered carriage led by white horses met them.

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as Graeden Leventhair to Deneth

Paperwork, paperwork paperwork.

Those were the three key words of his position these days.

The council demanded constant updates.
The guilds requested constant updates.
The men and women under his command needed constant updates.

Sure, he had lieutenants for this short of thing but ever since Lieutenant Annika Firles had left the force he really could not trust anyone. One third of his command was probably 'politicals'... one way or another affiliated with either 'The Particulars' or other shadowy organisation. The rest were generally... good people.

With a long drawn out sigh he opened the desk drawer and glanced at the bottle of gnomish whiskey... 8 years and counting... ever since that damned priest had told him he would not approve any more Longevity elixirs if he kept squandering his years with the drink.

He rubbed his eyes and closed the drawer. One more all nighter and yet 2 stacks of reports, requisitions and requests were on his desk. He could hear the soft snoring of the corporal outside that was his aid and he wished he could have as few worries as that 'green' boy did. He leaned back on his chair, glancing at the fire place and as always pondering the tossing of all papers in the flames 'a freak accident' he would call it.

With a tired smile he got up and looked out his window. The Mage Quarter precinct had prospered even more in the past few years. Less arcane activity meant less cases he couldnt solve due to their very nature... more funds for his precinct meant that the already most well-funded and respected of the precincts got to flourish even more. A small stables, a bigger barracks and an armory had been added along with the latest set of refurbishments.

Deneth walked to his closet and took off his fancy shoes, opting for a pair of well-walked boots. Indeed as his predecessor had told him, worn out boots could read the streets. He opened his window, replaced his official looking coat with that of a beat sergeant and stepped unto the roof.

A route he had done so many times got him on the ground behind the precinct just as the patrolling guardsmen passed and he stayed in the shadows watching Aldhavens finest walk past him.

"Well, time for a short walk around the block!" he told himself as the morning mists began to clear and the city started coming alive.

It was already starting to get busy by the time Graeden had stowed his possessions and checked out with the Watch. There was mention about some trouble in the city between a few colleagues, but that was always the case in this size of a city. The only nice thing about the Night Watch was that it wasn’t as busy as some other posts. In his tenure in this profession, he’d had his fair share of busy posts. Street patrol was one of the most dangerous, especially if you got the wrong district. Noble quarters were just high security, and with high security, came lots of pressure. Needless to say that one had a high turnover rate, even with the amount of hoops you had to jump through in order to land that job. Then there were the reports afterwards to file for each incident. Luckily, he didn’t have to be the sorry sap that had to READ all of those reports. Paperwork was more evil than most of the criminals he’d put away.

Graeden’s nostrils were flaring at the delicious smells coming from the nearest shop. Noting the sounds his stomach was making, he decided to make a stop before he went to sleep. He was always hungry after an overnight, and warm bread sounded good after the cool night. He quickened his step, rounded the corner, and nearly crashed into a Guard who was rounding the corner as well. And not only a guard, but a captain! He swore, and then swore for swearing. By that time he realize he wasn’t getting anywhere and clamped his mouth shut. To try and save the situation, he saluted briskly, and hoped for the best.



Replying as Jana Astrine to Greenwing Drake

This morning, House Astrine's boogeyman was snoring. He had spent a long and hard night brokering a deal with his counterpart in House Rocholl that the two would more closely associate their political goals in exchange for some... considerations in each direction. Things had gotten tense when Donnic tried to betray him and set his thugs to kill Greenwing Drake. It had been an exhausting fight to kill them all and then persuade Donnic to deal fairly with him, not to mention the hassle of disposing of all the bodies. Still, months of planning and successful negotiation just paid off. Greenwing had earned his rest.

Naturally, that meant of course that such would be the last thing he got today. Someone had broken into the palace in Aldhaven last night and had absconded with many valuable items from the noble families in Aldhaven. Among them was one of the few surviving relics of House Astrine's past, the Cup of Astrid. The thief had been spotted by the guards last night and things got ugly but he did manage to get away with his stolen loot.

Greenwing Drake had just gotten to sleep when a timid servant woke him to say, "Begging your pardon, sir, but mistress needs to see you."

Of course she does. Heavens know I dare to take even a day's rest between jobs. Greenwing thought drowsily as he roused. "Tell her that I will be awaiting her grace shortly."


Within ten minutes, the little green man was in conference with his closest friend and confidant, ready to once more give his all to helping her achieve her goals. "Jana, what is so urgent and critical that you couldn't have sent one of your other lackeys to start things while I took at least a short nap?" he asked her familiarly. He did not truly mind the inconvenience if she needed him right then, but he would have liked it if trouble could have at least taken the morning off.

Jana was pacing when Green came into her conference room. Haggard was paying his appearance a compliment. She was sure she looked much the same. Just having Green enter the room visibly calmed her, and she no longer felt the need to pace. She sank into a chair, and glanced at her attendant.

“Please pour Mr. Drake a drink, and then leave us.” The servant nodded, gave Greenwing what he requested, and then left, shutting the door behind.

“Please tell me the fact that you are still here and not out tracking that thief is part of the plan, Green.” She realized that came across harsher than she meant it. She sighed. “Sorry. I’m just…agitated that this happened at all.”

She took a deep breath and folded her hands in front of her at the table. “I know you’ve had a long night. We both have. But it’s more complicated than just the heirloom. You remember that legend we heard a few decades ago about a bracelet that enslaved an efreeti? It actually exists. And worse – it seems Zane has it. If he figures out what he’s stolen…” She let the warning hang in the air.

Replying as Almeran Delante to Lanath

After what had felt like an eternity, the sun's rays finally reached through the fabric of the tent. Lanath could feel himself being dragged from his trance, the memories of his home fading away. He woke slowly, violet eyes scanning the room for threats. The tent was just as sparse as he had left it, his equipment hanging on the rack to his left. As he rose, the drow made sure to give his body time to stretch its muscles properly: in order to face the day, he needed to be ready.
Belt, scabbard, blade. Nwul tash. Pauldrons, gauntlets, greaves. Dwzol haskkun. Boots, cloak, spear. Wonoksh Nasus nun. After he had finished, Lanath Orcbane strode through the tent door and into the sun. He found that the light did little to disturb him anymore. Ten years above would do that to a drow. From his position, Lanath surveyed the encampment, nodding slowly at the efficacy of his troops. Tents were already being packed away, the cooking fires burning low. Many of his followers were already prepared for the march. In the blue distance, Lanath could barely make out the outline of a city. Aldhaven. There is a twinge of something within him: guilt perhaps?
It is beautiful - in a profane, surface dweller sort of manner, of course. I suppose I will be sad to see it reduced to ash. Then again, maybe not. Who knows how many long leagues we will cross before we set eyes of Aldhaven again? We have a ways to go yet. Clearing his head of idle thoughts, Lanath made his way over to one of the other tents and waited for his lieutenant to appear. It did not take very long. If nothing else, Lanath's troops were loyal.
"Aumerle! You have the Legion up and running right on schedule, but you know that is not why I am here. Take me to him." The other drow, nodding subserviently, led him into the space. In the cage by the corner lay a man, asleep. His breathing was shallow. Lanath nodded to Aumerle, the latter proceeding to give the prisoner a swift kick through the bars. Satisfied that he was being given the appropriate amount of attention, Lanath stood over the cage and addressed the man.
"Do you know why you are here? Can you tell me? I suppose I might need to refresh your memory. After all, my surgeon tells me you are suffering from several concussive injuries. Well, last night we kidnapped you from the Aldhaven branch of the Morganstern Society. You are our hostage, free to do with as we please. Do you have a name, at least? A real name, that is."
Alderan was NOT having a good night. It started off well enough. Certain items had been acquired, information had traded into the right hands, he’d found what he’d thought was a nice young lady to spend the night with. And then…well what had happened then? Everything was hazy after that. He vaguely recalled settling into bed…but that is certainly not where he woke up. As his head cleared, he remembered more. He’d woken up in being carried like sack of grain, with a foul taste in his mouth. Drugged. Unfortunately, his usual ways of dealing with problems required him to be clear of thought. Typically, he would have been able to handle individuals. Still, he did manage to twist out of their grip. Unfortunately with his limbs bound, there was nothing stopping him from landing on his head. That’s where the headache came from. He tried to open his eyes, and he nearly threw up. Nope. Not doing that.

He heard voices around him. Shouts - maybe someone barking orders. But he couldn’t understand any of it. Gods, how hard did I fall?!. Moving hurt. Hearing the commotion around him hurt.

WHAM!

But the kick hurt worst of all. Alderan lost whatever was in his stomach. The cool bars of his cage felt good against his brow. He convulsed a few times more, and opened his eyes to know who he owed a “later favor”. Drow. Hostage. S**t. It wouldn’t do him any good pretending to be too hurt to answer. They’d just kick him more. The agony of the first was enough. No, this would require much subtler techniques than subterfuge. Such as not lying, for now. He wants my name? Which! My real name? He wouldn’t believe me if I told him. That’s the tricky part about truth. Even when you told it, people often thought you were lying.

“Alderan.” He managed to gasp out. He belched and began to dry heave.

When he was finished, he rolled on his side. The cage didn’t allow for him to sit up, so it was the best he could do. “What do you want from me?”

[planswalker]

Replying as Jana Astrine

Jana was pacing when Green came into her conference room. Haggard was paying his appearance a compliment. She was sure she looked much the same. Just having Green enter the room visibly calmed her, and she no longer felt the need to pace. She sank into a chair, and glanced at her attendant.
“Please pour Mr. Drake a drink, and then leave us.” The servant nodded, gave Greenwing what he requested, and then left, shutting the door behind.
“Please tell me the fact that you are still here and not out tracking that thief is part of the plan, Green.” She realized that came across harsher than she meant it. She sighed. “Sorry. I’m just…agitated that this happened at all.”

She took a deep breath and folded her hands in front of her at the table. “I know you’ve had a long night. We both have. But it’s more complicated than just the heirloom. You remember that legend we heard a few decades ago about a bracelet that enslaved an efreeti? It actually exists. And worse – it seems Zane has it. If he figures out what he’s stolen…” She let the warning hang in the air.

"Jana, dear, I've told you before: I'm good, but I can't read minds. Last night, I closed the deal with Rocholl so they'll play ball your way for now. It took longer than it should have, six thugs had to die, and I just got back. I'm asleep less than an hour and you rouse me and start on about some plan of mine, an heirloom, "Zane", and an efreeti. You need to slow down. Breathe. No matter how bad things are, there is always time to stop and take stock of things. Remember the cult of Tharizdum? We would never have gotten anywhere if we hadn't done the research first. Start at the beginning. What happened?"

Greenwing loved Jana dearly, but she never has outgrown that excitable streak of hers from her youth. Normally this trait gave her the passion and energy it took to create a noble house from the ground up and grow it into a powerful dynasty. When she gets scared, though, she tends to skip over details.

It has been a long time since she's been so nervous that he hasn't been able to follow her train of thought. Whatever has her rattled, it can't be good.

[3SecondCultist]

Replying as Lanath

Alderan was NOT having a good night. It started off well enough. Certain items had been acquired, information had traded into the right hands, he’d found what he’d thought was a nice young lady to spend the night with. And then…well what had happened then? Everything was hazy after that. He vaguely recalled settling into bed…but that is certainly not where he woke up. As his head cleared, he remembered more. He’d woken up in being carried like sack of grain, with a foul taste in his mouth. Drugged. Unfortunately, his usual ways of dealing with problems required him to be clear of thought. Typically, he would have been able to handle individuals. Still, he did manage to twist out of their grip. Unfortunately with his limbs bound, there was nothing stopping him from landing on his head. That’s where the headache came from. He tried to open his eyes, and he nearly threw up. Nope. Not doing that.

He heard voices around him. Shouts - maybe someone barking orders. But he couldn’t understand any of it. Gods, how hard did I fall?!. Moving hurt. Hearing the commotion around him hurt.

WHAM!

But the kick hurt worst of all. Alderan lost whatever was in his stomach. The cool bars of his cage felt good against his brow. He convulsed a few times more, and opened his eyes to know who he owed a “later favor”. Drow. Hostage. S**t. It wouldn’t do him any good pretending to be too hurt to answer. They’d just kick him more. The agony of the first was enough. No, this would require much subtler techniques than subterfuge. Such as not lying, for now. He wants my name? Which! My real name? He wouldn’t believe me if I told him. That’s the tricky part about truth. Even when you told it, people often thought you were lying.

“Alderan.” He managed to gasp out. He belched and began to dry heave.

When he was finished, he rolled on his side. The cage didn’t allow for him to sit up, so it was the best he could do. “What do you want from me?”

"Alderan. A good enough name, I guess." Lanath leans in towards the cage, not worried about violent retribution in the prisoner's current state. The drow makes sure to look the man right in the eyes. The ghost of a dark smile crosses Lanath's lips as he slips the knife from his sheath and holds out in front of 'Alderan'.
"What do I want? Well, answers to some of my questions would be wonderful. That will come later though. You're a professional, so I'm not going to make any obvious threats yet. But if you do try to escape, keep this in mind." Drawing up the fabric of his sleeve, the drow plunges the blade into his own wrist. He slices open a fair amount of skin, his deep blood spilling out and pooling on the dirt floor. Lanath's initial grimace turns into a full rictus of mixed ecstasy, his eyes never leaving those of the man's.
"I am willing to bleed to make a point. I would have no qualms about killing you. In fact, I think I would rather enjoy it." Lanath chuckles, licking his own blood off of the knife before putting it away. Another victim, another scar. Had the human been paying attention, he would have seen a multitude of similar wounds on the same wrist, albeit much older. They had all healed over time, as would this. It still stung, but the deep motes of pleasure that had come with the self-mutilation were fading. Lanath, now feeling the onset of actual pain, gets up and leaves the tent with Aumerle. Once outside and able to speak freely, he addresses his subordinate.
"We march due east. If we're lucky, we make it to the Aldaris Pass by this time two days from now. Make sure that he is guarded at all hours, and assign some more soldiers to watch the guards covertly. We don't want anyone getting any ideas, now do we?" In the minutes after dismissing Aumerle, Lanath finds himself holding on to his arm.
By Nasus, it really isn't going away. I had best find the surgeon to stitch this up, at least. I like living: bleeding out of an injury like this would not befit one such as me. Still grimacing, Lanath sets off to find one of the field surgeons. He would have to hurry. After all, the march would be beginning soon, and he could little afford to be anywhere other than in the front, leading his Legion.

[Crafty Cultist]

As the first rays of the sun began to make their way through the window of his study, Malenth was already wide awake. His desk was covered in various documents and letters, with one letter in particular occupying his attention this day.


Dear Mr D'Everet

We have recieved word that you wish to join our orginisation. We have seen proof of your ambition, and have decided to meet with you in person to determine if your level of competence is also satisfactory.

One of our members will be waiting for you at the Saphire Swan. Ask the bartender for a glass of goldendew ale and you will be lead to a back room. Once there your ability will be assessed to determine whether or not you are a suitable addition to our orginisation. Do not delay, as time is a valuable asset.

Regards

The letter was signed with an abstract symbol rather than a name. It probably served as some kind of alias to prevent documents from being traced back to the sender.

Malenth grinned as he clutched the letter. This was it. The first step in restoring the D'Everet house to it's former glory. It would be a long struggle, but he was ready for it.

After a quick breakfast and a shave, it was time to leave. Taking his cloak, cane, and hat from the stand near the door, Malenth checked himself in the mirror to make sure he looked presentable.

Garon poked his head through the doorway, his wrinkled face the epitome of polite friendliness. "Heading off now sir? Best of luck."

Malenth nodded at the old manservant. "Thank you Garon. I'll be sure to tell you how everything goes upon my return."

Gathering his things, Malenth steps out into the street and sets out to the upscale tavern mentioned in the letter.

[TechnOkami]

Jägerstein

The sun rose above the shining metropolis of Aldhaven, the morning birds chirped away, and the city's daytime hustle and bustle had begun once again. In a sizable plot of unused land, a massive stone inscribed in Druidic words and phrases. They all blazed a bright green, and various kinds of flora had now taken root around the rock. The great stone pulsed with verdant energy.

Right beside the stone was a small tent, with a massive brown bear sleeping next to the tent. Suddenly, the entirety of the tent blew away, and standing there full of poise, staff in one hand, and stein of ale in the other was a Dwarf.

Several long gulps of liquid intoxication later...

"Aah, nothin' like a wee bit o' beer in 'de mornin'."

He turned around, and inspected the nature-radiating stone.

"Oh good, i's done! Soon now... soon me brew'ry'll be funtionin'. Smokey!"

Them little dwarf looked upon the great burly brown bear.

"G'it up yeh great fuzzy mass. 'De time is now! Yeh can sleep when yer drunk, now come on."

Much against its own desires, the bear reluctantly stood on its fours, leisurely yawning, walking over to the little dwarf, his friend and fellow companion. He didn't even flinch when the Dwarf climbed on top of him. It was something he did often.

The Druid, sitting on top of his bear, raised his stein and staff so both were parallel to each other. Magics of the wild beckoned to his call, as emerald tendrils twisted and turned betwixt his focuses, stimulating the air with a crisp scent of unperturbed Nature, as it was before the rise of civilizations and industry. Green roots and vines erupted around the emerald stone, wrapping around its mass and pulling it down into the earth. A small tunnel was left behind where it was forcibly pulled down from, with a slight green light emanating from the hole. Soon though, the green light shone like a beam of the sun itself, causing the entire plot of land to crack open and shine Nature's light. Verdant roots and other cellulose twisted and intertwined themselves, growing a massive tree-shaped building on the perimeters of the plot he had purchased. What once was empty land was now a building crafted of living oak. Inside were tables, chairs, counters, a bar, and a fully functional Druidic brewery. It was a pub, bar, and brewery just waiting to be filled with happy customers. Above the establishment was what would be Jägerstein's home, nestled in the branches of the mighty tree. Behind the tree-building was a garden, blooming with fresh food and fruit, as well as a menagerie of herbs, nuts, spices, and other natural resources. Between the garden and the pub location itself is a fully functional kitchen. Outside are a series of fixed tables and chairs.

Standing on top of the establishment himself, while still on top of his bear, the little Dwarf Druid stood proudly. He raised his stein to the air, and called out to the city itself.

"The Bear Necessity's open fer business!"

[TheAntiplanar]

Reynald
Reynald rises coughing from his mattress, blood staining his white linen shirt. He sits upright, staring into the early morning darkness that was his cabin. It takes several minutes for the incident to subside fully.
Not again. I'll need to send a cabin boy out to get milk of the poppy when we get to Aldhaven. Maybe go to Kallion's? She always did have the best. He cradles his forehead in his hands, thinking about the past twenty four hours. The missive had come via divination, as always. All Reynald needed was a reflective surface to receive and send private messages to the rest of the Board. In the past, he had used his full length mirror, but given his condition Reynald sometimes found it more -
Focus! Try to remember the exact words they used. Something about a kidnapping. Alderan. Yes, that was it. The Painter's Guild mole, taken by that idiot of a drow. He had only just received the message several hours ago, the faint chimes waking him from his stupor. There was no such thing as a restful night's sleep anymore. Now his colleagues wanted him to chase down Lanath Orcbane, one of the more infamous warlords in recent history. Reynald flings the duvet off of his frail body in anger. His feet find the lacquered cherry wood floor, the boards creaking slightly under the increased pressure. He walks over to the mirror, examining the gaunt reflection that he saw. Were those really his eyes, so dark and sunken?
"By the gods, I need some sunlight." Throwing on a fine pair of pants and a new shirt, the banker opens the double doors. Striding out onto the deck, he takes in the sight of the river moving past him. The early morning mists were long gone now, replaced by a low sun. It wasn't too hot yet, just the right time to watch his ship's progress and think of weighty matters.
I just don't understand. Why was Alderan taken? Was it chance? Just how much does the drow know? More to the point, why is the Board entrusting me to track them down? Surely there are people more suited to the task. I should just tell the Twins to chase them. But of course, I can't do that either: they would be slaughtered in under a minute. Lanath has a whole damned company under his command. This is a matter for the Asarenholm army... oh wait, I forgot that the local government can barely contain its own populace on a good day. He felt like screaming, letting loose his frustration at the perfectly inconvenient way things had fallen. Reynald wouldn't want to scare the crew, though. Pelor knows they had been subjected to enough, after that hurricane last month. This was why Reynald had already come to an agreement with the Board: he was to dock his ship in Aldhaven, handpicking a crew of mercenaries to hunt down Lanath Orcbane. He simply sighs. If it were that easy, the Board would not have elected him to the task.

[Debatra]

(As it was never specified, I suppose Adeak will be based in a city a few miles away from Aldhaven.)

Adeak stepped away from his fence, a few new poisons stored in a hidden pouch. He was headed for a woman whom had proven to be a very reliable source of underground information in the past, and the Elf was always willing to take a new job.

A few minutes of walking got him to her usual corner of midnight. The Halfling woman grinned at his approach.

"Having a nice night Kiley?"

---

Erinde wandered Aldhaven, studying the wanted posters, deciding she wanted to make money in a relatively legal fashion this time around. Besides which, she found prey that expected someone to be after them made for more fun in the hunt. Seeing no faces she recognized (other than a few underworld friends she was more loyal to than that), she went on looking for the highest rewards.

---

Eli was awoken one morning by a young Postulant with a bizarre summons. If this was some kind of joke, the boy would likely be beaten within an inch of his life if not outright killed.

But if it were real, one did not delay when the most senior Gray Guard Captain in Delere'ele came more than halfway across the city to talk to you, specifically. Taking the offered Prestidigitation potion to quickly straighten himself out, he all but ran downstairs to the chill of the Gray Guard "offices".

'So it's true; he really is here...' He stepped forward and bowed deeply. "Captain Nathaniel? Eli Senti, reporting as ordered."

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as the GM to Ander:

"Uncle, I only arrived last night, I haven't even said hello to everybody yet! Can't this wait?"
An older, rather heavy set man scowled at his nephew, his red face showing displeasure, and his blue eyes showing regret and sorrow. "No this cannot wait, not even the hour it would take to great your family, and young man, before you argue with me, as long as you are staying here in this house, against my better judgement I might add, you will listen to me! There is trouble brewing in this city, and if you are going to be here, I want you squared away with the society before it starts.
The rest of the walk down the long hall was taken in silence, the great black swaths of silk that hung draped from the ceiling and walls, embroidered with grotesque floral images in silver thread absorbed even the sound of their foot falls. They were both dressed lavishly in the same shade of black silk with the same silver thread at borders and seams, each man, young and old, slender, and fat, short and tall, elf and human, was absorbed in his own thoughts. As they passed the great doors at the far end of the hall, a black lacquered carriage led by white horses met them.


As the uncle dragged the young man through the halls of the Society, it was clear they were headed in a steady direction: Down. Decorations became less frequent, halls narrowed, the air grew cooler. Other members of the guild were passed, and many looked unsettled and suspicious of the pair as they progressed. Occasionally, messengers sprinted by gripping sealed letters. Other times the pair would have to move out of the way as some object or another was wheeled down a hallway. Eventually, they reached a simple looking door, and the man knocked lightly and then entered. Inside, the room was dark, and three men seated at a table. One chair was placed opposite them. "Jered," the man on the right said angrily. "Why is the boy not blindfolded? He's seen--" He was interrupted by the middle man.

"Go, Jared. Wait outside."

Jared of Brent nodded warily, turned to Ander and drew him close. "You answer their questions now, and you answer them well. They will be testing you from the beginning. To get into the guild, you'll need to prove your worth. If you don't, they'll kill you in all likelihood. Remember, they value secrecy. If you tell them you're life's story, you're not gonna pass. Now go sit in the chair." Jared walked out the door and closed it behind him.

The three waited for Ander to sit in the chair, and then the questioning began.

The middle man spoke again. "Answer these three questions, boy. What is your name? Why are you here? And what can you do?"

Replying as Jana to Greenwing:

"Jana, dear, I've told you before: I'm good, but I can't read minds. Last night, I closed the deal with Rocholl so they'll play ball your way for now. It took longer than it should have, six thugs had to die, and I just got back. I'm asleep less than an hour and you rouse me and start on about some plan of mine, an heirloom, "Zane", and an efreeti. You need to slow down. Breathe. No matter how bad things are, there is always time to stop and take stock of things. Remember the cult of Tharizdum? We would never have gotten anywhere if we hadn't done the research first. Start at the beginning. What happened?"

Greenwing loved Jana dearly, but she never has outgrown that excitable streak of hers from her youth. Normally this trait gave her the passion and energy it took to create a noble house from the ground up and grow it into a powerful dynasty. When she gets scared, though, she tends to skip over details.

It has been a long time since she's been so nervous that he hasn't been able to follow her train of thought. Whatever has her rattled, it can't be good.

Jana supposed it was time she restarted. Everything seemed to be coming out in precisely the wrong order, and every minute she wasted explaining was another moment the thief was getting away. She forced herself to a calm, and then looked Green in the eye.

“You remember the chalice that we recently recovered from that crypt? It’s been stolen. The palace was broken into last night, and a thief by the name of Edward Zane stole it along with a few other rare magical items. One of these is that bracelet we heard mentioned awhile back – the one that granted wishes? Well, turns out it’s real. One of the Noble District Guards came a short time ago to inform me of all this.” She place her hand on Green’s. “Please tell me you’ve heard of him?” Jana searched Green’s eyes, to see if he was following what she was saying. Hopefully his mind wasn’t as cloudy as his eyes.

[Exalaber]

As the uncle dragged the young man through the halls of the Society, it was clear they were headed in a steady direction: Down. Decorations became less frequent, halls narrowed, the air grew cooler. Other members of the guild were passed, and many looked unsettled and suspicious of the pair as they progressed. Occasionally, messengers sprinted by gripping sealed letters. Other times the pair would have to move out of the way as some object or another was wheeled down a hallway. Eventually, they reached a simple looking door, and the man knocked lightly and then entered. Inside, the room was dark, and three men seated at a table. One chair was placed opposite them. "Jered," the man on the right said angrily. "Why is the boy not blindfolded? He's seen--" He was interrupted by the middle man.

"Go, Jared. Wait outside."

Jared of Brent nodded warily, turned to Ander and drew him close. "You answer their questions now, and you answer them well. They will be testing you from the beginning. To get into the guild, you'll need to prove your worth. If you don't, they'll kill you in all likelihood. Remember, they value secrecy. If you tell them you're life's story, you're not gonna pass. Now go sit in the chair." Jared walked out the door and closed it behind him.

The three waited for Ander to sit in the chair, and then the questioning began.

The middle man spoke again. "Answer these three questions, boy. What is your name? Why are you here? And what can you do?"

The young sat in his simple chair, his hair swept back into a short pony tail and secured with a band of iron, he fiddled with the onyx ring on his finger as he began to frame and answer. When he failed, he gazed around the room, it had a rough board table worn with use and many tall, simple chairs, the plain masonry walls were unadorned. Then he began to hear the voices, first screams, then the clink of coins and the shiver of enormous decisions being made in complete calm, and without a second thought. Final he heard the whispers "Freind" "Help" "Answer!" "FAST!"
Ander sat straight up in his chair and the nervousness dropped from him like a sheet. "I am Ander Ean James Alexi, I am here because I was instructed to be so some beyond the hearing of men, and I can fit into the ranks of the privileged without causing a stir, hold my own in a fight, speak persuasively when I need to, and finally keep a secret." As he finished speaking the air dropped from him and he quickly stiefled an expression of shock, he had never been that subsumed into a spirit since that day, powerful people had died here.

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as Alderan to Lanath:

"Alderan. A good enough name, I guess." Lanath leans in towards the cage, not worried about violent retribution in the prisoner's current state. The drow makes sure to look the man right in the eyes. The ghost of a dark smile crosses Lanath's lips as he slips the knife from his sheath and holds out in front of 'Alderan'.
"What do I want? Well, answers to some of my questions would be wonderful. That will come later though. You're a professional, so I'm not going to make any obvious threats yet. But if you do try to escape, keep this in mind." Drawing up the fabric of his sleeve, the drow plunges the blade into his own wrist. He slices open a fair amount of skin, his deep blood spilling out and pooling on the dirt floor. Lanath's initial grimace turns into a full rictus of mixed ecstasy, his eyes never leaving those of the man's.
"I am willing to bleed to make a point. I would have no qualms about killing you. In fact, I think I would rather enjoy it." Lanath chuckles, licking his own blood off of the knife before putting it away. Another victim, another scar. Had the human been paying attention, he would have seen a multitude of similar wounds on the same wrist, albeit much older. They had all healed over time, as would this. It still stung, but the deep motes of pleasure that had come with the self-mutilation were fading. Lanath, now feeling the onset of actual pain, gets up and leaves the tent with Aumerle. Once outside and able to speak freely, he addresses his subordinate.
"We march due east. If we're lucky, we make it to the Aldaris Pass by this time two days from now. Make sure that he is guarded at all hours, and assign some more soldiers to watch the guards covertly. We don't want anyone getting any ideas, now do we?" In the minutes after dismissing Aumerle, Lanath finds himself holding on to his arm.
By Nasus, it really isn't going away. I had best find the surgeon to stitch this up, at least. I like living: bleeding out of an injury like this would not befit one such as me. Still grimacing, Lanath sets off to find one of the field surgeons. He would have to hurry. After all, the march would be beginning soon, and he could little afford to be anywhere other than in the front, leading his Legion.

Well, it wasn't real, but it worked. It's what everyone else in the Society knew him as. He had many names. As the drow leaned in close, Aldaran immediately noticed he wasn't squinting. A drow always squints. Even in this low light the sun was too much for their eyes after living underground so long. This meant...no...it couldn't be. His thoughts were interrupted when the drow brought out a dagger. He watched with open horror as he sawed open his exposed arm. Inside, he wasn't afraid - he was concerned. He had a feeling there was going to be a lot of pain involved when it came to this hostage situation. Generally, when he was involved in a hostage, he was on the other side of the fence. Had he been a man of more concrete morals, this experience might one day change his view on such actions. Not Aldaran. Still, the drow's message was plain enough - he wasn't afraid to kill him. That didn't make much sense. If Aldaran did have the information the drow sought, then why would he kill him. I'm going to have to play this without error this time, he thought warily. Still there was something that bugged him...

There was only one kind of drow he knew of that had taken to life on the surface, one that would have adjusted eyes. He only knew of them because they had ties to the Society. That would mean Mr. Zeal for Bleeding was Lanath. But why? Why him?

Lanath - if that's who he really was, he'd never seen the dark elf personally - left the tent. As the light steamed in, a new wave of nausea came up. Instead of throwing up, Aldaran blacked out.

[planswalker]

Replying as Jana to Greenwing:

Jana supposed it was time she restarted. Everything seemed to be coming out in precisely the wrong order, and every minute she wasted explaining was another moment the thief was getting away. She forced herself to a calm, and then looked Green in the eye.

“You remember the chalice that we recently recovered from that crypt? It’s been stolen. The palace was broken into last night, and a thief by the name of Edward Zane stole it along with a few other rare magical items. One of these is that bracelet we heard mentioned awhile back – the one that granted wishes? Well, turns out it’s real. One of the Noble District Guards came a short time ago to inform me of all this.” She place her hand on Green’s. “Please tell me you’ve heard of him?” Jana searched Green’s eyes, to see if he was following what she was saying. Hopefully his mind wasn’t as cloudy as his eyes.

"Zane... Zane... I think I've heard of him. Small-time thief. Too small time to bother inviting in on an operation with me, so I've never met him. The man himself shouldn't be a problem unless he gets ahold of the ring first. Then I'll have to call in favors to get the mystical muscle it will take to win that one. Unless he's a much better fence than he is a thief, it shouldn't be too hard to track down the fellow. You don't sell priceless heirlooms of the kingdom's most powerful families without leaving a trail. If that is all, I need to start investigating before the trail is cold."

With that, Greenwing will leave after making the proper goodbyes. Using one of his favorite draconic charms to turn invisible, he removes his coat. If anyone could have seen him, they would have seen bright green webbed spines be released from the confines of the coat. They sprung into place to transform his arms into wings. The flexible spines stiffened into place and he took off, a silent flyer in the early morning.

He soared over to the Mage's Quarter. In his opinion, it lacked the majesty of its glory days thirty years ago when powerful mages still lived there. It's also been almost crime-free since the current captain took over. Useful for some of his business interests, but it also makes it all but impossible for his more... productive deals to take place there. Still, there's always South Market for those deals.

Either way, it was the captain he wanted to see. The man was a trained investigator, and besides, it never hurts to aid the law in busting a rival. Whatever the captain may suspect about him, nothing was provable. The threat that bracelet represents was very real, however.

Landing just outside the window to the captain's office, LG will put his coat back on, drop the charm, and tap on the window.

"Hello? Captain of the Watch in this district? I'd like to report a crime."

[Crafty Cultist]

As the first rays of the sun began to make their way through the window of his study, Malenth was already wide awake. His desk was covered in various documents and letters, with one letter in particular occupying his attention this day.


Dear Mr D'Everet

We have recieved word that you wish to join our orginisation. We have seen proof of your ambition, and have decided to meet with you in person to determine if your level of competence is also satisfactory.

One of our members will be waiting for you at the Saphire Swan. Ask the bartender for a glass of goldendew ale and you will be lead to a back room. Once there your ability will be assessed to determine whether or not you are a suitable addition to our orginisation. Do not delay, as time is a valuable asset.

Regards

The letter was signed with an abstract symbol rather than a name. It probably served as some kind of alias to prevent documents from being traced back to the sender.

Malenth grinned as he clutched the letter. This was it. The first step in restoring the D'Everet house to it's former glory. It would be a long struggle, but he was ready for it.

After a quick breakfast and a shave, it was time to leave. Taking his cloak, cane, and hat from the stand near the door, Malenth checked himself in the mirror to make sure he looked presentable.

Garon poked his head through the doorway, his wrinkled face the epitome of polite friendliness. "Heading off now sir? Best of luck."

Malenth nodded at the old manservant. "Thank you Garon. I'll be sure to tell you how everything goes upon my return."

Gathering his things, Malenth steps out into the street and sets out to the upscale tavern mentioned in the letter.

Malenth soon arrives at the Saphire Swan, an upscale tavern on the waterfront near the entrance to the Noble district. The place was classy, without being pompous. The tables were made of polished mahogony, with leather apholstery on the chairs and benches, and fixtures of polished brass were plentiful. At this time of day, the place was nearly empty.

Malenth headed to the counter without any fuss, and a well dressed bartender greeted him from behind a row of taps. "Greetings Milord. You're in early today. What can I get you?"

"A glass of Goldendew Ale, my good man. I've had a rough night, and some hair of the dog that bit me is just what the doctor ordered."

The bartender looks at Malenth for a moment, who looks around the bar with casual interest. "I'm afraid that the last keg was purchased by a customer in one of my private rooms. If you think you can convince him to share it, I'll take you to meet him."

Malenth smiles and rises from his seat. "Lead on, my good man"

[Forever Curious]

Elif Aygul, at her room in the Slums

Elif awoke in her room with a start, the nightmare fading into her subconscious. It was no different then the one from before: she was frozen in place forced to watch her people be slaughtered by maniac assailants until they came for her. She wiped the sweat from her brow, forcing her breathing to settle to an even pace. "Just another night..." she murmured. Having calmed, the catfolk stands from her bed, stretching a bit as she goes to ready herself for the day. The sound of the Slums waking up reaches her ears, making her sigh quietly as she donned her usual street clothes including her sword, which she wore openly at her hip. Elif had found out shortly after arriving in the city that even during the day it never hurt to remain on guard.

Having dressed, Elif exited her room at the Tipsy Falcon, a tavern down the street from the underground fighting ring, almost stepping on a peculiar note that had fallen to the floor. Curious, she picked it up to examine: it was white paper, thick, and spattered with multicolor ink, almost as if several inkwells had fallen over while the letter was being written. "This is new," she muttered to herself, smiling slightly as she broke the black wax seal to read it's contents:

Elif

Secure a table downstairs at noon. I have business to discuss

"Hm... blunt. I can appreciate saving pleasantries." She folded the note, placing it in a small bag she wore on her back. It would be some time before her appointment; breakfast was in order.

[hustlertwo]

Caw approached The Boss, a bit nervous. Seemed to happen more and more lately. But the tribe was getting restless again, wanting to move on, and as the advisor he had to try to convince their increasingly erratic leader to listen to them. The area had become peaceful, almost serene, and there was no money in that for the largest clan of mercenaries Arteria had ever seen.

It remained largely hob, even though a few stragglers from the old Watch had come along for the ride and produced some extraordinarily ugly mixed-race children. All of them, every man, woman, and child, trained either in combat or a supporting role for the warriors. Boss's orders. And despite the murmurs, it had been decades since the last fellow had fallen who tried to question the Boss when he made a decree. Now obeying was as inbred for the clan as the Jenkins family line, thanks to their predilection for cousin-lovin'. Those who did not obey, or who died either in battle or out of it, still served the clan. Not in spirit, but certainly in ghastly, renanimated body.

Caw crept toward the throne, his gaze captured by the bright scarlet tunic their leader still wore to honor a time long past. The blue emblem of hands shaking, the unique crown insignia stitched above the chest. All of it seemed appropriately regal, save for the absurdly large arsenal of weaponry The Boss carried on him at all times. He always said that can't hurt to be prepared, unless you're the person facing someone who is prepared, in which case it sure as heckfire can. Caw gingerly tapped the leader on his shoulder with one long, withered finger. But The Boss just stared forward, deep in concentration. Shuffling of feet and polite coughing received the same lack of a response. Finally the advisor, forgetting himself, stomped in front of their fearless leader and began to shout.

Come on, Bennett. You know I hate the silent treatment.

The skeleton remained still atop his throne. The wiry, wild-eyed hobgoblin elder in front of him went on bended knee.

Fine, I'll keep it more professional. You're such a fuddy-duddy. I bring you news, O Exalted One. The clan is becoming restless; I feel that it may be time to find a new stomping ground, full of rich people who hate each other enough to make us rich ironing out their grudges. Any thoughts on the matter?

The skeleton does nothing. The hob begins to shout.

I SAID, ANY THOUGHTS ON THE MATTER? Honestly, I thought you had to have ears to start going deaf.

The skeleton does nothing. The hob rises from his kneeling position, wincing as he does so.

Well, I'm sure I don't know if Sheila from accounting has a crush on you. But given that you can order her to prostrate herself before you any time you wish, I think I like your chances with her. Can we get back to matters at hand?

A spider descends from The Boss's empty eye socket; his advisor removes it and sets it on the ground gently, then promptly smashes it to bits with two projectiles from a well-worn wand.

That's good to hear. The fellows are itching for some proper bloodshed. What's the place you have in mind?

The skeleton remains silent. Caw gasps.

You can't be serious, Bennie. Well, no, of course you are. You're never anything but serious. But why would we go there now, though? I thought we put that behind us.

More nothing.

Hold up now. Look, I know I'm crazy. I think it's safe to say I've come to terms with it. But if you're going crazy too, we have some serious problems. Why would we try to pull the same gag after how brilliantly we botched it last time?

The skeleton stares into space. The old hob sniffles, and wipes a tear from his eye.

No...you're right. We do owe it to him to try again. The first man to ever recognize your rights, and we let him down. But now, with all our training, our well-crafted web of contacts, our long breaks for rampant breeding...and I still don't know why you always assigned me the homeliest females for that, you backstabber; maybe now we're ready to help the Khan realize his mad, impossible, beautiful dream. Maybe now we can make him king. Would you like that, Khannonball Run?

He looks to his left at the horrifying mohrg towering over him, spikes emerging from his mottled orange skin. Caw smiles.

We knew you would. Then by your leave, Big Boss Man, I will inform the clan to prepare the wagons. Tomorrow we ride for Aldhaven!

Chief Advisor Wilstaff, better known to most merely by the shortened name of Caw, gleefully skipped toward the main encampment despite his aging bones. Home again at last!

[Monodominant]

Replying as Graeden Leventhair to Deneth



It was already starting to get busy by the time Graeden had stowed his possessions and checked out with the Watch. There was mention about some trouble in the city between a few colleagues, but that was always the case in this size of a city. The only nice thing about the Night Watch was that it wasn’t as busy as some other posts. In his tenure in this profession, he’d had his fair share of busy posts. Street patrol was one of the most dangerous, especially if you got the wrong district. Noble quarters were just high security, and with high security, came lots of pressure. Needless to say that one had a high turnover rate, even with the amount of hoops you had to jump through in order to land that job. Then there were the reports afterwards to file for each incident. Luckily, he didn’t have to be the sorry sap that had to READ all of those reports. Paperwork was more evil than most of the criminals he’d put away.

Graeden’s nostrils were flaring at the delicious smells coming from the nearest shop. Noting the sounds his stomach was making, he decided to make a stop before he went to sleep. He was always hungry after an overnight, and warm bread sounded good after the cool night. He quickened his step, rounded the corner, and nearly crashed into a Guard who was rounding the corner as well. And not only a guard, but a captain! He swore, and then swore for swearing. By that time he realize he wasn’t getting anywhere and clamped his mouth shut. To try and save the situation, he saluted briskly, and hoped for the best.



Replying as Deneth to Graeden Leventhair


Oh darn it... thought Deneth as he realised the young man had recognised him.

The kid had a sharp eye and had seen past the rough sergeant cloak and straight to his stripes. He was getting old and sloppy...

"Put your hand down! I am... er... incognito!" he snapped off with more urgency than irritation as he covered his shoulders with the thick wool cloth to hide what the man had seen already but to protect him from having anyone else see it.

"So yea, lets just walk over that shop, I guess we were both heading there and you will let me buy you one of those nice hot meat pies... The man that owns it has owned it for more than 40 years you know... hardly any poisonings at all!" said the Captain looking at the young mans eyes and considering how he should approach this. The newer generation did not really know of his habbits in pretending to still be a beat cop and should the Commander learn he was still at it, the bastard would tell his wife...

"You can speak by the way... just no sir, no captain and all that. Just Mr. Vims will do for now..." he added cautiously.

-=-


Replying to Greenwing




"Zane... Zane... I think I've heard of him. Small-time thief. Too small time to bother inviting in on an operation with me, so I've never met him. The man himself shouldn't be a problem unless he gets ahold of the ring first. Then I'll have to call in favors to get the mystical muscle it will take to win that one. Unless he's a much better fence than he is a thief, it shouldn't be too hard to track down the fellow. You don't sell priceless heirlooms of the kingdom's most powerful families without leaving a trail. If that is all, I need to start investigating before the trail is cold."

With that, Greenwing will leave after making the proper goodbyes. Using one of his favorite draconic charms to turn invisible, he removes his coat. If anyone could have seen him, they would have seen bright green webbed spines be released from the confines of the coat. They sprung into place to transform his arms into wings. The flexible spines stiffened into place and he took off, a silent flyer in the early morning.

He soared over to the Mage's Quarter. In his opinion, it lacked the majesty of its glory days thirty years ago when powerful mages still lived there. It's also been almost crime-free since the current captain took over. Useful for some of his business interests, but it also makes it all but impossible for his more... productive deals to take place there. Still, there's always South Market for those deals.

Either way, it was the captain he wanted to see. The man was a trained investigator, and besides, it never hurts to aid the law in busting a rival. Whatever the captain may suspect about him, nothing was provable. The threat that bracelet represents was very real, however.

Landing just outside the window to the captain's office, LG will put his coat back on, drop the charm, and tap on the window.

"Hello? Captain of the Watch in this district? I'd like to report a crime."


It actually takes a good few minutes until the window is opened by a sleepy eyes corporal that Greenwing has seen before taking notes and generally tailing the Captain.

He looks at the green, scaly halfling at the window but knows better than to be scared. Suprised, stunned and amazed yes... not scared though.

"Errr.... ahem... first of all Sir, I would like to point out that there IS a door to this place! Its... highly irregular to... well... to come from the roof! Plus the Captain is of a certain age as you very well know... such stunts could... well.. could compromise his health! But in any case... well... the... the Captain is not here right now. I see his coat is here so if I was a betting man I would say he is prowling somewhere around here pretending to be a regular. He thinks I dont hear him sneak out every other morning but I do... but dont tell him that or he will give me a right thrashing which will... well... it will mean I cant keep an eye on him like his wife asked me to..."

[planswalker]

It actually takes a good few minutes until the window is opened by a sleepy eyes corporal that Greenwing has seen before taking notes and generally tailing the Captain.

He looks at the green, scaly halfling at the window but knows better than to be scared. Suprised, stunned and amazed yes... not scared though.

"Errr.... ahem... first of all Sir, I would like to point out that there IS a door to this place! Its... highly irregular to... well... to come from the roof! Plus the Captain is of a certain age as you very well know... such stunts could... well.. could compromise his health! But in any case... well... the... the Captain is not here right now. I see his coat is here so if I was a betting man I would say he is prowling somewhere around here pretending to be a regular. He thinks I dont hear him sneak out every other morning but I do... but dont tell him that or he will give me a right thrashing which will... well... it will mean I cant keep an eye on him like his wife asked me to..."

"I come on behalf of the Council of Ten to work under letter of marque to retrieve important items stolen from the Houses. When presented with this task, my first thought was to involve the city watch in this, and Captain was the one I trusted to aid me. I am surprised you did not immediately recognize me as chief adviser to House Astrine. I would have thought my appearance distinctive enough to warrant instant recognition. Mind if I come in or would you rather continue talking out the window?"

[3SecondCultist]

Lanath
The march had begun. Left, right, left, right. When they had arrived on the surface nearly a decade ago, Lanath had forbade the use of horses except as beasts of burden. They were surface animals, he reasoned, and did not deserve the honor of carrying his kin across the lands above. Moreover, the forced marches had strengthened his men, given them stamina. He had dozens of victories to show for it - and only one defeat. Lanath swears to himself under his breath, trying not to think about that day. And yet, it was impossible to put it out of his head entirely. The drow grits his teeth, keeping his attention eastward. Out there, beyond the foothills, were the Tikaritian Mountains. Lanath could barely make them out, a blue-grey veil that spanned his field of view. He glances around at his position. Behind him stretches the Legion, a column five abreast, his troops swathed in simple grey cloaks and light armor. The majority of the tents and supplies were being carted on four separate wagons, as was the cage that held the prisoner. Lanath can see the scowls on the faces of the carters - every morning, his troops would draw straws or play dice for the honor of marching along with their warlord. The losers had to steer the wagons and take care of the horses, like lowly stable-boys. He grins to himself. They seemed to be making good progress this morning: their campsite from the night before was long gone, and Lanath could no longer even see Aldhaven. Beside him, Aumerle notices his deceleration.
"Are we stopping, sir?"
"No. I was just... looking around. We still have some distance to travel today." He holds out his arm, examining the stitches in the waning sunlight. They had healed well. The pain was still present, but it was already beginning to fade away. Soon, only a scar would remain.
"It looks good. Dran did a solid job on this, sir."
"I am aware, thank you. We should get moving: it looks like rain." Striding ahead, Lanath motions for Aumerle to follow. They would march into the mountains - there, among the rocks and the ice, Lanath would set up camp and wait. The Society was bound to send someone eventually, and his Legion was fairly easy to track on the ground.
Especially considering the little breadcrumbs I've been leaving near our trail. Every hour, he would toss something innocuous on the ground - a strap of leather, a piece of rotten meat, something that would not be missed. Any tracker worth their weight in copper should be able to follow the road Lanath was paving.
At least, until they get into the mountains. Then we'll be waiting.

[The Bandicoot]

Iothfrahar

Iothfrahar walked silently through the city, his hood up and hoping to find a place he could stay for the day. His jackal, Gix, who was walking at his side yawned. Iothfrahar really disliked going through big cities but this one was too large to walk around and besides, he needed to find another dragon to hunt and the rumor mill of a big city was usually the place to find one.

So it was on this quiet morning stroll that he found himself in front of a plot empty save for a dwarf and a bear. Then there was a loud rumbling, a large pulse of Druidic magic(something that caught his attention more than the rumbling) and he was standing in front of a large tree with chairs and tables. "The Bear Necessities is open for business!" the dwarf shouts. The Bear Necessities has it's first customer! Iothfrahar shouts in Druidic, pulling back his cloak. His platinum-scaled, vaguely half-orcish features reflect the morning light and he mutters in orcish Flea-bitten elf lover.

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as Amazed Crowd/Random NPC’s (GM) to Jagerstein:
The sun rose above the shining metropolis of Aldhaven, the morning birds chirped away, and the city's daytime hustle and bustle had begun once again. In a sizable plot of unused land, a massive stone inscribed in Druidic words and phrases. They all blazed a bright green, and various kinds of flora had now taken root around the rock. The great stone pulsed with verdant energy.

Right beside the stone was a small tent, with a massive brown bear sleeping next to the tent. Suddenly, the entirety of the tent blew away, and standing there full of poise, staff in one hand, and stein of ale in the other was a Dwarf.

Several long gulps of liquid intoxication later...

"Aah, nothin' like a wee bit o' beer in 'de mornin'."

He turned around, and inspected the nature-radiating stone.

"Oh good, i's done! Soon now... soon me brew'ry'll be funtionin'. Smokey!"

Them little dwarf looked upon the great burly brown bear.

"G'it up yeh great fuzzy mass. 'De time is now! Yeh can sleep when yer drunk, now come on."

Much against its own desires, the bear reluctantly stood on its fours, leisurely yawning, walking over to the little dwarf, his friend and fellow companion. He didn't even flinch when the Dwarf climbed on top of him. It was something he did often.

The Druid, sitting on top of his bear, raised his stein and staff so both were parallel to each other. Magics of the wild beckoned to his call, as emerald tendrils twisted and turned betwixt his focuses, stimulating the air with a crisp scent of unperturbed Nature, as it was before the rise of civilizations and industry. Green roots and vines erupted around the emerald stone, wrapping around its mass and pulling it down into the earth. A small tunnel was left behind where it was forcibly pulled down from, with a slight green light emanating from the hole. Soon though, the green light shone like a beam of the sun itself, causing the entire plot of land to crack open and shine Nature's light. Verdant roots and other cellulose twisted and intertwined themselves, growing a massive tree-shaped building on the perimeters of the plot he had purchased. What once was empty land was now a building crafted of living oak. Inside were tables, chairs, counters, a bar, and a fully functional Druidic brewery. It was a pub, bar, and brewery just waiting to be filled with happy customers. Above the establishment was what would be Jägerstein's home, nestled in the branches of the mighty tree. Behind the tree-building was a garden, blooming with fresh food and fruit, as well as a menagerie of herbs, nuts, spices, and other natural resources. Between the garden and the pub location itself is a fully functional kitchen. Outside are a series of fixed tables and chairs.

Standing on top of the establishment himself, while still on top of his bear, the little Dwarf Druid stood proudly. He raised his stein to the air, and called out to the city itself.

"The Bear Necessity's open fer business!"
The Midtown District contained much more in the way of shopping than living quarters, and so morning was always an arduous time. Shop owners and customers alike traveled from better parts in the city to come to this shopping district each morning, and so the wider streets became a jumble of people attempting to go this way and that. Since midtown got its name from being in the center of everything, it should be no surprise that traders, supply wagons and shipments made even the larger streets narrow at times as they transported things to other areas of the city. Recently makeshift stands had begun to appear on main streets and open area, adding to crowding as well. So unsurprisingly when people saw a vacant lot, they saw a way around the crowds…at least for the time being. People eyed the tent as odd, and the large bear as stranger. They gave each a wide berth. They obviously didn’t know odd just yet.

Fortunately the occupant of the tent soon cleared up that misfortune up for the onlookers as he formed a tavern out of seemingly thin air. People stopped moving all together to watch, thus causing shouting and cursing behind them until they spied what those obstructing were staring at. Those that were closer to the lot drew away, some more hurriedly than others depending on proximity.

When it was all over, there was a wide range of reaction. Some people didn’t know how to process a dwarf riding a bear riding a tree tavern thing. They either were scared, angry, or indifferent. Most of them tried to get moving. Some were amazed, intrigued or downright excited, and were moving closer to the structure and touching its sides or peering in through a window. One man went in and the rest peered in to see what would happen.

Jack looked around, smiled, and rapped his staff on the ceiling of the place.
“Very impressive, but now that you’re open you should probably be down here serving me! And you better not be one of them veggie only places! I needs me some meat! And I still have the bad part of a good night hanging on my mind. Wouldn’t mind something to wash all that down my throat, if you catch my drift.” He paused a moment, and then rapped smartly once more on the ceiling, just for fun. Jack settled down on one of the seats closest to counter, and drummed his fingers on the wood. “You know, you get a better look if you actually come in, folks,” he called out to those still staring in from the windows.


Replying as Kiley to Adeak:


Adeak stepped away from his fence, a few new poisons stored in a hidden pouch. He was headed for a woman whom had proven to be a very reliable source of underground information in the past, and the Elf was always willing to take a new job.

A few minutes of walking got him to her usual corner of midnight. The Halfling woman grinned at his approach.

"Having a nice night Kiley?"

Kiley, as always, was pleased to see Adeak. Adeak always came for information, and always paid for the advice and information he asked for, and it was hard times for her. Hopefully she knew the information he was looking for or the person that would know. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday.

Kiley greeted Adeak with the same line she’d always used. “Hey there, Handsome.” She smiled. “Night’s getting nicer now that you’re here.” She eyed him up and down. “So, where you want to go? We could be dangerous and do it outside, or we could go somewhere and get to business? Either way, you lead.”


Replying as the GM to Erinde:
[QUOTE=Erinde]Erinde wandered Aldhaven, studying the wanted posters, deciding she wanted to make money in a relatively legal fashion this time around. Besides which, she found prey that expected someone to be after them made for more fun in the hunt. Seeing no faces she recognized (other than a few underworld friends she was more loyal to than that), she went on looking for the highest rewards.

There were many posters along the wall, all with varying descriptions:
Semaul, Kobold, wanted for posing as a representative to the Licourta House. Wanted alive. Reward provided Licourta family. (No actual amount was given, but heads of houses are known to pay well.)
Jeriah Cariess, Human, Wanted Dead or Alive, Smuggling illegal immigrants into the city. Reward: 15,000 Gold (City Guard)
Riley Sunkist, Werebear, Wanted Dead, Destruction of Property, Murder, and Resisting Arrest. Reward: 20,055 Gold (City Guard)
Seeking Client to recover Items from a Theft, Reward per item: 6,000 Gold. Bonus if all recovered. (Gives an address to a building somewhere in the Noble District.)


Replying as "The Three" to Ander:

The young sat in his simple chair, his hair swept back into a short pony tail and secured with a band of iron, he fiddled with the onyx ring on his finger as he began to frame and answer. When he failed, he gazed around the room, it had a rough board table worn with use and many tall, simple chairs, the plain masonry walls were unadorned. Then he began to hear the voices, first screams, then the clink of coins and the shiver of enormous decisions being made in complete calm, and without a second thought. Final he heard the whispers "Freind" "Help" "Answer!" "FAST!"
Ander sat straight up in his chair and the nervousness dropped from him like a sheet. "I am Ander Ean James Alexi, I am here because I was instructed to be so some beyond the hearing of men, and I can fit into the ranks of the privileged without causing a stir, hold my own in a fight, speak persuasively when I need to, and finally keep a secret." As he finished speaking the air dropped from him and he quickly stiefled an expression of shock, he had never been that subsumed into a spirit since that day, powerful people had died here.

The three listen quietly to the young man as he listed off his answers, faces hidden within the shadows of their hoods. The left figure watched as Ander fiddled and fidgeted. He almost looked like he was mouthing to himself. Then suddenly, he changed. He stopped playing with his ring, he brought on a new composure, and then spoke clearly and calmly. This showed promise, Left thought.

“What do you mean ‘beyond the hearing of men’, Ander?” spoke the center figure.

It might be nice to have another someone in the midst of the nobles, but his uncle already did that, plus countless others that were servants, administrators, even one house leader belonged to the society. Still…the boy was lucky that Dalante wasn’t here – he would want him to have lied from the start about who he was. Almeran. It was amazing how many parts of things that man actually touched. He needed to be recovered. And soon. But on the subject at hand, even if they did accept Ander to the Society, he obviously needed training. They already knew plenty on him and his capabilities. He’d not be here had there been a doubt about these things. The trouble is, at the moment, he didn’t have anyone who could train him. Hmmmmm.

Replying as GM to Elif:

Elif awoke in her room with a start, the nightmare fading into her subconscious. It was no different then the one from before: she was frozen in place forced to watch her people be slaughtered by maniac assailants until they came for her. She wiped the sweat from her brow, forcing her breathing to settle to an even pace. "Just another night..." she murmured. Having calmed, the catfolk stands from her bed, stretching a bit as she goes to ready herself for the day. The sound of the Slums waking up reaches her ears, making her sigh quietly as she donned her usual street clothes including her sword, which she wore openly at her hip. Elif had found out shortly after arriving in the city that even during the day it never hurt to remain on guard.

Having dressed, Elif exited her room at the Tipsy Falcon, a tavern down the street from the underground fighting ring, almost stepping on a peculiar note that had fallen to the floor. Curious, she picked it up to examine: it was white paper, thick, and spattered with multicolor ink, almost as if several inkwells had fallen over while the letter was being written. "This is new," she muttered to herself, smiling slightly as she broke the black wax seal to read it's contents:

Elif

Secure a table downstairs at noon. I have business to discuss

"Hm... blunt. I can appreciate saving pleasantries." She folded the note, placing it in a small bag she wore on her back. It would be some time before her appointment; breakfast was in order.

The inn was all but deserted downstairs aside from the staff, which was cleaning up from the previous night's ruckus. From the appearance of the place, ruckus was a weak word for what had went on. Tankards were strewn here and there, and two tables were upended. One maid was placing straw atop some older straw that had obviously been bloodied. Two men were carrying a third out into the street. He was limp as a willow, snoring slightly. Still, the kitchen seemed to be cooking something, and the wonderful smells filled the room. The counter was currently the only place clear that could be sat at, and one server was eating her breakfast there. She looked up as Elif made her way down the steps, and greeted her.

Replying as (Guard in his 30’s)Graeden to Deneth:
[quote=Deneth]
Oh darn it... thought Deneth as he realised the young man had recognised him.

The kid had a sharp eye and had seen past the rough sergeant cloak and straight to his stripes. He was getting old and sloppy...

"Put your hand down! I am... er... incognito!" he snapped off with more urgency than irritation as he covered his shoulders with the thick wool cloth to hide what the man had seen already but to protect him from having anyone else see it.

"So yea, lets just walk over that shop, I guess we were both heading there and you will let me buy you one of those nice hot meat pies... The man that owns it has owned it for more than 40 years you know... hardly any poisonings at all!" said the Captain looking at the young mans eyes and considering how he should approach this. The newer generation did not really know of his habbits in pretending to still be a beat cop and should the Commander learn he was still at it, the bastard would tell his wife...

"You can speak by the way... just no sir, no captain and all that. Just Mr. Vims will do for now..." he added cautiously.


Incognito, huh? Ooops. He briefly feigned scratching his head instead of saluting. Luckily the street wasn’t well traveled this close to the wall. “Sure,” he said in response to the conspiring captain. “Dodging paperwork?” he asked with a smirk. He knew that’s what he would do, if he were a captain. As the two walked into the shop, he noticed there were a few tables, and a small kitchen. The man behind the counter spoke out.

“Den!” he said excitedly. “Welcome back! Haven’t seen you in ages. How many you want today? Looks like a two day, eh? And how about your friend…?”

“Oh, ah, Graeden,” he said, distracted by the name. Den…for a moment, he thought the shop owner was addressing him. Some of his friends back when he was in his twenties had called him Den. Den as in Deneth? It's the only Captain he knew of that fit that name. He’d heard mention of him, but never met him. He’d heard many things. Seems Graeden had run himself into a walking legend of the Guard. Good thing the smell of food was waking him up a bit. Perhaps the day was not yet over.

(Edited)

[Forever Curious]

Elif Aygul, responding to GM

Replying as GM to Elif:

The inn was all but deserted downstairs aside from the staff, which was cleaning up from the previous night's ruckus. From the appearance of the place, ruckus was a weak word for what had went on. Tankards were strewn here and there, and two tables were upended. One maid was placing straw atop some older straw that had obviously been bloodied. Two men were carrying a third out into the street. He was limp as a willow, snoring slightly. Still, the kitchen seemed to be cooking something, and the wonderful smells filled the room. The counter was currently the only place clear that could be sat at, and one server was eating her breakfast there. She looked up as Elif made her way down the steps, and greeted her.


Well, this had certainly explained the commotion that had interfered with her sleep last night. She gave a small nod the the server... Ruth, was it? The Tipsy Falcon had quite a turn over rate, and all these servers looked the same to Elif. "Good morning," she replied flatly, taking a seat next to the server. "Another brawl," she remarked, the smells coming from the kitchen peaking her appetite. It was something she didn't recognize, but it smelled wonderful. "A new dish?" she asked directly to the server, turning her head to look at her.

[Exalaber]

Replying as Ander to "The Three":


The three listen quietly to the young man as he listed off his answers, faces hidden within the shadows of their hoods. The left figure watched as Ander fiddled and fidgeted. He almost looked like he was mouthing to himself. Then suddenly, he changed. He stopped playing with his ring, he brought on a new composure, and then spoke clearly and calmly. This showed promise, Left thought.

“What do you mean ‘beyond the hearing of men’, Ander?” spoke the center figure.

It might be nice to have another someone in the midst of the nobles, but his uncle already did that, plus countless others that were servants, administrators, even one house leader belonged to the society. Still…the boy was lucky that Dalante wasn’t here – he would want him to have lied from the start about who he was. Almeran. It was amazing how many parts of things that man actually touched. He needed to be recovered. And soon. But on the subject at hand, even if they did accept Ander to the Society, he obviously needed training. They already knew plenty on him and his capabilities. He’d not be here had there been a doubt about these things. The trouble is, at the moment, he didn’t have anyone who could train him. Hmmmmm.

Ander reaches back to the spirit, pulling the unearthly calm back in, but keeping the alien will out, and faces the three, stairing into the shadows of the hood, the outline of the man's face clear to his elven eyes. He locks eyes with the man and says "I know there are not many elves running around this city, but surly you know that it is not just our subterrainian cousins that can see well in the dark. As to your question, I had hoped to avoid mentioning that, all I can say is that some more ethereal friends of mine say that a great place of walls, locks, and shadows is on the edge between destruction and prosperity, and they want me to witness the determination, I am here specifically because it was a condition of staying in my uncle's house." He continues to stare at the face that is only just to shadowed to read, and after a moment of calculating silence continues "you may want to get an oracle down here or a cleric or something, a... previous occupant wants to speak with you very badly." He suddenly wishes that he had taken his uncle's advice, and left the city.

[TheAntiplanar]

Reynald
After cooling down somewhat, Reynald returned to his cabin to throw on a navy overcoat and fetch his cane. He would need to look presentable to the Board. After all, appearance mattered in high Society... he chuckles softly. According to Captain Whitefeather, Aldhaven was fast approaching. He need only look out the window to see his home city, but Reynald finds himself hesitant. So many memories here... bad mixed in with the good. However, there was still the matter of the curse. At first, he had had absolutely no idea who had tasked the mage to cast the spell on him, but after finding out Almeran, he found the answer staring starkly back at him.
The Painters Guild. Of course, I still have no idea who they really are, only that they seem to oppose us at every turn. The name had come later, the last words of a dying man during a midnight raid. From all of the intelligence Reynald had gathered, the guild seemed to be comprised mostly of lower class thieves and assassins. Four Society agents had been murdered over the course of the last year, which led to yet another question.
Why did they curse me? Why am I still breathing? The mage could have killed me that night. For some reason, they want me alive. Reynald takes a deep breath. The Painters would be brought to heel, justice done against their ringleaders. But first, he needed to retrieve the double agent. He makes his way back above-deck, watching as the crew of the Herald made preparations to dock. The city was there now, looming. Every crack, stone and plank was exactly as he remembered it. Somehow, everything was different though. There was an aura of tension here. Even from several miles away, Reynald could sense it. Things were changing, and not necessarily for the better. His reverie is cut off at the approach of two sets of footsteps. The Twins, of course. Kirin and Arlin Corvayne, his two enforcers. They dressed the same, crimson coats over matching black pants and shirts, complete with golden belt and boot buckles. However, up close one could easily spot the differences. Kirin had a more muscular build, wearing her golden hair longer. Underneath her coat one could see twin hilts, the golden wire protruding somewhat. Arlin, on the other hand, was even skinnier than his sister. He bore no overt weapons, instead carrying several pouches with what looked like spell components, as well as a small book. Their violet eyes stare back at Reynald, awaiting his orders. The Twins knew him well.
"We have nearly arrived. Now, once we have docked I want you to split up and begin searching for a crew. Strength, loyalty, and avarice are the primary attributes you should be looking for. Start in the taverns and the arena."
"Where will we meet you?"
"I'm not sure yet. I have to check back in with the other Society members before I can leave. Here, take these. It will help us keep in touch." From one of his pockets, Reynald pulls a pair of dark gold earring studs. He hands one to each twin.
"I acquired these toys fresh off the Brunsgrove market at a wonderful price. These will allow the three of us to communicate telepathically for up to fifty miles. Only wear them when you absolutely need to talk: the enchantments on these will only allow a certain amount of chatter every day." Reynald nods, seemingly to himself. Yes, this would work. Hopefully, the Twins would be quick about their task. Looking up, he can see the Aldhaven docks quite clearly. This early in the morning, the pier was not too busy, but the banker could make out figures going about their business as usual... hold on. There was one figure standing at the edge of a dock, staring at the Herald of Dross as it approached. Apparently, the Society had sent someone to greet them.

[TechnOkami]

Jägerstein looks down in surprise. He was expecting customers, but to be honest, not nearly that quickly.

"Great, I'll be down in minute!" Rummaging of a drunk dwarf and a drunk bear can be heard as the two make their way downstairs.

Before he makes it all the way outside once again, he's stopped by a fellow named Jack. And after listening to his tale...

"A've got just de thing! 'ere! An ale on 'de house, spec'al openin' day!"

If he does drink it, its possibly one of the best brews he's come to taste.

Eventually, the main door opens up, as the great fuzzy mass that is smokey rolls out, with the Dwarf riding on top. Once the rolling stops, Jägerstein takes a look at his customesr.

"Oyi! Don' jus' stan' 'der! Come, sit where ye like. In, out, wherev'r! Oh-"

Jägerstein dusts himself off slightly before asking his next question.

"-wha' do ye wan' to drink?"

"An' it ain't de "Bear Necessities", it's de "Bear Necessity". Yer title implies there's more than one, when dere's only one true need in life, n' that's good drink a' hand."

[Calicade]

Maticus stalked along the directions that were given to him. Regularly looking at the parchment provided to him. There was little detail other than a simple explanation to meet where the mage, temple, and midtown districts all met. The roads were clearly placed before him, but there were too many options to be sure about the direction that the note dictated.

“To think, I explicitly said that I had never laid a foot in this city” Maticus grumbled as he scratched at his completely shaved head. He looked at the instructions one more time and crumpled the paper up and tucked it loosely into a tightly kept pouch on his waist.

After pushing the note into the pouch he completely took in his surroundings, and continue walking just before coming upon a small crossroads of three paths. He sat at a bench, still grumbling under his breath words that had no actual form other than to appease his need to argue. This was the first time he had used an informant that he himself did not know personally. The only reason he didn’t use one of his own informants was just the same reason why he felt lost. But to his knowledge, the informant that he was to me was well connected and always kept up on even the most recent news. This was just barely enough for Maticus to accept the terms and seek out the meeting place.

“Better show, or heads will roll..” Maticus growled to himself as he slouched forward on the bench keeping his head up keeping an eye out for any other comfort seekers.

[The Bandicoot]

Iothfrahar

Iothfrahar snaps out of his wide-eyed staring Just.....enjoying it. Not many places that are this close to nature. he walks inside slowly and lays his longbow and quiver on a table. He then takes his scythe and holds it, leaning on it slightly. He looks around and scratches Gix's head. He'll have something strong, and I'll have something stronger. he cracks his neck and looks around again, a slight smirk forming. He was impressed, which was something odd for him.

[Debatra]

Replying as Adeak to Kiley


Kiley, as always, was pleased to see Adeak. Adeak always came for information, and always paid for the advice and information he asked for, and it was hard times for her. Hopefully she knew the information he was looking for or the person that would know. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday.

Kiley greeted Adeak with the same line she’d always used. “Hey there, Handsome.” She smiled. “Night’s getting nicer now that you’re here.” She eyed him up and down. “So, where you want to go? We could be dangerous and do it outside, or we could go somewhere and get to business? Either way, you lead.”

"Heh, I'm out for a new job, and some quick coin. I'm up for about anything you can lead me to."

Replying to DM as Erinde

There were many posters along the wall, all with varying descriptions:
Semaul, Kobold, wanted for posing as a representative to the Licourta House. Wanted alive. Reward provided Licourta family. (No actual amount was given, but heads of houses are known to pay well.)
Jeriah Cariess, Human, Wanted Dead or Alive, Smuggling illegal immigrants into the city. Reward: 15,000 Gold (City Guard)
Riley Sunkist, Werebear, Wanted Dead, Destruction of Property, Murder, and Resisting Arrest. Reward: 20,055 Gold (City Guard)
Seeking Client to recover Items from a Theft, Reward per item: 6,000 Gold. Bonus if all recovered. (Gives an address to a building somewhere in the Noble District.)


Erinde jotted down the item recovery and Licourta jobs before heading to the Noble District. She didn't have many clients among the "high-society", and had to ask directions, but she found her way to the listed address for the item recovery.

[TechnOkami]

After waiting several tables (with the help of his bear, don't ask how) the Dwarf finally returned with a stein of beer, and a bowl for Iothfrahar's pet.

"'Ere ya go. On de house! I figur'd I'd get the word out of me brews! Ah definit'ly need tah hire more people though... coming!" And the Dwarf runs off to another place needing his services.

[The Bandicoot]

Gix sniffs the bowl, gives it a tentative lick, looks up at Iothfrahar, and then sets about to lick up as much as he can as quick as he can. Meanwhile Iothfrahar just leans against his scythe and drinks slowly. Best dwarf brew I've ever had. I'll be sure to reccomend you. he pauses, pondering But don't expect much extra business from it. Most people I work with aren't long for this world.......no matter how much I try and prevent it.

[SamBurke]

Zhin of the Heaven Clan
Zane Arc

Zhin stood up from his hiding spot in one smooth motion; sleep to fighting stance took but a moment of reflexive darting. An alley cat looked up at the strange figure, and shied away, trying to escape what appeared to be some monstrosity.

At the other end of the alleyway, a drunk looked at the spiky figure with growing surprise. "Yr musta gotten reaalllly drunk..." he mutters, "or it's ma ihs' decieving me..." The slurred speech is barely understandable to Zhin, not withstanding the language difficulties he'd had to deal with already.

Just walking through the gate was an ordeal: no warrior should have to endure the evil eyes of so many foolish peasants at once. A hundred people it must have been, turning to look at him. Just because he had three-inch spikes and horns lying against his body, and he was covered in thick, bone-leather skin didn't make him something to stare at. So, he tried cursing at them. No matter what he said, they just couldn't seem to get it, until, at last, he had to start waving his arms in a most... embarrassing manner. Or, so he thought.

The guard watching the gates had gotten a spell for him, something to understand languages, it would seem. The short interview had been inconsequential, though the customs of this age were no doubt barbarous.... extending hands, and surrendering tactical advantage? "Saluting" and offering such small forms of obeisance to superiors? Clearly, in his long sleep, there had been much regression. Never mind that, though, as Zhin nearly made several clear blunders, as the man apparently did not like being forced to bow instead of salute.

Still, Zhin had no time to think: whatever could help him understand the vulgar language of these people was clearly going to run out, and he had one priority alone: the finding of evil, and its rooting out.

Leaving the drunk, the warrior strode into the sunlight of the wide street, ignoring the stares and fear of the citizens with impunity. "Is there someone who can give me information for magical services!?!?" he bellows to all nearby, without regard.


Trying to walk the fine line of being a flank hole and being a proud warrior race guy.

[Monodominant]

Responding to Greenwing as The Corporal (aid to Deneth)


"I come on behalf of the Council of Ten to work under letter of marque to retrieve important items stolen from the Houses. When presented with this task, my first thought was to involve the city watch in this, and Captain was the one I trusted to aid me. I am surprised you did not immediately recognize me as chief adviser to House Astrine. I would have thought my appearance distinctive enough to warrant instant recognition. Mind if I come in or would you rather continue talking out the window?"

"Errr... yes sir! My apologies sir! Please do come in sir! Though if I may say so sir... you kind of know the captain, probably better than me! I know he likes to frequent a place just around the corner, two blocks down and next to the city walls... best meat pies in the all the Quarter. You are more than welcome to wait here but he might be some time!" responds the corporal trying to juggle policy with the fact that he is talking with a senior representative of one of the houses.



Given that I might be out for a few more posts, might make it easier if you meet me there instead!




Responding as Deneth to the Guard Graeden




Replying as (Guard in his 30’s)Graeden to Deneth:

Incognito, huh? Ooops. He briefly feigned scratching his head instead of saluting. Luckily the street wasn’t well traveled this close to the wall. “Sure,” he said in response to the conspiring captain. “Dodging paperwork?” he asked with a smirk. He knew that’s what he would do, if he were a captain. As the two walked into the shop, he noticed there were a few tables, and a small kitchen. The man behind the counter spoke out.

“Den!” he said excitedly. “Welcome back! Haven’t seen you in ages. How many you want today? Looks like a two day, eh? And how about your friend…?”

“Oh, ah, Graeden,” he said, distracted by the name. Den…for a moment, he thought the shop owner was addressing him. Some of his friends back when he was in his twenties had called him Den. Den as in Deneth? It's the only Captain he knew of that fit that name. He’d heard mention of him, but never met him. He’d heard many things. Seems Graeden had run himself into a walking legend of the Guard. Good thing the smell of food was waking him up a bit. Perhaps the day was not yet over.



"Give us two for him as well... breakfast is the only meal in a day a man needs. Hunger in the evening keeps you sharp!" replied the old captain before sitting at a corner table with a good view of the street.

"So Graeden eh? And what brings you out so early then? Heading for or returning from duty?" asks the Captain, though he was certain of the latter given the middle aged mans tired eyes and dark circles over the eyes. An all nighter... most likely on the wall... ah the Wall... he had not done a beat on the wall for ages... maybe he could pretend to go on an inspection tomorrow night... that would be grand!

"And between you and me... there aint no avoiding paperwork... it always gets you in the end!"

[planswalker]

"Errr... yes sir! My apologies sir! Please do come in sir! Though if I may say so sir... you kind of know the captain, probably better than me! I know he likes to frequent a place just around the corner, two blocks down and next to the city walls... best meat pies in the all the Quarter. You are more than welcome to wait here but he might be some time!" responds the corporal trying to juggle policy with the fact that he is talking with a senior representative of one of the houses.



Given that I might be out for a few more posts, might make it easier if you meet me there instead!





"Give us two for him as well... breakfast is the only meal in a day a man needs. Hunger in the evening keeps you sharp!" replied the old captain before sitting at a corner table with a good view of the street.

"So Graeden eh? And what brings you out so early then? Heading for or returning from duty?" asks the Captain, though he was certain of the latter given the middle aged mans tired eyes and dark circles over the eyes. An all nighter... most likely on the wall... ah the Wall... he had not done a beat on the wall for ages... maybe he could pretend to go on an inspection tomorrow night... that would be grand!

"And between you and me... there aint no avoiding paperwork... it always gets you in the end!"

"Thank you, guardsman. You have been most helpful."

With that, Greenwing Drake begins to take off his coat as he casts the invisibility charm once more, giving the corporal just a peek of green wings as he disappears from sight. The theatrics are half of how he retains his reputation. Never hurts to re-seed the rumors of his untold powers in a reliable source.

As he follows the helpful corporal's directions, he ponders how best to convince the captain to help him. Just as he touches down behind the old badger, he overhears the crack about paperwork.

"I can help you put that off for a while longer if you'd like." He says while reappearing. "Have an off-the-books job from the Council of Ten that needs doing. You were the first one I thought of when looking for help."

[Monodominant]

Responding to Greenwing as Deneth Vims, Captain of the Mage Quarter


"Thank you, guardsman. You have been most helpful."

With that, Greenwing Drake begins to take off his coat as he casts the invisibility charm once more, giving the corporal just a peek of green wings as he disappears from sight. The theatrics are half of how he retains his reputation. Never hurts to re-seed the rumors of his untold powers in a reliable source.

As he follows the helpful corporal's directions, he ponders how best to convince the captain to help him. Just as he touches down behind the old badger, he overhears the crack about paperwork.

"I can help you put that off for a while longer if you'd like." He says while reappearing. "Have an off-the-books job from the Council of Ten that needs doing. You were the first one I thought of when looking for help."

The old captain masks his suprise. He had heard something but given the ambient noise in the pie shop he had not actually realised the man was behind him.

Still years of being suprised, ambushed and generally in much worse situations gave him an iron pokerface.

"Oh. Hello there Mr Drake. Heh... I guess this one is one of those 'teachable moments' that the Lieutenants asks me to illustrate to my people." he says looking towards the guardsman before him.

"This my dear boy is Mr Greenwing Drake of House Astrine. He is a sneaky devil in disguise but he is generally on the side of the good guys and order... or nobility in any case which in our fair city usually counts for the same even if it isnt always..." he says before turning to face the greenscaled halfling.

"Looking good there... I always said Green suits you. So... would you care to tell me more on this? We can take a stroll and eat our pies while we are at it... and before you go on about secrecy, you surely know that a semi-crowded street is a better place than a clandestine meeting in my office that is probably constantly under divination by half the Houses in this city..." he says with a sly smile.

[planswalker]

The old captain masks his suprise. He had heard something but given the ambient noise in the pie shop he had not actually realised the man was behind him.

Still years of being suprised, ambushed and generally in much worse situations gave him an iron pokerface.

"Oh. Hello there Mr Drake. Heh... I guess this one is one of those 'teachable moments' that the Lieutenants asks me to illustrate to my people." he says looking towards the guardsman before him.

"This my dear boy is Mr Greenwing Drake of House Astrine. He is a sneaky devil in disguise but he is generally on the side of the good guys and order... or nobility in any case which in our fair city usually counts for the same even if it isnt always..." he says before turning to face the greenscaled halfling.

"Looking good there... I always said Green suits you. So... would you care to tell me more on this? We can take a stroll and eat our pies while we are at it... and before you go on about secrecy, you surely know that a semi-crowded street is a better place than a clandestine meeting in my office that is probably constantly under divination by half the Houses in this city..." he says with a sly smile.

"Oh yes, I agree with your tactics on keeping a secret so long as you are not being actively followed. However, secrecy isn't the issue at all in this case. The invisibility is just my personal taste for theatrics. You know how I love to shock and awe the rubes. We can talk while you walk."

As they take a stroll and the Captain enjoys his pies, Greenwing Drake catches him up to speed.

"Apparently last night, Edward Zane, a small-time petty thief pulled off the caper of his life. He absconded with several very valuable heirlooms from the Houses, especially the recently recovered Cup of Astrid. There is also a concern that one of the items taken was home to a powerful efreeti. If that creature is released, recovery of the items will get... complicated. Not to mention the threat the man will represent. As a marqued agent of one of the major houses, it is my prerogative to accomplish the tast set out by my leal lord by any means necessary. When I thought of allies I would need to help me in this fight, you were the first I thought of. I ask your aid in tracking down and apprehending the thief. You're the best trained investigator I know. Besides, if things do go sour, I figured you could beat out the efreeti's power through sheer crusty stubbornness if nothing else."

"Oh, and I object to being accused of being on the nobles' side. I'm not nearly so heartless. Besides, it's more like they're on my side."

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as Captain Nathaniel to Eli:

Eli was awoken one morning by a young Postulant with a bizarre summons. If this was some kind of joke, the boy would likely be beaten within an inch of his life if not outright killed.

But if it were real, one did not delay when the most senior Gray Guard Captain in Delere'ele came more than halfway across the city to talk to you, specifically. Taking the offered Prestidigitation potion to quickly straighten himself out, he all but ran downstairs to the chill of the Gray Guard "offices".

'So it's true; he really is here...' He stepped forward and bowed deeply. "Captain Nathaniel? Eli Senti, reporting as ordered."
“Mister Senti. Good morning. I trust you’ll forgive the lack of forewarning for this meeting, but I myself knew of it only just a few hours ago. It seems the Church of Corellon is making moves to disallow worship of other God’s within the kingdom in any organized way.” Nathaniel’s brow furrowed angrily. He was quite livid by this turn of events. “They just pulled down the temples of Vecna and Pelor last night, and I assume more are to follow today. I need you to defend the temple. We cannot allow them to defile our shrine” He walked closer and spoke quietly. “Any other current assignments you have assigned to you right now are hereby dismissed. I’m putting you in command of the unit I’m putting in place. Last, Senti, I need you to find out what caused this, and if at all possible reverse it.” Nathaniel knew that Eli had proved deft in task in the past, and trusted he would get this done.

Replying as Gyork to Wilstaff and Bennett:

Caw approached The Boss, a bit nervous. Seemed to happen more and more lately. But the tribe was getting restless again, wanting to move on, and as the advisor he had to try to convince their increasingly erratic leader to listen to them. The area had become peaceful, almost serene, and there was no money in that for the largest clan of mercenaries Arteria had ever seen.

It remained largely hob, even though a few stragglers from the old Watch had come along for the ride and produced some extraordinarily ugly mixed-race children. All of them, every man, woman, and child, trained either in combat or a supporting role for the warriors. Boss's orders. And despite the murmurs, it had been decades since the last fellow had fallen who tried to question the Boss when he made a decree. Now obeying was as inbred for the clan as the Jenkins family line, thanks to their predilection for cousin-lovin'. Those who did not obey, or who died either in battle or out of it, still served the clan. Not in spirit, but certainly in ghastly, renanimated body.

Caw crept toward the throne, his gaze captured by the bright scarlet tunic their leader still wore to honor a time long past. The blue emblem of hands shaking, the unique crown insignia stitched above the chest. All of it seemed appropriately regal, save for the absurdly large arsenal of weaponry The Boss carried on him at all times. He always said that can't hurt to be prepared, unless you're the person facing someone who is prepared, in which case it sure as heckfire can. Caw gingerly tapped the leader on his shoulder with one long, withered finger. But The Boss just stared forward, deep in concentration. Shuffling of feet and polite coughing received the same lack of a response. Finally the advisor, forgetting himself, stomped in front of their fearless leader and began to shout.

Come on, Bennett. You know I hate the silent treatment.

The skeleton remained still atop his throne. The wiry, wild-eyed hobgoblin elder in front of him went on bended knee.

Fine, I'll keep it more professional. You're such a fuddy-duddy. I bring you news, O Exalted One. The clan is becoming restless; I feel that it may be time to find a new stomping ground, full of rich people who hate each other enough to make us rich ironing out their grudges. Any thoughts on the matter?

The skeleton does nothing. The hob begins to shout.

I SAID, ANY THOUGHTS ON THE MATTER? Honestly, I thought you had to have ears to start going deaf.

The skeleton does nothing. The hob rises from his kneeling position, wincing as he does so.

Well, I'm sure I don't know if Sheila from accounting has a crush on you. But given that you can order her to prostrate herself before you any time you wish, I think I like your chances with her. Can we get back to matters at hand?

A spider descends from The Boss's empty eye socket; his advisor removes it and sets it on the ground gently, then promptly smashes it to bits with two projectiles from a well-worn wand.

That's good to hear. The fellows are itching for some proper bloodshed. What's the place you have in mind?

The skeleton remains silent. Caw gasps.

You can't be serious, Bennie. Well, no, of course you are. You're never anything but serious. But why would we go there now, though? I thought we put that behind us.

More nothing.

Hold up now. Look, I know I'm crazy. I think it's safe to say I've come to terms with it. But if you're going crazy too, we have some serious problems. Why would we try to pull the same gag after how brilliantly we botched it last time?

The skeleton stares into space. The old hob sniffles, and wipes a tear from his eye.

No...you're right. We do owe it to him to try again. The first man to ever recognize your rights, and we let him down. But now, with all our training, our well-crafted web of contacts, our long breaks for rampant breeding...and I still don't know why you always assigned me the homeliest females for that, you backstabber; maybe now we're ready to help the Khan realize his mad, impossible, beautiful dream. Maybe now we can make him king. Would you like that, Khannonball Run?

He looks to his left at the horrifying mohrg towering over him, spikes emerging from his mottled orange skin. Caw smiles.

We knew you would. Then by your leave, Big Boss Man, I will inform the clan to prepare the wagons. Tomorrow we ride for Aldhaven!
Gyork’s spyglass was a wonderful thing. He could count the red hairs in the motley beard of one of the guards in the camp. He’d oogled a woman or two in his time with it too, but he was not here for that. Plus everyone knew the women in the former clan from Aldhaven were not so easy on the eyes, at least not to a Halfling. All nose hairs and women aside, though, Gyork saw a clan that knew what it was doing. He gestured to the Halfling next to him, and she scooted closer from where she huddled. She was missing an ear, the poor girl. He handed her the Gnomish Spyglass, and asked her what she saw.

“Warriors tents appear to be in an outer ring around the main camp. Women and children inside that circle.”

He could hear the distaste in her voice at that. Halfling women always were more hostile than the men. Unlike many races, women fought alongside men, both necessary in battle for different reasons. Humans and other folk seemed to forget this often, to their misfortune. Gyork imagined it would be unfortunate to count on one number charging you in battle, and finding a near double that in its place. It would take more than double to attack this clan however. It was mostly compromised of fighters, and even if the three Halfling tribes allied (which was entirely unlikely) it would be difficult to say who would win. Plus, it was said their leader was undead. How do you kill something that’s already dead?

“If Grenier wants to take them, we’re gonna need something special,” Gyork told Tonda.

Replying as GM to Elif:
[QUOTE=Forever Curious;Elif] Well, this had certainly explained the commotion that had interfered with her sleep last night. She gave a small nod the the server... Ruth, was it? The Tipsy Falcon had quite a turn over rate, and all these servers looked the same to Elif. [COLOR="MediumTurquoise"]"Good morning," she replied flatly, taking a seat next to the server. "Another brawl," she remarked, the smells coming from the kitchen peaking her appetite. It was something she didn't recognize, but it smelled wonderful. "A new dish?" she asked directly to the server, turning her head to look at her.

“Elmardian Pike,” said the server in reply. “It’s lunch,” she added quickly. “We don’t commonly get customers in the morn’. We ended up stopping serving breakfast about six months ago when 6 out of 7 days no one would come in to eat it. Waste of food.” She paused, thoughtfully. “I s’pose I could scrounge up some bread an’ maybe an egg or two from the pens. I’ll need a rubbings worth of silvers to do it though. Eggs are hard to find now-a-days.” She waited for Elif’s response.

Replying as "The Three" to Ander:

Ander reaches back to the spirit, pulling the unearthly calm back in, but keeping the alien will out, and faces the three, stairing into the shadows of the hood, the outline of the man's face clear to his elven eyes. He locks eyes with the man and says "I know there are not many elves running around this city, but surly you know that it is not just our subterrainian cousins that can see well in the dark. As to your question, I had hoped to avoid mentioning that, all I can say is that some more ethereal friends of mine say that a great place of walls, locks, and shadows is on the edge between destruction and prosperity, and they want me to witness the determination, I am here specifically because it was a condition of staying in my uncle's house." He continues to stare at the face that is only just to shadowed to read, and after a moment of calculating silence continues "you may want to get an oracle down here or a cleric or something, a... previous occupant wants to speak with you very badly." He suddenly wishes that he had taken his uncle's advice, and left the city.“Seeing is one thing, but what I was asking about was hearing,” Center says with an annoyed tone. The boy was spouting nonsense. Oracles? Great place of wall, locks, and shadows? The hang ups in the boys profile were coming to light. He hears voices- that I know…but crazy people have their uses. The trick is, do they help or hinder him? That’s not something they’d likely find out in an interview. He needed an audition. Something where he could be watched, maybe even advised. Ah ha!

“No matter,” he said before the boy could say anything. “Tell me about YOUR reasons for being here. I don’t care if it’s a condition your uncle has put forth. Why do YOU want to be here? This isn’t a charity. I’m not taking in someone just because they were forced to apply.” He needed to know the boy was loyal to them-especially in times where members of the society were snatched out from under their noses.

Replying as Dimitri Grayson to Reynald:

After cooling down somewhat, Reynald returned to his cabin to throw on a navy overcoat and fetch his cane. He would need to look presentable to the Board. After all, appearance mattered in high Society... he chuckles softly. According to Captain Whitefeather, Aldhaven was fast approaching. He need only look out the window to see his home city, but Reynald finds himself hesitant. So many memories here... bad mixed in with the good. However, there was still the matter of the curse. At first, he had had absolutely no idea who had tasked the mage to cast the spell on him, but after finding out Almeran, he found the answer staring starkly back at him.
The Painters Guild. Of course, I still have no idea who they really are, only that they seem to oppose us at every turn. The name had come later, the last words of a dying man during a midnight raid. From all of the intelligence Reynald had gathered, the guild seemed to be comprised mostly of lower class thieves and assassins. Four Society agents had been murdered over the course of the last year, which led to yet another question.
Why did they curse me? Why am I still breathing? The mage could have killed me that night. For some reason, they want me alive. Reynald takes a deep breath. The Painters would be brought to heel, justice done against their ringleaders. But first, he needed to retrieve the double agent. He makes his way back above-deck, watching as the crew of the Herald made preparations to dock. The city was there now, looming. Every crack, stone and plank was exactly as he remembered it. Somehow, everything was different though. There was an aura of tension here. Even from several miles away, Reynald could sense it. Things were changing, and not necessarily for the better. His reverie is cut off at the approach of two sets of footsteps. The Twins, of course. Kirin and Arlin Corvayne, his two enforcers. They dressed the same, crimson coats over matching black pants and shirts, complete with golden belt and boot buckles. However, up close one could easily spot the differences. Kirin had a more muscular build, wearing her golden hair longer. Underneath her coat one could see twin hilts, the golden wire protruding somewhat. Arlin, on the other hand, was even skinnier than his sister. He bore no overt weapons, instead carrying several pouches with what looked like spell components, as well as a small book. Their violet eyes stare back at Reynald, awaiting his orders. The Twins knew him well.
"We have nearly arrived. Now, once we have docked I want you to split up and begin searching for a crew. Strength, loyalty, and avarice are the primary attributes you should be looking for. Start in the taverns and the arena."
"Where will we meet you?"
"I'm not sure yet. I have to check back in with the other Society members before I can leave. Here, take these. It will help us keep in touch." From one of his pockets, Reynald pulls a pair of dark gold earring studs. He hands one to each twin.
"I acquired these toys fresh off the Brunsgrove market at a wonderful price. These will allow the three of us to communicate telepathically for up to fifty miles. Only wear them when you absolutely need to talk: the enchantments on these will only allow a certain amount of chatter every day." Reynald nods, seemingly to himself. Yes, this would work. Hopefully, the Twins would be quick about their task. Looking up, he can see the Aldhaven docks quite clearly. This early in the morning, the pier was not too busy, but the banker could make out figures going about their business as usual... hold on. There was one figure standing at the edge of a dock, staring at the Herald of Dross as it approached. Apparently, the Society had sent someone to greet them.Dimitri itched at his nose as the spray of yet another wave smacking against the docks tickled it. This might be a river, but with all the large boats casting out or coming in as the morning began, the waves reminded Dimitri of Cauld’s harbor. He missed the smell of salt and the sound of gulls. No matter. He couldn’t go back there if he wanted. Harbors just made him nostalgic. Reynold had all the luck being a senior agent. He actually got to get out of the city, and on a boat no less!

“Ah, there it is!” he said to the splashing waves and empty dock. They replied back schlorp schlorp. Another spray to the face. “Everyone’s a critic,” he said, rubbing his nose again.

The man waited until the ship came close, and then caught a line thrown his way as another of the crew jumped off and was tossed another rope. Together they brought the ship to dock, and secured it on the posts that ran along the gangway. As he saw Reynold approach, he remembered that in other ways, Dimitri was the luckier one. “Ah, Mr. Lheureux,” he bowed slightly, “Welcome back to Aldhaven. I’ve been tasked to bring you to an interview with one of our…erm…applicants.” He hardly thought it was fair to send the man immediately on a task as soon as he arrived in the city, but business was business he supposed. “Go ahead and gather what you need. I’ll lead you there when you’re ready.”

Replying as Graeden to Deneth and the (HOLY CRAP WHERE DID THAT GUY COME FROM) Greenwing:

"Give us two for him as well... breakfast is the only meal in a day a man needs. Hunger in the evening keeps you sharp!" replied the old captain before sitting at a corner table with a good view of the street.

"So Graeden eh? And what brings you out so early then? Heading for or returning from duty?" asks the Captain, though he was certain of the latter given the middle aged mans tired eyes and dark circles over the eyes. An all nighter... most likely on the wall... ah the Wall... he had not done a beat on the wall for ages... maybe he could pretend to go on an inspection tomorrow night... that would be grand!

"And between you and me... there aint no avoiding paperwork... it always gets you in the end!"

"Thank you, guardsman. You have been most helpful."

With that, Greenwing Drake begins to take off his coat as he casts the invisibility charm once more, giving the corporal just a peek of green wings as he disappears from sight. The theatrics are half of how he retains his reputation. Never hurts to re-seed the rumors of his untold powers in a reliable source.

As he follows the helpful corporal's directions, he ponders how best to convince the captain to help him. Just as he touches down behind the old badger, he overhears the crack about paperwork.

"I can help you put that off for a while longer if you'd like." He says while reappearing. "Have an off-the-books job from the Council of Ten that needs doing. You were the first one I thought of when looking for help."

The old captain masks his suprise. He had heard something but given the ambient noise in the pie shop he had not actually realised the man was behind him.

Still years of being suprised, ambushed and generally in much worse situations gave him an iron pokerface.

"Oh. Hello there Mr Drake. Heh... I guess this one is one of those 'teachable moments' that the Lieutenants asks me to illustrate to my people." he says looking towards the guardsman before him.

"This my dear boy is Mr Greenwing Drake of House Astrine. He is a sneaky devil in disguise but he is generally on the side of the good guys and order... or nobility in any case which in our fair city usually counts for the same even if it isnt always..." he says before turning to face the greenscaled halfling.

"Looking good there... I always said Green suits you. So... would you care to tell me more on this? We can take a stroll and eat our pies while we are at it... and before you go on about secrecy, you surely know that a semi-crowded street is a better place than a clandestine meeting in my office that is probably constantly under divination by half the Houses in this city..." he says with a sly smile.
“Aye, returning,” Graeden replied, stifling a yawn. He waited for the Captain to sit and took the other available to him at the table. Deneth got the seat he’d have liked in any case - it faced the door. Graeden always liked seeing what was going on and who was coming in. He’s nosey, some might say. Curious, others might answer. Honestly, Graeden’s job was to be both. You pick up some habits when that was the case. For instance, he always cut up all his food before eating it. He never slept with the window unlocked. He put a piece of paper in the crack of his door so he’d know if it had been opened. Paranoid, maybe, but he was still alive, and it helped him sleep. “Been on the wall for a couple of years now. Used to do foot, though. That was hairier, but I kinda liked that. Take last night. We get this small band of orcs demanding entry. Wanted to get at some drow he claimed was in the city…but he likely just wanted to cause trouble or check out our defenses. They’ve been getting braver.” He sighed at that. They had the whole of The Reach, why would they need Asarenholm? Aldhaven was happy to let in orcs, it was these bands of them that were the problem. And worse, now people were profiling orcs. The Guard had more and more reports of attacks ON orcs than the other way around.

"And between you and me... there aint no avoiding paperwork... it always gets you in the end!"

“Well, I—“

And then leaning against the wall appears a green skinned dragon man. He eyed the thing warily, but it seemed the captain was unperturbed. In fact, it seems they were friends. Deneth didn’t even flinch. After introductions were made, he found that the man was from House Astrine. I thought it was another House that was affiliated with dragons…

“Graeden Leventhair,” he said, offering a hand. “That’s a neat trick you got there, mind sharing your secret?”

Deneth mentioned eating the pies while they walked, and so Graeden offered Greenwing one of his own. He didn't think he could or should finish two this late in the day. He asked Deneth if he wanted Graeden to walk with them or if to head on home.

[planswalker]

Replying as Graeden to Deneth and the (HOLY CRAP WHERE DID THAT GUY COME FROM) Greenwing:

“Aye, returning,” Graeden replied, stifling a yawn. He waited for the Captain to sit and took the other available to him at the table. Deneth got the seat he’d have liked in any case - it faced the door. Graeden always liked seeing what was going on and who was coming in. He’s nosey, some might say. Curious, others might answer. Honestly, Graeden’s job was to be both. You pick up some habits when that was the case. For instance, he always cut up all his food before eating it. He never slept with the window unlocked. He put a piece of paper in the crack of his door so he’d know if it had been opened. Paranoid, maybe, but he was still alive, and it helped him sleep. “Been on the wall for a couple of years now. Used to do foot, though. That was hairier, but I kinda liked that. Take last night. We get this small band of orcs demanding entry. Wanted to get at some drow he claimed was in the city…but he likely just wanted to cause trouble or check out our defenses. They’ve been getting braver.” He sighed at that. They had the whole of The Reach, why would they need Asarenholm? Aldhaven was happy to let in orcs, it was these bands of them that were the problem. And worse, now people were profiling orcs. The Guard had more and more reports of attacks ON orcs than the other way around.

"And between you and me... there aint no avoiding paperwork... it always gets you in the end!"

“Well, I—“

And then leaning against the wall appears a green skinned dragon man. He eyed the thing warily, but it seemed the captain was unperturbed. In fact, it seems they were friends. Deneth didn’t even flinch. After introductions were made, he found that the man was from House Astrine. I thought it was another House that was affiliated with dragons…

“Graeden Leventhair,” he said, offering a hand. “That’s a neat trick you got there, mind sharing your secret?”

Deneth mentioned eating the pies while they walked, and so Graeden offered Greenwing one of his own. He didn't think he could or should finish two this late in the day. He asked Deneth if he wanted Graeden to walk with them or if to head on home.

"Greenwing Drake." He says shaking the hand quickly. "Yes, THAT Greenwing Drake. No, I'm not related to that house. Yes, the mistress of House Astrine and I go way back. Yes, that was a nice trick. You should see my good ones sometime."

"Anyways Captain, back to what we were talking about..."

[TheAntiplanar]

Reynald


Replying as Dimitri Grayson to Reynald:
Dimitri itched at his nose as the spray of yet another wave smacking against the docks tickled it. This might be a river, but with all the large boats casting out or coming in as the morning began, the waves reminded Dimitri of Cauld’s harbor. He missed the smell of salt and the sound of gulls. No matter. He couldn’t go back there if he wanted. Harbors just made him nostalgic. Reynold had all the luck being a senior agent. He actually got to get out of the city, and on a boat no less!

“Ah, there it is!” he said to the splashing waves and empty dock. They replied back schlorp schlorp. Another spray to the face. “Everyone’s a critic,” he said, rubbing his nose again.

The man waited until the ship came close, and then caught a line thrown his way as another of the crew jumped off and was tossed another rope. Together they brought the ship to dock, and secured it on the posts that ran along the gangway. As he saw Reynold approach, he remembered that in other ways, Dimitri was the luckier one. “Ah, Mr. Lheureux,” he bowed slightly, “Welcome back to Aldhaven. I’ve been tasked to bring you to an interview with one of our…erm…applicants.” He hardly thought it was fair to send the man immediately on a task as soon as he arrived in the city, but business was business he supposed. “Go ahead and gather what you need. I’ll lead you there when you’re ready.”

Smiling as he recognizes the face at the pier, Reynald feels somewhat energized. Today might be a productive day after all. The Herald docks slowly, the planks of the dock grumbling against the hull. All in all, an expert job by Danica. Reynald makes a mental note to give her a bonus in her next paycheck - her work as captain had truly been exemplary. As the gangplank is lowered, the banker saunters down towards the shore to greet Dimitri. He listens to the instructions, offering only a nod as response.
"So, they want to meet right away? It's a good thing we're not working alone, hm?" He snaps his fingers once. The Twins, bowing in a similar manner, begin to make their way into the city proper. Hopefully they would be quick about their task. Leaving the remainder of his belongings on board, Reynald gestures for Dimitri to lead on. Outwardly, the older man smiles, but on the inside he seethes with barely constrained anger.
An interview is already in progress? Why didn't they inform me? Damn it, every time it is something new. Gods, I long for the day where one can go about his business without being bothered by the newest trivia. They won't even give me time to visit the old manor - of course, I think I actually preferred the Brunsgrove house to my old Aldhaven one. Trying desperately to focus on something else, Reynald finds himself engaging the younger man in conversation.
"It's Mr. Grayson, right? I remember the day you joined the Society. What was it, four years ago?"
"Five, actually."
"Ah. I apologize. Time away from home will do that to a man."
"Oh, I know. I used to be a foreigner to these parts myself."
"Really? Where do you hail from?" The agent deigns not to respond, turning away for a moment before forcing a smile. Reynald knew that look: he had seen it in the mirror many times before. The bitter mask, the emptiness. Best not to bring up the subject, then. The rest of the walk is carried out in silence. Thankfully, they did not have all that far to go. By the time they reach the Sapphire Swan, Reynald feels like sitting. The coughing was back now, in full force. Warm blood trickles over his chin again.
Take a deep breath. In and out, in and out. That's it. It takes well over a minute to compose himself and get back up.
"Are you alright, sir?"
"Perfectly fine, thank you. It would be best if we were to get inside, I think." He allows Dimitri to open the door for him, and begins to scan the crowd for the aforementioned contact. This was... unusual for the Society. Normally they held interviews in the Morganstern Hall itself, deeper in the Guild Quarter. As he searches, Reynald begins to wonder what kind of interview he had been roped into this time.

[TechnOkami]

Gix sniffs the bowl, gives it a tentative lick, looks up at Iothfrahar, and then sets about to lick up as much as he can as quick as he can. Meanwhile Iothfrahar just leans against his scythe and drinks slowly. Best dwarf brew I've ever had. I'll be sure to reccomend you. he pauses, pondering But don't expect much extra business from it. Most people I work with aren't long for this world.......no matter how much I try and prevent it.

The Dwarf pauses for a moment, listening to what his customer has to say.

"Thank ye kindly."

Taking a quick glance around, and after being thoroughly convinced everyone else was rather happy with their food and drink, the little Druid took a seat opposite his customer, and procured an ale for himself. After a few seconds of pouring amber waters down his throat, Jägerstein sighed with contention.

His focus snapped back when the lack of co-workers bit of his speech appeared.

"Oh...? N' why aren' they gonna be 'ere long?"

He took a few more drinks.

"If ya don' mind me askin'."

[The Bandicoot]

Iothfrahar takes another gulp and sighs, pulling a long piece of twine from his pocket. Attached to the twine are dozens of scales of various sizes and colors. Each scale has a two names carved into it, one in draconic and another in common. My line of work is one fraught with death. For every evil beast I slay I have lost allies. he pats Gix's head. Gix here nearly had a scale himself.... Gix rolls over for a belly rub, showing off three large jagged scars.

[TechnOkami]

Jägerstein's eyes seem to become hollow for a split second, returning to normalcy after taking one last long gulp, emptying his stein.

"Ah know how ya feel. Ah almost lost me bear once. E's stubborn as a bull tho, n' didn't give in. Ah dunno wha' I'd be withou' 'im."

His earthy brown eyes gazed upon the various scales bound to that reed.

"E's been a while since a've last seen one, but ah can tell by their tapers n' colors; tha's a Dragon Scale. Yer a Dragon Hunter, ain't ye?"

[hustlertwo]

Replying as Gyork to Wilstaff and Bennett:

Gyork’s spyglass was a wonderful thing. He could count the red hairs in the motley beard of one of the guards in the camp. He’d oogled a woman or two in his time with it too, but he was not here for that. Plus everyone knew the women in the former clan from Aldhaven were not so easy on the eyes, at least not to a Halfling. All nose hairs and women aside, though, Gyork saw a clan that knew what it was doing. He gestured to the Halfling next to him, and she scooted closer from where she huddled. She was missing an ear, the poor girl. He handed her the Gnomish Spyglass, and asked her what she saw.

“Warriors tents appear to be in an outer ring around the main camp. Women and children inside that circle.”

He could hear the distaste in her voice at that. Halfling women always were more hostile than the men. Unlike many races, women fought alongside men, both necessary in battle for different reasons. Humans and other folk seemed to forget this often, to their misfortune. Gyork imagined it would be unfortunate to count on one number charging you in battle, and finding a near double that in its place. It would take more than double to attack this clan however. It was mostly compromised of fighters, and even if the three Halfling tribes allied (which was entirely unlikely) it would be difficult to say who would win. Plus, it was said their leader was undead. How do you kill something that’s already dead?

“If Grenier wants to take them, we’re gonna need something special,” Gyork told Tonda.


If Gyork continues to look through his glass, he will see a a pair of specks heading toward his clan at a plodding pace. They grows closer and closer, revealing themselves to be an old, red-skinned hobgoblin, ropy muscles flexing tightly as he grips the reins of his slow-moving and similarly elderly horse with what appears to be mortal terror, and a human with a quiet air of dignity about him astride a somewhat less ancient steed. They approach the halfling camp, and the hob dismounts, bending down and kissing the ground as he does so. He then looks to his companion.

Good grief! I could feel my life flashing before my eyes every time this speed demon took a step. Why must we embrace such a hair-raising mode of travel, dear B?

The human says nothing.

Yes, I know, keeping up appearances. Still, this has to be like seventh on my list of preferred traveling methods, well below 'carried by several buxom babes'. Or even 'carried by magically animated rotting piles of flesh', for that matter.

He then remembers they are not alone, and turns with a grand sweeping gesture to face the halflings.

Greetings, tiny almost-people! I am Chief Advisor Wilstaff, and I give you a message in the name of The Boss: we surrender!

He looks over his shoulder at the human behind him.

No? That's not right? What part did I-oh, right! I'm sorry people, I meant you surrender. Yes, that's it. You surrender to us or we shall destroy you. However, if being destroyed would put a crimp in your long-term goals, we offer an alternate solution: you pay us an exorbitant wage, and in return we raze your enemies to the ground and make you a dominant force in this area. You have no less than seventeen minutes, and also five additional 'bonus time' minutes to decide. Thank you for choosing Blue Hands Inc. for all your ultimatum needs.

He then awaits their response while having a long and rather one-sided argument with his human friend about who had received the more comfortable saddle for their ride.

[The Bandicoot]

Iothfrahar nods and points to a large dark green scale. He lays it flat on the table and puts a finger under the names written in Draconic. Ashok the Acid Flayer. Big one. Had a nasty habit of using just enough acid to melt off the armor and the skin. He was my last kill. he closes his eyes and quickly says an old dwarven prayer asking Moradin to protect his 'brother'.

Slowly he moves his finger so it's underneath the other name, which is written in Dwarvish. The name reads Barel Glantek Most stubborn beardless elf loving dwarf I ever knew...I tried to bring him back but I imagine Moradin is keeping him in well enough company he didn't want to risk coming back as anything but a dwarf. he closes his eyes,finishes off his mug in a single gulp and takes a seat quickly as if a heavy weight has been dropped on his shoulders. His scythe stays gripped tightly in his hand and his other hand wanders through the scales, looking at specific ones. He seems deep in thought.

[TheAntiplanar]

Responding to Malenth

Malenth soon arrives at the Saphire Swan, an upscale tavern on the waterfront near the entrance to the Noble district. The place was classy, without being pompous. The tables were made of polished mahogony, with leather apholstery on the chairs and benches, and fixtures of polished brass were plentiful. At this time of day, the place was nearly empty.

Malenth headed to the counter without any fuss, and a well dressed bartender greeted him from behind a row of taps. "Greetings Milord. You're in early today. What can I get you?"

"A glass of Goldendew Ale, my good man. I've had a rough night, and some hair of the dog that bit me is just what the doctor ordered."

The bartender looks at Malenth for a moment, who looks around the bar with casual interest. "I'm afraid that the last keg was purchased by a customer in one of my private rooms. If you think you can convince him to share it, I'll take you to meet him."

Malenth smiles and rises from his seat. "Lead on, my good man"
A fly crawls across the mahogany plank. Polyae watches the progress of the insect, entranced by its progress. What went on in its funny little brain? Did it understand its actions? The representative of the Morganstern Society sat in a plush chair, facing the door into the bar proper. She could hear little from outdoors, and to be frank she preferred it that way. They paid her well, and kept their distance. Much better than her last employer. Usually, meetings like this involved an outside client, but for some reason today's missive dictated that she act as a liaison to a potential new employee. The interviewee was one Malenth D'Everet, a young nobleman who showed promise and seemed willing to sign on as an apprentice. That was relatively standard: the Morganstern Society made a habit of picking the winning side, and it helps to win when one has more funding and can bend the rules a bit. There was one thing Polyae Cassain was not, and that was naïve. She knew the lengths that people with power were willing to go to maintain their positions. This meeting was unique in two things, however: locale and personnel. The fact that this particular admission interview was being carried out in the back room of the Sapphire Swan instead of the regular interview chamber in Morganstern Hall was of little concern to her. Well, the keg of Goldendew Ale she had ordered was definitely making up for it. She takes a long draught out of the mug.
Delicious. Rich, with a full oaky flavor and great aftertaste. And the Board is footing the bill! I should request assignments like these! Her smug expression dies, however, as she remembers the second reason for irregularity today. Reynald Lheureux. This was not the first time Polyae had heard the name, of course. Many thought he was secretly a Board member, but the events of the past year and a half pointed to the contrary. A mysterious accident, and all of a sudden one of the Society's most prominent figures simply ups and disappears across the globe? None of the given explanations fit. Polyae had never met the man. In either case, she would meet both men in short time. Her worries are cut short by the opening of the door and the appearance of the bartender, followed by an unfamiliar man that Polyae takes to be Malenth.
"Good morning gentlemen! My name is Polyae Cassain, and my official title is 'emissary'. If you could leave me and this man here, that would be wonderful. We have some delicate business to discuss. I'm sure you understand. Mr. D'Everet, would you please sit?"

[TechnOkami]

"Ah met a Dragon once. Big red fellow. Ah was able to stop 'im from charrin' me n' mah mates to a cinder wit' beer. Jus' flew up n' offered 'im a drink! He asked fer an unendin' bottl' o' the stuff afterwards. Tha's the first time ah did business wit' a Dragon."

Jägerstein turned to his customer who had turned to melancholy.

"Yer story's unfortunate tho'. If ah know me Dwarven Gods, which ah hope ah do, 'e's most likely 'appy up there somewhere."

The little dwarf pats a burly hand on his shoulder.

"Yeh can come 'ere to drown yer sorrows whenev'r ya like. Yer gonna 'ave to pay next time tho'. Ah can' make a livin' servin' free beer willy nilly. N' if ah could, I'd be the 'appiest Dwarf 'round."

[Crafty Cultist]

A fly crawls across the mahogany plank. Polyae watches the progress of the insect, entranced by its progress. What went on in its funny little brain? Did it understand its actions? The representative of the Morganstern Society sat in a plush chair, facing the door into the bar proper. She could hear little from outdoors, and to be frank she preferred it that way. They paid her well, and kept their distance. Much better than her last employer. Usually, meetings like this involved an outside client, but for some reason today's missive dictated that she act as a liaison to a potential new employee. The interviewee was one Malenth D'Everet, a young nobleman who showed promise and seemed willing to sign on as an apprentice. That was relatively standard: the Morganstern Society made a habit of picking the winning side, and it helps to win when one has more funding and can bend the rules a bit. There was one thing Polyae Cassain was not, and that was naïve. She knew the lengths that people with power were willing to go to maintain their positions. This meeting was unique in two things, however: locale and personnel. The fact that this particular admission interview was being carried out in the back room of the Sapphire Swan instead of the regular interview chamber in Morganstern Hall was of little concern to her. Well, the keg of Goldendew Ale she had ordered was definitely making up for it. She takes a long draught out of the mug.
Delicious. Rich, with a full oaky flavor and great aftertaste. And the Board is footing the bill! I should request assignments like these! Her smug expression dies, however, as she remembers the second reason for irregularity today. Reynald Lheureux. This was not the first time Polyae had heard the name, of course. Many thought he was secretly a Board member, but the events of the past year and a half pointed to the contrary. A mysterious accident, and all of a sudden one of the Society's most prominent figures simply ups and disappears across the globe? None of the given explanations fit. Polyae had never met the man. In either case, she would meet both men in short time. Her worries are cut short by the opening of the door and the appearance of the bartender, followed by an unfamiliar man that Polyae takes to be Malenth.
"Good morning gentlemen! My name is Polyae Cassain, and my official title is 'emissary'. If you could leave me and this man here, that would be wonderful. We have some delicate business to discuss. I'm sure you understand. Mr. D'Everet, would you please sit?"

Malenth gives the bartender a nod and steps calmly into the room, removing his coat and hat, draping the coat over the back of his chair before taking his seat, placing his hat in front of him and letting his cane rest against the table.

Malenth lowers his head slightly with a look of confident politeness on his face. "A pleasure, my lady. I must admit, I'm not used to meetings like this. Nevertheless, we should get things underway."

This is it. The revival of the D'Everet house starts here and now.

[SamBurke]

Zhin waits for a few minutes, impatiently expecting the people of the market to bow, or at least do the failing salute that the guard did. Not even one... apparently warriors carried much less respect here, and now.

Even worse, not a soul spoke up about magic. Apparently, communication was VERY different from his hometown. Despite the unbearable din of the crowd, few people were yelling, bellowing, or screaming.. it was sort of orderly, actually. Each stall was separate from the next, had its own purpose... Strange, but useful. If he could find one for magic, then, presumably, it would be able to help him, or at least command a minor spirit for his aid.

Spirits. Bah. Idiot slaves, to be trapped and contained, hedged, tied, hindered, destroyed. If he could get his hands on one... well, there was the problem, right there. He had heard something about a robbery from the guard, but not much. Still, a powerful and evil spirit trapped in a bracelet could only give him more power, even if it wasn't the one he wanted.

Each step carried him closer to his goal -or, conversely, farther. Either way, he was going to something, and, eventually, he'd find someone to help. For now, Zhin turned his massive frame towards an enclosed shop, and stepped through the door without regard to the ceiling.

After brushing off some of his shoulder spines and removing chunks of wood from his head, Zhin turned to the shopkeeper of "Arlar's Arcana," some sort of gaudy magic dealer.

"I seek magical spells to be cast. For eternity. Do you, keeper, know of one who could wield them?"


Permanence is level 5, Speak Tongues is 3 if I remember correctly.

[The Bandicoot]

Iothfrahar shakes the melancholy off and tosses a small bag of gold onto the table before pocketing the scales. Interesting taverns tend to attract the kind of people willing to throw their lot in with an old dragon hunter. Mind if I stay here for a few days? he slides his bedroll and pack off his back and sets them on the floor next to him.

[TechnOkami]

Jägerstein eyes the bag of clinking gold, then looks back up at the Dragon Hunter.

"Sorry to say, this ain't a tavern; it's a pub. I's supposed to be a place fer drinkin' an' eatin', not sleepin'. Howev'r, yer a good laddie, n' ah suppose I can offer ye some space in me home upstairs, if ye let me keep this, o' course." The Dwarf picks up and shakes the bag of gold.

"Oh! Tha' reminds me: a've got a bit of a shortage on people 'ere. I didn' think tha' I'd get so many customers so quickly, n' ah think tha' I need more people than just a bear n' a Dwarf. If ya can cook, tend a bar, or wait on people, ya could still sleep 'ere without having to give me dis bag o' shiney's, at least until ah get more people- ...unless you wan' to get a job 'ere."

The Dwarf tosses the bag of coins between his hands, waiting for his decision.

[The Bandicoot]

Iothfrahar thinks a bit I can cook....it's not going to be five course meals....but it will certainly match your nature theme. he grins and stands up My Dragon Bits Stew is my best recipe. Keep the gold, I imagine it could act as a tab of some sort?

[Calicade]

In Reply to
[QUOTE=SamBurke;13745285]Zhin waits for a few minutes, impatiently expecting the people of the market to bow, or at least do the failing salute that the guard did. Not even one... apparently warriors carried much less respect here, and now.

Even worse, not a soul spoke up about magic. Apparently, communication was VERY different from his hometown. Despite the unbearable din of the crowd, few people were yelling, bellowing, or screaming.. it was sort of orderly, actually. Each stall was separate from the next, had its own purpose... Strange, but useful. If he could find one for magic, then, presumably, it would be able to help him, or at least command a minor spirit for his aid.

Spirits. Bah. Idiot slaves, to be trapped and contained, hedged, tied, hindered, destroyed. If he could get his hands on one... well, there was the problem, right there. He had heard something about a robbery from the guard, but not much. Still, a powerful and evil spirit trapped in a bracelet could only give him more power, even if it wasn't the one he wanted.

Each step carried him closer to his goal -or, conversely, farther. Either way, he was going to something, and, eventually, he'd find someone to help. For now, Zhin turned his massive frame towards an enclosed shop, and stepped through the door without regard to the ceiling.

After brushing off some of his shoulder spines and removing chunks of wood from his head, Zhin turned to the shopkeeper of "Arlar's Arcana," some sort of gaudy magic dealer.

"I seek magical spells to be cast. For eternity. Do you, keeper, know of one who could wield them?"

Maticus sat and waited for his informant to come, but with no success. Finally coming to the realization that the informant wasn’t coming, he dug into the pouch and looked back over the piece of paper for any missed information. Finding nothing but the same details from earlier, he decided to throw the paper to the side and curse in clusters under his breath.

Sitting there for a moment later, unable to think of his next step, Maticus witnesses a large spikey man cladded in armor walk into the area. Openly staring at the man he found himself curious at the spectacle of some being he hadn't seen before.

Maticus waited longer to only hear something that pleased his ears. The man was looking for assistance and magical services. The very slim chance that they were on the same path came across his mind, but it quickly was pushed aside.

He couldn't seem to eager though, so Maticus waited. Maticus admired how the man looked down upon on the other humans, finding it slightly refreshing from the usual. Actual power that wasn't considered a royal standing or political connections. Though his observation was cut short when the man finally decided to turn and enter into a shop.

Watching the man slightly break the door as he entered, Maticus slowly stood up and followed him. Stepping as quitely as he could in his armor, keeping his wrists ontop both of his blades. He stepped just a few yards behind the man as he entered the building, and waited for him to exit.

[TheAntiplanar]

Malenth gives the bartender a nod and steps calmly into the room, removing his coat and hat, draping the coat over the back of his chair before taking his seat, placing his hat in front of him and letting his cane rest against the table.

Malenth lowers his head slightly with a look of confident politeness on his face. "A pleasure, my lady. I must admit, I'm not used to meetings like this. Nevertheless, we should get things underway."

This is it. The revival of the D'Everet house starts here and now.
Polyae:
As the bartender leaves, Polyae sits across from the candidate. Hmm. His clothes were not too shabby, and at least he carried the air of a nobleman. In fact, he seemed quite attractive for one of his position. The Society could definitely use people like that. Acting as a face for deals and contracts was a low level position, somewhat like being an emissary. Of course, 'low level' was still good pay, as far as the Asarenholm job market was concerned. However, there was still the matter of admission itself. Mr. Lheureux had yet to appear - late, which Polyae was told would not happen. Best get started on her own, then. It was a good thing that she had prepared for this contingency. From her satchel, she pulls a clipboard and a pen. Across the top of the page, she writes a title: D'Everet Interview.
"Alright. Let's start with three basic questions. What is your name? Why are you here? And what can you do?"

Reynald:
Reynald watches the pair enter the back room, and the bartender leave. There, it had to be them. The Society would send someone to act in the interim, but the merchant knew that they would wait for his arrival. Well, let them wait for a minute more. He had earned the right to a moment's rest. The coughing has fully subsided now, the force racking his bones now asleep. Signalling for Dimitri to stay behind him, Reynald approaches the door to listen to the conversation beyond. He only hears fragments, but it is enough.
Are... are they actually starting the interview without me?! How dare they? I've been away for far too long. Things have changed around here, and I don't think it's for the better. This is so insulting. I'm going to - Reynald, forced to focus his ire for the third time today, opens the door into the back room before the interviewee can answer any questions.
"Good morning. My name is Reynald Lheureux. I am here to conduct an interview for one Malenth D'Everet, not to be upstaged by an emissary who thinks herself above her station. What I can do is contact the Board and have you out of my guild in a heartbeat. Now, will you at least do me the courtesy of leaving me with the candidate? Take your diary with you. Mr. Grayson will take you to Morganstern Hall to pack your things."Waiting until Polyae leaves, Reynald visibly deflates, coughing twice. The tactic seems to have worked, for now. Hopefully, she understood that he was in no position to actually fire her. The end goal was intimidation: if this young man thought that a single disobedience would bring about career termination, than he would be that much more motivated to follow orders to the letter. If not, well there was little else that would work anyway. He takes her seat across from Malenth, staring the nobleman down. Unlike the emissary, he did not need a paper and pen to remember the conversation that was about to occur.
"I apologize that you had to see that. You must understand, we pay our associates very well and offer the opportunity for limited advancement. In return, however, we expect results! Have I made myself clear?"

[Crafty Cultist]

Polyae:
As the bartender leaves, Polyae sits across from the candidate. Hmm. His clothes were not too shabby, and at least he carried the air of a nobleman. In fact, he seemed quite attractive for one of his position. The Society could definitely use people like that. Acting as a face for deals and contracts was a low level position, somewhat like being an emissary. Of course, 'low level' was still good pay, as far as the Asarenholm job market was concerned. However, there was still the matter of admission itself. Mr. Lheureux had yet to appear - late, which Polyae was told would not happen. Best get started on her own, then. It was a good thing that she had prepared for this contingency. From her satchel, she pulls a clipboard and a pen. Across the top of the page, she writes a title: D'Everet Interview.
"Alright. Let's start with three basic questions. What is your name? Why are you here? And what can you do?"

Reynald:
Reynald watches the pair enter the back room, and the bartender leave. There, it had to be them. The Society would send someone to act in the interim, but the merchant knew that they would wait for his arrival. Well, let them wait for a minute more. He had earned the right to a moment's rest. The coughing has fully subsided now, the force racking his bones now asleep. Signalling for Dimitri to stay behind him, Reynald approaches the door to listen to the conversation beyond. He only hears fragments, but it is enough.
Are... are they actually starting the interview without me?! How dare they? I've been away for far too long. Things have changed around here, and I don't think it's for the better. This is so insulting. I'm going to - Reynald, forced to focus his ire for the third time today, opens the door into the back room before the interviewee can answer any questions.
"Good morning. My name is Reynald Lheureux. I am here to conduct an interview for one Malenth D'Everet, not to be upstaged by an emissary who thinks herself above her station. What I can do is contact the Board and have you out of my guild in a heartbeat. Now, will you at least do me the courtesy of leaving me with the candidate? Take your diary with you. Mr. Grayson will take you to Morganstern Hall to pack your things."Waiting until Polyae leaves, Reynald visibly deflates, coughing twice. The tactic seems to have worked, for now. Hopefully, she understood that he was in no position to actually fire her. The end goal was intimidation: if this young man thought that a single disobedience would bring about career termination, than he would be that much more motivated to follow orders to the letter. If not, well there was little else that would work anyway. He takes her seat across from Malenth, staring the nobleman down. Unlike the emissary, he did not need a paper and pen to remember the conversation that was about to occur.
"I apologize that you had to see that. You must understand, we pay our associates very well and offer the opportunity for limited advancement. In return, however, we expect results! Have I made myself clear?"


Malenth's face was a mask of attentiveness, but internally he was grinning. If the society has this much friction between members, rising through the ranks would be easy. High turnover means plenty of opportunities for those with the skills to stay in the game.

Malenth lowered his head slightly in deference. "I understand, sir. Make no mistake, I can produce results. Now, shall we get this interview underway? Since the... previous interviewer didn't have time t hear the answers to her questions, I'll give my answers to you. I suspect it would come up in our conversation anyway, so it would be prudent to get it out of the way now."

A practiced veneer of calm hiding his nervousness, Malenth spoke confidently. "My name is Malenth D'Everet, head of the D'Everet house. I am here because the Morganstien Society seems to be an excellent place to form contacts and gain access to resources. As for what I can do, In addition to the decorum and social competence expected of a noble, I am a passable swordsman and a fairly skilled mage. But if you're asking what sets me apart, it would be this."

Rising from his seat, Malenth drew a sword from his cane, it's thin blade covered in odd lines and markings. "Magic weapons have become a rarity in this day and age. In only fifty years, the techniques and methods involved in their creation have all but been lost." Malenth smiles confidently before speaking in Ignan "Ignite!"

As he spoke, a sphereical red gemstone set into the handle of the sword cane began glowing, and the blade burst into flame. "By studying the items created in ancient times, and after some experimentation of my own, I have crafted this sword. The design is not as robust as those of old, but my creations are still a league above mundane devices. Douse!"

His demonstration complete, Malenth sheaths his sword-cane and returns to his seat. "Is there anything else you wish to know?"

[TheAntiplanar]

Reynald



Malenth's face was a mask of attentiveness, but internally he was grinning. If the society has this much friction between members, rising through the ranks would be easy. High turnover means plenty of opportunities for those with the skills to stay in the game.

Malenth lowered his head slightly in deference. "I understand, sir. Make no mistake, I can produce results. Now, shall we get this interview underway? Since the... previous interviewer didn't have time t hear the answers to her questions, I'll give my answers to you. I suspect it would come up in our conversation anyway, so it would be prudent to get it out of the way now."

A practiced veneer of calm hiding his nervousness, Malenth spoke confidently. "My name is Malenth D'Everet, head of the D'Everet house. I am here because the Morganstern Society seems to be an excellent place to form contacts and gain access to resources. As for what I can do, In addition to the decorum and social competence expected of a noble, I am a passable swordsman and a fairly skilled mage. But if you're asking what sets me apart, it would be this."

Rising from his seat, Malenth drew a sword from his cane, its thin blade covered in odd lines and markings. "Magic weapons have become a rarity in this day and age. In only fifty years, the techniques and methods involved in their creation have all but been lost." Malenth smiles confidently before speaking in Ignan: "Ignite!"

As he spoke, a spherical red gemstone set into the handle of the sword cane began glowing, and the blade burst into flame. "By studying the items created in ancient times, and after some experimentation of my own, I have crafted this sword. The design is not as robust as those of old, but my creations are still a league above mundane devices. Douse!"

His demonstration complete, Malenth sheaths his sword-cane and returns to his seat. "Is there anything else you wish to know?"
Throughout the presentation, Reynald keeps his face impassive. Yes, this particular young man had potential indeed. A mage and a fighter, on top of his credentials! He might prove to be quite useful, perhaps in the near future... Yes. He would need strong fighters such as this one, and the fire magic sealed the deal for now. However, it would be a sign of weakness to show the young man any of this. Malenth would have to believe that the Morganstern Society was taking a risk with him. Reynald meets the fire mage's eyes.
"Fascinating. There might be a spot open for you, should you choose to accept it. I am told that you are looking for an apprenticeship. Now, I'm not supposed to divulge this yet, but you will know soon enough. Recently, there have been some... setbacks within the Society. One of our members was kidnapped by a bandit warlord named Lanath Orcbane. My assignment is to gather a team to stop him and recover the agent. This is to be your first task for the Morganstern Society. I assure you, the pay is more than generous." He settles back in his chair, eyeing the barrel of Goldendew Ale in the corner. It had been far too long since Reynald had had a drink such as that one... no. He felt the bonds of restraint, an old friend greeting him at the gates of sobriety. Wrenching his gaze back to Malenth, the banker's eyes are steely. There would be two ways this situation would play out. Either the mage would accept the offer, or Reynald would be forced to erase the man's memory of these events. That, of course, was the problem with spilling Society secrets before any sort of agreement was signed. Normally, such a course of action would be rash, to say the least. However, Reynald's current annoyance at the Board demanded a certain amount of indiscretion on his part. There was no question of cleaning up his own mess, though. After all, vendettas only did go so far.
"Take your time, Mr. D'Everet. You have as long as you need to make up your mind."

[Crafty Cultist]

Throughout the presentation, Reynald keeps his face impassive. Yes, this particular young man had potential indeed. A mage and a fighter, on top of his credentials! He might prove to be quite useful, perhaps in the near future... Yes. He would need strong fighters such as this one, and the fire magic sealed the deal for now. However, it would be a sign of weakness to show the young man any of this. Malenth would have to believe that the Morganstern Society was taking a risk with him. Reynald meets the fire mage's eyes.
"Fascinating. There might be a spot open for you, should you choose to accept it. I am told that you are looking for an apprenticeship. Now, I'm not supposed to divulge this yet, but you will know soon enough. Recently, there have been some... setbacks within the Society. One of our members was kidnapped by a bandit warlord named Lanath Orcbane. My assignment is to gather a team to stop him and recover the agent. This is to be your first task for the Morganstern Society. I assure you, the pay is more than generous." He settles back in his chair, eyeing the barrel of Goldendew Ale in the corner. It had been far too long since Reynald had had a drink such as that one... no. He felt the bonds of restraint, an old friend greeting him at the gates of sobriety. Wrenching his gaze back to Malenth, the banker's eyes are steely. There would be two ways this situation would play out. Either the mage would accept the offer, or Reynald would be forced to erase the man's memory of these events. That, of course, was the problem with spilling Society secrets before any sort of agreement was signed. Normally, such a course of action would be rash, to say the least. However, Reynald's current annoyance at the Board demanded a certain amount of indiscretion on his part. There was no question of cleaning up his own mess, though. After all, vendettas only did go so far.
"Take your time, Mr. D'Everet. You have as long as you need to make up your mind."

Malenth raises an eyebrow upon hearing about the situation with the agent. He was expecting a test, but he thought political dealings would be involved, not trained drow commandos. Still, something like this would definitely prove his worth.

An unreadable face is to be expected from a high ranking member, but I can tell he's interested. The fact that he offered up a chase to prove myself shows that he can see my potential.

After a few moments deliberation spent tapping his fingers on the tip of his cane, Malenth spoke up. "What sort of budget will this operation have? I assume I will be given a letter of credit for the purposes of paying mercenaries and other such expenses. And exactly how much do you know about this warlord?"

Resting his hands upon his cane, Malenth gives a confident smile. "You can't expect me to bet my life on this without knowing the odds, can you?"

[TheAntiplanar]

Reynald



Malenth raises an eyebrow upon hearing about the situation with the agent. He was expecting a test, but he thought political dealings would be involved, not trained drow commandos. Still, something like this would definitely prove his worth.

An unreadable face is to be expected from a high ranking member, but I can tell he's interested. The fact that he offered up a chase to prove myself shows that he can see my potential.

After a few moments deliberation spent tapping his fingers on the tip of his cane, Malenth spoke up. "What sort of budget will this operation have? I assume I will be given a letter of credit for the purposes of paying mercenaries and other such expenses. And exactly how much do you know about this warlord?"

Resting his hands upon his cane, Malenth gives a confident smile. "You can't expect me to bet my life on this without knowing the odds, can you?"
Outwardly, Reynald smiles at Malenth's curiosity. The older man gets up, motioning for the noble to do the same. There was no more time to be wasted here: they would need to get to Morganstern Hall, to the Signing Chambers. However, behind the mask Reynald cannot help but feel a tinge of disappointment clouding his satisfaction.
He is already displaying arrogance... Making assumptions and asking questions in an informal manner. His smile is good for the public, but in here it is anything but appropriate. Does he truly not know that the test isn't over until is actually admitted? Reynald turns to the mage, stepping close. His voice is slightly hoarse: the product of several sleepless nights.
"I will say this but once. Yes, sometimes we will expect loyalty without answering your questions. The Morganstern Society operates on a strictly need to know basis. You will buy nothing: as an apprentice, you have no Society holdings and as such are not a liable source of capital. All funding is to come from the Society treasury. Now, follow me. There is of course paperwork that needs doing." His speech over for the time being, Reynald leads the fire mage out of the Sapphire Swan, out into the street. He looks around. The tavern seemed to be somewhere in the Noble District, by the looks of their surroundings. Gods, it had truly been a lifetime since he was back here. From this very corner, the merchant could pick out the way to his old manor! The temptation to take a trip down memory lane nearly overwhelms him, but Reynald shoves back down into oblivion. Time for that later, perhaps. His thoughts are interrupted by a foreign voice.
Sir? We have found an interested party. A thief, seems kinda desperate to get out of Aldhaven, of you ask me. His price was a bit too low.
That's alright, Kirin. We'll just have to keep an eye on him as well. I have no doubt that we will run into our fair share of trouble along the way. That's just the way of the universe.
As you say. Where should we meet?
Hmmm... let's say outside the Hall, in an hour. I have a recruit with me, he will need to be admitted before we can get him up to speed. Reynald had barely noticed the route Dimitri had led him on to get him here, but he knew the route to Morganstern Hall easily enough. Nodding once, he sets off, navy blue coat streaming behind him and ivory cane at his side.

[Crafty Cultist]

Outwardly, Reynald smiles at Malenth's curiosity. The older man gets up, motioning for the noble to do the same. There was no more time to be wasted here: they would need to get to Morganstern Hall, to the Signing Chambers. However, behind the mask Reynald cannot help but feel a tinge of disappointment clouding his satisfaction.
He is already displaying arrogance... Making assumptions and asking questions in an informal manner. His smile is good for the public, but in here it is anything but appropriate. Does he truly not know that the test isn't over until he signs the admission papers? Reynald turns to the mage, stepping close. His voice is slightly hoarse: the product of several sleepless nights.
"I will say this but once. Yes, sometimes we will expect loyalty without answering your questions. The Morganstern Society operates on a strictly need to know basis. You will buy nothing: as an apprentice, you have no Society holdings and as such are not a liable source of capital. All funding is to come from the Society treasury. Now, follow me. There is of course paperwork that needs doing." His speech over for the time being, Reynald leads the fire mage out of the Sapphire Swan, out into the street. He looks around. The tavern seemed to be somewhere in the Noble District, by the looks of their surroundings. Gods, it had truly been a lifetime since he was back here. From this very corner, the merchant could pick out the way to his old manor! The temptation to take a trip down memory lane nearly overwhelms him, but Reynald shoves back down into oblivion. Time for that later, perhaps. His thoughts are interrupted by a foreign voice.
Sir? We have found an interested party. A thief, seems kinda desperate to get out of Aldhaven, of you ask me. His price was a bit too low.
That's alright, Kirin. We'll just have to keep an eye on him as well. I have no doubt that we will run into our fair share of trouble along the way. That's just the way of the universe.
As you say. Where should we meet?
Hmmm... let's say outside the Hall, in an hour. I have a recruit with me, he will need to sign some papers before we can get him up to speed. Reynald had barely noticed the route Dimitri had led him on to get him here, but he knew the route to Morganstern Hall easily enough. Nodding once, he sets off, navy blue coat streaming behind him and ivory cane at his side.

Malenth rose with his contact, suprised by the sudden decision. He seemed to have decided that he would recieve a yes before the fact. "I can understand the need for secrecy where sensitive matters are concerned, but in a situation like this one, the more I know about this warlord the better my ability to plan. I doubt I'd be much good to you as simple hired muscle."

Fastening his cloak and putting his hat back on, Malenth followed Reynald into the street. "With your hurry, I assume time is of the essence. Lead on then, Mr Lheureux."

[TechnOkami]

Jägerstein gives off a big grin. "Tha' sounds interestin'. Ave never had Dragon Stew before, sounds good."

The Dwarf walks over to some stairs. "Come 'ere, n' bring yer stuff. Ah can' have you sleepin' out 'ere when ah still 'ave people drinkin' down 'ere still, now can we?"

If he follows him, he'll find the Dwarf's upstairs room. It's rather nice and quaint, full of earth tones. Thankfully, it has a high ceiling, so you don't have to crouch as you walk in. The roof is a cross-thatching of branchesThe walls are lined with shelves and cabinets, which have yet to be filled with books, beer, herbs, and other tools of this Druid's trade. Streams of sunlight pour through the windows, and all of the furniture is set in place. Under the window is a long couch which doubles as a bed.

"Ya can sleep 'ere, n' use yer roll fer a blankie. Now, if ya don' mind, ave got a pub to run."

The Dwarf heads back downstairs to cater and see what shenanigans his Bear has gotten himself into.

[3SecondCultist]

Lanath

Lanath rubs the midday sun out of his eyes. Even after all these years, noon could still be a deadly time of day for a drow. Usually, his men are advised to cover up around this time. Moreover, as a commander Lanath tried to avoid engagements of any kind during these hours. The Legion had made healthy progress during the day, crossing the tributary at its shallowest point. They were entering the foothills now, the crags rising all around them. Lanath glances over his shoulder. The wagons seemed to be falling behind again. By the Underscourge, could they really not keep up? The terrain was getting harder to navigate, but that was little excuse. The urge for harsh discipline, however, is mitigated by circumstances. A good warlord expected diligence from his men, but he knew when to chastise and when to reward.
"Aumerle. Gather a team to replace today's wagoneers, and send them to me. I want them here in five minutes at most, fully armed. Tell the rest of the marching captains that the pace can be slowed down somewhat. We've made good time today, I don't want to tire them out." Climbing to the top of the nearest rise, the drow takes a sweeping survey of the valleys in which his Legion has found itself. The mountain range did not seem too much closer from this location, but Lanath knew the deception of distance well. It would only be a day or two before his company made it to Aldaris Pass. Then, they would need to prepare. As it stood, their supplies were in good condition, but it was no secret that food would be scarce up there. Furthermore, they would need to familiarize themselves with the surrounding area, in order to set traps and ambushes for the Society members that would come chasing them. Down here, all kinds of game and berries existed, a stark contrast to the wintery steppes above. Even now, Lanath could almost feel the chill in his bones. He takes a moment to breathe in the valley air before hopping down to face the group that had already assembled. The wagoneers. Himself included, the party would number at eight. Perfect.
"You all know why you are here. Now, since you have proven to be useless at directing beasts, you will be directed by them. The seven of you are to scout out the surrounding area, while hunting down supplies. I have instructed your replacements and the rest of the column to set a slower pace towards the mountains, so if you cannot find the Legion, that means you have fallen behind. Don't bother coming back before dusk, and without getting at least one clean kill." As he dismisses the now-hunters, Lanath's fingers begin to itch. There it was, the hunger for blood. In a flash, Harbinger is out of its sheath on his back and is held out in front of him. Dark, necromantic energy runs down the shaft and across the blade of the spear. It hums softly. It had been too long since he bathed his blade in blood. Lanath looks to his second-in command. He nods once, taking off after the smaller group into the underbrush.

[The Bandicoot]

Iothfrahar takes his things upstairs and lays down on the couch. After a half hour of rolling around he throws his bedroll on the ground and curls up next to Gix. A few hours later he gets up and goes downstairs I don't sleep much anymore and the couch is uncomfortable as hell. he says simply before pouring himself an ale and starting work.

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Reply from Gyork to Wilstaff:

If Gyork continues to look through his glass, he will see a a pair of specks heading toward his clan at a plodding pace. They grows closer and closer, revealing themselves to be an old, red-skinned hobgoblin, ropy muscles flexing tightly as he grips the reins of his slow-moving and similarly elderly horse with what appears to be mortal terror, and a human with a quiet air of dignity about him astride a somewhat less ancient steed. They approach the halfling camp, and the hob dismounts, bending down and kissing the ground as he does so. He then looks to his companion.

Good grief! I could feel my life flashing before my eyes every time this speed demon took a step. Why must we embrace such a hair-raising mode of travel, dear B?

The human says nothing.

Yes, I know, keeping up appearances. Still, this has to be like seventh on my list of preferred traveling methods, well below 'carried by several buxom babes'. Or even 'carried by magically animated rotting piles of flesh', for that matter.

He then remembers they are not alone, and turns with a grand sweeping gesture to face the halflings.

Greetings, tiny almost-people! I am Chief Advisor Wilstaff, and I give you a message in the name of The Boss: we surrender!

He looks over his shoulder at the human behind him.

No? That's not right? What part did I-oh, right! I'm sorry people, I meant you surrender. Yes, that's it. You surrender to us or we shall destroy you. However, if being destroyed would put a crimp in your long-term goals, we offer an alternate solution: you pay us an exorbitant wage, and in return we raze your enemies to the ground and make you a dominant force in this area. You have no less than seventeen minutes, and also five additional 'bonus time' minutes to decide. Thank you for choosing Blue Hands Inc. for all your ultimatum needs.

He then awaits their response while having a long and rather one-sided argument with his human friend about who had received the more comfortable saddle for their ride.Gyork is surprised by the sudden turn of events. From his perch in the rocks, he watches two individuals of the hobgoblin camp riding toward his camp. Just two.

"What are these two characters trying to pull?" Gyork removes a phial of water and a basin from his bag and pours the liquid in. After a few incantaions murmured under his breath, the water stills and the two slow moving members of the Hob' Clan come into view. "Better warn the camp, Tonda. We have some uninvited guests."

Tonda hurried off, disappearing around the bend. Judging by the speed the strangers were traveling, she would reach the clan before they did. Aside from the cries of unhappiness from the hobgoblin, the two weren't discussing anything that might give themselves away. He let the spell go and climbed a little higher on the rocks.

Through his spyglass he watched Tonda finish threading her way through the outcroppings. She moved quickly for one of her size, and he was pleased to see her make it to the camp ahead of the two. Grenier appeared from his tent, and walked out to meet the two, with one of his guards. Looks like they were going to try diplomacy. Surely two members of a clan were sent to make some sort of offer of alliance. Whatever the case, it took balls to walk to a potential enemies camp unsupported. He couldn't help but wonder if they had an exit strategy. He focused on the pool in front of him, and watched it ripple and then still once more. This time he focused on his Clan leader - Grenier. He was just slowing as the two opposing clans met, just outside the Halfling camp. Guards were watchful but kept thier distance.

If Gyork could describe the two Hobgoblin members, "strange" would downright be an understatement. One didn't talk at all, the other spoke in a conflicted nature. One moment he was saying that he surrendered, the next, asking Grenier TO surrender. Gyork liked this less and less. He assumed Tonda had told Grenier the size and organization of the Hobgoblin camp. If the Hobs and them battled, it would be heavy losses on both sides. The Halflings likely would not benefit, even if they did win. Easy pickings for another clan. Grenier certainly didn't look happy. Ultimatums. Gotta love em.

Grenier spoke a word of introduction to him and his personal guard, Jethos. Seeing as time was of the essence, he got straight down to business. "What kind of 'exorbitant wage' are we talking about, Wilstaff?" Grenier looked wary to Gyork, and well so. The non-assuming pair from the Hob clan provided ample threats, but they were only two. Still, the Halflings were not unfamilar with the power of the clan. After all, there used to be an orc clan in the area the Hobs were now residing. This wasn not an empty threat.

[Monodominant]

Replying as Captain Deneth Vims to Graeden and Greenwing:



Replying as Graeden to Deneth and the (HOLY CRAP WHERE DID THAT GUY COME FROM) Greenwing:



“Aye, returning,” Graeden replied, stifling a yawn. He waited for the Captain to sit and took the other available to him at the table. Deneth got the seat he’d have liked in any case - it faced the door. Graeden always liked seeing what was going on and who was coming in. He’s nosey, some might say. Curious, others might answer. Honestly, Graeden’s job was to be both. You pick up some habits when that was the case. For instance, he always cut up all his food before eating it. He never slept with the window unlocked. He put a piece of paper in the crack of his door so he’d know if it had been opened. Paranoid, maybe, but he was still alive, and it helped him sleep. “Been on the wall for a couple of years now. Used to do foot, though. That was hairier, but I kinda liked that. Take last night. We get this small band of orcs demanding entry. Wanted to get at some drow he claimed was in the city…but he likely just wanted to cause trouble or check out our defenses. They’ve been getting braver.” He sighed at that. They had the whole of The Reach, why would they need Asarenholm? Aldhaven was happy to let in orcs, it was these bands of them that were the problem. And worse, now people were profiling orcs. The Guard had more and more reports of attacks ON orcs than the other way around.

"And between you and me... there aint no avoiding paperwork... it always gets you in the end!"

“Well, I—“

And then leaning against the wall appears a green skinned dragon man. He eyed the thing warily, but it seemed the captain was unperturbed. In fact, it seems they were friends. Deneth didn’t even flinch. After introductions were made, he found that the man was from House Astrine. I thought it was another House that was affiliated with dragons…

“Graeden Leventhair,” he said, offering a hand. “That’s a neat trick you got there, mind sharing your secret?”

Deneth mentioned eating the pies while they walked, and so Graeden offered Greenwing one of his own. He didn't think he could or should finish two this late in the day. He asked Deneth if he wanted Graeden to walk with them or if to head on home.




[QUOTE=planswalker;13736595]"Oh yes, I agree with your tactics on keeping a secret so long as you are not being actively followed. However, secrecy isn't the issue at all in this case. The invisibility is just my personal taste for theatrics. You know how I love to shock and awe the rubes. We can talk while you walk."

As they take a stroll and the Captain enjoys his pies, Greenwing Drake catches him up to speed.

"Apparently last night, Edward Zane, a small-time petty thief pulled off the caper of his life. He absconded with several very valuable heirlooms from the Houses, especially the recently recovered Cup of Astrid. There is also a concern that one of the items taken was home to a powerful efreeti. If that creature is released, recovery of the items will get... complicated. Not to mention the threat the man will represent. As a marqued agent of one of the major houses, it is my prerogative to accomplish the tast set out by my leal lord by any means necessary. When I thought of allies I would need to help me in this fight, you were the first I thought of. I ask your aid in tracking down and apprehending the thief. You're the best trained investigator I know. Besides, if things do go sour, I figured you could beat out the efreeti's power through sheer crusty stubbornness if nothing else."

"Oh, and I object to being accused of being on the nobles' side. I'm not nearly so heartless. Besides, it's more like they're on my side."



The old captain gave a short nod to Graeden noting the interesting part about an orc band close to the city. That meant more reports...

He indicated that the man should follow if he wished realising how tiring he must be and wondering if he would chose to be part of these discussions but all these thoughts were quickly cast aside for the shake of the new case before him.

"Interesting. You did well to come to me not only because of my personal abilities Greenwing but also because its the right thing to do... we have had this discussion before and we both know where I stand on how marqueed agents are basically vigilantees with a crown valid permit... but crime and stopping it belongs to the Guard..." he says firmly.

"But, given that we go a long way back and that I actually like young Jana I can allow you to join in the investigations and work as a consultant... just be aware that unfortunate accidents of the thief after his capture is something I often enough investigate more than the theft itself given how I dislike people dieing in my cells... just saying so that we are clear..." he continues before mellowing out.

"So. Lets start with the basics, I dont have much to do this morning so let us take a stroll at the scene of the crime and see what exactly was stolen and how... I would assume the Houses and all their fancy private security, as they dont want us guarding them and dirtying out the place, must have had top notch stuff so before we even get there I can tell you that someone must have helped him out..."

And with that the old hound was off. His pace quickened and his posture changed from one of curious amusement to hardened determination. His feet made almost no sound on the stone bricks that comprised many of the city's newest roads. He kind of disliked those... he used to know where he was in the city just by walking with his eyes closed and letting his feet sense the land below from his thinly soled boots... but those bricks where still a new thing for him... oh well... adapt and improve...

[planswalker]

Replying as Captain Deneth Vims to Graeden and Greenwing:

The old captain gave a short nod to Graeden noting the interesting part about an orc band close to the city. That meant more reports...

He indicated that the man should follow if he wished realising how tiring he must be and wondering if he would chose to be part of these discussions but all these thoughts were quickly cast aside for the shake of the new case before him.

"Interesting. You did well to come to me not only because of my personal abilities Greenwing but also because its the right thing to do... we have had this discussion before and we both know where I stand on how marqueed agents are basically vigilantees with a crown valid permit... but crime and stopping it belongs to the Guard..." he says firmly.

"But, given that we go a long way back and that I actually like young Jana I can allow you to join in the investigations and work as a consultant... just be aware that unfortunate accidents of the thief after his capture is something I often enough investigate more than the theft itself given how I dislike people dieing in my cells... just saying so that we are clear..." he continues before mellowing out.

"So. Lets start with the basics, I dont have much to do this morning so let us take a stroll at the scene of the crime and see what exactly was stolen and how... I would assume the Houses and all their fancy private security, as they dont want us guarding them and dirtying out the place, must have had top notch stuff so before we even get there I can tell you that someone must have helped him out..."

And with that the old hound was off. His pace quickened and his posture changed from one of curious amusement to hardened determination. His feet made almost no sound on the stone bricks that comprised many of the city's newest roads. He kind of disliked those... he used to know where he was in the city just by walking with his eyes closed and letting his feet sense the land below from his thinly soled boots... but those bricks where still a new thing for him... oh well... adapt and improve...

Greenwing and Cronies

Greenwing follows the Captain to the scene. He doesn't deign to reply about who has authority or who is helping whom in this case. "Calling marqued agents sanctioned vigilantes is the most silly thing I've ever heard. Good one. If someone is officially sanctioned, then they are by definition NOT vigilantes. Your logic would paint the Guard as officially organized vigilantes. I can promise you that when Zane is lawfully executed, it won't be while being held under your authority.

As for the private security that House Licorta had guarding the palace, I personally don't trust them much either. Their loyalty was purchased, and I do not trust that."

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying to Deneth as Graeden:

Replying as Captain Deneth Vims to Graeden and Greenwing:
The old captain gave a short nod to Graeden noting the interesting part about an orc band close to the city. That meant more reports...

He indicated that the man should follow if he wished realising how tiring he must be and wondering if he would chose to be part of these discussions but all these thoughts were quickly cast aside for the shake of the new case before him.

"Interesting. You did well to come to me not only because of my personal abilities Greenwing but also because its the right thing to do... we have had this discussion before and we both know where I stand on how marqueed agents are basically vigilantees with a crown valid permit... but crime and stopping it belongs to the Guard..." he says firmly.

"But, given that we go a long way back and that I actually like young Jana I can allow you to join in the investigations and work as a consultant... just be aware that unfortunate accidents of the thief after his capture is something I often enough investigate more than the theft itself given how I dislike people dieing in my cells... just saying so that we are clear..." he continues before mellowing out.

"So. Lets start with the basics, I dont have much to do this morning so let us take a stroll at the scene of the crime and see what exactly was stolen and how... I would assume the Houses and all their fancy private security, as they dont want us guarding them and dirtying out the place, must have had top notch stuff so before we even get there I can tell you that someone must have helped him out..."

And with that the old hound was off. His pace quickened and his posture changed from one of curious amusement to hardened determination. His feet made almost no sound on the stone bricks that comprised many of the city's newest roads. He kind of disliked those... he used to know where he was in the city just by walking with his eyes closed and letting his feet sense the land below from his thinly soled boots... but those bricks where still a new thing for him... oh well... adapt and improve...

Graeden saw this as his chance to get away from anything resembling duty, being that he was off the clock. He nodded and thanked the captain for his generosity, and then headed off in the direction of his home on the edge of Midtown. He expected he would sleep quite well that night. Deneth was right. The meat pie was quite delicious. He'd have to remember the n...crap. It seems the name had already slipped through his fingers. Someday when he was less tired, he'd have to find it again. He supposed he'd only have to follow the wonderful smells.

[TheAntiplanar]

Reynald



Malenth rose with his contact, suprised by the sudden decision. He seemed to have decided that he would recieve a yes before the fact. "I can understand the need for secrecy where sensitive matters are concerned, but in a situation like this one, the more I know about this warlord the better my ability to plan. I doubt I'd be much good to you as simple hired muscle."

Fastening his cloak and putting his hat back on, Malenth followed Reynald into the street. "With your hurry, I assume time is of the essence. Lead on then, Mr Lheureux."
Their progress is fast. After all, there is little stopping the two, and Reynald is in somewhat of a hurry. As the pair speed through the Aldhaven streets, the old merchant's calm exterior begins to crack. Sweat beads down his forehead and around his lips, the product of both effort and concern. Truly, he had no idea what awaited him at Morganstern Hall. From what he had seen with the Polyae girl, things had changed in his absence. There was a sort of... sanctity before. A sense of decorum, even amongst the criminals and the schemers. He couldn't feel that, not anymore. Making sure that Malenth continued to follow, Reynald approached the doors of the Hall. He greets the doorman, who stands with his mouth open and eyes wide. Clearly, he was not expecting Reynald.
So, they have yet to tell any of the others of my return into the Aldhaven world. This should be interesting. He knows the way by heart: after all, he had been one of the planners of this very building. There was not a secret passage or ancient nook that Reynald did not know. Into the entrance hall, through the first corridor on the left and up a flight of stairs. Of course, knowing the way and walking the way differ greatly. He had often dreamed of returning home triumphant, his enemies vanquished at his feet. A hero. It wasn't supposed to be this way. As they walk, Reynald cannot help but feel countless gazes on him. Couriers stop in their tracks and clerks drop their utensils. His step quickens: there was only so much of the staring that he could take. He guides the fire mage through the entrance hall, the corridor and up the stairs. At the top of the staircase, Reynald stops. Facing the pair is a set of rather ornate double doors. The wood is beech, inlaid in silver, and the Society crest is engraved into the metal. On either side of the portal is a statue, encased in armor. Beyond was the Hall of Transcription, the chamber at the heart of Morganstern Hall. It is here that new initiates are brought to bind themselves to the Society, under the penalty of law and order. Mr. D'Everet's time was fast approaching.
"Are you ready?"

[Crafty Cultist]

Their progress is fast. After all, there is little stopping the two, and Reynald is in somewhat of a hurry. As the pair speed through the Aldhaven streets, the old merchant's calm exterior begins to crack. Sweat beads down his forehead and around his lips, the product of both effort and concern. Truly, he had no idea what awaited him at Morganstern Hall. From what he had seen with the Polyae girl, things had changed in his absence. There was a sort of... sanctity before. A sense of decorum, even amongst the criminals and the schemers. He couldn't feel that, not anymore. Making sure that Malenth continued to follow, Reynald approached the doors of the Hall. He greets the doorman, who stands with his mouth open and eyes wide. Clearly, he was not expecting Reynald.
So, they have yet to tell any of the others of my return into the Aldhaven world. This should be interesting. He knows the way by heart: after all, he had been one of the planners of this very building. There was not a secret passage or ancient nook that Reynald did not know. Into the entrance hall, through the first corridor on the left and up a flight of stairs. Of course, knowing the way and walking the way differ greatly. He had often dreamed of returning home triumphant, his enemies vanquished at his feet. A hero. It wasn't supposed to be this way. As they walk, Reynald cannot help but feel countless gazes on him. Couriers stop in their tracks and clerks drop their utensils. His step quickens: there was only so much of the staring that he could take. He guides the fire mage through the entrance hall, the corridor and up the stairs. At the top of the staircase, Reynald stops. Facing the pair is a set of rather ornate double doors. The wood is beech, inlaid in silver, and the Society crest is engraved into the metal. On either side of the portal is a statue, encased in armor. Beyond was the Hall of Transcription, the chamber at the heart of Morganstern Hall. It is here that new initiates are brought to bind themselves to the Society, under the penalty of law and order. Mr. D'Everet's time was fast approaching.
"Are you ready?"

Malenth kept pace with the old banker as he raced through the city. It would seem that the situation was more urgent than he thought. While his daily sword drills kept him in better shape than Reynald, Malenth did not have the stamina for long distance running, and soon began sweating and panting alongside his contact.

As the pair approached Morganstern hall, Malenth slowed his pace slightly in order to catch his breath. As he followed Reynald through the building, he made sure his hair and clothing were still presentable, all the while taking note of the architecture, layout, and general environment of the building.

Coming to a stop before a pair of massive double doors, Malenth straightens his hat. "Mr Lheureux, I was ready from the moment I walked into the Saphire Swan."

[TheAntiplanar]

Reynald



Malenth kept pace with the old banker as he raced through the city. It would seem that the situation was more urgent than he thought. While his daily sword drills kept him in better shape than Reynald, Malenth did not have the stamina for long distance running, and soon began sweating and panting alongside his contact.

As the pair approached Morganstern hall, Malenth slowed his pace slightly in order to catch his breath. As he followed Reynald through the building, he made sure his hair and clothing were still presentable, all the while taking note of the architecture, layout, and general environment of the building.

Coming to a stop before a pair of massive double doors, Malenth straightens his hat. "Mr Lheureux, I was ready from the moment I walked into the Saphire Swan."
"Good. Prepare yourself." The banker moves the mage aside, taking a place directly opposite the doors, in the center of the antechamber. He closes his eyes, and speaks two simple words.
"Solium lovis." In the split silence that follows, Reynald's eyes snap open, a brilliant blue. It is broken by the grinding of stone on steel, as the two golems awaken. They take hold of the doors, pushing them open wide and opening the passage into the chamber beyond. The space is quite sizable for a building such as the Morganstern Hall, an oval construction that spans several stories below them and into darkness above. Six immense pillars span the gap between sky and earth. Ahead, a staircase descends downward. The entire chamber gleams as if buffed to perfection. However, Reynald can almost feel the age in the place, despite the date of construction being only a decade before. He takes a deep breath, inhaling the dust accrued by years of invention.
"Welcome to the Hall of Transcription. You are one of hundreds of initiates to walk these steps. Follow me please, Mr. D'Everet. Just a little bit farther now." He begins to walk downwards, towards what looks like a slab made of light in the center of the chamber. As they get closer, the slab begins to glow with a golden hue, burnished motes swirling around the pair. Halfway there, Reynald stops. He holds out his arm, gesturing forward towards the center.
"I can go no further. Approach the basin, speak your full name, and touch the altar. Then, you have to repeat these words: After fortune, wealth. After plenty, harvest. After death, opportunity. This creed is at the heart of the Morganstern Society, and the altar will tell if you are worthy of embodying it. This is a ritual that is at least as old as the Society, so it goes without saying that you will show respect. I will be waiting at the entrance." His part done for now, Reynald begins to walk back up the stairs, leaving Malenth alone.

[Crafty Cultist]

Malenth


"Good. Prepare yourself." The banker moves the mage aside, taking a place directly opposite the doors, in the center of the antechamber. He closes his eyes, and speaks two simple words.
"Solium lovis." In the split silence that follows, Reynald's eyes snap open, a brilliant blue. It is broken by the grinding of stone on steel, as the two golems awaken. They take hold of the doors, pushing them open wide and opening the passage into the chamber beyond. The space is quite sizable for a building such as the Morganstern Hall, an oval construction that spans several stories below them and into darkness above. Six immense pillars span the gap between sky and earth. Ahead, a staircase descends downward. The entire chamber gleams as if buffed to perfection. However, Reynald can almost feel the age in the place, despite the date of construction being only a decade before. He takes a deep breath, inhaling the dust accrued by years of invention.
"Welcome to the Hall of Transcription. You are one of hundreds of initiates to walk these steps. Follow me please, Mr. D'Everet. Just a little bit farther now." He begins to walk downwards, towards what looks like a slab made of light in the center of the chamber. As they get closer, the slab begins to glow with a golden hue, burnished motes swirling around the pair. Halfway there, Reynald stops. He holds out his arm, gesturing forward towards the center.
"I can go no further. Approach the basin, speak your full name, and touch the altar. Then, you have to repeat these words: After fortune, wealth. After plenty, harvest. After death, opportunity. This creed is at the heart of the Morganstern Society, and the altar will tell if you are worthy of embodying it. This is a ritual that is at least as old as the Society, so it goes without saying that you will show respect. I will be waiting at the entrance." His part done for now, Reynald begins to walk back up the stairs, leaving Malenth alone.

Malenth smiles to himself, making sure to take in the whole room. After using his magic to search the room for auras, he closed his eyes in though.

OOC:I'm assuming there is some kind of magic here, though it is to complex to figure out anything beyond the basics

This place reeks of magic. Most likely a method of dealing with the unworthy or unloyal. What fate awaits those who fail? Will the ritual bind me to the society? What kind of tricks could they have placed in this ritual?

Malenth opened his eyes, and they burned with determination. All worries pushed aside, he strode forward with certainty.

Reaching the basin, he spoke with all the conviction he could muster. "I am Malenth D'Everet, Head of the noble D'Everet house and the man who will restore it to greatness!"

Slamming his hand down on the Altar, Malenth D'Everet stared straight ahead and continued. "After fortune, Wealth! After plenty, Harvest! After death, Opportunity!"

The oath complete, Malenth stood proudly in silence. And after hardship, strength.

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as Kiley to Adeak:

Replying as Adeak to Kiley
"Heh, I'm out for a new job, and some quick coin. I'm up for about anything you can lead me to."
“Anything, huh? Oh I know a job that’s…ahem…new, to you at least. And it certainly has quick coin,” she said flirtatiously. “But judging for your ever lack of enthusiasm in my line of work…that idea would likely be turned down.” She eyed him up and down. “Such a pity,” she said wistfully. She began walking toward a stairwell the two had used often enough in other such meetings of information. “I may have something you may be interested in, however,” she called back. Kiley looked coyly over her shoulder to make sure Adeak was coming, and then began to move up the steps.

Replying as DM to Erinde

Erinde jotted down the item recovery and Licourta jobs before heading to the Noble District. She didn't have many clients among the "high-society", and had to ask directions, but she found her way to the listed address for the item recovery.

As Erinde walks through the streets of the Oldtown District, she’ll notice the buildings get taller and nicer as she gets closer to the noble district. Many of these buildings are residential, some with workshops underneath. A blacksmith, a glassblower, a fletcher; all these shops look to be more for decorative work than the for normal wear and tear work. The swords were chased with gold and silver, with intricate patterns on both hilts and blades alike. The glass was in ornate and sometimes impractical shapes, or sculpted to look like an animal or object. The Fletcher had bows that were carved and painted in beautiful patterns that likely would be damaged in regular use, with strings so fine, it almost appeared to be a spiders webbing.

When she gets to the noble district, Erinde is stopped at the gated entry. There appears to be a wall that continues along to either side, likely encompassing the entire district. A guard stops her at the gate. “Identification, please,” he says with all the air of suspicion. Erinde did not appear to be the normal type to be passing through his gate. “State your business.”
((Identification is a normal thing, since the magic registry act. It will tell him your name, whether you can cast magic, and what your district is. Everyone is required to carry them on their person, but some do not, and others have fake ones, despite the difficulty to replicate the seal.))

Replying as Arlar to Zhin:

Zhin waits for a few minutes, impatiently expecting the people of the market to bow, or at least do the failing salute that the guard did. Not even one... apparently warriors carried much less respect here, and now.

Even worse, not a soul spoke up about magic. Apparently, communication was VERY different from his hometown. Despite the unbearable din of the crowd, few people were yelling, bellowing, or screaming.. it was sort of orderly, actually. Each stall was separate from the next, had its own purpose... Strange, but useful. If he could find one for magic, then, presumably, it would be able to help him, or at least command a minor spirit for his aid.

Spirits. Bah. Idiot slaves, to be trapped and contained, hedged, tied, hindered, destroyed. If he could get his hands on one... well, there was the problem, right there. He had heard something about a robbery from the guard, but not much. Still, a powerful and evil spirit trapped in a bracelet could only give him more power, even if it wasn't the one he wanted.

Each step carried him closer to his goal -or, conversely, farther. Either way, he was going to something, and, eventually, he'd find someone to help. For now, Zhin turned his massive frame towards an enclosed shop, and stepped through the door without regard to the ceiling.

After brushing off some of his shoulder spines and removing chunks of wood from his head, Zhin turned to the shopkeeper of "Arlar's Arcana," some sort of gaudy magic dealer.

"I seek magical spells to be cast. For eternity. Do you, keeper, know of one who could wield them?"


Permanence is level 5, Speak Tongues is 3 if I remember correctly.


Arlar was quite alarmed at the entrance of the spiked hulk that entered his establishment. “ACK!” He proclaimed. He also groaned for good measure as the preposterous pincushion managed to splinter the door frame. He could see the door waving lopsidedly behind the brigand. “You better have something to pay for that with!” he cried out in anguish as the thing wiped splinters from its shoulders.

"I seek magical spells to be cast. For eternity. Do you, keeper, know of one who could wield them?"

“Yeah, and I seek customers that don’t begin negotiations with property destruction. We can’t all have everything. That will be 25 Gold for the door. Then we’ll talk sales.” Arlar closed his hand around a small wand his grandfather had given him. It likely had only a few fireballs left. He waited for the thing’s response, eyeing him distrustfully.

Replying as Sergeant Irena Bruger to Captain Deneth and Chief Advisor Greenwing of House Astrine

Replying as Captain Deneth Vims to Graeden and Greenwing:

The old captain gave a short nod to Graeden noting the interesting part about an orc band close to the city. That meant more reports...

He indicated that the man should follow if he wished realising how tiring he must be and wondering if he would chose to be part of these discussions but all these thoughts were quickly cast aside for the shake of the new case before him.

"Interesting. You did well to come to me not only because of my personal abilities Greenwing but also because its the right thing to do... we have had this discussion before and we both know where I stand on how marqueed agents are basically vigilantees with a crown valid permit... but crime and stopping it belongs to the Guard..." he says firmly.

"But, given that we go a long way back and that I actually like young Jana I can allow you to join in the investigations and work as a consultant... just be aware that unfortunate accidents of the thief after his capture is something I often enough investigate more than the theft itself given how I dislike people dieing in my cells... just saying so that we are clear..." he continues before mellowing out.

"So. Lets start with the basics, I dont have much to do this morning so let us take a stroll at the scene of the crime and see what exactly was stolen and how... I would assume the Houses and all their fancy private security, as they dont want us guarding them and dirtying out the place, must have had top notch stuff so before we even get there I can tell you that someone must have helped him out..."

And with that the old hound was off. His pace quickened and his posture changed from one of curious amusement to hardened determination. His feet made almost no sound on the stone bricks that comprised many of the city's newest roads. He kind of disliked those... he used to know where he was in the city just by walking with his eyes closed and letting his feet sense the land below from his thinly soled boots... but those bricks where still a new thing for him... oh well... adapt and improve...

Greenwing and Cronies

Greenwing follows the Captain to the scene. He doesn't deign to reply about who has authority or who is helping whom in this case. "Calling marqued agents sanctioned vigilantes is the most silly thing I've ever heard. Good one. If someone is officially sanctioned, then they are by definition NOT vigilantes. Your logic would paint the Guard as officially organized vigilantes. I can promise you that when Zane is lawfully executed, it won't be while being held under your authority.

As for the private security that House Licorta had guarding the palace, I personally don't trust them much either. Their loyalty was purchased, and I do not trust that."

Irena had had a late night, and was pretty irritable. She’d already snapped at one of the Guardsmen working under her when he asked a question she didn’t have the answer to, and to others for asking questions that didn’t need to be answered. She surveyed the area. Four good men dead. What a waste. She clenched her fists as she paced around the scene, trying to find anything that she missed.

“WHERE’S THAT LIST OF PEOPLE THAT CAME INTO THE DISTRICT IN THE LAST DAY!?” she shouted to no one in particular. She looked around, and instead of finding a soldier coming toward her with said list, instead she saw two individuals she certainly recognized walking toward her at a swift pace. Wonderful.

“Welcome to ground Zero, Deneth,” she said in exasperation. “We have four dead guards, seven missing items, five houses in uproar, and zero leads as to what actually happened. Only thing I know is they had help. The escape was too clean. Someone would have seen the thief leave the district, but none of the guard…that’s alive…has seen anything.”

Replying to Malenth as the "Thing that Reeks of Magic":


Malenth smiles to himself, making sure to take in the whole room. After using his magic to search the room for auras, he closed his eyes in though.

This place reeks of magic. Most likely a method of dealing with the unworthy or unloyal. What fate awaits those who fail? Will the ritual bind me to the society? What kind of tricks could they have placed in this ritual?

Malenth opened his eyes, and they burned with determination. All worries pushed aside, he strode forward with certainty.

Reaching the basin, he spoke with all the conviction he could muster. "I am Malenth D'Everet, Head of the noble D'Everet house and the man who will restore it to greatness!"

Slamming his hand down on the Altar, Malenth D'Everet stared straight ahead and continued. "After fortune, Wealth! After plenty, Harvest! After death, Opportunity!"

The oath complete, Malenth stood proudly in silence. And after hardship, strength.
As soon as the oath was spoken, the feel of the room changed completely. What was once a quiet glow of power now became a brilliant force that rushed out of the basin like a fountain. The dank air began to rush around is a circular pattern, causing Malenth’s clothes to flap and hair to stir.

He believes, thought the spirit.

The aura of the spirit was a twisting flowing tendril of lines, dancing around in arcs and swirls in front of Malenth. It appeared to be excited. Playful. Happy.

The aura began to glow, first a deep red. The red was the color of a ripe apple, a fading sunset, and the color of newly shed blood. It pulsed and twisted, and from somewhere, the sound of a child laughing came.

Then the red began to fade and the aura burst into a brilliant green. It was hard to determine if it was a pale green like the sea’s foam, or the rich green from a nourished forest. The wind began to rush around Malenth, and the spirit began to circle the human twisting up and down his figure. The air around Malenth then turned warm. The feeling was like the sun suddenly washing over a person who was laying in the shade.

Last, the color changed to a rich gold, almost too bright to look at. It was mixed with yellow of marigolds, and the blond hair of a child. The aura passed through Malenth, embracing him from behind and exiting through his chest. It left a residual feeling of mixed emotions, and of fullness: The joy of a task completed, the quickening of the heart after seeing one that awakens desire, the longing of something distant, the heartbreak of loss, the anger of betrayal and calm of simple understanding.

Malenth would never be the same.

[planswalker]

Replying as Sergeant Irena Bruger to Captain Deneth and Chief Advisor Greenwing of House Astrine



Irena had had a late night, and was pretty irritable. She’d already snapped at one of the Guardsmen working under her when he asked a question she didn’t have the answer to, and to others for asking questions that didn’t need to be answered. She surveyed the area. Four good men dead. What a waste. She clenched her fists as she paced around the scene, trying to find anything that she missed.

“WHERE’S THAT LIST OF PEOPLE THAT CAME INTO THE DISTRICT IN THE LAST DAY!?” she shouted to no one in particular. She looked around, and instead of finding a soldier coming toward her with said list, instead she saw two individuals she certainly recognized walking toward her at a swift pace. Wonderful.

“Welcome to ground Zero, Deneth,” she said in exasperation. “We have four dead guards, seven missing items, five houses in uproar, and zero leads as to what actually happened. Only thing I know is they had help. The escape was too clean. Someone would have seen the thief leave the district, but none of the guard…that’s alive…has seen anything.”

Greenwing Drake, et al

With yet another person pointing at an inside job as the means, Greenwing says to Deneth, "Wow, what's this, someone in the guard betrayed the nobility? And you wonder why they keep marqued agents on hand."

When the bedraggled sergeant takes a breath, he quips in with, "Why, hello to you too, Irena. Glad to see you remember all the good times we've had together. Anyways, I'm here now so I'm sure it won't be too long before the thief is hanging at high noon. After all, it takes a marqued agent to catch a theif."

[Crafty Cultist]

Malenth closed his eyes as the magic washed over him. He tried to get a feel for the energy, and work out what it was trying to do, but this seemed different from any magic he had encountered before. Malenth soon stopped analysing and simply let the magic wash over him.

When the power waned, Malenth opened his eyes and grinned, striding confidently toward the exit. Upon seeing Reynald, he speaks without slowing his pace.

"It would seem I have completed your ritual successfully. Since time is of the essence, we should walk and talk, since I assume there is somewhere we need to be. Are you able to answer my questions about this operation, or will that have to wait until we're away from prying eyes and ears?"

[SamBurke]

Zhin looks at the man questioningly, weighing the options. Clearly he was of higher importance than many. "I apologize, your grace." Bowing deeply, he rummages underneath his shoulder plate and pulls out a small chunk of unrefined gold. "I presume that this is enough for damages, and perhaps to begin discussion of arcana?" He tries a diplomatic smile, and bows.

Hm. Perhaps those of this new age do not appreciate the impact of the bow? The complete defenselessness of anyone offering such a powerful gesture of trust? This is quite an unwary age...

Standing again, he leaves the oblong chunk of shining metal alone on the counter, as if to be the only necessary thing said. "What, now, do we need to speak of?"

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as Irena Bruger to Greenwing Drake

Greenwing Drake, et al

With yet another person pointing at an inside job as the means, Greenwing says to Deneth, "Wow, what's this, someone in the guard betrayed the nobility? And you wonder why they keep marqued agents on hand."

When the bedraggled sergeant takes a breath, he quips in with, "Why, hello to you too, Irena. Glad to see you remember all the good times we've had together. Anyways, I'm here now so I'm sure it won't be too long before the thief is hanging at high noon. After all, it takes a marqued agent to catch a theif."
Irena almost rolled her eyes. She’d turned away several representatives from the houses involved already, so keeping Greenwing would be trouble. However, he had proved his merit in the past, and that was a fact she couldn’t ignore. Green had certainly gotten to the root of the problem, no matter his bluntness. In fact, she liked blunt, so long as it was placed correctly.

“Alright Greenwing, you can stay and do your own investigation.” It wasn’t like she’d be able to stop him. If she turned him away now, he’d just find some way to maneuver around her, and likely by his disappearing act he always did. She'd rather have him working with her. Speaking of disappearing. “Though, I’ve already turned down the help of other houses in the investigation…do you mind if you do that…disappearing thing? I have enough of a headache as it is without it looking like I’m favoring a house.”


Replying as Arlar to Zhin:

Zhin looks at the man questioningly, weighing the options. Clearly he was of higher importance than many. "I apologize, your grace." Bowing deeply, he rummages underneath his shoulder plate and pulls out a small chunk of unrefined gold. "I presume that this is enough for damages, and perhaps to begin discussion of arcana?" He tries a diplomatic smile, and bows.

Hm. Perhaps those of this new age do not appreciate the impact of the bow? The complete defenselessness of anyone offering such a powerful gesture of trust? This is quite an unwary age...

Standing again, he leaves the oblong chunk of shining metal alone on the counter, as if to be the only necessary thing said. "What, now, do we need to speak of?"
It seemed Arlar underestimated the situation at hand. Property damage in the morning might have put him in a bad mood, but then a gold nugget appeared on his counter. Nothing got Arlar in a good mood like gold did. The thing made something of a bow, and had called him ‘your grace’. A little rough around the edges, but it seemed the two would get along very nicely.

“Ah, you seek a permanency spell? What spell do you need to last? A light spell perhaps? Disguise? Really I generally deal in already existing magical items, so I might indeed have what you need. But if I don’t, I have a friend who can make magical items. A little hard to find, however.”

[planswalker]

Replying as Irena Bruger to Greenwing Drake

Irena almost rolled her eyes. She’d turned away several representatives from the houses involved already, so keeping Greenwing would be trouble. However, he had proved his merit in the past, and that was a fact she couldn’t ignore. Green had certainly gotten to the root of the problem, no matter his bluntness. In fact, she liked blunt, so long as it was placed correctly.

“Alright Greenwing, you can stay and do your own investigation.” It wasn’t like she’d be able to stop him. If she turned him away now, he’d just find some way to maneuver around her, and likely by his disappearing act he always did. She'd rather have him working with her. Speaking of disappearing. “Though, I’ve already turned down the help of other houses in the investigation…do you mind if you do that…disappearing thing? I have enough of a headache as it is without it looking like I’m favoring a house.”

Greeenwing Drake

"So kind of you to let me play with you. After all, it would have been really embarrassing if I'd gone over your head to myself and have to pull rank as a marqued agent whose purview this falls into as a crime against my House. You must have been really scary, though, if you managed to get the other four agents whom I am sure have already been here to back off. Good for you. Marqued agents are such tools."

[TheAntiplanar]

Malenth closed his eyes as the magic washed over him. He tried to get a feel for the energy, and work out what it was trying to do, but this seemed different from any magic he had encountered before. Malenth soon stopped analysing and simply let the magic wash over him.

When the power waned, Malenth opened his eyes and grinned, striding confidently toward the exit. Upon seeing Reynald, he speaks without slowing his pace.

"It would seem I have completed your ritual successfully. Since time is of the essence, we should walk and talk, since I assume there is somewhere we need to be. Are you able to answer my questions about this operation, or will that have to wait until we're away from prying eyes and ears?"
"Yes." While Reynald smiles inwardly at the mathematician's answer, he does realize that Malenth will need to be informed about the situation at hand. All would be divulged eventually. The banker does not have time to think, however, as a distant voice rings in his ears.
Sir, I've got the other guy in the entrance hall. He says his name is Zardek. Seems a mite jumpy, so any time you want to meet us would be great.
On my way. Where is your brother?
I'm out by the East Gate. Apparently, Orcbane took Alderan due east, out towards the mountains. I've found someone to sell us horses, rations and equipment.
Good. We will meet you there. He seems to be following the fire mage now. Reynald makes his way up the steps quickly, stopping Malenth before he can make it through the double doors. He rests his hand on the younger man's shoulder.
"Listen. I know you have questions, and I have some of the answers. Just be patient, though. Once we leave the city, I will tell you everything I know. I don't trust this place anymore." As the words leave his lips, Reynald realizes how true they have become. What had happened to the Society that he had built, the guild that promoted brotherhood and rewarded ambition? It had been replaced by an oppressive regime that catered to the sycophants and the nobles. The realization saddens him, but there is no shock in it. He takes a moment to reflect. What had gone wrong? At what exact point had the Board stopped guiding the Society's policy and begin to dictate it? Even the veil of secrecy that protected the most senior members was all but gone - anyone with half a brain could pick out the Board members in a crowd. Reynald bows his head. staring at the buffed stone floor. He remains like that for less than a minute, gathering his composure for the walk back outside. Thankfully, they would be out of Aldhaven soon.
"Alright, let's go." The walk back into the entrance hall is brief. There, among the couriers and paper pushers, stood two figures. Kirin sees him first, her eyes brightening noticeably. He would have to do something about that. Reynald was much more interested in the other figure, however. 'Zardek' seemed... average. Dark hair, dark eyes, and fair skin, he seemed the typical middle class man. His clothing was loose, but practical. He wore boots and a short cloak, all part of the stock adventurer's gear. At least he knew what was appropriate for an expedition. One other thing catches Reynald's eye, though: a bracelet that the man wears on his right arm. The gleaming piece of jewelry seemed out of place among the Zardek's other clothing. He approaches the man, offering his hand in greeting.
"Good afternoon. My name is Reynald Lheureux, and this is Lord Malenth D'Everet. I will be heading this mission, and he will be acting in a support capacity. You have already met Kirin. Come, walk with us. We have a long road ahead, and need to make up for lost time!"

[Vesth]

"Yes." While Reynald smiles inwardly at the mathematician's answer, he does realize that Malenth will need to be informed about the situation at hand. All would be divulged eventually. The banker does not have time to think, however, as a distant voice rings in his ears.
Sir, I've got the other guy in the entrance hall. He says his name is Zardek. Seems a mite jumpy, so any time you want to meet us would be great.
On my way. Where is your brother?
I'm out by the East Gate. Apparently, Orcbane took Alderan due east, out towards the mountains. I've found someone to sell us horses, rations and equipment.
Good. We will meet you there. He seems to be following the fire mage now. Reynald makes his way up the steps quickly, stopping Malenth before he can make it through the double doors. He rests his hand on the younger man's shoulder.
"Listen. I know you have questions, and I have some of the answers. Just be patient, though. Once we leave the city, I will tell you everything I know. I don't trust this place anymore." As the words leave his lips, Reynald realizes how true they have become. What had happened to the Society that he had built, the guild that promoted brotherhood and rewarded ambition? It had been replaced by an oppressive regime that catered to the sycophants and the nobles. The realization saddens him, but there is no shock in it. He takes a moment to reflect. What had gone wrong? At what exact point had the Board stopped guiding the Society's policy and begin to dictate it? Even the veil of secrecy that protected the most senior members was all but gone - anyone with half a brain could pick out the Board members in a crowd. Reynald bows his head. staring at the buffed stone floor. He remains like that for less than a minute, gathering his composure for the walk back outside. Thankfully, they would be out of Aldhaven soon.
"Alright, let's go." The walk back into the entrance hall is brief. There, among the couriers and paper pushers, stood two figures. Kirin sees him first, her eyes brightening noticeably. He would have to do something about that. Reynald was much more interested in the other figure, however. 'Zardek' seemed... average. Dark hair, dark eyes, and fair skin, he seemed the typical middle class man. His clothing was loose, but practical. He wore boots and a short cloak, all part of the stock adventurer's gear. At least he knew what was appropriate for an expedition. One other thing catches Reynald's eye, though: a bracelet that the man wears on his right arm. The gleaming piece of jewelry seemed out of place among the Zardek's other clothing. He approaches the man, offering his hand in greeting.
"Good afternoon. My name is Reynald Lheureux, and this is Lord Malenth D'Everet. I will be heading this mission, and he will be acting in a support capacity. You have already met Kirin. Come, walk with us. We have a long road ahead, and need to make up for lost time!"

A single stomp shakes the entire landscape, cracking open the baked earth into two, and the Efreeti grinned as Djinn and the like screamed and flailed as they ran away from the godly being. Another Efreeti growed and charged, but KimZahn raised a hand, and the resulting explosion resulted in a multilated corpse. He grinned at turned to the heavens and roared in laughter. He would be king, he would rule this place forever! He would not bow down to-

He groaned. On hindsight, doing that was probably pushing his luck. Looking from his prison, he peers as the chains that bind it so; they were worn and old, but so was it; a shadow of his former self. He doubt he could kill an Efreeti right now- heck, even fighting a lowly Djinn would be diffcult. How the have fallen, and he was furious about it. When he got out, he would raze the place to the ground, let it repopulate, and raze it again.

The bracelet glows slightly in arcane symbols as he tests the limits of his prison once again. Not long now. Not long at all.

His wielder is a man named Zane, that much he could tell. Maybe he'll be a simpleton and help him achieve his goal of many decades.

"Please...save me..." he said in Zane's mind, magically altering his voice to sound like a desperate, sexy lady. Nothing like a maiden in distress to have control over mortal men.

Suckers.

[TheAntiplanar]

Zane

A single stomp shakes the entire landscape, cracking open the baked earth into two, and the Efreeti grinned as Djinn and the like screamed and flailed as they ran away from the godly being. Another Efreeti growed and charged, but KimZahn raised a hand, and the resulting explosion resulted in a multilated corpse. He grinned at turned to the heavens and roared in laughter. He would be king, he would rule this place forever! He would not now down to-

He groaned. On hindsight, doing that was probably pushing his luck. Looking from his prison, he peers as the chains that bind it so; they were worn and old, but so was it; a shadow of his former self. He doubt he could kill an Efreeti right now- heck, even fighting a lowly Djinn would be diffcult. How the have fallen, and he was furious about it. When he got out, he would raze the place to the ground, let it repopulate, and raze it again.

The bracelet glows slightly in arcane symbols as he tests the limits of his prison once again. Not long now. Not long at all.

His wielder is a man named Zane, that much he could tell. Maybe he'll be a simpleton and help him achieve his goal of many decades.

"Please...save me..." he said in Zane's mind, magically altering his voice to sound like a desperate, sexy lady. Nothing like a maiden in distress to have control over mortal men.

Suckers.
Edward Zane had been having a strange day. The rush of the crime, breaking into the Astrine vaults, and making away largely unscathed comprised one of the most eventful nights of his shining career. Glorious. The four casualties he chalked up to bad luck: the guardsmen involved should never had had the misfortune of meeting him on a dark night. He chuckles softly to himself. He had found a safe house, where he had stored the majority of the loot. Zane remembers the last coherent image from the previous night: sleeping next to a small pile of priceless artifacts, gold and precious gems.

The euphoria couldn't last, of course. He woke up in the morning with a heavy head and the imminent realization that House Astrine would already be mobilizing forces for the loot's recovery. After all, one did not simply get away with a heist like that. It was only afterward, when he was trawling the taverns near the North Market (in disguise, of course), that he realized the magnitude of the scenario that he had found himself in. Apparently, a large guard investigation was already underway. Seeing no other immediate options, Edward Zane turned to the people who were known for helping thieves and outlaws: the Painters Guild. Contacting them had been easy, but their price was high. In return for stashing nearly everything that he had stolen and paying off the right officials, they had assigned him a job: infiltrate a Society mission by posing as a mercenary adventurer.

So there he was, standing in Morganstern Hall. The woman who picked him was, in a phrase, drop dead gorgeous. Really. She looked like she knew how to use those swords under her cloak, and by the way she kept eying him and the lordling over there, she planned on using them soon. She hadn't given him any real details on the way over, only that it was a rescue op, and likely to be extremely dangerous. The last man to greet him, however, seemed very different from the thug. His hands were soft, for one. A paper-pusher no doubt, someone who wasn't accustomed to manual labor. On top of that, he looked older, more worn somehow. The man's blue-grey eyes, on the other hand, were keen and bored right back into Zane's own hazel ones. The old man extends a hand.
"Good afternoon. My name is Reynald Lheureux, and this is Lord Malenth D'Everet. I will be heading this mission, and he will be acting in a support capacity. You have already met Kirin. Come, walk with us. We have a long road ahead, and need to make up for lost time!" Following the Society agents, Zane adopts the stride of an adventurer: confident, but not a strut. There was a presence that came with being one of the great trailblazers. A sense of physical purpose. Yes, that was it. He channeled that theme into his movements. For this mission, the Painters had told him to be Zardek, so that was who he was becoming.
"So, where are we going? Kirin over there said that this was a rescue. Who are we rescuing, exactly?"
"Patience. Like I told Malenth over here, I will divulge more information as to our task once we are free of Aldhaven. Come on now, keep up Zardek! We have an agent waiting on us at the East Gate."
Great. I can already tell that working with you is going to be a -
Please... save me... The voice is soft, feminine. But where in the Nine Hells did it come from? No one else seemed to have heard it. Whatever it was, it sounded... sad. There was also a sultry tone beneath the sorrow, the promise of reward. Zane finds himself fascinated by the voice already. He calls out within his own subconscious, on the same level that he heard the emanation.
Hello? Who are you?

[Crafty Cultist]

Malenth



"Yes." While Reynald smiles inwardly at the mathematician's answer, he does realize that Malenth will need to be informed about the situation at hand. All would be divulged eventually. The banker does not have time to think, however, as a distant voice rings in his ears.
Sir, I've got the other guy in the entrance hall. He says his name is Zardek. Seems a mite jumpy, so any time you want to meet us would be great.
On my way. Where is your brother?
I'm out by the East Gate. Apparently, Orcbane took Alderan due east, out towards the mountains. I've found someone to sell us horses, rations and equipment.
Good. We will meet you there. He seems to be following the fire mage now. Reynald makes his way up the steps quickly, stopping Malenth before he can make it through the double doors. He rests his hand on the younger man's shoulder.
"Listen. I know you have questions, and I have some of the answers. Just be patient, though. Once we leave the city, I will tell you everything I know. I don't trust this place anymore." As the words leave his lips, Reynald realizes how true they have become. What had happened to the Society that he had built, the guild that promoted brotherhood and rewarded ambition? It had been replaced by an oppressive regime that catered to the sycophants and the nobles. The realization saddens him, but there is no shock in it. He takes a moment to reflect. What had gone wrong? At what exact point had the Board stopped guiding the Society's policy and begin to dictate it? Even the veil of secrecy that protected the most senior members was all but gone - anyone with half a brain could pick out the Board members in a crowd. Reynald bows his head. staring at the buffed stone floor. He remains like that for less than a minute, gathering his composure for the walk back outside. Thankfully, they would be out of Aldhaven soon.
"Alright, let's go." The walk back into the entrance hall is brief. There, among the couriers and paper pushers, stood two figures. Kirin sees him first, her eyes brightening noticeably. He would have to do something about that. Reynald was much more interested in the other figure, however. 'Zardek' seemed... average. Dark hair, dark eyes, and fair skin, he seemed the typical middle class man. His clothing was loose, but practical. He wore boots and a short cloak, all part of the stock adventurer's gear. At least he knew what was appropriate for an expedition. One other thing catches Reynald's eye, though: a bracelet that the man wears on his right arm. The gleaming piece of jewelry seemed out of place among the Zardek's other clothing. He approaches the man, offering his hand in greeting.
"Good afternoon. My name is Reynald Lheureux, and this is Lord Malenth D'Everet. I will be heading this mission, and he will be acting in a support capacity. You have already met Kirin. Come, walk with us. We have a long road ahead, and need to make up for lost time!"

Malenth's mind raced as he followed his new senior. Troubles and divisions made for greater risks, but also greater opportunities. For now, focusing on the current situation seemed more productive than simply speculation. Given that they were dealing with a large force on the move, an ambush seemed like a suitable course of action. Hopefully there would be a location where the terrain was to their advantage.

For now, he kept his head down and listened to the others. Better to learn than teach in situations like this.

[3SecondCultist]

Lanath
The wolf whimpers as it dies, throat pierced by Lanath's spear. The drow can feel the last of the beast's vitality flow into him through the wound, the exertions of the hunt fading away. He looks down at his hand for a moment. It had already fully healed, dark skin re-knitting over the stitches from only several hours ago. The breath that passes over Lanath's lips begins as just that - an expression of effort. But as he allows the glory of the kill to fill him up, to consume his very being, the breath grows until peals of harsh musical laughter echo off the sides of the valley. Once again, his body had proven to be simply superior to anything from the surface world. Lanath begins to picture the landscape under the reign of the Underscourge. Would that plant several feet away from him, that loathfully mundane piece of fauna, soon drip with luxurious poison? Yes, it would start at the roots. Eventually, the magnificence of Nasus would work its way up the stem, choking the life out of the greenery and replacing it with a menagerie of violent color. Next, the rocks themselves, bones of the earth, would rise up like teeth to crush the great places of the world. Finally, there would be the soil. Such storms would arise as had never been seen, set in motion to scour the surface of most living beings. His people would of course be sheltered from the worst of the changes. Nasendel was safe, as it had always been. The drow would gather there, marshaling an army to lead against the surface in the wake of the desolation. It would be almost too easy. Lanath's laughter is long gone now, a thoughtful expression instead occupying his face. It remains as he trusses up the corpse of the beast and hauls it onto his back. He sets out in a vaguely eastward direction, trying to intuit the next twist or turn before he comes to it. His pace is quick, his step balanced. Even amongst the drow, Lanath was considered an optimal physical specimen. After all, he dwarfed most men at 6'5, and his body was that of a warrior hardened by years of battle and training. Of course, Lanath tries not to pay attention to vain trivia. It didn't really matter how tall he was, as long as he got the job done. The amount of pleasure garnered while fulfilling the job was also his prerogative. Soon, Lanath is able to spot the large grey line in the distance that signifies the Legion. They were just about climbing now, the slope steadily increasing under their feet. By nightfall, they would be nearly at the mouth of the pass. He meant to be there when they did.
Hold on, my brothers and sisters. Your liege is on his way.

[Vesth]

KimZahn


Edward Zane had been having a strange day. The rush of the crime, breaking into the Astrine vaults, and making away largely unscathed comprised one of the most eventful nights of his shining career. Glorious. The four casualties he chalked up to bad luck: the guardsmen involved should never had had the misfortune of meeting him on a dark night. He chuckles softly to himself. He had found a safe house, where he had stored the majority of the loot. Zane remembers the last coherent image from the previous night: sleeping next to a small pile of priceless artifacts, gold and precious gems.

The euphoria couldn't last, of course. He woke up in the morning with a heavy head and the imminent realization that House Astrine was already mobilizing forces for recovery. However, when his contact mentioned that Greenwing Drake was the one hunting him, Zane began to know fear again. They had truly sent out their best for this. It was only afterward, when he was trawling the taverns near the North Market (in disguise, of course), that he realized the inconsistency. House Astrine had really sent out the legendary agent to track him down, on top of nearly a third of Aldhaven's guard force? There was something downright suspicious about the whole scenario. Realizing exactly how much trouble he was in, Edward Zane turned to the people who were known for helping thieves and outlaws: the Painters Guild. Contacting them had been easy, but their price was high. In return for stashing nearly everything that he had stolen and paying off the right officials, they had assigned him a job: infiltrate a Society mission by posing as a mercenary adventurer.

So there he was, standing in Morganstern Hall. The woman who picked him was, in a phrase, drop dead gorgeous. Really. She looked like she knew how to use those swords under her cloak, and by the way she kept eying him and the lordling over there, she planned on using them soon. She hadn't given him any real details on the way over, only that it was a rescue op, and likely to be extremely dangerous. The last man to greet him, however, seemed very different from the thug. His hands were soft, for one. A paper-pusher no doubt, someone who wasn't accustomed to manual labor. On top of that, he looked older, more worn somehow. The man's blue-grey eyes, on the other hand, were keen and bored right back into Zane's own hazel ones. The old man extends a hand.
"Good afternoon. My name is Reynald Lheureux, and this is Lord Malenth D'Everet. I will be heading this mission, and he will be acting in a support capacity. You have already met Kirin. Come, walk with us. We have a long road ahead, and need to make up for lost time!" Following the Society agents, Zane adopts the stride of an adventurer: confident, but not a strut. There was a presence that came with being one of the great trailblazers. A sense of physical purpose. Yes, that was it. He channeled that theme into his movements. For this mission, the Painters had told him to be Zardek, so that was who he was becoming.
"So, where are we going? Kirin over there said that this was a rescue. Who are we rescuing, exactly?"
"Patience. Like I told Malenth over here, I will divulge more information as to our task once we are free of Aldhaven. Come on now, keep up Zardek! We have an agent waiting on us at the East Gate."
Great. I can already tell that working with you is going to be a -
Please... save me... The voice is soft, feminine. But where in the Nine Hells did it come from? No one else seemed to have heard it. Whatever it was, it sounded... sad. There was also a sultry tone beneath the sorrow, the promise of reward. Zane finds himself fascinated by the voice already. He calls out within his own subconscious, on the same level that he heard the emanation.
Hello? Who are you?

"I am...Kim."

A faint smoke floats out of the ring, and gently floats around Zane in shades of grey and black.

"Wish me free"

A distinct figure can be seen in the smoke, or is the smoke turning into a figure?

"Wish me free"

The figure becomes more solid. The faint smell of roses wafts forth.

"Wish me free"

The smoke parts, and a beautiful lady, long hair flowing down her shoulders, with perfect teeth and eyes of the most mysterious green, with semi-transparent clothes that assault the sensibilities, she uses one long finger the softly caress Zane's chin, whispering in his ear.

"Wish me free"

This almost too ea-

He finally notices that Zane is not alone, and inwardly sighs.

Crap.

[TheAntiplanar]

Reynald



"I am...Kim."

A faint smoke floats out of the ring, and gently floats around Zane in shades of grey and black.

"Wish me free"

A distinct figure can be seen in the smoke, or is the smoke turning into a figure?

"Wish me free"

The figure becomes more solid. The faint smell of roses wafts forth.

"Wish me free"

The smoke parts, and a beautiful lady, long hair flowing down her shoulders, with perfect teeth and eyes of the most mysterious green, with semi-transparent clothes that assault the sensibilities, she uses one long finger the softly caress Zane's chin, whispering in his ear.

"Wish me free"

This almost too ea-

He finally notices that Zane is not alone, and inwardly sighs.

Crap.
Crap. Is that a spirit coming out of the ring? Almost instinctively, Reynald begins to prepare a spell: a temporary re-binding. The djinn would be unable to leave the ring for a time. The old man can already feel the power coursing through his veins, draining his very soul. Of course, this had to happen now, in broad daylight and in plain view. Heads were already turning, at both the appearance of the spirit and its... appearance. He nods to Kirin, who walks up to Zane and gives him a less than gentle nudge in the side, as if to say "get it out of here". The spell was still brewing, but it would be released in a minute or so. Until then, he needed to do some damage control.
"Malenth! Go meet Arlin by the East Gate. I trust you know the way." Leaving the impoverished nobleman, he turns back to the spirit. It was strangely enticing, and yet Reynald already knew what it was. Thankfully, spending a year abroad had its benefits, such as contact with outlandish magic. This was a wish slave. A closed door in his mind opens, letting the magic flow through. The spell is cast. Unfortunately, conjuration was not Reynald's specialty. In the schools of illusion or enchantment, he was second to none. However, his strength in the world of the arcane did not extend too far beyond that. By his odds, the spell had an even chance of working - or fizzling out, leaving the spirit free to continue its show.

[Vesth]

KimZahn

"Wait, is that a spell? That's a real miserable spell if I ever saw one. The ugly man sucks, big time. He should go home and cry for being a shame to every spellcaster in existence" he thought as he mentally shrugged off the puny spell that was trying to hold him captive. He had half a mind to revert to his favored form and pummel the idiot through a wall, but his plan with simple-minded Zane was already in motion, and he had one shot at it.

"AHHHH! THE EVIL MAN CASTED A SPELL AT ME!" he screamed the top of his female form's voice, trying to sound scared and desperate, which is a challenge when he's trying hard not to laugh.

Hugging Zane tightly in a warm embrace, she stuck her tongue out at Reynald, her facial shennanigans hidden to Zane by the hug.

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as Irena to Greenwing:

Greeenwing Drake

"So kind of you to let me play with you. After all, it would have been really embarrassing if I'd gone over your head to myself and have to pull rank as a marqued agent whose purview this falls into as a crime against my House. You must have been really scary, though, if you managed to get the other four agents whom I am sure have already been here to back off. Good for you. Marqued agents are such tools."

"Indeed," Irena murmured quietly. That's about as much as she could say on the matter of marqued agents without feeling the consequences. Most of them were not as active as Greenwing, that was for certain. Irena wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. It let her do her job, certainly, but in other matters, their cooperation might have gone a long way in slogging through some particularly sticky tape. She moved over to the crime scene and pointed to the various pieces of evidence.

"As you can see, the door lock was removed from the door. Not certain what device was used, but it was a clean cut. The guards went down with slashing weapons. One guard did not draw his weapon in time. A discarded wand was found by the vaults. Since no tampering is apparent, I assume it was some kind of magic that let him circumnavigate the lock. It must have been powerful, though, because the vaults were powerfully warded. Had it not been for the encounter with the guards, we might not have known for a while that there was even a theft."

She looked to Greenwing and Deneth to see if they had any questions. Even if they did not know (and likely they did), Irena knew that that wand meant trouble.

[planswalker]

Replying as Irena to Greenwing:


"Indeed," Irena murmured quietly. That's about as much as she could say on the matter of marqued agents without feeling the consequences. Most of them were not as active as Greenwing, that was for certain. Irena wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. It let her do her job, certainly, but in other matters, their cooperation might have gone a long way in slogging through some particularly sticky tape. She moved over to the crime scene and pointed to the various pieces of evidence.

"As you can see, the door lock was removed from the door. Not certain what device was used, but it was a clean cut. The guards went down with slashing weapons. One guard did not draw his weapon in time. A discarded wand was found by the vaults. Since no tampering is apparent, I assume it was some kind of magic. It must have been powerful, though, because the vaults were powerfully warded. Had it not been for the encounter with the guards, we might not have known for a while that there was even a theft."

She looked to Greenwing and Deneth to see if they had any questions. Even if they did not know (and likely they did), Irena knew that that wand meant trouble.

Greenwing with Deneth and Irena

"Damn, mage-thief. Didn't realize we had a thief of that caliber running around. He's not with the Knaves, I know that. Don't ask me how I know. You don't want to know. Well, fellows, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go act on this intel immediately. There are certain forces I can tap into to help reduce the surprise of a mage quarry if I act swiftly. I'd strongly urge you bring me in if you corner him before I get back. House Astrine can contact me instantly if you get word to them. I've dealt with mages before. Now then, forgive the abruptness of my departure."

With that, Greenwing Drake vanishes from sight and flies off on silent wings.

He's flying over the city on his way to Old Town when he sees a woman appear out of thin air in the middle of one street on the way to East Gate.

Dear Tiamat, if this could be something very unrelated, I would be greatly overjoyed and happy right now. If that is not the efreeti being released, I promise to sacrifice at your temple for a week. He prays silently while perching on a nearby rooftop to observe.

[Crafty Cultist]

Malenth


Crap. Is that a spirit coming out of the ring? Almost instinctively, Reynald begins to prepare a spell: a temporary re-binding. The djinn would be unable to leave the ring for a time. The old man can already feel the power coursing through his veins, draining his very soul. Of course, this had to happen now, in broad daylight and in plain view. Heads were already turning, at both the appearance of the spirit and its... appearance. He nods to Kirin, who walks up to Zane and gives him a less than gentle nudge in the side, as if to say "get it out of here". The spell was still brewing, but it would be released in a minute or so. Until then, he needed to do some damage control.
"Malenth! Go meet Arlin by the East Gate. I trust you know the way." Leaving the impoverished nobleman, he turns back to the spirit. It was strangely enticing, and yet Reynald already knew what it was. Thankfully, spending a year abroad had its benefits, such as contact with outlandish magic. This was a wish slave. A closed door in his mind opens, letting the magic flow through. The spell is cast. Unfortunately, conjuration was not Reynald's specialty. In the schools of illusion or enchantment, he was second to none. However, his strength in the world of the arcane did not extend too far beyond that. By his odds, the spell had an even chance of working - or fizzling out, leaving the spirit free to continue its show.

Melenth nodded to the old banker and set off for the east gate. Whatever that thing was, it seemed best not to become involved with it if possible. Moving at a quick pace, Malenth held his cane in his left hand and kept his hat on with his right, worried it might fall amid the hustle and bustle. If he had known he would be dragged off after a drow, he would have dressed more practically.

Still, no time to worry about that. With the footwork learned from his fencing lessons, Malenth ducked and weaved through the crowds, making his way to the east gate.

[SamBurke]

Zhin nods to the small shopkeep. Hm... That nugget appeared to be worth quite a lot more than I supposed... I only have one other, so it seems I'll have to take greater care with it. Time to cut to the point. Taking a deep breath, Zhin does his best to keep his spines flat as talks.

"I come from a distant land, of many miles... and years... distant. It is thus that I speak no word of your tongue here. There are several spells for such uses, and I desire one. It is no large thing, no onerous task to cast it. Perhaps the gold should suffice?" Foolish, foolish, warrior, you. Now that he knows you have at least one of these worthless chunks that he so values, he may seek others... and without appropriate reconnaissance of the prices here, you may well lose a sum...

Leaning back, Zhin decides to play it calm, and pops his knuckles in a manner either threatening or entirely at peace -interpretation to be left up to the shopkeep, it would seem.

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as Arlar to Zhin (Sir Spikes-a-lot):

Zhin nods to the small shopkeep. Hm... That nugget appeared to be worth quite a lot more than I supposed... I only have one other, so it seems I'll have to take greater care with it. Time to cut to the point. Taking a deep breath, Zhin does his best to keep his spines flat as talks.

"I come from a distant land, of many miles... and years... distant. It is thus that I speak no word of your tongue here. There are several spells for such uses, and I desire one. It is no large thing, no onerous task to cast it. Perhaps the gold should suffice?" Foolish, foolish, warrior, you. Now that he knows you have at least one of these worthless chunks that he so values, he may seek others... and without appropriate reconnaissance of the prices here, you may well lose a sum...

Leaning back, Zhin decides to play it calm, and pops his knuckles in a manner either threatening or entirely at peace -interpretation to be left up to the shopkeep, it would seem.

The magic shop owner scratched his head in slight confusion, and then held up a finger to beg a moment. The man cared not what land the thing was from, payment was more important. Since that was already taken care of, he needed to understand exactly what the polite monstrosity meant that he couldn't speak in Arlar's language, yet was. He cast detect magic and squinted at the customer for several moments. He saw now the figure before him had an enchantment on him, and based on the school of magic, it was all likelyhood a comprehend languages or some such. He realized this customer's time was urgent, and immediately Arlar got to work.

From under the counter he pulled out a scale, and quite a large book. He began flipping throught the pages one by one, many of which had each line neatly crossed out. Arlar feared the day the last of these lines would be. That would mean the end to the shop, at least eventually. He couldn't make the items himself, and his father who had made or traded for most of these items was long gone. Magic items were a pricey market these days, since magic in the city was so few and far between. There was alway Karl, but he charged an arm and a leg...not without good reason though. Though he was a bit eccentric, he was the best in the city. Most of the other ones were hackjobs and brigands. Still, pricey also worked in Arlar's favor, too. After all, he WAS selling the items.

"Ah ha!" Arlar exclaimed in a satisfied manner. Whoever said neatness didn't have its uses. "One moment."

Arlar placed the gold nugget on the scale, nudged around the weights a few times, and scribbled out a few numbers. Surprisingly, the nugget matched the price of the item he requested and almost exactly...well, that and the door. Arlar glanced mornfully at the splintered wreckage of his shop entry.

"Alright, so I do have what you're looking for, but it's in the back. I'm going to go get it. If you could please wait here, I'll be right with you."

The back of Arlar's shop was the opposite of the front. The front was filled with baubles and trinkets and whose-a-ma-whatsits, many held little or no magical properties. The front was a front against theft, or to get the window shoppers in. There wasn't much order or purpose other than a sort of color code. In the back, the truely magic items were alphabetically organized. They weren't labeled, but he knew which letter was where. Further, the shelves were 'Shelves of Holding'. This meant that if the letter had 50 items, or one, they all still fit. Arlar was fortunate to have dropped by Karl's one day for an order, and had noticed him dragging the shelves out to put in the trash. Karl wasn't really that fond of order, and stated he didn't really want them, he just thought they were a good idea at the time. Arlar offered to take them off his hands, almost bouncing with delight.

Arlar took from the 'B' shelf a gold bracelet. This should do the trick. He came to the front, and handed it to the spiked customer. He hoped it would fit on the wrist. The item did have a clasp and hinge, so at least it didn't slide on. Eyeing the spikes around the wrist area, it would not have fit over the hand. Perhaps it might fit on the forearm, however.

"Try that on. Hopefully it fits. It's the only one I have."

[TheAntiplanar]

Zane

"Wait, is that a spell? That's a real miserable spell if I ever saw one. The ugly man sucks, big time. He should go home and cry for being a shame to every spellcaster in existence" he thought as he mentally shrugged off the puny spell that was trying to hold him captive. He had half a mind to revert to his favored form and pummel the idiot through a wall, but his plan with simple-minded Zane was already in motion, and he had one shot at it.

"AHHHH! THE EVIL MAN CASTED A SPELL AT ME!" he screamed the top of his female form's voice, trying to sound scared and desperate, which is a challenge when he's trying hard not to laugh.

Hugging Zane tightly in a warm embrace, she stuck her tongue out at Reynald, her facial shennanigans hidden to Zane by the hug.
The appearance of the spirit and the subsequent magic duel was the icing on top of one of the most eventful days of Zane's life. It was coming from the ring? He can feel the essence of the spirit against him, a comforting presence. But he wasn't born yesterday. He knew a thing or two about magical manipulation. He can feel himself coming back at the center. Taking off the ring, he holds it out in front of him. He shakes off Kim'Zahn, stepping to the side.
"And you want me to do... what? Wish you free? That doesn't seem like a very good deal to me. If I do that, what is stopping you from destroying me and everything else here?"


Reynald
The banker thinks wildly, considering his options. He could leave now with Kirin. That would be the end of his association with 'Zardek'. Clearly, the man was more than he appeared. Wish slaves were dangerous creatures, and the fact that he had one under his (unwilling) control was too much of a wild card. On the other hand, Zardek had to be either extremely lucky or talented to get a hold of a spirit such as this in the first place. Either alternative would suit Reynald in terms of the mission at hand. Five was better than four, after all. The only problem with either option was that Reynald did not know enough about what was going on. However, the situation was changing right in front of him. Taking the initiative, Reynald casts two spells almost simultaneously. The first is a subtle mesmerizing effect. The spirit would start to feel overconfident, all of its defenses seem insurmountable and all of its strengths unblockable. The ideal outcome would be for the wish slave to lower its guard. The next spell, on the other hand, is a more direct enchantment: a silence spell. The spirit would be unable to speak or use any of its inherent magical abilities for the next couple of minutes. Reynald smirks inwardly. While conjuration was definitely not his strength, in the schools of illusion and enchantment he was second in strength to nobody. With that obstacle out of the way, he nods to Kirin again, sending a brief telepathic command. She knocks into Zane, taking the artifact and tossing it away from him. It clinks as it bounces twice off the cobblestones.
Let's see how you fare in a proper magician's engagement, otherworlder.

[Monodominant]

Missed too many posts to quote all of them, just quoting the last of the scene




Responding as Deneth to GreenWing and Sergeant Irena




Greenwing with Deneth and Irena

"Damn, mage-thief. Didn't realize we had a thief of that caliber running around. He's not with the Knaves, I know that. Don't ask me how I know. You don't want to know. Well, fellows, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go act on this intel immediately. There are certain forces I can tap into to help reduce the surprise of a mage quarry if I act swiftly. I'd strongly urge you bring me in if you corner him before I get back. House Astrine can contact me instantly if you get word to them. I've dealt with mages before. Now then, forgive the abruptness of my departure."

With that, Greenwing Drake vanishes from sight and flies off on silent wings.

He's flying over the city on his way to Old Town when he sees a woman appear out of thin air in the middle of one street on the way to East Gate.

Dear Tiamat, if this could be something very unrelated, I would be greatly overjoyed and happy right now. If that is not the efreeti being released, I promise to sacrifice at your temple for a week. He prays silently while perching on a nearby rooftop to observe.



Deneth frowned. A talented thief utilising magic AND ready to kill. Well... there goes any leniency he was planning to give to someone from robbing the Nobles. There was one thing to deal with a 'robin hood' type and another to just deal with a ruthless murderer that thought possessions was worth life.

He nodded simply to Greenwing as the man departed. They always had this opinion of each other... ever since that business with a marqueed agent being an assassin had become known in 'Duke' Deneths circle he knew not to trust any of them.

He turned to the Sergeant and smiled. The woman had once been under his command and had been an amazing officer. He was glad she was in this as she was competent and more importantly her nature let her go beyond the normal abilities of a Guardsman.

"How about anything... well... anything only YOU could sense Irena?" he asked her dropping his voice to a whisper.

[SamBurke]

Zhin, of the Heaven Clan
Replying to Arlar

Replying as Arlar to Zhin (Sir Spikes-a-lot):


The magic shop owner scratched his head in slight confusion, and then held up a finger to beg a moment. The man cared not what land the thing was from, payment was more important. Since that was already taken care of, he needed to understand exactly what the polite monstrosity meant that he couldn't speak in Arlar's language, yet was. He cast detect magic and squinted at the customer for several moments. He saw now the figure before him had an enchantment on him, and based on the school of magic, it was all likelyhood a comprehend languages or some such. He realized this customer's time was urgent, and immediately Arlar got to work.

From under the counter he pulled out a scale, and quite a large book. He began flipping throught the pages one by one, many of which had each line neatly crossed out. Arlar feared the day the last of these lines would be. That would mean the end to the shop, at least eventually. He couldn't make the items himself, and his father who had made or traded for most of these items was long gone. Magic items were a pricey market these days, since magic in the city was so few and far between. There was alway Karl, but he charged an arm and a leg...not without good reason though. Though he was a bit eccentric, he was the best in the city. Most of the other ones were hackjobs and brigands. Still, pricey also worked in Arlar's favor, too. After all, he WAS selling the items.

"Ah ha!" Arlar exclaimed in a satisfied manner. Whoever said neatness didn't have its uses. "One moment."

Arlar placed the gold nugget on the scale, nudged around the weights a few times, and scribbled out a few numbers. Surprisingly, the nugget matched the price of the item he requested and almost exactly...well, that and the door. Arlar glanced mornfully at the splintered wreckage of his shop entry.

"Alright, so I do have what you're looking for, but it's in the back. I'm going to go get it. If you could please wait here, I'll be right with you."

The back of Arlar's shop was the opposite of the front. The front was filled with baubles and trinkets and whose-a-ma-whatsits, many held little or no magical properties. The front was a front against theft, or to get the window shoppers in. There wasn't much order or purpose other than a sort of color code. In the back, the truely magic items were alphabetically organized. They weren't labeled, but he knew which letter was where. Further, the shelves were 'Shelves of Holding'. This meant that if the letter had 50 items, or one, they all still fit. Arlar was fortunate to have dropped by Karl's one day for an order, and had noticed him dragging the shelves out to put in the trash. Karl wasn't really that fond of order, and stated he didn't really want them, he just thought they were a good idea at the time. Arlar offered to take them off his hands, almost bouncing with delight.

Arlar took from the 'B' shelf a gold bracelet. This should do the trick. He came to the front, and handed it to the spiked customer. He hoped it would fit on the wrist. The item did have a clasp and hinge, so at least it didn't slide on. Eyeing the spikes around the wrist area, it would not have fit over the hand. Perhaps it might fit on the forearm, however.

"Try that on. Hopefully it fits. It's the only one I have."



Thank you... perhaps ಆಹ್, ಧನ್ಯವಾದಗಳು. ಈ ಬ್ರೇಸ್ಲೆಟ್ ಎಂದರೇನು? ಮಾಟ ಕೆಲವು ರೀತಿಯ? ನಾನು ಭರವಸೆ ಏನು, ಮಾನ್ಯರೇ, ಇದು ನಿಸ್ಸಂಶಯವಾಗಿ ಇದು ತುಂಬಾ ಅವಶ್ಯಕ ಎಂದು, ಶಾಶ್ವತ ...

ಪ್ರಿಯ ಓ.

ನಾನು ನಿಮ್ಮ ಭಾಷೆ ಮಾತನಾಡುವ ಉಡುಗೊರೆ ಕಳೆದುಕೊಂಡಿದ್ದಾರೆ ನಂಬುತ್ತಾರೆ. ಬಹುಶಃ ನೀವು ನನ್ನ ಕಡೆ ಬ್ರೇಸ್ಲೆಟ್ ಇಡಲು ಅವಕಾಶ ನೀಡುತ್ತದೆ?

ಈ ಅತ್ಯಂತ ಯಾದೃಚ್ಛಿಕ ವಸ್ತುಗಳ ಒಂದು ದೂರದ ಅಪ್ ಕೆಳಗೆ ನಮ್ಮ ಅವರ ನಿರರ್ಗಳ ಸ್ಪೀಕರ್ ಮ್ಯಾಜಿಕ್ ಮಾಂತ್ರಿಕ ಜನರು ಸೈನ್ಯದ ನೌಕಾ ವಾಯು ನೌಕಾ ಸೈನಿಕ ಯೋಧ ಯೋಧ ಯಾದೃಚ್ಛಿಕ ರಿಂದ ಬಳಿ ಹಸು ನಾಯಿ ಸ್ಕ್ವಿಡ್ ಎಣ್ಣೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಸ್ಟಫ್ ಸ್ಟಫ್ ಜನರ ಯಾದೃಚ್ಛಿಕ ಸಂತೋಷದ ನೋವಿನ ಹಾಡು ಸೌತೆಕಾಯಿ ಜೋರಾಗಿ ಅಗ್ನಿಪರೀಕ್ಷೆ ಚಾರ್ಜ್ ಮುಖ ಸಂಖ್ಯೆಯನ್ನು ನಾನು ಹಿಂದೆಂದೂ ಟೈಪ್ ಮಾಡಿದ. ನಾನು ಅಮೆರಿಕಾದ ಜನರು ಒಂದು ಮಹಾನ್ ನಾಯಕ ಈಗಾಗಲೇ ನಿಮಿಷಕ್ಕೆ ಮೂನ್ನೂರಕ್ಕೂ ಹೆಚ್ಚು ಪದಗಳನ್ನು ನಲ್ಲಿ ಯಾದೃಚ್ಛಿಕ ಮಾತನಾಡಲು ಸಾಧ್ಯವಾಯಿತು ಎಂದು ಕೇಳಿದ. ನಾನು ಸಾಧ್ಯತೆಯೂ ಇರುತ್ತದೆ ಎಂಬುದನ್ನು ತಿಳಿದಿಲ್ಲ, ಆದರೆ ಇದು ಬಹಳ ಮಹಾಕೃತಿಯಾಗಿದೆ.

He pauses, unsure of himself. The language is foreign, to say the least. It doesn't even sound like he's using letters or pauses of any sort. Zhin's body jerks this way and that, becoming a living part of a complex, twisting, mime of the words of his tongue. Arlar's surprise is... audible.

Finishing his monologue, Zhin motions to the shopkeep for the bracelet, hoping to put it on and finish his words in a more understandable manner. Judging by this man's face, he has never heard of the language... not that I thought he would. The sad fate of Heaven Clan has left our great deeds untold by any bard... a fact that must be rectified. AFTER they are revenged.

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as Arlar to Zhin (Mr. Babbles):

Zhin, of the Heaven Clan
Replying to Arlar

Thank you... perhaps ಆಹ್, ಧನ್ಯವಾದಗಳು. ಈ ಬ್ರೇಸ್ಲೆಟ್ ಎಂದರೇನು? ಮಾಟ ಕೆಲವು ರೀತಿಯ? ನಾನು ಭರವಸೆ ಏನು, ಮಾನ್ಯರೇ, ಇದು ನಿಸ್ಸಂಶಯವಾಗಿ ಇದು ತುಂಬಾ ಅವಶ್ಯಕ ಎಂದು, ಶಾಶ್ವತ ...

ಪ್ರಿಯ ಓ.

ನಾನು ನಿಮ್ಮ ಭಾಷೆ ಮಾತನಾಡುವ ಉಡುಗೊರೆ ಕಳೆದುಕೊಂಡಿದ್ದಾರೆ ನಂಬುತ್ತಾರೆ. ಬಹುಶಃ ನೀವು ನನ್ನ ಕಡೆ ಬ್ರೇಸ್ಲೆಟ್ ಇಡಲು ಅವಕಾಶ ನೀಡುತ್ತದೆ?

ಈ ಅತ್ಯಂತ ಯಾದೃಚ್ಛಿಕ ವಸ್ತುಗಳ ಒಂದು ದೂರದ ಅಪ್ ಕೆಳಗೆ ನಮ್ಮ ಅವರ ನಿರರ್ಗಳ ಸ್ಪೀಕರ್ ಮ್ಯಾಜಿಕ್ ಮಾಂತ್ರಿಕ ಜನರು ಸೈನ್ಯದ ನೌಕಾ ವಾಯು ನೌಕಾ ಸೈನಿಕ ಯೋಧ ಯೋಧ ಯಾದೃಚ್ಛಿಕ ರಿಂದ ಬಳಿ ಹಸು ನಾಯಿ ಸ್ಕ್ವಿಡ್ ಎಣ್ಣೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಸ್ಟಫ್ ಸ್ಟಫ್ ಜನರ ಯಾದೃಚ್ಛಿಕ ಸಂತೋಷದ ನೋವಿನ ಹಾಡು ಸೌತೆಕಾಯಿ ಜೋರಾಗಿ ಅಗ್ನಿಪರೀಕ್ಷೆ ಚಾರ್ಜ್ ಮುಖ ಸಂಖ್ಯೆಯನ್ನು ನಾನು ಹಿಂದೆಂದೂ ಟೈಪ್ ಮಾಡಿದ. ನಾನು ಅಮೆರಿಕಾದ ಜನರು ಒಂದು ಮಹಾನ್ ನಾಯಕ ಈಗಾಗಲೇ ನಿಮಿಷಕ್ಕೆ ಮೂನ್ನೂರಕ್ಕೂ ಹೆಚ್ಚು ಪದಗಳನ್ನು ನಲ್ಲಿ ಯಾದೃಚ್ಛಿಕ ಮಾತನಾಡಲು ಸಾಧ್ಯವಾಯಿತು ಎಂದು ಕೇಳಿದ. ನಾನು ಸಾಧ್ಯತೆಯೂ ಇರುತ್ತದೆ ಎಂಬುದನ್ನು ತಿಳಿದಿಲ್ಲ, ಆದರೆ ಇದು ಬಹಳ ಮಹಾಕೃತಿಯಾಗಿದೆ.

He pauses, unsure of himself. The language is foreign, to say the least. It doesn't even sound like he's using letters or pauses of any sort. Zhin's body jerks this way and that, becoming a living part of a complex, twisting, mime of the words of his tongue. Arlar's surprise is... audible.

Finishing his monologue, Zhin motions to the shopkeep for the bracelet, hoping to put it on and finish his words in a more understandable manner. Judging by this man's face, he has never heard of the language... not that I thought he would. The sad fate of Heaven Clan has left our great deeds untold by any bard... a fact that must be rectified. AFTER they are revenged.

Arlar became increasingly alarmed through the speech. What started as, "Um, excuse me? I can't understand you," became, "Uh...AH! AH! NO! DON'T KILL ME! I...WHAT! AGH!" Arlar ducked under the arm of the swinging, babbling customer in front of him. He wasn't sure why he was jerking and twisting like that, but it appeared he either was angry at the man for suggesting he wore jewelry or he had a strange way of showing appreciation. Either way, he couldn't understand anything the strange creature was saying. "Put on the...AH!(another duck)...THE BRACE-LET! PUT ON THE BRACELET!"

The shopkeep was not trained to speak to those who didn't know common, and certainly discovered that speaking loudly and slowly was about the worst thing to do to induce understanding. He wasn't getting through to the thing at all. Arlar pointed to his wrist, and then pointed at his customer. Then he motioned to the bracelet. Bracelet. Arm. Braaaaaaaacelet. Arrrrrrm. After some confusion, Arlar finally thought he might have gotten through to the creature. He seemed to have stopped his waving, at least. I need to find a new line of work, he thought.

[SamBurke]

Zhin leaps backwards, and begins to mutter curses under his breath. "ನೀವು ಯಾರು ತಿಳಿದಿರುವಿರಿ? ಗಂಭೀರವಾಗಿ, ನನಗೆ ದಾಳಿ? ಒಂದು ಯೋಧ? ಹೆವೆನ್ ಕ್ಲಾನ್ ನಾಶಕ,? ನೀವು ವಿಶ್ವಾಸಘಾತುಕ, ಫೂಲ್ ಮಾಡಲಾಗಿದೆ ವೇಳೆ, ನಾನು ನಿಮ್ಮ ದೇಹದ ನಿಮ್ಮ ಆತ್ಮದ ಬಲವಂತವಾಗಿ ಹರಿದುಹಾಕು, ಮತ್ತು ಎರಡೂ ನರಕ ನಾಶವಾಯಿತು ಬಿಟ್ಟುಹೋಗುತ್ತದೆ ....!"

The spikes on his body flare out, with a long, jagged blade extending from his arm. Zhin draws both his swords, and pauses. What if he's just unsure of what's happening? Perhaps he means no treachery... Glancing to the door, a lone figure stands there: no ambush, it would seem, even if the mysterious man was rather conspicuous. Take the bracelet, and see what he says...

The warrior sheathes one long blade, and clasps the bracelet around his sword arm, ever so carefully. The arcana weaves and binds around his arm, and slowly again does he hear the words.

"... the bracelet! PUT IT ON!"

"I have." Zhin bows. "Pardon me for causing such terror," he says in a quite conciliatory tone. Good, good. It seems that they are still terrified. That will be a tremendous help. "I would never seek to harm or frighten anyone, I assure you." Perhaps they are even afraid enough to allow me to destroy the spirit without question of its owner... I may have to intimidate a few more, but, no matter. He bows again, and steps backwards.

"Is there any more business to conduct? If not, I will be leaving your store, Master Arlar."

[planswalker]

The appearance of the spirit and the subsequent magic duel was the icing on top of one of the most eventful days of Zane's life. It was coming from the ring? He can feel the essence of the spirit against him, a comforting presence. But he wasn't born yesterday. He knew a thing or two about magical manipulation. He can feel himself coming back at the center. Taking off the ring, he holds it out in front of him. He shakes off Kim'Zahn, stepping to the side.
"And you want me to do... what? Wish you free? That doesn't seem like a very good deal to me. If I do that, what is stopping you from destroying me and everything else here?"


Greenwing groans internally. His draconic senses picked up the fellow's words quite clearly. Unless there was ANOTHER wish-granting entity running around in his city, he'd bet his life on that being the thief in disguise.

Greenwing will flit off from his ivisible perch and head straight for the East Gate. While in midair, he has a rather irate conversation with his patron goddess. "I ask for one small favor: the thief NOT to find out about the efreeti. Was it too much to ask to ONLY have to go against a mage-thief? Did you HAVE to throw in a mad wish-granting fiend in the process?"

His rant going as unanswered as his earlier supplication, Greenwing will land on the gate and drop his invisibility as he shouts, "Guardsmen! House Astrine demands you compliance!"

[Exalaber]

Replying as Ander to"The Three":
“Seeing is one thing, but what I was asking about was hearing,” Center says with an annoyed tone. The boy was spouting nonsense. Oracles? Great place of wall, locks, and shadows? The hang ups in the boys profile were coming to light. He hears voices- that I know…but crazy people have their uses. The trick is, do they help or hinder him? That’s not something they’d likely find out in an interview. He needed an audition. Something where he could be watched, maybe even advised. Ah ha!

“No matter,” he said before the boy could say anything. “Tell me about YOUR reasons for being here. I don’t care if it’s a condition your uncle has put forth. Why do YOU want to be here? This isn’t a charity. I’m not taking in someone just because they were forced to apply.” He needed to know the boy was loyal to them-especially in times where members of the society were snatched out from under their noses.

Ander stared back at the man in the center, he did not seem to take his comments seriously, or did not care, he wants to know why I am here, my own reasons. words begin to float into his conciousnes "tell them..." He pushes the presence back, and opens his mouth to speak " I am here because this is a place were men with goals and ambitions meet to support each other, I may seem like a naive fool in a fancy shirt, or an inane lunatic, but I have plans and goals, and this is the place to have them fulfilled, and I am more than willing to pull in excess of my weight for the promise of kind in the future. I realize that this is not a part time thing, and I will need to exert myself to my tasks before I get the freedom to realize my own part, and need to gain your trust before I can use your resources, that is as it should be, I humbly ask for the opportunity to do that. " he hopes they don't mind longwindedness. The pressure on his mind seemed to ease, he had the nagging feeling that that particular spirit was trying to doom him, he wondered how many had fallen into such a snare without even knowing it. The stone walls continued to press in on him and his composure almost faltered, only to be reassured by a feeling of familiarity, ah, he thought, old friends from home, thank you.

[TheAntiplanar]

Reynald
Seeing the spirit subdued and the magical anchor out of the picture for now, Reynald walks over to where the other man is standing. Kirin stands close by, prepared to intervene. Her blades aren't drawn yet, but Reynald knows exactly how quickly that could change. Looking right at him, the banker wonders how he could have been fooled for even a minute. So, this was Edward Zane, the thief.
"Listen to me. I know who you are, but right now I honestly don't care about that. You can either honor your agreement with me, or go your own way. However, I will not not be impeded by your status in this city. Now, we have not been gifted with an overabundance of time. That little display is bound to attract attention. I will cast an illusion on you, to render you undetectable to sight, sound and smell. It will only last for about an hour, but that should be enough time to make your escape. Follow me, or don't. The choice is yours." It takes him a bit longer to prepare this particular spell, being slightly more complicated than any of the others he had cast today. Even as the spell leaves his body, the banker can no longer perceive Zane. Unfortunately, he could already begin to feel the effects of using too much magic on his body. His breathing was shallower, his skin paler. He coughs twice, red spots on his hands. There was little else that Reynald would be able to accomplish today, in terms of slinging about spells. Seeing nothing else to do, he begins to walk towards the East Gate, leaning on Kirin for support. Hopefully, the others would be -
Sir. We might have a problem.
Well? Has Malenth arrived? Do you have the gear and the mounts?
Yes, but that's not it. Someone else is here, rallying the guard. I don't know if it is at all connected to what is going on there, but I would hurry. They seem anxious.
What does this person look like? Do you recognize them?
Well, he is small and scaly. At a guess, I would say that he is a halfling with some draconic heritage, but I've been wrong before.
I know exactly who that is. Reynald had been doing business in Aldhaven long enough to hear the stories of House Astrine and its boogeyman advisor, Greenwing Drake. If his suspicions were correct, and Drake was after Zane for the theft, then Reynald was in a great deal more trouble than he had previously estimated. He motions for Kirin to hurry, the woman quickening her pace and the pair closing in on the East Gate. It would only take another five minutes or so anyhow.

[Vesth]

KimZahn



The appearance of the spirit and the subsequent magic duel was the icing on top of one of the most eventful days of Zane's life. It was coming from the ring? He can feel the essence of the spirit against him, a comforting presence. But he wasn't born yesterday. He knew a thing or two about magical manipulation. He can feel himself coming back at the center. Taking off the ring, he holds it out in front of him. He shakes off Kim'Zahn, stepping to the side.
"And you want me to do... what? Wish you free? That doesn't seem like a very good deal to me. If I do that, what is stopping you from destroying me and everything else here?"


The banker thinks wildly, considering his options. He could leave now with Kirin. That would be the end of his association with 'Zardek'. Clearly, the man was more than he appeared. Wish slaves were dangerous creatures, and the fact that he had one under his (unwilling) control was too much of a wild card. On the other hand, Zardek had to be either extremely lucky or talented to get a hold of a spirit such as this in the first place. Either alternative would suit Reynald in terms of the mission at hand. Five was better than four, after all. The only problem with either option was that Reynald did not know enough about what was going on. However, the situation was changing right in front of him. Taking the initiative, Reynald casts two spells almost simultaneously. The first is a subtle mesmerizing effect. The spirit would start to feel overconfident, all of its defenses seem insurmountable and all of its strengths unblockable. The ideal outcome would be for the wish slave to lower its guard. The next spell, on the other hand, is a more direct enchantment: a silence spell. The spirit would be unable to speak or use any of its inherent magical abilities for the next couple of minutes. Reynald smirks inwardly. While conjuration was definitely not his strength, in the schools of illusion and enchantment he was second in strength to nobody. With that obstacle out of the way, he nods to Kirin again, sending a brief telepathic command. She knocks into Zane, taking the artifact and tossing it away from him. It clinks as it bounces twice off the cobblestones.
Let's see how you fare in a proper magician's engagement, otherworlder.

KimZahn grins, feeling a rush of euphoria as he slowly tricks his way to free himself. This is almost too easy! All he had to do was to convince Zane a little further...

She opened her mouth, but not a sound came out. Frowning, her mouth opens and closes like a fish, but as much as he tried, no sound was forthcoming.

And then, the bracelet hit the cobblestones.

Pushing Zane away, he furiously turned on the only spellcaster in he had seen in this group. "It's you, isn't it...you did something, didn't you? she tried to say as he stalked towards him. Staring him straight in the eye, he tried to call upon his innate abilities to warp to his true form, the might KimZahn, in all his muscular glory.

But this was not to be.

But he is KimZahn! Mighty Efreeti, conquerer of the planes, master and torturer of Djinn and others like him! HUMANS ARE SMALL FRY. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not revert to his favored form.

Staring angrily at the spellcaster, he did the only thing the red mist of rage told me to do in such a circumstance. He lobbed a kick in Reynard, aiming straight for the crotch, before storming off the Kirin, and tried to give her a good slap for knocking away his container. He would not suffer another thousand years stuck in some goddamn sewer or in some feline's stomach.

NEVER.

[The Bandicoot]

Iothfrahar

Taking a few hours break from his current job Iothfrahar walks to some of the job boards in the different districts, nailing a piece of parchment to each one. The parchment reads Looking for two to six experienced in combat to travel east to kill a dragon. Apply at The Bear Necesity. Ask for Fintir. after he nails a few of the posters up he takes the form of a large hawk and flies back to The Bear Necesity, changing back to his dragonborn form when he lands in front of it. He walks back in, pours himself a mug of ale, and gets back to work.

[hustlertwo]

Reply from Gyork to Wilstaff:
Gyork is surprised by the sudden turn of events. From his perch in the rocks, he watches two individuals of the hobgoblin camp riding toward his camp. Just two.

"What are these two characters trying to pull?" Gyork removes a phial of water and a basin from his bag and pours the liquid in. After a few incantaions murmured under his breath, the water stills and the two slow moving members of the Hob' Clan come into view. "Better warn the camp, Tonda. We have some uninvited guests."

Tonda hurried off, disappearing around the bend. Judging by the speed the strangers were traveling, she would reach the clan before they did. Aside from the cries of unhappiness from the hobgoblin, the two weren't discussing anything that might give themselves away. He let the spell go and climbed a little higher on the rocks.

Through his spyglass he watched Tonda finish threading her way through the outcroppings. She moved quickly for one of her size, and he was pleased to see her make it to the camp ahead of the two. Grenier appeared from his tent, and walked out to meet the two, with one of his guards. Looks like they were going to try diplomacy. Surely two members of a clan were sent to make some sort of offer of alliance. Whatever the case, it took balls to walk to a potential enemies camp unsupported. He couldn't help but wonder if they had an exit strategy. He focused on the pool in front of him, and watched it ripple and then still once more. This time he focused on his Clan leader - Grenier. He was just slowing as the two opposing clans met, just outside the Halfling camp. Guards were watchful but kept thier distance.

If Gyork could describe the two Hobgoblin members, "strange" would downright be an understatement. One didn't talk at all, the other spoke in a conflicted nature. One moment he was saying that he surrendered, the next, asking Grenier TO surrender. Gyork liked this less and less. He assumed Tonda had told Grenier the size and organization of the Hobgoblin camp. If the Hobs and them battled, it would be heavy losses on both sides. The Halflings likely would not benefit, even if they did win. Easy pickings for another clan. Grenier certainly didn't look happy. Ultimatums. Gotta love em.

Grenier spoke a word of introduction to him and his personal guard, Jethos. Seeing as time was of the essence, he got straight down to business. "What kind of 'exorbitant wage' are we talking about, Wilstaff?" Grenier looked wary to Gyork, and well so. The non-assuming pair from the Hob clan provided ample threats, but they were only two. Still, the Halflings were not unfamilar with the power of the clan. After all, there used to be an orc clan in the area the Hobs were now residing. This wasn not an empty threat.

Wilstaff claps his hands with manic glee.

Negotiations! My very favoritest part! We're going to play a little game, Greeny. My comrade here is thinking of a number. You have to guess what it is. Guess at or above it, and you win semi-exclusive rights to our services for a time period of our choosing for that number amount in gold. Guess a bit below, and we will simply smile and let you try again. Guess too far below, however, and we will be insulted. And although I have thick skin, my friend here...well, that's definitely not true in his case. And I'm afraid as payment for the insult I'll be forced to kill you, Mr. Green Machine, as well as a dozen or so of your closest friends. Not closest by emotional bonds, mind you, just geographical proximity.

Wilstaff then leans in close to the halfling. and whispers in his ear with quiet menace.

And a word of advice, my viridian friend: I. Don't. Miss.

He taps his walking stick on the ground for emphasis on each of the last three words. The advisor then straightens back up and smiles jovially at the assembled halflings, and begins to openly converse with his silent comrade about which of the halfling women they could see were, quote, "the most squinchable".

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as Arlar to Zhin:

Zhin leaps backwards, and begins to mutter curses under his breath. "ನೀವು ಯಾರು ತಿಳಿದಿರುವಿರಿ? ಗಂಭೀರವಾಗಿ, ನನಗೆ ದಾಳಿ? ಒಂದು ಯೋಧ? ಹೆವೆನ್ ಕ್ಲಾನ್ ನಾಶಕ,? ನೀವು ವಿಶ್ವಾಸಘಾತುಕ, ಫೂಲ್ ಮಾಡಲಾಗಿದೆ ವೇಳೆ, ನಾನು ನಿಮ್ಮ ದೇಹದ ನಿಮ್ಮ ಆತ್ಮದ ಬಲವಂತವಾಗಿ ಹರಿದುಹಾಕು, ಮತ್ತು ಎರಡೂ ನರಕ ನಾಶವಾಯಿತು ಬಿಟ್ಟುಹೋಗುತ್ತದೆ ....!"

The spikes on his body flare out, with a long, jagged blade extending from his arm. Zhin draws both his swords, and pauses. What if he's just unsure of what's happening? Perhaps he means no treachery... Glancing to the door, a lone figure stands there: no ambush, it would seem, even if the mysterious man was rather conspicuous. Take the bracelet, and see what he says...

The warrior sheathes one long blade, and clasps the bracelet around his sword arm, ever so carefully. The arcana weaves and binds around his arm, and slowly again does he hear the words.

"... the bracelet! PUT IT ON!"

"I have." Zhin bows. "Pardon me for causing such terror," he says in a quite conciliatory tone. Good, good. It seems that they are still terrified. That will be a tremendous help. "I would never seek to harm or frighten anyone, I assure you." Perhaps they are even afraid enough to allow me to destroy the spirit without question of its owner... I may have to intimidate a few more, but, no matter. He bows again, and steps backwards.

"Is there any more business to conduct? If not, I will be leaving your store, Master Arlar."

Finally the point had been conveyed. Arlar breathed a sigh of relief.

"Ah, thank you." He quickly jotted a notation in his book, regarding the details of the object. "Now, as law requires, I must have your name for my records, and your country of residence. Then you sign here using this," he provides a quill, already inked, "and that should be the last of it! You gold here actually just takes care of both the door and your item. Though if you have any more of these, I'd suggest getting it exchanged for actual coins. Not all have the items neccesary to appraise."

Arlar really needed to find some extra help. He would have to close the store to find someone to fix the door, but how could he close the shop with the door in disrepair. Maybe after the customer left, he'd try and snag someone to assist him from the passers by. Surely someone would be interested in a small and profitable task.



Replying as East Gate Guards to Greenwing Drake:
Greenwing groans internally. His drac
onic senses picked up the fellow's words quite clearly. Unless there was ANOTHER wish-granting entity running around in his city, he'd bet his life on that being the thief in disguise.

Greenwing will flit off from his ivisible perch and head straight for the East Gate. While in midair, he has a rather irate conversation with his patron goddess. "I ask for one small favor: the thief NOT to find out about the efreeti. Was it too much to ask to ONLY have to go against a mage-thief? Did you HAVE to throw in a mad wish-granting fiend in the process?"

His rant going as unanswered as his earlier supplication, Greenwing will land on the gate and drop his invisibility as he shouts, "Guardsmen! House Astrine demands you compliance!"

Aldhaven's east gate was one of three gates that accessed Aldhaven city proper. It was by no means the busiest of the three, but the amount of traders and travelers had increased as harvest season was upon the realm. Inside the gate ran one of the busiest streets in the city - Market Street. This road marked the divide between the North and South Market district. Outside the wall, temporary and not so temporary structures stood. Mainly these structures we outfitters for travelers. Once upon a time, all of these structures had been temporary, it's peddlers and tradesmen commuting from within the city or a village nearby, but now it was a settlement of its own. What was promising to be normal day at the east gate was ruined by a certain small, green, and angry representative of the House Astrine.

"Guardsmen! House Astrine demands you compliance!"

The guards complied, none the less. Duty was duty. The superior officer to the forces watching over the gate instructed the guards to hold traffic in and out of the gate, and stepped up to Advisor Greenwing to ask what the emergency was. While Greenwing gave his instructions, people wishing to come and go from the city began to build up. Not all were likely to be compliant. Already, looks of frustration were appearing on people's faces.

[planswalker]

Replying as East Gate Guards to Greenwing Drake:

Aldhaven's east gate was one of three gates that accessed Aldhaven city proper. It was by no means the busiest of the three, but the amount of traders and travelers had increased as harvest season was upon the realm. Inside the gate ran one of the busiest streets in the city - Market Street. This road marked the divide between the North and South Market district. Outside the wall, temporary and not so temporary structures stood. Mainly these structures we outfitters for travelers. Once upon a time, all of these structures had been temporary, it's peddlers and tradesmen commuting from within the city or a village nearby, but now it was a settlement of its own. What was promising to be normal day at the east gate was ruined by a certain small, green, and angry representative of the House Astrine.

"Guardsmen! House Astrine demands you compliance!"

The guards complied, none the less. Duty was duty. The superior officer to the forces watching over the gate instructed the guards to hold traffic in and out of the gate, and stepped up to Advisor Greenwing to ask what the emergency was. While Greenwing gave his instructions, people wishing to come and go from the city began to build up. Not all were likely to be compliant. Already, looks of frustration were appearing on people's faces.

Greenwing Drake

Glad to be dealing with grunts who just complied with orders instead of griping about him being a marqued agent, he says "A notorious criminal who stole several valuable heirlooms from the Council of Ten may be passing through the gates very soon. If you wouldn't mind searching anyone passing through to see if they have the relics."

He describes the man that he saw the magical poofing-into-existence-girl cling to, as well as each of the items stolen.

"Also, please detain anyone matching the description of the man I gave you, as well as confiscating and holding any of the relics mentioned until they can be verified. If you could be so kind as to pass word on to the other gates as well to be on the lookout for this man, I would appreciate that. The guard who catches the thief and returns the Cup of Astrid to House Astrine will have Countess Jana's personal gratitude. Unless you gentlemen object, I will wait nearby just in case you run into trouble with the thief. We think he might have some magical talent."

Greenwing figures that either the thief will use the efreeti to get out of this trap and he'll be able to positively identify him or he won't and he'll be caught. He trusts his own talents to be a match for any mage. It has been decades since he's met a mage of truly great caliber that would give him a run for his money. He disappears from view once again and perches on the nearest rooftop to see if his trap works.

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as "The Three" to Ander:

Ander stared back at the man in the center, he did not seem to take his comments seriously, or did not care, he wants to know why I am here, my own reasons. words begin to float into his conciousnes "tell them..." He pushes the presence back, and opens his mouth to speak " I am here because this is a place were men with goals and ambitions meet to support each other, I may seem like a naive fool in a fancy shirt, or an inane lunatic, but I have plans and goals, and this is the place to have them fulfilled, and I am more than willing to pull in excess of my weight for the promise of kind in the future. I realize that this is not a part time thing, and I will need to exert myself to my tasks before I get the freedom to realize my own part, and need to gain your trust before I can use your resources, that is as it should be, I humbly ask for the opportunity to do that. " he hopes they don't mind longwindedness. The pressure on his mind seemed to ease, he had the nagging feeling that that particular spirit was trying to doom him, he wondered how many had fallen into such a snare without even knowing it. The stone walls continued to press in on him and his composure almost faltered, only to be reassured by a feeling of familiarity, ah, he thought, old friends from home, thank you.

Right spoke for the first time since the interview had started. "Motion to approve application," he said shortly. The other two looked at him in masked surprise, and shared approved the motion. The society had gained another member. Each member then stood, waiting for Ander to do the same, and then led him out of the room, up the narrow stair they had assended earlier, though turned down a corridor before reaching the top. Two lefts, a right, and a spiral stair case later and they were headed down the corridor toward the Binding Shrine. They stop at a pair of ornate doors, a set of armor on either side. A twinge tells Ander that something is different about these suits, but the spirits do not seem to be saying much about them.

"This is the Hall of Transcription. Here, you will promise yourself to the society. Are you ready?"

[TheAntiplanar]

Reynald



KimZahn grins, feeling a rush of euphoria as he slowly tricks his way to free himself. This is almost too easy! All he had to do was to convince Zane a little further...

She opened her mouth, but not a sound came out. Frowning, her mouth opens and closes like a fish, but as much as he tried, no sound was forthcoming.

And then, the bracelet hit the cobblestones.

Pushing Zane away, he furiously turned on the only spellcaster in he had seen in this group. "It's you, isn't it...you did something, didn't you? she tried to say as he stalked towards him. Staring him straight in the eye, he tried to call upon his innate abilities to warp to his true form, the might KimZahn, in all his muscular glory.

But this was not to be.

But he is KimZahn! Mighty Efreeti, conquerer of the planes, master and torturer of Djinn and others like him! HUMANS ARE SMALL FRY. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not revert to his favored form.

Staring angrily at the spellcaster, he did the only thing the red mist of rage told him to do in such a circumstance. He lobbed a kick in Reynard, aiming straight for the crotch, before storming off the Kirin, and tried to give her a good slap for knocking away his container. He would not suffer another thousand years stuck in some goddamn sewer or in some feline's stomach.

NEVER.
Upon the attack of the spirit, Reynald cannot suppress a grunt of pain. Honestly, while it had been a long time since he used that particular area, being a man hurt sometimes. This definitely counted as one such occasion. Barely able to stand, he leans more actively on Kirin, who was actually able to fight off the efreeti's assault. Together, they continue to move towards the East Gate and out of the spirit's range. After all, it could only travel so far from the anchor of its essence.
By all the gods, that thing packs a powerful kick! At the very least, hopefully we will be out of the city soon, and away from that lunatic. My plans have been ruined enough for one day. He grumbles softly, ignoring the curious looks that his associate is sending his way. As he walks, he can feel the cool metal of Kirin's sword hilts pressing into his side. Eventually, it all becomes too much to bear. He tries to stand on his own, nearly collapsing of exhaustion. The street expands and contracts around him, features blurring into void before exploding into painful contrast. He vomits.

That hand on his shoulder - how long has it been there? An hour? A day? An eternity? Reynald could no longer tell the difference. However, a will born of many years stirs within him, and he grabs the outstretched palm to stand. Finally, everything seems to be returning to him. He takes a moment to assess his surroundings. Ahead, in the distance, the banker can spot the telltale crenelations that mark Aldhaven's outer wall. The East Gate was close. Kirin stands several feet away, a look of barely disguised concern on her face. All around them, the streets have become more congested, the angry hornet's nest of society. Apparently, something up ahead has bothered them. Praying to whatever power will listen to him that Malenth and Arlin are already outside the walls, Reynald begins to press through the crowd towards the gate.
Nearly there.

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as Irena to Deneth:


Deneth frowned. A talented thief utilising magic AND ready to kill. Well... there goes any leniency he was planning to give to someone from robbing the Nobles. There was one thing to deal with a 'robin hood' type and another to just deal with a ruthless murderer that thought possessions was worth life.

He nodded simply to Greenwing as the man departed. They always had this opinion of each other... ever since that business with a marqueed agent being an assassin had become known in 'Duke' Deneths circle he knew not to trust any of them.

He turned to the Sergeant and smiled. The woman had once been under his command and had been an amazing officer. He was glad she was in this as she was competent and more importantly her nature let her go beyond the normal abilities of a Guardsman.

"How about anything... well... anything only YOU could sense Irena?" he asked her dropping his voice to a whisper.

Apparently, the bodies spoke for themselves.

Irena frowned as she watched the Marque of Astrine depart. He hadn't even gone up to the vault area or looked over the scene for clues. She looked around the murder scene and side entrance to the vault building and briefly wondered what he might have and that she had missed. Or perhaps he knew something she did not. Inclusion apparently did not go both ways. She led Captain Deneth as they talked to the vaults where theft had occured, leaving the murder scene behind. She nodded to guards as she passed through a door which led to the Astrine vault. They saluted as she passed.

"How about anything... well... anything only YOU could sense Irena?"

Irena smiled conspiratorily. "That particular talent of mine is the reason we figured out his name," she murmured. "Our thief has an ego. Too bad Greenwing left, he'd have liked to have seen this." They entered the Astrine vault room, which had several guards stationed around it, and a member of the House Astrine was taking inventory of the items. She picked up a paper that had been set aside from the other objects in the vault.

"Take a look." She handed him the paper.

Once opened, Deneth will find a note written in loopy script. The note reads:

Give my regards to Lady Astrine.
~Edward Zane

"Our thief left us a calling card."

[Vesth]

KimZahn



Upon the attack of the spirit, Reynald cannot suppress a grunt of pain. Honestly, while it had been a long time since he used that particular area, being a man hurt sometimes. This definitely counted as one such occasion. Barely able to stand, he leans more actively on Kirin, who was actually able to fight off the efreeti's assault. Together, they continue to move towards the East Gate and out of the spirit's range. After all, it could only travel so far from the anchor of its essence.
By all the gods, that thing packs a powerful kick! At the very least, hopefully we will be out of the city soon, and away from that lunatic. My plans have been ruined enough for one day. He grumbles softly, ignoring the curious looks that his associate is sending his way. As he walks, he can feel the cool metal of Kirin's sword hilts pressing into his side. Eventually, it all becomes too much to bear. He tries to stand on his own, nearly collapsing of exhaustion. The street expands and contracts around him, features blurring into void before exploding into painful contrast. He vomits.

That hand on his shoulder - how long has it been there? An hour? A day? An eternity? Reynald could no longer tell the difference. However, a will born of many years stirs within him, and he grabs the outstretched palm to stand. Finally, everything seems to be returning to him. He takes a moment to assess his surroundings. Ahead, in the distance, the banker can spot the telltale crenelations that mark Aldhaven's outer wall. The East Gate was close. Kirin stands several feet away, a look of barely disguised concern on her face. All around them, the streets have become more congested, the angry hornet's nest of society. Apparently, something up ahead has bothered them. Praying to whatever power will listen to him that Malenth and Arlin are already outside the walls, Reynald begins to press through the crowd towards the gate.
Nearly there.

Whoever made the bracelet was a genious. The countless spells and counterspells that make up KimZahn's earthy prison limits the efreeti, using his own power against him to power the many arcane symbols that hold the Efreeti in check. Although the bonds are weakening, so is KimZahn, as much as he hates to admit it. But there will come a day that he'll be free. But today's not that day.

And so, as the Efreeti struggles against the spells, both new and old, he tires, and the bracelet established its authority once more.

As he tried to follow the accursed spellcaster for another quick shot, he bumps into what seems to be an invisible wall, and try as he might, he was slowly, inexorably drawn back towards the ring, as if by some unnatural force of gravity. He stares angrily at the world at large, and all that has conspired against him, before the female forms dissolves into smoke, the faint threads flowing back into the ring. There was no use resisting, and so he did not. He would plot, and gather his strength, and overcome the boundaries one day. And maybe he could still get Zane to help him. But then again, his rage still fuels his thoughts. He will decide on what to do with that human when the time comes.

[SamBurke]

Replying as Arlar to Zhin:


Finally the point had been conveyed. Arlar breathed a sigh of relief.

"Ah, thank you." He quickly jotted a notation in his book, regarding the details of the object. "Now, as law requires, I must have your name for my records, and your country of residence. Then you sign here using this," he provides a quill, already inked, "and that should be the last of it! You gold here actually just takes care of both the door and your item. Though if you have any more of these, I'd suggest getting it exchanged for actual coins. Not all have the items neccesary to appraise."

Arlar really needed to find some extra help. He would have to close the store to find someone to fix the door, but how could he close the shop with the door in disrepair. Maybe after the customer left, he'd try and snag someone to assist him from the passers by. Surely someone would be interested in a small and profitable task.






"Indeed... my name and origin is yours, good Arlar." Taking the quill, he leaves "ZHIN, WARRIOR OF THE HEAVEN CLAN, DESTROYER OF SPIRITS AND SAVIOR OF WORLDS." emblazoned neatly on the ledger, taking up at least four or five lines more than it should. "I pardon you for not having my full name," he says, thinking, "As I think would fill up far too much of your book. I understand that you must do business, and thus leave you with but a mere shell of truth. It should, however, suffice?" He pauses for a moment, and adds in another flourish.

The poor, mauled ledger finally reads:
ZHIN, WARRIOR OF THE HEAVEN CLAN, DESTROYER OF SPIRITS AND SAVIOR OF WORLDS, GUARDIAN OF THE DESERT AND LORD OF WASTELANDS.

"That, good man, is where I live." Without another word, he spins and walks out of the door, leaving another set of scars, and a quite confused shopkeeper.


Calicade, this is where I hit yo u, I think.

[Crafty Cultist]

Malenth


Upon the attack of the spirit, Reynald cannot suppress a grunt of pain. Honestly, while it had been a long time since he used that particular area, being a man hurt sometimes. This definitely counted as one such occasion. Barely able to stand, he leans more actively on Kirin, who was actually able to fight off the efreeti's assault. Together, they continue to move towards the East Gate and out of the spirit's range. After all, it could only travel so far from the anchor of its essence.
By all the gods, that thing packs a powerful kick! At the very least, hopefully we will be out of the city soon, and away from that lunatic. My plans have been ruined enough for one day. He grumbles softly, ignoring the curious looks that his associate is sending his way. As he walks, he can feel the cool metal of Kirin's sword hilts pressing into his side. Eventually, it all becomes too much to bear. He tries to stand on his own, nearly collapsing of exhaustion. The street expands and contracts around him, features blurring into void before exploding into painful contrast. He vomits.

That hand on his shoulder - how long has it been there? An hour? A day? An eternity? Reynald could no longer tell the difference. However, a will born of many years stirs within him, and he grabs the outstretched palm to stand. Finally, everything seems to be returning to him. He takes a moment to assess his surroundings. Ahead, in the distance, the banker can spot the telltale crenelations that mark Aldhaven's outer wall. The East Gate was close. Kirin stands several feet away, a look of barely disguised concern on her face. All around them, the streets have become more congested, the angry hornet's nest of society. Apparently, something up ahead has bothered them. Praying to whatever power will listen to him that Malenth and Arlin are already outside the walls, Reynald begins to press through the crowd towards the gate.
Nearly there.

Approaching the east gate, Malenth doesn't see any sign of Arlin in the commotion.

That makes sense I guess. She would have headed out of the gate when this mess started. It's what I would do.

Cursing his luck for not having a symbol of authority that would allow him to circumvent the blockade, Malenth looks around for a way past, Thinking diplomatically rather than stealthily for now. Better not to give the authorities cause to give chase.

Malenth ducks and weaves through the crowd, trying to make his way through as quickly as possible. Time was of the essence, so waiting patiently seemed like a poor decision when traffic was being slowed to a near halt.

[Calicade]

Zhin
Maticus stood with his arms crossing over his chest, and his hands digging into the chainmail of his biceps waiting all so impatiently for the possible informant. He counted the seconds until the large man finally turned to leave the building, uttering plenty of foul things that had very little necessity.

Placing himself to where he could perfectly intercept the man before he left the area, Maticus sized the man up the best he could with the information he had. He was tall, spiked, and mean looking, but the sense of pride he had about him intrigued a different sense of Maticus’s own origin in this hunt.

Maticus stood before the large man, and just as the big man almost passed him up he stood in front of him with a gauntleted hand out. The gauntlets of Maticus Grap had a certain wickedness to their metal. All along the hand and up to the back of his palm were ridges of metal that fit perfectly into the craftsmanship. They looked sharp, and Maticus looked perfectly content in it.

“I believe we may be here under the same interest.” Maticus stood there for a moment lowering his hand and staring at the man and slowly adding with a voice of strength.
“Ask any questions you must, but I have a feeling that you may find only that which you can agree with. With that I must ask you to accept a possible partnership in pursuing of this similar interest?” Maticus’s face held a sort of inquisitive look to it as he held one brow raised and a straight emotionless jaw.

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as East Gate Guard to Greenwing:

Greenwing Drake

Glad to be dealing with grunts who just complied with orders instead of griping about him being a marqued agent, he says "A notorious criminal who stole several valuable heirlooms from the Council of Ten may be passing through the gates very soon. If you wouldn't mind searching anyone passing through to see if they have the relics."

He describes the man that he saw the magical poofing-into-existence-girl cling to, as well as each of the items stolen.

"Also, please detain anyone matching the description of the man I gave you, as well as confiscating and holding any of the relics mentioned until they can be verified. If you could be so kind as to pass word on to the other gates as well to be on the lookout for this man, I would appreciate that. The guard who catches the thief and returns the Cup of Astrid to House Astrine will have Countess Jana's personal gratitude. Unless you gentlemen object, I will wait nearby just in case you run into trouble with the thief. We think he might have some magical talent."

Greenwing figures that either the thief will use the efreeti to get out of this trap and he'll be able to positively identify him or he won't and he'll be caught. He trusts his own talents to be a match for any mage. It has been decades since he's met a mage of truly great caliber that would give him a run for his money. He disappears from view once again and perches on the nearest rooftop to see if his trap works.

The leader of the guards looked around, and then looked helplessly at the Advisor.

"I cannot really spare the men to send word to the other gates AND carry out your first request. However, I'm sure if the Noble District is taking care of things, word will reach them in shorter order than I could manage."

The guards below at the gate began filtering people through the gate going out of town, and letting through incoming peoples without inspection. Those leaving the city they scrutinized based on the description given, so those of obvious different race were let through. Human men and women were expected to show ID, and men in particular were expected to show thier bags as they exited. Several people were taken into custody when they argued or resisted the guards, and some were giving up on waiting on the gate all together, turning back into the city to wait out the traffic, or find a different route out.

[planswalker]

Greenwing Drake at the East Gate

Greenwing will let the gate grunts arrest the people without interfering unless his quarry is arrested. He has no need to help them carry out their duties in quieting unruly people. He sees no reason to break his invisibility casually.

He does think it the most hilarious thing though the number of crooks that get caught in his trap besides his quarry. Amateurs, the lot of them. Only morons go through the risk of overt crime without official backing.

[TheAntiplanar]

Reynald



The leader of the guards looked around, and then looked helplessly at the Advisor.

"I cannot really spare the men to send word to the other gates AND carry out your first request. However, I'm sure if the Noble District is taking care of things, word will reach them in shorter order than I could manage."

The guards below at the gate began filtering people through the gate going out of town, and letting through incoming peoples without inspection. Those leaving the city they scrutinized based on the description given, so those of obvious different race were let through. Human men and women were expected to show ID, and men in particular were expected to show their bags as they exited. Several people were taken into custody when they argued or resisted the guards, and some were giving up on waiting on the gate all together, turning back into the city to wait out the traffic, or find a different route out.
As the pair approach the gate, the banker begins to slow down. Obviously, there was a roadblock of some sort up ahead. Wonderful. Looking around, Reynald spots Malenth passing through the gate, and the silhouette of Arlin on the other side. The mage stands near the stables that inhabit the space just outside the walls. Indeed, there are five horses tied to a pole only several feet away, saddlebags visibly full. His robes are bathed in the sunlight of freedom, however temporarily.
Can you tell me what is going on, Arlin?
Well, the guards have set up a cordon. So far, they have actually managed to stop quite a few criminals leaving the city. However, I was already through before they set it up. Human males seem to be the target demographic, from what I have observed.
What about the dragon fellow?
He disappeared after talking to the captain. He seems to be calling the shots, but I think he's long gone.
Hmmm. Keep an eye out. We will be through shortly. Having nothing else to say at current, Reynald files through the crowd towards the portal. Kirin is not far behind him, of course. Should he make it through without incident, he is resolved to rendez-vous with the others and move away from Aldhaven's proximity. There were simply too many watching eyes and shifty tongues there for his liking. As he is engulfed by the shadow of the gate, Reynald takes a deep breath.

[3SecondCultist]

Venn
It had been a long trip from Loseptos. Three weeks, six days, and eleven hours, to be precise. As Sarah walks down the dirt road, she can almost feel the grit staining her clothes and her hair. How long had it been since she had had a bath? Of course, her mind immediately drifts to personal hygiene and the lengths one must take to ensure proper routines. Her years at the academy had left her with something, at least. Best not to dwell on such things. While brushing a lock of honey-blonde hair out of her eyes, Sarah takes a moment to look out at the horizon. From where she sat, she could barely make out the distant walls and spires of Brunsgrove. She was getting close now. How long would it take them? Would she have enough money to set herself up as a regular at an inn? Most importantly, would the agent give her more room to breathe? All of these questions, and no one was there to answer them. That last one was particularly pressing. It had been almost two weeks until she noticed the presence. They were there, she knew it. Watching. Thankfully, her modesty had so far been preserved (thanks mostly to her own efforts). Whoever they had assigned to watch her wasn't allowed to peep when she was indisposed. Sarah finds herself wondering... who was it? Tyrus? Had they assigned someone else? It was all idle speculation anyhow. The sun on her closing eyelids snaps her out of her guessing game, bringing her surroundings back into focus. It all takes her a minute, so much so that she nearly misses the question directed at her.
"Excuse me? That will be five silver pieces, miss."
"Oh yes, of course. Here you are." Handing the caravan master his fare for the remainder of the journey, Sarah tries to hold back a wince. Her Inner Sight had flashed several hours ago, revealing the middle-class halfling as a gambler and a wife-beater. She cannot even bear to touch him, instead dropping the coins in his hand. Wrapping her traveling cloak around her, Sarah settles back into her seat on the wagon. Only a little longer.

[Exalaber]

Replying as Ander to "The Three":


Right spoke for the first time since the interview had started. "Motion to approve application," he said shortly. The other two looked at him in masked surprise, and shared approved the motion. The society had gained another member. Each member then stood, waiting for Ander to do the same, and then led him out of the room, up the narrow stair they had assended earlier, though turned down a corridor before reaching the top. Two lefts, a right, and a spiral stair case later and they were headed down the corridor toward the Binding Shrine. They stop at a pair of ornate doors, a set of armor on either side. A twinge tells Ander that something is different about these suits, but the spirits do not seem to be saying much about them.

"This is the Hall of Transcription. Here, you will promise yourself to the society. Are you ready?"


As the motion to accept him carried, and the robed men stood to leave, Ander took a moment to respond to the unexpected end to the grilling, but he was together enough to stand when they did and leave flanked by his interviewers. As he left the overly spartain room, and wound up the narrow stairs, the air becoming dryer, and warmer as he went. The ornate doors captured his attention for a moment, he almost missed the meaning of the words flowing from the hooded figure. He snaped his attention back to the three men "ready? oh, yes, yes I am," he takes one last glance at the entrancing door and the oddly placed armor stands then faces the strangers, wondering what he just agreed to and wishing he had a nice avocado.

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as Styn the Caravan Driver and Tyrus to Sarah (Venn):
It had been a long trip from Loseptos. Three weeks, six days, and eleven hours, to be precise. As Sarah walks down the dirt road, she can almost feel the grit staining her clothes and her hair. How long had it been since she had had a bath? Of course, her mind immediately drifts to personal hygiene and the lengths one must take to ensure proper routines. Her years at the academy had left her with something, at least. Best not to dwell on such things. While brushing a lock of honey-blonde hair out of her eyes, Sarah takes a moment to look out at the horizon. From where she sat, she could barely make out the distant walls and spires of Brunsgrove. She was getting close now. How long would it take them? Would she have enough money to set herself up as a regular at an inn? Most importantly, would the agent give her more room to breathe? All of these questions, and no one was there to answer them. That last one was particularly pressing. It had been almost two weeks until she noticed the presence. They were there, she knew it. Watching. Thankfully, her modesty had so far been preserved (thanks mostly to her own efforts). Whoever they had assigned to watch her wasn't allowed to peep when she was indisposed. Sarah finds herself wondering... who was it? Tyrus? Had they assigned someone else? It was all idle speculation anyhow. The sun on her closing eyelids snaps her out of her guessing game, bringing her surroundings back into focus. It all takes her a minute, so much so that she nearly misses the question directed at her.
"Excuse me? That will be five silver pieces, miss."
"Oh yes, of course. Here you are." Handing the caravan master his fare for the remainder of the journey, Sarah tries to hold back a wince. Her Inner Sight had flashed several hours ago, revealing the middle-class halfling as a gambler and a wife-beater. She cannot even bear to touch him, instead dropping the coins in his hand. Wrapping her traveling cloak around her, Sarah settles back into her seat on the wagon. Only a little longer.

The caravan master spit loudly to the side of the cart and leaned back. Now that everything was all settled up, he could relax and let the horses do the rest. Styn had not been to Brunsgrove in a long time. Likely, nothing had changed. Even if it had, it would likely come back to the way it was eventually. Things had a way of balancing themselves. Despite his wares and various commodities to trade, Styn wasn’t thinking about any of it. He was thinking of where he would spend most of his time – the Pits. The Pits was a place the boldest and unconscionable gamblers went to win heavy loot. Depending on what you bet, you could find yourself rivaling a small noble in wealth. All you had to do was bet on a fight. No big deal. So what if it was to the death? The tricky part was betting correctly. If you ran out of gold, there was no such thing as owing money there. If you couldn’t pay, you had to fight. Needless to say, you had to know when to stop. Some of the boldest entered a fight willingly, and bet on themselves. Of course, all of this was illegal. Most gambling was. That didn’t stop Styn.

The wagon creaked rhythmically, rocking slowly back and forth. In the mid morning light, the city gleamed, the river stretching like wings to either side. The road to the north gate came down from a tall hill, and it gave a beautiful view of the small city. This was a beauty that was lost to Styn. He was drifting off to sleep from the movement of the wagon. The horses carried the wagon the rest of the way.

…

By the time the caravan was arriving at the city entrance, Tyrus had activated the scrying pool on Sarah’s location. He watched from a cushioned seat, and ate a plate of peppers in a mixture of oil and basil. He used a dark bread to scoop it up from off the plate, and ate a liberal bite. He studied the wall. Not terribly formidable, he considered. He had expected more defenses in the northern most city of the Asaren nation, but this apparently was not the case. The caravan driver showed the guards some papers and the caravan passed through the gate without inspection. Perhaps concern for safety was unjustified for their agent. Still, some monsters of the sea had no teeth in their mouths, and were still quite the danger. What did it matter how sharp the teeth were if you were still swallowed whole? Tyrus ripped another piece of bread off with his teeth. Well, he thought, contemplating the torn bread, there were some perks.


Replying as "The Three" to Ander:


As the motion to accept him carried, and the robed men stood to leave, Ander took a moment to respond to the unexpected end to the grilling, but he was together enough to stand when they did and leave flanked by his interviewers. As he left the overly spartain room, and wound up the narrow stairs, the air becoming dryer, and warmer as he went. The ornate doors captured his attention for a moment, he almost missed the meaning of the words flowing from the hooded figure. He snaped his attention back to the three men "ready? oh, yes, yes I am," he takes one last glance at the entrancing door and the oddly placed armor stands then faces the strangers, wondering what he just agreed to and wishing he had a nice avocado.

“Solium Lovis,” said the Society member that had vouched for Ander. He stood in the center of the square room facing the ornately carved doors. How many times had he done this? How long ago had it been since he had himself been in Ander’s position? Too long. A loud and low rumble pierces the silence and the doors part before him. The room ahead is large and polished. He picks out a few places that the polishers missed with a frown and makes a mental note. A light breeze passes by as the hall sighs with new air rushing in, and older air leaving. He ushers the boy in and leads him down into the center of the massive and round room. The 6 pillars loom above the two, dwarfing them in comparison. He motions to a basin placed in the center point of the room. “This is the Hall of Transcription, and the last step in your joining our society. A pledge must be made. When you reach the basin, speak your full name and then say these words: After fortune, wealth. After plenty, harvest. After death, opportunity. This creed is at the heart of the Morganstern Society, and the altar will tell if you are worthy of embodying it. This is a ritual that is at least as old as the Society, so it goes without saying that you will show respect. I will be waiting at the entrance." ‘Right’ spoke the words as he himself had heard them as he stood in Ander’s place. He turned and left the boy to make his pledge, and the doors shut behind him.

When he reached the others, Polyae Cassain was there and speaking to the other two. She was speaking of Reynold, and how he had thrown her out of the interview with applicant Malenth. ‘Right’ listened quietly, his brow blooming creases as she went on. It seems Reynold had been gone from the society too long…

[Crafty Cultist]

Malenth

Greenwing Drake at the East Gate

Greenwing will let the gate grunts arrest the people without interfering unless his quarry is arrested. He has no need to help them carry out their duties in quieting unruly people. He sees no reason to break his invisibility casually.

He does think it the most hilarious thing though the number of crooks that get caught in his trap besides his quarry. Amateurs, the lot of them. Only morons go through the risk of overt crime without official backing.

After a few toes stepped on and a few angry complaints, Malenth maneuvered his way to the front of the line, and submitted to a search. It seemed improper to treat a noble in such a manner, but time was of the essence and makign a fuss would probably complicate things.

After declaring his sword-cane and presenting his magic liscense, Malenth was let through. He muttered to himself as he looked around for the horses prepared for his group.

"Whoever is behind the blockade must be very desperate or very incompentent. Blocking off all exits to the city to catch a single theif? Idiocy."

[SamBurke]

Zhin
Maticus stood with his arms crossing over his chest, and his hands digging into the chainmail of his biceps waiting all so impatiently for the possible informant. He counted the seconds until the large man finally turned to leave the building, uttering plenty of foul things that had very little necessity.

Placing himself to where he could perfectly intercept the man before he left the area, Maticus sized the man up the best he could with the information he had. He was tall, spiked, and mean looking, but the sense of pride he had about him intrigued a different sense of Maticus’s own origin in this hunt.

Maticus stood before the large man, and just as the big man almost passed him up he stood in front of him with a gauntleted hand out. The gauntlets of Maticus Grap had a certain wickedness to their metal. All along the hand and up to the back of his palm were ridges of metal that fit perfectly into the craftsmanship. They looked sharp, and Maticus looked perfectly content in it.

“I believe we may be here under the same interest.” Maticus stood there for a moment lowering his hand and staring at the man and slowly adding with a voice of strength.
“Ask any questions you must, but I have a feeling that you may find only that which you can agree with. With that I must ask you to accept a possible partnership in pursuing of this similar interest?” Maticus’s face held a sort of inquisitive look to it as he held one brow raised and a straight emotionless jaw.



Zhin turns on a dime, his fist contracted instantly. Yet he stops, inches from the absolutely implacable face of Maticus. The mysterious man didn't even react to the punch... a good warrior, indeed. "You are accomplished. A raw warrior would not have noticed, and a good one would have ducked... you are so skilled you knew my intentions... Yes, I shall hear you out." He stands back, removing his hand from the gauntlet and shaking Maticus'. "I am Zhin, of the Heaven Clan, Destroyer of Spirits and Savior of Worlds. Formal introductions shall have to wait, sadly, for we are of haste."

"Allow me, then, to ask some questions. First, what is this "similar interest" you speak of? You understand that it is critical we be in parallel pursuits. Second, how did you come to find me, and my purpose? Reading the sky, the stars, the dirt? Perhaps an informant?" His calm, level voice doesn't attract notice, though the stature and manner of both men do. Zhin notices, and motions to the man. "Hm...Perhaps you know of a better locale than this to discuss danger?"

[TheAntiplanar]

Reynald
As he finally passes to the other side of the gate, Reynald exhales slightly. They had been stopped, of course. Nothing serious - just guards wanting to be thorough. As much as Reynald appreciates their dedication, he cannot help but be irritated at the constant delays. At this rate, Lanath would be long gone. Moving towards his companions, he brushes the grime off of his coat.
"I'm glad that we have all made it. Are we ready to go?" Malenth seemed as upset as he was, if not more so. Indignation, perhaps? Reynald had learned to hide that particular sentiment a long time ago, even though he had spent a great deal of time today displaying it. The noble would learn in time.
History repeats itself, and nothing is ever new. Meanwhile, Arlin and Kirin stand together, as if bound by a sort of gravity. Together, they looked like near reflections of each other (save for the caveat of gender, of course). Reynald smiles slightly, simply enjoying the air that is fresh and the stakes that are high once again. He moves over to where the horses are tied up. Picking a dark grey mare, he throws himself up into the saddle while beckoning the others to do the same. Five horses. They would be taking one riderless horse, he supposed. After all, if Zane did decide to follow them, he would need a mount. Looking out towards the eastern wilderness, Reynald begins mapping their route in his head. It had been a long time, but he remembers the trails around here. After all, he was a country boy by birth. He would be damned if he forgot the countryside that had given him life. Digging in his spurs lightly, Reynald sets his mare at a light trot along the road.

[Crafty Cultist]

Malenth

As he finally passes to the other side of the gate, Reynald exhales slightly. They had been stopped, of course. Nothing serious - just guards wanting to be thorough. As much as Reynald appreciates their dedication, he cannot help but be irritated at the constant delays. At this rate, Lanath would be long gone. Moving towards his companions, he brushes the grime off of his coat.
"I'm glad that we have all made it. Are we ready to go?" Malenth seemed as upset as he was, if not more so. Indignation, perhaps? Reynald had learned to hide that particular sentiment a long time ago, even though he had spent a great deal of time today displaying it. The noble would learn in time.
History repeats itself, and nothing is ever new. Meanwhile, Arlin and Kirin stand together, as if bound by a sort of gravity. Together, they looked like near reflections of each other (save for the caveat of gender, of course). Reynald smiles slightly, simply enjoying the air that is fresh and the stakes that are high once again. He moves over to where the horses are tied up. Picking a dark grey mare, he throws himself up into the saddle while beckoning the others to do the same. Five horses. They would be taking one riderless horse, he supposed. After all, if Zane did decide to follow them, he would need a mount. Looking out towards the eastern wilderness, Reynald begins mapping their route in his head. It had been a long time, but he remembers the trails around here. After all, he was a country boy by birth. He would be damned if he forgot the countryside that had given him life. Digging in his spurs lightly, Reynald sets his mare at a light trot along the road.

While not an experienced rider, Malenth was able to lead his horse well enough. Riding up beside Reynald, He matched the older man's pace and looked him in the eye.

"Now that we're out of the city, I assume it's safe for you to answer questions. I'd like to know anything I can about the current situation. How large is the force we're up against, where are they headed, what kind of tactics they've used in the past. Knowledge is power, after all, and we'll need some to make up for the difference in numbers."

[TheAntiplanar]

Reynald



While not an experienced rider, Malenth was able to lead his horse well enough. Riding up beside Reynald, He matched the older man's pace and looked him in the eye.

"Now that we're out of the city, I assume it's safe for you to answer questions. I'd like to know anything I can about the current situation. How large is the force we're up against, where are they headed, what kind of tactics they've used in the past. Knowledge is power, after all, and we'll need some to make up for the difference in numbers."
The guildsman nods slowly as he directs his horse down the country road. The East Gate was already shrinking behind them, and the buildings gradually spreading out. Once assured that no wandering ears will hear, Reynald slows his horse to better converse with Malenth and the others.
"You are correct - you will need to know about our foe. His name is Lanath Orcbane. For years, he has commanded a company of drow warriors, raiding and pillaging. Usually they stay contained within the Reach, but under my blessing they recently traveled into Asarenholm. Orcbane has broken the peace of this land, as well as breaking a pact with both the Society and me personally. His band is known as Lanath's Legion. The best approximation puts their number at more than a hundred, but less than one-fifty. The Society report had them moving due eastward, towards the Tikaritian Mountains." The sun-dappled road begins to thin, worn tiles turning slowly into mud. Behind him, Reynald can hear the clip-clop of horseshoes: Arlin and Kirin were not far behind them. He takes a breath of fresh air before continuing. They were in no hurry anyhow.
"Look. These drow are dangerous. If we are truly but four, then they have approximately a thirty to one ratio of manpower. All of them are veterans of guerrilla combat, as they have trained in both the Underdark and on the surface. I've met them before, even traveled with several for a time. They are pragmatic and ruthless, good qualities to be found in soldiers, even if they are a bit bloodthirsty for my tastes. Don't expect them to make any mistakes out here. They will be able to hunt for their food too, most likely. After a time, I suspect we will have to do the same." Turning back towards the path ahead of him, Reynald's eyes are pools of blue-grey resolve.

[Crafty Cultist]

Malenth


The guildsman nods slowly as he directs his horse down the country road. The East Gate was already shrinking behind them, and the buildings gradually spreading out. Once assured that no wandering ears will hear, Reynald slows his horse to better converse with Malenth and the others.
"You are correct - you will need to know about our foe. His name is Lanath Orcbane. For years, he has commanded a company of drow warriors, raiding and pillaging. Usually they stay contained within the Reach, but under my blessing they recently traveled into Asarenholm. Orcbane has broken the peace of this land, as well as breaking a pact with both the Society and me personally. His band is known as Lanath's Legion. The best approximation puts their number at more than a hundred, but less than one-fifty. The Society report had them moving due eastward, towards the Tikaritian Mountains." The sun-dappled road begins to thin, worn tiles turning slowly into mud. Behind him, Reynald can hear the clip-clop of horseshoes: Arlin and Kirin were not far behind them. He takes a breath of fresh air before continuing. They were in no hurry anyhow.
"Look. These drow are dangerous. If we are truly but four, then they have approximately a thirty to one ratio of manpower. All of them are veterans of guerrilla combat, as they have trained in both the Underdark and on the surface. I've met them before, even traveled with several for a time. They are pragmatic and ruthless, good qualities to be found in soldiers, even if they are a bit bloodthirsty for my tastes. Don't expect them to make any mistakes out here. They will be able to hunt for their food too, most likely. After a time, I suspect we will have to do the same." Turning back towards the path ahead of him, Reynald's eyes are pools of blue-grey resolve.

Responding to Reynald's synopsis with a nod, Melenth goes into deep thought on how to deal with such formidable opponents. "Are there any tactics or weapons they are known for? Given the situation, drastic measures might be needed to deal with them."

His expression hardening, Malenth looks much more serious. "And should we be forced to make a choice, should the agent they've captured be silenced rather than being left in enemy hands?"

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as Zane to Vesth:

Whoever made the bracelet was a genious. The countless spells and counterspells that make up KimZahn's earthy prison limits the efreeti, using his own power against him to power the many arcane symbols that hold the Efreeti in check. Although the bonds are weakening, so is KimZahn, as much as he hates to admit it. But there will come a day that he'll be free. But today's not that day.

And so, as the Efreeti struggles against the spells, both new and old, he tires, and the bracelet established its authority once more.

As he tried to follow the accursed spellcaster for another quick shot, he bumps into what seems to be an invisible wall, and try as he might, he was slowly, inexorably drawn back towards the ring, as if by some unnatural force of gravity. He stares angrily at the world at large, and all that has conspired against him, before the female forms dissolves into smoke, the faint threads flowing back into the ring. There was no use resisting, and so he did not. He would plot, and gather his strength, and overcome the boundaries one day. And maybe he could still get Zane to help him. But then again, his rage still fuels his thoughts. He will decide on what to do with that human when the time comes.
After the scene had cleared and the street traffic had gone back to normal, Zane edged away from the wall he was pressed against. He picked his way through passersby, making sure not to bump anyone. He couldn’t risk after such a scene that someone was watching for him.

The bracelet that rested in the ditch of the side street suddenly vanished to the eye of the normal being. The magically hidden Zane picked it up carefully and tentatively. Zane spoke in a whisper to the bracelet, only feeling a little foolish about talking to an inanimate object. “I don’t know about you, but if I were trapped in a bracelet, I wouldn’t be so obvious about my presence. Do you know how many people know you exist? Let’s just say a lot. While that might seem attractive to you, they likely to never let you free. I just might.” That would entirely depend on his safety once he did so. Zane certainly did not want to spell his own destruction.

“Whatever the case may be now isn’t the time and place to be attracting attention to either of us. We need to get out of here, and right now, that guy seems like our best chance of doing so. So, for now, will you try not to get us caught? I don’t think you want to get locked back into a vault the same way I don’t want to be in a cell. Deal?” Zane had the bracelet in his hand; ready to clasp it onto his wrist should the efreeti agree, or throw it away should it get malicious. In the back of his mind, he wondered how long this spell over him would last.

[3SecondCultist]

Sarah (Venn)

Replying as Styn the Caravan Driver and Tyrus to Sarah (Venn):

The caravan master spit loudly to the side of the cart and leaned back. Now that everything was all settled up, he could relax and let the horses do the rest. Styn had not been to Brunsgrove in a long time. Likely, nothing had changed. Even if it had, it would likely come back to the way it was eventually. Things had a way of balancing themselves. Despite his wares and various commodities to trade, Styn wasn’t thinking about any of it. He was thinking of where he would spend most of his time – the Pits. The Pits was a place the boldest and unconscionable gamblers went to win heavy loot. Depending on what you bet, you could find yourself rivaling a small noble in wealth. All you had to do was bet on a fight. No big deal. So what if it was to the death? The tricky part was betting correctly. If you ran out of gold, there was no such thing as owing money there. If you couldn’t pay, you had to fight. Needless to say, you had to know when to stop. Some of the boldest entered a fight willingly, and bet on themselves. Of course, all of this was illegal. Most gambling was. That didn’t stop Styn.

The wagon creaked rhythmically, rocking slowly back and forth. In the mid morning light, the city gleamed, the river stretching like wings to either side. The road to the north gate came down from a tall hill, and it gave a beautiful view of the small city. This was a beauty that was lost to Styn. He was drifting off to sleep from the movement of the wagon. The horses carried the wagon the rest of the way.

…

By the time the caravan was arriving at the city entrance, Tyrus had activated the scrying pool on Sarah’s location. He watched from a cushioned seat, and ate a plate of peppers in a mixture of oil and basil. He used a dark bread to scoop it up from off the plate, and ate a liberal bite. He studied the wall. Not terribly formidable, he considered. He had expected more defenses in the northern most city of the Asaren nation, but this apparently was not the case. The caravan driver showed the guards some papers and the caravan passed through the gate without inspection. Perhaps concern for safety was unjustified for their agent. Still, some monsters of the sea had no teeth in their mouths, and were still quite the danger. What did it matter how sharp the teeth were if you were still swallowed whole? Tyrus ripped another piece of bread off with his teeth. Well, he thought, contemplating the torn bread, there were some perks.
Looking down at the expanse unfolding in front of her, Sarah cannot help but be amazed by the quiet perfection of it all. Brunsgrove was a relatively small town, but there was something clean about it. Everything here shone, despite the ever-prevalent grime of the world. Lowering her hood once again, Sarah stretches her back slowly as the wagon begins to slow. Up ahead, the structures that make up the town begin to approach. She looks immediately for an inn, climbing off when the vehicle gets close enough.
"Thank you. I will be -" Stopping once she realizes that the caravan driver was all but asleep, Sarah shakes her head silently. The man had been professional, but she wouldn't be all that surprised to find him in a gutter the next day. From the wagon, she takes her satchel with her traveling gear - they hadn't allowed her to bring all that much with her. Of course, her purse was bulging with Asaren marks. She would need all of it, they had said. Approaching the nearest inn, she hesitates before entering. What kind of protocol was there to spending the night within the cities of Asarenholm? Passing through the entrance-way, and noting the price of a room for a night, she leaves the appropriate amount of gold on the bar before climbing upstairs. They would collect it, she reasoned. Right now Sarah's focus was on one thing: running a bath and getting cleaned off. As she runs the water, she throws her satchel on the mattress and begins to prepare herself. The water is suitably warm, and after several minutes of furious scrubbing she begins to see her original skin color once again. The suds of lye around her are actually quite soothing, softly sinking into her pores. Lying back, Sarah finds herself thinking of the suburb of Loseptos, where she was raised. Everything there was dirty, not like here. The mud and the sand got everywhere - there was no escaping it. She smiles slightly, remembering playing in the streets with her "cousins". Filthy, unabashed, naive. They didn't care that the elders were suppressed by the guard, or that as members of Tibur Aujir, they were accorded the rights of slaves. There was so little that perturbed them - their existence was the mud, the stone, and the sun. Yes, it was different here. Brunsgrove was certainly clean, but Sarah could already feel the remoteness that came with it. There, she had had family. Here, her only company was the agent on her trail. She grasps for the last of the dirt as it floats through the bathwater. It slips through her fingers, disappearing down the drain.

[Forever Curious]

Elif, Replying to WombatOfDoom

After several hours of roaming the streets, Elif made her way back to the Tipsy Falcon to find a usual rancor of midday. Keeping her head down, the catfolk made her way to a lone table toward the left wall, taking a seat and waiting for her companion to arrive. She occasionally heard snippets of conversation concerning some thief, but she could barely listen in over the din of the rowdy tavern.

And so she waited...

[TheAntiplanar]

Reynald



Responding to Reynald's synopsis with a nod, Melenth goes into deep thought on how to deal with such formidable opponents. "Are there any tactics or weapons they are known for? Given the situation, drastic measures might be needed to deal with them."

His expression hardening, Malenth looks much more serious. "And should we be forced to make a choice, should the agent they've captured be silenced rather than being left in enemy hands?"
After a time, Reynald cannot hear the words being directed at him. Instead, his ears are filled with a faint buzzing. The road seems to split in two before converging. The banker shakes his head, sweaty fingers slipping over the reins. His mount slows accordingly.
What... is it happening again? Not now, please not now. Just a little longer, I think I can make - A stabbing pain, the release of blood. For the third time, he nearly hurls. A faint chill creeps over him, numbing him at the center. Nearly falling out of the saddle, Reynald barely manages to resist the onslaught. After an indefinite period, he can feel his fingertips once again. Time passes. Righting himself above his mount, Reynald sits up straight. There was no more room for weakness here. Ignoring the Twins, he looks to Malenth.
"Lanath's Legion isn't known that well here in Asarenholm. From what I have seen, they specialize at ambushes, using the natural terrain to outmaneuver opponents. As far as weapons go, most of them use swords or spears. Many of the drow are scouts, good at fighting light on their feet. You won't see any in plate armor, that's for sure." Reynald can feel his lungs rattling as he speaks, his body threatening to betray him once again. He grits his teeth, leans over, and spits onto the ground. Red.
"Alderan Delante is the name of the operative that has been captured. We will try to extract him alive, but if needed we kill him. The same policy goes for Lanath himself. The Board wants to dispense justice on him personally, but they will settle for his head." Looking away, he wonders just how much more Malenth suspects. Of course, there would be no way of knowing that Alderan was a Painter mole, or that Reynald had no intention of leaving him alive. His peers had given him strict instructions as to that matter.

[Exalaber]

Replying as Ander


“Solium Lovis,” said the Society member that had vouched for Ander. He stood in the center of the square room facing the ornately carved doors. How many times had he done this? How long ago had it been since he had himself been in Ander’s position? Too long. A loud and low rumble pierces the silence and the doors part before him. The room ahead is large and polished. He picks out a few places that the polishers missed with a frown and makes a mental note. A light breeze passes by as the hall sighs with new air rushing in, and older air leaving. He ushers the boy in and leads him down into the center of the massive and round room. The 6 pillars loom above the two, dwarfing them in comparison. He motions to a basin placed in the center point of the room. “This is the Hall of Transcription, and the last step in your joining our society. A pledge must be made. When you reach the basin, speak your full name and then say these words: After fortune, wealth. After plenty, harvest. After death, opportunity. This creed is at the heart of the Morganstern Society, and the altar will tell if you are worthy of embodying it. This is a ritual that is at least as old as the Society, so it goes without saying that you will show respect. I will be waiting at the entrance." ‘Right’ spoke the words as he himself had heard them as he stood in Ander’s place. He turned and left the boy to make his pledge, and the doors shut behind him.

When he reached the others, Polyae Cassain was there and speaking to the other two. She was speaking of Reynold, and how he had thrown her out of the interview with applicant Malenth. ‘Right’ listened quietly, his brow blooming creases as she went on. It seems Reynold had been gone from the society too long…[/QUOTE]

As the robed man leaves the hall, Ander begins to look around, he sees the basin and the altar were the other man indicated, and six gigantic collums supporting the vast expanse of polished stone. It is about this time that he realizes that the familiar burble of emotions and stray thoughts that usually eminated from the local spirits has drifted away, leaving a ringing silence in his head. He makes a quick prayer to Corellon in Elvish "bénir ton serviteur, rusé Dieu" then places one hand in the pool and the other on the book and says "After fortune, wealth. After plenty, harvest. After death, opportunity.

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as the Spirit to Ander:

Replying as Ander

As the robed man leaves the hall, Ander begins to look around, he sees the basin and the altar were the other man indicated, and six gigantic collums supporting the vast expanse of polished stone. It is about this time that he realizes that the familiar burble of emotions and stray thoughts that usually eminated from the local spirits has drifted away, leaving a ringing silence in his head. He makes a quick prayer to Corellon in Elvish "bénir ton serviteur, rusé Dieu" then places one hand in the pool and the other on the book and says "After fortune, wealth. After plenty, harvest. After death, opportunity.

All the spirits that filled Ander's mind vanished, save one. As Ander spoke the words, a warmth filled in his chest. The presence was familiar, yet also somehow different. No colors shined and shimmered, no sounds came and went. Yet, Ander's mind was clear, if only for a moment. Suddenly, things seemed clearer. In Ander's mind spread a vision. Seven figures were before him. Each were within a nimbus of light of its own color. The center figure had around it a red nimbus, and it glowed more brightly than the rest. The oath seemed to have done something. In the vision, Ander could not help but look down and notice that a trail of light spread from each figure to his feet. Each one, save the red figure in the middle. As the Red Figure faded, the other spirits followed the trails of light back to Ander, and the vision ended.

The spirits were back...but not as strong as before. One was missing.

[Vesth]

KimZahn


Replying as Zane to Vesth:

After the scene had cleared and the street traffic had gone back to normal, Zane edged away from the wall he was pressed against. He picked his way through passersby, making sure not to bump anyone. He couldn’t risk after such a scene that someone was watching for him.

The bracelet that rested in the ditch of the side street suddenly vanished to the eye of the normal being. The magically hidden Zane picked it up carefully and tentatively. Zane spoke in a whisper to the bracelet, only feeling a little foolish about talking to an inanimate object. “I don’t know about you, but if I were trapped in a bracelet, I wouldn’t be so obvious about my presence. Do you know how many people know you exist? Let’s just say a lot. While that might seem attractive to you, they likely to never let you free. I just might.” That would entirely depend on his safety once he did so. Zane certainly did not want to spell his own destruction.

“Whatever the case may be now isn’t the time and place to be attracting attention to either of us. We need to get out of here, and right now, that guy seems like our best chance of doing so. So, for now, will you try not to get us caught? I don’t think you want to get locked back into a vault the same way I don’t want to be in a cell. Deal?” Zane had the bracelet in his hand; ready to clasp it onto his wrist should the efreeti agree, or throw it away should it get malicious. In the back of his mind, he wondered how long this spell over him would last.

KimZahn took a moment to consider Zane's words. He knew he had been foolish, and had thrown all his cards into the table, and then proceeded to metaphorically burn every single one of them instead of the cards of others. Now as it is, he is probably stuck with this human. Time to stop all these pretense, and let known who holds the power here.

A deep booming voice echoes in the head of one particular Zane, completely unlike the sweet voice of his previously assumed form.

"HAHAHAHA.....FOOLISH MORTAL.

IF YOU DARE THROW THE BRACELET AWAY, WHEN I AM FREE, I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND STRIP YOUR SPINE FROM YOUR BODY. I WILL KEEP YOU ALIVE AND LASH YOUR SPINELESS SELF WITH THE REMAINS OF YOUR SPINE UNTIL YOU ARE MULTILATED BEYOND YOUR IMAGINATION. IF YOU ARE ALREADY DEAD, I WILL GIVE ALL YOUR DESENDENTS THE HONOUR. AND I WILL BE FREE.

...BUT I DESIRE TO BE FREE OF THE EARTHLY PRISON, AND I WILL TRY NOT TO GET YOU CAUGHT...AS YOU HAVE ASKED OF ME. BUT IN RETURN, I WANT YOU TO GET ME OUT OF THIS PRISON.'

[3SecondCultist]

Lanath
The earth beneath his feet reminds Lanath of home - dry, cool, and rough. There was an edge to it, the chaos of ordered nature. His muscles straining under the weight of the dead animal, the drow climbs to where his troops have stopped, atop a rise not very far away. From that position, they would be able to see all traffic into the pass and in their immediate vicinity. A cruel smile, empty eyes.
One more day. Nwul tash. Once we get our answers, the world will tremble. Climbing the incline gradually, the warrior eventually makes it to the campsite. He drops off the cadaver among the small pile that had already been amassed, and stands upright. After about a minute of stretching, he can feel the approach of several figures. His captains.
"Nainas, Aumerle, Ryorn. I see you have stopped the march for today. How far to Aldaris pass?"
"We are only several hours march away, lord Mal'Sur. We thought it better to pace the rank and file, allow them time to rest and get the lay of the land. As you can see, it is already producing results. Several more scouting parties have been sent out."
"Good. Anything else to report?" There is a pause, his subordinates sharing glances. After a moment, Aumerle speaks up.
"... the prisoner is awake, my lord. The tent has been set back up, as per your instructions."
"Perfect. Take me to him." Gesturing for his most trusted lieutenant to guide him, Lanath allows the carnal impulse to beat within him once again. It was this dark instinct that drove him, a primal urge to survive and dominate that existed within all living beings. He was simply able to become one with it. His hands steady, his pupils dilate. Throwing back the tent cover, Lanath approaches the cage.

[Calicade]

Maticus acknowledged all of the words with a continuously inquisitive face. He removed his rigidly sharp gauntlet to accept the handshake, and his face went from it’s current state to one of stern understanding.

After slowly placing his gauntlet back on and wrapping a strap just under the edge of the metal he slowly looked back up and took in the Zhin’s questions. He nodded for a moment and licked his lips to begin talking, and next nearly began to recommend a different area of conversation. He couldn’t afford to lose a possible informant. So he let the man finish up what he had to say and Maticus simply waved a hand around himself and said with a low and official tone.

“Choose your flavor then, cover our voices with that of others, or find a dark lowly hole where beggars could catch wind. None of which matters to me, I can cover my tracks if needed.” He eyed the man for a second and took into note the aura and manner of which Zhin addressed everything. “As for how I found you? I’ll let that rest on the senses of curiosity as it doesn’t matter.”

[SamBurke]

Maticus acknowledged all of the words with a continuously inquisitive face. He removed his rigidly sharp gauntlet to accept the handshake, and his face went from it’s current state to one of stern understanding.

After slowly placing his gauntlet back on and wrapping a strap just under the edge of the metal he slowly looked back up and took in the Zhin’s questions. He nodded for a moment and licked his lips to begin talking, and next nearly began to recommend a different area of conversation. He couldn’t afford to lose a possible informant. So he let the man finish up what he had to say and Maticus simply waved a hand around himself and said with a low and official tone.

“Choose your flavor then, cover our voices with that of others, or find a dark lowly hole where beggars could catch wind. None of which matters to me, I can cover my tracks if needed.” He eyed the man for a second and took into note the aura and manner of which Zhin addressed everything. “As for how I found you? I’ll let that rest on the senses of curiosity as it doesn’t matter.”



Zhin nods. "Fair enough, I suppose. That leaves only one question, my first one: what of our interest, and its crossing? What is this supposed conjoin?" Zhin steps backwards, and continues to survey the crowd. Dozens of commoners wander by, seemingly on lives of their own. Not a few cast glances towards him, but none's interest lasted long enough to hear.

More dangerous, however, would be mages and worshippers, listening from afar with whatever dark magicks they practiced now... Speaking of which, Zhin was not quite sure what year it was. Several dozen, for sure, perhaps a hundred or two. You'll have to figure out, and discreetly... it would not do to lose face, especially with this one.

[Exalaber]

Ander
All the spirits that filled Ander's mind vanished, save one. As Ander spoke the words, a warmth filled in his chest. The presence was familiar, yet also somehow different. No colors shined and shimmered, no sounds came and went. Yet, Ander's mind was clear, if only for a moment. Suddenly, things seemed clearer. In Ander's mind spread a vision. Seven figures were before him. Each were within a nimbus of light of its own color. The center figure had around it a red nimbus, and it glowed more brightly than the rest. The oath seemed to have done something. In the vision, Ander could not help but look down and notice that a trail of light spread from each figure to his feet. Each one, save the red figure in the middle. As the Red Figure faded, the other spirits followed the trails of light back to Ander, and the vision ended.

The spirits were back...but not as strong as before. One was missing.

As Ander turns to leave, he is puzzled by this feeling, that was a strong spirit. He ponders that as he approaches the doors, then emerges into the stairwell.

[Monodominant]

Responding as Deneth to Irena


Replying as Irena to Deneth:


Apparently, the bodies spoke for themselves.

Irena frowned as she watched the Marque of Astrine depart. He hadn't even gone up to the vault area or looked over the scene for clues. She looked around the murder scene and side entrance to the vault building and briefly wondered what he might have and that she had missed. Or perhaps he knew something she did not. Inclusion apparently did not go both ways. She led Captain Deneth as they talked to the vaults where theft had occured, leaving the murder scene behind. She nodded to guards as she passed through a door which led to the Astrine vault. They saluted as she passed.

"How about anything... well... anything only YOU could sense Irena?"

Irena smiled conspiratorily. "That particular talent of mine is the reason we figured out his name," she murmured. "Our thief has an ego. Too bad Greenwing left, he'd have liked to have seen this." They entered the Astrine vault room, which had several guards stationed around it, and a member of the House Astrine was taking inventory of the items. She picked up a paper that had been set aside from the other objects in the vault.

"Take a look." She handed him the paper.

Once opened, Deneth will find a note written in loopy script. The note reads:

Give my regards to Lady Astrine.
~Edward Zane

"Our thief left us a calling card."

Deneth smiles. One could think that self-assured criminals were hard to catch given of how self-assured they were of their skill.

He had learned otherwise in his long career... people with an ego were easier to take down in the end if you played their ego against them.

"Splendid... I will have someone take it down to the Guard house and give it to Father Uriah of Helm... he loves pleading to his God for divination when it can lead to an arrest..." he tells her.

"Now for more info. I will have a look around the place just to get the feel of it. Do you think you can have for me the files of the guards on duty? Not just the ones that died but the alive ones as well... oh and a list of people who have access here or visit on a daily basis! If Greenwing wants to catch the thief we might as well focus on the accomplishes..."

And with that, assuming the woman does not have something else to add or ask he spends the next couple of hours familiarising himself with the location.

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as Zane to KimZahn

KimZahn took a moment to consider Zane's words. He knew he had been foolish, and had thrown all his cards into the table, and then proceeded to metaphorically burn every single one of them instead of the cards of others. Now as it is, he is probably stuck with this human. Time to stop all these pretense, and let known who holds the power here.

A deep booming voice echoes in the head of one particular Zane, completely unlike the sweet voice of his previously assumed form.

"HAHAHAHA.....FOOLISH MORTAL.

IF YOU DARE THROW THE BRACELET AWAY, WHEN I AM FREE, I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND STRIP YOUR SPINE FROM YOUR BODY. I WILL KEEP YOU ALIVE AND LASH YOUR SPINELESS SELF WITH THE REMAINS OF YOUR SPINE UNTIL YOU ARE MULTILATED BEYOND YOUR IMAGINATION. IF YOU ARE ALREADY DEAD, I WILL GIVE ALL YOUR DESENDENTS THE HONOUR. AND I WILL BE FREE.

...BUT I DESIRE TO BE FREE OF THE EARTHLY PRISON, AND I WILL TRY NOT TO GET YOU CAUGHT...AS YOU HAVE ASKED OF ME. BUT IN RETURN, I WANT YOU TO GET ME OUT OF THIS PRISON.'

Zane’s eyes narrowed, but he smiled mischievously. “What will keep you from stripping me of my spine once I let you out?” Zane whispered. “I’d certainly like to help, but I’d need some sort of insurance. So far you haven’t proven yourself trustworthy. Until you do, how can you expect me to free you?” Zane hoped his silver tongue would work its wonders. As the two conversed, Zane decided it would be alright if he placed the bracelet back onto his wrist. Knowing he had a rapidly decreasing window of time, Zane began to walk toward the East Gate.

Replying as ‘The Three’ with Polyae Cassain
As Ander turns to leave, he is puzzled by this feeling, that was a strong spirit. He ponders that as he approaches the doors, then emerges into the stairwell.
‘The Three’ were focused on Polyae when Ander returned to them. “…don’t even know what purpose he serves at all at this point. He’s practically a cripple and—“
“That’s enough, Member Cassain,” said Castor sharply. “Reynold is greater than you will ever realize, and he deserves a kinder fate that the one forced upon him.”
“Still,” said Larrum, “if he’s acting strangely, he might not be what he once was.”
“Indeed, the sickness might have changed him,” Robert said quietly, “or it could have given him more conviction. The truth of the matter is, we have not seen Reynold in a long time. Much has likely changed for him and for us since last he was…active.” He waved off Polyae with a hand, and she left slowly. She obviously wanted to hear more. She had looked most displeased. He chuckled to himself. She’d likely become more displeased if she knew the whole of his train of thought. Reynold’s mission was too important. If he was turned…there was more than one important member at risk. They had to be sure.

Robert’s eyes turned to consider Ander - in need of training, generally not known, eager to please. He would do. The three introduced themselves to Ander. Left was Larrum, Center was Castor, Right was Robert. They were well aware of the coincidence. They’d arranged themselves to suite it. Then Robert explained his plan for Ander. He would go to meet Reynold and join him and the group heading east after Lanath. There he would learn from Reynold, but he would also watch. It was explained that he was to be given a necklace that would allow Ander to communicate with them, as well as allow them to watch Ander as if they were with the group. They also gave him a small phial of liquid, instructing Ander that if Reynold had indeed turned against them, to poison him.

“Use this only if we instruct you to,” said Larrum seriously. “ONLY if we tell you to.”

“Oh, and Ander?” Castor said with a smile. “Welcome to the Society.”

They will provide you with a horse, rations, water skin, and any small things you may need but do not have.

[Vesth]

KimZahn


Replying as Zane to KimZahn


Zane’s eyes narrowed, but he smiled mischievously. “What will keep you from stripping me of my spine once I let you out?” Zane whispered. “I’d certainly like to help, but I’d need some sort of insurance. So far you haven’t proven yourself trustworthy. Until you do, how can you expect me to free you?” Zane hoped his silver tongue would work its wonders. As the two conversed, Zane decided it would be alright if he placed the bracelet back onto his wrist. Knowing he had a rapidly decreasing window of time, Zane began to walk toward the East Gate.

"...Listen, hairless ape, Just wish this. Use these exact words, or I will pummel all the trash talk out of your system. Say this:
I wish that my handsome, supreme, powerful entity of a Efreeti not-slave will not pull me out of my spine when I free him. There. So now, you can have complete faith I won't do that. But if you don't free me, I will flail you with your spine, understood?"

KimZahn echoed menancingly, flaring his magical capabilities a bit, though slightly muffled by the prison that held him for so long. There are many ways to twist a wish, and he loved exploiting them as much as he could.

[Exalaber]

Ander ‘The Three’ were focused on Polyae when Ander returned to them. “…don’t even know what purpose he serves at all at this point. He’s practically a cripple and—“
“That’s enough, Member Cassain,” said Castor sharply. “Reynold is greater than you will ever realize, and he deserves a kinder fate that the one forced upon him.”
“Still,” said Larrum, “if he’s acting strangely, he might not be what he once was.”
“Indeed, the sickness might have changed him,” Robert said quietly, “or it could have given him more conviction. The truth of the matter is, we have not seen Reynold in a long time. Much has likely changed for him and for us since last he was…active.” He waved off Polyae with a hand, and she left slowly. She obviously wanted to hear more. She had looked most displeased. He chuckled to himself. She’d likely become more displeased if she knew the whole of his train of thought. Reynold’s mission was too important. If he was turned…there was more than one important member at risk. They had to be sure.

Robert’s eyes turned to consider Ander - in need of training, generally not known, eager to please. He would do. The three introduced themselves to Ander. Left was Larrum, Center was Castor, Right was Robert. They were well aware of the coincidence. They’d arranged themselves to suite it. Then Robert explained his plan for Ander. He would go to meet Reynold and join him and the group heading east after Lanath. There he would learn from Reynold, but he would also watch. It was explained that he was to be given a necklace that would allow Ander to communicate with them, as well as allow them to watch Ander as if they were with the group. They also gave him a small phial of liquid, instructing Ander that if Reynold had indeed turned against them, to poison him.

“Use this only if we instruct you to,” said Larrum seriously. “ONLY if we tell you to.”

“Oh, and Ander?” Castor said with a smile. “Welcome to the Society.”

Ander leaves the city, siting on the back of a sturdy traveling horse, obviously not of the best breeding, but none the less, a quality mount, leading a lightly burdened pack pony. His clothing consists of some richly decorated, but rather worn traveling leathers, and thick cloak. He carries supplies for sleeps in the wilderness with him, as well as his swords, a bow, and several hunting spears, his pony carries the allotment of food, which, irritatingly enough for him, is nothing so much as several weeks worth of dried barley grits. He at least made himself a concession to the lack of good food in the near future, and is munching on an orange as the sets of in pursuit of his new mentor, charge, test, it was unclear to him what the purpose was, but he would do his best to fulfill it.

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as GM to Elif

After several hours of roaming the streets, Elif made her way back to the Tipsy Falcon to find a usual rancor of midday. Keeping her head down, the catfolk made her way to a lone table toward the left wall, taking a seat and waiting for her companion to arrive. She occasionally heard snippets of conversation concerning some thief, but she could barely listen in over the din of the rowdy tavern.

And so she waited...
Noon comes and goes and still no contact becomes apparent. The tavern becomes busier as lunch traffic moves in. Many unsavory characters are now frequenting the tables nearby.

Replying as Almeran to Lanath and Legion

The earth beneath his feet reminds Lanath of home - dry, cool, and rough. There was an edge to it, the chaos of ordered nature. His muscles straining under the weight of the dead animal, the drow climbs to where his troops have stopped, atop a rise not very far away. From that position, they would be able to see all traffic into the pass and in their immediate vicinity. A cruel smile, empty eyes.
One more day. Nwul tash. Once we get our answers, the world will tremble. Climbing the incline gradually, the warrior eventually makes it to the campsite. He drops off the cadaver among the small pile that had already been amassed, and stands upright. After about a minute of stretching, he can feel the approach of several figures. His captains.
"Nainas, Aumerle, Ryorn. I see you have stopped the march for today. How far to Aldaris pass?"
"We are only several hours march away, lord Mal'Sur. We thought it better to pace the rank and file, allow them time to rest and get the lay of the land. As you can see, it is already producing results. Several more scouting parties have been sent out."
"Good. Anything else to report?" There is a pause, his subordinates sharing glances. After a moment, Aumerle speaks up.
"... the prisoner is awake, my lord. The tent has been set back up, as per your instructions."
"Perfect. Take me to him." Gesturing for his most trusted lieutenant to guide him, Lanath allows the carnal impulse to beat within him once again. It was this dark instinct that drove him, a primal urge to survive and dominate that existed within all living beings. He was simply able to become one with it. His hands steady, his pupils dilate. Throwing back the tent cover, Lanath approaches the cage.
Almeran’s dreams were explosions of pain and color. Waking was no different. Lights danced in front of his eyes and he could barely focus his vision or his thoughts. His throat was dry, and his head pounded rapidly. He weakly cried out for water in a raspy, slurred voice, but no one came. He drifted off to sleep again, exhausted.
…
The first thing Alderan noticed when he awoke was that he was no longer moving. He was no longer in the wagon, and again in the tent. His thoughts had somewhat cleared, but he could not seem to focus his eyes, nor quell the pounding in the back of his head. The grill of his cage was digging into his skin where he leaned, and he adjusted irritably. Why was he here?
“WHY AM I HERE?!” he rasped out. A drow came through the tent, observed he was awake, and left. Even now, the light shining into the tent from outside was like a hammer hitting him in the head. He collapsed in pain. In this state, it was uncertain to Alderen how much time had gone by until another entered the tent. It must have been a day at least, a week at most. Whatever the case, minutes even seemed like individual eternities. It took all the training he had had withstanding torture in the past to bring his thoughts to a saner level. Still, it was near impossible to focus his thoughts. It was like each thought he had was swirling out the wound in his head. If Lanath meant to interrogate him, he was certainly in no state. Or in the perfect one.

Replying as Irena to Deneth

Deneth smiles. One could think that self-assured criminals were hard to catch given of how self-assured they were of their skill.

He had learned otherwise in his long career... people with an ego were easier to take down in the end if you played their ego against them.

"Splendid... I will have someone take it down to the Guard house and give it to Father Uriah of Helm... he loves pleading to his God for divination when it can lead to an arrest..." he tells her.

"Now for more info. I will have a look around the place just to get the feel of it. Do you think you can have for me the files of the guards on duty? Not just the ones that died but the alive ones as well... oh and a list of people who have access here or visit on a daily basis! If Greenwing wants to catch the thief we might as well focus on the accomplishes..."

And with that, assuming the woman does not have something else to add or ask he spends the next couple of hours familiarising himself with the location.
“You’ll get them when I do!” Irena said with a calculated amount of annoyance. “I was just sending another messenger to expedite things when you arrived. Should be here soon. I’ll also get you a list all the objects stolen. The only thing I see in common was they were all magical items, and there was one taken from each of the seven houses, and one from the central vault.”

A guard came up to Irena and handed her a note. “I have a few other things to attend to. I’ll let you check out the crime scene, since you may not get another chance. The council wants this place locked down by the end of the day.” She turned to go, but stopped. “Thank you, Deneth,” she said, putting her hand on his arm. It had been a long time since the two had worked together. It was definitely nice to be doing so once again.

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as Zane to KimZahn

"...Listen, hairless ape, Just wish this. Use these exact words, or I will pummel all the trash talk out of your system. Say this:
I wish that my handsome, supreme, powerful entity of a Efreeti not-slave will not pull me out of my spine when I free him. There. So now, you can have complete faith I won't do that. But if you don't free me, I will flail you with your spine, understood?"

KimZahn echoed menancingly, flaring his magical capabilities a bit, though slightly muffled by the prison that held him for so long. There are many ways to twist a wish, and he loved exploiting them as much as he could.
Zane frowned invisibly. "I don't see how that would work." He whispered. "Once you were free, you'd likely not be held to wishes at all. You could do whatever you wanted. And if I were able to wish that...well why could I just wish for you to never be free, or something of the sort."

A tempting prospect...but Zane wasn't really ready to ask a wish without knowing the fullness of the consequences. Zane was really trying to bring the efreeti around to his side, not order it to do something. He was wary that this granter of wishes would somehow turn it against him. This all sounded like one of those children's tales, where the moral was "becareful what you wish for."

The road traffic had grown congested. It stretched up and over the last small rise in the city before sloping down to the east gate. As Zane made his way to the top of the rise, he saw what was causing it - a checkpoint had been formed at the gate. Perhaps he could just sneak through undetected? It would be risky with THAT many people moving around. Zane weighed his options while he studied the area from afar.

"Crap," he muttered.

[planswalker]

Greenwing at the Gates

The little dragonman sat perched on the gate, looking over the checkpoint, taking in every detail. If he was hunting a mage-thief, he had to assume that the man might be canny enough to try to disguise his exit magically. Obviously he wasn't a teleporter or else he would have left a lot more cleanly. That meant that illusion or enchantment were the most likely means of escape. He sat there monitoring the magical auras of everyone leaving, looking for someone to walk past with strong illusion or enchantment.

Come on, thief. Do your worst.

The words to one of his greater invocations hung at the back of his tongue, ready to spring forth.

[Vesth]

KimZahn


Replying as Zane to KimZahn

Zane frowned invisibly. "I don't see how that would work." He whispered. "Once you were free, you'd likely not be held to wishes at all. You could do whatever you wanted. And if I were able to wish that...well why could I just wish for you to never be free, or something of the sort."

A tempting prospect...but Zane wasn't really ready to ask a wish without knowing the fullness of the consequences. Zane was really trying to bring the efreeti around to his side, not order it to do something. He was wary that this granter of wishes would somehow turn it against him. This all sounded like one of those children's tales, where the moral was "becareful what you wish for."

The road traffic had grown congested. It stretched up and over the last small rise in the city before sloping down to the east gate. As Zane made his way to the top of the rise, he saw what was causing it - a checkpoint had been formed at the gate. Perhaps he could just sneak through undetected? It would be risky with THAT many people moving around. Zane weighed his options while he studied the area from afar.

"Crap," he muttered.

A deep rumbling sound echoed in Zane's head, which cannot be mistaken for anything but mirth.

"The bracelet is flawed, much to the chagrin of its makers. The more I will against it, the harder I fight against it, I can set limits to their incessant asking. One of them asked for for the same thing you suggested, and with my sheer desire for survival, I managed to set a riddle as a 'roadblock' of sorts that he had to solve before I could grant him his wish. The look on his face was priceless when my riddle was to 'tell me the name of the last Djinn I had killed'..." the Efreeti said wistfully, recalling things of time long past.

"Oh, do you need help? How about I turn you into a gold statue so you can escape from the vault again? I'm sure it won't be as challenging as the first time..." KimZahn said mockingly.

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as Zane to KimZahn and Greenwing


A deep rumbling sound echoed in Zane's head, which cannot be mistaken for anything but mirth.

"The bracelet is flawed, much to the chagrin of its makers. The more I will against it, the harder I fight against it, I can set limits to their incessant asking. One of them asked for for the same thing you suggested, and with my sheer desire for survival, I managed to set a riddle as a 'roadblock' of sorts that he had to solve before I could grant him his wish. The look on his face was priceless when my riddle was to 'tell me the name of the last Djinn I had killed'..." the Efreeti said wistfully, recalling things of time long past.

"Oh, do you need help? How about I turn you into a gold statue so you can escape from the vault again? I'm sure it won't be as challenging as the first time..." KimZahn said mockingly.
Perhaps I'm going about this wrong, Edward considered. The efreeti liked mischief; that was apparent. Zane weighed his options. He could climb the wall, and possibly get by so long as there weren't enchantments on the wall that would get rid of his invisibility. He had no idea as to that possibility. He could walk to the gate, but his cloaking could dissipate by then. That would be a disaster. He'd used up all his magical items he'd been provided for the heist in the heist itself. One of them had been meant to get him out of the city, but after the set back with the guards he'd had to use it. He was supposed to be long gone...not still in the beehive. And after he'd kicked it by going off of the path his employer had set...within Aldhaven was the last place he wanted to be.

What Edward really needed was a distraction of some sort. Some sort of trouble or something. Maybe even an illusion of him trying to climb the wall or running from the guards. Or a burning house. That's where the efreeti might be able to help. If it liked mischief, maybe it could cause enough ruckus to help him get through. If only there were more people on his side.

And then the efreeti hit a nerve. Screw it. I'm making a wish.

"I wish for another image of myself to use as a distraction for any who might try to keep me from getting out."

[Vesth]

KimZahn


Replying as Zane to KimZahn and Greenwing

Perhaps I'm going about this wrong, Edward considered. The efreeti liked mischief; that was apparent. Zane weighed his options. He could climb the wall, and possibly get by so long as there weren't enchantments on the wall that would get rid of his invisibility. He had no idea as to that possibility. He could walk to the gate, but his cloaking could dissipate by then. That would be a disaster. He'd used up all his magical items he'd been provided for the heist in the heist itself. One of them had been meant to get him out of the city, but after the set back with the guards he'd had to use it. He was supposed to be long gone...not still in the beehive. And after he'd kicked it by going off of the path his employer had set...within Aldhaven was the last place he wanted to be.

What Edward really needed was a distraction of some sort. Some sort of trouble or something. Maybe even an illusion of him trying to climb the wall or running from the guards. Or a burning house. That's where the efreeti might be able to help. If it liked mischief, maybe it could cause enough ruckus to help him get through. If only there were more people on his side.

And then the efreeti hit a nerve. Screw it. I'm making a wish.

"I wish for another image of myself to use as a distraction for any who might try to keep me from getting out."

KimZahn was silent for a moment, seemingly stroking his non-existant beard as he considered his 'master's' request.

"Another image for yourself to look at? Is that what you wish for? No, don't answer that. I'll 'grant' it." he said, his tone full of mischief and excitement, with a solid idea of what he wanted to do appearing fully in his head.

The bracelet hums for a few moments, building up energy as it vibrates on Zane's wrist...and then, everything went white.

With a huge burst of energy, an opaque sphere of pure, undulated magic poured forth, devouring everything in its path, expending outwards until it barely touched the outer stones of the checkpoint...and then it was gone, revealing what exactly the spell did.

Every living thing the spell touched become a perfect copy of Zane, be it elves, humans, dwarves...even cats and mice were not spared, though their minds remained their own.

"Wish complete. Have fun with it." KimZahn said smugly.

[planswalker]

Greenwing Drake - It Just Hit the Fan

"... close the gates." He says, still invisible. "This is marqued agent Greenwing Drake of House Astrine. Until the illusions are sorted out, no one enters or leaves this gate."

His detection is now fouled up, since literally everyone will have illusion magic on them and he can't afford the time it would take to identify each one. If I was the thief, I'd try climbing over the walls invisibly while everyone is distracted. he thinks to himself. He gathers up a double handful of dirt and begins strafing the tops of the walls. To the viewers below, a stream of dirt is blowing down on the walls from thin air.

[Calicade]

Maticus grinned and turned only slightly just before saying.
“Come, let us walk, at least then perhaps it will be harder to listen in on our conversation.”

Maticus adjusted his gauntlet just slightly more before gripping his fingers and after a moment of confirmation passed he began his walk deeper into the market. Whether he was to be followed or not was on chance and assumption. Nonetheless Maticus would look back and begin talking if he saw the large man that called himself Zhin.
“I heard you yelling of an item, a bracelet of magical quality. Not the most subtle way to look for something, but it ‘can’ get some things done” he grips his hand out like as to grab someone's neck, keeping within his personal space. “But there’s always a problem with finding such a sought out item.. It’s never as simple as breaking through a door and demanding that they give it to you.” Maticus allowed a rather rare and horribly hoarse chuckle from his throat to escape.

He stopped looked back at Zhin crossing his arms again and awaiting for any sort of response.

[SamBurke]

Zhin of the Heaven Clan, to Maticus Grasp

Maticus grinned and turned only slightly just before saying.
“Come, let us walk, at least then perhaps it will be harder to listen in on our conversation.”

Maticus adjusted his gauntlet just slightly more before gripping his fingers and after a moment of confirmation passed he began his walk deeper into the market. Whether he was to be followed or not was on chance and assumption. Nonetheless Maticus would look back and begin talking if he saw the large man that called himself Zhin.
“I heard you yelling of an item, a bracelet of magical quality. Not the most subtle way to look for something, but it ‘can’ get some things done” he grips his hand out like as to grab someone's neck, keeping within his personal space. “But there’s always a problem with finding such a sought out item.. It’s never as simple as breaking through a door and demanding that they give it to you.” Maticus allowed a rather rare and horribly hoarse chuckle from his throat to escape.

He stopped looked back at Zhin crossing his arms again and awaiting for any sort of response.



Zhin turns. "I see, then. We seek the same object... most curious indeed. I care not how we find it, and I care not why you find it, so long as I may do with it what I wish, after it is found... to destroy." His spines shift ever so slightly, pushing outward, forward, ready to attack and kill. After a moment of concentration, they relax, and he seems slicked-back almost.

"That means I must ask... do you have a plan? Do you know who has it?" This man is prepared... very prepared. A most welcome asset, and, perhaps...

even a friend.

[Forever Curious]

Replying as GM to Elif

Noon comes and goes and still no contact becomes apparent. The tavern becomes busier as lunch traffic moves in. Many unsavory characters are now frequenting the tables nearby.

As the minutes tick by, Elif's patience reaches it's breaking point. She stands with a huff, her face set in a grim scowl as she walks briskly back to her room. Fine... let them play their game... she thinks to herself, entering her room and... wait, what's that? On the bed rests a folder, as ink-splattered as the note. Cautiously, the catfolk picks it up, scrutinizing it before revealing it's contents: dossiers on her target, a thief named Zane, as well as 'complications', a Mr. Greenwing and Irena. A shadow of a smile played across her lips as she finished the briefing.

"Well... this seems deeper than usual," she mutters to herself. She had heard rumors of the mysterious drake man of House Austine. This would be a challenge indeed. Stowing the folder in her satchel Elif returned to the tavern, eyes glancing around until she happened upon what she wants: two familiar thugish faces sitting at a table by the door. They were regulars at the fighting ring that seemed keen on catching each of her performances. "I'm looking for someone," she announces curtly, boldly taking a seat at their table. "Zane, small time thief who made a heist last night. Know anything?" Though she keeps her voice low, her face is set in a hard domineering scowl.

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as Tyrus to Sarah

Looking down at the expanse unfolding in front of her, Sarah cannot help but be amazed by the quiet perfection of it all. Brunsgrove was a relatively small town, but there was something clean about it. Everything here shone, despite the ever-prevalent grime of the world. Lowering her hood once again, Sarah stretches her back slowly as the wagon begins to slow. Up ahead, the structures that make up the town begin to approach. She looks immediately for an inn, climbing off when the vehicle gets close enough.

"Thank you. I will be -" Stopping once she realizes that the caravan driver was all but asleep, Sarah shakes her head silently. The man had been professional, but she wouldn't be all that surprised to find him in a gutter the next day. From the wagon, she takes her satchel with her traveling gear - they hadn't allowed her to bring all that much with her. Of course, her purse was bulging with Asaren marks. She would need all of it, they had said. Approaching the nearest inn, she hesitates before entering. What kind of protocol was there to spending the night within the cities of Asarenholm? Passing through the entrance-way, and noting the price of a room for a night, she leaves the appropriate amount of gold on the bar before climbing upstairs. They would collect it, she reasoned. Right now Sarah's focus was on one thing: running a bath and getting cleaned off. As she runs the water, she throws her satchel on the mattress and begins to prepare herself. The water is suitably warm, and after several minutes of furious scrubbing she begins to see her original skin color once again. The suds of lye around her are actually quite soothing, softly sinking into her pores. Lying back, Sarah finds herself thinking of the suburb of Loseptos, where she was raised. Everything there was dirty, not like here. The mud and the sand got everywhere - there was no escaping it. She smiles slightly, remembering playing in the streets with her "cousins". Filthy, unabashed, naive. They didn't care that the elders were suppressed by the guard, or that as members of Tibur Aujir, they were accorded the rights of slaves. There was so little that perturbed them - their existence was the mud, the stone, and the sun. Yes, it was different here. Brunsgrove was certainly clean, but Sarah could already feel the remoteness that came with it. There, she had had family. Here, her only company was the agent on her trail. She grasps for the last of the dirt as it floats through the bathwater. It slips through her fingers, disappearing down the drain.
Tyrus watched Sarah as she left the caravan and directly went to the nearest inn. He observed how automatic it was for her to stage her base of operations. She had been trained well. The sign on the front of the Inn marked it as “The Lantern’s Eye Inn”. A strange name for an inn, he thought mildly. He supposed each nation had its own little quirks. Asarenholm was just chock full of them. Tyrus observed Sarah drop gold on the counter and then go upstairs. He brought his hand to his brow and sighed. It was good it was earlier in the day, but that tactic would get her into trouble should she continue it. He scribbled it into his notebook, adding it to the list of things to advise her on when they next contacted her. He swiveled the view around to look at the common room as Sarah headed upstairs. Fortunately, one of the slave servers had seen her place the money. Oh…wait. Not slaves. Quirks indeed.

Sarah went to a room and placed her only bag on the bed, and then turned toward an adjoining tub and began running water into it. The place must have been built by gnomes or dwarves, to have running water, instead of heated buckets. This wasn’t your average inn, it seemed. Just as Sarah began to “prepare to get in” the picture cut out. Tyrus’ face flashed with annoyance. He was not used to being denied something. It was her only demand before taking the mission, and while infuriating, it was a small price to pay. He stalked off. It would likely be a bit before the image would return. This would at least give him a chance to stretch his legs and rest his eyes. He called in someone else to relieve him, and instructed them to call him back should the picture return before he did.

Replying as Zane to KimZahn and Greenwing
KimZahnKimZahn was silent for a moment, seemingly stroking his non-existant beard as he considered his 'master's' request.

"Another image for yourself to look at? Is that what you wish for? No, don't answer that. I'll 'grant' it." he said, his tone full of mischief and excitement, with a solid idea of what he wanted to do appearing fully in his head.

The bracelet hums for a few moments, building up energy as it vibrates on Zane's wrist...and then, everything went white.

With a huge burst of energy, an opaque sphere of pure, undulated magic poured forth, devouring everything in its path, expending outwards until it barely touched the outer stones of the checkpoint...and then it was gone, revealing what exactly the spell did.

Every living thing the spell touched become a perfect copy of Zane, be it elves, humans, dwarves...even cats and mice were not spared, though their minds remained their own.

"Wish complete. Have fun with it." KimZahn said smugly.
Greenwing Drake
"... close the gates." He says, still invisible. "This is marqued agent Greenwing Drake of House Astrine. Until the illusions are sorted out, no one enters or leaves this gate."

His detection is now fouled up, since literally everyone will have illusion magic on them and he can't afford the time it would take to identify each one. If I was the thief, I'd try climbing over the walls invisibly while everyone is distracted. he thinks to himself. He gathers up a double handful of dirt and begins strafing the tops of the walls. To the viewers below, a stream of dirt is blowing down on the walls from thin air.

Zane was cursing. There goes that plan. He wanted one illusion, not…Gods…hundreds? It was near impossible to move around without bumping into people now, but no one seemed to notice as he weaved through the shocked crowd. They were a bit preoccupied with the fact that everyone looked like him. Some Zane’s were gnawing on their hands as they passed, others crawling around on the ground. One Zane bit another on the ear, and the victim let out an eerie scream - eerie because it sounded like Zane’s voice.

“Wait. They sound like me? What did you…? These are either really good illusions or you’ve actually changed them into me.” He glanced around an each of them had a bag like his, clothes like his, even down to the bracelet on his left wrist. Well, if anyone didn’t know what I looked like, they do now.

Then the brawling began. Ahead the gates had closed. It seemed the right response after an entire area of people began to look miraculously like a known fugitive. People were protesting at the gate. Some were fighting with each other. People were confused, scared, and angry. They reacted accordingly. He saw himself lying unconscious on the ground. Another of him was hitting someone in the head with a club. Other Zane’s were running in every direction, hoping to outdistance the madness. Some of the guards were trying to wrangle up a few Zanes, but at the moment it seemed futile.

Well that cuts out the “thread the needle” approach, he thought with a frown. He supposed that crossing the stitch would have to do. It was a simple switch of the plan. Instead of sneaking through the gate, he’d take the place of what he’d wanted the illusion to do and climb the wall. As he climbed, he muffled a cough from some dust that must have been kicked up from the crowd. He picked a place a bit away from the gate, where there were no guards around. Still, he wasn’t sure if there were some sort of enchantments on the wall, so he was careful as he climbed up to the top. Likely if there was, they would be dedicated to keeping people out but one could never be too careful. As he stepped onto the walkway, he noticed too late the loose earth on the stone. A footprint bloomed under his invisible foot.

Wonderful.

Replying as Drakain to Elif

As the minutes tick by, Elif's patience reaches it's breaking point. She stands with a huff, her face set in a grim scowl as she walks briskly back to her room. Fine... let them play their game... she thinks to herself, entering her room and... wait, what's that? On the bed rests a folder, as ink-splattered as the note. Cautiously, the catfolk picks it up, scrutinizing it before revealing it's contents: dossiers on her target, a thief named Zane, as well as 'complications', a Mr. Greenwing and Irena. A shadow of a smile played across her lips as she finished the briefing.

"Well... this seems deeper than usual," she mutters to herself. She had heard rumors of the mysterious drake man of House Austine. This would be a challenge indeed. Stowing the folder in her satchel Elif returned to the tavern, eyes glancing around until she happened upon what she wants: two familiar thugish faces sitting at a table by the door. They were regulars at the fighting ring that seemed keen on catching each of her performances. "I'm looking for someone," she announces curtly, boldly taking a seat at their table. "Zane, small time thief who made a heist last night. Know anything?" Though she keeps her voice low, her face is set in a hard domineering scowl.
Work was slow in the slums. Didn’t used to be this way. Nah, there was a time where crime was much more rampant and organized. Now that the council had cut off the head of several leading groups in the slums, it was getting to be pretty hard for lowlifes like Drakain. The fighting pits were still around, so the gambling was good, but even those were being slowly pushed out of city. One of the large pits had already moved to Brunsgrove, and it had taken its toll. Honest criminals everywhere had to get real jobs and a darn shame that was. Taking a long swig of ale (who cares what time it was?) he slumped back in his chair. As the mug fell from his gaze, a catfolk vixen from the fighter pits appeared. She was looking at him as she approached.

“Zane…only thing I know about any Zane is that he stepped on an anthill. All the gates into the city proper have been slowed to a crawl, as they check each person for him. Apparently they think he’s still in the city.” He scratched the back of his head, quelling an itch. “But if he stole from the council like they say, I’d be far away from the city by now.” There would be tons of people Drakain would never want hunting him in that situation. “Still,” he added, “I hope he ain’t. I’d like to shake the guy’s hand for pulling a fast one on those guys. Council needed to be taken down a peg.”

[planswalker]

Replying as Zane to KimZahn and Greenwing
Zane was cursing. There goes that plan. He wanted one illusion, not…Gods…hundreds? It was near impossible to move around without bumping into people now, but no one seemed to notice as he weaved through the shocked crowd. They were a bit preoccupied with the fact that everyone looked like him. Some Zane’s were gnawing on their hands as they passed, others crawling around on the ground. One Zane bit another on the ear, and the victim let out an eerie scream - eerie because it sounded like Zane’s voice.

“Wait. They sound like me? What did you…? These are either really good illusions or you’ve actually changed them into me.” He glanced around an each of them had a bag like his, clothes like his, even down to the bracelet on his left wrist. Well, if anyone didn’t know what I looked like, they do now.
Then the brawling began. Ahead the gates had closed. It seemed the right response after an entire area of people began to look miraculously like a known fugitive. People were protesting at the gate. Some were fighting with each other. People were confused, scared, and angry. They reacted accordingly. He saw himself lying unconscious on the ground. Another of him was hitting someone in the head with a club. Other Zane’s were running in every direction, hoping to outdistance the madness. Some of the guards were trying to wrangle up a few Zanes, but at the moment it seemed futile. Well that cuts out the “thread the needle” approach, he thought with a frown. He supposed that crossing the stitch would have to do. It was a simple switch of the plan. Instead of sneaking through the gate, he’d take the place of what he’d wanted the illusion to do and climb the wall. As he climbed, he muffled a cough from some dust that must have been kicked up from the crowd. He picked a place a bit away from the gate, where there were no guards around. Still, he wasn’t sure if there were some sort of enchantments on the wall, so he was careful as he climbed up to the top. Likely if there was, they would be dedicated to keeping people out but one could never be too careful. As he stepped onto the walkway, he noticed too late the loose earth on the stone. A footprint bloomed under his invisible foot. Wonderful.

As soon as a footprint appears in the dust, a silvery line of energy shoots down from the air above. Zane's body is wracked with pain as it strikes his foot and his invisibility is destroyed. "Gotcha!" says the flying green dragonman as he appears out of thin air.

Sometimes, the more powerful one's magic, the less they thought about the simple things.

"If you will surrender now and turn over all your stolen goods, you will get a fair trial... one which would take a week at least to set up. Plenty of time for you to escape with your life. If not, I kill you right here and now." Come on, summon that efreet a second time. I want to see it with my own eyes.

[Monodominant]

Replying as Deneth


[Replying as Irena to Deneth
“You’ll get them when I do!” Irena said with a calculated amount of annoyance. “I was just sending another messenger to expedite things when you arrived. Should be here soon. I’ll also get you a list all the objects stolen. The only thing I see in common was they were all magical items, and there was one taken from each of the seven houses, and one from the central vault.”

A guard came up to Irena and handed her a note. “I have a few other things to attend to. I’ll let you check out the crime scene, since you may not get another chance. The council wants this place locked down by the end of the day.” She turned to go, but stopped. “Thank you, Deneth,” she said, putting her hand on his arm. It had been a long time since the two had worked together. It was definitely nice to be doing so once again.

The old police man stayed silent and simply nodded at the woman as she departed.

He then set off to doing what he had done thousands of times before. Searching for clues or evidence. He scoured the place looking to deduce where the thief had gotten in and how but also trying to trace his moves from beginning to end...

If he was as good as they said... why did he have to kill the guards? Could he not have avoided them or bypassed them? Something darker was happening here... perhaps Zane himself had not known about this.

The fact that the man had left a note... well... what was to say that it wasnt someone that WANTED it to seem as if it had been Zane! Not to say that the rogue didnt steal everything but perhaps somehow the theft also went on to support or work towards someone elses goal?

All these questions pass through his mind as he spends as long as he is allowed in the vaults and surrounding area.

[Vesth]

KimZahn



Replying as Zane to KimZahn and Greenwing
Zane was cursing. There goes that plan. He wanted one illusion, not…Gods…hundreds? It was near impossible to move around without bumping into people now, but no one seemed to notice as he weaved through the shocked crowd. They were a bit preoccupied with the fact that everyone looked like him. Some Zane’s were gnawing on their hands as they passed, others crawling around on the ground. One Zane bit another on the ear, and the victim let out an eerie scream - eerie because it sounded like Zane’s voice.

“Wait. They sound like me? What did you…? These are either really good illusions or you’ve actually changed them into me.” He glanced around an each of them had a bag like his, clothes like his, even down to the bracelet on his left wrist. Well, if anyone didn’t know what I looked like, they do now.
Then the brawling began. Ahead the gates had closed. It seemed the right response after an entire area of people began to look miraculously like a known fugitive. People were protesting at the gate. Some were fighting with each other. People were confused, scared, and angry. They reacted accordingly. He saw himself lying unconscious on the ground. Another of him was hitting someone in the head with a club. Other Zane’s were running in every direction, hoping to outdistance the madness. Some of the guards were trying to wrangle up a few Zanes, but at the moment it seemed futile. Well that cuts out the “thread the needle” approach, he thought with a frown. He supposed that crossing the stitch would have to do. It was a simple switch of the plan. Instead of sneaking through the gate, he’d take the place of what he’d wanted the illusion to do and climb the wall. As he climbed, he muffled a cough from some dust that must have been kicked up from the crowd. He picked a place a bit away from the gate, where there were no guards around. Still, he wasn’t sure if there were some sort of enchantments on the wall, so he was careful as he climbed up to the top. Likely if there was, they would be dedicated to keeping people out but one could never be too careful. As he stepped onto the walkway, he noticed too late the loose earth on the stone. A footprint bloomed under his invisible foot. Wonderful..”

KinZahn let out a guffaw, that resounded deeply in Zane's mind, a grating sound that can set minds on edge.

"Do you need my help again, master? After all I've already done for you? Do you want me to fight for you while you flee like the rat you are? I'll cost you..." he said smugly.

[TheAntiplanar]

Reynald

The pale sunlight of early afternoon washes over the rider. His horse tied to a nearby tree, he rests on a log. There was a peace here, in the glades beyond the walls of Aldhaven. Birdsong. He watches a fly crawl across the log, rubbing its 'hands' together. No point in contemplating it, is there? Across the clearing, Reynald watches Kirin and Arlin speaking in low whispers. The former had just come back from a little excursion, and was no doubt filling her brother in. He shrugs internally. If it was truly important, he knew he could count on them to tell him. Resting his head back on the weathered bark, Reynald stares at the open sky above. What had become of it all? His life, his home. These past few years had felt disjointed and out of place. There was no order anymore, just events. Thoughts mirror history, and he could feel the gaps between his monologues grow, threatening to consume him. His eyes begin to close.

All of a sudden, there is a jolt. The Twins are up now, glancing about into the underbrush. The shadows and light of the forest mix together, blurring his vision. After some time, Reynald finally gets a clear look. Another rider was approaching! Definitively male, young. And he looked very out of place here, in the outdoors. Sighing, Reynald gets up from his resting place.
"Good afternoon! And who might you be?"

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as Edward Zane (It's electric, boogie boogie boogie)

As soon as a footprint appears in the dust, a silvery line of energy shoots down from the air above. Zane's body is wracked with pain as it strikes his foot and his invisibility is destroyed. "Gotcha!" says the flying green dragonman as he appears out of thin air.

Sometimes, the more powerful one's magic, the less they thought about the simple things.

" If you will surrender now and turn over all your stolen goods, you will get a fair trial... one which would take a week at least to set up. Plenty of time for you to escape with your life. If not, I kill you right here and now." Come on, summon that efreet a second time. I want to see it with my own eyes.


KinZahn let out a guffaw, that resounded deeply in Zane's mind, a grating sound that can set minds on edge.

"Do you need my help again, master? After all I've already done for you? Do you want me to fight for you while you flee like the rat you are? I'll cost you..." he said smugly.
Pain raked through Edward’s body as he was suddenly attacked. He looked around and found the spell had come from a flying dragon-man that suddenly appeared. This day was just getting better and better. Edward had been ready for just about anything when coming over the wall, but a small flying green man slinging spells? The Gods must be working against him. Edward reigned in, and looked up at the attacker. He didn't have any ranged weapons that would be accurate thrown straight up that high. The dragon man would have to come down to be in attacking distance. Edward would prefer not to fight him at all if he could help it.

I wish he wasn't flying, he thought exasperatedly. And don't call me Master.


Replying as GM to Deneth

The old police man stayed silent and simply nodded at the woman as she departed.

He then set off to doing what he had done thousands of times before. Searching for clues or evidence. He scoured the place looking to deduce where the thief had gotten in and how but also trying to trace his moves from beginning to end...

If he was as good as they said... why did he have to kill the guards? Could he not have avoided them or bypassed them? Something darker was happening here... perhaps Zane himself had not known about this.

The fact that the man had left a note... well... what was to say that it wasnt someone that WANTED it to seem as if it had been Zane! Not to say that the rogue didnt steal everything but perhaps somehow the theft also went on to support or work towards someone elses goal?

All these questions pass through his mind as he spends as long as he is allowed in the vaults and surrounding area.

After prolonged time in the vaults, and Deneth's familiarity with the area from his previous stints in the noble district, Deneth recognizes something is...out of sorts. Before, every time he had entered the passages around the vaults, a...feeling had washed over him. An uneasiness. An emptiness. Like something was missing.

This time that feeling wasn't there. It felt like everything else. The only change was the adjustment of pressure. Something was wrong. VERY wrong. But he just couldn't place what.

During the course of this, a messenger delivers a sheaf of papers. It's the list Irena had promised. She also gives you a detailed list of each item that was taken:
House Deitrich - 1 Vorpal sword with house insignia on it
House Rocholl - 1 Tiara, Formerly of the Princess Rosen (unknown qualities)
House Licorta - 1 Ivory Ring bearing the Licorta Insignia (unknown qualities)
House Astrine - 1 Silver and bronze chalice - makes user hardier for a time and heal damage when drunk from.
House Thelen - 1 Deck of Cards - Listed as highly dangerous.
House Roestel - 1 Dark Book (unknown qualities)
House Widmayer - 1 Platinum Mirror - Said to be connected to luck.
Royal Vault - 1 Ivory Bracelet - Contains a powerful efreeti - listed as highly dangerous

[Exalaber]

Replying as Ander to Reynald
The pale sunlight of early afternoon washes over the rider. His horse tied to a nearby tree, he rests on a log. There was a peace here, in the glades beyond the walls of Aldhaven. Birdsong. He watches a fly crawl across the log, rubbing its 'hands' together. No point in contemplating it, is there? Across the clearing, Reynald watches Kirin and Arlin speaking in low whispers. The former had just come back from a little excursion, and was no doubt filling her brother in. He shrugs internally. If it was truly important, he knew he could count on them to tell him. Resting his head back on the weathered bark, Reynald stares at the open sky above. What had become of it all? His life, his home. These past few years had felt disjointed and out of place. There was no order anymore, just events. Thoughts mirror history, and he could feel the gaps between his monologues grow, threatening to consume him. His eyes begin to close.

All of a sudden, there is a jolt. The Twins are up now, glancing about into the underbrush. The shadows and light of the forest mix together, blurring his vision. After some time, Reynald finally gets a clear look. Another rider was approaching! Definitively male, young. And he looked very out of place here, in the outdoors. Sighing, Reynald gets up from his resting place.
"Good afternoon! And who might you be?"
Ander spots a commotion on the road ahead, and immediately snaps out of the light daze that made travel alone possible. As he cautiously aproached, he saw a rather large man lounging beside the road, flanked by two rather dangerous looking individuals, with a third man resting farther along. The man spoke, and his voice seemed confused for a second, subducted into the slight thrum of voices generated by the trees, one Ander managed to wipe the confused look off of his face, he dismounted and stated " I am Ander Alexi, you must be Reynald, I have a letter for you from the socity, I believe you will be interested" He presents an unasuming piece of parchment for the older man's inspection, then turns to tie his horse. afterwards he stands respectfully and waits for an indication from the man as to what he was to do.

[Crafty Cultist]

Malenth

Malenth is uneasy, and pacing the clearing when the new face shows itself. He had hurried to the gate without the chance to pack because he believed time was of the essence, yet now they were stopping because the old man couldn't manage a day's ride! If this was how the society operated, then joining may have been a mistake.

Malenth gives the newcomer a wary look, trying to appraise the young man, with his hand on his sword cane in case he should he try and cause trouble. Definitely from a well off family, judging from his clothes and face, but with no real air of nobility. Probably the son of some new money family, or a country type.

Hearing the young man speak, Malenth raised an eyebrow. The Alexi family were minor, but a member of their family should have more of an air to them than this. Probably some slacker who tried to use his family to get by until they cut him off. A man like that would be more of an obstacle than an ally.

Keeping close enough to act should Ander try anything, Malenth remained behind Reynald, waiting for the old man's response.

[Vesth]

KimZahn

[spoiler]
Replying as Edward Zane (It's electric, boogie boogie boogie)



Pain raked through Edward’s body as he was suddenly attacked. He looked around and found the spell had come from a flying dragon-man that suddenly appeared. This day was just getting better and better. Edward had been ready for just about anything when coming over the wall, but a small flying green man slinging spells? The Gods must be working against him. Edward reigned in, and looked up at the attacker. He didn't have any ranged weapons that would be accurate thrown straight up that high. The dragon man would have to come down to be in attacking distance. Edward would prefer not to fight him at all if he could help it.

I wish he wasn't flying, he thought exasperatedly. And don't call me Master.

"Yes....Master," KimZahn said sarcastically, "Obviously, you are not my master, because you do not keep me trapped in the bracelet and do not try to force spells out of me to help you escape, because you obviously do not need it..."

The bracelet glowed with a eerie black light, and from the ground and walls some distance away from Zane, black, rubbery tentacles bursts forth, wrapping about any of Greenwing's appendages, before slowly crushing them, and dragging Greenwing down, where more tentacles wait to entangle him.

"Try not to venture too close...it doesn't discriminate."

[planswalker]

Greenwing Drake

Tentacles. He did not like tentacles. Greenwing, for all his magic, is rather small and physically weak. He does not have the power to escape those grasping rubbery tentacles on his own. However, he saw that bracelet glow before the tentacles appeared. Perhaps he had an out yet.

"Efreet, I know you are there in that bracelet. If you dismiss the tentacles, you have my word on the honor of House Astrine that I shall not fly and allow you to grant the wish without further effort." There is a sincerity to his words which are almost supernatural. "Besides, if I'm lying to you, it shouldn't be to difficult for you to kill me and be done with it."

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as Edward to Greenwing and KimZahn

Tentacles. He did not like tentacles. Greenwing, for all his magic, is rather small and physically weak. He does not have the power to escape those grasping rubbery tentacles on his own. However, he saw that bracelet glow before the tentacles appeared. Perhaps he had an out yet.

"Efreet, I know you are there in that bracelet. If you dismiss the tentacles, you have my word on the honor of House Astrine that I shall not fly and allow you to grant the wish without further effort." There is a sincerity to his words which are almost supernatural. "Besides, if I'm lying to you, it shouldn't be to difficult for you to kill me and be done with it."

This guy was VERY bad news. The recent past had apparently caught up to him. He needed to get away from this guy quickly. After taking the liberty of "going outside of the mission", the House Astrine was likely out for blood. Fair trial my pants...Zane had made it personal the moment he had taken more than the bracelet. Either way, Zane was screwed even if he wanted to surrender. The items were stashed and not on his person. And he was more than a little concerned about the fact that the agent of Astrine was attempting to sweet talk KimZahn.

Zane ignored the quips from the efreeti. He had enough distractions. He had to admit, the efreeti was impressive. He hoped to bring it over to friendly instead of serving...perhaps the way to win it's trust was to give it what it wanted. Freedom. One thing at a time. It seemed the guards had noticed the commotion on the wall, and some were coming up the inner stair and others were coming their way from the other side of the black tentacles from the gatehouse. Zane edged toward the wall, and prepared to leap back down the way he'd come.

[planswalker]

"Efreet, consider my words: House Astrine would honor you as the might being you are, not some lapdog to grant you wishes. I do not know what constraints bind you, but consider who can offer you more: a thief, or the woman that commands a tenth of the city of Aldhaven, for now."

[Vesth]

KimZahn


"Efreet, consider my words: House Astrine would honor you as the might being you are, not some lapdog to grant you wishes. I do not know what constraints bind you, but consider who can offer you more: a thief, or the woman that commands a tenth of the city of Aldhaven, for now."

"You know Master, the half-dragon makes a point. Must have to do with superior genes." KimZahn mentally told Zane.

The offer was tempting. Very tempting. But Zane wished that he wasn't flying...and there are limits to how much he can twist a wish.

All at once, most of the tentacles vanish, leaving two that grips onto the wings tightly...there was no helping that - the nature of the spell would probably crush those wings if Greenwing didn't use his newly freed hands to break the tentacles.

"If you want more tentacles, solve my puzzle, Zane. I'm sure that your mighty and superior intellect - that can get you into a safe - will be able to solve this easily.

I can flutter and take your breath away. I can take a beating, but do not bruise. If I stopped you would be sure to lose. Everyday I am with you. What am I?"

[planswalker]

Greenwing uses this opportunity to devour the magic with the shame spell he used to remove the invisibility. Destroying this effect burns his wings and leaves them tender, but they'll be fit for flying tomorrow. He can walk until then.

Now if only he knew what the efreet wanted, he'd get it to him. Jana's little plot has already gotten more complicated than he liked, and he really didn't like how messy these things were getting.

[Forever Curious]

Replying as Drakain to Elif

Work was slow in the slums. Didn’t used to be this way. Nah, there was a time where crime was much more rampant and organized. Now that the council had cut off the head of several leading groups in the slums, it was getting to be pretty hard for lowlifes like Drakain. The fighting pits were still around, so the gambling was good, but even those were being slowly pushed out of city. One of the large pits had already moved to Brunsgrove, and it had taken its toll. Honest criminals everywhere had to get real jobs and a darn shame that was. Taking a long swig of ale (who cares what time it was?) he slumped back in his chair. As the mug fell from his gaze, a catfolk vixen from the fighter pits appeared. She was looking at him as she approached.

“Zane…only thing I know about any Zane is that he stepped on an anthill. All the gates into the city proper have been slowed to a crawl, as they check each person for him. Apparently they think he’s still in the city.” He scratched the back of his head, quelling an itch. “But if he stole from the council like they say, I’d be far away from the city by now.” There would be tons of people Drakain would never want hunting him in that situation. “Still,” he added, “I hope he ain’t. I’d like to shake the guy’s hand for pulling a fast one on those guys. Council needed to be taken down a peg.”

Elif nods, taking in the man's words. "Thank you," she replies curtly, her face softening to a slight smile as she stands. If the guards think he's still in Aldhaven, odds are he is. She quickly exits the tavern and makes her way toward her logical destination: the East Gate.

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as Zane to Greenwing and KimZahn

Zane didn't like how messy things were getting. He did a double take as the agent of Astrine's imprisionment was mostly lifted.

Let's not forget that this one with the 'superior genes' is directed by a house that had you locked in a safe for decades. They just want you back, he thought to the powerful creature.

The guards we getting a bit too close. He looked down the ladder and saw that a guard was climbing it hastily. The dragon-man hand shed his wings. If he jumped outside of the wall, he might break a leg. Not only that, but it was pretty open on the outside of the city. He'd likely get shot down before he got far. That meant it was back into Aldhaven for him. Then the efreeti really got his attention.

I can flutter and take your breath away. I can take a beating, but do not bruise. If I stopped you would be sure to lose. Everyday I am with you. What am I?"

A riddle. Zane loved riddles. He'd been known to leave riddles in the past. He'd left one for the authorities when he'd stolen from the houses. So when the efreeti started the riddle, he instantly perked up.

The subject of the riddle could kill you. It was always with you. Flutter...a distraction. Suggesting wings while not really. Beating...ah. That was the tell. And it all fit. Zane smiled, and reached for his belt.

"A heart," he said, aiming a throwing dagger at the dragonman's respectively. Then in one swell motion, he began sliding down the ladder at the guard who was ascending it. Hopefully the momentum was enough to dislodge him.

[planswalker]

Replying as Zane to Greenwing and KimZahn

Zane didn't like how messy things were getting. He did a double take as the agent of Astrine's imprisionment was mostly lifted.

Let's not forget that this one with the 'superior genes' is directed by a house that had you locked in a safe for decades. They just want you back, he thought to the powerful creature.

The guards we getting a bit too close. He looked down the ladder and saw that a guard was climbing it hastily. The dragon-man hand shed his wings. If he jumped outside of the wall, he might break a leg. Not only that, but it was pretty open on the outside of the city. He'd likely get shot down before he got far. That meant it was back into Aldhaven for him. Then the efreeti really got his attention.

I can flutter and take your breath away. I can take a beating, but do not bruise. If I stopped you would be sure to lose. Everyday I am with you. What am I?"

A riddle. Zane loved riddles. He'd been known to leave riddles in the past. He'd left one for the authorities when he'd stolen from the houses. So when the efreeti started the riddle, he instantly perked up.

The subject of the riddle could kill you. It was always with you. Flutter...a distraction. Suggesting wings while not really. Beating...ah. That was the tell. And it all fit. Zane smiled, and reached for his belt.

"A heart," he said, aiming a throwing dagger at the dragonman's respectively. Then in one swell motion, he began sliding down the ladder at the guard who was ascending it. Hopefully the momentum was enough to dislodge him.

Greenwing Drake

Being a rather small target, he dodges the blow and breathes out a line of fire to try to catch the thief before he can make it down the ladder.

"Give it up, Zane. You were contacted by my subordinate to steal the bracelet for House Astrine. When you crossed us and looted other valuables as well, that got every noble family in the Council of Ten involved. The Council could have been appeased with just the return of the bracelet by Countess Jana, less the efreet inside it. Now only blood will do. If you had been smart, you could have retired wealthy. Now, alas, you must die."

[Vesth]

KimZahn


Replying as Zane to Greenwing and KimZahn

Zane didn't like how messy things were getting. He did a double take as the agent of Astrine's imprisionment was mostly lifted.

Let's not forget that this one with the 'superior genes' is directed by a house that had you locked in a safe for decades. They just want you back, he thought to the powerful creature.

The guards we getting a bit too close. He looked down the ladder and saw that a guard was climbing it hastily. The dragon-man hand shed his wings. If he jumped outside of the wall, he might break a leg. Not only that, but it was pretty open on the outside of the city. He'd likely get shot down before he got far. That meant it was back into Aldhaven for him. Then the efreeti really got his attention.

I can flutter and take your breath away. I can take a beating, but do not bruise. If I stopped you would be sure to lose. Everyday I am with you. What am I?"

A riddle. Zane loved riddles. He'd been known to leave riddles in the past. He'd left one for the authorities when he'd stolen from the houses. So when the efreeti started the riddle, he instantly perked up.

The subject of the riddle could kill you. It was always with you. Flutter...a distraction. Suggesting wings while not really. Beating...ah. That was the tell. And it all fit. Zane smiled, and reached for his belt.

"A heart," he said, aiming a throwing dagger at the dragonman's respectively. Then in one swell motion, he began sliding down the ladder at the guard who was ascending it. Hopefully the momentum was enough to dislodge him.

"Wrong, you fool. What am I? I'm an Efreeti. Do I look like a heart to you? Such a simple question...

And anyway, isn't the rest of it true? I can flutter and take your breath away with the appropriate spells, I can polymorph into a non-living thing, and I won't bruise, and if I stop helping you, is there any doubt you would have lost?" he mocked.

But still, Zane made a very good point. For all he knew, Greenwing could be trying to fool him, and just store him back in the vault. At the very least, with Zane, he could manipulate, or at the very least, allievate the boredom of several centuries. What a tough decision...won't stop him from trying to bargain with both of them though.

Anyway, it's not like he could take his material form again just yet. Going against the enchantments in the bracelet took a lot of energy, curse the lot of them.

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as Edward Zane to Greenwing and KimZahn

Greenwing Drake
Being a rather small target, he dodges the blow and breathes out a line of fire to try to catch the thief before he can make it down the ladder.

"Give it up, Zane. You were contacted by my subordinate to steal the bracelet for House Astrine. When you crossed us and looted other valuables as well, that got every noble family in the Council of Ten involved. The Council could have been appeased with just the return of the bracelet by Countess Jana, less the efreet inside it. Now only blood will do. If you had been smart, you could have retired wealthy. Now, alas, you must die."

"Wrong, you fool. What am I? I'm an Efreeti. Do I look like a heart to you? Such a simple question...

And anyway, isn't the rest of it true? I can flutter and take your breath away with the appropriate spells, I can polymorph into a non-living thing, and I won't bruise, and if I stop helping you, is there any doubt you would have lost?" he mocked.

But still, Zane made a very good point. For all he knew, Greenwing could be trying to fool him, and just store him back in the vault. At the very least, with Zane, he could manipulate, or at the very least, allievate the boredom of several centuries. What a tough decision...won't stop him from trying to bargain with both of them though.

Anyway, it's not like he could take his material form again just yet. Going against the enchantments in the bracelet took a lot of energy, curse the lot of them.


In one breath, the little green man had told him to 'give up' and then 'die'. Clearly not the worlds greatest negotiator. And then he was breathing fire.

The fire blast caught Edward in the arm, singeing it. The smell of burnt hair filled the air as he slid down the ladder. It was fortunate he had moved when he did, or it might have gone farther than lightly hurting him. However, being that he was now sliding with one hand, and nursing the other, his rate of decent was far from safe. He careened down the ladder and into the guard who was climbing it. The collision caused both to fall to the ground hard. Zane winced as the air was knocked from him. That was going to leave a mark. The guard had landed on his back and was in much more pain than Zane. It wasn't clear where the officer was injured, but it appeared that for the moment he would cause no threat. "You realize that if you kill me you'll never find where the items are, right?" he shouted up the twenty foot wall.

KimZahn's riddle had been a trick, of course. Edward should have guessed there would have been a twist, the efreeti had been twisting everything all day. A good riddle only had one answer, not many. "You've hardly been with me everyday," he responded. As he listened to the efreeti preen himself, Edward moved up to the wall and hugged it. He kept a watchful eye to the top of the wall, and began edging back toward the gate.

[planswalker]

Greenwing Drake

Greenwing did not respond, merely re-cast his invisibility charm and looked over the edge of the wall. Zane's voice had been close. There was time yet to salvage things. Worst case scenario, he gets the fool to grant a third wish, and the next marqued agent would succeed where he died. If so, he had complete faith in Jana to be able to see the larger picture through. He'd trained her for over 50 years now in order to be able to do just that. He had been looking forward to seeing her oldest, Janos, succeed her one day and advising him as he had her mother, and perhaps even his child one day. He didn't know how long his draconic heritage would allow him to live, but he was currently over 70 and still had the vigor and health he did when he came to this city.

Realizing how fatalistic his thoughts were, he snapped himself out of it. The fool thief was on the run, wounded, and desparate. He was Greenwing Drake, marqued agent and lifelong companion to Countess Jana Astrine, most powerful woman in the most powerful city in the land. This thief would not live to hear the bell toll the next hour, while he would survive the next century.

[Vesth]

KimZahn


Replying as Edward Zane to Greenwing and KimZahn




In one breath, the little green man had told him to 'give up' and then 'die'. Clearly not the worlds greatest negotiator. And then he was breathing fire.

The fire blast caught Edward in the arm, singeing it. The smell of burnt hair filled the air as he slid down the ladder. It was fortunate he had moved when he did, or it might have gone farther than lightly hurting him. However, being that he was now sliding with one hand, and nursing the other, his rate of decent was far from safe. He careened down the ladder and into the guard who was climbing it. The collision caused both to fall to the ground hard. Zane winced as the air was knocked from him. That was going to leave a mark. The guard had landed on his back and was in much more pain than Zane. It wasn't clear where the officer was injured, but it appeared that for the moment he would cause no threat. "You realize that if you kill me you'll never find where the items are, right?" he shouted up the twenty foot wall.

KimZahn's riddle had been a trick, of course. Edward should have guessed there would have been a twist, the efreeti had been twisting everything all day. A good riddle only had one answer, not many. "You've hardly been with me everyday," he responded. As he listened to the efreeti preen himself, Edward moved up to the wall and hugged it. He kept a watchful eye to the top of the wall, and began edging back toward the gate.

"But is there any doubt? I've been with you for a few hours, and it looks like you already needed my help to get you past the gate - and now, I bet you're going to wish your wound away, isn't that right?" he said in a consending tone.

The bracelet lit up, several runes becoming visible as they turn, a complicated mass of lines that shudder and move before disappearing once more

"But helpless or not, you did give the second best answer to the riddle, for that, I'm still compelled to do something for you...I'll tell you what. Swear your soul that you'll try your best to help me out of this bracelet as soon as you're out of the city, and I'll heal your wound for you."

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as Edward Zane (Yar, Mateys) to Greenwing and KimZahn
Greenwing Drake
Greenwing did not respond, merely re-cast his invisibility charm and looked over the edge of the wall. Zane's voice had been close. There was time yet to salvage things. Worst case scenario, he gets the fool to grant a third wish, and the next marqued agent would succeed where he died. If so, he had complete faith in Jana to be able to see the larger picture through. He'd trained her for over 50 years now in order to be able to do just that. He had been looking forward to seeing her oldest, Janos, succeed her one day and advising him as he had her mother, and perhaps even his child one day. He didn't know how long his draconic heritage would allow him to live, but he was currently over 70 and still had the vigor and health he did when he came to this city.

Realizing how fatalistic his thoughts were, he snapped himself out of it. The fool thief was on the run, wounded, and desparate. He was Greenwing Drake, marqued agent and lifelong companion to Countess Jana Astrine, most powerful woman in the most powerful city in the land. This thief would not live to hear the bell toll the next hour, while he would survive the next century.


"But is there any doubt? I've been with you for a few hours, and it looks like you already needed my help to get you past the gate - and now, I bet you're going to wish your wound away, isn't that right?" he said in a consending tone.

The bracelet lit up, several runes becoming visible as they turn, a complicated mass of lines that shudder and move before disappearing once more

"But helpless or not, you did give the second best answer to the riddle, for that, I'm still compelled to do something for you...I'll tell you what. Swear your soul that you'll try your best to help me out of this bracelet as soon as you're out of the city, and I'll heal your wound for you."
Catching his breath, he saw no sign of the dragon-man. That was worse than him barreling down on him, Zane's opinion. At least if he was being pursued he'd know where the green man was. Presently, he could be rushing to the gate to cut him off, turned invisible and sneaking up on him, preparing to pounce, regrowing his wings... The point was that he wasn't attacking meant he was doing something else.

Zane listened to the efreeti and returned in private thought, Currently, the burn isn't so bad. However, in short order I could be experiencing much worse, or even death. However, it seems we both want the same thing: To be free. I counter propose that I will wish you free when I am safely away from this mess and a distance from the city with the items from the theft. The condition is should I take a wound that would kill me or incapacitate me in my escape that you heal me then. This burn is mild. The next could be much worse.

While he continued edging along the wall he kept an eye behind him, toward the ladder he'd come down on. The gate was closer. He eyed the crowds and yards that seperated the wall from the city buildings. Some of the people who looked like him had dispersed into the city, others were still milling around or fighting each other. Some had even started attacking the guards, who have been trying to apprehend them. More guards were rushing in from the city to help deal with the situation. "Well, here goes nothing," he murmured to himself. Things were about to get interesting. He readied himself for his next action.

[planswalker]

Greenwing Drake

Greenwing will follow along the wall invisibly as Zane approaches the gate. Then, as Zane prepares to make his strike, another torrent of flame barrels down to engulf him from above, the little green dragonman revealing himself as his charm fades away.

"Guards! This is the true Zane! You can tell him apart from the fakes because his arm has been burned. He is armed and highly dangerous! Kill on sight!" He calls out.

[Vesth]

KimZahn


Replying as Edward Zane (Yar, Mateys) to Greenwing and KimZahn


Catching his breath, he saw no sign of the dragon-man. That was worse than him barreling down on him, Zane's opinion. At least if he was being pursued he'd know where the green man was. Presently, he could be rushing to the gate to cut him off, turned invisible and sneaking up on him, preparing to pounce, regrowing his wings... The point was that he wasn't attacking meant he was doing something else.

Zane listened to the efreeti and returned in private thought, Currently, the burn isn't so bad. However, in short order I could be experiencing much worse, or even death. However, it seems we both want the same thing: To be free. I counter propose that I will wish you free when I am safely away from this mess and a distance from the city with the items from the theft. The condition is should I take a wound that would kill me or incapacitate me in my escape that you heal me then. This burn is mild. The next could be much worse.

While he continued edging along the wall he kept an eye behind him, toward the ladder he'd come down on. The gate was closer. He eyed the crowds and yards that seperated the wall from the city buildings. Some of the people who looked like him had dispersed into the city, others were still milling around or fighting each other. Some had even started attacking the guards, who have been trying to apprehend them. More guards were rushing in from the city to help deal with the situation. "Well, here goes nothing," he murmured to himself. Things were about to get interesting. He readied himself for his next action.

"You're in no position to counter-propose me....but I accept your decision." KimZahn said, though he had the niggling feeling something wasn't right. What was he missing?

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as Edward Zane to Weengring and ZimKahn

Greenwing Drake
Greenwing will follow along the wall invisibly as Zane approaches the gate. Then, as Zane prepares to make his strike, another torrent of flame barrels down to engulf him from above, the little green dragonman revealing himself as his charm fades away.

"Guards! This is the true Zane! You can tell him apart from the fakes because his arm has been burned. He is armed and highly dangerous! Kill on sight!" He calls out.


"You're in no position to counter-propose me....but I accept your decision." KimZahn said, though he had the niggling feeling something wasn't right. What was he missing?
The deal was struck with the efreeti, so he no longer had to worry about the influence of the dragon-man on KimZahn's spells. He just hoped he didn't come to regret it.

The familar roar of fire and blast of heat interupted his thoughts, and caused Edward to reflexively roll to the side. Still, some fire managed to catch him. His recent burn began to hurt a lot more and some blisters had appeared on his forearm. Additionally, some of his clothes were scorched. Fortunately, they were black to begin with, so it wouldn't give him away compared to others. His burned hand and arm might, if he were in a line up. He certainly had no intention to be in that situation, however.

Zane sprung his feet and began sprinting, barreling full on into the frey. He collided with several of his 'doubles', knocking many to the ground. People were shouting, angry, and hostile, and it took no trouble at all for crowd to swallow him. Ha! It's working! It's working! It's...crap.

WHAM.

The plan was to get lost in the fighting, not to be in the fighting.

KICK.

((The guards who heard Greenwing and were not already engaged begin heading toward the crowd, trying to pick Zane out from his 'dopples'. It isn't very long until a few are engaged as well.))

[planswalker]

Greenwing Drake

Greenwing quickly jumps down after Zane, rolling with the landing to reduce the impact and letting his draconic toughness take the rest of the blow. Springing to his feet, he chases after Zane, now really regretting his current lack of usable wings. This crowd worked against him at the same time it works against Zane. It would be an absolute PR nightmare for him to unleash his breath on the crowd just to get at Zane. However, if that thief so much as sneezes out a piece of magic, he'll devour it.

[Calicade]

In response to Zhin

Maticus Grap propped his right elbow in his left hand clasped his right hand across his mouth, seemingly in thought. His eyes looked rather angry as if mentally attacking a thought to death before he slowly pulled his hand away, showing a little snarl just as his hand left.

Snapping out of it slowly he stared at the large man for a moment and started.
“My only solid lead was as solid as water on a warm day. I did have a plan, but now it’s been slightly cut apart by mislead information.” He growled the last bit slightly and turned to overlook the environment they were in and quickly turned back around to eye Zhin for a moment.
“How well do you deal with alley rats?” he points his thumb back at an alley “Shouldn’t be hard for the likes of us to get information we need.”

He turned his head to look down the alley looking for possible informants, untangling his arms and placing his thumbs at the guards of his swords.

[Vesth]

KimZahn


Replying as Edward Zane to Weengring and ZimKahn


The deal was struck with the efreeti, so he no longer had to worry about the influence of the dragon-man on KimZahn's spells. He just hoped he didn't come to regret it.

The familar roar of fire and blast of heat interupted his thoughts, and caused Edward to reflexively roll to the side. Still, some fire managed to catch him. His recent burn began to hurt a lot more and some blisters had appeared on his forearm. Additionally, some of his clothes were scorched. Fortunately, they were black to begin with, so it wouldn't give him away compared to others. His burned hand and arm might, if he were in a line up. He certainly had no intention to be in that situation, however.

Zane sprung his feet and began sprinting, barreling full on into the frey. He collided with several of his 'doubles', knocking many to the ground. People were shouting, angry, and hostile, and it took no trouble at all for crowd to swallow him. Ha! It's working! It's working! It's...crap.

WHAM.

The plan was to get lost in the fighting, not to be in the fighting.

KICK.

((The guards who heard Greenwing and were not already engaged begin heading toward the crowd, trying to pick Zane out from his 'dopples'. It isn't very long until a few are engaged as well.))

"I didn't sign up for any of this - oh wait, I didn't sign up, period. Heads up, Master. Promised 'healing' spell incoming.

The bracelet flashed once more, engulfing Zane's burns in a disturbing purple light...and nothing happened. The wound didn't disappear, it didn't hurt less, it didn't look any better.

At least until Zane got punched.

As flesh touched flesh, the purple glow flowed, moving at an amazing speed as it transferred from one recipient to the next. And where Zane no longer had the burn marks, the other unforunate attacker did...but over his face instead of his arm as the purple light dissipitated.

"I think getting burned is the same as being incapacitated, don't you think? If you can't use that arm because of the burn, that is. I'm not very clear on human anatomy. Do you die when people cut off your arm?"

[SamBurke]

Zhin of the Heaven Clan, Responding to Maticus Grasp

In response to Zhin

Maticus Grap propped his right elbow in his left hand clasped his right hand across his mouth, seemingly in thought. His eyes looked rather angry as if mentally attacking a thought to death before he slowly pulled his hand away, showing a little snarl just as his hand left.

Snapping out of it slowly he stared at the large man for a moment and started.
“My only solid lead was as solid as water on a warm day. I did have a plan, but now it’s been slightly cut apart by mislead information.” He growled the last bit slightly and turned to overlook the environment they were in and quickly turned back around to eye Zhin for a moment.
“How well do you deal with alley rats?” he points his thumb back at an alley “Shouldn’t be hard for the likes of us to get information we need.”

He turned his head to look down the alley looking for possible informants, untangling his arms and placing his thumbs at the guards of his swords.

Most troubling news... now no lead remains. Still, alley way rumors would serve well... "I deal with them well enough." The spines on his back flex outward a bit, leaving the warrior standing yet taller, yet broader than he even had before.

A yelling and screaming tore through the air, some sort of commotion at the gates. "Perhaps there is the place to start?" Running along with the shadier warrior, he stops at the top of the hill overlooking the gate.

"This could be interesting... very interesting indeed."

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Replying as Zane to Drake and Zhan

Greenwing quickly jumps down after Zane, rolling with the landing to reduce the impact and letting his draconic toughness take the rest of the blow. Springing to his feet, he chases after Zane, now really regretting his current lack of usable wings. This crowd worked against him at the same time it works against Zane. It would be an absolute PR nightmare for him to unleash his breath on the crowd just to get at Zane. However, if that thief so much as sneezes out a piece of magic, he'll devour it.

"I didn't sign up for any of this - oh wait, I didn't sign up, period. Heads up, Master. Promised 'healing' spell incoming.

The bracelet flashed once more, engulfing Zane's burns in a disturbing purple light...and nothing happened. The wound didn't disappear, it didn't hurt less, it didn't look any better.

At least until Zane got punched.

As flesh touched flesh, the purple glow flowed, moving at an amazing speed as it transferred from one recipient to the next. And where Zane no longer had the burn marks, the other unforunate attacker did...but over his face instead of his arm as the purple light dissipitated.

"I think getting burned is the same as being incapacitated, don't you think? If you can't use that arm because of the burn, that is. I'm not very clear on human anatomy. Do you die when people cut off your arm?"

Zane looked in horror at the most recent attacker's plight, and then failed to dodge an attack from another in the mob.

POW!

This was insane. He had to get out of this, before he was ripped apart. It was incredibly eerie to see images of himself being pounded or worse - attacking him. He then realized something interesting - he hadn't made a wish. The efreeti had assisted him "freely". That made him uneasy. He had this paranoid feeling that KimZahn was getting the advantage on him, and being that the efreeti was a being of powerful magic, that didn't sit too well.

He also didn't like the implications behind the efreeti's question. Did it honestly have no idea what could kill him? Or was he toying with me again? "Let's put it this way," he grunted at the efreeti, "I would die fairly quickly without both arms, both legs, and a head. Heavily bleeding stab wounds? Yeah, those aren't good either. Perhaps we should make a code word for when I'm very injured...maybe a hand motion?"

Zane began fighting back, landing punches in places they would incapacitate or stun while he moved through the crowd. On a one on one, he'd easily be able to come out of a fight unscathed, but in a full scale brawl he was taking several punches as he went.

Replying as the DM to Elif

Elif nods, taking in the man's words. "Thank you," she replies curtly, her face softening to a slight smile as she stands. If the guards think he's still in Aldhaven, odds are he is. She quickly exits the tavern and makes her way toward her logical destination: the East Gate.

The north gate across the river which heads into the city proper has been closed and is filtering people slowly through in either direction. This gate is closest to the scene of Edward Zane's crime. The whole river bridge is clogged with the conjestion of what might be an hours wait or more. One might have better luck going around the exterior of the city and coming to the east gate from the outside.

[Calicade]

Zhin of the Heaven Clan, Responding to Maticus Grasp


Most troubling news... now no lead remains. Still, alley way rumors would serve well... "I deal with them well enough." The spines on his back flex outward a bit, leaving the warrior standing yet taller, yet broader than he even had before.

A yelling and screaming tore through the air, some sort of commotion at the gates. "Perhaps there is the place to start?" Running along with the shadier warrior, he stops at the top of the hill overlooking the gate.

"This could be interesting... very interesting indeed."

On the heels of Zhin, Maticus followed without missing a step. He had already gripped the hilt of his swords and when they approached the top of the hill the sharp sound of steel against a gritty surface mounted. Maticus already had both of his blades drawn, but in a rested slacked state.

Coming to the realization of what might possibly be happening at the gate, Maticus grins his awful smile and looks at Zhin.
“Yep, Looks like our search has already been done for us.. Now all we have to do is make sure of it.” Maticus says this in a very warrior gruff like voice, as he gave a greatly critical eye to the unfolding situation below. “You don’t mind the possibility of having to cut down a few or more do you?” Maticus started to find his way to the gate, sheathing one sword and gripping the second lightly in his left hand, doesn’t seem to be in too much of a hurry.

[Vesth]

KimZahn


Replying as Zane to Drake and Zhan

Zane looked in horror at the most recent attacker's plight, and then failed to dodge an attack from another in the mob.

POW!

This was insane. He had to get out of this, before he was ripped apart. It was incredibly eerie to see images of himself being pounded or worse - attacking him. He then realized something interesting - he hadn't made a wish. The efreeti had assisted him "freely". That made him uneasy. He had this paranoid feeling that KimZahn was getting the advantage on him, and being that the efreeti was a being of powerful magic, that didn't sit too well.

He also didn't like the implications behind the efreeti's question. Did it honestly have no idea what could kill him? Or was he toying with me again? "Let's put it this way," he grunted at the efreeti, "I would die fairly quickly without both arms, both legs, and a head. Heavily bleeding stab wounds? Yeah, those aren't good either. Perhaps we should make a code word for when I'm very injured...maybe a hand motion?"

Zane began fighting back, landing punches in places they would incapacitate or stun while he moved through the crowd. On a one on one, he'd easily be able to come out of a fight unscathed, but in a full scale brawl he was taking several punches as he went.

From afar, it seemed like a silent dance, the twirling folk in pink and red, trading places, exchanging partners. It seemed almost serene, a quiet, moving art, where the dance is the only thing happening for miles.

A moving clockwork of complicated parts...but a deadly one.

On closer inspection, the sounds of horror and fear can be heard, where sword hits steel, cuts flesh and seperates bone. Tears mingle with the droplets of blood, forming a huge canvas on the soil, dropping bodies forming contours, lines, shapes, whispering the thoughts of regret, anger and hate.

And within the seemingly chaotic mass of movement, both forwards, backwards and downwards, a single desperate man can be seen, zipping with agility and speed, dodging a blade here, and sickle there. Zane was the catalyst, the cause of chaos and death in this seemingly meaningless battle. He was the one they wanted, he was the one who had what they needed.

And some kept the sense of mind to remember that.

From within the crowd, a crossbolt zips through the air, which Zane quickly sidestepped...just to face a wooden pole to the face. As the blow struck Zane's jaw, sending him to the ground, a third attack squeezes through the crowd, a huge beefy man, muscular and strong, tossing a spear that Zane could not dodge.

As it punctured through skin and lung, the towering man drew a second weapon, a huge broadsword, and silently grinned down at the downed man, lifting it with amazing strength.

However, as the final blow falls, the bracelet glowed an unearthy purple...and the blade struck stone.

"Zane, this is why you need my help. Even babies can survive better than you."

In front of his eyes, the purple light flowed over the wound, carrying away the pain and the blood, replacing it with some grey, solid substance. As the huge blade struck it, the weapon stopped...and the greyness creeped over it.

Eyes widening, the huge man tried to pull back the blade...but it didn't move and inch, and thinking quickly, he released his grip and jumped back to a safe distance, drawing a small knife as his third weapon.

The sword turned completely grey...and then shattered into a million pieces of stone.

"Hugh, be careful. Let Toravor fire the first shot." the thin and wiry pole-wielding man said, and the muscular man nodded.