The Shadow In The Deeps IC

[Vegna]

Welcome to The Shadow In the Deeps IC Thread, adventurers :smallbiggrin:

For ages untold, the people of the Great Archipelago have lived between the Lipless Mouth and the Blue Wastes, between crushing death and trackless ocean. Some ask if there used to be larger plains of earth, perhaps one that would take days to cross as the gull flies, but if they exist, they are far beyond our reach.

The Lipless Mouth is a tremendous maelstrom that sits at the heart of the many islands, its pull making travel difficult for large ships and impossible for smaller vessels that approach it. Even those that attempt to fly across can easily drop into the vacuum that strips the air of its buoyancy. The passage grows slower, but relatively safer towards the Wastes, though it is still the hunting ground of pirates or other creatures that dwell in its skies and waters. The Blue Wastes refers to the great body of water beyond the Archipelago, where no islands have yet been found. Some people occasionally mount expeditions to find even the smallest spot of dirt outside of the known world, but all such explorers have either returned fruitless or not at all.

The countless islands that orbit the sea’s maw are host to cultures and creatures that have all eked out a life here, either as traders, explorers or even turning to piracy. With a land’s potential for food, materials or even high class property, an untapped island can be both a figurative and literal gold mine. Equally likely, they can quickly become a death trap as the unknown crawls out from beneath the sands to meet you. Krakens are one of the most dangerous known obstacles that any sailor must be wary, as they potentially grow to a size that allows them to be mistaken for an arid island, only to devour the unfortunate landing party and then the rest.

One of the most prominent, but fatalistic, faiths is known as the cult of the Hungry God who’s worshippers exist in some form across the entire edge of the maelstrom, typically as close as they can achieve without being sucked in themselves. They believe that we are on the verge of the end of the world, as all will inevitably be drawn into their deity’s crushing grasp. The Hydra is their mark, as the ever multiplying mouths of the sea-dwelling beasts reflect their views perfectly.

The blue-eyed Jolly Roger is a feared sign for many traders and adventurers, as it’s the mark of Eyeless Jack’s pirates. Said to have journeyed beyond the Blue Waste, he lost his crew to starvation and his eyes for the price of what knowledge lies beyond, replaced with glowing, blue orbs that never sleep. Whether or not he is real, his pirates certainly are, the ships raiding fleet and port with ferocity and speed, long gone by the time any help can arrive. Their vessels are enchanted for speed and durability, the largest and most battle scarred one being Jack’s, some even saying it has no crew, only the undying captain in his cabin.

The Marines of Gareth are one of the few altruistic groups that exist this side of the Archipelago, offering to protect islands that can afford nothing else. Followers of the watchman and saint, Gareth of Tyberus, the marines patrol the sea and coasts on the lookout for pirates or sea monsters that threaten the people of fledgling ports or fishing villages. Armed with their stone tridents and the holy gifts of their saint, they have amassed a notable following and have been known affectionately by the locals as the “Aqua Marines”.

Bardocas is the trading hub of the northern sector of the Great Archipelago, a massive port that stretches over five miles across its entire island and is the place to buy, enjoy or find whatever you need. Its streets bustle with traders of adamantite, information brokers and pleasure houses of more races than you can pay for, its ports packed constantly day and night with bloated hulls of goods to sell or take home. There is no law beside your own, but its siren call of opportunity still brings beings from all backgrounds into its hive of civilisation and it is here at Bardocas where you begin your tale.

1. What game system are you running (D&D, Call of Cthulu, Palladium, GURPS, etc.), and if applicable what edition (Original, Classic, Revised, 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 5th, 10th, etc.)?

This will be a free-form game.

2. What 'type' or variant of game will it be (i.e. "Shadow Chasers" or "Agents of Psi" for d20 Modern)? What is the setting for the game (eg. historic period, published or homebrewed campaign setting, alternate reality, modern world, etc.)?

The setting is home-brewed, the relative genre being medieval fantasy with a sea-faring twist. The game is set in the countless islands of the Great Archipelago, an enormous circular region consisting of thousands of independent land masses no larger than a day’s stride across. At the centre of this multitude of reef waits the Lipless Mouth, a tremendous maelstrom that is the peril of sailor and gull alike. With such a large area open for adventure and various differences, the players are free to claim an island or two for their own backstory, the only restriction being they must come from somewhere in the Great Archipelago. Character designs should be discussed first with the DM, to be sure that they are suitable with my outline of the setting.

3. How many Players are you looking for? Will you be taking alternates, and if so, how many?

I would like to grab around six players, though if I feel I can handle the numbers, I may re-open the game to more. Only one character per player, feel free to create additional friends and allies, but their actions and responses will be under the DM’s control. Selection will be made by choosing the characters most interesting and appropriate to me, so even if we have six players available, but one character is an alien from the planet of Cibear-Punnk, we will be starting with five players.

4. What's the gaming medium (OOTS, chat, e-mail etc.)?

We will be using the OOTS boards. I will try to post once a week, or if I have the time, twice a week.

5. What is the characters' starting status (i.e. experience level)?

The character’s status can be as varied as you wish. The choice to be a kindly Samaritan, a rough tempered brute or an empty eyed husk is all yours.

A player’s initial power level can be anywhere between Average Joe to a fireball slinging Pirate Lord up towards a living incarnation of a Lightning Storm. I personally recommend a lower scale character, with potential for growth but I will not stop you from deciding to be a Lightning Storm.

6. How much gold or other starting funds will the characters begin with?

Same as your status, the choice is yours. All I can say is though, the more you bring to the table, the more you stand to lose.

7. Are there any particular character classes, professions, orders, etc. that you want... or do not want? What are your rules on 'prestige' and/or homebrewed classes?

As long as it is setting appropriate, you can be whatever you want. As a side note to divine class inclined players, your powers are based on your faith and obviously beyond mortal origin, but no god or herald of a deity has been seen or recorded in known history. Only the prophets of the various churches and their divine gifts give proof to a higher being.
Otherwise, go nuts, as long as you understand your own enemy will be even stronger for the bar you set.

8. What races, subraces, species, etc. are allowed for your game? Will you allow homebrewed races or species? 'Prestige' races or species?

The world is open and varied, be what you want and there will be an island for it.

9. By what method should Players generate their attributes/ability scores and Hit Points?

It’s a free-form game, so no need. Just take into account what your character can do and what is the point where those skills and powers are stretched to breaking point.

10. Does your game use alignment? What are your restrictions, if so?

You should decide what your character’s ethics, codes, do’s and do nots, as well as what it would take for them to break them. Beyond that, character vs. character is heavily discouraged and a character who will not work with others, or at the very least, not leave the other characters be will suffer the luck of the Black Spot.

11. Do you allow multi-classing, or have any particular rules in regards to it?

Again, as the game is free-form, there are no limits on what you want to make. Holy rangers that fire acid bolts are just as possible as to the fighter who can’t cast anything more than “Power Word: Hit it with a Mallet”.

12. Will you be doing all of the die rolling during the course of the game? Will die rolls be altered, or left to the honour system? If players can make die rolls, which ones do they make, how should they make the rolls, and how should they report them?

No dice rolls, only the quality of a player’s post and the feasibility of the character’s actions will decide success or failure. You don’t need to worry about posting a huge amount, but a well-written description of your character performing within their limits will make the chance for success much higher.

13. Are there any homebrewed or optional/variant rules that your Players should know about? If so, list and explain them, or provide relevant links to learn about these new rules.

There are no particular rules that need to be followed, either during character creation or during the game. However, obviously standard forum board behaviour is expected: as the DM I have final say, no copyrighted material, actions should be described in good taste, etc. I think we all know how to conduct ourselves on the boards so this shouldn’t be a problem.

14. Is a character background required? If so, how big? Are you looking for anything in particular (i.e. the backgrounds all ending up with the characters in the same city)?

Your character background is required, and since that will be one of the big things I will be looking at when deciding who will make up our cast, some effort should be expended on it. Again, this doesn’t need to be of novel length and quality, but all the basic questions posed below in the “character template” section should be answered.

15. Does your game involve a lot of hack & slash, puzzle solving, roleplaying, or a combination of the above?

A bit of everything, there will be swash-buckling with the various factions of the Great Archipelago, interaction with the characters and perhaps a little outwitting the enemies set against you.

16. Are your Players restricted to particular rulebooks and supplements, or will you be allowing access to non-standard material? What sources can Players use for their characters?

Again, other than the limits of no copyrighted material and good taste, players should feel free to go nuts. Interesting and original characters only add to the flavour of the world and are heartily encouraged.



Ok, so obviously despite being freeform there needs to be a few simple rules so everyone can make sense of what’s going on.

1) Post Format

You can post any way you like, just make sure its readable. The standard board form is encouraged: normal text being actions, italics being thoughts, “quotations and colour being used for speech”, etc. Feel free to choose a character colour or none at all, just decide between yourselves.

2) God-Modding

As long as your character is performing within their listed ability level, whether with single-handedly taking down a hydra or knitting a fabulous scarf, you should succeed with only as many injuries as reasonable. But taking on something that is beyond them will result in either utter failure (with an explanation why), success with some degree of cost (such as a broken sword) or complete success because it was so entertaining to read that I let you get away with it. Whilst you can state your intended effect on the NPCs, outright control is likely to be ignored unless it is suitable.

If anyone still has any concerns about this, please feel free to PM me with additional questions or post in the OOC thread.

3) The DM is Final Adjudicator

All of my DM posts are final, unless there has been severe miscommunication. I will talk to you via PM if I feel your behaviour is interfering with the other player's enjoyment of the game. If you feel I am acting too severely, likewise then please PM so we don't clutter the OOC with discussion on semantics.

4) Post Regularly, Or At Least Give A Head’s Up

I'll post around once a week, with all characters in a single block. If you've posted that week, you get your DM post, if not, you'll have to try again next week. Should a player go missing for a month without notice, I will assume they're unable to play any longer and I will accept if other people wish to join the game instead.
If you guys have formed a group, I will post a single DM reply between all of you. Only one player of the group needs to post, but the rest will be NPC'd and potter around being useless until you take control again.

5) No Player vs. Player

With a variety of power levels and resources between players, whilst there may be an obvious decision over who would win in the fight, that does not mean it is fair to reduce another player’s enjoyment of a game “because that’s what my character would do.” Characters who dislike one another can feel free to ignore on another, but back-stabbing and PvP combat are not part of playing the game. If you’ve got a murderous streak, I’m sure the quick-witted rogue you met can either see it a mile off (as PCs notice those things) or you can compete and he’ll become your fast-friend.

6) Life Sucks, Then You Die

It is possible that various player characters will die. If this is for some bizarre plot situation or the character has been backed into an inescapable corner due to reasons not entirely self-inflicted, I will contact the player of that character and we will work something out (a new character, visitations from beyond the grave, resurrection later by an outside force, whatever).

If, however, the character dies from a severe lack of regular posting or because their most recent course of action was just plain stupid (such as charging into a room full of elite guards armed only with a rusty spoon), chances are good that the character is going to stay dead. If that character’s player is still interested in playing, then they are free to make a brand new character with which to escape with. Hopefully, this new character will have a better sense of judgement and/or more regular posting. :smallgrin: Players whose characters die for plot reasons also have this option if desired.

I think that about covers it. Additional rules may be added from time to time as new bridges are crossed, so check back every now and then!

[Vegna]

Welcome to Bardocas

Sitting almost exactly halfway between the Lipless Mouth and the Blue Wastes is the trade city of Bardocas. Founded first an iron mine, then an outpost for prospectors, before finally becoming the first hub for black powder trade in the Northern sector. Since then, merchants have established their fortunes on this island, and it has only grown fatter on the riches that pass through its streets.

In the warm summer night, Bardocas’ people remain as active as ever, the great trade city unperturbed by the star-lit sky. The island glows in the light of its busy workers, even from those just making port can hear the endless rumble of laughter, arguing and a dozen other forms of communication. Houses and stores cover every inch of the mile-wide island, the great stone palaces of the merchant lords rise at the centre as the silent counters of coin. Beneath their watchers, countless wooden structures stretch onto the coast’s edge, pressed together for precious space as wagons snake between them.

The bustling docks expand the island further, as half a dozen bloated galleons share a single Lords' pier, another squeezing a round twenty cogs against a dilapidated collection of wooden panels. Their shadows all lost in the turbulence they create in the waters, the sea dancing between flame and abyss around this hub of the Great Archipelago. A place where anyone can find anyone or anything, and where anything can happen to them . . .

PseudoStraw
You could almost smell the wealth of the island, tainted with the stink of land-dweller. Once you had nearly drowned the ship’s look-out for grabbing your person, the rest of the journey had been pleasantly uneventful. And as you tossed the coin-purse in your palm, he was now treating you to whatever his few coins could buy.

With little left in your plan beyond finding a way to the Maelstrom, you make a slow lap of the city on its beach front to get a view of it. Its water are muddied with the filth of the island’s waste, driftwood and the occasional drunken body. The wooden huts that line the beach’s edge are half abandoned or rotten, as blankets are thrown over gaps in the buildings, en lieu of any repairs. As wealthy as the city is, you notice there are still the bottom-feeders, clinging to the edge. You also notice the splashing of three pairs of feet behind you, keeping pace with your steps.
A gruff voice calls out to you,

“Stop, your ladyship. It’s dangerous to be out here on your own this late.”

The voice belongs to a squat human, about five foot short and five foot wide with muscle and thick brown beard. His companions seem to be other strange shapes of human, one female with pointed ears and the other an ordinary man in battered armour, all of them carrying cheap swords at their sides. Their stance is alert, seemingly watching out for something as the waves lap at their feet, but the short one at least speaks with rough manners.

“A daughter of the Lords could be into trouble with all those trinkets you’re carrying. Someone might try to hurt you for them.”

You look at your pitiful remainder of treasure from your vast hoard, jewellery, silk clothes and your gold trimmed sword that you had never actually used. Quite rightly, they seem to have assumed for you to be someone of importance in this city, from your attire. Quite more important than they could possibly imagine. The short one seems to be eyeing the sword intently, but returns to make eye contact.

“Let’s get you off this shore and somewhere safer. We’ve got a horse and everything just down a street you can take back to your place, Milady.”

LordDeathkeeper
The stars twinkled softly overhead as you lounged on your bed, a claw running absent-mindedly over your small hoard hidden underneath. The night’s sky was your eternal ally, it set you straight when clear and never left no matter how far you journeyed. If only they could help you could shake your mounting restlessness.

For the last week, you’ve been stuck waiting for your next decent job, but the Messenger’s Guild hadn’t been forth coming. The blasted rotation of messengers meant that while everyone had work, it certainly left the quickest of the couriers bored. Your only job this week had been to deliver a letter from that blind Merchant Lord up to the Selemchant estate, a twenty minute job for a handful of coins. This isn’t the adventure you’d hoped for in Bardocas, but the Guild had treated you well. They’d provided you with a bed on top of the Guildhouse’s roof, with a weather-proof tent if it rains, and from here you could see a few streets around the city.

You could see a Lords' pier from here, with more hoard moving through it in a day than you’d had ever imagined back home. And towards the city, you could spy one of the market squares, at this time of night a hub-bub of slightly shifty peddlers and persons of ‘negotiable friendship’. Your eyes follow start to follow one of the peddlers as he attracts some attention from a pair of rugged men, maybe hunters, waving them over to his stall. You can’t tell exactly what he’s selling, but you do notice as one of the customers sweeps half of the contents into his satchel, before they both take off towards the pier.

Another dock-dash-deal, your guild-mates had pointed these out to you on your second day here. If someone wasn’t going to come back to Bardocas for a long time, occasionally you get people who grab all they can and try to grab their ship just before it leaves port. A few minutes delay could wind you up with a rough time, but if you made it, you got home scot-free. And fortunately for the robbers, their path looks pretty clear to the boats as the start to pass the Guildhouse.

Vael

“Hey, Lady Puke-Smith. Pick your guts up off of my deck, we’re portside now!”

As your quivering limbs press against the starboard side, you raise your head just higher than a stoop over your shoulder. Your vision blurs from the thousands of torches that illuminate the city, its buildings seemingly alight for a moment before your eyes refocus. The Bosun gives you a broad-handed shake on the back, bringing another wave of nausea through your stomach and out over the boat side.

You nearly fling yourself overboard to reach the pier faster, if not for the Boson holding you back. Finally docked, he gives you a rough hand shake, a knowing grin and a bit of sailor’s advice.

“Get yourself a girl, lad. Always makes me feel better after a bad sail. Get to Stern Rosie’s and told em, Harry sent you, and they’ll treat you right. The girls are soft and the ale ain’t piss.”

And with a last pat on the back, he pushes you on your way down the pier that is shaking just a little too much for comfort. As soon as your feet hit the sweet, sweet cobblestones, the painful haze over your world fades away to the bright stone of Bardocas.

Although the shaking and projectile vomiting has ended, you’re now acutely aware of how hollow your stomach is, however that wasn’t the biggest thing on your mind right now, it was where in this accursed city Collin was. He was already a couple days ahead when you had begun the voyage, but without a clear destination to your parents, he would probably just be lost and confused in the city. Perhaps you should ask around the dock masters if they’ve seen him, or maybe search for a cheap inn that he might be staying at. Your stomach growls loudly, offering its opinion for what to do next.

“Ha-ha. Hungry, Mister?”

A small boy dressed in work rags seems to step out from the crowd, standing two feet shorter than you and with a big, dirt-faced smile.

“You looked like you had your sea-legs knocked out from under you, by the looks you was givin’ the ground. You need a guide, Mister? I can show you around Bard-oh-cas for a couple copper, know the rock like the back of my hand. That’s a nice sword you got there, you a soldier, Mister? You’ll be glad with that on your hip ‘round here, not everyone is as nice as my mam.”

Kaynebot
A talking gem is in the city, a talking gem is in the city, the thought has been racing your mind for weeks now. Ever since that god awful, boring tour of the outer edge, the moment one of the passengers had started talking gems, you were interested. When he mentioned a talking gem, you were hooked. When you shook him until you made him remember where he’d heard about it, you only had one course of action left in mind. You’d sold and stolen everything you could to afford this journey, Bardocas had to have it.

In your fevered rush upon exiting your ship, you had managed to run at least five streets deep into the city before realising that you had no idea where to go next. Again, brute force would guide you in this city, as you grabbed a late-night market seller’s attention. He looked nervous when you asked him who would know about such a thing, as he denied any knowledge. He was a liar, a weak liar. When you put down the rest of his stall in one of your fitful bursts of strength, he gave up name of “Marius” and a street name.

Now as you stood outside the information broker’s ‘den’, a barnacle encrusted hall squatting beneath a poor man’s pier, you knew you would make the man inside tell you everything, one way or another. Your weeks of frustration vented on the stall, you feel much more in control of yourself again, as fresh answers await you inside. With a reassuring look at Rapture on your back, you step inside.

The room is quiet, with wooden barrels set out across the room for cheap seating. Beside the entrance, a balding man sits using another barrel as a table for his paper and quill, scribbling something as he looks up at you. At the end of the room, stands an ogre holding a piece of broken ship’s mast in front of a curtained doorway. It turns for a moment towards the curtain, as a ‘customer’ exits the concealed room, then calls out to the waiting people.

“RAY-MON’DUH GAH-ROW!”

A nervous man leaves his barrel seat, bowing to the ogre as he rushes inside. There is some murmuring amongst the handful still waiting, but none look like saying anything to the ogre. The scribe waves you over to him, with hushed tones.

“Leave the weapon at the door, Kru’Bask has orders to feed his stick to anyone who gets too close with even a butter-knife. Just leave it against my table, if you like. Now, what do you want us to call you and how much you got?”

Raunchel
“You look wonderful, my lady, I’m sure you will have them stunned. Only one more item, please hold still. ”

You’d take Ophelia’s word for it, but at least the dress’ fabric was good quality. Hopefully Lord Selemchant would appreciate the effort you were making at this dinner. This would be the third Merchant Lord to try their hand at offering their suitor sons to you, they just would not let up. As your handmaiden lowers the veil across your face, you feel her familiar presence move to your side. A young slip of a girl, but very loyal and quiet, both very important traits for people within your trusted circle.

Within your own home, you would need no guide for this event. You would greet them in your reading room, go through the motions of formality and etiquette. He would comment on the success on your enterprises, make small talk, then at the dinner attempt to present one of his two sons as a fitting match for you and an opportunity to cement your future through what children would obviously come forth from such a pairing. At least as a token to his credit, Selemchant was an entrepreneur of untouched island, many ranks richer than the fish merchant and the farming-seed producer who had already left rejected.

Taking your father’s old chair, you take a few minutes of precious time by yourself, as Ophelia leaves to greet the expectant Lord and his family. Your fingers reach for the side table, finding the small music box with the coarse lid. A gift from one of Jessili’s brief visits, its sings a soft, sad melody without words. The woman’s voice magically recorded within always brought the old feelings of life inside your dead body, as if you could cry with just little push. But you hadn’t cried since you died, and probably wouldn’t again.

A light rap at your study door gives you the time to return the gift, before Ophelia enters and announces,

“Lord Henry Selemchant, Founder of The Eastern Front. Lady Dolores Selemchant-Warwick. And Masters Edward Selemchant and Gregory Selemchant.”

The Lord’s fondness for discovering islands was often credited to a desire to taste every animal and plant possible in the entire Archipelago, his silk shirt near bursting as it tried to hold back the tide of flesh packed into his sizable stomach. The floor protests as he approaches you, creaking back and forth as he makes an effort to bow against his front.

“We are proud to be guests of your home, Lady Hastur-Vartul. My sons have been very excited to meet you in person, you are not a woman who makes public appearances often. It is such a shame, but I am glad your accepted our correspondence to give us this opportunity. I’ve been hearing great things about your work, the marble your father quarried has been put to good work. Those ‘Starving Cultists’ are just mad about the stuff, buying it by the ton for those churches of theirs. Well, a buyer is a buyer. Tell me, do you have any more endeavours on the horizon?”

GuyFawkes
“Welcome to the Midnight Auction, folks! We’ve got ships, we’ve got shops, we’ve got a dozen treasures from the Eastern Frontier and a hundred more from the bottom of the ocean floor. If you want it and you can’t get it the ‘usual’ way, it’s here waiting for you. Get your auction paddles ready, we’ll be starting in ten minutes.”

As the Auctioneer settles down, you can now return to the two pieces of arm-candy who are sharing your drinks with you. Cassandra and . . Lorey? Lara? You’re pretty sure she has an L-name behind that silk dress, though it couldn’t conceal much else. The Twins stand on watch, playing the part of the rich merchant’s bodyguards, Hanya unsuccessful in his own efforts to gain some female attention from the various gold-diggers around. Let them dig while they can, it had been too long since you’d had some proper women. Cassandra offers you your wine glass, as she purrs to you,

“So Mr Pendegraph, is it true that you mined all the gold that you own, more gold than a hundred men could dig in a hundred years?”

Lily wraps her thin fingers over one of your biceps, grasping it with a cheeky smile.

“Oh yes, Mr Pendegraph feels very strong. Muscle, money and looks. You must be blessed by gods, Mr Pendegraph.”

Kravitz stifles another laugh at their efforts, as the auctioneer returns to his podium. Cassandra places your paddle in your hand, before relaxing against your chest.

“Our first lot is a galleon of Jurian design, the same island that produces the Merchant Lords’ vessels. Also draconic enchantments are in-laid, making the vessel extremely fire-resistant with the addition of a figurehead that can blast the side off of any lesser ship in the sea. And with this beauty, that means every ship, ladies and gentlemen. A proud flagship that can put even our local Lords to shame, folks, we’ll start the bidding at forty kilos of gold or anything of equal value. Do I here forty kilos?”

Inspectre
The city is loud, so very, very loud. Even during the grandest ceremonies of your . . mother’s faith weren’t as noisy and never as chaotic. Everyone is so dirty, so crude, as they force through each other to move inside Bardocas. Vanessa told you things would be different in big cities, but this place was almost alien from the grim order of the Maw. Trying to step through the uneven streets, your first efforts to ask for “Vanessa Damont” are met with either apathy or replies that she’s “gone missing”. No one seems to know the truth yet, perhaps you had somehow arrived ahead of her?

A set of bony fingers grasps your shoulder, as you are turned towards a man clothed in black robes. They strike you as chillingly familiar, as the emblem of a pitch spiral of hydra heads rests against the man’s neck.

“She is lost to our god, young one. His appetite is unending, but without malice. Even the dust of our bones will be his in the end. It was destined that she fall to-”

The preacher is interrupted by the calls of “Lord in the Street! Make way!” The pair of you are pushed against a stone wall by the shifting crowd. Torch-bearing soldiers in steel armour march a path through the throng, followed closely by a single carriage bearing the symbols of scrolls and birds emblazoned on a shield. Again, you quickly find the preacher’s very close grasp on your arm, as he hollers at you,

“Such sinful parents to such a destined child. The Lord and Lady Damont have no moral core for their fellow citizens as much as the shark cares for the fish. Their crimes of greed have cost them their only child as recompense, and still they continue in their ways. A pox on you both, if such learned people cannot divine their True Lord’s meaning!”

As he screams at the passing carriage, he seems to have also attracted the attention of one of the armoured men. The soldier starts to barge through the crowd, using his metal lantern as a blunt aid whilst calling to the preacher,

“Silence, or by my Lordship, I will silence you, barnacle brained old man!”

Xondoure
Your temple feels like its splitting, as Asami makes extra sure that the captain’s head bandage was secured. You’re pretty sure that a bump like yours didn’t need such attention, but she was adamant.

“The first mate is in charge when the captain is of unsound mind. You took a pretty hard hit of common sense back there, need to be sure it doesn’t escape again.”

Jesse added, giving your bandage an extra sharp tug, pressing down on the bump vindictively before relaxing over the edge of the ship. Your crew had otherwise forgiven your decision, apart from this little reminder. Bardocas was one of your usual ‘off-load’ ports, a city this dirty doesn’t care about a few infamous sailors, as long as they don’t mess with the Lords’ ships. At this time of night, though the city did have a bit of its own majesty, a place of unending lights in the black sea. As the ringing in your ears dims, your bodyguard’s expression contorts in displeasure, stepping away towards you.

“The eel is heading this way, he looks sweaty. I’m heading below, call me when he’s gone, I’ve got merchants to talk to.”

It was also home to one of your slimiest fences, Mr Flynn, a man of significant coin and odour. He had tendency to pay well, in exchange for a sticky personality and rarely clean work. Whilst Jesse disappears, Asami simply stays quietly seated beside you, watching the figure approach the vessel. He rests a thick boot on the Gull’s gangplank, a fat lipped smile etched across his mouth. His arms are open, one holding a glowing, copper lantern, the other grasping a bulging coin pouch.

“Permission to come aboard, Captain? I have a very imp-portant proposition for you and a v-very generous offer. Look just let me on, alright?!”

As his heady mixture of musk and thick perfume wafts over the Blue Gull, his face seems to glisten in the lantern light, his eyes darting back to further down the pier.

[Xondoure]

Port of Bardocas, the Blue Gull

Captain Zan Darro keeps his eyes focused on mr. Flynn as he tries not to wince. Must have been Jorry. He thinks to himself. I doubt it took more than one punch. His memory is a bit blurry on what had happened. At least Asa made it back to port on her own. The girl's got talent. He stops for a second. He's forgetting something. Flynn. Right.

"Come onboard mr. Flynn. And I'll see what we can do about this proposition."

[PseudoStraw]

Mare Maris

Upon hearing the splashing of boots and the earthy dialect of the short bearded man Maris found her mind flicking from thought to thought. Sailors? No, their armour is far too heavy and their skin, while rough was not battered by the sea salt. Honest city folk? Hah, laughable. No one on this sea forgotten island was honest, not since covering the land and half the surrounded ocean in their stone and wood and metal. Then thieves. Yes. Pitiful. As their hungry eyes ran themselves over her trinkets and toys she watched half amused, half infuriated. She saw the man standing beside the pointy eared one smirk as his eyes fell on her form. She fought back a snarl and brought her attention back to their supposed small leader.

"I'm sorry, you wish to help me?" She cooed in the sweetest voice she could muster, feigning innocence and helplessness. "You are too kind my saviours but alas I have dropped my precious diamond ring in the surf and cannot find it! If you are the kind souls you say you are you would help me find my ring." She smiled the soft smile of a naive girl but laughed behind her eyes, hoping beyond all that her ruse would get them deeper into the waves.

She watched their eyes light at the prospect of a diamond ring, something worth more than even her sword and the small ones eyes darted into the surf and then back to her. Swaying her hips as if to hypnotise them with her steps she waded into the sea further and acted as if to scour the sand for her lost treasure, her face a picture of loss and concern.

The tallest of the trio moved as if to join her but the woman grabbed his arm and looked at him meaningfully, mouthing something Maris could not see from her current stand point. The man gruffly pulled back his arm and half laughed half snorted into the woman's face obviously insulted that she would warn him from following the girl into the water. His feet splashed the water as he moved through the surf in his heavy armour and the sand was kicked up around him swirling into delicate clouds that, Maris observed, would have lost the ring in seconds if she had truly been looking for it. She mused on this for a second before looking and smiling gratefully at her 'savour'.

She watched to see if the others would follow but for now it seemed not. She stood waist deep in the surf and was happy to feel the sea lapping against her back. She ducked herself down, as if to try and grab something from the sands at her feet and ducked her face into the warm water. As her face was submerged in the salty brine she let out a short sound, deep but inhuman, not the sound of a girl but the sound of a beast. She knew that the sound would travel far and bring her dear beasts to her. Her favoured companions had always been sharks, from the smallest dogfish to the great armoured diresharks and now she would call upon one of them to do away with these petty thieves, she would be damned if she would dirty her hands with them herself.

She stood back up and flicked her long curled hair back from her damp face. They trio seemed confused at the sound they had just heard but shrugged it off as the noise of a ship creaking or a strut shifting in the tide. She turned her head out to sea and looked for her beast. She hoped it would come soon, she didn't know how long she could keep the humans in the water.

[Deathkeeper]

Rory

What, save light, sound, and electricity, can match the speed of thought? I sit and watch for only a few seconds as I contemplate what to do. I'm no city guard. But a guard would never get there in time. If they have weapons they might try to stab me on their way. I'm practically knife-proof. There's no dishonor in leaving the law to its own workers. Father would stop them. There really isn't-
Father would stop them.
Planting my taloned foot on the edge of the building I let my legs propel me into the air and drop a bit before I open my wings. I hear at least one person remark at my drop and I can't help but let in their attention for the moment. Oh but just wait random bystander, it gets better! Never tell me I don't appreciate my species.
I let my mind wander for another split second. The city can be beautiful at night, if you've eyes to see it. Of course, maybe that's my biased opinion; I don't have to deal with the crowded streets most of the time.
I drop square in front of the two running humans, keeping my wings spread wide and with my best threatening stance.
"I'd suggest leaving that behind on your trip." I offer in my best rumbly dragon voice, making a show of letting a few tongues of flame escape from my jaws. None too large, else I couldn't talk at the same time. My voice does actually match my size, but by human standards it can get pretty deep when I'm trying. Truth be told the effect would be better if I was one of my bulkier cousins, but I can't help that. Father says that I might still have another growth spurt after I'm at adult age. He might be right; at this rate without a job I'll end up sitting around the Guild hall eating cheap food for weeks and I'll end up fat. I'm a dragon, we don't get fat. At least not until we're elders in our hundreds when it's kind of justified 'cause our joints get all stiff and even then-
Anyway! I'm pretty sure I downright terrified them. I mean, my sash was still on covering my waist and groin, but nothing else (mammals seem to think people who don't conform to their dress codes are wild and dangerous) and even if I am skinny for a dragon most folks don't expect a full-grown drake to just drop from the sky. I love having the theatrical advantage. They do the whole routine, eyes wide, mouths hanging open for a second. At least they didn't piss their pants.
"Best hurry. Your ride is leaving. And please, all of it. I can chase you, after all."
Now, these were rugged guys, and they could probably take me if they really wanted to, which they might have figured out eventually, but not only would that give the Guard time to show up and take over for me their ship would probably leave without them. Scaring the crap out of them was more to make them think I would delay them that much than to make them think I'd eat them. And also because it was fun. Sue me.
The satchel is dropped to the pier with a thunk and they hurry by me. They don't drop anything else despite my stern look so I guess there was only one bag tonight. I admit, I bask in the glory just a little bit as I stroll back to the street peddler and drop the satchel on his counter.
"Maybe late-night isn't the best time to keep up shop. Hard to keep track of everything coming and going."

[Raunchel]

Raunchel - Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

I don’t like the flattery that my visitors will certainly tell me, but from what I heard he is interesting, and might be a useful connection. Marriage however will never be an option, I will have to refuse in a way that can’t anger him. This room is mostly there for visitors, I have been told that there are beautiful paintings on the walls, I am still curious about those, apparently there are so-called painters who apply certain substances to a canvas, and shape them like objects in the world, a bit like my music box, some sort of magic. As a child I tried to feel them, but there was only a little relief in which I could feel nothing like what I was told to be there. I don’t really like paintings, I prefer woodcuttings and statues which I can feel, or tapestries because they are soft and warm. But many people like these paintings, and I have them here for them.

To my left there is a large piece with my parents, my brother and me, I have no statues of them, not yet at least, I am assured that the sculptors are busy with them, basing them on the paintings on the walls. To my left there is a view of the sea, with ships and according to Ophelia a striking sky with beautiful clouds. She really likes it, so maybe I’ll give it to her one day. Behind my visitors there is a fresco, which is some sort of painting directly on the wall which I really can’t feel, with a forest and wildlife. Behind me there are a few smaller paintings, all of them of ships. I sit at my massive desk, made out of wood, on the left side there is one of my favorite objects in this room, a model of a galleon, which should be highly accurate.

I face my guests when they enter, I really like Jessili’s gift, it is so thoughtful of her, much, much better than the mirror which one of my captains once gave me on my name day. I keep my hands in a rhombus, I thought myself to do that because I tended to constantly play with my fingers and little objects, and that would be unbecoming for me. I bow my head when I hear them approach

”The pleasure is all mine, lord Salemchant, lady Salemchant-Warwick, young masters, I have heard many things about you, and our correspondence has only made me more curious. Please, be seated. I would ask your forgiveness for not personally greeting you, but my condition makes such things complicated as you will doubtlessly understand.”

They sit down in the more recent seats that I bought myself, they have fine woodcarving, but far more importantly, they are comfortable. When I am asked about my business I reply: ”Well, I have been getting involved in a most peculiar drink that is produced on Diron Isle, apparently the locals take a certain leaf which they dry, and subsequently extract with boiling water, they say that it is good for one’s health, and it actually has quite an interesting taste, tea, I believe they call it. I have gained an exclusive contract with them, and hope to greatly increase demand for it throughout the archipelago. Other than that most business is as usual, although, please don’t tell anyone, I hope to keep this secret a little while longer, one of my captains is bringing a ship’s load of Thrabean rugs, and it should arrive soon. The route was cleared of pirates only recently, and you doubtlessly know that the prices have exploded over the last few years. Anyways, how are your endeavors going?”

I give him a little bit of information that could lead him to a little profit, or rather, less loss. Those little things always help to make people like me, they think that I am charitable, while it basically is just another transaction. And it tends to make people say more than they usually would, by creating an atmosphere of trust.

[Vael]

Fabrar Wayland

A guide? No, he was looking for Collin, not a guide. The thoughts of his outdoorsy brother lost within this urban jungle were the only reason Fabrar had braved this voyage in the first place. And yet, where was he to look first? This was definitely not Tanager, as there were more people in his eyesight now-- laborers traveling to and fro, girls and their shadows playing hopscotch, dockworkers securing a vessel with ropes-- than there were in Port Tanager. Nay, there were more people here than on Tanager itself. Perhaps it would do him good, he justifies, to eat a loaf of bread and rest at an inn. He could scour every inn and alley in the town tonight, but his voice and form were wearied. A guide would be wonderful. This boy looked trustworthy and reminded him of the young, dust-laden faces among his audience back home. Besides, it would be all the better to have company at night. He had heard many stories about Bardocas, after all.

“I’m just your average weaponsmith and storyteller, but you really have an eye for newcomers.” Fabrar’s voice cracks slightly throughout, with the last syllable of “average” rising to a falsetto. For a moment he wonders if his guts were sinking alongside his vocal cords in the bay. But he quickly clears his throat and speaks again as he reaches into his satchel, “I wonder what gave it away, the confusion in my eyes or the dive onto the cobble? Anyway, I would really appreciate a guide. I won’t be staying here too long, just have a little... family business to attend to, but if you could show me the area and a cheap inn you’ll get your coins now and a meal when we’re through.”

In response, his stomach-- one of his few organs that weren’t jettisoned-- strikes with the gnawing pain of emptiness. Fabrar clenches his stomach with the hand not occupied by the copper pieces. Recomposing himself, Fabrar reconsiders and outstretches his copper pieces in an open palm, “Actually, how about three coppers and a cheap meal for the both of us now? You can call me Fabr-aeer”

This time, his voice cracks as he tells his name to the boy. Before he could correct himself, his amused guide happily takes the pieces and speaks again.

[GuyFawkes]

Levi T. Pendegraph

Levi smiled as the girls tried to sweet talk him, and looked over the girl Cassandra's head at Kravitz, who was barely able to contain her own laughter. Girls like these were a bronze piece a bunch, especially in these kinds of places. Nevertheless, Levi enjoyed the attention, and it had been a long trip.

"Girls, girls, you flatter me. I am but a humble business man who was lucky enough to have everything just fall into my lap when I needed them. Ha ha ha ha!" he laughed as he pulled the two closer, his hands roaming freely over skin, hair, and fabric.

"Perhaps I am indeed blessed by the gods. Perhaps not. Who knows? But having two lovely ladies clinging to me like this, I'm inclined to think the former. Ha ha ha!"

While Levi continued to flirt with the two, Hanya and Kravitz stood guard by close, as they always did. Kravitz sat just behind Levi like she always did, back straight, hands on her lap. Despite her unruly hair, one would think her to be appropriately dressed in a flowing gown rather than the shining armor she wore then. The way she held herself, she seemed more of a princess than a warrior. But perhaps that was her first weapon, and perhaps her most deadly, as many a fierce warrior have fallen before her, thinking exactly just that.

Kravitz' eyes roamed the room, looking for the first sign of trouble. Her ears opened to all the conversations going on around them, though mostly it was hogged by the two minxes' desperate attempts to gain her master's favor, making her stifle a laugh or two from time to time.

Poor girls, she thought. Maybe on some other rich bloke, their honeyed words might have worked their way into the poor man's pockets by now, but not Levi. No, he did all the taking, not the other way around. And the way her master did so tenaciously pursue what he wanted, the thought of it made her shiver. She knew that if it came to a straight up fight she'd beat him every single time, but there was something about him, something dangerous, that kept her from even considering fighting with him. What it was, she was not sure.

As Kravitz looked at Levi's back while thinking about things, Hanya plopped down on the chair to her right, prompting her to swing her head to that direction. She caught her brother looking dejected, and from that alone she knew what was the cause.

"Sigh. Why does that old man get to have all the girls while I can't even get one? Is money all that ever matters to women?! I'm the one who's got the good looks and the charms, not that pitiful excuse of a human being! But why? Why is it so?!" Hanya moaned weakly, slumping down on the chair. With that remark, Kravitz just shook her head and smiled.

"If you can't even answer that question, then you're bound to be rejected for the rest of your life."

"Hey, hey, what's that even supposed to mean?!" Hanya said as he sat straight up, leaning closer to his sister.

"...It means what it's supposed to mean," she smiled then stuck her tongue out at him. "Now be quite and do your job. The auction's starting."

"Yeah, yeah," Hanya dismissed Kravitz with a wave of his hand as he slumped back down onto the chair.

As he did so, the Auctioneer went back in front of the crowd and began the auction. For the first item, he presented a luxurious galleon. Levi, who was still busy with his two girls, simply looked at the piece, then turned back to the girls. The galleon looked good, but it was not to his tastes, and so he raised his hand and waved it. Instantly, the two at his back knew he was disinterested with the current item.

While waiting for the item that would catch his fancy, Levi talked but at the same time observed the others present in the auction. Places like this often attracted interesting personalities, and those are the ones he wanted to involve himself with, one way or another.

That was why he was here in the first place.

[Kaynebot]

Thagrosh-On the Hunt

As Thagrosh stepped into the building the place looked meek and almost pathetic if it were not for the ogre standing by the doorway. Thagrosh's attention caught up with the ogre almost completely ignored the man speaking directly at him. He remembers the last time he had a bout with one of them. It wasn't pretty but...it was fun as hell.

As the man who was on the barrel rushes in Thagrosh swears he smells fear permeating the air, all from a little ogre with a toy, What was his name? Oh yea Kru'Bask, continuing his thought maybe if he got what he wanted he'd get to enjoy a real fight. That ship's mast would hurt, alot if he got hit by it. But it would be way more fun than just making a stall vendor piss his pants.

Returning back to matter at hand clearing his throat harshly Thagrosh begins to reply to the man "I don't like to leave my weapon lying around just anywhere so I expect it not to be touched, by anyone." Thagrosh deeply emphasized "anyone"

Then Thagrosh taking his left hand behind his back and disengaging Rapture from its quick combat sheath held his blade in front of him as if to admire it(as Thagrosh is oddly enough left-handed). Thagrosh noticing the attention such a large exotic weapon should be attaining, then holds it up higher than his head almost to left the others admire the beauty or so it seemed. And suddenly Thagrosh with as much downward force as he can muster slams Rapture directly into the floor beside the scribe. The moment of impact causing a loud crack and whoosh. Burying the blade in the floorboards at least a good six inches to a foot.

Thagrosh's motive behind this was not just a show of force although he knew it never hurt(well ok, it sometimes hurt but rarely) to show off and put everyone on their back foot or off balance. Not everyday somebody walks into the building and shoves a massive dual-sided pike-sword into the floor. Tactics like this were what Thagrosh liked not to mention, burying it in the ground like that would make it harder to steal, combined with Rapture's repellent Thagrosh felt pretty smug about Rapture staying there.

Silence hung in the air for a fraction of time as Thagrosh let his action sink in but not too long as to let anybody interrupt him, Thagrosh spoke again "There you go, now the name is Thagrosh and I have a meeting to make with Marius so I expect to be up soon if you get the drift."

As everyone's attention is on him, Thagrosh walks a couple paces over to the wall leaning on it preferring that than a barrel. He wanted to be able to get to Rapture quickly if necessary. He stood there letting his mind wonder, leaving a fraction of it grounded and aware of the stares of people and of Kru'Bask.

As his mind usually did, it wondered to "the voice" Oh that precious and victorious time! And to be so close to it again! If only this wasn't a fake, remember don't get your hopes to high Thagrosh. But think of the glory! It could still be nothing as it has been for years now. Oh shush! I'll have him back and together we will slay that Demon and I shall be a champion of champions! Or you will go wandering for eternity for your weakness looking for that cursed crystal. How dare you speak of the crystal as such! It was a magnificent thing! And I shall be a true champion with it yet! Just you wait. All in a short amount of time Thagrosh found himself arguing with himself, yet another indicator of the profound impact of the crystal.

[Vegna]

PseudoStraw/Mare Maris

The armoured man takes an enthusiastic approach to the search, dunking his own head below the dim water, before surfacing with handfuls of wet sand that he holds up to the city light. His companions watch your efforts, with increasingly nervous looks around the beachside. After another minute, the short one pulls at the woman’s shoulder to speak in her pointed ear. Whatever he said, she starts to enter the waves now and heading towards you, as they both draw their blades as she calls to the armoured one,

“Ernest, she’s worth more than a hundred diamond rings, so get the water out of your brain and grab her!”

Ernest finishes analysing his last sand clump, before tossing it aside with a sigh, reaching to drag his own dagger out from beneath the waterline. Their movements are very awkward as they wade towards you, the woman being slightly battered by the tide as she tries to circle around you, their stout friend shouting orders from the shore. Now you had two of them deep enough for your finned ally, if it would arrive in time.

“Just make this easy on us, girl, and you’ll still be able to write after this.”

The pointy-eared woman threatens, as she and Ernest are now entering arms reach, awkwardly attempting to grab at you with their free hands and maintain balance at the same time. As you swim slightly beyond their reach, you feel a sudden stillness around you. The water around you has stop moving, either from your own ripples or the constant waves of the sea. Ernest takes a leap at your arm in your distraction, whilst the woman freezes in place. The odd sounds of splashing puddles starts to rise over the din of the island, and as you turn to see the source, your vision picks out the shape of a man running across the water with some long object raised overhead.

“It’s ah bloody Marine, stop pissin’ about and drag her on shore, ya idiots. He’s comin’ this way!”

Ernest tries to pull you through the water, but in this deep you’re the stronger one, his efforts only keeping him treading water. As the woman flees to shore, your captor brings his unsteady knife up to your arm threateningly, his voice shaking with worry.

“Move now or I’ll cut it off, I mean it!”

LordDeathkeeper/Roran

For a moment, the one holding the bag looks like he might try to push past, the pair of them visibly angry at your sudden appearance. The goods are thrown aside without further trouble, as they continue their run to the docks, though you hear them utter a few curses including something about reptiles briefly. On the other hand, the stall owner is ecstatic at your return of his wares. He empties the contents back onto his stall, a collection of various plates and cutlery both iron and silver, his still shaky hands trying to restore order to his counter.

“Bloody tourists, them lot. Always think they can stiff a poor man’s shop. Well, it was good to see them nearly fall arse over head when you dropped down like that. And if ya’d burned em a bit, I wouldn’t a said nothing.”

He gives a sporting wink to you, as he punches a slightly warped plate back into shape. The surrounding shoppers, if anything, are even more interested in his stall now, reasoning that if the goods were worth trying to steal, they couldn’t be worthless. Though with your presence still remaining, they obviously make no efforts to repeat the display you just averted. Cheered by his renewed business, the owner carefully grabs a claw and places a few coins in your hand.

“You done me right, dragon, and I ain’t the ungrateful sort. I’ve been seein’ you around here these past month, ain’t I? You’re always hoping for that Messengers Guild down the street there, flying around the city. You willing to deliver something for me, and I’d be willing to pay ya extra if you do it tonight. Gots something a bit special and I’d rather not deliver it by hand. Been havin’ unwanted folks watching me stall and all that. Get this to Jaspers and he’ll pay you fair. Or just leave it on the stall, it’s not your problem.”

Rummaging inside his weathered cloak, he pulls out a crinkled letter stamped with a wax seal. He turns it over to let you read the address briefly,

‘Fisherman’s Guild Hall, Southern Docks.’

He lays it on the stall in front of you, topped with a stack of copper coins, quickly returning to a customer interested in his re-formed plate. He appears to be largely ignoring both you and the letter now, pre-occupied in gathering any more potential buyers from the late-night crowd.

Vael/Fabrar Wayland

“Fab-rear? Ha-ha, I think one of me mam’s mates is called that too. Maybe you two are related? Anyways come on this way, my mam’s house is just a couple streets away. She makes tha best pickled trotter in all o’ Bard-oh-cas, you ever eaten trotters where you from, do you know what pig is. My mam says that all tha big Lawds and Lawdys have these big pink animals on their tables, but you gots to take their trotters so they can’t trot away off tha table and we’re real lucky to get those table trotters from tha Lawds own table.”

As you follow the boy through the crowd, you notice that it is now significantly easier walking without getting barged or pushed aside as he seems to guide you through the path of less resistance. He continues to talk about the myths of pigs’ trotters and their ability to stop you from going bald, playfully shaking the few coppers in his hands before stopping at a small tavern, a wooden sign hanging off of a single hinge above the door, reading in bold letters, “Rose’s Garden.” Before you can contemplate its words any further, the small child is pushing your back to bring you through the door, your weakened state unable to stop his energetic efforts.

The smell of incense wafts into your nostrils as your body is forced though the doorway, the tavern is alive with patrons drinking heartily from their tankards, being brought out to them by several comely ladies. Your guide is greeted with cries of “Wormy” from some of the girls, who he begrudgingly lets fuss his rough hair. He runs off to talk to one of them, pulling at her arm to talk in her ear. Whatever he says earns him a narrowly avoided slap before retreating back to you.

“I don’t think she knows you. Come on, Mum’s in the kitchen.”

The smell of cooking pork rumbles your stomach again, this time almost fiercely as if your stomach would take matters into its own hands soon. Following the divine smell, you are greeted by a heavy-set woman wielding a metal ladle as tall as ‘Wormy’, who she is currently crushing with a massive embrace.

“Wormwood, I tol’ to never go out after dark. If you do that again, I’ll have Ronnie serve you to the lads.”

“Okay, okay mam! I was just comin’ home and I saw Fab-rear here.”

“Fab-What?!”

She releases her son, as she rises to meet your eyes. Looking you up and down for a moment, her stern look breaks into a wide smile,

“Well, what can I do for a nice young boy like yourself?”

Kaynebot/Thagrosh

The scribe watches Rapture slowly stop shaking within the floorboards, before sighing acceptingly,

“I’ll put you down as no money then?”

He scribbles something down on the paper, before making a motion with his hands. Light shoots from his finger tip past behind the curtain, the man shaking his finger in discomfort afterwards.

As you rest beside the wall, you see Kru’Bask grin darkly, hefting his mast onto his shoulders and making an obvious show of limbering up as he watches you. The tension from the other waiting customers could be cut with a blunt knife, as everyone’s eyes stare at the blade and then at you and then at the smiling ogre. One woman starts to stand and quickly exit out the front door. Another two start to follow her and then soon enough the room is now entirely empty except for the scribe, the ogre and yourself.

“Well, there go the takings for the next hour.”

The scribe sighs before firing off another light, cursing as he sucks the finger tip. The man who you saw enter earlier pushes out through the curtains, slightly confused at the lack of people in the room now. He shrugs and collects his cloak, before nodding to the scribe with a smile as he leaves. Kru’Bask starts to chuckle deeply, as he roars down the hall towards you,

“THA’GA’ROSH. YOU NOW.”

He moves aside the mast, his remaining black teeth poking out of his ugly grin. Walking through the tattered covering, the room is lit with only a small oil lantern hanging from the overhead beam. The only chair is occupied by a gnome, clothed in clean leathers and a single metal gauntlet over his right hand. He is about to talk but something gives him pause, as he looks at your face with a slight grimace.

“You aren’t a vampire, are you? Not that I’ve got any problem with vampires, just wondering. Anyway, Marius is the name, information’s the game and apparently you haven’t got coin to ask what time the baker opens, though I’m sure we can arrange something as a trade. So, what do you want to know? Places to pick up ladies for an affordable price? What ship is bringing in dire felines this week? Ask me and I’ll name the price.”

Raunchel/Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

“Tea. Oh my word, are not the freshest islands always filled was some wonder or another? I will have to try the flavour when it reaches the shore. As for me, the real prize was won by my Edward here, as skilled a mage as myself in my youth. He led a troop of twenty men against our most recent taking, the shore was thick with these huge beasts, imagine your common feline but twenty times larger and only half as territorial.”

He lets out a rumbling chuckle in his seat, whilst both of his sons simply sigh at his joke. As Lord Selemchant has been talking, you’ve gathered that his children share a blatant disinterest with their father’s talk, Gregory even more so as he drums his fingers on the chair’s armrest. As the eldest, Edward had long been groomed for the title of Lord much the same as your own brother had, and whilst he was never excited about the prospect, he is known to be dutiful. As the second child and largely free of responsibly, Gregory has been known around the city as something of a serial playboy, but ultimately harmless.

Their mother, Dolores of the modest Warwick House, made quite a stir a few years ago, when she was named the sole successor to the family estate, despite being a third child with two elder brothers. What was most startling was her siblings’ unresistant attitude to the decision, not even a token claim for a single bag of grain from the acres of food that the Warwicks produced over miles of islands. And at the head of this family, Henry Selemchant, an explorer and conqueror across the eastern islands in his prime, a 1st generation Lord that had earned his title with his own work. An upstart to most of the older Lord Houses, but his gaze was turned outward to the east rather than into the city, at least until he had begun the correspondence with yourself.

“Well, by the time my boy was done with them, the beasts were glad to be standing in a large litter tray. Hohohoho. I believe they’ll do wonderfully as exotic pets and pelts. Edward even brought you one of their hides as a gift, their fur is remarkable pleasant to the touch. Edward.”

“Yes, Father.”

You hear the elder son rise as he removes something from his arms, making his way beside you and placing the soft edge against your hand for you to find.

“This is for you, my Lady.”

GuyFawkes/Levi T. Pendegraph

As the bidding continues for the galleon, the girls are surprised at your lack of interest, obviously unaware that auctions could involve anything more than a race to spend as much coin as you can. Cassandra is in mock astonishment,

“I thought you liked ships, Mr Pendegraph, or is that one too much for you?”

“Don’t be silly, Cassandra. Mr Pendegraph is obviously not buying it because it’s too small. He’s keeping his handsome eyes on the prize.”

Surveying the surrounding bidders, Levi recognises some from the talk around the town. Two such men who were currently in a bidding war over the galleon were Victor Haslong and Jurgen Kalas, the two biggest and rival mercenary companies on the island. Haslong had made a huge success from his own muscle and in the sheer number of warriors on his vessels, perhaps more than the army of the Merchant Lord Selemchant who practically owned the eastern islands. Haslong’s men were also very much hit-and-miss on skill, but with such a large force there were few who could cope against a wave of steel and power, especially when Haslong was zealously leading. Except perhaps for Kalas, renowned equal parts strategic genius and hopeless romantic, he owns a mere twenty ships of soldiers. But in the past two years, he has managed to cull more pirates than Haslong has in his entire career, though his fitful moments of love often make his own skills somewhat absent for the duration.

As Haslong screamed his offer higher still, a third party makes eye contact with you from across the room, her golden prosthetic eye immediately strikes some memory in your head. She has something to do with gold, or was it alchemy or maybe both? She rolls her good eye slightly at the sight of your entourage, and then continues to view the lively bidding.

One of the attendants approaches the Twins, he tries to smile, but is blatantly worried by the artwork covering and rough appearance of Hanya.

“Can I get you or your lord anything? I also have a note from one of the other bidders. A gentleman from booth six, here.”

Whichever Twin claims the note can see it reads,
'Blue-Roger’s Treasure. Interested? Meet after the auction at the Galleon.'
Haslong lets out a frustrated growl, whilst Kalas is passive, as the auctioneer suddenly reads a note of his own.

“I’m sorry; we have a bid from a private booth for a thousand kilos of gold. Anymore bidders? No? Going once. Twice. I guess that's sold.”

Xondoure/Zaneserri Darro
Flynn rocks the Gull with his energetic boarding, you haven’t seen him this mobile in . . well, ever. He closes his lantern as he manoeuvres against the other side of the main mast, blatantly hiding from the pier. He tosses the pouch at your feet, creating a pleasant, heavy chime of grating coins.

“You’re a smuggler, right? You’ve always done anything for good coin. So smuggle me, out of here, tonight! I’ve just had six guys burn down my house and I don’t think they want to talk about repairing. You’ve got fifty gold coins in there, it’s yours if you get me to Adronicus without any missing parts. It’s a two day sail if we leave now.”

Despite his pleas for action, Asami simply collects the pouch and carefully counts its contents, her nose wrinkling at Flynn’s nervous smell. Letting out a short noise of displeasure, she states,

“He’s only got forty six coins here, Zan. We won’t be sailing easy, but we can just as easily resupply at Adronicus. Jesse wants some shore leave too though, and I don’t think she wants to shop at an island filled with priests and Marines.”

She tosses the payment to you, before returning to her seat. As Flynn begins to make his excuse, a call echoes from down the pier. You can spot another three lights moving down the walkway in your direction, though they seem to be searching each ship on their way. A few disgruntled captains yell at the intrusions upon their decks, but for whatever reason they seem to silence quickly.

“By the Maw, that’s them. You’ve got to get moving now! If you start sailing, they’ll be hours behind before they figure anything out.”

As the lights grow closer, it’s obvious to your experienced eye that sailing off now would only attract the unwanted attention of whoever Flynn was scared of. If they were serious they may even put up a fight for the sake of him, though there is nothing stopping you from just give Flynn over to them and keeping the coins. Also your deadliest crew member would probably make the following couple days very interesting in the worst way possible if she didn’t get what she wanted, though she’d eventually forgive you, right?

[Xondoure]

The Blue Gull

Zan's brain is not eager to descend so suddenly into thinking mode. With a shuddering jolt he forces it to switch gears and take stock of the situation. He had one desperate passenger, forty six gold coins, one body guard walking around the port, and a collection of angry gentlemen approaching with the intent of searching his ship. The last one settled things. With a quick motion he puts an arm around Flynn; leading him forward as he walks across the deck.

"You see mr. Flynn while I appreciate the urgency of your situation; I'm afraid setting sail is out of the question for the immediate future. Firstly what with the darkness, the reefs, and the tides being what they are setting sail now would be a close cousin to suicide. Secondly there are times to run and times to hide. And this mr. Flynn" A boot catches the unsecured hatch and kicks it open. "is a time for hiding. As Flynn seems to hesitate he aims a soft kick in the direction of his heels.

"Asa throw him in the second compartment until I see fit to let him out." He turns his attention back to Flynn. "You so much as whimper down there and we have a problem. Am I understood?"

Just as Asami starts to disappear with the rat in tow one last thought registers.

"Oh, and where's Jorry?"

[Deathkeeper]

Rory

Well, that's awfully convenient. Something to do. Now, normally I don't take jobs this late but come on, it takes literally minutes to get down to that part of the city. So I scooped up the coins and dropped them into a side pocket of my new satchel along with the letter. I also looked into the bag and there didn't seem to be anything in it or any funny smells, so it looks like I wouldn't have to worry about that. It made for a nice spare.
Giving the vendor one last nod I stepped away from the stand, found a more isolated place across the street and took off. I stopped for a few minutes to get my real bag, because this one wasn't as comfortable not being sized for me.
So yes, two minutes of flapping later my wings deposit me at the front of the fisherman's guild. It smelled a little better than I expected.
"Courier. Letter for Jaspers?" I said to the man at the front desk.

[Inspectre]

Elias recognizes the man's loyalties with a glance, and he decides the man's fate just as quickly. He waits until the cultist turns to yell at the passing group, and then Elias shoves him into a nearby wall as hard as he can. As the man bounces off of the unyielding stone, Elias drives a fist into the man's stomach and then grabs him and shoves him down onto the ground. Placing one boot on the back of the cultist's head, Elias glances up at the approaching guard.

"I got this taken care of, sir. Trust me - he won't be bothering anybody again. He's just had a little bit too much to drink."

Grabbing him by the back of his robes, Elias grabs the man and hauls him back up to his feet. As he does so, Elias pauses to hiss into the man's ear.

"We're going somewhere to have a private chat, you and I. And if you make a scene on the way there, you will spend your last moments in life begging our god for help that will not come."

[PseudoStraw]

Mare Maris

The water ceased with its gentle lapping of her flesh and stood still, unnaturally still, as her arms passed through it. It had the look of ice, frozen in time despite the movement of the world around it. Under the waves the fish still swam and the weeds still swayed but upon the surface it was motionless. Her mind boggled at the sudden change but this was all the distraction "Ernest" needed as he lunged and grabbed her swaying arm.

She swore as his grip tightened on her flesh and as she whipped her head towards him her eyes flashed reptilian in her anger. Just as soon as she turned she heard splashing behind her and, believing it to be another enemy trying to attack her, she turned back to see who it was.

A man. A man upon the sea. Her mouth dropped open and her brow furrowed as he sped towards herself and the trio, his weapon raised. The world had gone mad. She missed her solitary island now but not as much as she missed her true body and not being so close to madmen.

The command of her captor was growled into her ear as she felt him trying to pull her away. She hadn't been fully keeping track of him but it seemed he had been trying to move her from her current spot, something that was obviously not going to happen. His pulls and yanks on her arm did not so much as sway her as she continued to paddle in the motionless water.

She pursed her lips tightly and yanked her arm towards herself, feeling the cut on his knife dig into her soft flesh as he was brought closer to her. When he was face to face with her she opened her wide mouth to show lines of sharp, serrated teeth and whispered "You do not touch a god."

Taking a deep breath she spat out a blast of boiling hot steam and water into his shaking face, snatching her bleeding arm back as he grasped his face and screamed.

She took this chance to move further out into the ocean, diving under the water and letting out another call for the damned shark to hurry its efforts to aid her. She thought that the pooling of blood that was seeping from the cut on her arm would be an extra incentive for the dumb beast to speed up.

As she swam under the still water she looked up and saw the strange water-walking man run above her and towards her assailants. She chewed her lip and furrowed her brow again, moving towards the surface, to watch whatever would happen next.

[Raunchel]

A large cat? That is peculiar. But then again, there are other animals which occur in many sizes, like dogs. I don’t like dogs, they smell horribly and for some reason they always made me sneeze. Now I don’t sneeze anymore, but the dislike remains. Then something strikes me, they know that I am better than them, wealthier by far and with a much grander name. They cannot possibly hope to win my hand for one of their sons. But, they are mages, and the mother once played a grand trick to gain her inheritance. They intend to place a spell on me. But how?

Then the boy offers me the skin. That could be it. It might be bewitched to charm me when I touch it. They would gain control over my assets then, and would make themselves part of one of the grandest families. Or the way to bespell me could be more subtle, if it was that easy they could just been placed to directly touch my hand. The skin is soft indeed, and I stroke across it several times. “Thank you”, I say before quoting the famous poet Lasciniar: “the softness of skin is beyond compare, to the trembling fingers that are mine.”

I often have poetry read to me, my girls have such lovely voices and the greats, well, there is a reason why they are great. It also is a nice way to find out who people are, only cultured people recognize the words. And of course it makes me seem mysterious, I like that, it makes it hard for people to guess what my intentions are. On several occasions I was told that people can find out what someone thinks from the face by seeing. I don’t know how to hide this, and how to appear normal. So I decided to wear veils.

At least these people have taken the effort to bring me a gift that I actually like, unlike some others. I continue speaking: “It must be exhilarating to discover such unknown lands and to be the first civilized person to contact such creatures, and of course the various cultures you encounter. I must seem boring to you, I have never yet set foot on a ship, let alone visited foreign lands. The most exciting thing I do is listening to others telling me about their travels and adventures.”

I have a plan to get rid of any proposed marriage, by making them blame their sons. They already seem annoyed by their father’s talking, and if I keep him talking one of them will almost certainly do something. Probably the younger one, he seems undisciplined. The father will certainly oblige, he likes to talk.

“So, please, tell me more about your travels, you must have so many interesting stories to tell.”

[GuyFawkes]

Levi T. Pendegraph

"I'd like two of those. With extra flattery on the sides, please," Hanya said with a lack of enthusiasm, pointing at the two girls throwing themselves at Levi. He then reached out and took the note from the attendant's hand without even looking at him, then dismissed him with a wave of his hand. When he opened it, he looked at it, then without a word, passed it to Kravitz.

"...well that is something. What d'you think, K?" Hanya said, his face still lacking any interest. Kravitz read the note, folded it neatly in two, then looked at the attendant.

"You know what I think. Not that it matters," she said coolly, eliciting a shrug from Hanya, who was now leaning on the backrest, stretching his back and yawning. Turning to the attendant, she asked.

"Yes, thank you. Is it possible to know the identity of the gentleman who gave this letter?"

Meanwhile, Levi continued to play around with the two girls as he waited for something interesting to happen. Just then, the auctioneer announced the bid of a thousand kilos, and Levi's smile turned to a wide grin, looking around for where the private booths were. "Ah, yes, maybe. Hah hah hah!" he replied thoughtlessly to their questions.

"By any chance, do you know those two gentlemen right there?" he asked, pointing at Haslong and Kalas. As he asked, he eyed the woman with the prosthetic eye, searching his memory for something that she reminded him of. "How about that lady over there?"

[Vael]

Fabrar Wayland

“I’ll take the trotters!”

Fabrar’s voice exhibited a strength that surprised the woman, his guide, and even himself. By the sound of it, those in the main room of the tavern, too, had ceased momentarily their tales of the night life and urban legends, and all that could be heard was the sizzle of pork and the whistle of steam. But this only lasted a second as the laughter at the randomness began, which commenced the din of that room with newfound fervor.

Fabrar placed a hand behind his head and laughed nervously. He didn’t want to offend the strong-armed woman with the large ladle, but most of all he didn’t want to offend the strong-armed woman those delightfully smelling pig’s feet whose aroma had already seemed to grace his tongue. He quickly offered an explanation, “Sorry ‘bout that. My stomach’s been speaking for itself ever since I got off the ship. The last time I’ve smelled something as delightful as this was back in Tanager comin’ from the Ruddy Quarry with Mr. Feeblif’s salmon.”

His eyes irresistibly centered on the pot, and he blinked a few times to confirm it. Why, Fabrar thought, am I apologizing to the pot and not this kind woman? With a smile, he looked at the woman again and ensured she was between him and the pot before continuing.

“Nothing stuck to my stomach in that two week voyage, and I stopped trying after a while. Guess you could say I’m a little seasick. Anyway, I met your boy by the docks and he led me here. I’m not sure I would have gotten through those crowds otherwise. That sea of a crowd. We were gonna grab a bite to eat first before showing me around the city, but...”

He hesitated a bit. Surely, Collin could last another night in this city, knowing him. And while the side of his mouth briefly curled into a frown, he continued with some optimism.

“If he can’t go after dark I’m sure it could wait ‘til morning. I can’t blame you at all if even half of the stories I’ve heard of the nights here are true, like the ones with the Fiends and the Weselops. So some of those trotters I’ve heard acclaimed to cure baldness and lodgings for the night would be much appreciated. Not that I need a cure for baldness.”

He said the last bit while running a hand, almost instinctively, through his shoulder length hair. He found it strange enough that no one mistook him for a girl yet, which was almost a running gag in Tanager, but that thought didn't last as he realized one other important bit to mention.

"The name's Fabrar, by the way."

He didn't need his name sullied by innuendos.

[Kaynebot]

Thagrosh was almost surprised the people had the nerve to get up leave. Oh well quicker for me When Kru'Bask called his name, Thagrosh put on a cocky grin. He sauntered by the beast almost laughing at that dumb grin. He didn't trust the two of them out in that room alone with Rapture but it was necessary for the time being. Time to get what I came for he thought Brushing the curtain aside.

He was almost shocked speechless! A gnome! Who would of thought. Thagrosh clears his voice, purposely giving it a deeper edge to it and leans down on the desk going for an imposing posture. The desk creaks a couple times readjusting to Thagrosh's muscular weight.

"No, I'm not a vampire." He rolls his eyes, not the first time he was asked that. "Anyways, Its quite simple. I am looking for a talking gem. I have it from a good many sources you know everything around town. So where's the talking gem?" Thagrosh asks bluntly. He never liked beating around the bush and sure as hell wasn't going to entertain Marius by subtley dancing around what he wanted. He smirks after he asks his question, waiting for what the little man wanted in return.

At the back of Thagrosh's mind he is waiting for an Ogre's yelp signifying he tried to take Rapture. Wouldn't be the first time something like that happened.

[Vegna]

PseudoStraw/ Mare Maris

Ernest screams like a dying beast, his eyelids visibly scorched from your attack, their raw skin so thin that you can see the burnt, twitched eyeballs beneath them. His knife drops below the water’s surface, as he grasps at his ruined face. The woman doesn’t even look back as she keeps wading for shore, though the short one utters some curses lost behind the tortured noise.

The frozen ocean slightly tugs towards the “Marine” now as the liquid floor below him starts to rise, as if the nose of a great whale was breaking the surface, his feet riding the tip. The water now twenty feet tall, he leaps off as the momentum carries him across the air and towards the pointed-ear woman. She turns just in time to see his stone trident’s handle swinging towards her, striking her torso and staggering her. His feet land on solid water again, holding the high ground against her half exposed body, easily parrying her returned swipes of her dagger. He disarms her with a swipe, knocking it away with a splash as she grasps her wounded hand; the pointed trident now aimed her throat.

“Stay, elf.”

The ‘elf’ raises her good hand in submission and he quickly readies his weapon again, away from her. At this distance you can see his worn features in the city’s light, his beard uncut and his hands calloused from work and age, though he doesn't appear winded at all from his efforts. He looks at your burnt assailant for a moment, and then turns to the remaining short land-dweller, now making his way towards the city without his friends. The Marine takes a knee as he speaks to you in gravely tones,

“These are your aggressors, Madam. Do you wish for the dwarf to pursued or shall I leave him be.”

Finally, the first person with real manners on this rock. Considering the short legs of the escaping ‘dwarf’, he appears unlikely to get very far especially if you joined this man in chasing him down. If anything you could probably leave the marine to watch over these two, allowing you to deliver you own justice on the dwarf with minimal witnesses to your abilities.

LordDeathkeeper/Roran

As you take off above the city, you hit a sudden gust that throws you off of your balance for a moment. Though you regain your stability, the wind over the island continues to become increasingly unruly, buffeting you around and making your landing a little difficult as the draft nearly guides you into flying into the building.

The man at the desk’s former tired state snaps into alertness as you say his name. He rummages quickly for his coins, throwing forty silver pieces on the table before snatching the letter from your claws. He pauses to inspect the unbroken seal, and then tears the letter open with almost desperation. He seems to have forgotten that you were even in the room as he pours over the letter. Then as quickly as his energy appeared, it is fades away into relief, the letter calmly stowed away inside the desk. Jasper’s odd show over, he is almost surprised that you’re still in the room, managing a quick smile as he looks at you and then your wings.

“Thank you very much for this letter. Please enjoy the silver, it’s all yours. Now, it’s late and I need you pass something back to the man who gave you the letter. I just keep it down here.”

He disappears behind the desk, removing a woollen fish-patterned rug to reveal an iron latch. Lifting the trapdoor, a small wooden box sits beneath the floorboards, the shape of a trident embedded on the lid. Something rattles inside rather like a rock, as he carries it towards the front door and complimenting you as he guides you out.

“Thank you for your help. It’s so difficult to find a decent courier these days. You must be one of the fastest couriers on the island, maybe even THE fastest. Well, don’t want to keep our friend waiting now, busy busy busy.”

Placing the box in your claws, he opens the front door and wishes you well, you’re almost startled at how quickly that all happened. All this work is certainly spinning you around in circles and the fisherman didn’t promise any reward this time, if it mattered.

Whether you decide to fly off or just haggle a fee, you feel a draft from above, as something thuds against the roof of the doorway. A pair of taloned legs, a torso that could be described as humanlike, if not for the feathered wings jutting from her back, and a face as sweet as sugar to human men. A harpy, as they were known commonly. The draconic equivalent means something similar to racing pigeon, as a testament to their flight speed, which easily rivals dragons, and their position as damned pests.

“Hey there, if it isn’t a winged skink who’s got my package. Thanks, I’ll be taking that now, if you’d be so kind.”

Vael/Fabrar Wayland

After listening to your story, Rose clips her son around the ear, before returning to her pot of delicious smelling trotters.

“Don’t you go spread lies about people’s names, Wormwood, or you’ll be getting no trotters. As for you Fabrar, take a seat where ever you like outside. First bowl is free to newcomers, but you’ll nee’ to pay for your beer and bed, and girls if you’re feeling up to it.”

She lets out a hearty chuckle, before kissing Wormy’s head and passing him a small bowl of stew, with a lump of bread sticking out. He stops rubbing his ear at the sight of food, happily taking with a greedy look before disappearing further into the building without even a goodbye.

“Also, watch out for Wormwood around your food or you’ll be sipping air. Anyway here’s yours, just ask a girl if you need anything else. I’m sure Wormwood will fin’ you tomorrow morning, after he’s finished his letters of course, so enjoy yourself and relax.”

Back inside the public part of the inn, you see various male customers enjoying their tankards as all sailors do when back in port. The women around seem very friendly too, always happy to smile or give a quick kiss goodbye or guide patrons to their rooms. But none of that mattered now, as you had your glorious bowl of stew in hand, all you needed was a seat.

And the bowl of food that was raised out of your hands. A set of lumpy fingers take the bowl from beneath your weak grasp, as an equally lumpy man sits in his chair.

“By the Mouth, I’ve been waiting an hour for this. Thanks, darling, be sure to give Rosie my thanks. You a new girl? Well, before anyone tells you otherwise, I’m Jed and I’m a great tipper if you’re willing to put in the time.”

And to punctuate the end of his theft, he brings a meaty hand to slap your rear-end and winks at you. Placing the bowl on his table, he licks his fat lips and rubs his hands in expectation, before grasping his spoon. Your first steady meal in two weeks will be gone in a few seconds if Jed is left to it, but he seems just distracted and drunken enough that you could probably do as you please to stop him, it’s only when his brain catches up that you might have a problem.

Kaynebot /Thagrosh

“Well, I’m glad to hear that my many customers are so satisfied. Okay, let me think. Talking gem. Talking gem. Okay, you look like a serious man, not a vampire, so I’ll guess you want a special talking gem and not something you get peddlers flogging with a sailing ditty coming from a rhinestone. We talking ‘Marius, I want an unusual, something odd, bad juju gem?’ I’ll guess yes considering the juju coming off of you could turn my hair white. Hahaha. Anyway. If you want the info, you got work for some equal level juju. I need info to sell, and you look like the type who can get people to listen to him, or better yet, talk for him using certain methods. Am I right or am I right. I am right, right? So, here’s the skinny. There’s this house that got burnt down about three hours ago, over on the good side of the western block. No other buildings damaged, no other civilians hurt. Just one guy gone missing, probably dead.”

He passes you a sheet of paper, on it are directions and street names to the address of one ‘Hubert Flynn’. The ink is even still a little wet.

“I don’t want you to waste time trying to find the guy. Did I ask you to try and find the guy? No I didn’t ask you to find the guy. What I do want to know is who started the fire, and if you can find out why, I’ll ring a little bonus in for you. You ain’t local so you can skip town if you get any heat, but I can’t so try to not mention my name if you can. We got a deal then, you get me a who and maybe a why, and I swap you a where. A little danger for a little odd. Shake on it.”

He offers his gauntleted hand to you, the small covering look almost like a child’s replica, but the inscription’s detail makes it clear that the armour is anything but a replica.

Raunchel/Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

The elder Selemchant son hands the gift to Ophelia after you have approved of it, as the father chortles at your statement. You can hear the rustling of paper in his palms, whilst Edward returns to his place.

“Well, I had hoped to go into detail later at dinner, but seeing as you are share our sentiments, I’ll get straight to the point. The Eastern Frontier is growing every day, at least as long as I’m involved. However, there is only so much of me to go around for the ocean.”

The youngest splutters a suppressed fit of laughter, but his father only breaks in speech for a moment.

“Pardon you, Gregory. As I was saying, I cannot manage the enterprise on all fronts, even with my son’s assistance. We’ve got more supply than we can supply and would like to acquire an influential partnership position to make our profits increase all-around. Edward is sailing for the Maw-side of the Frontier for a month’s period, within a few days, and I would like to offer the opportunity for your Ladyship to accompany him and experience the adventure first hand. I have various shipping plans drawn up here, which you may have your people look over at your discretion, and then you can decide to agree or disagree to the offer on your return.”

This is certainly a turn-around from a marriage proposal, it’s a business proposal. Family history aside, his wealth was growing at a rate that had might soon dwarf the rest of the Merchant Lords, as each newly conquered island could be sold for its weight in gold, even more so if it had a gold vein. He had no public backers in Bardocas, despite his wealth due to how unpopular he was amongst the other Lords. He only sold islands, traded first taste of their exotic opportunities and then funded his soldiers and explorers to rinse and repeat. Though it still required Edward to join you, so the chance of this being some convoluted marriage plot remained, it wasn’t as certain as the chance for real adventure.

“Of course, we can discuss more at dinner, it is such a large undertaking to think about. Plus, you’ve claimed my curiosity about that ‘tea’. Will there be any at the table?”

The dinner itself you have prepared far ahead of time, you need only give the word to Ophelia and she can have the first course ready to serve by the time Lord Selemchant can fit in his chair.

GuyFawkes/Levi T. Pendegraph

“I am sorry, miss, but the gentleman did neither tell me his name, nor did he have one arranged when he purchased his booth. I have seen him sometimes before here, but I could not tell you more than that he is always alone and dressed in clothes that would suit a gentleman’s gentleman.”

He bows to Kravitz, before moving to kneel beside Leslie(?). She gives him an unimpressed look strong enough to potential strike kinship with Hanya, but he is professional enough to maintain eye contact with Levi only.

“Yes I do know them all, in some regard, my Lord. The man currently chewing on his paddle is Victor Haslong, he is the leader of the mercenary company, One Wave, the largest one I’ve ever heard of. The other is Jurgen Kalas, he is in the same business, but I’ve heard he’s kept the same pace with Mr Haslong’s six years of work in just two. One if you aren’t including his ‘off-time’. The lady is Madam Paub, she is something of an expert in gold quality. The Lords pay for her to check that they aren't receiving tampered or artificial gold, using a form of alchemy. She could create enough gold to turn it worthless, so they make sure to pay her well in anything else. Now, I must go and provide Mr Haslong a replacement paddle. I hope you all have a good evening, ladies, and sirs.”

Bowing to leave, the attendant disappears to continue his job. The private booths sit just above and behind the up-close auction spaces, so from the auctioneer’s spot, one might be able to see them but anywhere else would be largely unlikely. The auction hall’s stairs make them accessible, but whether the gentleman was still there and not already at the ship was anyone’s guess. As the auctioneer continues on to his next lot, Haslong has finally begun to calm down on some scale.

“For our next lot, a magnificent cutlass, once owned by the dreadful pirate, Twelve-Fingered Tandy. As many of you remember, he was one of the mightiest pirates on the high seas before meeting his end at against the Blue-eyed Roger. Note the extended finger guard around the hilt, as well as the patterning across the blade. It has also been enchanted to act as a magical compass, so he’d never be lost on the seas. A piece of piratical history you can own yourself. Shall we start at four kilos of gold or equal trade value?”

Inspectre/Elias Tarrant

The crowd doesn’t even seem to notice your brief assault, earning the preacher the prize of being slightly more trodden on by the surrounding citizens. The soldier seems satisfied with your response and display, stopping his advance with a vaguely amused look on his face as he examines your work,

“Well soak his head or I’ll have him thrown off the docks next time, got that?”

As he returns to the procession, the carriage and its guards are now proceeding deeper into the city, the crowd returning to its chaotic state. The preacher is blurry eyed as you drag him close to you again; his arms limp from the swift injuries to his body and skull. As you whisper to him, he lets out a brief hiss of air and sputters. Pushing him back, his now-steady eyes are locked on your collar and what markings might be etched on your skin below it. Saying nothing, he wipes the dirt from his hair to regain some composure, pulling a clump of dog filth and straw and throwing to the ground. The former fervour is now slightly muted, as he replies quietly,

“If he comes, it will matter not if I call. There is an isolated alleyway just down that path; we can speak there, if it would be to your preference.”

Though he speaks calmly, he scowls behind his words as he gestures towards further down the wall you had thrown him against. He runs his fingers over his holy symbol, a zealot to the end, a sight that is sickeningly familiar.

The alley is almost black, if not for the light reflected off of the street. You can hear your own echoes as you march the preacher to his private meeting, but the din of the people beyond should mask anyone from hearing what you had to say. Garbage has been thrown and left here for some time, by the family of cats that quickly vacate as you approach, your reluctant companion giving them a quick yell to send them on their way in his frustration.

“If you plan on taking my coin, you’ll have better luck with the Marines. Donations practically fly at those fools; all I carry is the grime truth.”

Xondoure/Zaneserri Darro

Flynn gives a whimper and a nod, as Asami grabs his arm and shoulder tightly to ensure he moves in the right direction.

“He’s with Blackfoot having a late night swim just off the starboard; he’s getting pretty good at that doggy-paddle. Come along Mr Flynn, it won’t be too uncomfortable as long as you tuck your legs correctly. Su’gun Dor is sleeping if you were wondering, if Jesse hasn’t woken him up.”

As your niece and unhappy customer disappear below the deck, you take another look at the approaching search crew. They are now at your neighbouring ship, complaining of the fish stink as two go below deck to search. The apparent leader of the group is fairly short, but they manage to pull the captain close, showing some badge to cut his claims of harassment short. One of the men waves his lantern in your direction, calling out to you,

“Please remain calm, sir. Just a security check of the ports, we’ll be boarding your vessel shortly.”

Moving calmly away to the starboard side, you can see Jorry’s flailing swimming technique is energetic enough to send small waves across the dock, but his head is holding above water beside the occasional dip. Whilst the rest of the crew naturally could swim competently, Jorry’s species could rarely even tread water, though he had found an unlikely teacher in your demolitions expert. Blackfoot was hanging onto the side of the Blue Gull, holding her small hand as a safety line for Jorry to grab if he became panicked. The usual result of his panicking ends with both kobold and cyclops soaked, but Blackfoot would always manage to calm the big guy into directing him back onto the ship.

“Come on, big guy, stroke, kick, stroke, kick. Keep your mouth out of the water, that’s great, keep going.”

“Arms are *gurgle* tired! Can I stop now?”

“Not until you’ve done five more circles, you can’t just stop swimming if you’re stuck in the ocean a mile from land.”

“Easy for *gurgle* you to say. Kobo*gurgle*s float.”

“Okay, I think that’s now ten circles until you’re done.”

“No fair! Oh, hey Zan. Can you tell Blackfoot to let me stop?”

[Xondoure]

Zan keeps his eyes on the men searching the other ship. He has to resist the urge to laugh. A security check on Bardocas.

"And on whose authority might that be?" he asks. His voice is as flat as the deck.

As he sees it, he has three options. The first is to hand over Flynn with a smile and a wave. As little as he likes the sniveling weasel, the idea doesn't particularly appeal to him. Reputation is as valuable as coin, and a double-crossing smuggler soon found himself without any clients. The second is to allow the men on board to search the ship. He doubts they would find anything provided Flynn didn't squeak. He'd managed to fool the Marines of Gareth on occasion. The third was to keep them off the ship altogether. Easy enough, provided they weren't backed by someone with very deep pockets, and a very long arm.

"I need both of you on deck, we may have some trouble here."

If he wasn't focused on other things, he might have noted Kat was clearly having a little too much fun with Jorry's inadequacy. There's not many things Jorry does poorly.

[Vael]

Fabrar Wayland

Fabrar’s face contorted with anger for a fraction of a second as his left hand touched the hilt of his short sword. Surely, he thought, he’d be doing the port officials of Bardocas a favor by executing this trotter-snatching drunkard. But he took his hand off the grip when he realized that such violence would separate him further from his meal when the sailors in the room tackled him. No, bloodying the sword was out of the question. Besides, he had never killed anyone. Just what would Elle and Vellis back home think if he did? And then, a wonderful idea came to mind.

Fabrar feigned astonishment at what Jed had said and giggled. He took a seat next to the man, who was polite enough to stare at whatever assets Fabrar had and not dive immediately into the bowl.

He scooted closer to the man, ran a hand up his arm, and put his mouth next to the man’s ear. Tempted to spit in it, he instead whispered with a seductive urban charm, “Actually, handsome, I’m one o’Rosie’s new guys.”

As if kicked in the groin, Jed flinched so stupendously that he nearly fell out of his chair. His mouth flew agape. In his effort to grab the table and keep himself from falling, he dropped the spoon, which Fabrar caught almost too eagerly. But though he had secured the spoon, he still needed to distract the man so he wouldn’t simply take the bowl and leave.

Fabrar put a finger to his own cheek and frowned, “Not the type? But you said yer name was Jed, eh? What a coincidence! I believe one’o the girls was waitin’ for ye in one o’de rooms. She’s one o’the new ones, but she’s heard all ‘bout yer...reputation here. They call ‘er- what was it now?- ah yes, ‘Fab-rear’ was’t. And I’m guessin’ ye can figure how she earnt that one.”

Instinctively, Fabrar winked and added a short chuckle. And yet, despite the promise of a fresh, young body for the night, Jed still stared hungrily as he averted Fabrar’s gaze.

“She’s mighty impatient, prolly leave if ye don’t find er now. You’ll have t’find the door, but just yank’t open once ye do. Don’t worry, I’ll keep this nice and warm for ye while ye give that girl some. And if ye ev’r change yer mind and yer willin’ t’pay I’m most certainly willin’ t’give ye something mem’rable.”

By that last word, though, the man had already risen from his chair. Wiping a hand against his forehead, he turned and opened his mouth as if he was about to explain something, but instead Jed dashed towards the rooms.

As soon as the man was out of eyesight, Fabrar smirked and then immediately submerged his spoon into the stew and devoured it greedily, lest “Wormwood” or another customer steal his meal. The taste was divine. The flavor so distinct, so flavorful, and so very different from the fish he ate fish back in Tanager, if perhaps a bit too salty. Still, the stew was a godsend for his empty stomach. Noticing the spoon was not fast enough for his pace he lifted the bowl and began to pour it into his mouth. He methodically ensured not a drop was wasted. He kept his eyes peeled for Jed, who Fabrar would surely be seeing later, but for now he managed to inhale the trotter stew within minutes and, for now, his stomach was appeased. As the last of the drops fell, he scraped the sides of the bowl with the spoon and looked around the room. Fabrar considered ordering a second bowl and retiring for the night.

[Raunchel]

Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

This seems interesting, very, very interesting. I would love to visit other islands. But it would be dangerous. Not only because leaving the city would give a wonderful opportunity to my rivals, but also because of the many risks of being at sea, which for me would be even worse. I cannot swim, and on a ship I would be exposed. Exposed to the sun and the elements. I like my palace, the thick walls make sure that the sun could never reach me, and I only ever go outside at night, unless I absolutely have to. On a ship all these precautions would become much more important, and difficult. And of course I need blood, quite a bit of it really. Here in the city it is easy, my people bring me my victims, drunks and other useless people who will not be missed. They die, yes, but that isn’t relevant, they don’t matter to me. I fear however that I can’t easily find someone on a ship, things will quickly become messy then, and I don’t want rumors. But, this is a wonderful opportunity for large profits. And if there is anything that I like it is profit. As much of it as possible.

“Ophelia, see to it that dinner is served, and please ask Drusilla to look at these papers for me”, I say, I don’t like to speak to her like this, but she will understand that it is for appearances. I have been considering making her like me. She has served me well, and I honestly like her. But that’s not what I should think about now. I have to find a solution. Moving my guests to the dining room at least gives me some time to think this over. Ophelia leads my guests to the dinner, and I walk with them. In my home I know the way and don’t require someone to lead me, which is another reason why I prefer to stay here. The servants know that they should avoid me, and they open the doors for me. Now that I think about it, I haven’t been alone for longer than a few minutes in my whole life. At least there are a few people who I can actually trust.

When we are seated, and the tea is served I say: “Be careful with the tea, it is a drink but it is hot, my contact’s first drink went badly when he tried to drink it all at once, and almost burned his tongue. But I assure you, the taste is something special.”

Ophelia folds back my veil, revealing my mouth. I take a sip from my cup, these have been imported from another island, the finest porcelain of the archipelago. I don’t taste a thing, but for appearances I drink, when my guests are gone my stomach will force it out again. That is very unpleasant, but it has to happen. The food will be far worse. Luckily I manage to avoid most dinners, so I don’t have to go through this all too often. “But to come back to what you mentioned before, the partnership. I have heard many things about your endeavors, and belief that cooperation would be profitable to the both of us. Of course the specifics of such an agreement would have to be decided upon, but I think that we will reach one. So please, tell me, what do you need. I have ships and men, of course they lack the experience you have in acquiring new islands, but under your guidance they should do well enough. And of course more can always be recruited.

I have to admit that such an expedition sounds thrilling, but I fear that I would only be an obstacle on such a journey. My witnessing of foreign lands would be rather limited, as you will doubtlessly understand. My condition would make proper reviewing of the events on such a journey rather difficult, but I have some very capable people in my employ, and they can report their findings to me.”

[Deathkeeper]

Rory

Oh, my. Forty silver? For that? At that rate I was going to end up fat. But nevertheless I'm saddled with one more delivery. Not too bad.
And then that happened. Oh happy days, more rats with wings.
"Well, if it isn't a chick with a rude mouth. And this hasn't got your name on it, so if it's yours you can take it up with the recipient. After I'm paid. " says I in kind. Probably not the best idea to goad her but whatever.
I ignore the glare I receive in turn and probably whatever the harpy said as I stretch my wings and take off again, this time flying low above the streets. If anything happened I could just shut my wings and land, where her speed won't do her any good. But then, I shouldn't have to worry. Who tries to mug someone in broad moonlight in the middle of the street? Moreover, who tries to mug a dragon?

[PseudoStraw]

Mare Maris

Her eyes narrowed as she watched the spectacle from the old human. She clasped her hand over her cut arm but she could feel the hot blood seeping into the salt sea. As the man finally turned and knelt before her she studied him closely, not looking towards the dwarf running out of the water.

She stared at him for a few long seconds before licking the ocean from her lips and smiling slightly. "No need to pursue, I have who I need right here. Do as you will with the others, if you want them dead, do be kind and leave them in the water, I have a friend coming who is expecting a meal."

Her eyes studied his feet as they rested on the still water as she circled around him. "Shall we talk on the shore, I am sure this spectacle of yours is quite exhausting..." She smiled seductively as she gestured to the shore and started leisurely swimming towards it, past the two captives. When her feet touched the soft sand she stood up, her clothing obviously weighing her down somewhat as she was sodden with sea water. Despite this she walked with elegance, her hips swaying as the water dripped down her body. She knew how to deal with human males, they enjoyed a show and she was not against giving them one. It wasn't as if she had the unlimited power she used to kill anyone she wanted anymore, so best to entice them instead.

When she got to the shore line she sat down on the sand and let her feet be lapped by the water as she waited for the man to follow her. After a moment she looked away from him and out to the horizon, sighing gently. "I am in need of some help, sir, and I think you could give it to me." Tracing her fingers through the sand she continued, "Someone has taken something very precious from me and I need someone strong to help me get it back. If you give me your name maybe we can talk about you helping me, as you show obvious skill and power on the waves."

She smiled to herself again, this man would be perfect. If she could make him strong enough, who was to say he couldn't stop the very Maw from endlessly churning up the waves with his incredible powers? If she could infuse him with the sea he could be the strength she so desperately needed... And what man in their right mind would deny her? If he dared she was sure that blasted shark would show up at some point and she could at least dispatch him via her finned friend.

She turned and fixed him with her sea-green gaze, "My name is Mare Maris, hero. Tell me yours and we might leave this filthy place together."

[Kaynebot]

Thagrosh leaning in, carefully listens to every word the gnome says. Which is quite rare as he can have a shamefully short attention span sometimes. Occasionally saying "uhuh" and "sure" during the monologue Thagrosh grins at the "juju" part, if only Marius had met while he had the "crystal." When Marius eventually finishes, Thagrosh stares at the hand thinking of his circumstances. He could try and rough him up for info, but that way didn't make friends. Or he could actually go and get this information. Decisions. Decisions. And more decisions.

Thagrosh inhales deeply before settling on a course of action. He declines shaking Marius' hand, in Thagrosh's village nobody shakes hands with those they don't know. "We have a deal, but I want the exact location, name of the current holder of this talking gem and I want it exact to just minutes before I walk in the door." Thagrosh states clearly and almost harshly. "I'll have your information when I'm back." And with those words Thagrosh spins away and begins walking out to go find this burnt out building. You should have beat him to a pulp and made him give you what you want! No, I can't make everyone an enemy, the crystal does not make me invulnerable. Are you sure? Thagrosh shakes his head dispelling the argument before continuing.

[GuyFawkes]

Levi T. Pendegraph

"Ho ho ho, I see we have quite the cast here," Levi nodded as the attendant went his way, then looked back at the Twins and grinned.

"Hey, you two? Remember that Pal...Paw...something. That woman with the shifty mechanical eye?" Levi asked. Hanya just shrugged noncommittally while Krevitz looked at the woman for a second before shaking her head.

"No? Hmm. Must be just my imagination. Ha ha ha!" Levi laughed while giving the ladies another squeeze. "Oh, what do we have here? Twelve-Fingered Tandy? Who's that?"

Krevitz shook her head. "Weren't you listening? The man just said who he was."

"Bah, I don't care. It looks fancy enough," turning to the lady to his right, he continued. "Wanna play? Let's see. If the bid reaches ten kilos, then feel free to raise the paddle."

Behind Levi's back, Hanya still looked as bored as hell. "Hey, aren't you gonna tell him about the letter?" He asked Krevitz.

"No need to tell him now. The note did say after the auction."

"Tell me what? What note?" Levi asked, prompting the two look his way.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with," Krevitz said coolly. Levi just shrugged and went back to his girls and the auction.

[Vegna]

PseudoStraw/ Mare Maris

The Marine nods at your statement, standing to walk over the elf. He points his stone trident at her, and then her injured accomplice,

“Pick up your blades and hand them to me, hilt first, then take him and leave. Let him be a future warning to attempting to take from others. If I see you again, I'll make the example myself. Now go.”

She scrabbles for the dropped knives as quickly as she can, before grabbing the burnt Ernest by the wrist, guiding him back to shore ahead of you both. By the time you have both reached the shore, they are long gone and the Marine kneels beside where you sit, his eyes briefly following your swaying body, his trident still raised in case of further, unlikely assailants. As you make your offer, his eyes follow your hand, curious to your motions or perhaps not making eye-contact out of respect.

“I am Harold Selgurd, my lady. A sworn Brother to the Marines of Gareth. If you have been stolen from, then I would be glad to aid you in retrieving this object.”

He now looks into your eyes, his expression not hard or stern, but joyless or even empty. You've seen that look before, often in the eyes of the few fools who attempted to attack you in your former glory, sailors with nothing left to lose. A man who is already dead inside rarely makes a serious threat, its the zealous or desperate that will go far enough to try and leap into your mouth to kill you.

“My only condition is that if I believe this endeavour to be of greater harm than good, then I will cease in assisting you. The Book of Gareth asks for duty to the greater ocean over any small faction. Is that fair to you?”

He looks at you emptily but squarely, perhaps to fathom if you will be truthful to him or not. You notice that even as his feet rest on the beach, the sea is still unnaturally calm, though some slight motions indicate whatever he was doing to the water was less effective on land.

LordDeathkeeper/Roran

“If you hand it over, we'll split it with you. Ninety-ten for being such a good little lizard. Don't turn your back on me, you're being very, very stupid.”

The sound of your wings flapping makes any remaining offers or curses at you inaudible as you take off. The wind is practically normal again as you fly low, the passing lights blurring underneath you as you pass over. The box rattles constantly inside your satchel, a tight fit, but a secure one. You start to hear something moving in the air behind you, mostly likely the harpy as you start to pick up some high-pitched yelling. A quick roll in the air confirms her following you, with an angered look on her face as she slowly starts to gain. As you expected and you start to land into the streets, still about ten minutes walk from the stall you guess, though you're so used to travelling through the air, you're not a hundred percent sure.

Whilst harpies enjoy air speed comparable to dragons, their walking speed can barely reach a jog and their hurried gait looks more comical than threatening. Seeing you touch ground, she just hovers above your position for a moment, before disappearing back over the building tops. After a short walk, you start to consider flying again, but looking up you can make out the harpy's outline now circling over you. The fifteen minute walk back to the stall is fortunately uneventful, proving as you thought she wouldn't have the gall to mug you, but you can still feel her eyes on your delivery, as she continues to follow you.

Your acquaintance is still at his same post, business having done well as his stall appears severely emptier, whilst his coin pouch looks much heavier. He appears almost surprised to see you again, but he gives a wide grin as your rattling satchel enters his hearing distance. He digs his hands into his pouch for you pay, as he greats you.

“Ah you're back. I wasn't expectin' ya back so quickly. I hope Jaspers din't under-pay ya for the letter, he can be a bit of a weasel sometimes. Now, if ya can pass over the box and you'll get yours.”

Vael/Fabrar Wayland

The nearby patrons let loose uproars of laughter as you send Jed stumbling away, some jeering at him as he runs up the stairs. Besides a single brief brawl, the customers are all fairly easy going and leave you alone, especially after the fight is stopped with Rose concussing both participants with her cooking tools and throwing them outside. As soon as you finish your bowl, one of the serving ladies is quick to attend you, giving a slightly giggling smile,

“Another stew for the young master? Anything else I can get for you? Ale? Stew? We have rooms at 12 coppers a night, company is extra.”

She ends with a brief wink, before taking any orders. A thick hand suddenly wraps around your shoulder, pulling you away from your attendant and spinning you around. The wide grin of your former Boson greets you, as he pats you heavily on the side, rattling your sword and bones.

“Lady Puke-Smith! I knew I’d find you here soon enough, glad you took my advice, lad. Come join the lads and me, they may hardly recognise you though now you ain’t green. I’ll even buy your next stew, considering I got ta eat your share on the ship.”

Gesturing behind him, you can see a collection of four other ship-hands, all holding their first tankards of the night in hand, awaiting their last member to join in a swig. One man’s arm is shaking under the weight of his drink, his face red as he fights to keep the ale raised.

“Is he comin’ or not, Harry? We’re dying of thirst over here!”

“Just shut up a second, Pete, you lasted the walk up here, you'll last another four bloody seconds.”

He sighs at his ship-mate with a grin at you,

“So, what do ya say, shall I bring ya stool over?”

Kaynebot /Thagrosh

Kru'Bask seems disappointed as you leave without a scene, having been apparently waiting with his weapon at the ready to swing as you cross the curtains. He drops the mast and lets you pass, as the scribe gestures to your weapon's obviously untouched state. You retrieve Rapture with a little effort, considering how well you embedded it into the floorboards if it wasn't so sharp, you could've ended embarrassing yourself trying to retrieve it. The scribe waves you off as you leave, passing a fresh customer on the way out.

Finding the correct street takes a bit of effort, but few people are willing to waste an armed man's time and you're pointed in the right direction soon. Its immediately clear which building is the you were looking for, as the smouldering wreck sits in the middle of an otherwise unburned street. This section of the city is relatively run-down, with humanoid and animal waste thrown from windows onto the cobblestones below. If this was the good side of the western island, you wondered how much worse it could be on an island this rich. The charred remains contain only the outline of ''Hubert Flynn's'' house, the wooden walls having collapsed inward or turned into ash.

Your instinct, or the echo of the crystal's instinct, tells you that this wasn't accidental. The front of the house is completely burnt, whilst the back wall still contains a few dying embers. It was an arson attack, possibly a controlled one to not burn down the whole street, but that could just as much be a case of luck with the collapsed walls smothering part of the fire. Another bit of possible luck with the fallen wall could mean that part of the building might have survived underneath the black wood, if you could dig it out.

Looking further around, the street is filled with hovels and there are windows facing the ruin all across the opposite side. Someone had to have seen something, houses don't just burn down without witnesses. The streets are practically empty at the hour, so you at least don't have to worry about anyone interrupting your investigation.

Raunchel/Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

Lord Selemchant takes a deep breath of the tea's scent, raising the cup to your health before drinking as you recommended. His wife and children cheers you as well, though by the brief sounds of pain coming from the youngest, Gregory didn't listen to your advice. Selemchant's cup practically rattles off of his saucer as you accept his proposal.

“Wonderful! This is wonderful to hear. I can promise you that this will make us both extravagantly better off. Well, what we first need is your vessels for the supply lines, my ships are adequate to move the goods, but they are built for combat, not moving cargo. What ships you provide will be in charge of increasing the distribution and transportation of our goods. And yes, fresh arms are always needed for claiming the Frontier. You provide what boys and girls you can, and I'll have them turned into soldiers within a few months. You certainly will not regret your choice. It is a shame that Edward will be venturing without your company, but we can certainly arrange for comfortable, if slightly exciting lodgings for who ever you wish to take you place.”

As dinner's various course are served, your guests appear very satisfied with your response, Lord Selemchant allowing even some minutes relative silence during the main course, though he is sure to constantly compliment your choices and its chef. His verbal energy having succeeded in earning your agreement to his cause, he finally seems to relax into enjoying your impressive home. The Selemchant estate being many degrees smaller than your, and rumoured to be extremely plain, the change of scenery . Gregory continues to show poor table manners, belching worse than his father and, from what Ophelia told you after the meal, kept making suggestive motions to her and some of the serving maids.

After dessert's spoons are finally rested inside their plates, the gentlemen all ask to excuse themselves. Gregory having enjoyed to much wine half-flees to the rest-room, Edward asks to take some fresh air and their father leaves to greet the kitchen staff, jokingly threatening to buy them off of you. You find you for the next few minutes alone with the Lady Selemchant-Warwick, having said even less than Edward through out the evening. Whether or not you wish to start a conversation, invite her back to the study or take a moment to eject the second half of dinner in privacy is at your decision, as she seems content to simply sit in silence.

GuyFawkes/Levi T. Pendegraph

The arm candy is happy to participate, taking the paddle and resting her body a little closer to Levi's in her pleased mood. The bid soon rise to ten kilos and she waves him in for eleven kilos, then thirteen and fifteen. And at seventeen, no one else is willing to out bid her and his new blade is taken off of the stage to be properly wrapped and will be given to him after the auction.

(Levi has the option of staying for the entire auction and bidding for any of the following notable items, otherwise the Twins can inform him about the offer or he can talk to other bidders)

“This item is a statue of the gorgon legend, as depicted by the renowned historical Te' Jeh. A extremely well crafted marble art piece, depicting the ancient beasts at the moment of their defeat, when in her loneliness the female gorgon gazed upon her male counterpart and cursed them both to eternity in stone. The realism is astonishing, as if they were the real things. We start at fifty kilos for this original piece from the artistic master.”

“Our next lot is a year's contract from the Gnomish company, Fathoming Fathoms, the underwater researchers and explorers with access to some of the rare submersible vessels. With this contract, you will have a year long access to your very own underwater ship and crew to pilot it, a rare opportunity to sea the ocean from the fishes side of the waterline. We have an starting bid at eighteen kilos of gold.”

“This has been kindly donated to us by the Marine of Gareth, a genuine piece of blue crystallized leviathan blood. These creatures have been long held as more legendary than kraken, the last sighting made more than two hundred years ago. This half-pound crystal sliver has been given to us in the hopes that the money raised will help feed the island of Yewan, bordering the Wastes as poor weather has led to food shortages this year. Do I hear twenty kilos?”

“And our last lot up for bid are ten crates of 'tea' leaves from the Diron Isle, brewed to make what I hear is a very unique flavour. This 'tea' is at a discounted value for this bid, in the interest of such fine people as yourself being able to try its taste first had. You may bid for individual crates or the whole lot, starting at one kilo a box or nine kilos for the whole lot.”

Xondoure/Zaneserri Darro

The man doesn’t say any more, simply smiling and awaiting whoever was leading the search. The ship’s captain seems to be getting the good news that they’re nearly done though, as the intruders are starting to leave now.
Blackfoot climbs quickly onto the deck as she is followed Jorry’s lumbering limbs, tipping the Blue Gull towards him briefly as his soaked body emerges from the waters. The kobold takes several steps away as the cyclops shakes his arms dry, showering the deck with a short rainfall. Rubbing water out of his ear, the large black eye looks at you loyally and happily,

“What trouble, Zan? Do we need to fight people?”

Blackfoot looks towards the search party, sniffing with an unimpressed look at their numbers. Pulling out a small hand-bomb and juggling it in her grasp, she gestures it towards the group.

“Them? They don’t look like much, maybe twelve tops. Jesse could probably take them out before they even stepped on the ship. Or I could blow up the pier, wouldn’t be enough left for evidence of us. Well, they’re coming right now, so what do you want us to do?”

By the time you’ve told your crew members what to do, you can see the light flooding behind you from the collection of torches. The men and women standing near your ship are all dressed in simple mail, with clubs and short swords at their hips. One man, thin like a rake and armed with a thin rapier, is at the front presenting his badge with a bored look on his face.

“Order of The Merchant Lords Court, we require a search of your vessel. Do we have permission for myself and two of my men to board?”

He seems very tired or disinterested with the whole job, but his badge is serious business as you can read it. The Merchant Lords Court is Bardocas’ closest thing to a government, where the Lords control the various piers across the island and decide who can use them. Any Lord could bring the hammer down in the piers, but it was usually bad for reputation and influence in the Court to try and arrest competitors. In Flynn’s case though, unless he happened to have a rich Lordly uncle that he’d never told you about, no one would really care about what happened to a small-time fence like him. Flynn never seemed the type to try to get up a Lord’s nose, always content with his coin and giving into any bigger competition. What must he have down to get one, or you hoped just one, on his trail?

[Vael]

Fabrar Wayland

So this was the “Stern Rosie’s”, Fabrar thought. Between the gruff voices of dockworkers and the girls, he figured this was the place Harry had mentioned.

Fabrar returned the grin, “Of course! I don’t think I could refuse another bowl and merry company such as this.”

That much was true, and not just for his stomach. Despite fearing the sea, he’d spent most of his time on deck. Specifically, with his torso over the railing. But despite that... unpleasantness, the crew had enjoyed his tales and ones borrowed: the mysterious smoke columns that rose above the northern mountains of Tanager; the fate of those who cross paths with the riselka; the tale of a wandering thief killed in the night. The last one he had made himself. What luck that he had been guided here! As Fabrar walked to the table, he mused that if such luck continued he’d find his brother tomorrow for sure.

After signaling for another bowl, Harry grabbed the stool from the rim effortlessly and dropped it with a thud between his own and Pete’s. Fabrar quickly ordered a tankard of ale before from the serving lady before sitting down. He didn’t want to be left out, and, besides that, the saltiness of the stew made him thirsty. He’d seen enough water for the day anyway.

“Hope you guys enjoyed the entertainment earlier.”

He kept it short, as Pete's arm looked like it could fall off any second.

[Deathkeeper]

Rory

((I'll have you know Mr. Narrator that my wings are very quiet, thank you very much))
"Your bribing needs work."
is all I leave the pigeon with as I depart. Some people might say that walking through a crowded street is slow and difficult, but those people aren't seven feet tall. Consciously or not, people make way for dragons.
I grin as I approach the stall again. Maybe I'm just a sucker for compliments, but I can't help that.
"Being speedy is my job, sir. I don't think he was too stingy, but if you'd like to tip in his place you're welcome to."
I look around a bit to make sure no one's planning on jumping out as I reach into my bag. Pressing the box firmly into his hands,
"I had to deal with a harpy trying to get her claws on your stuff, and that doesn't happen often. Should I be worried about anything?"

[Raunchel]

Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

He is happy, good, this lord has made quite a name for himself, and has made huge profits. This agreement might bring me much good, and exciting tales from my people, most journeys they tell me about are hopelessly dull. Luckily I don’t have to go on a ship, from what I’ve heard they are horrible things, without any of the basic luxuries that a person needs. This Gregory is an annoying person, if I had been his parents I would have arranged for an accident, he shames them by his poor manners. Maybe they are still thinking about how to do it, or they might even think that something can be done for him. They are wrong, what is rotten never becomes fresh again, just like death never truly returns to life. The thought saddens me, there are so many things I miss, even though I do realize that there are advantages to my state. What I miss most of all is the warmth, I always feel cold now, except on the hottest of days. I might increase the heating of my private rooms, but my girls would find that uncomfortable, and I want them to have some comfort in their life.

The lady is intriguing, she doesn’t say much, but that means nothing. Quiet people sometimes can be far more interesting than those who speak. Now that we are alone, except for Ophelia. But then again, I never am alone for long. I say: “It is good to be with only ladies for a few moments, don’t you think, my lady?”

[GuyFawkes]

Levi T. Pendegraph

"Good job! Do you want to keep it?" Levi asked the lady after the sword was packed and moved backstage.

While the next item was being prepared, Levi kept on eyeing the two gentlemen pointed and the lady, and decided to make a move. He stood up abruptly then turned towards the two girls.

"If you'll excuse me ladies, I have business to attend to. Of course you know, these events are but an excuse for rich men to gather and mingle with other rich men. Or women. Ha ha ha! Don't worry, I won't be long. Meanwhile, the Twins over there will accompany you. Don't worry, they don't bite. Well, not too sure about that mutt over there," he motioned at Hanya, who in turn flipped his middle finger back at him.

"See? But he's harmless. Ha ha ha! Anyway, just ask them what to bid for. They'll know the best ones to get. See ya!" he said before turning around and walking away. As soon as the statue of the gorgon was carried forth and placed in front of everyone, Levi had made his way halfway across the room.

"M'lady," he approached the lady sitting in front of him with a bow, the one the attendant called Madam Paub. "Would you mind if I keep you company?"

Back with the Twins and the girls, Krevitz was the only voice of reason, keeping her brother in check, as well as the girls.

"Get the leviathan blood. And the tea leaves."

[PseudoStraw]

Mare Maris

She nodded curtly and stared at the Marine squarely in the eyes, "My cause is the ocean's cause. Without the object I seek the ocean will all but collapse under its own bile and treachery. " She finished her sentence spitting the words out like venom.

Picking herself up off the sand she stopped her alluring gate and instead took on the stance of a woman who now had the first piece to the ever growing puzzle. She turned her face away from the waves and towards the screaming city, squinting her eyes as she watched plumes of smoke and filth rise from the rooftops.

"I am glad to have you by my side, Selgurd but two cannot pilot a ship. I need a crew and a man to lead them. You will find me this crew but I will join you as we go through this vile place as I need to know that I can trust them."

Moving away from the water's edge she turned and glanced longingly at the sea before climbing up onto the wooden walkways and towards the city, wrinkling her nose as the vile stench of illness and death.

[Kaynebot]

Thagrosh grins at Kru'Bask on the way out thinking another time perhaps. Getting to the house he was almost surprised to see the embers still burning. He looks around and feeling the sense brings a pang of wistfulness. If only I had it, He would tell me more meaningful things than this

Thagrosh tries to carefully pick his way across the burnt remains. He knows the burnt stuff will still be hot but maybe by looking through he could find something, accelerant or anything.

After stomping around the burnt house he stands in front of the closest untouched house. Debating whether to bust down the door. He could knock...or he could bash it in. Again siding more passively he knocks harshly on the door. While waiting for someone to get to the door he thinks of what the gnome wants to know. 'Who started the fire and Why?' Dang why couldn't it be something simple like rough this guy up or beat so-and-so to a pulp, oh well Thagrohs sighs heavily.

Assuming someone answers the door Thagrosh has a barrage of questions about what did he/she see and hear? Was there anything odd? And lastly who did it? Just to be blunt. Then again if no one answers then Thagrosh will resort to breaking down the door and forcefully asking these questions.

[Vegna]

PseudoStraw/ Mare Maris

Very satisfied with your response, he raises his weapon in a salute to you. Leading in front and using his trident to gently push through the crowd, Selgurd guides you through the city. Despite his best efforts, you are continuously bumped and knocked aside by the indignant, passing inhabitants.

“I know of some good sailors, willing to give a Marine and their allies free passage to most islands in exchange for protection. They do not have the fastest or strongest ship, but it is clean and its people are always willing to help our cause.”

A gust of air blows through the city, sending a shudder through your body as you nearly fall over from it. The sensation from the wind is odd, perhaps in the fact that it has been so long since you had last been touched by wind. It sits on your mind for the rest of the journey through the city, until you are greeted with the pleasant sight of the ocean and the vessels sitting within it. Selgurd leads you towards a sloop, a very low and relatively small sailing vessel, perfect for dipping your toes in the water on those long journeys, the words “Autumn's Leaf” painted on the hull. In your personal history with such boats, they were very fragile with even a single flick of your tail able to shatter them into pieces. Selgurd hops on board and raps his knuckles against the door to the lower cabin. A very tired 'elf' steps out, dress only in his under-bottoms and candle in hand to look at you both. He squints for a moment before recognizing Selgurd with a gentle pat on the shoulder.

“When I said you could call on me any time, old friend, I had hoped it would be during the waking hours. What are you doing at my door at this unholy time, Harold? And you have brought a companion, is she a Marine-in-training?”

“No, Yelleh, she is an . . ally. Her mission is important and we will need transport. Can I count on you to help us?”

The elf raises his light towards you, looking you up and down. He yawns and gestures for you both to come inside his cabin. In the candle light, you can see maps, inks and a compass on an oddly shaped desk, the sides appearing rough and uneven, whilst the top is completely flat. Yelleh places the candle in a holder, as he sits into his hammock to rest his legs.

“You should know, the waters have been odd these past months. Dead fish appearing across the waves, and then the sea serpents that have been eating those bodies and any ships unlucky enough to be nearby. Its not safe beyond the Lords' Waters. Regardless, if you're serious enough to ignore my advice, I'll still need about six hours sleep and a heading first. What exactly am I getting myself into here?”

LordDeathkeeper/Roran

He gives you another ten silver and his thanks as he places the box on his side of the stall. No one seems to be making any moves for another dock-dash-deal, especially with your presence watching over the stall. Only that circling harpy above remains, her flight path raising slightly higher, filling you with some unease. The stall owner's elderly human eyes look above at your comment, but don't appear to notice her shrinking shape, content with you as security. He does seem very displeased with what you said, though.

“Mouth eat ya, Jaspers, he was supposed to at least pay those for security, probably ended up cutting a few coins, but still tha principle is what matters, goes to show you can't trust a pretty face these days. Blasted gulls, well I got it now and I think its time to close up shop. Thank ya, dragon, you've really helped me out tonight.”

He gathers his goods into his bag, starts to take his stall apart and throw it all into a wheelbarrow, the the box resting just beneath its handles. A faint rattling reaches your ears as he works, coming from further down the street. You look towards the Messenger's Guild and manage to spot something moving around on the roof, your roof! The rattle sounds like whoever the intruder is, are messing around with your tent, the supportive poles complaining as they grate on one another. The man uses his box as a brief seat, tired of his efforts and ignorant of what seems to be going on.

“It doesn't get any easy as ya get older, I'll tell ya that, dragon. I've been working for about twenty years and only after all that back breakin', kissin ass and chasin' thieves, I think I'll be able to sit on my laurels for once. Maybe buy a house near the Lord estates, not too close, but close enough to not smell the ****. Give the grandkids the stall, make 'em contribute to their dad's house. Din't do me much harm, worked to a decent spot, some good working money and even have a dragon watching over the area. Do dragons retire? I never see any of your lot who weren't on some job or quest. Maybe ya don't get old like we do. Bloody jealous that makes me, another hundred years in me and I could've made myself a Lord.”

He simply laughs to himself as he stops talking and takes a sip from a water skin, half rambling to himself.

Vael/Fabrar Wayland

“Down the mouth, boys.”

The tankards clang together and are upturned into the thirsty crew's lips, the contents completely drained in a few, dribbling seconds. The metal bottoms rattle against the table, with a satisfied cheer going around the men for
“Another, another! Stew, stew!” Pete is volunteered to pay for this round, making his way to the bar as Ulmer, the wiry look-out, gives you a solid pat on the back.

“That's the best show I've ever gotten here for free. The look on his face was priceless, like a flappin' fish! Always good to see the proud land-lubbers getting' what they deserve, present company excluded of course. You at least know how to spin a good tale and ain't got thought of high and mightiness. I tell you, they spend every day of their lives of solid rock and act like the world isn't any bigger than their shore. Think that Eyeless Jack is just a-”

“That's enough Ulmer, its bad luck to speak of 'im.”

The lookout waves away Harry's complaint, his first ale having already given him the bravardo to talk up to the muscled boson and simply leans over close towards you, giving Harry a smug grin.

“Its only bad luck at sea. There ain't no blue-eyed Rogers in Bardocas. Listen Puke-Smith, that Jack, our captain saw him once, back when he and Harry were working as mercenaries. What must've been two years ago now, they were just a couple of hired guns. Their captain has the crew after some stolen merchant vessel, filled with cloth or gold, I dunno. Anyway, about five days of shadowing the pirate's sail, the crow's nest, the captain and Harry, notice its stopped trying to get away and its actually turning to face us. Ship's captain orders to prepare for battle, gonna take her here and now. Then the next thing Harry see on the horizon is another ship, looks like a empty wrecked hulk that just free-sailing, but it is moving pretty straight to meet the pirate's. He says the merchant ship is changing flags, a blue-eyed Roger. Harry and the captain's crew have all heard the stories so now every one is making water in their boots as they keep going forward. Then the strangest thing happens, the wreck, Jack's ship, fires on his pirates! No calls, sailors on deck or anything, the moment that it passes by the merchant ship, all the cannons fire and this several ton bit of wood is just splinters on the foam. And at the wheel, Harry sees a dead-man steering."

“He wasn't dead, Ulmer. Dead men don't steer.”

“You said you saw a skeleton with one arm and glowing eyes at the wheel.”

“I know, but I'd had a few when I told you. He was thin and he was steering with one arm, that doesn't mean he was dead or missing the other one.”

“Well, I like my version better and I think you, Harry. Anyway, he's probably blowing up his crew around the Wastes right now, so no worries about dead sailors. Puke-Smith, you agree right?”

“That's enough. You've had your fun tellin' it, so just let it lie. You gotta be thinking about your brother, anyhow Wayland, how you want to try and catch him, not Ulmer's stories. If I was your brother, I'd have tried to find out a way to get where I was going. Meaning a ship or taking to people who can help him. The dockmasters, they'd have noticed a little kid trying to ask for directions. Don't give a damn about much besides the shipping tax, but they'd notice him.”

Kaynebot /Thagrosh

Searching through what remains of the house, your foot taps something metal that rolls forward as you accidentally kick it. Looking closer at the item, it looks first like some kind of broken cup until your echo chimes in again, its a metal casing for torches you idiot, in order to help them hold their shape. The wooden and tar from the offending torch is now only ash, but a casing like this isn't bought unless the torches are owned by someone with money who wants a little more class. A clue all the same.

A broken nose juts from an equally ugly face, his face furrowed in shock of your odd appearance. The owner of the door takes few seconds to listen to your question, before he yells,

“Bugger off!”

The door rudely slammed in your face, the offender man's garlic breath hanging in the air. The echo directs the appropriate application of force to impact width and direction, breaking the door's lock as your foot kicks into the room. Inside about five more equally ugly men sit around a card game, a small pile of junk gems and copper coins resting the middle of them. Each of them is covered in cheap leather armour, knifes and different patterns of tattoos and scarring. Their expressions quickly shift from surprise to anger, as the one who opened the door quickly pulls a knife from his side.

“I though I told ya ta bugger off!”

His throw is painfully telegraphed, instinct telling you to simply turn. A high-pitched ring fills the air as the knife scrapes against Rapture and flies outside to clatter on the cobblestones. The group barely notices though, drawing their own daggers and clubs, preparing to remove you with their superior numbers. The thrower is stunned by his miss, snarling as he draws another two, throwing them with even worse accuracy in the vague direction where you were standing.

Even combined, they look like a poor replacement for fighting Kru'Bask, but you might need the warm up later. You'll just need to hold back enough to leave one able to tell you if they did see anything. Just listen to the flow of battle, use their numbers against them, let them try to kill you through each other. The echo has grown weaker with each year since that day, but it what remained still cared for self-preservation and efficient battle.

Raunchel/Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

The Lord Selemchant's cries of thanks can be heard faintly echoing from the kitchens, whilst his wife takes another brief sip from your tea, with some quiet noise of contentment.

“My husband is an energetic man, he always wishes to move forward. He would conquer the entire Archipelago if he had the time and the men. But we live briefly, compared to the some of the other species that we live with alongside and so eventually he must entrust his legacy to those of the next generation that will carry on his work. That will be our sons, even George, and now yourself. You are wise beyond your years, but you have no chosen heirs or interest in social ties. You may be well minded in business, but you consult with pirates who have raided your fellow Lords. You worry me, Lord Hastur-Vartul, and I do not enjoy worrying about my sons future. If you are offended, then I do apologize but despite what I said, I do respect your position enough to be truthful with you.”

By the time you have replied (or not) to the Lady Selemchant's statement, The Lord returns from his forceful thanks to your surprised chefs, marching cheerful towards his wife to stand beside her.

“Sorry to have left you both alone too long, ladies. I just had to purchase your soup chef's services for an evening to teach mine that delicious recipe. Anyway, the hour is becoming late and the work is never over, as we all know, I'm afraid we will have to beg your forgiveness and leave as soon as my youngest has returned. You have been a most excellent hostess, my lady, I would love to invite you over to our estate and return the favour whenever you wish it. We may not have tea, but I am sure that our chefs may be able to match yours.”

After a few minutes, George is found and guided outside by his brother, both giving a thank you for your efforts. Edward's is curt, whilst his brother slurs into suggestive talk directly to Ophelia before Edward pulls him away towards the carriage. The Lord gives a deep bow, fighting against his broad stomach, whilst his wife curtsies quaintly. As you hear the pebbles crunched beneath the wheel start to fade away, Ophelia audibly relaxes beside you.

“I pray they were not too intrusive, my lady. I personally hope that their son is given the strongest headache the Hungry God can curse him with, and Lady Selemchant-Warwick was very rude, she knows nothing about you.”

Now rid of your guests and with no other business beside the contract, you now have the freedom of your estate to enjoy again. In the unlikely event of wishing to do something intensive, Ophelia will recommend the adjustment of your outfit to something more suitable before hand.

GuyFawkes/Levi T. Pendegraph

Levi's offer earns him a kiss on the lips from Lily, running her fingerss through his hair for two seconds of passionate fire before releasing him and looking pleased as she returns to focusing on the auction. They are both visibly disappointed as he stands up to leave, their expressions briefly becoming worse at the sight of your bodyguards, though once they hear you're turning over the reins, they are smiling again and dragging Hanya down to join them in your former seat.

“What's your name, handsome? You look wild, not like an evil pirate, but one of those sexy heroes that swoop in to save girls like me.”

“I bet he could take on a whole ship full of pirates, Cassandra. And these tattoos, they're so . . intricate. Do you mind if I touch them?”

Madam Paub is continuing to bid for the gorgon, as you approach her, the golden eye spinning to stare unerringly at you first, the iris and pupil intricately engraved into the solid orb of gold. She is dressed in many layers of thin cloths of mixing colours, twisting in shade the more you look at it; her jewellery containing a pair of golden bracelets depicting some battle or story in the carvings. She could possibly look very beautiful if she didn't look so serious. Now the proud owner of the stone statue, she turns her head to look directly at you, an eyebrow raised at your offer,

“I am surprised that you required more company, considering your troupe you already have, Mr Pendegraph, but very well, you may join me. My only condition is that if you attempt to convince me to grant you gold, I will treat you like a fool for the rest of this conversation. Your male bodyguard appears to be enjoying himself, a perk he doesn't seem to enjoy often by the looks of things.”

She nods toward Hanya, waving away the gnomish bid and resting the paddle on her lap. The golden eye darts over your body, monitoring every detail including your mouth as you speak or each motion of your hands. Madam Paub seems to ignore its actions, her good eye maintaining contact with yours.

“What are you here for then? You don't appear interested on any of the items that have passed by, else you would have brought your paddle. I have heard little of you, Mr Pendegraph, a merchant with considerable growth in the past few years. Are you simply here for the company? Or has a certain trinket not arrived on stage yet?”

[Raunchel]

Serdynage Hastur-Vartul
Her words shock me, she is rude, no one ever speaks to me that directly, at least not anyone of our class. Only Jessili may do so, but she is wild, unlike this lady.

“I know that it seems strange, but large social events are difficult for me. I find it hard to know who I am talking to, especially when people keep moving around. But there is no reason to worry, I have made the necessary arrangements for if I would pass away before there is a direct heir. I however prefer to keep the exact arrangements secret to prevent disharmony between my relatives. The most horrible things have happened in such cases. And those tales about pirates, well, they simply are fabrications. After all, how should I bring a known criminal into my household, and what would it give me. Yes, I have spoken to those who employ a little more violence than most merchants, but I assure you that I have never yet knowingly conversed with a pirate.”

When the lord returns and invites me I don’t like it. I will have to visit him. “I thank you for your compliments and would certainly love to visit your estate, and to taste what your renowned chefs produce. It has been a great pleasure to receive you here, good conversations are rare and your tales were very interesting. I hope to hear more of them soon.”

“They were horrible people, Ophelia, and they should discipline that boy, he was rude and a terrible person. And if that fails they should arrange an accident. I am very sorry that you had to put up with him. The lady is their driving force, the lord is a fool, and the lady controls him, but she tries to hide it. She is intelligent, she tries to just gain impressions. But she has revealed herself, she knows much, she has studied me. Without her we would easily play them all, now it is a little harder. But she is worried, she knows that death will come for her, but not in the way that it has come to me.

You sound tired and I think that you would prefer to retire for the night, Lucinda will take over from you. But before you retire I want to ask you something. You have been with me for years, and have always been loyal and good to me. You have served me the longest and you know that I trust you. What I mean to say is, would you join me in my state between life and death? I know that this is a big decision, if you want to think about it first, please do so.”

[Vael]

Fabrar Wayland

Eyeless Jack. Fabrar had heard the stories before, mainly from besotted sailors. Most of the merchants or arms dealers that would come to his family’s smith never mentioned such a thing. Most dismissed the figure as an old wives’ tale... or rather a sailor’s tale, which could be even more far-fetched. Still, that uncertainty between fiction and reality, the line that Fabrar knew very well, was somehwre lost in those seas, and he couldn’t help but shiver slightly upon hearing it.

“Yeah, I was thinkin’ that myself. The snake bite or shyness would tip off even the most gold-scrounging of them. And yet...”

Yet Fabrar didn’t even want to think of his brother getting on another ship. Another voyage. The sea. The tempest of waves. The unending peril forth brought. The cyclical, bowel-upturning motion that rendered him a husk drained by the salted breeze and the churning waves. And to think those were the calmest seas in months! He never knew why the seas abused him so, but his fears were all but confirmed when his parents left. And, if he wasn’t quick, they would claim his brother too.

He broke off from his daze and continued, “I really don’t want to be puking my way across the seas this soon. I’ll be headin’ to the dock masters, of course, and maybe a few of the dockworkers too. If they haven’t seen him, I know a merchant-”

The thud of the platter with the clatter of bowls broke off his sentence. Pete raked the legs of his stool from the table and sat down with a satisfied grin. The lady who laid down the platter was taking further orders of beer and bread. The stew sloshed onto the platter as everyone reached for the closest bowl among them, with dribbles of stew falling onto the table and their arms. Fabrar was thankful for the diversion, as every thought about his brother urged him more and more to call out in the streets in the light of the moon and torches.

Fabrar did not inhale his stew as ravenously as before. Rather, he interjected comments in the conversations of rumors, landlubber jokes, and woman between gulps of stew. Still, the bowl was downed before anyone else could finish.

[PseudoStraw]

Mare Maris

Following the "marine" through the vile city she sneers and half growls at every human, dragon or gnome stupid enough to touch her as they bumble through. In her mind she took mental note of every indignation, every shallow bottom feeders comments, every nudge and touch.

By the time they have come back round to the docks she is pushing fifty indiscretions and knew without a doubt that when she got her body back she would be destroying this pus filled blister of an island and laying the morons that live on it to waste.

She looked at the tiny boat she was being lead to and raised an eyebrow. This was what she would be dealing with? It was close to the water, for sure, but she might as well just call upon the help of a whale or a large shark if she wanted to sit on some unsteady slab of filth for weeks. She sighed, might as well see if they had a good crew, maybe the ship goes down, a vertical ship was not so farfetched. Maybe it cuts through the sea like a knife and she could sit in the bottom, surrounded by the sea and not having to deal with the mortals. Perhaps, if it was such a ship it would cut through the Maw before it could rip it asunder... A beast can dream.

As soon as she stepped onto the deep brown of the treated wood a flash of recognition ran through her head. No, she remembered these things now. A sloop is what the mortals called them. A damned fishing boat no doubt. The only part that sat under the water was the long rudder that jutted from the back, she often remembered swimming through her seas and feeling that long piece of wood snap off on her head. Sometimes the damned thing would get stuck in her tentacles and it would take an age to find it and remove it... Yes, she remembered that. The flash of recognition left her dizzy for a second before the door opened on the tiny vessel and an elf stepped out.

He stood there, pale as the day he was born with only a piece of cloth to hide his "shame". She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, this was ridiculous. Her manservant seemed to know these scrawny mortal and they were lead into the small cabin at the back.

She waited and listened, her brow furrowing at the news of dead fish, this was not good at all. When the elf finally stopped talking and both of the males turned to look at her she spoke up. "I need to get to the Maw. If I do not get there these dead fish will turn into dead people. Something grave is happening to these waters and I am the only one who can stop them. If you believe your tiny boat will get us there fast then when we arrive I will give you your boats weight in gold." She tapped her gold covered sword to show that she was not lying, "I have more gold than any other person in all of the sea. If you think your ship will be ripped apart before we can even leave the safety of the "kings waters" though I will find someone with a larger boat and more... crew."

She was done with cooing and acting the fair dame. Her sea was in trouble and if it was only one elf and his tiny ship that would get her to her goal then so be it. She would have to do this one way or another...

[Deathkeeper]

Rory

Confound it all. Really? Messing with my stuff? It won't do any good, after all. Anything bigger than a copper goes into my safe-deposit box at the guild's bank, so what I've been paid tonight could cover almost everything in my tent. And of course the guy doesn't notice anything that's going around. Why don't humans have any decent natural means of perception?
"We go home when we retire, that's why you don't see our elders around. But by the way, can you get home by yourself? If the pigeons are trying to shake me down for a package there's no guarantee they won't mug you for it. Speaking of which, hold your ears, please.
HEY! GET OUTTA MY TENT YOU FREELOADER!
So yes, I do believe someone's robbing my tent. Nothing really in it, though, so if you'd like I can stick around for a while. You know what they say 'bout folks who talk about retiring in the face of trouble."
I flap my wings and hop on to the nearest supported structure, still within talking distance of the man but with a better view of the roof.

[Kaynebot]

Thagrosh instantly felt the adrenaline course through his massive body. Muscles tensed, his eyes sharpened, and his mind worked faster. After simply ducking the first blade he charged the man, two more knives missing. The voice began its evaluation but Thagrosh knew it would be unneeded, he listened intently cherishing every word.

Deciding the first man should live as Thagrosh charged him he simply brought his fist up head level and felt his bare knuckles collide with the nose feeling it collapse as the man's feet began to slide out from under him. The crystal noting one threat down, let them crowd each other he hissed while Thagrosh immediately assessed the next man who was already in his face.

A bigger fatter man was swinging a knotted ineffective club down at a sharp angle, probably aiming for Thagrosh's head. Thagrosh distinctively brought his left arm up bearing the edge of his bone on the side of the arm striking the man just below his grip on weapon. Before the man could react Thagrosh flipped his hand out grabbing the man's wrist in a crushing embrace. The man grunts as Thagrosh feels a bone pop in a way in shouldn't but not dwindling on it Thagrosh quickly took and his other hand and shot it forward wrapping around the man's throat in tight embrace, then in one smooth movement swung his foot behind the man's and crashed it into his heel, throwing his upper body downward making the man crash into the floor with a ton of force.

The split second it took to do this the other 4 were rushing Thagrosh. The crystal yelling jump back and duck, Thagrosh effortless listened without question and ducked his head while rolling backwards. The space his had occupied was now being controlled by almost all of the weapons of the men. Thagrosh stood quickly and withdrew Rapture roaring in the victory that would easily be at hand. He swiftly swung Rapture out and made a wide horizontal arc making the group fall back and scoring the far right man across the ribs. Thagrosh and the crystal smelled the blood. Alright, forward, parry, riposte, strike, dodge the crystal called out as Thagrosh dashed forward holding Rapture like a spear. A man on the left struck out with a crude knife as the voice had forseen and Thagrosh quickly swept it aside and finishing the spin on Rapture sunk it straight through the man's sternum and out his back with a spray of blood soaking the floor, table, and one of the guys.

And when the Voice said strike again Thagrosh knew exactly where it meant. Thagrosh twisted Rapture and yanked sharply back towards himself. The blade smoothly came out from the entrance with a burst of blood at the same time the momentum of the man carried him straight towards Thagrosh, who pulled his leg up and kicked him towards another assailant who was still alive. Incapacitating him with a dead friend for the time being.

And the dodge was a simple calculation after years upon years of fighting the crystal knew one of the men was going to take a chance at Thagrosh's "opening." Thagrosh simply sidestepped the fourth assailant's pitiful attempt at a lancing strike. Then making half a turn he trapped the man's arm in between his free right arm and his body. Thagrosh brought Rapture down severing muscle, ligaments, and bone with ease. Blood erupted spraying everyone there and before the hand still clutching the knife could hit the floor Thagrosh spun twirling the blade cut the man's stomach open and finishing the spin with Rapture still maintaining momentum cut man's head off. Blood and gore spewed forth even more. The time it took Thagrosh to do the complete three hundred sixty degree turn making two very light slashes was the same time it took the severed hand with the knife to hit the floor also being parallel with the other two men realizing what had happened to both of their buddies.

One man with a broken nose, one unconscious on the floor, and two more brutally murdered men laying on the floor and two more to go. Thagrosh barely worked up a sweat and already the battle seemed almost over. "You better not be thinking about running. He stated in a cold harsh completely devoid of emotion or feeling...except the slight glint of superiority at the back of the monster's eyes, flickering as if candle that had just been lit. The two men both covered, no drenched, in the blood of their companions stood shocked. Thagrosh knew he could finish them off before they moved but he'd rather have the fight. "Come on! Slay the monster I am. Thagrosh growls at them seeing their paralysis.

"AGHHHH!!!" The one who had just had a dead body on him shouted as he charged. Thagrosh and the voice analyzed the charge completely. As the ugly blood stained person charged Thagrosh. Thagrosh slid his foot back and prepared to brace Rapture at the last second to receive the charge ideally. As the bloodied man charged Thagrosh didn't expect was for him to slip on the blood and his club went from aiming for Thagrosh's chest to his knee. It was so sudden that he barely had to dodge right, but even then it struck straight onto the side of his knee. He grimaced feeling his leg almost give way. The crystal swore at the unexpected circumstances. Thagrosh went down on one knee and as the man who struck him slide right by slipping on the blood. The other man took his chance and charged as well.

Thagrosh growled and waited for the last second before jumping up and into the man. He took a hit to his ribs but he was so close to the man the force did nothing. Thagrosh kneed the man in the gut as he was too close to use Rapture. The crystal said watch and reacting Thagrosh leaned out of the way adjusting one foot to be sure-footed while still being in the same vicinity. The guy who slipped had got back up and prepared to strike out at his enemy when he moved and all the sudden he watched his club go straight towards the man's head. Thagrosh watched it happened and when the swing was good his took his good leg(the one that didn't get struck) and pulled it up and struck the last standing man. The man stumbled back and Thagrosh twisted around cracking him across the face with his elbow followed by Rapture cutting a gash across his chest. Thagrosh moved forward and swung Rapture at a downward angle taking the man's legs out from under him. "Its all over now" Thagrosh calmly said before he staked him through the heart.

Now that everybody was down and out Thagrosh took the moment to stand up straight and collect his breath. The weight behind Rapture is almost unnatural he thought as he was standing there. As Thagrosh calmed down he knew the voice would recede again just like his adrenaline. It made him wish there were more enemies to fight. At the center of his mind all he could think about was bringing the voice back. He almost walked out the door to start a deathmatch right then and there. But as usual he restrained himself sighed and walked over one of the unconscious men, he didn't have a broken nose so he must not have been the one to answer the door, therefore he didn't need him. Thagrosh hefted Rapture up again and struck the man through the heart. Then he walked over to the 'doorman' and drug him by an arm into the house a little more where there was less blood.

[GuyFawkes]

Levi T. Pendegraph

"Oh, those lame-ass pirates? Psshh, they're nothing! A whole ship of those ninny's won't even be a decent fight!" Hanya replied, trying to sound as cool as he could, but his expression betrayed him.

"Here, got this one just last week. Nothing much. Like it?" he showed one tattoo on his right arm that looked like a weird-looking monster. "Go ahead. Feel free to touch them. They won't bite. Ha ha ha ha!" In the back, Krevitz just sighed and shook his head.

Back at the other side of the room, Levi took his seat. "Thank you. Well, that's what you have lackeys for, right? They'll take care of that. Anyways, I haven't seen anything that catches my fancy yet. Not on the stage anyway," he said with a wink.

"Do pray tell, have we met before, Madame?"

[Xondoure]

"No trouble yet. But there's a chance things could get interesting. Head down below deck quickly. If for whatever reason I am forced to allow them to search the ship and they start poking their noses in the wrong holes act like they woke you up." He grinned at her. "That should send them packing. Jorry, you're with me."

With any luck this would be an easy thing to smooth over. Zan had never put much store in luck. He kept his expression pleasant while the man drones out his instructions. Smiling slightly when they request permission.

"I'm afraid there isn't really any reason for it. We only just got in and have no intentions in port other than to pick up provisions for our next destination." At this four solid looking gold coins glimmer in the palms of his open hands before vanishing again. "Some of my crew's still resting and I'd hate to disturb them."

He offers them his hand, carefull to once more flash the glittering metal cupped in his palm.

The coin amount is fairly random. Let's say it's slightly above average for a port bribe. Not enough to be noticeable, but just tempting enough to be harder to pass at.

[Vegna]

PseudoStraw/ Mare Maris

“My Leaf is faster than any cutter when the wind is right, she floats across the waves so lightly you will barely feel them. If you believe she cannot reach the maw, then you are sorely mistaken, miss. She will dance her way there up to the Mouth's Lip and no further, unless you have a death wish, which I am going to have to argue against. And if you will be able to stop this disturbing problem, and if you are willing to leave your blade as a deposit for services rendered, then I think we can arrange your journey by tomorrow.”

He taps his vessel reassuringly, before lying into his hammock. He gathers his bed cloth in his hands, but he doesn't yet relax for sleep, looking slightly concerned in the candle light.

“What is causing all this, do you have any idea? Such strange occurrences, it is very unsettling. Well, all the same, it won't matter until tomorrow anyway. You are both free to rest on my floor or deck, otherwise I will be happy to sail at dawn.”

The Marine speaks to before you have made your decision, he thanking his friend for the offer of work,

“My lady. We could search for more vessel if you fear for security on the sea, though Yelleh's ship is very agile and that may be a greater boon than numbers. I am also more than happy to guide you through the city if you wish to collect anything before our journey. I can procure some basic supplies, but anything else you wish to acquire will require another deduction from your gold.”


LordDeathkeeper/Roran

“Don't worry, not about to let anything out of my hands a second time tonight. But any help is appreciated. I'll get a move on then.”

He gathers the rest of his stall as quickly as he can, whilst you fly to reach a better angle of your home space. As you move to get a better view, you notice the shape of harpy wings jutting out from the offending party.

Her head was turned towards you as you rise, waving her human arm with another sickly sweet smile on her lips. It was the one from the fisherman's guild, tearing apart your tent and belongings. A sudden swoop of wind passes as you are reminded of the second circling harpy, as she dives for the kill straight towards the stall-keeper. Bull-dozing him out of her way, her fingers snatch the precious box he had just been holding on to, sending the man tumbling backwards as he screams in anger.

“Get the bloody box!”

The thieving harpy starts to soar again into the air, picking up impressive speed. Her accomplice appears to have finished her efforts to distract you, now grabbing the sheet of your tent. Raising it in her hands, her wings start to flap as she surges towards you, throwing the tent sheet in an attempt to impede your own movement as a make-shift net.

"Toodles, leather-face.”


Vael/Fabrar Wayland

As the empty bowl rattles on the table into stillness, the crew all smirk at your display. Ulmer and some of the other crew start a game of dice in the centre of the table, throwing in coins in a small pile that moves between them. Harry just continues to look irritated, taking one of Ulmer's drinks and quickly quaffing its contents in front of its former owner. They all point to a very embaressed looking Jed makes his way down the stairs, your table roaring with mock applause as the man returns to his table, realising the size of your group is not worth any chance of petty revenge. Pete leans across the table to call over to you, in between his own mouthfuls of food and ale.

“You said it was way-land, your name right? Do you have any friends in the city, cause when I was over there I heard this fella was asking about if Rosie knew any Waylands? She said she didn't, but the guy's still over there for a drink right now. Don't worry, I didn't say anything, you see that one on the right, with the fancy knife?”

Following Pete's finger, you spot the man dressed in a blacksmith apron, his bushy beard coated in soot. He appears much like your own family after a long day's work, the only jarring aspect being the black steel hilt of his dagger, jutting from his hip. Your own smithing skills tell you that being able to stain a blade without ruining it with imperfection is no routine task, but rather modest compared to the patterns your own parents could produce. He's certainly not familiar to you though, perhaps a family friend.

“Want us to get him to shove off, Puke-Smith? He's just a land-lubber, they got no fight in them.”

The soot-bearded smith looks around the room absent mindedly, his eyes suddenly picking out Pete's finger directed at him. He looks eyes with Pete for a moment before returning to his drink, starting to take a long, deep sip, intent on finishing his drink fairly quickly.


Kaynebot /Thagrosh

The echo is almost faded into apathy from your execution of the useless one, there is no glory in that moment. No challenge, only cleaning out the trash. The doorman stirs as you drag him over to relatively clean wall, his eyes opening to wide terror as impotently tries to escape from your solid grip. His fear only grows as he looks around the room, surveying your devastation and lack of injury.

“I saw guards, okay. Lords' Court Guards. Oh please don't fukin' kill. Sweet wastes I don't wanna' die. They just yelled at the house for Flynn, telling him to come out or they'd drag him out. Kicked down the door and when he wasn't there, they just tossed their torches onto his roof and left. Please don't fukin' kill me, I won't say a word. I just don't wanna die. They- they said that they had him for crimes of treason against the Merch' Lord Damont, but you don't burn a guy's house for treason unless its filled with treasonous junk. Flynn was a piece of muck, a thief and a cheat, but he had rat balls. He couldn't commit treason and risk that sort of trouble for a isle o' gold. Please, I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die!”

He is broken. His babbling reduces to just barely understandable pleas for his life, but whatever he had said was definitely of some value. This Merchant Lord Damont appears to have sent these guards to capture Flynn for treason, a clear answer to give Marius and to retrieve your own, long desired information. This act has no substance, the echo indicates the incomplete nature of the information, not enforcing you to investigating further but rather highlighting the gaps in the reason of why this Flynn would attempt treason. Regardless, Marius could undoubtedly figure out the rest of the whys and hows in his own time, you aren't his private investigator and the weakening echo only proves further that you should become reunited with your transformative gem as soon as possible. What if your own strength has even been starting to wane, or your skin become soft and pink again. The choice is always yours though, the echo has been a guide, but unlike the gem, it is no true master of your will.


Raunchel/Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

Ophelia gasps in surprise at your offer, stumbling over her words before she can find her tongue. Her voice is unsteady as she kneels to your hand, holding it gently but close to her head.

“My lady, I-I do not know what to say. I had always thought you would offer your gift to Jessili, I am just a servant. She is the one closest to you, not I. But- but I have honestly hoped, to live in eternal youth alongside so that I would no longer become useless to you when my skin becomes wrinkled and my bones fragile. I would gladly accept your offer, if you truly mean it, there is nothing else I would want.”

Her voice breaks as the prospect of immortality washes over her for a moment. After a few seconds, she collects herself and rises again, dusting off her dress and straightening it out.

“I am sorry, I should maintain myself better if I am to remain your servant.”

She lets a nervous chuckle, before curtsying to your hand.

“I will fetch Lucinda and retire to my quarters. Thank you again, my lady, thank you.”

Lucinda is best thought of as the most practical of your inner circle. She is by no means rude or forgetful of the proper etiquette, but the first to dispatch them if required. An avid fan of horse-riding and plain clothes, her rapid jog can be heard as she makes her way through the building towards you, slowing down to a crawl just before she turns to corner to meet you. Her ankles snap together in attention, with her voice clear,

“How may I assist you tonight, my lady? I hope I was not too slow in responding to your summons.”


GuyFawkes/Levi T. Pendegraph

“Ninnys . . ”

The girls break character for a moment from such an unexpected statement from Hanya, before returning to admire his latest tattoo.

“Perhaps, though I may be mistaken. The only Pendegraph I have ever met before this day was the adopted son of a very old friend of mine. He had always been a good man and he had hoped likewise for his son, I am sure. But this would have been over a decade ago, the boy was barely entering his teens and would surely not remember a woman such as myself. One so very older than he.”

Madam Paub's good eye raises in amusement, as the implication sets in. You could swear her a woman no older than thirty to a day, but if she was a old friend of Sir Zaffre . . well, the implications of her real age perhaps didn't bear thinking about.

“You have grown well, from that small child Karl rescued from the sea. Though, I am surprised that you chose the mercantile business to grow into, but it appears to have fit well. May I take a guess at a store of adamantite was to thank for your starting fortune, something that Karl had never indicated about in his entire time with you, but just happened to grant you a sudden time? But I'm afraid I cannot catch up for long, after this bid, I have a meeting to attend to so if you have questions then choose them wisely in the time that you have.”

Its so strange to hear his name again, after so long and so many painful memories rising again because of it. She raises her hand to bid for the Leviathan blood, now in competition with Hanya's girls.

“Mr Pendegraph's old lady is bidding too. We shouldn't let her beat us!”

Cassandra chimes in to Hanya, raising her paddle again, the bid now at twenty four kilos of gold.


Xondoure/Zaneserri Darro

The Guard Sergeant's tired expression shifts into one of pleased understanding, though not the understanding you had hoped for. He grabs the coins as he dismisses most of the troupe to continue the search further down the pier. He orders one man to check the crow's nest, though the thought of Flynn being able to climb the rope ladder up there was laughable at best, embarrassing at worst. He looks up at Jorry with a slightly fearful expression, before looking back to you, only one other guard standing next the ship's boarding plank.

“Don't worry, Captain. We won't care about any funny cargo. Just give me the tour and I won't look twice at anything. It just a formality, its not about any taxing or security check ups. Three minutes tops, on my badge.”

As the crow's nest guard inevitably calls that there is nothing there, the two regular guards wait beside the pier in case of any trouble. The sergeant lifts up the Blue Gull's hatch without asking, but with some brief struggle.

“Okay, Captain. You lead and I'll follow.”

As the Guard's torch shines down into the ship's hull, you immediately hear the, perhaps too early, false groans of Blackfoot, as she step out and protests against the light.

“Heeey. Some of us are sleeping down here.”

The Sergeant, on the other hand, just seems surprised at what must have been the first time he had ever seen a kobold.

“Wastes beyond, what the Maw is that?!”

Her expression is visibly irritated by his comment, but being on her best behaviour, Blackfoot continues to play her part.

“A tired kobold. I thought we weren't getting up for hours, Captain. What's going on?”

[PseudoStraw]

Mare Maris

Placing her sword on the elf's table without a second thought, she headed back up onto the deck to look out over the sea. She listened silently to the Marine and shook her head "I do not need anything and this ship will be fine. I just wish to push on out and find the fiend that is causing the sea to die. Feel free to sleep on the ship I will be elsewhere. I will rejoin you in the morning." Her face was sullen from the idea of her sea falling apart as she dallied with the mortals but she graced the Marine with a hollow smile and walked down off of the boat and along the dock towards the beach again.

As she had been doing for ten years prior, she fell asleep on the beach, her feet in the cool night waters and her hands buried in the sand, still warm from the day's sun. Sleep did not come easily though as she kept her eyes on the black water and remembered the revolting wind that has passed her in the city. Bad omens, so many bad omens but what did it mean? Her mind was still so fuzzy and her body so ungainly she could not do all the things she wished she could. She couldn't even call on her fish to tell her what was happening in the sea as it seemed they would die before reaching her. Closing her eyes she tried to ignore the smells and the sounds of the city and forced herself to sleep.

Horrid nightmares plagued her sleep and left her tossing and turning on the beach. Unknowable forms and unintelligible sounds ran through her mind as she laid helpless and suffocating in an endless sea of night. She clawed at her throat and ripped at her tongue but her hands were weak and her legs would not move from the constricting coils of the sand she laid upon. Just as her vision went foggy, her last breath escaping her lips in a flurry of bubbles , she caught sight of a huge form, endless rows of teeth and a writhing, ever coiling body as it turned and rushed towards her, ready to devourer her whole.

Spluttering, she awoke, her mouth filled with water and her eyes sodden with sand. The sea has come in and her legs had been dragged under the soft sand as she had slept. Quickly she bushed the sand from her eyes and dug her fingers into the sand around her legs to unstick them. She stood and her knees buckled under her from the lack of oxygen and the cold of the sea. Blinking she turned and looked around, the sun was just rising over the horizon and a brisk wind was pushing the sea ever further onto the beach where she had once slept.

Slowly she moved up off of the beach and let herself be warmed by the sun. She had almost been killed by her own waters. There was a time when she would have breathed the water like the mortals breathed air but there she was, dragged in by the earth and suffocated by the sea only then to be chilled half to death by the wind. She was not accepted by any of the three powers and now they looked to kill her.

Brushing the drying sand from her leather boots she looked out again at the sea as it continued its slow movement up against the sand and rocks. She watched it batter and drag itself up and over the sharp rocks and knew that after a time the rock would be smooth and sleek, unable to cut or hurt anyone again. She looked at her slowly cracking leather and soft hands and sighed. She was not of the sea any more. She was more like a rock, battered and smoothed and soon to be completely useless to all.

Sliding her fingers over a smooth flat pebble she stood up again and with a small run up and a heavy throw she let loose the rock at the sea, watching it skim over the waves and smash straight through the water with a mighty crescendo of droplets. Watching the ripples as they spread out from the point of impact she tilted her head and marvelled at how the new waves intercepted and changed the waves that were already in progress towards the shore.

She smiled and looked down at the rest of the smooth pebbles. So, she was not of the sea? Sure. But would she be useless? No. No, she could see now, the sea shaped these but when the rock was used right it could change the very waves and make them move to their will. If she was a pebble then she would make the biggest splash, she would part the sea and stand in the centre of the Maw, she would scream her desires and the sea would bend to her will.

With her renewed vigour she walked back up onto the docks and walked towards the Autumn's Leaf, her eyes flashing with the knowledge that she would soon be back to her former glory and the waters would be hers again.

[Vael]

He twirled a lock of hair in his eye with his finger. A family friend or no, there was one thing certain.

“I never sent word of my arrival to anyone.”

Harry looked a bit concerned at that. Still, Fabrar couldn’t tell for certain whether this was a friend or foe. There were eyes all over the city, and he definitely played into the part of tourist. There were people who wanted him safe as equally as dead. Of course, he had never met anyone who’d give him harm, but with his parents gone he couldn’t be too certain. He was in foreign waters and foreign lands

“I think I’ll spare Rosie another fight. Seems like the man is just asking for word of a Wayland, and I have plenty of words to give, Jed can tell you that. Whether or not I go easy on him depends on if he’s a friend, but feel free to show him some seaside hospitality if he makes a move.”

Fabrar slid his seat backwards with a squeak along the floor and thanked them for the stew before approaching the man. . All Fabrar knew was that he wanted an encounter here if any place at all. A home advantage of sorts with a few dozen heavy-armed sailors is always preferable.

“Greetings, I hope you don’t mind, but I was just admiring your hilt there. It takes patience and no small degree of skill to stain a blade with precision, even for a dagger. That’s definitely fine handicraft.”

He eyed his dagger curiously, as if some rash prig were about to steal it. In doing so, a small stream of beer dripped onto his apron. So he took the compliment well, Fabrar thought.

“My pa always used to say that blacksmithing was in our blood. Well, I don’t know if an anvil could be flowing through our veins, but I wouldn’t be surprised if some dragon blood was there, that attraction to forge and fire. Well, I got gypped of that if my scars can attest to anything. More like elf’s blood, so I can make merry with stories and merchants. Still, my parents taught me how to fashion a crude sword...”

Fabrar unsheathed an inch of the steel from his scabbard to impress him.

“...if this can attest to anything. Perhaps you’ve even heard of them? Wayland? Well, I know you’ve heard of them, since you’ve been asking around. But I’m most curious what that name is to you.”

[Raunchel]

Serdynage Hastur-Vartul
I am happy that Ophelia wants to accept my gift, or curse. Sometimes I wish that it had never happened, but then I start to feel melodramatic again. Who am I to complain? Yes, there are some limitations, and they are annoying, but the advantages are greater, I am more than happy to not have to worry about so many common causes of death.

“Ah, Lucinda, you’re not late at all, in fact, I am pleased by how fast you came, Ophelia needed a rest because of these guests. Please give instructions to have a warm bath drawn for me, I feel cold.”, Lucinda rushes away again, her footsteps are blunt, but I know that I can trust her, and her abilities have come in useful on several occasions already, the girl knows how to handle an axe.

A little later she returns, informing me that the servants are working on it. She takes my hand and leads me there. I know the way but I still like being led, there have been several incidents with small objects on the ground, and this usually is faster. When I arrive everything is done, I like this efficiency in my household. The servants already left, they all know that I prefer to be left alone. Lucinda helps me out of the dress, I know that it is shameful, but I can’t do such things myself. Of course I have the strength to rip it to pieces, but that is what I actually want to avoid. I am gently placed into the bath, and I feel the warmth spreading into me through my skin. I love hot baths, they are among the few things that help against the constant coldness.

“Lucinda, dear, could you please bring the correspondence, there remained some letters that I still have to answer.”

[Deathkeeper]

Rory

First off: Called It.
Second off: Is this pigeon kidding me? I mean, is she completely frakking kidding me? A sheet? There's eight different ways I could evade that, and most of them wouldn't even slow me down.
The second I see her smiling I'm already leaping in the opposite direction, because Ancestors, how stupid do they think I am? I'm only twenty feet from the guy. It doesn't matter if you have burst speed that's better, I'm a) the fastest dragon alive (and that's my slogan!) and b) built for long distance endurance flying. She's not getting away if she was strapped to a Gnomish rocket. So I'm in hot pursuit (that's a pun, you'll get it later) for a second or two before Miss I Don't Know When to Shut Up tries her masterful plan to get me. And I decide to humor her and not just, you know, fly straight and avoid the sheet which can't fly horizontally at 20 mph or faster. I slow down for a moment to let her advance with her horribly menacing sheet before giving her a kind reminder that I am a dragon. A not rich one at that, so I can't really afford nice things like fireproof tents.
One deep breath later, one crumbling sheet and a Harpy drop to the ground, both on fire. She's just barely smart enough to put it out, I'm sure, but those singed feathers aren't going to fly any time soon. And if they do, well, there's a disgruntled old man with a thick wooden leg of a merchant stand who would like a word with her before she departs. I'll let them have their private time.
I have to drop and kick off the ground to pick up my speed again, but the other harpy isn't quite far enough to be in the clear yet. I don't pursue directly, though. I fly down through an alley to the side. These are my streets, and no one knows how to fly through them better than me. The city drowns out her sister's cry as she fell, or maybe she just assumed that was her throwing stuff at me and was staying back to keep me occupied.
So out I pop, having been flying at top speed down another street with a few less things to get in a flyer's way. I wouldn't be able to completely catch up, not completely, at least. So, I went for the strategy of being a bit of a jerk.
"You know, you might as well stop now. If you get away I'll just punch your address out of your little accomplice. Unless you're cruel enough to just leave her to get thrown in prison and skip town for one Job's pay. Possibly with her wings broken; I haven't a clue what the old man is doing with me gone. He seemed pretty pissed when we left."

[Kaynebot]

Thagrosh listened to the man's blubbering. It was sad to reduce someone to this state, but it was necessary. And he should have a stronger will Thagrosh stalked off leaving the man sitting there. He figured the man was to traumatized to be a threat honestly.

Thagrosh went off to walk back to Marius. He didn't bother to clean off the blood spattered on him and Rapture. He figured it'd make a more dramatic entrance. The blood was starting to dry by the time he made it back but when he got there he barged through the door.

"I got Marius' damn answer" He says gruffly to the doorman/wizard dude. "I'm going back now." Thagrosh begins stomping back towards the doorway before he stops. "Oh yea sorry" He says with a smirk on his face before doing the same thing he did the first time he was there. He pulled his bloodied Rapture out and smashed the blade into the floorboards. Being careful not to put Rapture in the same mark but to make some new smashed boards. Then he spins around and begins to walk towards Marius' office.

[Inspectre]

As Elias hurried the man along towards the alleyway he had suggested, it occurred to him that this might be a trap. Certainly, the man could have a flock of his own, if nothing else, who would be coming even now to his defense. But as they drew near to the alleyway, and nothing happened, reason began to push the paranoia out of his mind.

While the man recognized him as a member of their order, that did not mean that he was aware of Elias's status as a traitor. Likewise, if that were true he likely didn't know anything current, and had simply shouted those things because he hadn't heard of the escape yet.

As the adrenaline of that surge of fear melted away, Elias felt a sliver of disgust tighten his stomach. He would have tortured the man if he had to, and then once he had those answers he would have killed the man and left his body for the feral cats to find. But that was not how the newly reborn Elias was supposed to act - life may have been cheap in the Order, but that didn't mean he had to continue to be a murderer anymore. She wouldn't want him to remain that, especially after the trouble he went through to rescue her. And so a new plan started to form in Elias's mind.

"Alright old man. My apologies for that unpleasantness just now - I had to make it look good for the guards and the other onlookers. Perhaps I've been out upon the sea for too long, but I seem to recall that members of our Order are supposed to be more circumspect than that display. It's . . . um, not yet our time to step forth from the shadows, and all that! Now . . . have you heard anything else about Vanessa Damont other than that she has been chosen to serve our God in the Hereafter? Because I had heard a rumor that we had been foiled! Some lunatic hero had somehow managed to sneak into our sanctuary and spirit her away! I came here to investigate those rumors - the hero would want to reunite her with her parents to acquire a reward, no? So I was asking around to see if there was any truth to such news. Have you heard of any such thing?"

[GuyFawkes]

Levi T. Pendegraph

Levi's smile disappeared for a fraction of a second upon hearing that name, but soon returned. There were a few who knew of that name left, clearly she was one of them. But the startling fact was that she knew all those details, him being found at sea, and especially the mine. How could she know that?!

What was her connection to his late adopted father? Friend? Foe? If she was an enemy, she'd have had him nabbed or attacked the moment she saw him. Or her inaction could mean her confidence that she would get him any time she wanted. Either way, he knew he had to exercise caution in dealing with her.

"Ha ha ha! I am embarrassed. To have someone know me and yet my feeble mind fails me, I am sorry I really cannot remember who you are. And to think you're my type. But enough about that. I am more interested in the present. Tell me more about this meeting you are attending. Can I come along?"

[Vegna]

PseudoStraw/ Mare Maris

Harold offers his hand, as you step aboard the Autumn's Leaf, the morning sky thankfully clear of any dark clouds or foreboding red. The elf has now changed from his night-clothes into the more befitting working clothes of a sailor, a washed green-brown outfit with your golden blade at his hip. He doesn't greet you at first, as he is busy unfurling the main sail, though the Marine appears almost cheerful at the morning's prospect.

“Your purpose shall grant us favourable winds. By the book of Gareth, we shall not be found wanting, I am sure of it. I hope you rested well, my lady. Yelleh has provided some food rations, enough for a breakfast and more, should fishing be unsuccessful. They are in his quarters, should you desire anything.”

The thick cloth of the Leaf's sail opens into a collection of sickeningly woodland shades, its pattern blending a mixture of dull greens and faded oranges that it looks almost like its has been made from dead leaves. Returning to the wheel of the ship, he calls to you both with a smile,

“All finished up then? Very well, our heading is the Lipless Mouth. You should hold onto something if you are unaccustomed to elvish vessels, Miss Maris. Some people find gliding quite disconcerting.”

Spinning the wheel away from port, the ship turns smoothly towards the vast ocean. Your vague sense of the water's below start to feel the inscrutable, but increasing distance. Then the fact is confirmed as a gust catches the sails, tugging the Leaf into the air, though only a few feet from the water's surface. The boat falls and rises with each bluster of wind, the direction somehow controlled by the elf's wheel, despite the lack of use for a rudder.

By the time Bardocas has disappeared on the horizon, it is already midday. The only other sight now an approaching hulking merchant vessel, its sails colourful and patterned. The crew wave down to your small boat, as you find yourself walking towards the edge of the deck to face them. The face of your attacker, the one who stripped you of your power, it comes to your thoughts unheeded for a moment. And then you stop yourself as you realise were nearly ready climb overboard towards the ship, the vision fading from your mind. From here though, you can see something beneath the two sea-craft.

A enormous black shape, its form growing and shifting. Huge fins flap alongside its main body, as its four, glowing reptilian eyes lock with yours for a moment, before bursting from beneath the water's edge. Red skin, covered in an underdeveloped carapace of hard shell across its vaguely serpentine body. You are staring into the uncanny reflection of yourself, tainted with some foreign red across its form, no more than a decade old at most by your reckoning.

“SEA SERPENT!”

You hear both the elf and the merchant's call wrongly, as the beast's mouth takes a first bite of the unfortunate crew. The Leaf is pushed back, skimming along the sea from the wave that follows the ''sea serpent's'' surfacing. Harold has already drawn his trident, but Yelleh just shouts out him,

“If you jump, I'm leaving ya. We aren't going near that thing.”

“The merchants are in trouble.”

“Forget them, it hasn't seen us yet, so we move now!”

LordDeathkeeper/Roran

She turns her head back towards your calls, whilst the harpy doesn't slow down, you seem to have caught her attention. She smirks and waves the box in the air, showing off her prize.

“K'Sarka could crush that worm's arm with a flick of her wrist, either you must be lying or stupid to trust in one so feeble. And prison? Ha, what law is only for those that have the strength to take what they want. The strength of oneself can bring you far, especially in the skies.”

She stops and turns to face you, waving the container in her hand again. Then, in mock absent-mindedness, she lets it fall from her fingers, sending it rattling to the floor. Before it is less than a metre from the stone roof below, another winged pest emerges from the street, catching it within her grasp. The third harpy flies on in the same direction as your chase had been following, now flying within the Bardocas streets to escape you. A fourth and a fifth emerge from the streets also, making a bee-line for you.

“But strength in numbers is the only way you can survive in the big city. Just back off, little whelp. We wouldn't want anything to happen to you, that wasn't your fault. Its not even your box, let it go. We won't come back to thank for injuring our sister, you can just enjoying your little message running for the flightless.”

The three harpies are all armed with small daggers, the pair approaching having both drawn theirs, whilst the one you had been chasing has yet to arm herself, trying to make some diplomatic effort. From this high point, you can still make out the harpy with the box, and a dive would allow you to find the speed to catch up on her, but there would still remain three harpies on your tail to make things more difficult. The lead harpy gave you a smile,

“Are you going to see sense then?”

Vael/Fabrar Wayland

The blacksmith's hand reaches for his own dagger, as you slightly draw your blade, but he simply tenses his grip rather than cause a display. As say your name, his expression becomes briefly unsure, before looking back to your 'crew'. He relaxes slowly again, taking a last swig of his drink, before wiping his lips and his beard a little cleaner.

“Heard you were younger, shorter too. Well, a Wayland's a Wayland and you've got a decent blade for your age. I've got to talk to you, about your folks. We were kind of partners, on and off, maybe they told you about old Iron Hans, probably not though. Never burnt my hands working, not in twenty years. They left me a message last time they came through her, in case any of their kids went this way, if things went wrong with them. I'm guessing you're here because it did? But I'd rather talk elsewhere, the message is not for strangers' ears, if you get my drift.”

His eyes look back to the crew, who are waving over at you both, broad smiles across their mouths like a pack of friendly, and slightly inebriated sharks as they watch your conspirator. Hans scowls at them, and at you, his tone gruff and harsh.

“If you want to talk, we can head to your room or outside. I don't care, I'm just not talking where others can hear. Otherwise, I'm out of here after this next drink. Take it or leave it, kid. Another one, Inn Keeper!”

Rosie pours the blacksmith another large mug, unhappy with his attitude but settling with his coin. As he drinks, you notice the lack of tell-tale burn scars across Hans' hands as he claimed, though they aren't for lacking a collection of criss-crossed cut scars, one or two even still looking a little red. He wipes his lips and beard again, cleaning another patch of his soot.

“So, what's it gonna be, Wayland?”

Kaynebot /Thagrosh

As the clerk takes your name down, the room watches in repetitive surprise at your entrance, some familiar faces just getting up to leave again. As you march towards the office door, its ogre guardian gives a crooked toothed grin at your ****-sure attitude. He swings the heavy mast around his body, with as little effort as you would swing a stick, one end passing inches from your face as your instincts tell you to stop moving. The mast's end smashes against the wooden flooring, sending splinters towards the left wall.

“You wait. Not turn. Stupid.”

He may be a part of a particularly unintelligent race, following his orders to the letter, but his eyes are filled with a familiar desire to fight. To crush the strongest around to assert himself, and you are that lucky warrior in his sights. But for now, he pulls back his weapon, apparently fine with just a warning swing, as he lumbers it back in front of the doorway. A pair of lights fire into the room, from the clerk's smoking finger tips and immediately Marius pokes his head out of the curtain. He looks irritated for a moment, as he looks at Kru'Bask, then you and the small crater in his flooring. Turning to his waiting audience, he flips to an excitable grin,

“Don't worry, everybody. My loyal ogre is purely here to ensure that you all are sent to in 'the correct order'. We appreciate your busy schedules, but I assure you all that your payment will be undoubtedly worth what you wish to know. Just wait your turn and I'll be happy to talk to you all. Everyone.”

He looks to you with the last word, before returning to his office. Kru'Bask smiles at you, as one customer exits and another enters, almost daring you to make another move. It probably wouldn't be more than another half hour until you would be seen, unless you wanted to threaten the crowd again. Then, you could simply relay your price information to Marius and finally learn where your gem was. The echo however felt the same as Kru'Bask, We are strongest.

Raunchel/Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

“Of course, my Lady. I have three, no wait, four letters of note. The first is from the Lord's Court.”

You hear the clean slice of the letter opener, before Lucinda clears her voice. The Lord's Court, the highest law in Bardocas and the surrounding waters. Although any Lord and even their close family members could make their voice heard, only the most powerful and wealthy Lords had true influence with its walls. A forum where most major decisions and the elections of new Lord houses were held, a place where the important made important choices. Unfortunately, the inability to join many of the meetings and the politics had resulted in a slow decline of your Lordly influence, but your houses are both old and rich and you aren't going anywhere. A vote by post was still a vote they counted all the same.

“A summary of the wheat taxation, due to the warfare in the Hirsutus region putting a strain on their food production and transportation. Fortunately, your Ladyship’s significant stores will not affect your house servants for the time being. And of course bread isn't really on your menu any more. Hah hah. Erm, anyway. The next item is another offer from the Tri-Thorn House, the obviously profitable marriage of you and their second son, Ulmer. I think I saw him drinking with the Selemchant's younger son, perhaps they have some sort of secret club for unlucky heirs. Well, I think we never have enough kindling, am I correct my lady?”

As she opens the next letter, the windows start to rattle. The wind rustling against the glass, but Lucinda simply raises her voice over the noise.

“Third, a collection of this week's profit margin from the marble endeavour. The gold kilos have been counted and there is no sign of falsification or reduced payment. The total profit is summarized at eight-”

The window buckles, swinging open and allowing the blast of chill air through the room. Lucinda curses, her heavy steps marching to slam the wind back outside. Turning back to you, she is audibly irritated, but endeavours to continue from where she started.

“Eighteen kilos of gold per unit, a twenty five percent profit overall. And lastly, a late one delivered just a few minutes ago, a lucky catch, if I'm not cor- . . . Its a . . . a letter about Livillia. My lady, wasn't she, the one who . . changed you?”

"You took Livillia.

You took the first one I raised from mortality.

And now, I'm going to take the same from you.

She will sleep her last tonight and never taste the gift.

Signed, A Mourning Father."

"My lady, what does this mean? You haven't changed any of us."

GuyFawkes/Levi T. Pendegraph

“It was many years and I only saw you once, so you are forgiven. But I am quite surprised to see this route you took, after Karl's death, though perhaps I shouldn't be. When tragedy strikes, some seek to change the world around them, or simply change their own world. I'm sure he would only wish that you were happy in what you do, are you?”

“But onto your question. A simple question, if perhaps a little wasted. A Lord of the city requires my expert opinion over his recent acquisition of gold. A typical job that they hire my services for, with such large sums they do not wish to be short changed. As for joining me, I don't believe that will be likely. I work alone and unless you are also a reputable expert in gold purity, they will probably dislike having a random individual involved in their wealth. The time to meet him is drawing closer, so I must bring this auction to a close now. Fifty kilos.”

She calls out again to the auctioneer, jumping the bid ahead by more than double. She nodded over to your waving crew who are now unsure of their bidding. The girls are happy enough to throw fifty five kilos after the blood, but such a large sum requires the captain's approval. A slight dent in your wealth if you decided to continue, but easily reminded with a particularly successful endeavour.

“Do you wish to concede? Or bid for a little more of my time?”

Inspectre/Elias Tarrant

He simply laughs tiredly at your apologies, he's expression weary, but angry. He points to your collar and your wrists, as he mutters at you.

“I see that the Maw's followers are as dim as the shadows they skulk in. You fools, believing that you can appease a god. The Hungry God is methodical and patient, and your stolen offerings could no more stop his path than this entire island. I did not etch impurity into more flesh, such as you bear under your clothes, to become like his children. You dare to try and become like that of a god? You are all heretics to your own faith.”

His anger leaves him unsteady, a wave of weakness washing over him as he falls to his knees. Though he is a follower of the Hungry God, this man is clearly not of the same faith as you and your cult. You had heard of such heretical splinter faiths of the Hungry God, that they littered the Archipelago like a swarm of sin. The knowledge that the Maw of The Abyss was the one true faith had been such a simple obvious fact for so long, its certainly unusual to meet someone who thought otherwise. Still angry at you, the preacher spits at your feet.

“And so, you took her. You enacted our god's justice with your own hands. Who are you to decide the Hungry God's desire for yourselves? That child, AGH, I was a fool to believe assume that he would take her. It was the work of heretics!”

This man is either mad, extremely pious or both, he's now angry at you for kidnapping Vanessa, of all things. He adjusts himself onto his knees, his arms relaxed and his look indignant to you. The preacher chuckles darkly again, as if expecting you to cut him down.

“The Lord and Lady Damont offered enough gold to make any commoner very comfortable. But don't think you'll find her if she or her hero returns, there are at least a dozen pretenders who have visited attempts to claim the prize. The Lord's brother, Sir Robert, is leading the search and will capture any such liars and murderers. Go, go look for him, maybe he'll put his spear through your black heart.”

[Raunchel]

Serdynage Hastur-Vartul
I am shocked, Livilla never told me about how she was turned, I had never given that part of the affair much thought. But this shocks me. I rise quickly, the water splashes from the bath and I immediately feel the wind draining the little warmth from my body. But I don’t shiver, that doesn’t happen anymore.

“Bring Ophelia here, as fast as your legs can carry you!”, I know that it is hopeless, but I won’t let one of my girls die like that. They are amongst the few that I care about. I hear Lucinda’s feet, they’re not delicate, but they are fast. I am actually afraid, not only for Ophelia, but also for Lucinda, what if she becomes a second victim? I cannot allow that to happen. But what can be done?

I have to hurry as well, I step from the bath and run towards where I think the door is. Luckily my rooms and those of my girls are close together, and as few servants as possible are there during the night. I step through it, remembering to not stumble over the doorsill. This simply cannot be allowed to happen. I am fast, far faster than I was when alive, but this is the first time that I truly run as fast as possible, even if the chance is small, I will save Ophelia, and otherwise I will hunt down this monster, and he will be destroyed. No one hurts what is mine. I come closer to Lucinda, it goes quickly and more easily than I had imagined. But then something happens, I crash into my grandmother. Not her actual self of course, but her statue. I can hear and feel it break, I fall as well, but don’t feel any pain while the marble shatters over the floor. I hear Lucinda stop, and say: “Continue!”

I get up again, feeling for the wall to know where I should go. The two sides of the hallway have a different decorations, something I commissioned so I would easily know my orientation. Now it is truly helpful and within moments I’m running again. Lucinda slows down, she must have reached Ophelia’s door. All of them have their own apartments, and a few personal servants. I like them to have some luxury. I haven’t actually ever been there, it would be unbecoming to disturb their privacy. Lucinda is already knocking on the door when I reach her. I don’t slow down in time and hit the wall, it is hard, and remains standing. I then hit the door, breaking it into pieces: “Ophelia, come!”

[Kaynebot]

Thagrohs

Thagrosh slowly shook his head. "Now you guys should know I'm not that patient." He starts to crack his knuckles thinking about the fight with Kru'Bask. Seeing the raw desire to beat the crap out of him, something made Thagrosh want to fight him, very bad. He sighed. "Ok I have an important meeting with Marius, very important. When the next person comes out I'm going in. All there is to it. The sooner I go in the sooner I leave." Thagrosh stated it flat out, no emotion. All he could think about was the recent slaughter he had done. It felt so nice to feel the Voice, and he knows he could do it again, right here right now. Its like a drug! Unhealthy for you! A small voice at the back of his head yelled. Thagrosh shook his head harshly, trying to dislodge it. NO! It is an extension of who I am. We are one, and we will be reunited! He yells back at himself. Anyone looking at this would see a deranged bloody, and out of control version of Thagrosh that was in here just a little bit ago.

In the standing space there was Thagrosh started pacing, he wasn't a patient man....or thing, or whatever you wanted to call him. If that person didn't come out soon Thagrosh was most definitely going to fight Kru'Bask and after kicking out of the joint he was going to march back down that hall and demand the answers he deserves.

[Deathkeeper]

Rory

I admit, I smiled. I grinned wide, exposing my many pointy teeth. They'd done exactly what I wanted. Maybe not backup, but close.
"Sense? I saw sense a long time ago. I just really hate your attitude."
And then I dived, dived, dived! I'll never know if she ever saw it comin', because that part of the chase didn't last long. I had gravity on my side, with my wings tight against my body, and I dropped like a stone. I opened my wings at the right moment and shot forward, giving me much more momentum than the thieving pigeon, and I manage to grab hold of her leg and wrench it back, grabbing the box while sending her flying into a building. She wouldn't be getting up for a while. Which left me with three more. You know, normally facing three armed opponents would be tough...if their arms weren't the one thing I'm basically immune to.
The first pair came at me just as expected as I shoved the troublesome box into my satchel. Came right at me, going to both gang up and stab me in the chest and neck. And oh, they did. Too bad they expected me to work like a human. Sadly, I don't and my torso is too hard for a knife to go through my ribs. Oh sure, it stung, and I'd have to wipe a tiny bit of blood off of the scale or two they loosened, but as they were lunging it put me in the perfect position to grab them both by the head and crack 'em together. I hope I didn't do it too hard. They seemed to be breathing, so I guess I didn't. Still, out like lights. Had I not done so they would have definitely gone through with that speed.
The last looked at me with hate, a blade in her hand.
"You'd best learn to stop throwing insults at people who can wring your neck, madam." I say with a sneer.

[Vegna]

LordDeathkeeper/Roran

As you make for the dive, the harpy and her companions dive alongside you, their formation tailing your left side as they raise their knives. They tail you, as the air shoots by you, riding your lead to keep their own speed with yours. At the moment you open your wings to push yourself, one of them grabs the left wing, holding it straight as the other two make a slice through the membrane. Your flight now effectively crippled, the ground quickly approaches you as you crash into a late-night food stall. Though it does reduce some of the landing speed, you still slide another dozen metres through the streets. The impact rattles your body, pain exploding across your front and face as even a few scales are scrapped off. You can see hear the harpies jeering overhead, their voices fading as they continue on to their destination.

“Stay on the ground, worm.”

“There is only one race that owns the sky!”

You can feel the loose flaps of skin in your wing, blood seeping profusely from the cuts. It at least would need stitches to heal properly, and magic to be certain that it'd fix up properly. A small crowd has started to form around you, people curious at the sight of a crashed dragon, a few of them never having seen one so close before. The pigeons were gone by now, maybe on word of mouth or maybe that information broker your guildmaster had meetings with you could find out where they went, but tracking them on foot looks about as much luck as if someone tried to do the same to you.

Kaynebot /Thagrosh

For what feels like the longest two minutes of your life, you are made to wait before a sobbing woman exits the curtained room. The waiting hall is still, with no one rising to walk in before you, how very considerate of them. Kru'Bask shrugs disappointedly, letting you pass as he mutters,“Next time.”

Inside, Marius is bright eyed and almost expectant to see you, stuffing a readied scroll back into his pocket and switching to pick out a small scrap of paper. His gauntleted hand gestures to the other seat, as he grins with unstoppable energy. “Thagrosh, my boy, my man of the hour! I hope you didn't need to kill too many people in order to get the information, but judging by the state of you, I'll make an easy assessment there. You're making it work though, very earthly, as they say in the sticks. Very amoral, I hear that's the in-look in some of the eastern fringes, but you didn't hear that from me. And you didn't make Kru'Bask through you through your own spine, that's a bonus for both of us. Anyway, hows that little hunt I sent you been. Spare me no detail, its all important.”

(Assuming you tell him what you truthfully know) Your informant's smile widens with your payment now fulfilled. He rubs his hands together with a greedy look, “Ooh, that is a tasty little gift you brought me. Shame about it just being a who, but now I know that, I think I can figure out a why for myself. As for your little gift in return, a location and owner, accurate within a reasonable margin. Here's a written version, just so you don't need to commit it to memory. Item seventy four, resident of one Lord Ysara Kylona's Private Museum, a lady of exquisite taste and wealth, but don't they all. Its approximately two miles in land from here, but there have been repeated stories of a gem that was apparently cursed, pirates stabbing themselves to death, brother fighting brother. You know, pretty juju, so good luck and try to not stab yourself to death. Our transaction is complete and I have to say you've been more efficient than my usual data traders. Lets do business again sometime, but call ahead so a busy man like yourself doesn't need to wait in line.” Once again, he offers his gauntleted hand to shake, still optimistic despite your previous refusal.

Raunchel/Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

Lucinda repeats the name, seemingly surprised by your confirmation of an 'heir', “Ophelia? But, of course, my lady.” She drops the letters to the floor, stopping away with determination, trying to make to Ophelia's room as fast as she can. She bulldozes down a passing servant, knocking them to the floor in her haste as the scrapping sound of her side dagger echoes alongside her footfalls. By the time you have reached the door, you can hear her pounding to wake the owner of the locked door, an issue that you quickly remedy.

Ophelia lets out a brief cry of surprise as you break down her door, grabbing her bedding to cover herself against the splinters flying from your fist. “What is going on? M-my lady, you're out of your c-clothes.” She stutters at your lack of modesty, as Lucinda immediately moves to collect her from her bed. “W-what's happening?”

“You're in danger, another vampire is within the estate and her Ladyship suspects you would be his target. Move now, we can't stay here or else they might find you. Get out of the bed.”

“Oh by the mouth, what are we going to do? Ow, Lucinda, what are you doing?” You hear a thump and a sudden intake of breath, as Ophelia is dragged off of the bed and gasps. Lucinda is standing over her, now holding your favoured servant's hair back, as a faint cough exits Lucinda' throat, as if she was choking on something. A second voice, deep and male, emits from her throat, echoing her words in a sombre tone.

“Thank you for leading me here, Serdynage, who knows how much longer I would've needed to wear Lucinda. Her skin was beginning to wear a bit thin, as were your endless pampering requests.”

“Lucy, what are you-”

“Silence, worm. Or the blade will slip and your life will pour over this expensive carpet. Serdynage, you took from me my little girl, the only thing that made my existence bearable. We shared so many years, in life and death together, and now they're all just dust. Is that fair, oh very wise and far-seeing Lord of Greed's Island. IS THAT FAIR!?”

[GuyFawkes]

Levi T. Pendegraph

Levi smiled at the lady, but deep inside his head was racing. His father's name. She sure did know at least that about him. And that was a lot. Then the city's Lord asking for her services that involved gold. A lot of gold from how it sounds. And then the leviathan blood. That was perhaps the only thing he really wanted from the auction. And now this woman outbids him by quite a lot.

He looked back towards his party and waved his hand, signifying the end of their bid for the item, his face serious. He then looked back at Madame Paub and his face transformed back to the smile as fast as his head turn.

"Ah, no, no. I will not hold you any more. I am sure you can outbid anything I throw for that item. And delaying you might get me in the Lord's bad graces. I don't want to have that," he said with a wink. Then after a second or two, Levi stood up.

"Well then, it was nice knowing you...I mean meeting you again. I am sure we will see each other more often from now on. Good day," he bowed, then turned to walk towards his group.

"Sorry ladies, it was unsightly of me to give up on that item, but you see, that lady is an acquaintance, a family friend, and she requested that she have it. Of course, the generous me said yes. No worries, we got some anyway. I think that's enough. You can have whatever you want. But now I'm tired. Hanya, Kravitz, come. Ladies, it was nice to have your company," Levi held their hands and kissed them. "I will see you when I see you." With that, the trio rose up and moved to the exit without a word.

"So, what's up with that old lady, boss? Old fling or something?" Hanya began as they were outside. "Didn't think she was your type, too old and all, but hey, I just can't guess it when it comes to you."

"None of your business, kiddo. Anyway, you both know the drill. We move as soon as they begin to move the items. I only need the leviathan blood, leave the rest. I will pay for the sword, take back the gold as well."

"Yes sir. But before that, you might want to pay someone a visit."

"Who?"

"Here," Kravitz handed him the note.

"Let's see...hmmm..." Levi said as he spread open the note and read it, "Yeah, that **** again. Don't they always say that?"

"Yes. Not interested?"

"...yes. Yes I am. So where is this Galleon?"

"I believe it's that way, sir," Kravitz pointed.

"Then let's go that-a-way."

[Raunchel]

Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

I am surrounded by treason, who can I trust now? Were there signs that I missed, or was there no way to know? How long has Lucinda been like this? So many questions, and so very few answers. But there is no time for thoughts, not now. Only to act. I strike, many make the error of assuming that I do not know where they are, only because I lack sight. But I can find them, know where they stand and how. I hit hard, maybe not as hard as I possibly could, but still with enough force to break bones. I hit Lucinda’s wrists. I have to save them both, I need them, all of them. I think that I genuinely care about them, more than reason says I should. I could lose one and replace her, but two, two would be a complete disaster. The others could not bear the burden on their own.

“If there were any grievances it would have been better to simply bring it before me, so issues could be resolved in a civilized way. Do not presume to judge me, barbarian. I am Serdynage Hastur-Vartul, and no one assaults me or those who are mine. Retreat now, and never return. Vengeance is a barbaric thing, a waste of resources, but it you continue to attempt to hurt those around me, I will retaliate. And no one survives that. My actions are not dictated by base wrath, but by cold and unbending reason. Now leave me, or meet the same fate as the traitor Livilla. I never would have harmed her, but she threatened me, and I do not allow myself to be threatened.”

[Vegna]

Raunchel/Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

Lucinda's wrist bones crack under your strike, her echoed voice growling as the knife falls dulling onto the carpet. Ophelia gasps in pain and the scent of her blood swamps your sense of smell for a brief moment. She grabs your leg, comforted by your quick rescue as she slows the bleed with her hand. You could smell some blood, but not a fatal quantity for the moment. Retreating a few steps with its wrists limp, the echoing voice growls at your declaration.

“YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO SPEAK HER NAME! What is Serdynage Hastur-Vartul worth when she cannot stop those with real power from simply walking into her home. I have seen many mortal houses of the rich fall into dust, as will all the living around you that you lean upon. The 'honour of your politics and coin. If death is how you repay one who cured you of it, then this is what I think your honour.”

Lucinda spits at your feet before her stomping feet move closer, you can almost feel her uneven, harsh breath as the voice comes almost face-to-face. This being's tone is desperate, perhaps even suicidal. The loss in their anger is clear, despite the time that had since passed your removal Livilla.

“When you killed the one who saved you from mortality, you betrayed the greatest gift you were ever given. And as the spawn of my daughter, my reason tells me that you are my responsibility too, but as the last vestige of her existence I am unwilling to kill you either. So, blind Lord, listen to me. I will leave here and let your servants both live, but in return, your right to spread the gift is forfeit. You live out your ages, rule in the shadows of this forsaken island and swear that you will do so without creating another of our kind. If you do, I will return and I will not give you the chance to speak to me. I will kill your companion as your servant, as your guard, perhaps even with my own bare hands and let you mourn as I must. You will live paranoid and alone for as long as I am able, maybe even until the Mouth is full and the seas dry. Or you refuse and we begin this brief battle that you have in mind, and I will simply kill you as you and your spawn sleep. If you are willing to kill Lucinda to rip me out of her.”

What ever this vampire was controlling Lucinda, your attack had proved that it was no stronger or faster than your servant whilst puppeting her. A fight would be brief, but Lucinda would probably suffer for it unless you were quick to restrain her body and make sure that the vampire couldn't bite her tongue. Its offer to leave seems genuine, but whether the idea of an eternity of mortal servants was something you could live with is another matter.

GuyFawkes/Levi T. Pendegraph

The streets were blustery, as the trio stepped outside into smooth streets of the High Quarter. Compared to the busy, uneven roads of the lower classes of Bardocas, there is hardly a soul along the entire street besides the well-dressed watchmen patrolling the lamp-lit walkways. The view is clear towards the Lord's piers where the galleon resides, its deep-red frame lit by the burning torches atop its deck. As you approach the vessel, you notice the horse-drawn carriage waiting in-front of the gangplank, supposedly the property of your strange contact.

Aside from the dough-faced driver, who nods politely if you approach him but is otherwise silently gestures towards the galleon, there is no one else around who might be a witness to your meeting. Standing beside the main mast is a young man dressed in serving attire, a small tricorne hat held under his left arm to prevent the wind from blowing it away. A brown satchel rests at his hip, and he smiles shortly after you enter each others mutual view.

“I am glad you accepted the invitation, Mr Pendegraph. Your ability to hunt and acquire rare items, especially from less than savoury owners, has made you seem capable of this opportunity. Please,if you would follow me into the captain's quarters, away from any potential eavesdroppers. You may bring your bodyguards inside, unless you wish to leave them on guard outside.”

Within the white-painted cabin, most of the decorations and furniture had been long removed. Only the captain's desk and a pair of oak chairs on either side remained, a dribbling candle lighting the room. As he gestures to the other chair, the man lays his satchel between you both.

“The individual referred to as Eyeless Jack, I assume you're familiar with his work? My employer has something of an issue with the pirate's work, many of my employer's own family heirlooms having been raided during an attack. In retaliation, he has devoted time into discovering co-ordinates of this brigand's treasure trove.”

He withdraws an crisp map from his satchel, laying it down in front of Levi. It was the lay-out of an small string of islands, each no more than a mile wide, the smallest barely a hundred yards at its longest side. The drawings were fresh, but beside the geographical outline, there were no port indicators or signs of man-structures.

“This area was a former trading outpost about a decade ago, before Jack's efforts made the area unprofitable. My employer has managed to narrow down the potential treasure site to one of these seven islands. There are potential cave or undergrowth locations that are highlighted, but the specific home of the treasure is unknown. My employer wishes for Eyeless Jack's treasure to be removed, either acquired by another enterprising individual or simply dumped into the ocean, with certain former properties of my employer's to be set aside and returned to their lawful owner. He will grant you this map and the co-ordinates, under the provision that I accompany you to ensure his property is not accidentally disposed of. You are free to look over the map and ask me any queries you might have, but I would like you to decide an answer to give my employer after this.”

[Raunchel]

Serdynage Hastur-Vartul
“I loved her, more than any other before or after. But there was no other way. Three years we spent together, but she would take from me every way into the world. My needs are not those of most of the world. No one knows what it is like to be bound like I am. Not for me the easy way to simply go through the streets, not for me the safety of knowing what stands around you. You have no idea what it’s like. And yet you presume to judge me. She wanted to take everything from me. I care little for my wealth, but I do require my assistants. And one thing strikes me as strange, grandfather, she never once mentioned you. You might have loved her, maybe even more so than I did, but I fear that she never knew love. She only sought to use those around her, she never truly cared for their wellbeing. She never told me anything, only that I should avoid the sun and needed to drink the blood of the living.”

There is a truth in those words, my wealth is important to me, but should it go, it can be recovered. I have great power, but I am bound by these walls and the whims of others. I cannot simply leave like others can. I cannot put on a disguise and become someone else, going unnoticed. And I did love Livilla, I truly did, and what I did still hurts me. But I can never show regret, never a hint of weakness, it would be seized, there are many who would cast me low.

“But you must know that. Or maybe you were deceived like I was, blinded by love for her. Why did she leave your side, if not to further her own ends. I learned that, but by then it already was too late. She was taking everything from me. Do you know what it is like, bound by thick walls, your way to walk taken away? But maybe we should talk in person. We both suffered a terrible loss, I know that you blame me for it, but it is not how I meant things to go. My hand was forced to act against my love. I fear that I never truly knew her, your existence alone goes against what she said to me. She said that she had a mother, who had been slain by sea raiders. I must know the truth of it all.”

[PseudoStraw]

Mare Maris

Her mouth dropped at the distorted image of herself as it raised from the sea. The image of her attacker still fresh in her mind as the great body of the beast turned towards the merchant vessel.

"No..." She mouthed and her hands twitched in the desire to rip out this enemies throat, this imposter, this shell of her former glory. "NO!" She shouted, her sharp teeth glinting from the light of the beasts eyes, and her own turning bright with anger. "NO, NO, NO!" With a few steps back she went to launch herself at the fake just as the boat turned on a pin, flinging her to the side. The elf had taken the initiative and was speeding them off away from the red monster.

Mare pulled her gloves off with her teeth, letting her long yellow claws dig into the boat and she howled. It was a guttural sound, more like the bellow of a great fog horn as she called upon the creatures on the sea. But all it seemed to do was make the red leviathan turn slightly and look at her as if she was nothing more than a cub, a child playing at being as strong as it was. The seas did not churn with fish or great kraken, they did not boil with her rage and go to drown the fake. They did nothing. The imposter had more power than her and being this close to it had dulled her powers. It had make her nothing more than a pretender in her own skin.

She watched as her tinted body sped into the distance as the elves boat skimmed away. The thrash of the sea around it obscured her view and her shoulders slumped. She sat, her claws still imbedded in the wood of the boat but her eyes fading, no longer bright. Her body was gone, taken from her... For the second time in her life she felt useless, alone... Weak.

[Vegna]

PseudoStraw/ Mare Maris

The strange sensation of feeling like prey against a predator was unsettling to say the least. But as the elf made his successful escape, you could see that man again in your mind's eye. Just as when you had felt a strange desire to approach the merchant ship, now there was another faint, but still understandable vision piercing its way into your human brain. A island covered in wooden structures, the pull of the Mouth more prominent around it than where you were currently. You could not recognise it or plot any chart, but there was now a soft, certain pull towards it in your mind. Across the ripples of the ocean, you could almost feel that your mockery was moving that same way, a fact that was unclear to your land-dwelling companions.

“You fled, Yelleh. We could have saved those sailors and you fled!”

The marine had taken your roar as a druid's frustration and shared an anger with you, as he shouted at the elven pilot.

“If that serpent had not taken those sailors for its breakfast, then we would be the ones inside its gullet at this point, Harold. I am here to sail, not die.”

“Those were peoples lives back there, even if only one had escaped, we could’ve tried to save one.”

“It was us or them, old friend and I made the call. Unless you want to run after it and abandon the job we are actually going to be paid for, we will follow the lady's heading to the Mouth.”

“She was going to fight it too! We both wanted to stop it!”

“Well I am not being paid to kill myself. If you want to pick fights with sea serpents, you may as well just drown your self now and save it the meal!”

Their argument just kept growing louder and louder, no weapons drawn, but if it kept going they looked like they might resort to their fists. The Mouth was still a few days away at best, but the island felt closer, perhaps even reachable before the next dawn. Your red duplicate was going that way, regardless of your decision. And maybe, he would be there.

Raunchel/Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

“Talk in person? Ha. This shell may be slow enough for you to injury, but I am not so idiotic as to return your servant without you first swearing to me. And a terrible loss? You think that your regrets now make up for what you did? This is your choice and I do not care if you are sorry now, just as I do not care for why Livilla said nothing of me. I was not her keeper, I am her . . avenger.”

Despite the echo's obvious anger, a twinge of pain is now in Lucinda's tone as it lingers over how little Livilla mentioned of her vampiric father. You hear her stepping away towards the window, apparently contemplating the view as it rests Lucinda's chest against the sill. Ophelia whispers to you, as your aggressor seems momentarily distracted.

“Should I get help, my lady? If I bring enough guards, I'm sure a mage might extract the being from Lucinda.”

Apparently unaware of her plotting, the echo continues, almost speaking to the outside world beyond the glass panes.

“She always wanted to do things her way. There was the entire ocean and forever to see it, but there was no patience in her heart. Time becomes a strange thing to the undead, you can become stagnant in the past and at the same time, you no longer have the same doubts to avert your future. She wanted to live and those that were around either followed her wave or were crushed against it. I do not pretend that your vision isn't a crippling issue, I doubt you would survive a few days. But just as she threatened to take what was precious to you, you took the last thing that was precious to me. Without my daughter, I am adrift, purposeless. I never wanted gold or power or knowledge, just that I could be loved by my daughter and watch her enjoy the world. So now, you are my last remaining purpose in this world, the last remnant of her that I can return my anger upon. I tried to stand in the way of her life once and now she is gone. How cruel fate is sometimes, wouldn't you agree?”

The voice seems to grow almost distant, as it lingers to look outside, perhaps lost in thought or something catching its eye. Ophelia waits for your approval to gather guards, though Lucinda would unlikely be a severe threat in her state, her puppeteer would be if it had more tricks up it sleeve afterward the extraction.

[GuyFawkes]

Levi T. Pendegraph

Levi smiled as the gentleman finished talking, standing up from his seat and paced the room. After a few seconds of doing so, he abruptly turned towards the man with a grin.

"You know, I must tell you, I am surprised. Recently, there has been a lot of people who have approached me, saying they know me of this or that, when for the longest time, the only people who went after me were people of the law, or husbands of those loose women I slept with," he said with a chuckle.

"But enough about that. Back to the topic at hand. You know, I could bore you with a some~what lengthy lecture on how to do business," he continued with animated gestures, "like how you shouldn't show your business partners what you have before you get a little of theirs in exchange. Let's say showing us that map for example. Have you got it down, love?" he asked Kravitz, who looked to be scribbling down something on a piece of paper.

"Yes," she replied as she stored the paper inside one of her pockets.

"See, I don't have the coordinates, but if you must know, if you do, a person like me could verily obtain such measly details as the coordinates to these isles that a person of Eyeless Jack's fame regularly plies."

He shook his hands before him. "It would take time, but certainly in, what, a few months' time, I would be having Eyeless Jack's treasures all to myself. Including your boss' properties," Levi finished with a sly smile.

"But as such, I am a very generous man, and I will not do such a dastardly act. However, you have to convince me. I do not care much about the treasure per se. I could very much earn that in more ways than one, without having to draw the ire of one such as Eyeless Jack. I am more of a, how do you say this? Ah, yes, a collector. A connoisseur of artefacts and curious baubles. I only take what I want, and if I want something, I take it. Whether it be of Eyeless Jack's property, or your employer's," he said the last few words slowly and winked.

"So, can you tell me something in that treasure trove that might spark my interest?"

[Raunchel]

Serdynage Hastur-Vartul
He has a weakness then. Good, that can be used. I simply cannot give in, it isn’t in my nature to do so. Once Livilla tried to make me do that, and it is clear how that ended. But he is more powerful, far more so, and he is careful. He is a threat, and I have to get him to leave. And he is obsessed, so he has to be permanently removed. But how? He can strike from great distance, and there is far too little that I know about him. This is troubling, deeply troubling. At this moment I cannot yet send agents. Had I known more, I would simply hire a group of overly violent thugs to destroy him for me, followed by more such groups until one could show me the signs of success.

“You might have lost a daughter, but if you want to, you still have me. I know that she cannot be replaced, but at least let me fill a part of the hole left in your heart. Let me give you a new purpose, not one of anger, but a true path forwards. We both have something the other needs. I need someone like you, someone to tell me things, and you need a purpose. Together we can become truly great, we could take the whole mortal world. There is no need to make me suffer, if that is your only purpose you are too late, I haven’t know happiness since my hand was forced. But if it truly is your wish to restrict me, you will never know rest either. Should you come to me, I will welcome you, and provide every worldly thing you may have need of. I merely ask you this, as you and I are of the same blood, be my grandfather.”

I make a small sign with my fingers, Livilla knows that it means that she should wait. It is not yet the time for guards and other forces. I hope for one thing most of all now, knowledge. I must know more of this grandfather.

[Kaynebot]

Finally, It is here! Thagrosh thought as he walked down the hall. After listening to what Marius had to say. Thagrosh still refusing to shake his hand simply said "If this information isn't accurate....I'll be back." Tacking the last bit onto the end, Thagrosh grinned with malevolence. It wasn't meant to intimidate outright but make sure that Marius knew Thagrosh was completely serious and set on finding the gem.

Thagrosh walking back out, passing Kru'Bask said to him "If I come back, we can have some fun." and without stopping he grabs Rapture striding out the door and towards his goal. Walking the straight two miles Thagrosh has plenty of time to think but the only thing on his mind is his gem. He takes a moment to laugh at all those who were too weak for it. They don't deserve the power. Thats because its not right! Quiet! He growled out loud. It was then Thagrosh took a moment to think of how he must look. Still splattered with blood carrying a huge double-bladed staff that would need cleaned if it wasn't so different. Oh well. It's almost here. Was all he could concentrate on though.

[Vegna]

Kaynebot /Thagrosh

The city never really stops at any point, but there is a noticeable thinning of tightly packed wooden houses and animal droppings as you start to enter what may be described as the Lord's District. What was once claustrophobic, uneven streets opens up into broad, lantern-lit marble estates. The echo gently steers your body to move within the shadows, in an attempt to maintain some subterfuge from any who might interrupt your journey. Being blood covered might be standard fair beside the ports, but the Lord's paid people to keep the riff-raff out of their sight.

And then you meet the solid wall that marks the borders of Lord Kylona's estate, at least twelve feet tall and two foot thick of tightly packed brick, a effort for a climbing as the the surface had little option for hand-holds, but hardly impenetrable. Walking around to the front and only gate, you can make out at least a trio of bored guards, standing with swords sheathed and torches aloft. The estate is divided into two equally huge structures, one lit with servants and activity, the other completely devoid of occupants. The museum was owned by a Lord of Bardocas, the kinds of people who bought islands for their personal getaways. That kind of money would have more than a handful of guards and a wall to stop thieves, this was going to take time and brains. There was probably magical wards, a complex combination of invisible triggers that could only be bypassed with an exact motion of hands, verbal key-words, physical keys or any combination of the above. Without that, you would be sure to suffer any form of defence from spontaneous combustion to memory wiping or even living petrification, a favourite of the Gorgonite dwarves of old. Their ships-vaults guarded by every failed thief to forever watch fools repeat their actions and serve as a warning to the wise.

Something sounding like glass smashed, a purple sphere that encapsulated the entire museum flickered into vision before collapsing inward and disintegrating into nothing . Something had just bulldozed the warding shield, and alarms were beginning to whine in declaration of the intrusion. The guards immediately start running, as a mound of stones in front of the museum begin to rise. The stones start to take on a huge, humanoid shape, its figure smoothing out into defined proportions. It was at least seven feet tall, maybe now eight, pale white skin pressed across its muscled skin. A ridge of scales formed across its spine, before flicking the remaining dirt clean off of its cutlass. The demon was back. The demon wants the crystal. THE DEMON IS GOING TO TAKE YOUR CRYSTAL.

Raunchel/Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

Lucinda breathes sharply at your offer, pivoting back towards you, Ophelia quickly relaxing in an effort to seem inconspicuous though your 'grandfather' seems to have practically forgotten her presence. Now the voice is no longer angry at all, maybe hesitant even,

“You would want my company, even after my invasion of your home and servant? I have watched you for many months, Lord Hastur-Vartul, and you did not seem lonely. But I have made it clear that you are the last of my daughter and your offer, unusual as it is, is appealing. I do not want to harm your person, only enforce the price of my daughter's death as cruel as you may see me for it, or strangely not.”

He is silent for a moment, contemplating what your offer for what feel like the seconds turned to hours. As the wind whistles through Ophelia’s window, the voice focuses on you again, audibly torn between its logic and its heart,

“I want to accept your offer, as strange as it is to me. But for what odd familiar love I might have for you, it does not wash away the blood of Livilla. You have killed our kind before and I cannot trust you until I am certain that you will not attempt to repeat your action. My mind is . . . mixed over this affair. Raising my daughter ended so poorly, the chance to teach you our secrets, our gifts, our people's destiny, it is so very tempting. She taught you so very poorly in turn, I want to correct this mistake. Perhaps amends can be made between us, but I cannot read if there are lies in blind eyes. I have seen the love you hold for your servants though, even if there is none for me. I must have time to think this over, clear my head. I will return tomorrow night, and I have my decision then. But whatever your intention, the offer has touched me and I will return Lucinda to you as a way to make up for my atrocious first meeting.”

Lucinda and the echo both start coughing, as if choking from suffocation. Ophelia recoils slightly from the sight, holding your leg tighter until both voices finally stop. Lucinda falls to the floor limp, her mouth uttering a groan like the victim of an immense hang-over. The vampire mutters an apology in a voice as soft as mist, no other sound coming from his form, not even the creek of his feet on the floorboards. His presence fades from the room, the window rattling strangely until the three of you are finally rid of him. Lucinda elicits another complaint to herself, apparently unaware of you and Ophelia.

“Ugh, my wrists. Did you fall off the bed funny, you bloody, stupid mare?”

GuyFawkes/Levi T. Pendegraph

The gentleman's gentleman sighed, visibly irritated with your swift duplication of the map. He rolled the map back up again and rubbed his temples beneath his hat, before responding again.

“I can assure you, Mr Pendigraph that Eyeless Jack's horde is by no means simply a lump sum of gold. Every Lord in the past decade has suffered from his efforts and each has lost something of value. The Tomb Ring of the Kylona House, each gem forged from the ashes of twenty generations of the House's Lords and could ask any dead man a single question. The Vartul countless coin, a portable treasure trove in its own right. Even the Marines of Gareth claim to have lost at least two original books of Gareth's scripture. My employer's own family includes a lost set of pottery that was crafted for his ancestors in recognition of their ascension to Lords. And from the rest of his endeavours, I cannot say for certain, but I heard rumour of a crate that contains the seven sins of the world and Jack will open on the eve of his last battle.”

The last item is stated with more desperation than reverence, as if the man was grasping at straws to maintain your interest. His expression seems slightly worried now, unsure if his description will simply leave you sailing off even quicker without his accompaniment. He takes a breath to gather himself again and pull another smile onto his lips.

“You are obviously no common pirate, else we wouldn't be asking you for such an important mission. And if you had my eye, I could highlight the nature of such important artefacts, as I doubt that Eyeless Jack's men will be so educated or helpful to inform you of such things. I also have it on good authority that if my Lord's property was returned safely and completely, they would be willing to offer another service. Perhaps we could arrange you to apply for a Lord title too, obvious my employer couldn't do it alone, but it would allow you to get your proverbial foot in the door. Or perhaps something else money cannot buy?”

[Raunchel]

Serdynage Hastur-Vartul
She seems normal again, good. I sit down next to her, brushing my hand through her thin hair. I won’t lose her, she might not be the epitome of propriety, but she is useful, and her directness sometimes is comforting. I whisper in her ear: “Lucinda, can you hear me?”

She opens her eyes: “My lady? Why are you here? Why am I here?”

“We had a visitor, and he came through you. I don’t hold you responsible for it, don’t be afraid of that. It was Livilla’s father. He took your body as a vessel, to try to murder Ophelia.”

“And, did you drive the bastard off?”

I can feel Ophelia’s disapproval of such words, but she doesn’t interject. “I actually invited him to come here in person. We should speak carefully, he has proven that by intruding on our conversations before. And he is my grandfather. But you should keep rest for now. And medical attention, I fear that I might have damaged your wrists when Ophelia was threatened. You will be returned to your rooms, don’t try to stand for now, this possession wasn’t kind on your body,”

A tear falls from her eye, almost making me jealous: “But, my lady, can we trust him?”

“No, my dear Lucinda, I am afraid that we can’t. But it is the best option. And you are with us again, that alone makes it worth the risk.”

I turn to Ophelia: “Please, ensure that the halls are empty. I will carry Lucinda to a proper place for her to rest, and for you as well, you will need treatment as well. Please call Yildiz to attend me, young Xanthe will be asleep, and it will be better to inform her in the morning. There is no need to cause more troubled sleep. Yildiz will help me dress. And send a runner to call Maecena. I want her here as soon as possible.”

She follows my instructions, even though she is shocked by the recent events. Which is one of the reasons why she is so dear to me, she is so very strong. I hear her walking, while I still stroke through Lucinda’s hair. She likes it short, I believe that she has the shortest of the four. Yildiz’s hair is the longest. Lucinda is silent, she seems to be very tired, and falls asleep in my lap. I almost feel sorry for what I did, all those years ago. I was only recently turned then, but Livilla’s demands were becoming too much for me. My dear Chloris arranged everything. Then it strikes me, her death already was seven years ago now. Has it been that long? He was speaking the truth then, time slips through my hands like the hairs of Lucinda. Chloris found me four thugs, brutish men who would do what they were told to, for gold.

They were led to her rooms in the middle of the day, and they cut her to pieces. I knew that her sleep was deep, and nothing could disturb her. That made it easy. They then took the parts of her body and placed them in one of my small courtyards, on which only the rooms of my girls could look. Chloris told me that it all burned in contact with the light from above, and all that was left were ashes. Of course, I could not allow these men to tell any tales, and they were given their reward, solid golden coins smeared in the poison of the M’Walis frog. They signed their death warrants when they touched the coins, I can still recall the sounds of them suffocating, that poison was truly helpful.

The bodies were dealt with by my most distasteful servants. A small family of degenerates, a gift from one of my captains. They might be rather dull and hideous, according to everyone who ever saw them, but they are highly efficient at disposing of bodies. I keep them in one of the basements, which some claim to be haunted. They are loyal to me, and whenever I say something, they seem incapable of disobedience. Perhaps it is one of the perks of my condition? I belief that they consume the dead, how else would they subsist, we never feed them.

I hear Yildiz’s soft but heavy steps approach, there are two things that she really likes, eating, and, “Lucinda!”, as she shouts it. The two are really close, and they smell of each other. I haven’t asked about it, that would be impolite, but I have my suspicions. “Yildiz, she is relatively unharmed, but her wrists will need attention, they are broken. I have summoned Maecena to see to them, so it won’t take long for Lucinda to be back to her usual self.”

Maecena is one of the best healers in the city, and the one I always call when one of my favored servants is injured. Once, when a murderer had come for me and Yildiz had been stabbed before I could tear his head off, I feared that she would die from the poison on the blade, but Maecena drew it out and sealed the wound. She is expensive, yes, but that is irrelevant, I am not one of the dregs of the city that can’t even afford to put food on their tables. No, I am Serdynage Hastur-Vartul, and there is nothing that I cannot afford. Many would call me a fool for spending so much to mend a servant, but my girls are more than mere servants to me, they are my senses through which I observe the world.

“Thank you my lady. I only brought this one dress, without the necessary undergarment. I am sorry for that, but I, I was afraid of what had happened to Lucinda.”

I smile at her: “Don’t worry, my dear, I know that you are close, it is only natural to think about those you hold dear.”

I place Lucinda on the ground, and stretch out my arms for Yildiz’s ease when dressing me. She quickly puts on the dress, it isn’t very comfortable, with the pearls pressing into my skin, but it will have to do for now. She trembles while she closes the back. I know that I don’t look as perfect as I normally do, but I have this to take care of first. When Yildiz is finished I pick up Lucinda with both arms. I know that I can do it, but it still surprises me how light she is to me now. Yildiz goes ahead of me, and I follow the sound of her footsteps on the carpets. I don’t want anyone to enter my private domain, so I carry her to one of the guestrooms. I had previously discussed such things with my girls, and that is where Ophelia is waiting. Yildiz guides me to the bed and I place the still-sleeping Lucinda there. “I sent the runner, my lady”, Ophelia says, “What will we tell the healer?”

“We say that there has been an attempted murder, that should be enough, and she is discrete, she won’t be asking questions or saying anything. But before she arrives, Yildiz, please help me get dressed.”

[Vegna]

Raunchel/Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

Despite her rather distant behaviour, Yildiz has you clothed in much more fitting attire by the time Maecena's carriage had arrived. The elderly, ebony skinned woman was draped in her perpetual collection of herbal necklaces, wormwood, shadow-bane and a half dozen other plants tied into chains around her. She always dressed in the crude attire of her home-island, a thick, brown woollen robe, the herb bandoleers and a pair wooden clogs that had a tendency to tear the carpets of unlucky Lords, but her expertise were more than worth her coarseness. She shoos Yildiz away, along with any other servants who might disrupt her work, but lets you stay to ensure that if your servants were to suddenly die it wouldn't be her fault. She had no history of mysterious deaths with patients, but sometimes the unfortunate healer could become a scapegoat in the politics of Bardocas.

She makes a few ''Hmm'' noises as she looks at Lucinda's eyes, asking your servant to say 'Aah', but whatever she was curious over, she wasn't saying at the moment. Instead she removed four of her necklaces, placing two around Lucinda's neck and gently wrapping one around each broken wrist. A low hum resonates in her chest, the pitch rising and falling softly as her trappings start to rustle faintly. It was a song, one you remember from her previous visit, but despite its pleasant melody, you felt it was a song with words, even if Maecena had never utter one. It almost appears to animate the plants into becoming as lively as serpents, wrapping tighter around their wearers, the shadow-bane around Lucinda beginning to lift off of her chest towards the healer's hum. And as soon as the humming stops, the necklaces fall limp again and she retrieves them back onto her person. Pulling a small glass bottle from her robe, filled with some little clumps that looked unpleasantly familiar to a bodily function, her wrinkled hand places the medicine in Lucinda's palms.

“For the ache. It will pass in a few days.”

She tuts at Ophelia's cut, rubbing some nasty smelling ointment to clean the wound before humming the cut into pink, perfect skin again. Her work finished, she returns to the entrance of your estate, the slight path of cut carpet trailing behind her. Her brow is furrowed with thought, as she lingers instead of leaving in her carriage. She walks back towards you, speaking in an hushed tone,

“I respect your house and rules, but as her healer, I wish to ask about the one with the broken wrists. Has she had any . . forgetfulness recently? I ask this off of my hourly, of course.”

You are not alone, as Yildiz returned dutifully as soon as she was allowed, but Maecena's whispers prevent both your servant and her driver from hearing any brief conversation. She is obviously curious, but keeping her carriage close at hand in case you took the question sourly. She may have saved the lives of Lords, but that didn't stop them from acting brashly against a lower citizen.

[GuyFawkes]

Levi T. Pendegraph

Levi did not even so much as bat an eyelid as he looked the man in the eye all the while he was doing his sales pitch, and he was about to leave when the man went on about the seven sins. True he could considered to be a bit crazy, but he was not that crazy.

He was just hanging back then, just letting the man finish, when suddenly his eyebrow raised. He smiled. He had heard what he was waiting for.

Sure treasures were all that for someone like him. Knowing that he was the sole owner of a unique artefact, the thrill it gave him was second to none. But even so, there was one thing he considered as the most important treasure he could ever hold.

That was having someone owe him a favor.

"Now we're talking on the same page, Mr...I'm sorry I'm really terrible with names. Anyway, the important thing here is that I can give you something you want and now you can give me something I want. What I want in exchange for my services is..." he paused, mostly for dramatic effect, "a favor."

"Yes, just one favor. If I do this job for your Lord, then he will owe me one favor that I could call on anytime I want, expiring only until such time as I do call on that favor. Now don't worry, it won't be so much that he'd have to spend some sizable amount of his wealth, no. It won't even be as grand as asking him to help me gain the title of Lord, nor would I do something to cause deliberate harm to his honor. But no matter how small or ridiculous it would be, the favor I would be asking, he should grant it without any questions asked."

"Simple, yes? I think that would be fair enough as my fee, yes," Levi grabbed his chin as if weighing the matter. "Now, do you have the authority to approve of this arrangement, or would you need to go back and talk to your boss, hmm? I'm willing to wait."

[Raunchel]

Serdynage Hastur-Vartul
I don’t like the healer’s sounds, they disturb the silence that I like in an unorganized way. And the healing magic, well, it almost hurts, it stings in my skin and the humming presses on my ears. When she visits she always damages the carpets, so normally I have them removed beforehand. Unfortunately, today I lack such time for preparation. In the morning they will be replaced. It will be only a minor cost, but still an annoyance. Then she asks about Lucinda, that is interesting, it means that she either knows about what happened, or suspects that something else is happening, either way, it could lead to information, and I have a strong longing to know as much as possible. Especially about this situation, Grandfather remains a great danger, and an enigma.

I whisper back, some concern in my voice, it is one of the things that I am good at, lying. It is all I ever seem to do: “I am not aware of any such episodes occurring, but of course, I do not know everything. Is there a reason to suspect such a thing? Are there any signs?”

[PseudoStraw]

Mare Maris

Her anger was running hot and the shouts of the two dim-witted humans was making the bubbling bile rise in her throat. She turned towards them, her back hunched, her eyes glowing like two suns at midday and the long jagged razor’s edge of her teeth in plain view.

She lunged.

First she pushed the Marine onto his haunches and then she turned on the elf. The argument had stopped the instant she intervened and now two sets of eyes were fixed on her form. She panted and growled as she held herself back from ripping the whiny elf’s throat out, her clawed hands flexed as the strain.

“No. More. Talking. EITHER OF YOU.” She roared again, her bellow like that of a great fog horn mixed with the guttural screams of a predator. “You both try my patience and I have little to spare…” She growled again, circling around the two men as if she were to eat them both. “There is no more time for games, no more time for skirting around the truth and hiding… That beast we just saw was an imposter! That creature is nothing more than a fake Leviathan.” She raised herself up to full standing. Her shoulders thrust back and the glowing eyes and jagged teeth glaring at both the startled men. “I am the true Leviathan. I am here to reclaim my body and I need you two idiot humans to stop your bickering and help me! That creature we just saw will be nothing but a devil to the sea if we do not kill it!”

She turned from them both and relaxed herself, returning to her human form. Smoothing her hair back she said her thoughts aloud to the waves. “It is young, about ten years of age but it is still too strong for any of us at the moment… I have seen where it is being drawn though. Someone is controlling it, telling it what to do, who to kill… We must go to an island not far from the Maw. Take me there and we may find the answers we need.”

She turned back to them and asked coldly, “I am sure you two much have questions. Ask them now and then we leave.”

[Vegna]

PseudoStraw/ Mare Maris

The elf state is torn between incredulous and laughing at the absurdity of your claim. On the other hand, the Marine is silent, the sudden news clearly sinking into him. He picks up his fallen weapon in caution, but he doesn't point at you for the moment. Yelleh regains his composure first, slowly moving towards his wheel, resting his back against it before slumping to the floor.

“Absolutely insane, you both are absolutely insane. You ask that sail towards certain death and carry uncertain death in my boat, whoever you are.”

“Silence, Yelleh. She is not lying. Those eyes cannot be made by any druid I know of, she is the sea's own master. And you, Leviathan. You are certain that serpent was a twisted copy of yourself?”

Harold is cautious of you, no longer eye-contact in a mixture of reverence and something closer to anger at your reveal. He had been dumbstruck by your unveiling of your true nature, but he was a typical Marine and the job is always first to them.

“Harold, you cannot believe this woman. She is a shape-changer, an illusionist, not your bed-time story. She probably does not have enough sense to rub two thoughts together, besides paying us.”

“She is. I know this, and if she is talking with us, then she can stop that beast somehow. Please tell me, Leviathan, after we aid you, what will you do to us? Will you leave us, eat us? What are we mortals to a being such as you?

The elf scoffs at the insinuation of plural mortals, but compared to you, nothing is immortal but the sea, sky and sand. His attention is still rapt on you, whether he believes you or not. Neither look like leaving your mission soon, out of duty or the lingering promise of gold, but where as during the journey before meeting your copy, whilst they seemed to treat you as an important guest, you were obviously dangerous in both of their eyes.


Raunchel/Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

“I see it sometimes, men one day wake-up claiming they were half the Archipelago away the last night, but haven't been sailing for weeks. Those I see, they have a simple flu, nothing to suggest brain troubles or a spell. They had not been sick enough to see me during whole missing period, which is also strange. One's husband heard she had a coughing episode shortly before she was waking up in the bath that she didn't remember calling for. They also sometimes have dark palettes, the roof of her mouth, like a dirty chimney. If anyone knew more about this odd flu, I could make some kind of remedy, but its like the sickness passes in a seconds notice and no one knows it is going to happen until it happens. If your servant wasn't ill for a long gap that she doesn't remember, that would be a major sign."

Maecena lingers on that point for a moment, as if looking to see any reaction in your impenetrable demeanour. No clues forth coming, she shrugs with a loud rattle.

“But perhaps she simply eat some octopus with ink, your Lords diets are wide. They will both recover without problems within two days at most, but should anything else happen, you know where I am. If the black palette spreads to teeth and she starts weeping green, might be first sign of abyss rot and I'll have a potion prepared, but unlikely. If nothing else, I wish you and your ladies well, my Lord.”

Unless you are interested in investigating Maecena's knowledge further, she will leave on her carriage back home. Either way, Yildiz thanks the healer at the first opportunity and has an obviously curious state about anything the elderly woman might have said about Lucinda, but she remains silently dutiful until you are willing to tell her or issue a command.

GuyFawkes/Levi T. Pendegraph

“Oh no, no, that will not be an issue. I did not offer any more than my Lord intended to offer, they will be most pleased to have your expert skills on this endeavour. I'm sure our work together will be quite successful. Well, that is everything then, Mr Pendigraph. You may enjoy as much time as you might require to supply and gather additional hands if you require such things to prepare your vessel and set your affairs in order. When you are ready, simply inform the auction house that you are bidding on a upcoming black-sand peninsula. Any amount of coin will suffice, and I will be ready to join you on your ship within two day afterwards. Or shall I tell my Lord that you are ready to move now?”

He is much more relaxed now, visibly pleased at your agreement and rising to leave. Whether you settle on a handshake or just an assuring nod, he soon leaves the galleon for his carriage. He gives your party a last wave, before his vehicle rattles into the dimly lit city streets. If he would be able to survive your adventure together, it would probably look favourably on his Lord, but few Lords cared for the life of a messenger. If you could at least keep him alive long enough to pick out the correct pottery, then you wouldn't necessarily need to worry about him.

The trio are now once again in only their own company, the waves roughly crashing against the pier struts as you are now free to work on your own plans, until you are ready to move for Eyeless Jack's treasure. What interactions you had made with his pirates, they favoured rather shoddy looking vessels, loaded with as many guns and weapons as they could stock. Slow, but dangerous if you got too close alongside. Wyat would be very excited to the idea of seeing such an infamous pirate when you told him the news, but despite his protests and demonstrations with his wooden sword, he wasn't quite the fighter his elder siblings were.

(We can summarise the prep-work if you like, but Levi has anything he wishes to sort out in civilised and unhostile waters, now is time.)

[Raunchel]

Serdynage Hastur-Vartul
When the healer has left I turn to Yildiz, she deserves to know, I will not risk her trust for something like this. It is all I have in this world, I place my cold hand on her shoulder: “Please, don’t be worried, Lucinda will recover soon. She couldn’t know the truth, obviously. But she did tell me about some peculiar disease, which I think might have something to do with my dear grandfather. So, be watchful, she warned for weeping in green and blackness spreading through the mouth. Watch her for these signs, you are the closest to her, and it is to protect her. But please, don’t tell her this, what happened to her already is enough of a blow to her, and we don’t want her to become upset. She likes her independence.”

I slowly walk back to my chambers, led by Yildiz. There still are letters to be answered, no matter what happens, I have to keep doing my work, or my rivals will see me in ruins. When they sense weakness I will lose part of my position, and that is all I have, except for my girls of course. Some belief that murder is a good solution, but I tend to disagree, one does not simply murder a lord or Bardocas. They are well-protected, and even should one die, there are heirs and allies. It has happened in the past, I have been read all about it, when dynasties feuded. Such warfare is terribly expensive, and quite ineffective as most lords live in their palaces, which are sometimes compared to fortresses. But that is only logical, those places don’t only house the greatest people in the whole archipelago, but also hold their riches, which are desired by many of the common people. Even if I were normal, I would never have travelled outside my inner walls alone. At all times I have my people with me, even when merely walking through the gardens, sealed off by the outer walls. One simply never knows what might happen.

After finishing the letters I excuse Yildiz, allowing her to go to Lucinda. She is replaced by the young Xanthe. I still remember her from when she just arrived in my household, as a little child. She still is young, but she has grown, and is loyal. She doesn’t remember much of her old life, only that she was always hungry, a feeling that she doesn’t know anymore. Her family had thrown her out, onto the streets to beg, they couldn’t care for her. Or they wouldn’t, people are like that, especially to daughters who aren’t as they should be. Xanthe’s family wasn’t even the most terribly poor, but her skin rash was intolerable to them. She saw them once, she told me, two years ago, from one of my carriages. Of course, they didn’t recognize their daughter, wearing clothes worth more than the houses of the poor. The sight made her happy, she said. She hopes to one day be allowed to bring them here, in secret of course, to have their blood drained. So far I have refused her, I think that she should be the one to do so when I have turned her.

The day passes while I sit inside. I never tire, I always work. That is one of the reasons why I have four girls, they do need their rest, and time for themselves. I feel anxious, not knowing what the night will bring. I can’t make overt preparations, he might find out, and my plans would fail. I know that the cost will be high, if he seeks to fight. Instead I go through my registers, listing my possessions, thinking about how I could hurt someone I know nothing about.

[Kaynebot]

Thagrosh wanted to roar, to let his rage flow through. He probably would have had the echo not hiss, presumably at him as well as the demons. Thagrosh sprinted towards the gate, seeing the guards run towards his anathema. Thagrosh unsheathed Rapture and cut the gate in two hoping he hadn't set off any wards. Then to his most vehement disliking he followed the echo and crouched. Skirting towards the demon planning on using him to get past all the enemies and slip by him when necessary......or backstab. Oh the joy it would be to sever his spine, watch him helpless as he gorged on his blood, and slowly but ever so carefully ripped his crystal out of his demonic body, to watch as he writhed in pain unable to bear it, to bear being so weak and pathetic, to bear missing what it felt like to be a champion, to rule! Thagrosh hated what he was doing but he realized it would be suicide to seek that fight, even if the death would be worth it as long as he killed that pathetic being, so long as

[Vegna]

Kaynebot /Thagrosh

To your fortune and perhaps shame, the demon doesn't even register you as you move behind its wake of destruction. Where as before, it hunted and fought you with the clear predatory attitude of battling a rival, now it even registers the guards more than its deigns to notice your movements. A trio of halberd-wielding men swing to try and quickly halt his advance, but in a blur that your eyes only struggle to follow, it decapitates the weapons and their owners in a breath.

The crossbow bolts bounce off of his hide like rain, as an shroud of flame encapsulates his being, the next ward triggering from his blunt approach. A brief cheer goes up from the defenders, until the cutlass pushes through burning aura, cutting through some invisible force and then the march continues. The demon expression is now hidden in the flickering coating of ineffective magic, but his stride is unbroken, still confidant and certain.

One guardsman cuts away from attacking the burning invader, his attention turned to you as you approach the building, in perhaps the vague hope that you were its conjurer, that by capturing you, it would stop. He draws his feeble iron blade against you, the chaos of the battle most likely addling his mind if he can fight you, but he attempts a shaking swing for your arm all the same. You don't even register his attack at first, much like the demon, you block on instinct as you focus on higher prey. As Rapture slices through the guard's weapon like butter, he keeps charging towards you with the broken hilt in a vain effort to best you.

A second, higher pitched alarm resonates now, as you notice your nemesis has now punctured his way into the museum, a ragged hole in the marble demonstrating his choice of entrance. The crossbow men have mostly retreated either to flee the scene or find a better vantage point inside. As if carrying you inside, the wind is at your back as you approach the newly formed entrance, though its sends a chill down your spine. The demon has stopped now, as his eyes scour the room but as the wind follows you inside, his marble head snaps towards you, its eyes wide as the flames are blown away from its body. The echo lets out a cry of MOVE and you can see the demon trying to dash too, but its too late.

You had never been shot by a cannon before, but if the cannon ball was about eight feet wide, this was a pretty close idea to the feeling. You had been 'fired' inside the building, your back slamming against the second marble wall after crashing through about fifteen different vases. Your echo shuddered whatever had happened, but it was all too sudden to understand. The demon had create another hole in the building's wall, and you could only assume that he had borne the brunt of whatever 'that' was.

But the echo doesn't give you time to rest contemplating why or what, only that you were now the only one in the museum and your prize enters your vision in a moment of concussion induce serenity. A floating, white gem, its textures rough and uncut, but with each step towards its casing, the voice grew. It was like hearing a voice behind stone, but it resonated with your being. Your body was injured from the mysterious attack, and you had no idea if there remained any wards protecting this case. But he would return soon and these precious few second you had now were all you had to figure out how to grab the crystal.

Raunchel/Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

The Braille lists afford you the privacy that any of your other servants aren't ready to entrust, their pittings indecipherable to all but the few scholars who amended the texts for such fewer individuals who could afford to fund such a service. You are left alone to your research, the staff long accustomed to your behaviour long summed up as 'the eccentricity of the nobility'.

Man power was something that you held in same vague quantity as the rest of the Lords of Bardocas kept to. When the more civilised members of Bardocas' history determined that private in-land armies had created more warfare than peace, the Lord's Court had formed a official Guard, one that could serve the interest of any Lord without question. They were closer to pre-paid mercenaries than peace keepers, but they were well funded, trained and never need to a reason to perform a task. A few dozen to fifty Guardsmen could be acquired without much fuss, but a larger mob could appear as a sign of weakness, unless disguised as security for some grand display.

Your loyal, if disgusting family that rested below the house would likely eat your grandfather, ash and all, if you commanded, but they have a tendency to enjoy themselves too much if give the opportunity to hunt in the city. They doubtlessly killed less than the rest of the common folk did in a single night, but their eating habits could result in a unfortunate witness, that would require additional effort to remove. Otherwise, mercenaries of all shapes and sizes plied their trade in the city, and with enough time, ones that have even faced beings like yourself might be found.

Objects, weapons, esoteric artefacts, these things were much more clear in quantity. Magical reinforced arms, shields and armour make up twenty four decorative, but usable suits of plate steel within your home. Perhaps a test of your own strength against one of the chest plates would give idea of how well they might stand against a vampire's fist, though the issue still lied in your utter lack of knowledge of your grandfather's own strength.

Three items held the most potential promise, though perhaps not all permanently. The Vartul Countless Coin, an item that could be thrown into a pile of gold with a word and within a few minutes, you would have it all magically contained in that single coin. A counterfeit had been made for security once before pirates had managed to steal it, but it had a much more apparent limit. Not a true weapon, but a potential last resort if you couldn't kill your grandfather. Next was the Rusted Mace, it required to be levitated when stored and handled with enchanted gloves at all times, but that two foot piece of solid metal ate away at anything it touched, even the gloves. Your mother never told you how her family acquired it before she passed, she only commanded that it remain kept out of sight at all times. Lastly was the Hinkeypunk, an spirit of flame that had long been held in a glass lantern. Its kind were dangerous fire users and its response to being freed was unlikely to be friendly, but your enemy or delivery mercenary wouldn't need to know that fact.

[Deathkeeper]

There are times when you realize that something really just wasn't such a good idea. To make it all really, really short, this was one of those times.
For one thing, we were on a wider street now. Had we still been in the alleys, it wouldn't have been that hard to push someone flying two feet back into a wall and peeled them off. But sadly, we were not in an alley five feet wide. Which means that my response was to take the best evasive maneuvers you can make when there's a solid three seconds of absolutely no control because two *****es are sitting on your back.
I started flailing like an idiot. And you know, it might have worked a little bit. I mean sure, yeah, that struggle was followed immediately with the burning sensation of steel through skin, but even though small, my back spines are pointy. And so are the thumbs of my wings. And every extremity I have. And my head. We dragons are just a pointy bunch. And I'm fairly sure the intent had been to cripple me, shred my wings and then hack at the wings themselves until they sliced through the muscles, like when you hamstring an animal, all before they landed. And so while I still got enough holes in me to knock me out of the air, I kept my fifth and sixth limbs that day. I'm not really sure how much damage I did. My wings splashed blood a bit, so if my horns or spines did anything, I didn't have any evidence. I did get some blood on my claws, and through it all I think I heard at least one surprised yelp. I'd absolutely love it if I'd managed to mire those faces of theirs that I'm sure they love admiring and claiming have beauty. Ick. Way to make me racist in one day, blasted pigeons. But if I did any lasting damage, I didn't get a chance to see, because moments later they disengaged and I had to focus on landing. Torn as they were, my wings would only get worse if I tried to use them, so I tucked them in close and let myself fall.
Now, if you couldn't tell, dragons should not be able to fly. We're heavy. We can fly because we're magic enough to tell physics to go easy on us. But this means that when we're learning how to do that, it doesn't always work out. And if you can't tell where I'm going with this, it means we get used to crash landings at a young age. Our legs are strong; we need them that way to propel us into the air for take-off leaps. But it also means that they're our best shot at absorbing a fall. I had only a few moments, but I managed to orient myself properly just as I hit an overhanging tarp, tearing straight through it (Thanks, razor-sharp toes) and hitting the ground. Hard. My legs would be aching tomorrow for sure and I think I cracked at least one of the talons on my foot, but at least I didn't break my neck. You'd be surprised at how much a tarp like that would change. I nearly wrecked the poor fellow's stall though. In hindsight it was pretty funny, me hopping out from the pieces of the crate I'd flattened, for a second embarrassed enough to forget the bleeding injuries.
At the very least, the wings are not a place that bleeds all that much. It's all really skin, so even when cut all the way through there's no arteries to sever. And really it's not even like head wounds that bleed a lot, since unlike the skull with its brain and senses wings don't need tons and tons of capillaries and blood flow. Oh, don't get me wrong, I was in danger of blood loss real bad, but I had a few minutes before I started to feel faint. And with all my bones intact I wasn't quite in shock. Or maybe I was, because I just started laughing. Pretty hard, too. Maybe not hysterical. Or maybe I was, I don't even know. I don't even think I heard what the stupid pigeon said when she flew by to taunt me, I just kept laughing. I as so out of it I thought it'd be funny to look her straight in the eyes as she gave me a confused look and draw a claw over my throat like how silly people do when they're trying to talk about axing someone without saying it. I hope I freaked her out, I really do. Because honestly yeah, I was pretty out of it from that much pain. I just started walking, down the streets. After all that we hadn't gotten all that far. Yeah, turns out it'd only been a couple blocks, only a three minute's flight after all that. Wonder where their base was. If that's where they were headed now I knew the general direction, but that doesn't really help. I wondered why they'd needed that five of 'em just to rob an old man. If the first had gotten all the way to the base, told them she needed help with a dragon, and come back, they'd have had to be pretty close to get there within those few minutes of flying. Herm. Stupid pigeons.
Or that's what my brain was thinking, because apparently pigeons' tactics was more important than my wings bleeding all over me, the ground, and probably ruining my nice loincloth. At least no one tried to rob me on top of it all. I knew of this little clinic near the Guild. I didn't even know if they were medicine healers or magic healers or whatever. I just knew they worked with the Guild from time to time and someone had half-joked that they'd love to get a look at a dragon's muscle structure sometime. I'd have preferred a professional healing mage or one of my relatives any day, but even if I had been right in the head at the time I didn't have much of a choice.
I staggered into the front room (very lucky that the door swung in and not out), my vision starting to blur and get hazy.
"Two healed wings please, hold the leeches."
I slurred, delirious. I wobbled and started to fall as I lost consciousness, my last thought being very sincere hope that the light-colored thing I'd aimed myself at was something soft.

[Raunchel]

Serdynage Hastur-Vartul
The Guard will not be an option, unfortunately, they might talk, and are more difficult to deal with quietly. Whoever I employ to destroy Grandfather will not be allowed to survive, I don’t want there to be any hints of what I am, and what might have happened. There shouldn’t even be suggestions of it. Mercenaries will be doing the job, they are easy enough to find, and very, very disposable. Should I want it, I would be able to employ a tremendous army. Not that I want to of course, it would again draw attention. No, I will require more individually effective mercenaries, creatures who will do the task, and can then be quietly removed. But that is not yet what I will do, first I must draw information from him, and lure him into a sense of safety. I know enough of my abilities to understand that I can tear apart most men, and given his far greater abilities, he will be nearly invulnerable to attempts to murder, if he is watchful. But no one is eternally watchful, and then they are vulnerable.

My artefacts are useful, but it reminds me, when all this is over I should get back to my plan to connect my palaces, I can’t give up one of them, although I mostly reside in the Vartul manor. The Hastur manor might be smaller, but it still is a symbol of who I am, and it always is useful to have two fortified houses to retreat to. It will be tremendously expensive, but will serve as a great show of force, a high wall between two manors, wide enough for my carriage. The distance is not very great, half a mile only. It will require some ways to pass under it, but it will certainly show my power to the other lords. And to the commoners of course, it is important to constantly remind them who their betters are.

I don’t like that about myself, while I should be thinking about a solution for my problems, my mind drifts away to simple things. But I have to focus. For tonight, when he might come, I have to be prepared. I have to show him trust, while remaining capable of defense. But how? Of course, I will prepare rooms for this meeting. It will take place in the old meeting room of my grandfather. The decorative woodcuttings are old-fashioned these days, but it is a nice room, filled with secret passages, he never was a trusting person. That will allow me to escape, should things go wrong. I cannot hide warriors there, he would certainly know that, but it has the advantage of being close to the guardhouse, which makes for a good excuse to have them near myself. I will keep Yildiz with me, she has not yet had experiences with him, and she is terribly stubborn, which might be useful. I will move the Hinkeypunk to one of the secret compartments, I can trust Xanthe with that task. I might not be a match for Grandfather, but I can still use that terrible weapon if I have to. It should surprise and maybe destroy him. If my house is burned down in the process of saving myself, so be it. The outer walls will hold, and the important things can be recovered. I will send Lucinda and Ophelia to the Hastur manor for their recovery, it is closer to the sea and has healthier air.

And otherwise I can always escape to my troops, he cannot face them all, not without drawing enormous problems to himself. In the meeting room I will keep a victim for him as well, it is a sign of hospitality to receive guests with refreshments after all.

[Kaynebot]

Thagrosh's head pounded and his body had the sorest kind of pounding pain. It was a kind of pain he had experienced before but his head was too fuzzy to think of what. Thagrosh shook his head as kept mindlessly taking steps towards his...his life, his reason for existence. Thagrosh was already instinctively reaching out a hand, his hand was getting closer before the voice got through. Its could be warded the hiss came through his clouded conscious. Thagrosh yanked his hand back. He knew he only had a few moments before it came.

Thagrosh started backing up to the wall, the cogs in his mind slowly starting to pick up as he forced the fog-like pain out. Each step resounded with pain, he was so close, so close. Reaching the back wall he rested on it just long enough to formulate a plan, only a few seconds. At this moment Thagrosh felt an intense hatred for magic, for those nuisances called wards, for this museum, and most of all for his nemesis in the other room. In that instant he decided upon a course of action, the voice made no comment, which was odd. He pushed his hand off the wall, held the edge of Rapture up to slice his palm. The blood started to well as he pushed off into a run almost stumbling from the rubble and pain but he kept moving. The closer he got the more tumult his head was in, Its suicide the magic will kill you!...No!...This is suicide!, Thagrosh roared clearing the voices out of his head, at the same time launching himself into the air making a ramp of one of the broken vase cases. So close to the reason for his existance, he choked his hold on Rapture, bringing his hand closer to the blade edge. It felt even heavier than usual, his muscles aching but Thagrosh held the blade up angling it for the case. Reaching the arc in his jump he was moving downward towards the gem. He reached his right hand out in front a fraction behind the tip of the blade. His rush decision was to break the case with Rapture and as soon as physically possible unite him with the gem. This thing hinged on a delay in the magical defense happening, and that the gem would unite without actually being inside his body, Thagrosh rolled the dice hoping the blood connection would work.

As he was falling closer Thagrosh felt the voice grow stronger, the longing to be reunited. The voice echoed if Rapture hits my physical form you may very well die, it sounded almost completely emotionless with a slight twang of longing in there. Thagrosh didn't have time to re-position and his arm was aching so much from the first hit and now Rapture's weight. All-or-nothing, Thagrosh leaning forward staring down that white gem, his locked on it, the edge of Rapture angled as close to it without hitting as possible and his hand a fraction behind the blade ready to reach out and reclaim his gem, his power, HIS LIFE!

[Vegna]

LordDeathkeeper/Roran

Pins prick through your tender webbing. A foul drink is tipped down your mouth. A harpy snaps at your head. You feel them wrap around your wings, dragging you into the earth and further. A black flame cooks your skin and from inside, hotter than any furnace. You burn, the land cooks, the sea boils, the air sears.

Your eyes open with a start, as you lie sprawled across three low tables. A sturdy operating table is beneath your back, whilst your wings are strapped down across a pair of smaller, thinner pieces of furniture. They are wrapped in bloody bandages, the torn skin aching as you instinctively try to retract them. Your chest wounds have been cleaned of its blood, leaving dark red welts in their places. You are soon joined by a greying haired orc, his tusked face familiar as the one who poured that horrible cup of something down your throat. He has fresh rags and water, grinning reassuringly as he attends to your restrained limbs.

“Good to see you're finally up, I was worried that I'd give you'd too much song-wine. An ogre's worth seemed about right though. Easy, easy. I'll release your wings, I just needed to be sure you wouldn't move too much when I was sewing them up. I think I didn't sew anything important together, but you'd probably be the judge of that. Okay, this one looks good, no infection. You'll want to come back in about a couple weeks to get the stitches out and best go light on the flying for a while. Or just do what you like, its all business for us if you come back regularly.”

He jokes as he carefully removes the improvised restraints on your wings, allowing you to tenderly relax them behind your back again. A few test flaps suggest no permanent damage, but its not comfortable and the stitches tug slightly when you try harder. Gliding should be easy enough, but fast or extended flight might cause the wounds to open again if you still required the stitches.

Paying him his relatively meagre fee, the morning gust of air hits you deep in the lungs, chasing the last vestiges of sleep from your spirit. Last nights fact flooded your mind, the harpies, the fisherman and his box and the merchant you saved. A group of harpies that large would be noticeable, most-likely in the rougher ends of Bardocas and someone would know about them if you tried asking around, perhaps with a bit of 'coercion' if necessary.

The fisherman seemed more urgent to pass on the box than the merchant, maybe he knew that you were going to jumped either way? And the merchant himself, he seemed amiable enough that he'd open up about the box considering he didn't have anything to lose now. And you still had the grape-vine in the Messenger's Guild, being the voice of the city meant that news was always freshest and less fabricated in the guild. Perhaps a few guild mates would be able to provide some gossip for you. Or work if you wanted to forget about it all.

Kaynebot /Thagrosh

The twinkle of broken glass doesn't even have time to crash against the floor. The hot trickle of your blood catches the glowing side of the gem, as Rapture continues its downward cut through the fragile wooden base. There was no rattling pain this time, your flesh simply relaxes into the powerful form you remember, as the glorious energy returns to your once weak limbs. Your flesh knits and bruises fade into flawless, pale skin, the power to control your own destiny at your finger tips again.

The only discomfort comes from your right leg, the furthest part of your body from the glowing gem that is now clearly embedded in your left palm. Your leg, from below the ankle to the entirety of your shoe and the foot inside, is now a single mass of grey stone. It seems that Kylona did take a leaf out those Gorgonite Dwarves book, the transformation unable to fully protect your form in time, creating a lifeless monument to your efforts to regain what you lost. Yet no panic trembles through your body at such a jarring sight, not even from the familiar, yet different tone in your mind.

“It is no loss, you will recover. You must survive until the danger passes.”

The echo is now eradicated from the recesses of your mind, its worrisome attitude now replaced with a calm, collected tone instead. A high pitched whistle of an impressed note echoes around the room, and that shudder that you felt from the wind is now crawling down your back. You feel surrounded, despite the only other bodies had fled or the demon that stirred in the next room. It was circling you, or it was a circle, you weren't sure. But you didn't have time to worry, as a slab of marble was kicked across the floor towards you.

“He is injured, but he is still stronger. You should move, an enemy without an exit will fight with all of its might.”

Silent, but visibly angry, the demon steps back through the opening in the wall. Its cheek is torn, exposing a razor-sharp collection of bloodied teeth. His rapier is still gripped tight, undamaged by the assault. Its weapon is pointed at you, but its eyes gaze up into the air above you both and its feet towards the hole you both entered through. It wants to flee, even more so than attempting to claim the tempting gem within your hand. If you let it pass and avoid a potential repeat of your last battle, or risk your long desired gem and fight a desperate enemy.

Raunchel/Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

Your inner circle loyally follows your orders, despite their displeasure at being separated from you and each other. Yildiz is torn in her desire to follow Lucinda and smiting your Grandfather from the island herself, but Lucinda calms her with a few kind words. Ophelia wishes you well luck and her desire to return as soon as you will allow, whilst Xanthe almost falters to fight the tears at her 'sisters' leaving, but the pair embrace one last time before the carriage leaves and she dutifully moves the Hinkeypunk to its hiding spot.

The window is open in the meeting room, the breeze calmly passing through the room as your attendant occasional shivers beside the unconscious body of your refreshment, the drugged wine having gone straight to the unlucky victim's head. A gasp escapes Yildiz, as you gather your Grandfather makes his entrance, his presence soundlessly entering the room. His soft footsteps move suddenly beside the body, whilst your servant returns to your side. A thump punctures the flesh of his food's neck, before he licks one of his dripping finger, tasting the vintage. Approving, he relaxes beside the body, quietly feeding as the donor drifted into a far deep rest.

“I appreciate the meal, Miss Hastur-Vartul. My opportunities to eat so freely have been regretfully few, even in my time on these seas. It was very kind of you to offer.”

He is quiet for a moment, as this is your first conversation without his open hostility. His true voice is gentle, but firm, much like you remember your own father's, but his age weighs his words, especially without his previous fury. He is light and sure-footed, maybe wary of each step in enemy territory.

“You have much fortune being able to balance your past life and your new existence so quickly. Others have been slain for minor slip-ups in their first year, but your pre-existing lifestyle seems to mesh well. I only hope that you can continue to do so in the decades that are yet to pass, it will not grow easier to maintain. And even if you do not, the world of the undead may not suit you either. But enough on what is not yet. Tell me, do you believe in gods, Serdynage? The sea is certainly not short of preachers or churches, but do you subscribe to something greater than yourself? Some greater guardian watching and judging over your life?”

[Raunchel]

Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

He makes little sound, somehow, that doesn’t surprise me. But clearly he finds it harder to drink than I do, that is valuable knowledge, it means that he lacks good servants, and the ability to support them. But the way he speaks to me, calling me miss. I don’t think that I’ve ever been so deeply insulted in my life. What does he think I am? Some girl from the streets without antecedents? My lineage stretches back through the centuries, my names are almost older than this very city. But I don’t show it, I can’t afford to show such things, ever. It would damage my standing, and that would be unacceptable.

What must it be like for him? He hates me, I know that, hatred does not die easily. But at the same time there is curiosity, he knows little about me, and wishes to know more. Then his question comes. It surprises me, it truly does. What could his motive be? Maybe he subscribes to some sect and will only accept me if I would do the same? Or maybe he intends to test me, to see if I have pierced the lies of the mortals. Either way I take a risk, and he won’t let me talk around the subject, he won’t be that stupid. He after all is the one with the knowledge here. So, I will have to state the truth, no matter how much I hate doing that. It might even create some measure of trust, and trust is what I want from him.

“When I was a child I believed that there were gods, gods who had punished me for some reason. It is what my parents said to me. Or they asked the gods where they had failed, what they had done wrong to be burdened with me. But despite all the sacrifices they made, there came no answer, and no light into my eyes. When I grew older I thought about these things, and I came to understand that all these sacrifices and prayers didn’t make a difference. And that was for a very simple reason, the gods don’t exist, or they don’t care about those who are in the world. Whichever of those is the truth, doesn’t matter. There are no greater beings that steer us, our only fate is the one that we make ourselves. I have met many who are truly religious, who really believe and don’t only say their prayers because they are supposed to or because they are without other resorts. But all of them shared a few traits, the foremost of them being a supreme arrogance, as though they are the only ones to grasp a great truth. The other is that they all denounce each other as frauds and liars. The miracles that they claim could just as easily have been the work of mortal magicians.”

I pause for a moment, refilling my lungs. “Of course, I do have my temples here, and visit shrines and priests. I make the sacrifices that are expected of me and in public I would never speak ill of them. But of course, my experience is rather limited, so I would love to know how you would perceive such affairs, having almost infinitely more experience of the greater world than I do.”

[Kaynebot]

Thagrosh felt euphoria flow through his body, as the power coursed through him. That fraction of time it took to empower him had made sure the crystal's hold on him could never be let go. Thagrosh could never give up such alluring power. He let a slight growl off at seeing his foot and would have even been angry at the crystal if it had not become his complete and utter savior. With this reunion, the crystal was above all reproach.

And just as fast as Thagrosh felt the euphoria, he seethed with hatred for the demon that interrupted. The same one that caused his life to pointless for years, to hold no fruit other than the search for an item that should have never been lost. Thagrosh can't help himself from growling harshly at the demon, even against the crystal's wishes, he brought Rapture up angling it towards the demon. Ah, Rapture, it felt as light as short sword, he could fight with it for what felt like hours on end now, no more having to deal with pitiful amount of strength, no more worrying if he could heft Rapture one more time for the kill. No more lives spared because he couldn't finish the job.

Thagrosh cut short his growl when the voice spoke a second time, Thagrosh shook his head, there was no way he could stand down, but the crystal said he must, so he shall. Thagrosh took a step towards the exit, showing no hint as to what he would do, still because he had no idea what to do. Thagrosh roared loudly letting the whole grounds know of his triumph before stepping out the exit first, he didn't move his eyes from the demon though, one step towards him and Thagrosh would begin blood-crazed assault. Thagrosh whispered "I'll kill you" to the Demon before fully exiting. He just couldn't resist.

Trying to keep a three-hundred sixty degree awareness, Thagrosh made to exit the building. He could invade further into the property and demand to be healed from the Kylona household or he could show Marius his glory, and find the info form him.

[GuyFawkes]

Levi T. Pendegraph

"Good, good. And no, the three of us will be enough. As I am sure your Lord has done all the necessary preparations on his part," Levi replied, half of his mind already calculating what to do next. He followed the man after the handshake as they walked outside into the deck.

"Yes, yes, I will drop by soon, most certainly by the end of this week," he replied on the matter of when they will depart. But as the gentleman was already halfway down the gangway, he suddenly called out.

"Wait, you said we could leave as soon as possible, correct? If that is so, then please tell your Lord we shall be ready to leave by midnight."

The statement elicited puzzled looks from both of the Twins, earning only a smile from Levi as he waved goodbye to their business partner. When the carriage disappeared behind one of the buildings, before even Hanya could begin to open his mouth, Levi spoke.

"All right, perfect! Now, boys and girls, we have ourselves a few hours to "collect" our things and get the hell out of here," he said as he put each of his arms over and around one of the Twins' neck. Hanya still had that stupid look on his face, but Kravitz looked like she had already understood.

"Back to the auction! All right, K. You go and talk to the auction staff, try to see how many of the items you can trace to the new owners. I believe most will still be at their storage room, but some smaller ones might have already been taken home. Also, try to see which of the new owners are still at the place. I will go and mingle with the rich bastards, see what I can find out for myself. Got it?"

Kravitz answered with a nod.

"Hey, hey, hey. I know I'm too awesome for plans and all, but what do I do?" Hanya cut in. Levi looked at him silently for a few seconds.

"Just do what you do best."

"You mean charm all the ladies and be cool and all?"

"Yeah, sounds synonymous to acting stupid," he ruffled the lad's hair before letting the two go.

"Yeah, I'm like...hey!"

Levi laughed as he walked down the gangway, leading the trio down the ship and on their way back to the auction house.

The walk back was largely uneventful, small talk here and there, with the usual Levi antics when they meet a pretty lady or two and of course Hanya's loud voice. In no time, they were standing at the entrance of the auction house, and as they entered, they noticed that the auction was over. People were already gathered in groups, chatting, laughing, drinking. Through the noise of the crowd, the prominent theme of conversation was about someone boasting about what they got and how much they got it was, and it made Levi smile.

"Nice. This is exactly what I was looking for. All right. Proceed as planned. Find me in about an hour."

Both Hanya and Kravitz nodded, and then the trio fanned out among the crowd, each to their own business. Hanya immediately headed for the food table, grabbing a plate and some of the weird-looking entree, while Kravitz slowly made her way across the room to the front, slowly scanning for any employees of the auction. Levi gabbed some drinks then slowly walked around, looking for any group with someone who seemed to have gotten some prize from the auction.

[Deathkeeper]

I didn't spend too much time at the clinic after I woke up. Nice folk, I suppose, but I had no desire to stay in a place like that. Bad memories already, and the smell of medicines stings my nostrils.
I got looks as I left, nothing strange there. My legs ached like I said they would, but they weren't broken, so I could walk. No one was really a bother. These were the people not dumb enough to raise a dragon's ire. And oh, was my ire raised.
I went straight to the Guild, although I took care to look for the old man's stall. He'd be a stop for later. Walking in I greeted our desk person of the day. I swear it's so different every week I can never predict who it'll be.
Right now I was just asking about the damages to my tent. It was all simple stuff, so my pay from last night should more than cover a new tent and ropes. I remain awfully glad I trusted the Guild safe-box on keeping most of my big cash. Big is relative, but whatever.
After that though, I did give a short little report for the higher-ups. They can decide if this was an isolated case or if this gang might try to move on anyone else and deserve a warning.
And last, I asked about anyone offering tutoring in a weapon. I'll never wield my cousin's warhammer, and I can't use anything too heavy to fly with, but clearly I can't rely on just my natural pointy bits.

[Vegna]

LordDeathkeeper/Roran

The old man's stall has been long packed away and its owner seems to have headed home. The only evidence of last night's events are the remains of a broken crate and your scorched tent. The rain sheet was reduced to burnt scraps, but a return upstairs fortunately shows that nothing else was stolen from your roof-top quarters. The harpy did still make an unfortunate mess of the place, but it was only a petty move and easily remedied.

The attendant, a disinterested elf, half-heartedly records your report to pass on the Guild Master, his quill lazily dragging across the ledger of guild member complaints. When pressed about whether this was a recurring issue, he groans dissatisfied as he is forced to look over the ledger again. The harpies are a known gang in the area, but this is the first time they've attacked a guild member in some time. They prefer to target precious gems and other high value/low weight objects, whilst the Lords of the city rarely choose the guild as a means of transporting expensive or sensitive materials, due to the guild's rule of never taking a job without knowing what's inside. After too many messengers had been used as bombers for Lordly politics, it was a necessary decision to lose some business in exchange for safety.

There are few warrior types in the guild, wiry and fast being a stereotypical member's build, however some of messengers to rougher regions of the city and beyond are known to have to fight their way out of bad jobs. Currently enjoying a morning ale is Galmann, an boisterous orc who is something of a small celebrity within the guild since he wrestled a troll who refused to pay a three hundred gold coin bill. He's a good grappler and he always carries a wide battle-axe on his back, though no one has seen him use it before. Another resident fighter was Timon, who wasn't so much a messenger, but a spear-wielding mercenary who many of the guild members offered cuts for protection during a delivery. He mostly hangs around outside the building, acting as a impromptu guard at the main door, though right now he's enjoying a puff of his oak pipe indoors. The only other warrior who isn't on a job is Izzy, a gnome-ish blooded woman with a collection of daggers that seemed impossible to carry on her diminutive frame. She apparently came to Bardocas to become an assassin, but due to that guild's only rumoured whereabouts, she has been working in the Messengers Guild for 'recon and practice'. She is currently playing Five Finger Fillet with a pair of new members, their hands already wet with thin cuts, as they gamble away their first earned coins to a professional.


Kaynebot /Thagrosh

The Demon's eyes turn away from the invisible force in response to your taunt, its torn face twisting into an ugly snarl, but despite any desire to claim your gem a second time, it simply follows your exit. The presence moves with you both, but appears satisfied with the Demon leaving the scene, causing no more sudden attacks for whatever reason. As your nemesis makes contact with the soil outside again, it begins to slip back into the earth, the ground forming a sink-hole around its body. It watches you with a look of utter hatred as he retreats under the dirt, leaving nothing but a shallow dip in the otherwise flat estate grounds. You were now alone in the estate's ground, not including the unseen beings inside your head and above it, the guards having fled to protect their Lord as a final effort.

“He has fled, for now. He will not return, as long as the being is still here. I am certain he will continue to attempt to heal before making another attempt to acquire me. Considering your last encounter, it is unlikely he will allow you to survive a second battle after you have managed to disrupt his plans.”

The new voice in your head lists off its estimations in a rather monotone manner, seemly uncaring about any actually results, only offering recommendations and help as if it were a disinterested mercenary. The thing in the air was an entirely different matter, darting around you with an almost threatening level of energy. An alien instinct disliked its presence, but fear is some you are pathological incapable of, and so whilst your marble skin might chill as it grew closer, you still have full control over yourself. Another whistle fills the air, as a voice like a thousand resonant hums speaks in elation,

“Look at that teamwork! I hit high, and you, well, stand there and give that serious look. Yes, that one. That's the one. Must've sent that fella running, no mistake. I nearly thought he was going to try and kill you anyway, but what do you know, once he's had a taste of my middle hook. Well, lets say he won't be hanging around our area of forested overgrowth any time soon. Looks like a win all round to me, but save your thanks. Or you can thank me, nothing major, just a couple of hurrahing cheers or gratitude in the form of a song.”

It hurts your ears slightly as the air talks at you. It seems pleased, whatever it is, and apparently responsible for throwing you and the demon across the building at high speed. An act that could've killed you, but more importantly, gave you the chance to grab the gem. It seems to still be talking despite your lack of response, perhaps it wouldn't even notice if you just left to demand medical attention or fight Kru'Bask, though its unseen eyes might still be watching you.

Raunchel/Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

“A measured decision, and you are right to assume that many of them could be charlatans. But what of the nature of your own existence? Does it not strike you as some what miraculous to live within death, fuelled by such a non-magical substance as ordinary blood? Occasionally, a mage may stumble onto a profane method to extend their life, but even then, such efforts take time, research and resources to create a single transformation. We multiply at our own will and speed, with powers of our own that are as innate as a hydra's regeneration, instead of any spell.”

He licks the remaining red traces from his mouth, before leaning against the armrest. You can feel his eyes, watching your responses as he continues to share his own godly knowledge.

“A first vampire must have certainly existed at one point, I am sure you have fathomed. The Progenitor, The Sireless, an immaculate vampire. Even in the ages I have spent on this ocean, I have heard little clear fact over the creator of our species. What I have learnt of their origin is only my own theories, but I am unlikely to find the true story without asking The Progenitor in person.

A soul once feared Death. Not merely dying, but the being who delivered it. Death was the true owner of every soul in existence, because as Death is a part of life, so too was every life a part of the fabric of Death. The soul tried to find mages that could save them from Death, but the mages' hearts and minds were wretched, having long lost their selves to soulessness. The soul then prayed to the gods of the skies, the waters and the earth, but as strong as they were, they too feared Death as they were also a part of its essence. When Death finally came for the soul, it begged and pleaded, swearing anything if Death would not take it. And for a single purpose, Death loosed it hold over the soul. It gave them a body that was touched Death's power, to complete his purpose and bring supporters to the soul's cause, in exchange from a protection from Death. But the life-giving sun would reject the body, and so instead the soul would need to drink the life from those still alive, to hold back Death's grasp that lingers ever so lightly over our souls.

And that is all I know. The Progenitor's purpose has apparently been ignored by many sires, who have enjoyed their gifts and spread our kind across the Archipelago. As for the first vampire themselves? A brethren of the southern isles told me that The Progenitor was still alive, having met them only a century ago and as only more potent for his age. Another said that 'she' had met her fate against the sun long ago, less than a husk before thrown into the sun, her power having faded from her millennia of unlife. Her ashes poisoned the island, and it has been barren ever since.”

His tale finished, he takes another drink from the limp body. Content to enjoy an uneventful feed, he doesn't appear as much hoping for you to believe him, as much as he savored the chance to tell it. Whether or not, he still seems pleased with himself, sighing satisfied with his first gift of lore. It could be complete hog-wash, but you have little else on vampiric lore to go on. It would probably take time for him to give something more practical to learn, he seems happy to start at the beginning in the most literal sense.

GuyFawkes/Levi T. Pendegraph

Madam Paub has not returned to join the party since leaving for her meeting, but the mingling crowd still remains a sizable number. Victor Haslong, the boisterous mercenary leader appears to be entertains a small crowd of his own, as he recounts the tale of some battle with Eyeless Jack's pirates. He appears to be waving around a studded golden goblet, an auction tag still affixed to its base as he nearly spills his generous portion of wine it already holds.

“. . . trying swinging with an extra twenty pounds of pirate and you'll guess how long it took me to put another two hundred pounds of captain on mine. Ha har! But it looked like the elemental was going for our gunpowder, and you can imagine how many pieces of me and the crew would be left if we let him at it. So, I grab the sail in one hand, with the first mate holding the other and we. . .”

Attracting less somewhat less attention is a young man and woman, talking to a pair of elderly couples, their parents most likely. The mothers are crying with joy, as the father's shake the young gentleman's hand and call over for drinks. Apparently an engagement has just taken place, and a happy one at that, as the sizable stone sitting on the young lady's finger shines iridescently. A sun stone, quite uncommon in these waters and especially in that size.

A middle-aged man, who is apparently the new favourite of Cassandra and her friend, currently enjoying their company between drinks of whiskey. A pair of auction receipts jut from his breast pocket, but whatever he purchased seems to have been too large for him carry around casually. Cassandra is holding Twelve-finger Tandy's blade very closely, but has at least decided to place it in its scabbard to avoid causing any unwanted trouble.

A trio of men standing somewhat separate from the party remain the only other obvious auction winners, as they each hold a receipt between in their hands as they discuss. A pair of imposing bodyguard types stand just a few feet from the three men, acting as a currently effective deterrent from any other persons. Otherwise, the attendants remain helpful as always, the auctioneer himself enjoying a discussion with an elderly woman beside the main door.

[Raunchel]

Serdynage Hastur-Vartul
That is a peculiar story, it could be true, but I cannot know that. Of course, my conditions is strange, ordinary magic would find it exceedingly hard to achieve this. But there is something, something in my blood. It is my belief that this is a magical substance that requires blood to sustain itself. I have wondered about where this would have started, this mystical, blood-bound force that drives me. I used to think that it must have been a potent magician on some far-away island, who mixed immensely powerful magic with certain local substances. That might have achieved the task.

But grandfather seems to give value to this story. When first hearing it it sounds useless, but everything can be useful. There must have been an origin, and this would have been an individual of tremendous power and ability. A being that would certainly be interesting, if only to find the source of its power. There is no such thing as too much of that. That has always been the lesson of my childhood, whispered to me before I went to sleep. Of course, this would never be said in public. There I am only driven by virtue and the desire to help others. People know that this is a lie, but it is a comfortable one for all involved parties. I erect public works and finance several colonies for the poor, and in return, there are no revolts.

Grandfather speaks about death as though it is an actual being. That is strange, and there must be a reason for it. I don’t like to simply declare him crazy, he might be, but there is no reason to disregard what he says. He is my only source on such matters. However, I shouldn’t trust him, only a few hours ago he expressed his desire to hurt those closest to me. But he is weak, I know that now. He finds it hard to feed, he lacks servants, he lacks power. Or maybe it all is an act. I should not be making simple assumptions. I have to know more, but asking directly would make me seem overly eager, and I want to avoid that.

“I have been wondering about this myself, but of course, directly asking the men of learning I maintain is impossible. But I did learn that there is something in blood, they say that it contains part of the soul, which controls the body through the blood, flowing out from its home, the heart. I of course am not sure of this, but it is possible. Take a part of the blood and you take the strength from someone. And I have been told that many rites and magics rely on this power. But there indeed has to have been an origin, a first being that could take this essence and use it to fuel its own eternity. But none of those in my employ ever mentioned any being similar to what we are. This has led me to believe that we are either rare, or hard to detect.”

[Kaynebot]

Thagrosh let a silent sigh of relief as the Demon disappeared. He hated himself for the feeling but Thagrosh knew he couldn't have given the Demon a true fight. Even so he had to defend himself to the gem, the first fight I was caught of guard! The 'thing' won't catch us again. Thagrosh didn't dwell on it though, feeling the entity fly around, Thagrosh silently listened, wondering if he worked for the Lord or if not, what exactly he was doing. "If I were one of those pathetic bards I might have given you a song of praise," He smirked at the comment, slowly turning around trying to follow it, "So are you a lackey for Kylona household or....cause if so I'd say a sad waste of talent. Enough to bruise that damned Demon, that is respectable." Thagrosh was just talking still unsure what to do about the entity. "If you don't mind I think I'll say hi to the Kylona family, see what they can do about this foot" Thagrosh starts as if to walk deeper into the estate, tightening his grip on Rapture just in case.

[GuyFawkes]

Levi T. Pendegraph

"Excuse me, sir. I would like to congratulate you for a very successful auction," Kravitz cut in on the conversation between the auctioneer and the elderly lady, grabbing the man's hand inside her own and shaking them, her face and the tone of her voice a tad more lively than usual. She looked the other way, gave the elderly lady an appraising look before beaming a smile, giving a bow and going back to the auctioneer.

"I must say, you had quite the lineup tonight, your selection of rare goods and artifacts. Say for example that leviathan blood. That fetched quite a sum. And that's not to include the amazing cast you've managed to collect here earlier. Pirates and nobles alike. Impressive to say the least."

"I'm curious though, in your opinion, who got to be the luckiest lady or gentleman tonight"

Meanwhile, at perhaps the most lively part of the room, Levi had slowly slunk his way through the crowd surrounding the pirate Victor Haslong. He waited and listened to the man's stories and as he found an opening, he cut in.

"Bravo! As expected of the infamous Victor Haslong! Your fame has reached even the smallest of villages, and to be here in front of you, I can say the real thing is much, much bigger than the, shall I say myths? about you," Levi said after a slow clap.

"But I am curious. Do tell us more about your exploits against that Eyeless Jack. No man or beast that I have known has ever survived going against that monster. Well, no one but you. I am sure the rest of us are interested to hear about that in detail, yes?" he looked to the crowd for support.

[Vegna]

Kaynebot /Thagrosh

“Lackey, me? Hahahaha! No, they couldn't offer me enough to stay here, stagnant and dull, this rock is. And I'm respectable, am I? Not exactly high praise, but your face is looking more cheerful, so I'll take that as the best I'll be getting. Feel free to visit the house, but I personally think the stone suits you. Adds a touch of earthly charm to your appearance. Better than off-marble at any rate.”

“The Lord will be most likely to know about any remedy. She will be heavily guarded, but they will only be men, they would not hide behind wards and be required to inform the entire security of the methods to evade the spells. It would be a potential risk to security.”

Limping towards the front door of the Kylona manor, your first push of the front door is met with resistance. The door feels braced as the sound of rattling armour echoes from the other side, the guards probably reading to repel the Demon if it attempted to break through. A voice clears itself above you, drawing your attention. A dark-skinned woman, dressed in a shimmering collection of green robes stands at the edge of the roof, a golden staff grasped her hand with a pair of crossbow wielding guards at her sides.

“Warrior. I appreciate your efforts in repelling the invader, but if you are expecting a reward then my thanks are removed. Your leg is obviously the result of one of my property's wards and the gem within your hand is all too similar to one of my exhibits. I have no cure for your leg and no coin for thieves. Remove the gem and perhaps I will not have you charged with burglary, else you have a minute to exit my grounds before my gratitude is completely used up.”

What little chance the guards had to fight you is now practically zero, unless the Lord has any more magical tricks up her sleeve. However, deciding to fight a Lord of Bardocas could make returning to the city extremely difficult in future, perhaps at best creating a repeat of the events at your home village. But you have what you came for and you may have no more need to visit this island again, in which case this high and mighty collector may be lying about her ignorance, Marius being your simplest back-up option.

Raunchel/Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

“Considering our nature, you are most likely correct in both regards. Turning others into our kind is simple enough, but too many can unsettle the mortals as more go missing than they are comfortable with. Also, our abilities can be quite useful in hiding or evading others, as I demonstrated last night. Unfortunately that has also left us with few natural allies, fewer we can trust as well as you your attendants.”

He gestures towards Yildiz, before rising from his seat, taking a tour of the meeting room. He paces slowly, admiring the details of the wood carvings, passing the hidden exits with no change of step. You may have little idea of how long he had controlled Lucinda's body, but your secret passages haven't been utilized in your entire reign as Lord, your burning ace remains safe from his eyes.

“Our own kind spend so much time masking our nature that you can only find the ones that are either inexperienced or desperate. I could count on my fingers how many vampires I have knowingly met or spoken to, including my own familiar line. It is disappointing to be able to know so little, but I have time to improve on that. I have subsumed all the knowledge I could on the Progenitor, hearsay or legend but I am interested in your own research's results also, perhaps their knowledge to aid in shedding some light that I could not. Did they share anything else with you?”

Grandfather runs his hands over the carvings, very comfortable in the room, whilst Yildiz seems to only just disguising her unease. She hasn't been able to even fake appearing relaxed since Grandfather appeared, his time spent pretending to be her lover be an obvious reason for her disconcerted behaviour. He on the other hand, seems unfazed by her presence, apparently as disconnected from the experience as an actor from a completed performance.

“It is a matter than I had long been investigating, before the . . events that brought me here. First though, I am sure you would wish to learn more of our capabilities and powers, aside from the obvious improvements to strength and endurance. Perhaps I will be able to return to my searches after, or even you might be interested in learning more alongside me. As long as nothing happens to me afterwards.”

He hums a chuckle as he continues to admire the artistry, his back still turned to you almost daring you to prove that you've been waiting to attack him.

GuyFawkes/Levi T. Pendegraph

Not missing a beat, the auctioneer returns the smile and vigorous energy. He put on an air of gratitude, almost gently the entire room as he gladly speaks to Kravitz,

“Ha ha, well of course, its the poor citizens of the impoverished waters that are the luckiest winners, thanks to the very generous biddings of our fine customers and the Marines' donating that blood to us. Truly remarkable the charitable nature of these successful ladies and gentlemen, ah ha ha. But if you mean whoever made the best purchase, young lady, I would need to say that my favourite lot was the Urielian puzzle crate purchased by Mr Beach over there. With the two young ladies, yes, the ones with Tandy's sword. Beautiful piece of woodwork, that box. At least three centuries and so well preserved without a touch of magic, which of course make it more valuable for the effort and skill that was placed into it. ”

Victor grins widely at your complements, already enjoying the attention of the crowd and with his avid listeners already interested in his tales, he takes another slurp from his cup before wrapping one thick arm around your shoulder to bring you closer into the story's fold. His gravely voice is no longer giddy however, as he with less drama and more emphasis.

“Eyeless Jack. You've heard the stories of him, lad. A pair of glowing orbs for eyes. A ship that sails without a crew, only its captain. Well, I've only had the fortunate pleasure to meet the man in combat once, and by the mouth, he was the toughest bastard I ever met and an adversary I'd gladly eet, I mean, meet again. Firstly, his vessel, Land's End had a crew, about two hundred of the most black-hearted, cut-throat brigands I'd ever seen. I mean, his pirates are an evil lot, but that crew was as rotten as goblin meat. When Land's End met my fleet, the blackguards practically killed each other for the chance to join the fray, hungry for it like dogs, not men. Her guns fired through Jack's own ships and still struck my men through the hulls, killing man and pirate alike for the fight. And through my eyeglass, I saw a man who moved across the ship like any other, hauling cannon shot and grappling to board when they came about my boys' galleon. Except his eyes weren't there, no, someone had gutted out that man's eyeballs and filled them with a cold flame that burnt in the crisp air.”

He chuckled slightly, easing some of the tension of the crowd. Despite his emphasis on the story, bravado and drink seem to have robbed him of quite a bit of sense, he regales the rest almost matter of factly.

“Course, out-gunned by his ship and the strength of the hull, we couldn't take Jack's ship and most of us made it made it back to safer waters, losing him over a reef. Jack may be a blackguard and maybe even a monster, but next time he best be wary of Captain Victor Haslong. My wave will batter him down to dust!”

[Raunchel]

Serdynage Hastur-Vartul
He knows that I intend to dispose of him, when he has no more use to me. Or at least, he has his suspicions. He is no complete fool. That is both good and bad. If he were an ignoramus he wouldn’t be able to tell me much, but now he is more dangerous. But not as dangerous as he thinks he is. He still betrays his feelings towards me. I hear him walking slowly. When my life ended I experienced an expansion of the senses. Their abilities increased greatly. I can only assume that his sense of sight will be vastly better than that of normal humans. He will know that there are secret passages, and he knows their entrances. The wood will not be able to resist him, when it comes to it. Nevertheless, he will not escape the fire of my wrath, should I choose to unleash it. Yildiz will see to that. She wants to do it, I know it. She has never been a forgiving girl. The danger however is in our own escape, and I would probably lose this palace. It would require a lot of explanation.

No, I will remain peaceful, Grandfather remains a source of information, and that is what I need for now. There are no other wellsprings of wisdom in this regard, my sages so far have been utterly useless. In most situations they serve well, but I require more servants who are versed in the mystical. But then again, if they know of such matters, they might find my secrets.

“I assume then that I am one of those who are easy to locate. I fear that there might already be rumors, and soon I shall be forced to act against them. In my position it is hard to remain away from the public for long. And I count myself lucky to be surrounded by such fine young ladies. My scholars however are only of little use in this regard, although I have not yet found an opportunity to ask them directly, and it might be possible to extend my patronage to others as well. Employing sages is one of those things that is expected of me, although I generally attempt to avoid any connections to the esoteric.”

He keeps pacing, seeking out flaws and weaknesses. The next meeting should be arranged in another room, that should complicate his plans to betray me. He will do so, I am sure of that. Once cannot survive for centuries as he probably has without being treacherous. Honesty’s only reward is to be betrayed.

“There still is so much to learn, and your wisdom is more than welcome here. My wish is to learn from you, grandfather, and no harm will come to you. I could make all sorts of lofty promises, but such promises tend to offer little assurance, words are broken all too often. But I try to be a rational person. And as such it is not in my interest to harm you. The gains of removing someone must be weighed against the cost of doing so. Your destruction would offer little in the way of advantage, but the cost would be great. Not only is there still so very much to learn, but allies are always helpful, and a failed attempt would not only cost an ally, but also bring an enemy. Therefore, I can guarantee that you will not be harmed. ”

[Kaynebot]

I'll trust your knowledge, but things are going to get....rough and fun if she doesn't have it Thagrosh glared at the Lord, "Ha! I have no want for your gratitude only your assistance in healing this damned foot. You had the ward placed there, you have the remedy. You better hope so for your own sake. What you see in my hand has long been mine and I'll thank you for holding onto it while I sought it out. Now! Enough talk. You have ten seconds before I go through those doors" Thagrosh points Rapture at the doors before taking a few steps back.

"We don't need any trouble miss, I can be agreeable, all I need is a little assistance." Thagrosh grinned before mentally starting the countdown from ten. Hey, what's up with the Demon? Does he someone like you making him stronger or did he just come straight from hell? Thagrosh asked the question while making sure he was far enough away, he settled into a charging stance, making sure the stone foot would be good enough to at least limp hard enough into the door. He imagined with his bulk that he shouldn't need too much speed and this was pretty much for aesthetics. As he got closer to one, Thagrosh eyed the women. Thagrosh wasn't going to play any games, he wasn't scared of her, the city guards, or whatever pathetic magic(if any) they had hiding behind the door. Then again he couldn't be afraid even if he wanted to.

[GuyFawkes]

Levi T. Pendegraph

"Aye!" Levi shouted vigorously in response as soon as Haslong finished. He then grabbed the goblet of the man standing close enough to him and raised it.

"Let us drink to that fateful day when the whole world over shall bear witness to Eyeless Jack's demise under the hands of none other than Victor Haslong!" he said before clanking his goblet against Haslong's and drinking the rest of the content in one gulp.

"Now then, it has been an honor to have been graced of your time, sir. As such, I would not want to keep you for myself any longer. Your audience might not look too kindly at me if I do. Ha ha ha ha!" Levi laughed heartily as he took the large arm wrapped around his shoulder, clenched the hand attached at its end, and shook it, before making his way through the crowd once more.

As he walked around wondering what to do next, he could not help but recall the pirate's words about his encounter with Eyeless Jack. To think that someone like Victor Haslong and his scary bunch of a crew were sent back whimpering with their tails between their legs said it all when it came to dealing with that man. Was he even still human? Or was he even a human to begin with?

Levi shook his head and smiled. It was uncharacteristic of him to worry about things to come. Right now he had other problems.

"Well if it isn't my dear Camelia!" he greeted Cassandra with a kiss to the cheek. "I see you're still here. Enjoying the party, I see. Did you miss me? Oh, and I see you like my present, eh? Looks lovely with your dress. I like it!" he exclaimed as his right hand wandered over her back, ending over her more than ample buttocks and giving it a squeeze. He then turned to the man the two girls were conversing with, feigning ignorance of the man's presence until now.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry for cutting in. These girls are dear to me, and I forgot my manners as I saw them. Levi T. Pendegraph, but a humble peddler of aquatic goods and a collector. May I have the honor of knowing your name, good sir?"

"But of course. That is why my master had made sure to attend this auction, for the mere thought that the less fortunate people of this city were the most to benefit from this, truly it was gold well spent."

Kravits turned around again at the man with Cassandra after deciding to talk to him but as she did, she saw Levi was already there. Turning back to the auctioneer, then to the woman beside him, she smiled.

"How about you, madame? You look like you acquired your fair share of the collectibles on display earlier."

[Vegna]

Kaynebot /Thagrosh

“Only a fool would wish death upon themselves, Warrior, but if that is all you seek then my guards will gladly give it to you, at the tip of their blades. Monsters and fools receive no second chances. Men! Remove the intruder from my sight, but be sure to leave the gem inside his hand undamaged.”

The Lord raises her gilded staff, summoning some form of energy around its head, as the crossbowmen ready to fire at the first sign of your attack. They seem worried by your similarity to the demon, but orders are always orders and the roof provides three stories of distance between them and you. The monotonous voice is unfazed by the growing danger, unlike its previous counterpart you originally met who was worried over a simple rock climb.

“I would estimate a multitude of 'voices' would exist within the entity you refer to as 'demon'. His physiology has been extremely mutated by the presence of multiple materials similar to myself, each one increasing his power, though I would hazard that the increasing personalities within his mind would have detrimental effects to his psyche. You may want to open with a wide swing to disperse the crowded guards.”

Lord Kylona's guards fire their bolts as you charge the front door, one missing you by a yard, the other bouncing off of your shoulder with no more injury than a dull thud. The front door buckles under your assault, breaking inward towards the marble floor of the Lord's home. The foyer is about as large as Marius' entire building, decorated with several generations of hereditary paintings and ornamental armour. About twenty guards stand between you and the only visible stair case upward, their eyes worried at a possible repeat of the invasion scarce minutes ago. But in their sweat soaked armour and unsteady spears and axes in hand, they charge towards you as one clattering mob.

Raunchel/Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

“As long as the scales weigh in my favour, I will believe in that promise. But neither of us are fools, Lord Hastur-Vartul, and I will hold that trust at arms length as I'm sure you hold your trust in me. You understand that you have your own continued value weighed against the satisfaction that I did not claim last night. I was surprised by your offer, and perhaps softened by the chance of a true pupil of my own line, but it was a choice that will not happen again if moods turn sour. Perhaps one night, you may see me as a figure of respect, but this relationship is built upon little more than mutual assured destruction as its alternative. Still, until that time I hope to enjoy your company, perhaps to try and avoid such an ending to our relationship.”

He takes a last drink from the body, before gathering himself and making his way back towards the window he soundlessly entered. He appears slightly more jovial for all this conversation between you both, however brief. You do notice he leaves the question of your discovery unanswered, perhaps to conceal his own skills or to leave the flaw in your social disguise unfixed.

“But for now, I believe our conversation has reached its end, Lord Hastur-Vartul. Whilst I intend to share my knowledge with you, to give too much too soon would be reckless. My tale of Death will be adequate for now, something for you to ruminate on until our next talk. Shall we say in a weeks time, the same hour, this same room?”

Whatever your decision of location, he agrees and with only a faint rustle of your curtains, his presence leaves the room once more. Yildiz relaxes again, now that the intruding vampire is beyond her vision. She's almost disappointed at the lost opportunity to hurt the being, but as always in your inner circle, it is duty before emotion. You would be rid of your vampiric grandfather for a time, perhaps enough to ready yourself further for his eradication or simply to focus your energies on more economic or social matters.

(At this point, you can either summarise Serdy's week until her next meeting with Grandfather, or you can obviously focus on some other important task she wants completed during the time.)

GuyFawkes/Levi T. Pendegraph

“Its very beautiful and very sharp, Mr Pendegraph. Mr Beach is going to give me and Louise some sword lessons later, so we can protect ourselves from dangerous men like you.”

Cassandra shoots you a wink and a playful slap, as she pushes you away with the sheathed blade, Louise also giving you a brief wave though with less energy, slightly bittered by her lack of a gift. The gentleman between her and Louise looks a little flustered by all the attention he's been receiving, wiping his brow with an wrinkled handkerchief.

“Um, yes. All is forgiven in such ladies company. Ahem, Mortimor Beach, of Beach and Crag's Sands. Its a sort of mining firm, black sand is a passable alternative to iron in some parts, but it also can contain precious gems too, if you can filter it to be worth the time. Sorry, I won't bore you with the details, its just so terribly warm in here. Pendegraph. . Pendegraph, I think I've heard your name before. Tell me, did I hire you to ship some sand to the outer edges?”

Your memory being what it is, that could be true and you could have sold the lot of it for a pretty face. But his mind is as bad as yours at remembering what happened, and his arm candy seems to have him reasonable distracted from thinking too hard.

“Oh no dear, I have been selling, not buying. When my dear Lawrence passed, I thought a clear out was finally in order. He spent so much time collecting those trinkets, but all they did is gather dust and debt. Glad to be rid of the things, when I pass on, the kids would only just start fighting over what was of equal worth between them anyway. Gold is nice and dividable like that. No fuss.”

[Raunchel]

Serdynage Hastur-Vartul
A week later I am again seated in the same room. Yildiz served me well the last time and now she stands by my side again. Immediately after grandfather left I talked to her. She was upset over him, but I managed to convince her to bide her time. For now we can’t truly harm him, not without extraordinary danger and expense. She understands, and actually is curious about the abilities of my kind, that one day may be hers. The girls have spoken amongst themselves, and now they all know of my plans in that regard. I have given them explanations about why I am not yet doing that, and especially Xanthe was glad when I promised her that I would not force anything upon her. She is till so very young. She is worried about her appearance. To so many people it is so very important, but it is so terribly difficult. Just like for music there are many different tastes, an even greater diversity exists for appearances. She will grow over it, I hope.

After speaking to them I went back to my ordinary tasks. There are so many things that have to be done, so many documents to be signed. And of course all those meetings. They usually are short, many find it uncomfortable to have prolonged conversations with me. Of course, no one ever says this directly to me, but someone in my position must maintain at least a few spies. And I have more than a few in my pay. They mostly keep me informed of the designs of my fellow lords and of course, of all the dealings that are going on in the city and beyond. It is a great expense, but so far it has always been worth it. Some of my rivals disagree, but then again, many lords don’t manage the fortunes they have inherited as closely as I do. Of course, even I don’t know all the details, but I live in a constant stream of information. It helps that I have an affinity for numbers, unlike those who try to embezzle my possessions. Just four days ago one of my captain’s books were incorrect. After mild questioning by some of my people he confessed and his possessions were seized for me, and he along with his family were sent to Atobag to work off their debts on the fields. Of course, I did overstate the embezzled sums so they will be there forever, as will their further descendents. Others might have settled for killing him, but I don’t like killing. Unless they know things of course, dead man cannot speak. However, they also cannot be worked to death anymore.

Sometimes I have been called greedy. I of course disagree with them. I have no particular desire for wealth. I prefer power, there will come a time that I so thoroughly control the city and the whole archipelago that I will become impossible to attack. But power does not mean armies, or great spells. No, power is much simpler. It is influence. Or rather, the ability to push every person you want to do what you want. And wealth is a secure way to gain that influence, just like knowledge is. Soon I will increase my attendance to meetings. I have become convinced that it will be a necessity, especially when my other plans become public.

I have spoken to my architects, and they assure me that the plan for a wall connecting my two palaces should be possible. It will have a length of a third of a mile, fifteen feet wide and double as high. In the bottom level there will be a series of gates, so it will not interrupt traffic, and of course, in the base of these gates there will be shops, which will bring some additional income. On top of the whole structure there will be a gallery, wide enough for two carriages to pass each other. Of course, this will be fully enclosed. There will also be a small secret corridor, completely hidden inside the construction. This secret corridor will be connected to my private chambers in both residences. My people are already purchasing the properties on its course, occasionally using a little force to get what I want. It is not only convenience why I fund such a construction, but also security. I will be free of attackers when travelling between my homes, and if someone attacks me here, I can make my escape to my other house, free of attacks. The Vartul palace will be converted into a true fortress, sacrificing my family’s gardens for thick walls and storage. The Hastur palace, which always was the grander of the two, shall be where I conduct most of my business. Of course, most of my collection of art will also be brought to this place, to display to any visitors I may have.

I also had several interesting visitors this week. One of them was a representative from the queen of Wodar. She wanted me to lend her gold for a war against her sister, who incidentally also is the queen of Wodar. Both control half of those islands, and are claiming that the other is a pretender. The succession there is complicated, as they are identical twins and it isn’t certain who was born first. Of course, both claim to be older. Anyways, one of them is gathering her forces to expel her sister. But war is expensive, and she desperately needs funds. And when people need gold, they come to me. There are plenty of monarchs who would borrow money, and then simply don’t repay. I attempt to avoid that. Fortunately, she was aware of that fact and sent me her daughter and heiress, asking me to provide her with an education. That is the kind of security that I like in situations such as this, she must have made inquiries about me then, that is good, then she is intelligent enough to stand a chance in a war. Naturally I accepted, the agreement is for three million ducats, and will be paid back in twelve annual installments of four hundred thousand. Added to that, I will be named baroness of Vadem and will be given that small island. It might only contain a small fishing village, but titles always look good, and such an island can be reworked into a trading post. The only troubling part of all this is that it is easily possible to lose such a civil war, and negotiations with my client’s sister might prove to be difficult. But such things can be arranged. These funds will hire a strong force, and after the gold is delivered, I will send some people there.

The girl has taken up residence in this very house, she might be a hostage and a prisoner, but she remains a princess, and a future ally. I will not sour those relationships. I have arranged for several reputed tutors, and have dined with her on her arrival. She seems confused about the status of my girls, calling them “your ladyship”. When Ophelia asked them about it, she said that she assumed that they were important nobles because of their dresses and how close they are to me. She refused to believe Ophelia when she said that she was a poor orphan from the city, telling her that a poor orphan can’t live in chambers which are more luxurious than those of a queen. When I was told of this I of course thought about it. Perhaps I should arrange titles for them, also to increase the respect ignorant visitors give them. And of course, if I pass away they will be my heirs.

The other peculiarity was the visit of an artist, to sit for my state portrait. I held it off for several years, but the time had come. Yildiz liked it, and that is how I judge such matters. She does after all manage my collection and the artists under my patronage. The artist, one Menander, is reputed to be the greatest of this age, and he will be working on it for some time in the future. Then copies will be made, so my portrait can spread through the archipelago. One of the works considered to be his best is also in this house, Yildiz arranged it, of course, and asked me for it to be made as a gift. I was told that it shows the two of them reposing in the gardens of one of my summer residences. And because it is a gift to her, it is in the rooms that she shares with Lucinda.

And now I sit here again. For this meeting I don’t wear a veil, and my dress is simple, blue with golden embroidery and a wide ruff tipped with pearls. My hair is covered by a net of gold, each intersection marked with a diamond. As always I wear white gloves of the finest silk, and my signet ring, depicting the combined Hastur and Vartul marks. Yildiz wears dark green with gold, with one of the wide-topped skirts that are in fashion according to her. She enjoys dressing like that, she still has vague memories of when she wore only rags.

It is the time now, and I can feel my girl trying to hide that she isn’t at ease. She however is more successful than the last time.

[Kaynebot]

Thagrosh loves the new power. And as the guards charge him, instead of roaring he just smiles, knowing this was going to be a bloody couple of minutes before he found the Lord. Taking Rapture in one hand he held the handle lower to make the blade edge extend longer. Waiting till the last second, Thagrosh opened his stance wide and swung Rapture horizontally in a large sweep. Thagrosh saw the eyes of the frontline soldiers widen in fear of what was coming. The far right soldier jumped against the wall, Rapture carved straight through the armor but luckily for him it only caught him on the side. The rest tried to stop but they had already had momentum, Rapture slew a half dozen cutting through weapons, arms, and metal plates all the same. Nothing could stop the momentum of Thagrosh's fury or Rapture's wicked keenness. Some managed to duck the blade or stopped short enough not to get hit by it. Still the Gem's tactic had worked, it broke their ranks and uniformity. Thagrosh capitalized, keeping the momentum by spinning the blade around when it reached the end of the arc, he stepped forward with his good leg, into a lung. Killing on man instantly, the blade had no regard for flesh, metal, or bone. Withdrawing, he flipped the blade overhand. Rapture hit the guards weapon, smashing through the steel and embedding into his shoulder. He screamed in pain, Thagrosh threw a left punch putting him out of his misery before he felt a sharp pain in his side. Someone had recouped enough to try and spear him in the side, the blade breaking on his stone flesh. He felt that it had barely scratched the surface, just enough to draw blood. He smiled knowing the battle was just beginning, wrenching Rapture out of the dead man's shoulder he struck towards the attacker in a wide arc that scared a few men who were just about to rush Thagrosh. This wide arc let the man backstep far enough just to survive.

Thagrosh let the man go, instead charging the mass of to his side, limping there, he still made it faster than they expected. Thagrosh was furious, and the next thirty seconds were bloody murder. Thagrosh used a lot of effort just for the fun of it. During those thirty seconds, Rapture was not still at anyone time. Striking, slashing, backslash, parry, always always moving. The guards fought valiantly but Thagrosh was too far gone to appreciate it. All the time he was searching for the gem was pure agony not having such wonderful, blissful power. And now that he had it back, he couldn't control it. Thagrosh pushed himself harder and faster, the only thing slowing him down was his foot and and the back of his mind that was keeping him in just enough check that he didn't over exhaust himself. Each of Thagrosh's moves led to a dead body falling. The marble floor became slick with blood and Thagrosh was covered it in. Ironically the surface of Rapture and the speed with which Thagrosh was wielding meant that it was clean and shining. Thagrosh killed over a dozen guards in those thirty seconds. And at the end of it, he had a few scratches here and there, most of the weapons had done nothing against him. A few of the strikes had managed to leave faint scratches. The blood welled up in those spots like highlighting against his pale skin.

At the end, Thagrosh was standing in the middle of a circle of bodies, laying broken and bloody around him. His breathing was calming down, and as Thagrosh stood regaining his mind, he realized he had forgotten the guard who had been injured at the entrance and one who had actually wounded him. At that moment, he felt a piercing pain, lancing through his back between his spine and shoulder blades. Thagrosh twisted fast enough that he broke the spear embedded in his back, swinging Rapture out he behead the first guy. It was then he noticed how the two had actually pierced his toughened hide. They had both held the spear and combined strength had done the trick. The second guard seeing his friend beheaded went to scramble away but Thagrosh was faster, he took and hefted Rapture up and threw it like a javelin. Piercing the man through the back and threw him into the wall. Thagrosh limped over the spear tip in his back and the stone boot. The men was pinned face first into the wall, the way Rapture was shaped meant the man's wound was sealed for the moment and still breathed in life. Thagrosh was angry wincing pulling his hand and smashing the small man's head into the wall. Wiped the blood off on the dead man's armour, he retrieved Rapture. Well I did it, but I should have been more careful, Thagrosh was angry at himself for that mistake, feeling a twinge of defeat in front of the full presence of the Gem. Thagrosh walked towards the steps clearing his mind waiting for a trap or whichever. One train of thought continued Would there be a way to deal with that many voices...could they be compartmentalized?

[GuyFawkes]

Levi T. Pendegraph

Levi cocked his head a bit, looking at the gentleman and straining the limits of his memory. Not that he expected nor cared much. Whether they had previous dealings or not, this was another opportunity for business.

"Ah! Yes! Sir Mortimer Beach! But of course, but of course! A pleasure to have met you! And here of all places!" he exclaimed, grabbing the man's hands in his own and shaking them furiously. "Are you perhaps here on business as well? Or just for the pleasure?" he smiled coyly, looking at the man then at the girls, then back again, before laughing.

"Ah, but that is not my concern now, is it? Well if it is business, then maybe it is. Tell me, are you still in need of shipping services these days? Pendegraph Trading is very much welcome to be of your service any time. We guarantee to bring your precious cargo from wherever point in the Archipelago to anywhere else! And I'm sure you've had first hand experience with the quality of our service, yes?" he smiled.

On the other side of the room, Kravitz had a similar glint in her eyes as Levi, though she hid it better than her boss did.

"Oh, so you were the seller of some of the items earlier? That is quite amazing. Your husband must have been quite a collector. Impressive. Do tell me, which ones were his?"

[Vegna]

Kaynebot /Thagrosh

“Compartmentalisation is an unknown possibility, the only evidence suggests that it was not successful in the individual. If you wish to maintain a more complete control of your psyche, then I would recommend against inserting more foreign personalities into your being. A strong sense of self and willpower may delay the effects, but despite your altered form, you are only mortal. Eventually one day, the terminal number of conflicting personalities would take control. Or I may be incorrect, I require greater data for more accurate speculation.”

As you continue up the thick carpeted staircase, the invisible presence disappears from your unseen sense, wordlessly remaining outside of the Lord's home. The sound of thundering footsteps echoes from the upper floor as you approach the next line of defenders who attempt to stop your ascent. Your blood-sprayed form causes the guards to assault you with hardly the zeal of their dead comrades, many content to throw what ever missiles they have at hand from above your head. Instead they only look desperate, the only way down being through you or to attempt a leap from the balcony. One man does take the jump, rather than fight you, his body crashing against the marble floor with only weak movement to suggest he may still survive the night.

Another soldier tries to leap upon you, using the high ground and the weight behind his blade to over-power you. His efforts only allow him to be skewered on Rapture's blade, his red ichor dripping down the foul shish-kabob before turning your weapon's edge to end his suffering, allowing him to slide to the floor. This gruesome display illicts a mixed response of despair and fury in the few defenders still trying to delay your steady climb as an older soldier grasping a wide shield, possible some form of officer or captain, bellows orders for the group to fall back into the main passage. They are still trying to win or at least survive, but each step you take proves otherwise.

“. . . the Court will need to spare the men. The mob can take the slums as far as I . .”

Accompanied by the thud of her gilded staff, the Lord Kylona emerges from the corridor's end behind the defensive mass of metal. The candle-light that was illuminates the passage appears almost lightless compared to the glowing head of the Lord's sceptre, its radiance shining through the wall of guards and growing brighter with each moment. Her entourage of archers and bodyguards ready their crossbows to fire on your position, as the staff is tapped with a solid clang thrice. The captain shouts something, and there is a sudden break in their formation, the guards all moving to press against the walls and falling against the floor with their hands over their heads.

“Be gone, intruder!”

You have a few moments to retreat as the air is filled with the crackling of magic. Your stone leg is almost the death of you, as it protests the sudden movement to dodge whatever threat the Lord has up her sleeves. A buzzing sphere, as wide as your shoulders, composed of white energy fires past your right arm, smashing against the marble wall in front of you. The impact leaves a black circle of burnt stone and mangled ornamentals. The staff's light has greatly reduced now, allowing you to look clearly towards the Lord and her defenders again. She starts to fire smaller blasts accompanied with crossbow bolts on your position, as the guards reform a lower defensive line. They're pulling all the stops to try and beat you, but the Lord's trump shot has already missed you. If you can just get her in your grasp, the guards would have to stop fighting to save their precious Lord or killing that captain would at the least demoralise the rest. By the Mouth, if you just offered them the stairs, they'd probably run to save their soft skins, but where would be the challenge in that.

Raunchel/Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

Menander is an affable guest, appreciating the offered refreshments but uninterested in eating, intently focused on capturing an image that thousands would see, but never yourself. Yildiz seems to approve of it however, noting his liberal addition of warm colour to your pallor. As dawn begins to approach, he curses at the change of his lighting and concedes before any questions can be raised.

The Selemchant arrangement began its first steps as well, as what merchant vessels and able-hands you provided would hopefully turn into profit under the cunning minds of the Lord and his wife. They would still take time to reach the Eastern Frontier, but when they returned, they would be filled with exotic plunder that you would earn you cut from. One you may sorely need, as you are now funding a war.

The Hastur estate reports that Lucinda is improving with each day, her palette colouration having returned back to its natural pigment, with no signs of green weeping or other symptoms of lethal disease. The development of your construction should begin within the month, after the intervening homes have been adequately disposed of. An ambitious project, your architects commend, a great opportunity to line both parties' pockets, though between funding a war, working with the Selemchants and now this massive endeavour will tie up most of your direct affluence for the immediate future once you confirm construction to begin.

This is not to say you would be bankrupt, one of Bardocas' oldest saying is “when a Lord's coffers are empty, they pull the gold from their pens”, or something much more crass. Your house both owed and had granted several sums of loans amongst the various Lords of the city, requesting an early partial payment or another loan from your rivals in economy was just another day of business. The construction of a war-like fortress also would be built smoother with a formal request to the council, lest they mistake your personal security for military preparation. Ophelia has the letters ready before you even realise their potential mistakes, with extra emphasis on the boost it will provide to local businesses suitable for the discerning Lord, without disrupting their own roads.

The wind is blowing again as fitfully as the first night your grandfather unveiled himself to you, perhaps an omen or just a coincidence. Either way, the wind does little to disrupt his method of weightless travel, arriving almost three minutes past his previous visiting hour. He shuts the windows tightly behind his person, the din of the bluster rattling aggressively against the glass shields.

“Greetings again, Serdynage, I hope your week has been well. Have you thought on my tale from our last meeting? Tonight's lesson will be a degree more physical than the last one, an test of your capabilities as a vampire, rather than your proven acumen. Who knows, you might require that undead strength later tonight. Tell me, have you tested your power in any regard? You surely have noticed the positive effects of blood on your undead state, but what about your strength, your balance?”

He appears more energetic than before, much more and that is decidedly unsettling. The shifts from rage to melancholy, passivity and now subtle excitement are not the behaviours of a stable mind, albeit his daughter died in relatively recent terms of being his age. His weight disappears from the window, Yildiz taking a sudden step back before that mass reappears beside your chair in her previous spot, either from a soft jump or his travel trick again.

“There are more gifts to our condition than you know, maybe more than I do either. But the first step to improving any state is to understand its base conditions. Then performing testing. So, what are your capable of, Lord Serdynage?”

GuyFawkes/Levi T. Pendegraph

“Er. . Its quite alright, Mr Pendegraph. I remember the fine work your company performed for us in the Callistto reef, punctual and polite. And its . Ah hem . . business, I can assure you, I was sent to . . um, check for any odd or efficient items that might aid transportation, always looking to reduce costs where ever we, er, can. Frightful shame, losing the bid on that dragon galleon, but what can be done, when there is that kind of gold in an establishment like this.”

Beach is visibly squirming under the combined attention of yourself and his hanger-ons, unlike yourself, he doesn't seem at home with social eloquence and events like this. He dabs his forehead with a crumpled handkerchief, his thinning scalp reflecting the candle-light of the hall's chandelier near perfectly.

“I did grab this large puzzle box, lovely bit of erm, woodwork. Its almost as big as me and as old as dirt without magic to keep it together. But its, erm, also got over a hundred different, hidden compartments, so fingers crossed that there might something the auction house missed, heh heh. Unfortunately for the company's side, I only made do with some tampered resistant chests, uh, an elven lifeboat and some good luck charms from a sunken ship. Well, when I say it out loud like that, they don't seem like very good charms, now do they?”

The two courtesans visibly roll their eyes, Louise seems to no longer be paying attention to the Black-Sand merchant, her eyes now scouring the room for a better choice of bidder to use her charms on. Beach is too nervous to notice though, dabbing his cheeks and forehead again with the moist cloth.

“Aheh heh, um, its so terribly warm, don't you agree? What were you saying, oh um, about doing business again? Well, I would need to double check with, um, Mr Crag, but I believe we will have another shipment to be delivered to a Marine outpost. Er, its only a small quantity, b-but if you wouldn't mind going out of your way to send it to them, we'd be happy to pay you a sum. Or, or you would able to ship some raw bulk product from one of our peninsulas back to Bardocas, we could then, um, pay you a much larger sum what with the extended travel time and all that.”

Speaking of time, you notice the antique grandfather clock that occupies the centre of the east wall, the adamantite hands indicting you had a half and two hours until the guide on your life-threatening pottery mission would be ready, including the time it would take to walk back through the city if you weren't being chased by the coin-less patrons or irate fathers and husbands that often accompany your exits.

“Oh, Lawrence collected at least half of the things on sale tonight, though not much of it was valuable like warships or crystal blood. The puzzle crate, as this gentleman so pleasant described, was one of his. Spent seven years just to figure out to get the lid off, ooh, he was sour when I put Timothy's baby clothes inside for safe keeping. Not that they're still inside, that's treasure I'd never sell. Oh, what else? A statue of some naked woman, a glowing engagement ring, a fancy row-boat. Umm, more statues of naked women, a gnome kite and half a dozen bits of old jewellery. Whose your master here, dear? Is he treating you well?”

Louise emits a sudden tone of disgust, gesturing with her head towards the buffet table. One of the gentlemen from the discrete trio appears to be helping himself to generous helpings of everything, scoffing wine and entrées with little time to concern with breathing. His companions are no longer visible, though a pair of guardsmen do seem to be moving to remove the gentleman from the table.

[Raunchel]

Being painted again is a strange experience, I never liked it, but it is expected of me. Someone smearing mixtures over a canvas and everyone finds it amazing. It never felt special, just another hard textured surface. And not even nicely textured at that. Of course I was beaten for touching it, so I never did it again. Nowadays no one would dare to touch me in such a way, but I still remember it, there is nothing to them. I really prefer tapestries, at least they are soft. And statues of course, I will soon order a new sculpture of myself, which can subsequently be copied, and which I can actually feel.

War is expensive, and luckily this is only a minor one, for a few islands. If my side wins I will make a great profit, and if they lose, I will force the winner to pay back the loans, jus to protect themselves from me. So many princes don’t understand it, titles and lands don’t bring power, real power comes from gold and knowledge. Armies can be bought, and once the gold dries up, the army dries up. Money, that is true power. Wealth, and not just the small wealth of the islanders, but the wealth of the mercantile dynasties of Bardocas is what determines the fate of the world.

There are so many mistakes that people make, even in the histories that are read to me. It’s just like when they remark on luxury goods as the bringers of wealth, they aren’t. The real source of my wealth is the Mothertrade, grain and wood. The basic necessities of the archipelago, they are not splendorous and spectacular, but they are the source of real wealth. There is little fluctuation, there is no fashion, only steady profit. It will pay for the construction. It uses up great amounts of liquid assets, but I always learned to look at the long term, not at short periods of expenditure. I will not make any new great investments for a while, but soon the returns will come and I can continue working on a large scale again. To be honest I like it that way, I enjoy working all the little details of my work, they are one of the best ways to spend my time.

Ophelia is a good girl, I like her and over the years she has learned my way of thinking. I will make the formal request once the ground has been secured, in the past there have been issues with suddenly rising prices when large construction work was announced, and in this way I can evade it. The new ownership of this ground will of course not be made public, it will be bought by firms which are indirectly owned by my girls, in such a way that they cannot be traced back to me. I will then purchase them all from myself, which will cost a small sum, but will cover the whole operation.

Again I sit in the same place, I am predictable in such regards, but there is no risk in that. It merely reflects the disadvantage that I have compared to many potential enemies. Grandfather speaks again, still he has given no name. That is clever of him, names give a lot of information, and can serve as useful leads in investigations. Names also project things, my name for instance projects wealth and power, but it also makes me vulnerable, any who hears it knows who I am, and there always are those annoying rumors that they seek out. Once Lucinda came to tell me about one of those rumors she heard incognito in the city. Some sailors said that I had secretly married the sun but that my being close to it had taken my eyes. Then again, I appear to also be secretly married to a dozen lords and a few simple city boys. Such tales are amusing, and are spread about many people, but still, I don’t like it when people speculate about me.

He speaks about powers and abilities, that certainly is interesting. But what is even more interesting and perhaps even troubling is the mention of a need of such powers. Of course, the potential danger always exists, but to me this almost sounds like a threat, or perhaps a warning of some kind? There simply is too much that I do not know.

“I have experienced greater physical abilities, I can run faster, I am stronger. My senses are better than they used to be. It was the first thing I noticed, suddenly everything was loud, even the smallest sounds were clearly there. I can smell things, far better than I used to. My sense of taste came with it, the palate of tastes widened tremendously, but most of them became a burden. Only blood sates me now, the blood of sentient beings. Luckily I am in a situation that allows me to gain an ample supply of it, but I can imagine that in another situation it will be a heavy burden. As you will undoubtedly understand I am limited in the ways in which I could explore these abilities, so I must admit that there isn’t any other special gift that I have.”

[Kaynebot]

Thagrosh grins ready for a true bloodbath. His devilish grin hinting at the malevolent thoughts going on, I could use Rapture as a missile for the Captain, and rush for the lady herself. Or I could relish the entire battle, slaughtering everyone of there pathetic souls, it would be a start to teaching this Lord a lesson in manners. Thagrosh growled limping towards the warriors swinging Rapture widely so they couldn't get in close...for the moment. "My Lord!" he says mockingly at Kylona, "this blood is on your hands, and soon around your throat, just remember you could have stopped this while I was still standing outside at your gates." Thagrosh held his ground near the steps. Swinging Rapture with joy, only a few hours ago he'd be near dead from exhaustion at swinging Rapture around with such speed and force, but now he felt renewed. He felt like he could take on the world.

As soon as Thagrosh's mind slipped he felt the needle pricks that were there halberds and swords. Responding with a growl, Thagrosh renewed his grip on Rapture and pushed out. Holding it like a spear, he skewered several men with efficiency before switching grip to accompany a wide threshing like motion. Killing several more, he pushed the advantage, hefting Rapture up he held it like a spear before angling it for the humans heads. Throwing it an angle he saw it skewer several more passing through their plate armor like a hot knife through butter. Thagrosh charged after it, bashing men aside, not caring whether they lived. A passing moment saddened him that some would live, shaking his head he retrieved Rapture, out of the gore of a man pinned to the floor. At this point Thagrosh felt the pain start to flare, the guards pressing their attack, the ones that couldn't or didn't want to run at least. The mass of their attacks made him step back, one piece of a metal in his back was enough.

Thagrosh settled into a fighting stance, picking about almost halfway to Lord Kylona, killing the men as they were pushed forward by their captain to their deaths. He tried the best he could dodging the Lord's magic attacks, he never trusted magic and so couldn't be sure exactly what would happen if one hit in the wrong spot. Each time he swung or stabbed with Rapture he took a step forward, at moments the men would be 180 degrees around his front, but Thagrosh fought with efficiency and skill that would be surprising for something as big and brutal as him. It would be much easier to just use his bulk and strength as a killing machine but he didn't want his edge with Rapture to deteriorate.

Seeing an opening between the fear stricken faces and the shortening distance to both Kylona and the Captain. Thagrosh can feel the reserve wells of his endurance being drawn upon, the small efforts are becoming harder, and he's losing his finesse. Making a fast action he marches for the Lord, cursing his stone leg as his swings Rapture carving a path through the wall of bodies, stepping on a live soldier and hearing his chest cavity crack and him screaming at the pain. He feels the soldiers the swarming around him, the ones on the backside trying to focus their attacks towards his previous wound. If the stone foot hadn't been there he would never have so easily been hit. Limping towards he lengthened his grip on Rapture holding it one hand he swung towards her, trying to cut at any magical barrier before making a wide horizontal swung killing a few guards on his right, letting go of Rapture watching it head towards the Captain. With the last of his moment he knocked one guard out of the way, and swung his fist for Lord Kylona's throat, opening up to clutch her throat and hoist her off her feet.

This was the plan and Thagrosh knew he didn't have much effort if Kylona had another trick up her sleeve, he wouldn't have Rapture right there. It would be quite the sight though, holding her several feet off the ground while he's bloodied, a mix of the guards' weapons that caused the pin pricks that made it past his rock hard skin. He could feel several points where the blood was running down. He watched his open palm go for her throat, lessening his speed so as not to accidentally crush her stupidly soft throat.

[Vegna]

Kaynebot /Thagrosh

You hear the slice of Rapture's edge cutting clean through the captain's simple steel shield, as your inertia lifts the Lord Kylona off of her feet and shakes the staff from her grasp. If she could cast any incantations, she didn't have the breath to utter the words and her hands were pre-occupied with grasping your trunk-thick arm to stop you from strangling her in the air. Her bulging eyes lock with yours, feebly striking your wrist in an effort to free herself, but she is a lady of learning and economy, not a warrior. Though few warriors could achieve better against you and without a weapon. Killing her is not your goal though as any lead to a cure would die with her, and so you allow her feet to touch the floor just enough to speak again.

“You . . bar. . barian. May . . the . . . Mouth swallow . . you whole. I told . . . the truth. . A Medusan . . curse has. . . no . . . cure. Flesh is . . . amputated . . . or left . . as stone . . forever.”

Her eyes gaze behind your head to look over the carnage you have wrecked through her home, not a tear shed, only haughty anger despite your complete victory. She weakly taps your stone foot with her shoe, mockingly slightly.

“And now . . . the . . . city . . . is . . . in . . . arms. A . . . single cut . . . may . . . not kill . . you. But a thousand. . . two? Or maybe . . . your own?”

Her eyes look behind you again, as you here a guttural roar mixed with pain and anger. Dropping the gasping Lord on the floor in reflex, you turn to swing your marble hands to swing at the red-faced Captain. His shield has been discarded, the upper quarter shorn clean off by your thrown attack. Instead, Rapture is in the white-knuckled hands of this Lord's Captain, his neck muscles bulging from the involuntary pain your weapon is punishing him with. Even as you turn to strike him, the pain had already stripped any strength in his attack. Rapture falls from his grasp as its fine edge accidentally slices down the back of your right leg, from your your lower hamstring to the stone heel. Its like a long red line across your flesh rather than a cut, thanks to either the adrenaline, Rapture's fine edge or your stone with no noticeable pain.

As move to retrieve your weapon and decide what to do with these two remaining individuals, your stone's monotone voice raises almost half a pitch in near interest.

“Your leg is bleeding. I am aware that you noticed the injury, but I was referring to the petrified portion. Regardless of this scholastic assumption, I can detect a thicker than usual blood-like substance leaking through your stone leg. I am only extrapolating, but I believe that some aspect of my design is reversing the petrification process, albeit extremely slowly. You may not require a cure or time wasted, thanks to that middle-aged soldier assaulting you.”

You still have some survivors on the estate to take care of, if you cared at all about returning to the city again, or maybe some small token of assisting them in this apparently approaching mob could help smooth things over in an extremely small way. You could hear the sounds of shouting in the distance, in the now silent estate and it is growing louder.

Raunchel/Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

Your grandfather makes a tune of agreement, humming slightly as he paces in front of your seat, perhaps a little disappointed at your lack of vampiric skills, but that is what he was for.

“Understandable, with a lifestyle of requiring to be educated on any classic subject, it must be difficult to explore your gifts without a teacher. With your disability, I am uncertain if you will be able to fully use all of what I could teach you, the condition is one that I have never seen in a vampire born blind, rather than having their pre-existing vision stripped. It could be quite educational for both of us, regardless of the outcome.”

You hear him mutter Livilla's name and then chuckle at some internal joke. His weight disappears and steps back beside the window again, his hands steadying the shaking glass. Surely his lesson wasn't over already, he had only just arrived?

The main door to the hallway rattles with a soft pair of knocks, it could only be Xanthe as the rest of your inner circle were at the other estate and the servants wouldn't dare interrupt one of your private meetings unless they wished to be ejected by the house guards.

“My Lord Lady! I am very so sorry, but I have important news. Very bad, bad news!”

She losses all of her grammar when she's stressed, the street life still deep in her mannerisms despite your lessons, but she had been improving gradually. Whether you let Xanthe into the meeting room and allow her to meet Grandfather ''officially'' or have Yildiz take the message at the door, the news is the same. The elder vampire opens the windows wide, letting the blustering wind blow through the room, ruffling your attire slightly. But the wind's howl is not the only noise that your undead ears capture, the soft screaming and yelling of hundreds of other voices. He steps around the table and back towards you, interrupting your attendant,

“She's means the mob. Your city is devouring itself, my Lord, in greed and desire. I saw at least half a thousand souls when I approached, mostly from your Slum quarters rioting towards the domains of this Isle's Lords, and I believe the numbers have grown since then. Your Court Guards were making a very good go of it though.”

Yildiz almost splutters in barely concealed anger, “You knew?! Then why have you been wasting our time, when we should have been organising our security! My Lady, should we retreat to the Hastur Estate? We can combine both estates' guards to ward of the mongrels better that way.”

“Ah, yes and leave a whole mansion of valuables to a swarm of bandits and thieves. Serdynage, this is a golden opportunity to explore your strengths, in a riot this size, no one will notice a few missing mortals. Round up half a dozen thugs, through them in your cells and you have instant practice targets. Leave your trusted guards to take care of the mob, and we can train your greater gifts.”

[Raunchel]

Serdynage Hastur-Vartul
My abilities are disappointing to him, which implies several things. There are many different abilities, some of them should be relatively easy to learn and of course, they can be taught. Livilla never was kind to me, she used me, she didn’t want me for who I was, but for my wealth. Even his wondering provides knowledge. Some of those abilities, and from how he says it important ones, do require sight. That seems logical, most beings I meet use it as their primary way to perceive the world. He must be blaming Livilla for this, and will see it as something that makes his revenge easier. He will teach me some things, but he will keep the most important ones to himself, so I can’t strike back at him while he plots and considers what he will do. He can’t be trusted, but for now there is no other way.

Xanthe bursts in, the poor child sounds stressed, not only from her accent, but her voice contains shock. She will learn, they all learn to lose the speech of the streets. Yildiz had a bad case of it as well, and now only uses it to play with Lucinda, and when she is doing more secretive things in the city. The girl enters the room to tell me when Grandfather interrupts her.

Luckily most of the construction contracts have already been signed, otherwise the increase in construction costs that always occurs in the aftermath of such unrest will be terrible. My first instinct tells me to flee, but I don’t want to do that. I can’t lose my mother’s house to some mob. The shame of it would make me the target of ridicule throughout the council, and I can’t use that: “An evacuation will be difficult through such violence and I cannot be considered weak in the face of a mob. This manor might not be a fortress like I planned for the Hastur Estate, but it still has strong walls and gates. It will be difficult to take by storm and will provide excellent reasons for the planned expanded defenses. We are safer in here than in a carriage in the streets. Send a runner to Hastur and inform them that they are to hold the manor and not allow entrance to any of the rioters. They will be allowed to kill. These ruffians cannot be allowed to rampage through the city.”

I place my hand on Xanthe’s shoulder, she needs some support, and work often provides a splendid distraction: “I will go to the walls, so I can be kept informed of what is happening, and these rioters can know that a true lord never fears her lessers. It will also help my standing with my peers. Should the opportunity present itself, there will be prisoners that can be used freely. The usual channels can remain untapped for a while then. And my lord grandfather, would you be as kind as to offer me company in this dread hour?”

[GuyFawkes]

Levi T. Pendegraph

"Your husband was quite a collector, and such an impressive collection," Krevitz smiled. And when asked the question, she turned to where she saw Levi earlier.

"That long-haired man over there, unfortunately. Worst master one could ever have, if you ask me. Always relies on us on everything," she said, shaking her head as she did.

"But, underneath all his short-comings, he is a good man, a good friend, and the best brother one could ever have," she turned back to face the madame with a warm smile on her face. "At least a whole tad better than my real brother," she added with a giggle.

Back at Levi's side, he could be seen gleaming. It was looking to be a waste of time coming back, but it seemed a reversal of fortune had just happened. It's always a positive to bind more business ties for Levi, and this one was an opportunity to establish his trade more, especially around these parts of the archipelago.

"But of course, of course! It would be our pleasure! I am sure we are available to accommodate both requests! As usual, just contact our main office. Tell them you've talked to me and they will be happy to serve you. Here," he shuffled through his pocket and produced a square card with a deep blue ship emblem and the words "Pendegraph Shipping" in all capital letters underneath it, held it with both hands and gave it to the man Beach. "Give it to the ones at the office and they'll know you talked to me personally. VIP treatment," he winked and grinned.

"And you say you're looking to actually purchase a ship for your own company?" Levi came in closer, putting his arm over the man's shoulders, clearly going in for the kill. "Maybe we could talk about that as well. We not only provide shipping services, we are also venturing into commissioning new ships as well as buying old ones and fixing them up to suit our customer's tastes. It's a bit new on our part, but we have nothing but satisfied feedback from our customers. So, how about it? Shall we find you a new or refurbished ship, Mr. Beach?"

Down at the other end of the room, a commotion had started, with one of the earlier men involved, but Levi was too focused on his business talk to take notice. One who wasn't too busy, however, was Hanya, who was also near the food table and observing the events there up close. He had been eyeing the trio with suspicion since they arrived, and now that the man was about to be escorted outside, he decided to follow them. Grabbing a few pieces of sliced meat, he nonchalantly followed them out.

[Kaynebot]

Thagrosh couldn't help but break out laughing hysterically, adding to his deranged monster look. He couldn't help it, he had spent all this effort killing dozens of men and making an enemy of a Lord! Just to find out that the foot was gonna heal on its own. So can you give an estimate on when the stupid foot will be completely healed? he wanted to know as his mind started to wonder. The immediate threat was dealt with and so now it was what to do with the Lord and the rest of her guards, and what to do with the mob. Thagrosh started pacing back and forth, he figured the lady and the captain knew they were defeated and they couldn't do anymore harm to him anyways, now that he had Rapture again.

As soon as he walked a few steps, he felt the searing pain of the spearhead still embedded in his back. Stopping in front of the lady, he rolled his shoulders a little to pinpoint the blade, taking his right hand he reached over his shoulders, feeling the oozing wound. He winced as he dug his fingers in around the blade tip. Clenching his teeth his clenched the foreign metal in his body and tore it out, shaking his head at the pain, it felt much better now. Taking the metal he threw it at Kylona, not to hurt her, but more of a show. Thagrosh didn't exactly know why he did it, but he smirked as he tossed it to her. Maybe it was his arrogance and showing off his his remarkable toughness. "I told you this could have been avoided" Thagrosh growled at Kylona, "Now your arrogance has gone and killed your only defense against this mob. And sentenced those here, who are still alive, to death. Your damn arrogance did this!" Thagrosh grabbed Kylona and pushed her into the wall. He was sick of her arrogance and really wanted to see how she would react. Thagrosh's face lightened up a little, "But then again, maybe you should live a little longer. Wouldn't want the mob to kill you, I think I've earned the right to end your life myself. If that's what I decide. What do you think?" Thagrosh ended with the question. He figured he test how deep her arrogance ran. Would it be the death of her? he thought, grinning.

Thagrosh's mind snapped back to the crystal. He'd gone so long without it, that he almost forgot he had it. You got any knowledge on how to deal with a mob? Or what I should do with these pathetic people? And not to mention what was that thing outside?, Thagrosh beginning to grow impatient, grabbed Lord Kylona and pushed her towards the steps. If anyone would try to stop him, he'd kill them without a second thought. Thagrosh kept pushing her towards the doorway if she wouldn't go willingly, and he imagined she wasn't stupid enough to try and run, he had already demonstrated his ability to use Rapture as a missile. After travelling down the stairs towards the doorway, with Kylona leading, Thagrosh whistled, "Hey you still there?" he called out to the entitiy.

[Vegna]

Kaynebot /Thagrosh

“Your foot's current rate of regeneration suggests that it could take with one and two months to regain fully function and motor control again. The regeneration may allow for increasing dexterity over time, allowing you to move the petrified digits sooner, but this is a new phenomena to myself.”

Lord Kylona's eyes are repulsed and defiant at your words, in her mind the fault is still with you, but she holds her tongue for what its worth. As you throw her against the wall, her expression still burns in anger at your unrefined behaviour, replying to your question with,

“I think that I am more valuable and useful as a hostage, than as a corpse. If I die, then you can never return to the jewel of the Archipelago, but alive, you can barter safety and security from my associates. The mob is no stage to execute me, and I am not dead now, so I do not believe you will kill me soon unless I have a use.”

As you move through the half-destroyed estate, the crystal continues to narrate inside your mind.

“A mob in your current state is best approached with assistance or retreat. Your body is strong, but enough clubs and scratches will still wear you down. Kill the security if you wish to leave as little possible witnesses as possible, but killing a Lord of this island will have consequences I cannot fully estimate. They may simply wish you never return or they may see it as an affront and you will have to consider the additional pressure of the most powerful known island sending assassins after you whilst you must also focus on the other crystal modified entity.

I know nothing of the invisible entity as you know nothing either. I have no great storage of information, I, in fact, known exactly what you know. I can only calculate, estimate and monitor information you receive but may not consciously notice or remember, due to being, for all intents and purposes, too stupid. I compute data very well, but I cannot pull knowledge you have never encountered from the air. Only that you could not sense it without my integration, maybe another self-defence mechanism in your mutations.”

Speaking of the air, your call to the night sky and the invisible being, the pressure of its existence once again perceptible behind your eyes. Rather than reply loudly from above, the voice appears to come from directly beside your ears. Not loud enough to deafen you, but the directness is slightly shocking,

“Foot still the same. Kept to my advice then. Good choice, everyone dresses symmetry is the in thing, but it never hurts to throw your upper-head-thing into the circle and strike out in your own style. City's gone mad by the way, so you should rock-fly like your number one, or someone'll probably dig the stone out of you.”

The Lord seems confused at your conversation to the air, looking around for some hiding accomplice, but otherwise holds her tongue in case you kill her for questioning how you act.

“Ah, forgot how long it takes to learn things for you folks. Still, you seem smart in dealing with things. Keep cutting till they're dead right, works for most people. They're practically here though.”

Your ears suggest that the riot will not be here for at least another five minutes, so the entity seems to have an odd perception of now. The street outside of the Lord's estate is still empty of rioters, as far as you see from here. No horses for a fast escape, though few could hold your weight before the transformation anyway.

Raunchel/Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

“If you feel my presence will not unsettle the rest of your house, then gladly. I am intrigued to see how you shall tackle this mob, though should your security fail, I will not be resolving the situation in front of that many witnesses. We do not need talk of monsters amongst your estate, do we?”

Xanthe excuses herself to arrange the runner, whilst Yildiz falls in line behind you and your grandfather as your trio make its way to the front line of your estate's outermost walls. Passing through the household, you can pick up the hurrying of servants making efforts to secure the busts and other decorations from the front windows, lest a wild projectile damage any priceless artefacts. One servant is protesting against his forceful arrest by a house-guard, a gauntleted hand pulling clinking silverware from the boy's pockets. Funny how when the house burns, the insects are always the first to scurry away.

“Caught a lad trying to make off with your cutlery, my Lord. Want me to take the hand or just throw the thief to the mob?”

Regardless of your judgement, you have little time to waste on the petty matters. The princess of Wodar can also be heard demanding that a guard bring an army to shield her important royal form, but he only grunts that she best hide under her bed as he stands in front of her door, halberd clanging to attention as your entourage passes by.

“My Lord.”

As you approach the outer wall, Captain Montgomery is ready to greet you along with a slightly panting Xanthe, a ripple of “My Lord” grows from the defenders with all the morale they can muster. The walls were sturdy, but built with flair, rather than war in mind. Ten feet fall and two solid feet of brick topped with carved duplicates of the stylish Vartul arrow, near a dozen archers on ladder now nestled between the house symbols with bows drawn. The gates were dwarven steel, rust-proof and would take a troll to bend, so wall-climbers were the greatest risk from a rabble such as this. Their revolting roars are growing louder, with your loyal defender's raising their voices to compensate.

“My Lady, we have our eleven best bows on the wall, with another five men securing your staff and home. The remaining thirty arms and myself are at your disposal to repel any climbers and give the scum a good jabbing through the gate, if you pardon my tone. Wilkins says that some of mob appear to have managed to nab some Court Guard gear, probably off of some first responders, but most are armed with nothing accept rocks or their bare hands. The band heading towards us split off from the main horde, but head count is outnumbering us three-to-one, they'll be at the gate in a few minutes. Should be too bad though, we've got the wall and better gear, just got to wear them down and hope the arrows don't run out.”

The first couple of bows are starting to twang as the bloody roar of this peasant horde grows closer. Even if the guards might fall, your grandfather could potential deal with the survivors, you could even use this as an opportunity to gauge his strength at the cost of some replaceable soldiers. Or capture and security should take priority, your Captain is as loyal as they come and orders you might wish to make would be enforced to the letter. The thirty standing guards are readying their spears and shields at the gate, as the riot sounds like it is making its way up the main road.

GuyFawkes/Levi T. Pendegraph

“Aw, that is lovely, dear. You can rarely be fortunate enough to pick your family, is your other one a bit of a trouble maker then? Doesn't know how to share?"

Beach fumbles the VIP card into his pocket, his hanger-ons having reserved most of the use of his arms. Louise surrenders his right arm, before muttering about powdering her nose to Cassandra and leaving for the bathroom or maybe a new mark.

“That a very generous offer, Mr Pendegraph. I'll b-be sure to do so first thing in the morning. Ships, ships, um, I was hoping for cheap, but also high quality, if s-such a thing would be possible. I-I understand that you m-may say that everyone w-wants that, but I do not mind when the ap-appearance is considers. It can look like something dragged from the bottom of the Lipless Mouth, but as long as its fast or at le-east safe and cheap, then I'd be very interested in something like that.

As Hanya follows the guards and their piggish guest, he notices a small group of Court Guard running down towards the direction of the slum quarter, sables rattling at their hips and wooden rifles slung over their shoulders. Probably someone wasn't paying their taxes so the bully boys are being sent in. The food-stained patron is tossed into the gutter by the pair of guards, with as little grace as possible.

“If ya want to come to a classy place like this, ya better show better deck-or -rum next time, or we won't be so nice.”

“Yeah, da gutter is a good place for pigs. Hey, what you doing out here, party's inside? What, you wanna give the fatty a kick? 'Ave a go, he nipped me fingers on the way out, bloody freak.”

The guards notice Hanya's curiosity, one of them sporting a bloody knuckle from the patron's resistance. Distracted by the smuggler, the bloated man lunges at the clean guard's neck, taking a massive bloody bite of the brute's neck. Blood sprays Hanya as arteries continue to try pump life to the collapsing body. The man take another bite, and another before he is skewered on the spear on the bitten guard, grunting with mouthfuls of meat about hunger.

“I was just. . so . . hungry.”

“Sunken monster! You ate Tom, you bloody ate Tom! What are you looking at, bloody rich kid?! If you weren't here, he would've 'ave got the jump on 'im. Just content with all your gold and whores, while 'onest folk work in the filth!”

The hired guard's mood seems to have shifted rapidly from shock to violent anger direct at purely at the mostly innocent Hanya, innocent in this regard at least. His eyes are wide, teeth bared with anger and just a faint lick of the lips. He removes the blood soaked spear from the limp body of the hungry man, and swing it like a club at Hanya's head, crude and barbaric.

[Raunchel]

Serdynage Hastur-Vartul
“Indeed, such talk of monsters would be most disturbing. The mention of such beings might unsettle my servants.”, I reply. If there was an actual attack I would have withdrawn for now, to my dressing rooms to be dressed in mithral and gold. But this is a mere mob, such precautions would be an insult to the guards and my own dignity. Even acknowledging the masses as a true enemy would empower them, give them a certain dignity which they lack. They have to lack it, when the common people gain dignity they will not merely riot, they will rise and everything will fall. They are the true threat, far greater than any pirate, greater than any dark wizard or army. They hold tremendous power, but they can never know. They must think that they are weak or the world will burn.

The guard speaks to me, that is good, they still respect the law despite the situation. And I will do what the law obliges me to. There are several ways to maintain position, love and fear. Love takes time to be grown, but there are those who are loyal for love only. Fear is less reliable in the long term, but in the short term no force on this world is greater than fear. In a situation like this it is the only way. The best situation of course is the combination of fear and love. To be loved for ones caring and generosity, but being feared for what one will do when provoked. “Take the right hand and the clothes that I dressed him in. Then remove him from my house. I will not tolerate base criminals within these walls. He can leave over them.”

When I walk on I heard the boy sob and then scream. Excellent, loyalty still exists. I smell the blood, it is alluring but fortunately I tend to drink before my meetings, Unlike others I don’t hunt, I am fed like a decent person is. The princess complains, of course she does. “Inform the good princess that this is a minor disturbance that will not threaten her august personage. She is perfectly safe here, these walls have not be crossed with harmful intentions since they were built three hundred years ago.”

I neglect to mention that there have not been many attacks on them, and that they were built after terrible riots which almost completely destroyed the outer walls, and reduced the inner buildings to a fortress. Of course, the then-lord and my ancestor Seleim Vartul saw it as a wonderful opportunity to build the mansion that he wanted, far more luxurious than the old building ever was. He even built the luxury that made him famous as a fool, his swimming pool with a wall of gold. These pools still exist, but are hardly used anymore, except by my girls.

When I reach Xanthe she holds out Almace, the Vartul family sword. Of course all sorts of things are said about it, that it never loses the edge, that it can cut through any armour, that it is unbreakable, that everyone it strikes explodes in a shower of blood. A few of those things are true, but it hasn’t been used in combat for decades, the last time was when my father fought on the behalf of my mother against lord Drinal, who fought for lady Drinal with whom my mother had disputed since their childhood. My parents weren’t even married yet. It was easily the duel of the year, no ordinary champions but two young lords standing against each other. Both wore the finest armour and swords their families could provide, and both had learned to fight from the best masters in the city, and therefore the archipelago. The Vartul and Diron manors were close to each other, and by sheer chance there was a market square exactly halfway between the two houses. The market for the day was cancelled as stands were erected. Of course, it didn’t quite match the later tales, or so my mother told me. The two knew how to fight, they had great and renowned weapons, but they were wearing the best augmented armour that their considerable wealth could buy. They pounded each other with their magical blades for almost an hour, in the end they only made wild swings when they had again gathered the breath to do that. Finally my beloved father’s opponent fell, after another weak blow to the head. According to my mother it wasn’t the blow that did it, but rather the burning sun on the heavy armour. With lord Drinal fallen my father was the victor, something which he always reminded everyone of. I belief that he has had a dozen paintings made of his heroic fight.

And now that ancient legacy is mine to wield. It is not a special weapon causing people to explode or anything like that. It simply cannot be damaged. I can know, even with my greatest strength hitting steel I could not blunt it, and yes, I did cut right through the plates that normally protect the greatest warriors. I lack skill with the blade, but the ancient prodigy of this weapon will let me explain how I could utterly destroy my enemies, I after all do bear the Vartul name and for me it will strike with great force. I want captives, but I also want to protect what’s mine. And no one ever said that cattle need to be intact. No one will dare to threaten me or my girls.

“Excellent captain. I believe that these preparations will be sufficient to repel these brigands. I will stand here with you, and please, do not worry for my safety. These walls have not been crossed in centuries and there is sufficient force here to protect me. And should it come to such a situation, I will cut them down like my father cut down lord Drinal and like my great grandmother, the lady Hastur, fought her way through the red prince’s host of pirates.”

I raise my voice: “Gentlemen! Tonight, the barbarians are at the gates! I expect that you will do your duty and administer the justice of Bardocas. These rabble are attacking property, not only that of lords but also that of your fellow citizens. The law is clear in that regard. It is legal to kill or injure them, and you will show no regret in that regard. There is danger, yes, but be assured that generous pensions will be paid to those who suffer wounds in the service of the law and for the protection of this city’s prosperity. Tonight, I stand here with you. I am a lord of Bardocas and that means that I cannot simply hide. Those who distinguish themselves in my service will be handsomely rewarded. Now, put an end to this disturbance!”

Even as a child I learned how I should behave in such situations. I should say some inspiring words, and not get in the way of the professionals. At most I should wave a sword in the air to inspire them, and of course, I should take care to not actually end up in the fighting. In all situations I should be wearing armor making me invulnerable to most attacks. That way, I will always survive. My brother learned how to be a swordsman, they never even tried to teach me. The only part I know of it is that I should swing a sword with the sharp parts, right at my enemies. Of course, I do want some prisoners today, but my girls will help with that, as will my grandfather, hopefully.

The shouting comes ever closer, I can even catch some words, like murderers. Apparently the archers have hit some of them. That is good, it diminishes the numbers a little. I wonder if they will actually try to climb my walls. It starts when I hear them pushing at the gates. They cannot come through those, but the walls are low, unlike those of my Hastur plans. I wonder which idiot caused all of this. There are screams, and the smell of blood and innards. Xanthe seems to be afraid while Yildiz remains a little calm. I turn to Xanthe: “Xanthe, will you please return to the main building with the royal princess? I think that she would feel safer in the white room. If things should not go as well as planned, you know where you should go.”

I of course refer to one of the many bolt holes hidden in the building. This specific one is amongst the most secure, and will even survive a fire due to its solid stone construction. Immediately she runs away. It is only proper, a girl her age shouldn’t be present in a battle. “Yildiz? I do hope that you are wearing the ring?”

Of course she does, she worn it ever since the little mock ceremony I held for her and Lucinda. Their adoration for each other is such a touching thing. I procured the rings from distant Filanor, and they bear the most peculiar enchantment. Somehow those who wear them have their skin become almost impregnable, as though there is a thin layer of invisible mail over them. Especially for the clumsy Lucinda the ring has been a true blessing, she doesn’t cut herself that much anymore. Of course it isn’t nearly as effective as true armour, but it does stop most human-delivered cuts.

The rioters find out that the gate cannot be forced and the first start trying to climb the walls. These first are easily cut down by the good captain’s men, but more and more swarm over them. Yildiz stands close behind me and she shouts a warning to me. I was almost too distracted by the general events to hear the scrawny man running at me. But not anymore. I strike, not holding back. Almace’s unnatural edge cuts right through his flesh and bone, bisecting him from what I assume to be his left shoulder to his right hip. “Behold! This shall be the fate of any who dare to stand against the lords of Bardocas! I am Serdynage Hastur-Vartul and I demand that you lay down your arms and surrender to the law! I might not see, but my hand is guided by the gods themselves!”

I shout, it is exhilarating to kill like that. There is blood on my face, on my clothes. I resist licking it from around my mouth. There is no need to cause undue rumors. I take a step forwards, another approaches. She screams something, I can hardly understand the speech of these rabble. It is terrible to admit, but I simply don’t understand the accent of the lower classes. This time I hold back, I cut of course, but not as effectively as before. She still falls, her lower legs stay standing a little while longer but then they fall as well. She will regret not dying. That is something that I can be sure of.

[GuyFawkes]

Levi T. Pendegraph

"Ah, that is not a problem. I think we have just what you need, actually. You see, we just bought an old one last week. A bit battered from its age, but still seaworthy. And nothing our team of master shipbuilders can't make into the fastest and the safest voyager out there. And depending on your definition of cheap, we may be able to throw in some extra," Levi said as he nudged Beach's shoulder and grinned before coming in closer. "So, how cheap are we talking about here, Mr. Beach?"

"Yes, you could say that. Well, they're both the same, actually," Kravitz smiles. "It's like they're more like the actual siblings than the two of us," she giggled.

"A serious lack of responsibility, both of them. It makes me think sometimes they do it cause I'm there to clean up after them."

She looked around the room for Hanya. "Speaking of which, I think my brother's up to something again. Trouble most probably," she said, shaking her head. "If you will excuse me, sir, madame. It was a pleasure talking to the both of you." With a bow, she parted ways with the two and made her way across the room, through the crowd. She made her way around so that she was in Levi's line of sight, letting him know she was done with her part.

Outside, Hanya quietly followed the group, food still in hand and in his mouth.

"Shrrr, Ahh cmmd do baaht," Hanya said with mouth full when one of the guards offered to have him kick the bloated man. As he walked forward though, he noticed the man lunge at the guard and bite him on the neck, spraying blood everywhere. Hanya though was quick enough to avoid the splatter.

"Oh ****!!" he managed to say clearly, having swallowed most of the food and the rest falling off his mouth when he moved so fast earlier. He stepped back as he watched wide-eyed at the bizarre spectacle happening before him, all the while coughing and beating his chest to dislodge the large chunk of food stuck down his throat.

When he did manage to swallow down his food, the other guard had skewered the crazy man-biting lunatic with his spear. He was glad it was all over, but then the other guard now turned his anger towards him.

"Hey, hey, hey. That's hurtful! Have you seen rich kids going around like this?" Hanya grabbed his threads and tugged at them, making it clear to the guard his mistake. "Sure, I'd love to have the gold and the women, but I don..."

Hanya is cut off mid sentence as he dodged a spear swing from the guard who now seemed convinced the whole situation was all his fault.

"Hey, hey, you're making a huge mistake here, ya know? I was just here ta get some fresh air, and your buddy came and talked ta me!" he said while easily swaying back to avoid the blows. "Hey, hey, better stop before you hurt yourself." His voice was serious now.

[Kaynebot]

Thagrosh stands thinking, Ok then, so now we have to escape. I guess the best option would be to weave through the alleyways in the opposite direction? The mob too focused on raising havoc actually in the Lords' estates?. Standing still for a few seconds, he knows he has to leave but Thagrosh wants to know more about the entity, "So do you often go around defending Lords' estate? Or was I just special enough to get your attention?" he calls out. His hand reflexively tightening around Rapture thinking about how he almost didn't get the crystal, not to mention he still knew nothing about this thing. "So you coming with or you gonna stay here and entertain the mob?"

Leaning down towards Kylona noticing the look of bewilderment on her face he simply stares her dead in the eyes, "When we leave you stay right beside me, don't say a word unless I talk to you and don't try anything. You'd die before you took five steps, then I'd have kill more people to get away from this damned island. So if you want even more blood on your hands, go ahead, try something." Thagrosh said everything in a simple tone, no expression on his face as he awaited to see if the crystal had any more instruction. He thought about killing more guards to cover up his tracks, but that could take too long to find them, hopefully the mob would cover his tracks fairly well.

Otherwise he'd move towards the first whole in the wall the Daemon created. Planning on escaping through there and weaving through the alleyways. So when we get out of here, got any advice on where to go? I imagine the daemon will keep chasing us. I need time for this retarded foot heal., Thagrosh glanced at Kylona with an angry sneer before turning back to his thoughts. Plus we still need to talk about the fact that there is more of 'you.' You advise against more entities inside of my head but if you did this to me then more has to be true power, and truly amazing. There has to be someway of controlling it. Not that I'd ever try and control you, but power is the name of the game. Thagrosh's last statement about not trying to control the crystal is true, he looks at it like a savior of his life. Without it he could never be the fighter he is, and that power is addicting to him.

[Vegna]

Kaynebot /Thagrosh

“I just thought that some friendly competition was in order for your 'demon'. Who knows, if I'm around next time you're hungering for another of those gems, perhaps I'll blow you through a wall and let some other hopeful get all big and grey and you guys can have a royal rumble. Heh heh. Hmm, the mob? Eh, not really invested to be honest, good luck though, maybe you can beat your demon if you're smart enough to not get killed by a thousand angry souls. I'll see you around, maybe.”

The invisible presence begins to fade above Thagrosh, the entity leaving as quickly as it appeared, vaguely moving east of the estate. There is little time if Thagrosh has anything else to say to it, otherwise it leaves with a short gust of wind blowing the remaining pair a little unsteady.

Kylona continues to glare as you issue your commands, her lips tight with displeasure. “You have made you point, I will not flee.” She probably will at the first chance, its not like she'd want to hang around with a psychotic killer like yourself, but now is not that chance. At least with your stone foot, you couldn't complain that she would slow you down. The mob is getting closer, but you can still here the monotonous voice of the crystal, as its speaks into your skull.

“You do not know the area, but your plan seems sufficient. How far do you intend to carry the Lord, as a shield against any further Lord or as a bartering tool to find safer transport off of this island. The mob may pass over some of poorer areas of the city, if you wish to hide there. But to evade your demon, then perhaps journey to another island, one where you could find allies or prepare a stage of combat. I do not know of any ways to stop what has happened to the demon, as you do not, perhaps if you could find someone to analyse what I am. However, that might require surrendering me to another and trusting that they would not implant me as so many others have. All I know is that your counterpart seems to have failed.”

At this point, the fastest members of the rabble can be seen to turn the corner, their eyes filled with murderous rage with bloody scratches across their muddy skin. One of them gestures with a iron crowbar, towards you and the Lord, as the handful of men and women start to run down the street after the pair of you.

Raunchel/Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

As the clash of battle fills with in thick scent of fresh blood-shed and screams of death, the number of lowly rebels that attempt to assault the Lord Hastur-Vartul steadily grows. With the aid of Almace and her heightened hearing separating the pad-falls of peasant's shoes from the iron clink of the house guard's attire, few are able to do more than simply swing their dumb fists at her person. They only receive a taste of steel, as your captain and a trio of your guards move to protect you as is their duty. The hordes screams are barely audible, but a few words recur enough that they reverberate almost around you.

“Lord. Gut. Kill. Take. Take. TAKE.”

Their issues appear strongly directed at yourself, your presence giving the mob some semblance of order as every rebellious soul that makes it over your wall seems to focus their efforts on attack you. Guardsmen that stand in their way still have their hands full with fighting, especially the men on the ladders as one is dragged over and into the swarm beyond his allies reach, but once they are over, they immediately try to strike at the Lord attendant rather than fight to open the gates. One manages to grab a filthy hand at your hair, before the offending limb is separated from its owner with a swing of Almace.

The ominous that followed your Grandfather blows loudly again, hard like sky itself was a part of the melee. The gust pushes with a chilling force, even in your undead bones, pausing the fight for a brief moment as the contenders steadied their feet against being blown down. Those on the ladders find themselves either dangling from the wall or fallen alongside their narrow platforms, as the traitorous weather has sent their wooden ladders clattering against the marble pavement.

The battle grows more desperate as the walls are now unguarded, the rioters spreading over the artistic barrier and pouring into your courtyard. Yildiz's ring has protected her from the worst of any injury as she stays at your side, but she is neither a fighter nor does her long hair afford her any favours, relying on your guards and your own fighting capabilities.

More and more guards starting to form a ring alongside you, risking the chance of being boxed in exchange for the protection the formation offers. Meanwhile, your grandfather seems to have taken position within the ring behind you, silently monitoring the battle with nary a punch thrown, judging your combat skills. Another guard's clattering footfalls starts to approach the formation, his breath pained as he moves alongside you.

“May I ha-have this position, my Lord, to f-fight at your side?”

He asks before turning to cut another rioter that was charging for you. There is a brief tussle on the floor, until the guard's sable punctures the dirty woman's heart. He lets out a chuckle, then edges back into the shrinking defensive circle. Each arm continues to cut and wrestle against the horde that laps against its edge, but those around you are only human and their arms grow tired against a force that replaces each lost fist with another. You feel your shoulder press beside your captain's, as his voice rumbles with an edge of caution.

“My Lord, we may be better protect ourselves within the walls of your manor. Out here and without the ladders to stem the -HYAH!- enemy, they have the advantage in melee.”

The men will fight, and possibly die, here until you command otherwise, as the remaining thirty soldiers become increasingly boxed in together. Even your own sword swings have become narrower, lest you accidentally cleave through the men beside you, making it harder to freely cut towards the mob's noise. However, whilst running to the manor, some of your more tired men could be caught by the lighter rioters, but whoever made it inside would be able to funnel the remaining horde much easier. The captain awaits your orders.

GuyFawkes/Levi T. Pendegraph

“I could, erm, afford something in the range ooof, shall we say, eight kilos of gold? I could possibly move to ten if the vessel was exceedingly good, b-but I would need to check with my associate to ensure that amount c-can be paid. Per vessel, of course. A-and they would need to be as water-tight as you can provide. Each grain of sand we lose is wasted back in the ocean.”

At eight kilos, there was no way Beach could have afforded the dragon galleon, much less anything sizeable from this auction. But he must have money to afford ships in this city, so he can hardly be a beggar merchant. Cassandra gently strokes Levi's leg with the sheathed blade, as Beach mumbles away his numbers, giving a teasing smile that suggests she'd be happy to be your arm candy again, if you wanted. Whether or not Levi does want her company again is something he has only time to consider, as a scream fills the air, coming from the ladies' room. Cassandra looks at you in worry, before letting go of Beach and yelling,

“Louise!”

She withdraws the blade from its scabbard, throwing it's expensive sheath aside before running in the direction of the bathroom in an effort to stop what ever is assailing her friend. Beach only looks more nervous than he already was, watching a trio of guards follow Cassandra, though the pair that removed the gluttonous gentleman seem to have not returned yet. This leaves only another three guards in the room, moving about to inform the guests to remain calm, that everything was under control. The Auctioneer seems frustrated by the turn of events, such a pleasant and successful auction having been ruined by rough housing and poor table manners.

Hanya's refusal to be struck only angers the psychotic guard further, the goon now snarling as he tackles the young bodyguard against the wall, with his spear held wide. Hanya's hands quickly catch the wooden pole, wrestling against the guard as they try to push the spear back in the other fighter's direction. The man's teeth start to snap, trying to bite at Hanya's nose, an underhanded and feral trick.

"I'll bite your face off, you smug prick!"

The spear pole keeps the man's mouth a few inches away from the smuggler's face, but the man just won't let up. He seem dedicated to crushing a young man he only met a few seconds ago.

[Raunchel]

Serdynage Hastur-Vartul
They hate me. They truly hate me. Their fury resounds through the air, something has happened to the poor. Normally they would be scared off, but this is different. They seem almost mindless, there must be something behind all this. Something sinister. In the outer parts of the manor there isn’t much to be looted and destroyed, at least not by my standards. If only my fortress would have been ready, they would never take that. But they could still hurt my other house, this house. It is unacceptable. My home should be the safe place for me to be, unvisited by these ruffians. Where do they all come from? The deaths of so many should scare them, terrify them. They shouldn’t persist. What sort of mob is this?

One of them even touched me. It is too distasteful for words. I want them dead. Some peculiar kind of rage comes over me, driving me to destroy them all in a torrent of blood. I force it away, that would only lead to far greater complications.

“Be as kind as to withdraw to the main building. Our numbers are too few to hold them here. Make it orderly, there is no need to lose too many of the men, and I fear that running isn’t exactly my strength.”

The men do as they are told, their discipline is strong, which is good. They need it against such a mob. I hear glass break, it hurts me almost as though the glass cuts me. I hope that the century old stained glass of the Gavayan apartments remains intact. I never understood what made them so beautiful, but I have heard others speak highly of them. To have them destroyed would hurt even more. I add up the costs in my head, this is truly a disaster. To restore the manor will be a highly expensive undertaking, and it will be expected of me. Perhaps I should modify my plans and fortify this place first? I am sorely tempted to do so.

We reach the safety of the doors, and the men form up at the door, closing it proved impossible due to the press of bodies. The buildings were already built to withstand such events as these, the larger windows are on the higher floors, but still. A group of men form up at the door, others drag furniture there to serve as a barricade. Where are the reinforcements? And how is the Hastur manor? Are they under attack as well? I need information, and I need it soon. “Yildiz, I wish to be clad in my mithral and gold. Let these ruffians know that they are faced with the lord of two of this city’s greatest houses.I might not see, but Almace serves the lord of its house like it always did.”

I then address the captain: “Secure the windows, also on the higher floors. These scum cannot be allowed to enter through such a way. I want the remaining archers behind them, and have boiling oil prepared in the kitchens. I will not let them do damage to the house of my forefathers.”

I can’t speak to Grandfather, not here, not in this press of bodies, but I have an excuse to withdraw temporarily. We head to my chambers, where the ancient armour already is prepared for my. It is the Vartul armour, and hasn’t been worn in battle for sixty years. Somehow it reshapes whenever there is a new lord. The Vartuls always were a more martial family than the Hasturs, from that side I haven’t inherited such grand tools of war. Of course, the cost of the sword or the armour could also pay for dozens of ships. And ships bring in far more money than swords in an armoury do. Nevertheless they are potent symbols of my power, and given the danger, I should be seen in them.

In my private rooms, which face the courtyard and not the outer walls I can speak freely again while I am helped out of my damaged and bloody dress: “Grandfather, that wind is most peculiar, do you by any chance know what might cause it?”

Xanthe wipes the blood from my face while Yildiz first helps me with the armour. Its magical nature makes it very easy to put on. Yildiz holds the plates to my body and they remain attached. They feel soft and light, their insides containing fine silk cushions that are always in perfect repair and cleanliness, even after a day in the armour. Finally she places the helmet over my head. Somehow I can still hear as though it wasn’t there. I move my fingers, one by one. It has been years ago since I have worn any armour, I will certainly make an impression now. “Xanthe, Yildiz, please take your own suits, I will not see you hurt. Remain behind me and inform me of anything that happens.”

They have their own armours, forged by good smiths, but not the best in the city, they are always working directly for great lords and foreign princes. But still, it should protect them. Yildiz occasionally practices in hers, but Xanthe hardly ever wears the heavy plates. She doesn’t need speed now, speed will do nothing when surrounded and stones fly through the air. But steel will keep them safe. Any threat I will kill. If necessary I will hold out on my own, the armour fully encloses me and not even the sun can touch me in it. I don’t want to, but I could fight on for the whole night.

“And Grandfather, do you happen to know what caused this riot? It is a most peculiar one.”

After he has answered me I return downstairs. The girls will be busy for a while, but they will be safe. Now it is time for me to take my fate in my own hands. I call: ”Brave men! We are surrounded by thiefs, looters and murderers. But we will not give in to them. They are lawbreakers and I condemn them to death. Do not let any of them pass by you, do not show mercy.”

Someone in full armour is practically invulnerable, and that is just regular armour. Someone wearing one of the finest suits of the great families of Bardocas is another category entirely. Not even a lance wielded by a rider going at full speed could hurt me. Even the usual weak spot of the eyeslit has disappeared from the helmet for me. Only the strength of a giant could harm me now. A silk skirt decorated with gold thread stitching falls from the armour. I am a lady and will bear myself with the dignity that I have been born with. The captain helps me back to the front. I hear soft blows to the armour, and reply with the sword. Everything in front of me is the enemy, and I will not spare them. I shout: “I am Serdynage Hastur-Vartul, scion of two great families! I wield Almace, the sword of a thousand years. I wear mithral and gold, like my ancestors wore when they fought the great battles of this city. I uphold the ancient laws.”

I cut again, and am rewarded with screams. “Surrender now or you will be summarily judged in the manner of the field!”

[GuyFawkes]

Levi T. Pendegraph

Levi shrugged. "Why not? That's a great deal! Let's make that happen!" he said, clasping the man's hand with his to shake it.

"Again, please consult with our office. Just tell them everything about your request. I will be writing them as well about it, and be constantly communicating with them regarding the designs. I like to keep a hands-on approach, if however possible I can, with our work," he finishes with a grin, to Beach, then towards Cassandra.

Levi was about to end the conversation as he already saw Kravitz when a scream came from somewhere. With a glance from Levi, Kravitz immediately came closer.

"Don't worry, sir. My trusty aide is here. She will not let any harm come to you. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll just check on my other companion," he told Beach with a pat on the shoulder. He then pulled Kravitz closer and whispered, "Stay here. Try to help if there's any trouble, but just bail out if it's too much trouble. I'll check the back storage."

With a smile, he parted ways with the sand merchant and slowly slunk back into the background, when most of the attention was on the source of the scream. Carefully he slid past the crowd and made his way to the storage room.

Back outside, Hanya calmly held back the crazed guard back with the spear as he observed the situation. Normally he was the stupid oaf, but when the situation came to something like this, his mind was far more acute and in tune. He thought about the crazy pot-bellied man and this guy in front of him, how they were similarly trying to just bite off anything. Maybe somehow it was connected, but how, he did not know. He could think fast, but there was no denying he was still the stupid oaf that he was.

Before the crazy guard could do anything else, Hanya knew it was best to put him away, and quickly. This at the very least he knew: being near this man was bad news.

Hanya began to push back with the spear, then his right knee rose like lightning, connecting with the crazy guard's midsection. Using the distraction, he pushed harder then instantly jerked the spear away in the opposite direction, freeing it from the man's grasp. Without wasting a single moment, he spun on his left heel, then with the spear extended, he used the momentum of the turn to deliver a heavy blow to the back of the crazy guard's head before stepping back and assessing the efficacy of his attack.

[Vegna]

Raunchel/Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

“Fall back to the manor! Maintain circle formation around your Lord!”

The captain calls forcefully, the surrounding guards appearing to smile with what little enthusiasm they have left. They do their best to protect you in a ragged formation, but despite their best efforts to stay with the other runners, the sounds of crashing armour and screaming soldiers comes from the horde's direction. The captain continues to shout orders, holding the survivors together as you cross the front lawn.

“Keep running, if you stop, you are dead! If someone falls, you run or you make his death ****ing pointless!”

The padding of feet on your tortured carpet draws mercifully close, your guards moving to cover the opening with their spears and a few bows firing over their shoulders. A few fresh warriors have emerged from your house, piling in to impale any of the following rioters. The run has made both sides tied, but now your men can be rotated to reduced to tire and strain, whilst the poor only become more ragged and weakened with their unending desire to end you. As you dress into your splendid war attire, your grandfather emerges beside you to answers your queries, apparently uninjured from the melee.

“The wind is unfortunate, but I don't believe it is more than poor luck. This rabble seems too disorganized to have a weather crafter behind them, its all too base. So very primal. In fact, the rabble is acting on base emotion, which makes things all the stranger. No leaders shouting death to the lords, no one pushing them on despite the odds, exhaustion and death. They all just totally wish for your death, the only exception being if someone is trying to get in their way. A mental enchantment would be inefficient for such a large number, especially when the mob is stretched across Bardocas. But their minds are definitely not their own. A thorough autopsy would tell much, if any of the mob could be captured. Aside from any reserved for your training of course, though at their current rate, I wouldn't be surprised if they all died from the effort they keep giving.”

Xanthe and Yildiz take their time help each other into the armour piece by piece, taking several minutes to complete their protective coating. Xanthe walks awkwardly, her armour well-fitting but her poverty-ravaged body still far from the strength of a nutritional supplied lord, though when you had taken off of the streets, she would have likely suffocated in the armour's confines. Yildiz has found herself a mace to protect herself with as well, moving with great enough to take a practice swing.

As you return to the fray, the pile of dead rebels appears to be adding to the barricade, the guards casualties having greatly reduced thanks to the improved method of defence. Only a lone soldier salutes you from the stairs with a wounded hand, the rest of your guard having fully utilized the length of their spears and the barricade. With your speech and enthusiasm, the men rally a last effort into the finally tapering riotous force, cheering alongside you as the last of the horde falls beneath sword, sabre and spear. Your exhausted captain informs you that now only the slowest of the mob are still approaching the manor, ones either overweight or infirm, but still slowly trying to reach you. The archers can easily pick them off, or this could be the chance to capture one such rebel.

Before you can give an order with regards to the stragglers, a sudden yelp comes from behind you, tired blades being drawn again as a guardsman yells defiantly,

“Let go of me, get the fu- urk . . .”

“Unhand Peterson! We should have known that you were a traitor, now get down on the floor before we run you through!”

“I can assure you, I acted for your Lord. Peterson here was about to foolhardily attempt to impale Lord Hastur-Vartul.”

“Her armour is impenetrable, even as a traitor, Peterson couldn't be so stupid to try that. Let go of him, or we will take your hands.”

“Your Lord trusts my judgement, so I would rescind that offer. Lord Hastur-Vartul, perhaps young Peterson here could be a suitable 'alternative'.”

It seems that Grandfather has disabled one of your guards, something the Captain isn't taking too kindly to, considering the soldier spent the entire fight protecting your life whilst Grandfather has not acted until now. His action could be demonstrating to your men that you trust his judgement more than the Captain, a stranger over their own, or he simply picked the first opportunity to grab a live one that he could. Peterson could be a very healthy subject to test your powers on however, even more so than the tired peasants approaching your door.

GuyFawkes/Levi T. Pendegraph

Beach smiles nervously before his expression drops from the growing chaos. He turns to Kravitz, as Levi disappears within the guests and beyond their vision, noting her practical attire.

“You a-are an experience fighter, r-right? You've fought to protect Pendegraph and ships from pirates and monsters before, so you can handle anything in an auction toilet, yeah? Heh heh.”

The auction crowd shifts nervously, as the guards leave to tackle the screaming. Some start to move for the exits, but the auctioneer is making obvious attempts to keep them in the building and hold this party together. The engaged couple, plus parents, are huddling close around to the exit, ready to take the rest of their business with them. A gentleman red faced with wine is loudly offering to deal with the fiends personally, despite the pleas of his wife to just sit down and be quiet.

The ruckus starts to grow louder now, Cassandra dragging her friend out of the women's bathroom, their hair now messed and slightly bloodied. Twelve-Fingered Tandy's blade is now slick with a thin coating of crimson, dripping as she push through the crowd towards Kravitz. She looks annoyed Levi's departure, either hoping to sponge some sympathy from the 'merchant' or that he made no effort to assist, less heroism than she expected from the godly Mr Pendegraph.

“Where is Mr Pendegraph gone, already run at the first sign of trouble?”

“Yes, where is Levi? Where is Levi? Tell me where Levi is.”

Louise is speaking low, her voice's pitch slowly rising in intensity as her head raises to glare at Kravitz, eyes locked and mouth contorting angrily.

Levi slips behind a passing guard, as the trouble near the hall calls for more security. The distraction has fortunately left the entrance to the storage section unguarded, allowing you to move into the darkened warehouse section without a witness. The room is lit with burning glass, an expensive and waste-less alternative to tar or wood, a constant blue flickering from the embedded torches above the goods below. The shape of St. Gareth stands within the aqua shadows, his trident lifted in victory over the dust pirate, Jultan. His brow is stern, gazing in your direction with determination in his foot tall marble figure. Glittering with its own light sits a duplicate sun-stone to the married-to-be couple sits within a transparent case, its own reflection repeating over and over inside as if part of a great array of stars. A worn, wooden cube, as large as a desk, sits beside the statuette. Its body a mixture of interlocking squares and rectangles, some raised, others embedded and carved into the wood work, Beach's puzzle crate by most odds. The last prominent object is a grey mandala, a painting created with purely black sand pressed between glass to hold its shape, depicting a great mountain-like creature.

The sound of clicking coins touches Levi's ears, coupled with the heavy breathing. After realising that the source does not appear to be moving or aware of him, a further discrete venture finds him one of the guards, sitting on the floor beside an open chest of golden doubloons. He seems at first to be enraptured in playing with handfuls of coins, letting them fall through his hands like many a hard earned smuggler might do, until Levi realises why the man is breathing so hard. He is stuffing the coins into his mouth, trying to eat them with each pudgy fistful, clicking between his teeth.

The blow Hanya delivers is sound, the crazed guard falling to the floor as consciousness leaves him. Finally silent, aside from the crash of his metal armour against stone, a distant noise is now audible to Hanya coming from the direction of the slums. A faint calling of screams and roars, carried on the winds and gently rising. The city guards do not appear to be returning from that source, the stream of soldiers having now dried up to meet whatever it was. Now Hanya is all to himself, with two dead and one unconscious body at his feet.

[Raunchel]

Serdynage Hastur-Vartul
They indeed mindlessly seek me out, as though the masses have been enchanted to destroy the rules of Bardocas, and thereby the entire city. There are several possible culprits. It could be a reckless lord who wants to eliminate his rivals by employing such magic. Such a person would have the resources to do such a thing. But this requires immense magical means, and I am not aware of any of my rivals devoting so much to such studies. It remains possible, but unlikely. Then there is the possibility of an outside attack. Bardocas is a great city, the greatest in the world, and there are many who seek to take its place. But these lesser cities could hardly organize such a thing, this cannot be the work of a collective, especially not a diffuse one like a community. No, there has to be a strict organization behind it, perhaps one of the island kings? There are many of those, but they are mostly insignificant. Whoever is responsible chose to act with stealth, to be able to deny involvement in the case of failure. Something that would be absent in a more direct attack. That means that the responsible party is vulnerable, and could be found. And it almost certainly is no spell that did this, it would require immense magical prowess, only the greatest magicians the archipelago has ever known could do such a thing. And even then, there would be more direction to what is happening, more massed, that is easier to control. No, if I would be making a guess I would think about a magical substance fed to the people, perhaps even over time. That would be far simpler, it only requires immense logistics and wealth, but those are easier to find than great magical power. And this wind, it is peculiar. Perhaps the changes have been brought by this wind? No, it has to be something specific to the poor, they are rising, if it was the air my servants would also have attacked. But I don’t believe in coincidence, and a strange wind combined with a strange behavior is just too peculiar to not be connected. But what distinguishes the dregs from the people? Of course there is the dole, but not all of them use it. That has to be it, the dole was tainted by whatever this is and this wind, it triggers the changes.

If that is the case I am drawn to another question, how long will all this persist? Is it just for one night or will they remain like this. If that is the case it is a terrible problem. They will be hunted down and killed, but the loss of those scum would diminish the cheap workforce, and that would mean higher wages, which I would have to pay. That is unacceptable, I simply will not pay them more. They already have the dole, and I even provide some housing. Further expenses would increase the costs of using them and that would eat into my profits. Not by much, but still. I won’t let my business be disturbed by this.

I reply to my grandfather: “I am indeed most curious about what is causing this. It could hamper by current efforts and I have to wish to have my city in ruins. It is not only bad for business, but also for my long term position. If this is too disastrous I might even be forced to relocate to one of my other holdings, and that would be a terrible disgrace. Such actions could hurt my sanding for years and it might take decades to recover from such a blow. I do not intend to spend decades recovering while I could be spending them advancing my position and gaining greater security. Captives will be needed to answer my questions, to me that is the greatest priority now.”

It is good to hear that Yildiz and Xanthe are prepared. They are no warriors, but it is better than being unarmored when weapons are being used. I don’t want to lose them, and not just because of the investment that they represent, for some reason I actually feel like losing any of them would hurt me. I realize it now, and that is peculiar. Of course, this is one of the first times that they truly are at risk while I have some moments to think, but still.

When I go back downstairs, Grandfather starts a disturbance, at least, I think he did. I didn’t hear anything, but it is easy to miss little things when I’m not listening for it and there are plenty of distractions all around me. I hate this kind of situation, where there is no right answer, and where I am sorely restricted in the decision that I can make. I sigh, as the lord that I am should, turning towards the disturbance: “Master Witschel here has been in my employ for several years now, helping me with delicate matters. This riot is most extraordinary, they seem utterly devoted to destroying us, unlike on previous such occasions. This gave their attack great strength, but also provided their weakness. Such a riot is not caused by demagogues, but by something more sinister. Such a force could also have reached one of you, my brave guardians. I will not permit any kind of execution until more is known, but I do want him restrained for questioning. And I demand to know what is happening here. These thugs are worthless, they lack your strength and weapons. I wish to have them subdued and brought to the dungeons for interrogations.”

[GuyFawkes]

Levi T. Pendegraph

"Not good. Not. Good." Hanya spoke to himself as he looked at the direction of the slums and then to the bodies on the ground. Maybe there was some kind of connection. Chaos was always like that, if he ever learned anything from the battlefield. There was always something that connects seemingly-random events. But that was all his meager brain could handle at once. He decided to leave that to Levi and Kravitz ages ago, so why start now.

Not wasting more time, he threw the spear to the ground walked back briskly towards the tent entrance.

Back inside, Kravits looked at Beach and answered his question with just a smile, but the smile disappeared as she turned back to face the direction of the source of the ruckus. She looked stoically as the two girls emerged, roughed up and bloodied, and still so as they asked her where Levi went.

"He may be an idiot, but Mr. Pendegraph is no coward," she replied with a steely gaze, then a sudden relaxation as she surprises herself with her own reaction. "He went off to see the cause of all this. He left me to handle the small fry. Now tell me what happened."

On the other side of the room, at the entrance, Hanya emerged, walking in a rush. He didn't appear to have that usual goofy face he had on. Quickly he scanned the room for Kravitz and Levi, and when he saw his sister, he walked towards her.

"Hey, Kravitz!" he called out as he came closer, and then stopped beside her. "Come on, we need to go. Something's up outside. Not good. Not. Good," he said in a low voice. 'Hey, where's Levi? And oh, why hello there, ladies."

Deeper inside, in the auction storage room, Levi looked around for any object that took his fancy. When he chanced upon the sun-stone, he just spent one second looking at it then decided he liked it, so he stepped forward and snatched it from where it sat, deftly pocketing it in one swift motion. Not unlike what he would do under the presence of so many people.

As he moved on, he thought he heard the sound of coins clinking, and he stopped. His ears were more open than his eyes, and he listened. When it came again, he breathed out slowly, noticing how he unconsciously held his breath in. He listened to where the sound came and moved closer, until he saw the source. lone guard playing with the gold doubloons in a chest. Or was he only playing with them? Levi squinted his eyes, and grinned as he saw the guard actually stuff his mouth with the coins.

Well, ain't that something? And I thought I was greedy.

Shaking his head, he decided to step back and backtrack where he came from. Sure the gold was a waste, but he could find gold anywhere. And he didn't want to bother dealing with the guard. That's what he had the Twins around for. He was lazy like that. Slowly, and as deftly as he did coming in, he made his way back to the entrance.

[Vegna]

Raunchel/Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

“As you command, my Lord.”

You can practically hear your grandfather's smile as you accommodate an alias for him, picking up the unconscious guard into a more upright stance and dragging him away from the battle-lines to somewhere secure. Your captain salutes you, taking your orders tight-lipped but without a word of complaint, quickly rallying his men to capture the remaining stragglers. The surviving guards are far from their best, their breath ragged and hair limp with sweat, but with the blunt ends of their spears, they succeed in subduing another five rebels for you and your grandfather to utilize. No surviving guards are found outside, their skulls reduced to crimson smears against the white marble.

The Captain arranges the prisoners to be placed in the dungeon's deepest holding cells, manacled and gagged to avoid their habit of biting and screaming obscenities disturbing the household. Peterson is placed in one of such cell alongside the scum, much to his friends displeasure at being tarred with the same brush, but it is just post-battle grumbles. Once the men are rested and fed, their morale will improve again.

Xanthe appears to be shaking in her armour, unaccustomed to the savagery of bloody battle. To be fair, few of your guards have even fought to kill before in their entire lives. If not for your leadership and example, they would have probably fled once the invaders manage to break through the wall's defence. The youngest of your attendants is sniffling as she tries to hold back her tears in front of you, residing to sit on one of the barricade chairs and try to dry her eyes in privacy.

Yildiz has your side as always, her mace unbloodied and at her hip. She is obviously shaken as well, but commands the servants to begin clearing the damaged scenery. Broken glass is being swept up and furniture returned to proper places, most of it can be easily repaired if you wish, though most Lords would choose to simply buy replacements rather than suffer unsightly or faintly scratched property.

The last immediate issue remains the state of the Hastur estate, as no runner has returned with news. If they were currently still fighting the mad rebels, then a messenger may be difficult to send at the moment, and they did not enjoy the assistance of their Lord to keep morale or fight alongside them. Yildiz suggests that you wait for the runner you sent to return, perhaps nervous to know the news in case it is bad. Reinforcements are out of the question as your own house guard is exhausted. A forced march would leave them without the strength to hold their weapons, only you and your grandfather's undead nature have left you both tireless.

(Otherwise, the immediate danger has left now. Serdynage is free to make arrangements, give orders and inspect or test on the captives at her leisure.)

GuyFawkes/Levi T. Pendegraph

The stupidest member of the smuggling trio returns inside the auction hall to the sound of an unseen scuffle, unhappy guests and an exasperated Auctioneer who spots him re-entering the establishment.

“Ah, boy, where are the security I hired? Did you see them? They were escorting out a difficult guest, please tell me they are returning to help us in here. I need every hand I can get to keep this crowd feeling secure.”

Behind the Auctioneer's bobbing head, Hanya spots Kravitz and her small entourage of a very sweaty man and the two lovely girls that Levi had shared with him earlier. Although the blood and ruined hair does spoil their appearance somewhat.

Cassandra returns the glare, not in the mood to hide her displeasure at having to fight or ignore Kravitz's comment.

“Small Fry?!”

“Small fry?”

Cassandra and Mr Beach speak in unison, Cassandra's tone filled with obvious offence, whilst Beach speaks with almost sad surprise. The brief shock of their echoing does distract some of the immediate feelings, before the escort turns back to face the bodyguard.

“There was a pair of drunk or drugged up ass-holes in the women's wash-room. ****ers must've been waiting and tried to jump Louise when she went in. Trying to lick her or kiss her, so when I saw 'em . . .”

She gestures to the blood on the Twelve-Finger Tandy's sword.

“Didn't kill anyone, but they'll have trouble walking properly for a while. Guards came in and we tried to get away, then the two of 'em started grabbing at the guards, biting ankles and licking again. Just got my girl out of there, let the pro's take care of 'em.”

As Hanya rejoins the group, he recognises the mad eyes in Louise's skull, piercing into Kravitz with murderous intent. Louise leaps at Kravitz, fists balled to hammer against the bodyguard's face, cheeks turning red with anger.

“TELL ME WHERE LEVI IS! ANSWER ME!”

As Levi turn back towards the hall, he can hear the sound of his voice being called for. It sounds like two women fighting over him, such is the life of a dashing smuggler like himself to leave a trail of cat-fights in his wake. The guests are crowding around the fight, obscuring his vision of the ladies, though he is able to see what the rest don't. Stepping from the women's wash-room, five bloodied guards, mouths washed crimson with blood and dripping with flesh. They are slowly approaching the crowd, their stained weapons raised as they prepare to let out a inhuman roar. A pair of men are dragging themselves behind the frenzied guards, their legs cut and hands roughly bound, crawling like worms behind beasts.

[Kaynebot]

Thagrosh growls at the mention of giving the crystal up. I have spent years of my life chasing you down, and killing for you. I could not, and would not let you go again. So yeah, I'll zig zag down a couple alleyways and see what can be done. First lets deal with these few though. Hoisting Kylona up on his shoulder, he charges the few people down the street, figuring if he gruesomely killed a few maybe it could deter the rest or at least give him some time to get away. One hand holding Kylona up the other had Rapture in hand. He killed them swiftly. The men he killed as gruesomely as could quickly and the women, by some sense of corrupted honor, he tried not to kill. A couple died from the tremendous force of the impact though. And as quickly as he spotted them they were dead. He limped towards the nearest alleyway. "If you know your way around that might save the lives of both us...well more likely just you." Thagrosh concentrates, on moving through the alleways. Any dead ends, he tries to climb or back tracks. Weaving through the maze his mind wonders back, Well, we could always experiment. Do you know where other crystals are? That might be a good place to run too while waiting for the demon to find us. A thought came into Thagrosh's mind, while still carrying Kylona and limping along, his breath still even. "Lord, you found the object that I have repossessed, for it was mine first. But I'm more curious about how you found it."

[GuyFawkes]

Levi T. Pendegraph

"Ah, uhm, well. They are still occupied outside," Hanya managed to make up on the spot, smiling sheepishly as he told the auctioneer. "But don't worry! My sister and I will be more than enough to handle anything!" he tried to assure the man.

Kravitz, on the other hand, sighed as the two girls and Mr. Beach reacted rather wrongly. "By small fry, I meant those trouble makers. They aren't random as you think," Kravits said, also making things up as she went on. "Obviously, they are small fry. It appears you made short work of them regardless of your earlier remarks of having no training."

While the others talked, Hanya observed, and while he was focusing more on admiring the girls's assets despite the situation, he could not miss the same eyes the fatso and the guard outside had on Louise, full with murderous intent. He stepped forward as the girl leaped towards his sister but did nothing, as even Kravitz did not do anything at all, confident the girl was no threat at her. But somehow something about what happened outside made him grab Kravitz's hand and yank her back, away from any contact with the girl. This prompted Kravitz to look her brother with a quizzical look, earning a shake of the head from Hanya as response.

"Yeah, not sure, but don't let them hit you or grab you. There's something going on here...I'm not su-"

From behind them, Levi suddenly burst through the crowd, running and tapping them both on the shoulder, interrupting Hanya mid-sentence.

"Hey, trouble!" he said, his voice a bit louder from the shortness of breath. "There!" he added, pointing at the direction of the washroom. "They got weapons. Go all out!"

With only that, the Twins immediately caught on the urgency of Levi's words. They simply looked at each other for a split second and nodded before moving into action. The two split up, circling to the sides of the girls, Hanya to their left and Kravitz to their right. As soon as he got to Louise's side, Hanya gave a lightning-fast blow to the girl's nape with the butt of a pistol. Taking a cue from his brother, Kravitz drew from her belt a dagger and hit Cassie with its hilt at almost the same spot. In the next heartbeat, they were bounding through tables and chairs and people, weapons drawn, towards the direction of the washroom with uncanny speed and agility.

It did not take them long to spot their targets: the guards, or former guards, as now their mouths were bloodied and their countenance filled with rage, read to strike down anyone in their path. Hanya immediately fired off two pistol rounds aimed at the weapons of the two at the back while Kravitz lunged in with her rapier, thrusting at the nearest guard's wrist to disarm him.

Meanwhile, Levi grabbed Mr. Beach and pushed the man behind him, putting himself in between the commotion and his potential client. His mind stressed on "potential", so he had to look good. He bent down and took Tandy's sword from the unconscious Louise, whispering "Sorry, hun," as he did so, then straightened up and put the weapon before him.

"Do not worry, Mr. Beach. My bodyguards can handle this. The best fighters you can find in these waters," he said and gave the man a sideways glance and a grin. "And not to mention myself."

[Raunchel]

Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

My most immediate concern is the safety of Lucinda and Ophelia. They are the assets that I can least afford to lose. If only the construction work had been ready, then they would have been as invulnerable to this mob as I am. But I cannot go there. I simply do not know the way, and I don’t yet trust Grandfather that much. No, I will have to stay here. But there are things to do. And answers to get. That has the highest priority, I have to know what is happening in the city. First to know how to extricate myself and my possessions from this debacle, and then to make a profit from it. Surely some of my rivals will have suffered terribly, perhaps even died. And with enough death going around, I would stand to inherit more titles, and either way, I will have an edge over unprepared successors.

I have to speak to these prisoners, and I want to know about the Hastur manor. The runner might have been intercepted, but this place cannot be abandoned, the loss of face alone makes me shudder. More rioters could arrive at any moment, and I must be prepared for them. But I am also deeply worried. “Master Witschel, would you kindly accompany me and assist in the interrogation of these dregs. I wish to know what is causing all this. Captain, please place sentries on the wall so early warning may be gained of further attacks. And my dear Yildiz, please see to the valuables, have as much as possible brought into the main building.”

Then I head down the stairs into the dungeon, led by the still rattling Xanthe and followed by my dear Grandfather. As soon as we are alone I turn her around: “Xanthe, I am really proud of you, you are a brave girl and you have helped a lot these last few hours. And it will soon be over, and when it is, we will return to the Hastur manor, which should be perfectly safe and intact, and we will rebuild and complete the plans. If you want me to I will also get you a fencing master, so you can learn how to wear that armour. I am sorry for not doing so before, but I had not expected this to happen. And to keep in mind that the suit that you are wearing can stop any mortal blow, the plates are strong and will not let anything through.”

I kiss her on her forehead before we continue to the cells. I whisper: “This Peterson, was he truly a threat or was he merely useful?”

Either way, I am escorted into the first of the cells, containing a pair of prisoners. I pull of the gag from one of them and start to ask my questions: “Who are you, where are you from, why did you attack my house?”

I will ask them, and if they fail to answer they will suffer terrible pains as I slowly cut the first apart with a knife. They are bound so there can be no escape, and I will have my answers.

[Vegna]

Kaynebot /Thagrosh

The Lord Kylona gives a resistant yelp as you throw her onto your shoulder like a sack of ore. She clenches her fists, as if desiring to swing at your skull, but it would be no use. Instead she grabs Rapture's sheath to steady her self as best as she can, not wanting to fall face-first against the stone. Her voice rises again in realisation that you aren't running away, but towards the group of rebels.

“What are you doing?! Don't! Get us away!”

Rapture cleaves a line of gore through the crowd, their eyes wide and angry even as death robs them of their strength. They make no effort to block or dodge your attack, not that they could have if they tried, only their dirty fingers reach out to grasp at you. The pile of bodies soon stops twitching, though an armless woman still tries to attack you for a moment, before smash your weapon against her head.

Kylona continues to shout obscenities before you shake her into silence. Your stone foot clacks against the noble's road, fresh blood splattered on top of the dried remains of your captive's security. She is too well-raised to show fear, but she physically trembles from her reduction from being able to fight with her own magic to relying solely on your dangerous protection.

“Turn down that path, its close together so the mob hopefully won't see us.”

You can hear the rabble turning onto the street as you and your hostage slip between the alleyway, their angry tongues screaming, “KYLONA. RICHES. KILL. KILL. TAKE!” in a cacophony of voices. They fade towards the estate, as the voice within your mind reponds,

“Do you know where the crystals are, Thagrosh?” Was the crystal using sarcasm at you? “The demon seemed to know where the crystal was, despite its location, especially so specifically being uncommon knowledge. With his higher concentration of crystal mutation, he maybe to sense their location. If you could find another such gem, it would be a useful lure. That is, if he cannot detect you already.”

You cannot see the Lord Kylona's expression, but her voice shakes with irritation and your irregular steps, “Obviously where you last left it. I mean, you go there, then left. It was discovered by gnomes. They were demonstrating a mining device of theirs that they claimed could dig straight into the root of the island, right at the ocean's bottom. Their invention failed, as it struck that gem, cracking their drill. It was retrieved and after the stories surrounding it, I made sure to add to my collection. The gnome claim their drill was at exactly ocean level, when it clashed with my- the gem.”

The gem chimes into the conversation, inside your brain, “It was warm, like your sleep. Until the metal opened me to the emptiness of air, the void. It was unpleasant.”

As you exit the following street, you can see the lights of the Lord's harbour. Still several minutes away at a push, but you might just do it. You also spot a robed figure standing in front of a large hall-like building. He throws another lit torch onto its already burning roof, before opening his hands to revel in the display of growing flame.

“Be embraced by your fate, children! It will your time tomorrow if not today, so spare your suffering now and submit! His hunger will not fade, it is all and eternal!”

Another one of the maniacs, perhaps a little more zealous but another rioter all the same. He hasn't noticed you, with only the burning building in front of him and the bodies of three men at his feet. The stones are oddly crumbled around where he stands, the light reflecting their cracked features. The double doors of the building are rattling with the screams of its occupants, its bolts straining with pressure until a loud crunch fills the air and a swarm of well-dressed and terrified people pour from the broken doorway and into his arms.

Raunchel/Serdynage Hastur-Vartul

“My Lord.” His heels click and your captain follows his orders, gathering the least tired and injured of your house guard to march to the wall, double-time. A group of five are formed to reacquire the fallen ladders and watch beyond the wall for trouble. Yildiz responds quickly to her command, though with less soldiered enthusiasm, before leaving to rally the staff in collecting your property to safe areas, her hands nervously tapping against her armour as she keeps her nerves together as best as can be considered.

Xanthe stops her sniffling as you comfort her, wiping the tears from her eyes silently. She doesn't speak, but does utter a shaky “Mmm hmm,” to indicate that she would like to be trained as you offered. She begins to smile after you kiss her forehead, you hear the sadness leave her voice as she quietly replies, “Thank you, my Lord.” If she were any younger, she would be incessantly hugging you again as she had tried to do for many weeks after her uplifting from slum life. Now she is learning the proper behaviour, and instead awkwardly curtsey.

Grandfather lets out a soft chuckle at your question, “Well, if a lowly guardsmen's spear was penetrate your armour then you would probably do better without its weight. But as what you probably meant, was he actually going to attack you? Yes, probably quite poorly by the way he held the spear. He would have been seen as a traitor by his fellow men and disrupted the already wafer-thin morale as it remains. Better a mysterious stranger, with their gracious Lord's support, capture him quickly and efficiently. No friends must fight and they can simply grumble and return to their posts.”

Your prisoners are a pair of ragged clothed men, one dressed in the bloody apron of a butcher, the other wiry with famine, patched hair sprouting from his surprisingly young face. They both thrash against their bindings, attempting to chew their gags but exhaustion is obviously weakening their bodies even if their minds continue fighting. As you remove the smaller one's gag, he immediate snap at your fingers like a beast. You are quicker and his teeth merely clack together on the empty air, but he still continues to try and snap despite you exiting his range.

“The gold, the food, give them. Give them to me. Give me your gold or I'll gut you. I'll bite you. I'll kill you.”

Possibly the most ludicrous demand a prisoner has ever given within these dark walls, the prisoner continues to bite and scream for you to give him all of your food and wealth, his mad eyes lock on yours, ignoring your Grandfather completely. And that doesn't explain the first two questions, perhaps a little encouragement will help things along. As you administer your first cut, regardless of its severity, the worst the prisoner reacts is a brief rise in volume as he leaks red essence, before continuing his crazed demands.

Your Grandfather touches the blood that begins to drip from the man's injury, rubbing his fingers and examining it before bringing the ichor to his lips. He lets out a brief choke, spitting the offending blood from his mouth. “This man's blood. . . its . . vampiric.”

GuyFawkes/Levi T. Pendegraph

“TAKE!”

The word echoes in the attackers lips dissonantly, as Levi crosses the hall to meet his bodyguards, the bloodied group grab a few more people, biting the servants and guests alike. They scream in terror, some trying to get away, but the tightly packed nature of the crowd bars any effort of retreat. The bullets shatter the wooden tops connecting the spearheads to their shafts, but the rabid attackers only continues to charge with the splintered weapons in their grasps, dulled but still weak clubs. Kravitz's rapier does pierce though the tendons that aid control of the guard's hand, his grip going limp and his spear awkwardly falling to stab the floorboards as his other hand failed to compensate.

“GUT!”

Beach begins to blubber as the twins deftly avoid the wild swings of the mob, but as the pair tackled their prospective foes, the rest ignored the attackers, continuing straight for the crowd of auction goers. The black-sand merchant is no warrior as is most of the crowd who begin to panic chaoticly, pushing and shoving towards the main entrance in the hope of escape. The auctioneer is shouting something in an attempt to prevent them from rioting, but as a smouldering scent begins to descend upon the hall, he pushed back against the inward-opening doors. The roof starts to darken as the smell of burning wood grows as does the panic, you can see the formerly happy couple now desperate in tears, the elderly lady who donated so much now struggling to stay up right in the animal-minded mob.

“KILL!”

The twins manage to disable another four weapons or their wielding limbs within the short space of time that auction goers managed to turn on themselves. Only Beach's faith in Levi's sword arm has stopped the overweight man from joining the mob. A trio of red-mouthed bodies tackle the rear-most crowd, as the victims scream for help. Another blood-tooth being limps towards Levi himself, the signs of an ankle bite explaining the awkward gait as the foot was partially paralysed. Beach dives behind the smuggler,

“MINE!”

“Oh wastes, stop him, Pendegraph. Pleeease!”

“MINE!”

As Levi parrys his clumsy assailant, a voice echoes with his body. Like the emptiness of Sir Karl's death, he feels hollowed out as it speaks inside of him, whilst the Twins experience as similar a situation as their natures allow.

“Be embraced by your fate, children! It will your time tomorrow if not today, so spare your suffering now and submit! His hunger will not fade, it is all and eternal!”

Smoke is starting to thicken the air and the hollow voice appears to have only terrified the crowd further, as they push and struggle against the wooden barrier. Finally, a great snapping sound fills the greying air, and the masses escape into the street. If any of the trio would be able to notice form their prospective fights, they may notice a large dark robed figure standing in the orange lit street, its arms spread to greet the ensuing mob.

[GuyFawkes]

Levi T. Pendegraph

Levi sighed inwardly as he fought off the rabid creature that has become of whoever it was. How the heck did it become like this? Should have left earlier, he thought. All the while he began grabbing any of the panicked auction goers, slowly leeching from them one by one for whatever he could of their physical strengths. Finally, he backed up and held Beach's arm as he shouted.

"H! K! Outside! Now!"

With a quick parry and slash, he easily severed the hand of his attacker, what with his attack more accurate and powerful than a few seconds ago. With a straight kick to the chest, he distanced the threat from himself and the sand merchant Beach. Without letting go of Beach's hand, Levi began to make his way outside in a composed but brisk walk, surveying for the easiest way without being pushed around by the panicked mob.

Four loaded pistols remained on Hanya's holsters, and all were dispensed in but a few moments. This time, Hanya aimed for the wrists as well, seeing that his previous tactic was not that effective. Kravitz had drawn her other rapier as well, thrusting both at different opponents at the same time.

"This is not gonna end!" Hanya says through his teeth as he bit off one end of the paper cartridge and reloaded one of his pistols. "I think if you get bitten by one, you turn into one of them as well!"

"Yes, I...wow, you actually thought about that?" Kravitz threw a smile at her brother as she passed him and lunged at the rabid attacker coming at him from behind with a well-placed thrust to the arm.

"I know right? Shut up, sis! Well, truth be told, surprised myself! Hahaha!" he laughed as he bent down and spun right to dodge one attacker and retaliated at him (or it) with a sweep to the back of the knee. Grabbing another paper cartridge from his belt, he began reloading another pistol.

"No time, boss says out. Come on!" With that, he began to make his way across the room of tables and chairs and people and bodies, whether broken or whole, towards the exit. After debilitating a few more of the bloodied guards through well-placed attacks on the joints of the extremities, Kravits made her way back as well.

Outside, Hanya bumped into the back of Levi, who was just standing there outside with Beach still in hand.

"Ow, hey. Sup boss? What's the ma...whoa! Who's the weirdo?" Hanya suddenly asked as he saw the robed man with arms stretched.

"Dunno. But my arachnid sense tells me he's bad news."

"Your what sense?!"

"Hero of a novel I read somewh...never mind. K, which way to our ride out of here?"

"This way," Kravitz, now standing right beside Hanya, pointed towards their destination.

"All right. Mister Beach, I suggest you come with us for the moment. It's not safe here. K. Take point. Han, cover us if that creep tries to follow us." Levi gave his commands.

"Got it," replied both in unison.