[3.5e, IC] The Swashbuckling Assassin

[Dragodar]

Intro:Welcome to the IC (In Character) Thread for your new adventure, The Swashbuckling Assassin.

If you have any questions regarding the rules or game mechanics, or about how to use the website or how to post, ask them here on the OOC Thread (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?530017-3-5e-OOC-The-Swashbuckling-Assassin&p=22186011#post22186011)

T'vik Only:Years ago, Viktr ed H'vir the elf, and Ona Merida, his human wife, fled with their son and daughter, T'vik and Er'edh, and left forever the war torn land of Tir Anwn in hopes of finding a better life across the Narrow Sea, in the sprawling kingdom of Tir Albeon. This hopeful journey however, they would never complete.
Two weeks into their voyage, the couple was finally beginning to allow themselves the hope that maybe they could have a better life once they reached their destination. The journey had been arduous and their path winding, but Tir Albeon promised the opportunity of a quiet and peaceful life away from the constant fear and danger of Tir Anwn. But fate would not see it be.
Their ship was attacked by a small fleet of pirates led by a locally infamous pirate captain known only as The Pirate Lord. The ship was destroyed but T'vik and Er'edh survived. T'vik watched over his younger sister as they made it to shore on a large piece of flotsam and began their trek across the plains. The first village they arrived in in Tir Albeon was a small human village called Temlin. The humans were suspicious of all outsiders, especially non humans, and turned away the young half elves. During their journey on foot to the next town, Er'edh succumbed to her injuries and died. T'vik vowed revenge on the village of Temlin, and would return years later to exact his vengeance.

***

Now, T'vik is a man. No longer the frightened boy who tried and failed to keep his sister alive, T'vik is a mercenary and a killer of the highest degree. He has sworn vengeance on The Pirate Lord and searches always for the man who stole his parents. T'vik is an assassin, a stalker in the night. He pays his bills by taking lives. Now, he is en ruote to the island of Mistmantle, where his next target lies unknowingly in his bed.

Ierwyn Emas is a loan shark and shipping magnate who secretly runs a powerful criminal organization. The Order of Assassins has assigned T'vik the duty of taking this man's life.
By order of the High Council of the Order of Assassins, Masyaf Chapter:
Ierwyn Emas has been sentenced to death.

*****

This man is guilty of extortion and murder. On the surface, the man runs a successful shipping business, but his success can be completely attributed to his corrupt and illegal underhanded dealings.

Ierwyn Emas has, on multiple occasions, extorted money from rival business owners by means of a small group of thugs who do his bidding. He has a significant amount of muscle on Mistmantle and is willing to flex it to get what he wants. He uses threats and blackmail to coerce others into bending to his will.

In addition, he has been indirectly responsible for the murders of at least two men. One was a rival business owner whose success threatened to encroach on Emas' territory. The other was a partner who double crossed Emas and manipulated a business deal so that Emas was cut out of a large sum of money. The victim did not break the law, but his dealing was underhanded and upset Emas. In both cases, Emas was nowhere near the crime, but our intelligence tells us that he ordered the hits.

Finally, it is not confirmed but it is alleged that Emas has also made use of bribes to smooth over his law breaking. It is suspected that he has bribed police forces and even minor politicians for personal gain. If confirmed, these allegations add bribery and political corruption to Emas' laundry list of crimes.

*****

It is important that Emas' death look unremarkable so as not to cause uproar. If possible, make it look like an accident. Any undetectable poison capable of imitating a heart attack or other natural cause of sudden death would be acceptable.

If the appearance of an accident is not attainable, make it look like a common crime such as a mugging or armed robbery. A mugging may be difficult since Emas typically has guards when in public, but a night time armed robbery of his estate may work well.

Stain the cloth. Report back to the Council.

T'vik sails aboard The Grey Lady a merchant ship with business in Mistmantle. He is undercover, and the crew of the ship know nothing more about him than that he is a paying passenger.

You stand on the deck of the ship as it bobs and sways on the stormy-gray waters. Ahead, you see the massive cloud of fog you were told to expect.

A voice calls from the crow's nest, "Fog ho!" but you barely hear it, so absorbed you are in your thoughts. Vaguely, you hear the helmsman respond, "Full speed ahead!" and as you gaze distantly into the mist, you feel an impending sense of foreboding, as though you are doomed never to leave this fog again.

***

As these thoughts swirl in your brain, the ship enters the fog and the mist swirls around you. You quickly become disoriented as you cannot see anything further than five feet in front of your face.

Even the crew members and your fellows adventurers, standing mere yards away from you on the deck of The Grey Lady, are shrouded from view as the ship enters the mist.

You feel a sense of trepidation as you speed through the water. The helmsman calls out "Bring her down to half speed!" and as the sails are lowered you feel the ship quickly decelerate.

Still, you feel on edge, like a man woken from his sleep in the night by thirst, who walks in the pitch dark and knows not what objects he may or may not run into blindly. You feel as though at any moment a rock may appear in front of the ship and send you all to watery graves.

But as much as you expect it, this does not occur. The helmsman calls out yet again, "Quarter speed, double the lookout!" The ship slows yet again and a crew member scrambles up the rigging to join his mate in the crow's nest.

***

Hours pass as the captain puts into effect a series of tacking maneuvers, zigging and zagging through the mist in a seemingly futile attempt to find the island.

As the time drifts by, the dim light the filtered through the mist from the far away sun eventually fades. As the sun sets and the blackness sets in, you are enveloped in milky darkness.

"Anchor down!" cries the helmsman. To navigate in these conditions would be suicide without a doubt. The fog blocks out the stars and you are unable to see even your own hand in front of your face.

That is, until the captain gives orders to light the lanterns. Small pinpricks of light pop into existence along the length of the deck as the anchor splashes into the water. The ship sits upon the waves as they lap softly against her wooden sides.

"We spend the night here!" calls the captain. "We resume our search tomorrow, after dawn." he turns and heads aft toward his quarters.

***

As you stand on the deck, you are able to discern dark shapes moving about the ship, and you notice that many of them are headed for the galley door. From belowdeck, you can hear the sounds of drinking and conversation.

Up on deck, the wind blows softly, tugging at your collar and ruffling your hair. The steady sound of the waves lapping on the sides of the ship lull you into a relaxed state of sensory stillness as the night seems to enter a state of timelessness.

You feel as though you could be here forever, and the sun may never rise. This ship feels like purgatory, and the sea seems infinite in its darkness.

You are floating out in the midst of nothingness, and beyond the edges of this boat lies only the unknown.

[Nightwing32193]

As he stares out into the blackness, T'vik strains his ears for any sound that might give him a clue as to wear he is in relation to his destination.

[Nightwing32193]

[roll0] For my listening skill

[Dragodar]

Strain as he may, T'vik hears nothing through the blanket-like silence created by the thick fog. The only things to reach his ears are the rhythmic lapping of the waves on the boat, the steady creaking of the ship's timbers, and the distant muffled voices of the men belowdeck.

T'vik feels a shiver down his spine as the chill sets in. The fog has already dampened his clothes and the night feels cold and unwelcoming. The faint orange glow from the aft cabin doors reminds him of the company and warm food that await him downstairs.

Up near the bowsprit he glimpses the faintly twinkling light of a lone lantern, bobbing forlornly at the fore of the ship. For a moment, T'vik thinks that he may have seen a dark shape moving near the jib, but it could easily have been a trick of the low light and the fog.

[Nightwing32193]

He moves slowly towards the jib, peeling his eyes for any sign of movement out of the ordinary. [roll0]

[Dragodar]

As T'vik walks to the fore of the ship, the lantern continues to sway on its hook, making no dent in the solid wall of mist that surrounds the ship. A sense of uneasiness comes over T'vik as he gazes out into the fog, thrown off slightly by the total lack of depth perception yielded by the gray miasma.

Just as T'vik is beginning to turn away, the movement he had seen earlier once again catches his eye. Just mere feet off the starboard bow, a looming shadow comes slowly into view. T'vik's stomach drops into his shoes as he recognizes the nature of the shadow. A monolith stretching nearly twenty feet above the deck of the ship stands firmly in the water, unmoving and promising death to all aboard the ship.

As T'vik watches, the ship continues past the giant rock, passing so close that T'vik could have stretched out his hand and touched it as it passed by, had he been standing on the starboard rail. Even as the first rock fades back into the fog, another comes into view, this time on the port side. T'vik realizes with a settling sense of dread that the ship has anchored amongst a multitude of massive rocks, and the ebb and flow of the tide was bringing the ship dangerously close to the ancient columns.

[Nightwing32193]

Relieved, he sits down heavily with his back again the mast and takes a pull of rum from his pocket flask (Liam (OC): among my childhood trauma I'm also a semi-alkie). Confident there was no more reason for him to be on deck he made his way down to the hold. Weaving his way between crew members, he keeps his ears open for anything he can hear from these seasoned sea dogs [roll0]
After finding a spot near the back of the crews quarters, he plants himself between two crew members. Turns to the tougher looking of the two and asks "Sailor, have you ever seen of fog such as this in all your days at sea?" [roll1]

[Dragodar]

The sailor he addresses looks up from his pint at T'vik and grunts a reply, "I've seen a few like it." The man take a large swig from his pint. "Always bad news," he adds. Then he returns to his conversation about knots with his ship mate.

You notice two huge casks at the back of the cabin, nearly as tall as the low ceiling. They are tapped with shiny silver spigots, and an array of mugs and flagons are scattered haphazardly across a table in front of them. Every man below deck appears to have partaken, and many are in the process of refilling their cups. With the ship anchored for the night, everyone is able to relax and kick back.

The atmosphere in the cabin is warm and inviting, quite the opposite of the shadow enveloped deck above.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik takes another pull from his flask and puts the cork back in. He Ieans back and attempt to relax while the rest of the crew continue their respective merriment.

[Dragodar]

Before he knows it, a deep sleep wraps T'vik up like a soft blanket. The world fades, and the sounds of the cabin die down.

***
THE NEXT MORNING
***

"HEAVE ANCHOR!" shouts a voice from abovedeck. T'vik starts awake to a faint gray light shining in through the tiny portholes in the cabin walls. As he takes stock of his surroundings, he hears a heavy, grating, scraping noise as the anchor is pulled into the ship.

The pale light of morning trickles in down the stairs from the cabin doors. Mugs and flagons lie scattered across the floor and three crew members are still drunkenly unconscious. The bustle of the crew on deck reaches T'vik's ears.

"HALF SPEED AHEAD!" calls the voice from above. T'vik feels a pulse of acceleration in his gut and hear the waves slap the outside of the hull. They were under weigh.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik checks his flask, he's getting near the end but takes a pull anyway. And slowly makes his way above deck

[Dragodar]

As T'vik makes his way abovedeck, he squints at the brightness around him. The fog still remains, but thinner now, and the latent water vapor in the air causes the sun's light to be refracted and ambient light to be intensified. The crew bustles around him, tying and untying knots, heaving heavy ropes down the length of the deck, climbing up and down the rigging, and preparing to make berth.

"LAND HO!" cries a boy's voice from the crow's nest.

"LAND HO!" repeats the barrel chested bosun, much louder.

The excitement and urgency on deck are now palpable. Everyone is happy to make port after the long journey. If he stares over the forward bow, T'vik can make out a vague outline through the fog.

The island of Mistmantle. Somewhere on that island, T'vik's target is blissfully unaware of approaching doom.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik waits for them to make berth

[Dragodar]

After about half an hour, the ship pulls into harbor and up to a dock. Once the customs officer has inspected the ship, which take almost an hour, the crew are allowed to disembark. T'vik steps onto dry land for the first time in weeks, and it almost feels as wobbly as the ship did on the first day of the voyage, now that he has grown accustomed to his sea legs.

This port is not busy. T'vik has been in many a bustling harbor, and he knows a small one when he sees it. There are only two other ships docked in the harbor, and the foot traffic on the pier is almost non existent. A small group of three deckhands from another ship walk down the pier laughing heartily with each other, and an old man sits on the edge of an empty dock with his fishing rod cast. Two town guards in poorly maintained armor walk side by side down the pier in the opposite direction of the laughing deckhands.

The soft cries of seagulls far above the bay and the soft lull of the waves in the harbor make up the majority of the ambient noise. A faint fishy smell reaches T'vik's nostrils, as his eyes flick up and down the pier. The pier itself is lined with three different pubs and two fish markets. Four or five small stalls line the walk, selling trinkets, furs, foods, and toys of various origin. Behind the pier strip lies the actual town, though it matches the harbor in size and busyness. Behind the town, a sprawling forest stretches into the hills and up toward higher ground inland.

T'vik lets his gaze wander across the island. Somewhere on this rock, Ierwyn Emas awaits his fate.

[Nightwing32193]

He makes his way towards the nearest pub intent on both a stiff drink, and information.

[Dragodar]

The nearest pub is called The Painted Stag, and its sign is adorned with a simple stag insignia, half red, half white. T'vik's hawk alights on the sign and preens its feathers as he enters the small bar.

The inside of the pub is small and dirty, and the only other patrons in the place are two rough looking men in the back corner, nursing drinks and speaking to each other in low murmurs.

"Hello, there," says a nasal voice from behind the bar. A heavier set middle aged man with greased black hair and the semblance of a five o'clock shadow is polishing a mug and beckons to T'vik to have a seat. "Name's Giralo, this is my place. What are we drinking today?"

The man sets down the mug and rubs his hands together, waiting for T'vik to respond.

[Nightwing32193]

"Rum," T'vik replies, "and information about the town of you have any. Comings, goings, who's in charge, best inns, gangs if there are any. Guard patrols and the like. Basically anything you can tell me that'd be of use to a wayward traveler such as myself that is trying to find honest work and keep his nose clean." He finishes with a wink. "And the best brothel."

[Dragodar]

Giralo flashes a toothy grin and nods, pouring a healthy amount of rum into a mug. "Aye, I know what you mean. But what's in it for me, bud?" Giralo asks, matter of factly. He glances at your coinpurse and winks back. He slides the mug across the table and adds, "That'll be two silver, right there."

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik obliges and places two silver pieces on the bar behind near the drink. Then he takes a look at the bartender and slides 4 more silver across the bar towards the bartender, "There's may be more where this came from friend, if you tell me what I need."

[roll0]

[Dragodar]

Giralo's eyes flash at the sight of the extra silver. Smiling, he slides the coins across the table and over the edge into his hand. Dropping the money into his pocket, he leans across the bar.

"Vale is one of two ports on Mistmantle. The other is Mantle, which is on the other side of the island. Mantle's bigger; most of the wealthy merchants and big name shipping companies are headquartered in Mantle. Since there are only three towns on the island, the island is run by a governor. Name's Lew Ashby. Tough fella, no nonsense; he lives in a military fortress on the mountain in the middle of the island.

Each town has a mayor who answers directly to Lew Ashby. Mayor of Vale is called Temmon Roderick. He don't do much more than collect taxes and eats pastries all day. Anyway, what else was it you wanted to know?"

Giralo produces another mug and begins absentmindedly wiping it with his bar towel. He pauses to run a hand across his greased, black hair, and then returns to polishing the mug as he awaits your next question.

[Nightwing32193]

"Thanks friend, mighty fine establishment you run here." T'vik says as he looks the pub over, his gaze falls on the two rough looking men sitting in the corner. He sips his drink and slowly stands up and makes his way over to them. "Good day gentlemen," he nods disarmingly, "care to drink with a stranger, if that stranger will buy?"

[roll0]

[Dragodar]

The stranger with his back to you turns to face you, revealing the thick, red beard and round, smiling face of a dwarf. "Let it never be said that Durmon Rockheim was one to turn down a drink!" he exclaims, kicking back an empty chair for you.

The human man smiles as well and responds more softly than his dwarf friend. "We'll gladly drink with you. Have a seat, lad," he says, mistaking your soft half elf features for youth. "I'm Raigar, this is Durmon."

Durmon pulls his long, unkempt red hair into a loose ponytail and beckons Giralo to come to the table. Raigar's dark hair is already braided behind him, revealing pierced ears and a slight glimpse of a tattoo on his neck. Both men wear light leather armor and traveling cloaks. Durmon's axe rests against his chair leg and Raigar's bow lies on the table. A quiver of elegant black arrows hangs from Raigar's chair.

"What can I get the gentlemen?" Giralo asks, approaching the table.

"Three pints of house," Durmon pipes up.

Giralo turns to fetch the ale from the bar. Raigar looks at you, then at your scimitar, then back at you, and inquires "Where you from?"

T'vik Only:Be sure to bold and color your dialogue. Anything in quotes that your character is saying should be like this:
"Good day gentlemen," he nods disarmingly, "care to drink with a stranger, if that stranger will buy?"
Which you type like this:
[ b][ color="#008000"]"Good day gentlemen,"[ /b][ /color] he nods disarmingly, [ b][ color="#008000"]"care to drink with a stranger, if that stranger will buy?"[ /b][ /color]

[Nightwing32193]

Taken aback by their unexpected kindness T'vik smiles sheepishly and finishes the last of his rum. "My past is my own, but my present I am more then willing to share with the likes of hearty folk such as yerselves. I have come to this island to find a man, Ierwyn Emas, I have business to attend to with him. If the name is familiar I will happily pay the sum of 10 silver for any information you have.

[Dragodar]

Durmon looks you up and down, eyes lingering on your scimitar. "Business, eh? What kind of business?"

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik looked back and forth between the two strangers, both proven looking warriors. He debated whether or not to tell them the truth. Nonchalantly placing his sword hand on his scimitar hilt he leaned back in his chair and smiled roguishly, "This man I speak of wronged a friend of mine, I'm here to get the truth and possibly defend my ally's honor. For he is no longer able to defend his own."
[roll0]

[Dragodar]

The two men pause with their drinks in hand and look at each other. Raigar speaks first. "So you mean to kill him or rough him up a bit?"

Durmon laughs a hearty laugh. "I certainly hope you didn't just come to Mistmantle for the sake of attacking a mayor and immediately blab about it to the first two strangers you met."

Raigar doesn't seem to find the situation as funny. "We're law abiding citizens here, boy. If I were you I would avoid causing trouble while you're here."

Durmon downs the rest of his ale and stands. Finished laughing, he says solemnly, "If any funny business goes down, we'll know right where to look. You'd best hope Master Emas comes to no harm while you're on this island."

Raigar and Durmon both stand, and Raigar throws his quiver over his shoulder. The tall dark human adds, "We'll pay for our own," as he and Durmon toss a few coppers onto the table. They turn away and walk out he front door, leaving you alone in The Painted Stag.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik watches them leave. He downs his ale in a few swigs and stands. "The mayor, the ****ing mayor. This complicates things considerably. At least he won't be a hard target to find." He walks out of the pub and into the harbor. Making his way away from the docks and into the town, keeping a weather eye open for the two men from the tavern.

[roll0]

[Dragodar]

As T'vik moves to exit the tavern, Giralo rushes after him and calls out, "Sir, the ale! It was 2 coppers!"

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik stops and smiles, flips him a silver piece, "Apologies, friend. Keep it. Who were those two men in here. They seemed like seasoned warriors and even more seasoned travelers."

1d20+2

[Dragodar]

"Oh, they're hired swords. Deputized guards, over in Mantle. They come over here to Vale every few days because they like my ale. Apparently the swill they sell at the pubs in Mantle doesn't compare to the homebrewed ale of the Painted Stag," he says proudly.

"So," he continues, "Where do you hail from? What brings you to Mistmantle? More specifically what could bring you to a small port like Vale?"

[Nightwing32193]

"My past is my own, please don't ask about it. However I've come to this island to try my hand as a sell sword for the mayor. Much like those two. I'm handy with a blade. May as well make some coin while I'm at it." T'vik replied.

[Dragodar]

Giralo looks doubtful. "Well, Mayor Roderick doesn't hire many sell-swords. Vale is a fairly quiet town and the dozen or so town guard are usually enough to keep the peace."

He pauses to think. "Might try across the island though, in Mantle. Mayor Emas doesn't typically hire sell-swords either but he's been known to before when the town guard is lacking. Bit of a journey though, better part of a day's walk."

[Nightwing32193]

"Thanks for the advice friend, I'll be back, your ale is to die for sir!" T'vik walked out of the tavern into the town. "I need to start creating problems for this small town for this mayor. Then I can offer my assistance to fix the problems I'm causing." He smiled to himself and made his way into the town away from the docks, looking for a nice looking inn as a base of operations.


[roll0]

[Dragodar]

The huge, sleek hawk that had been patiently perched on the sign of the Painted Stag spreads its majestic wings and soars, silently and effortlessly, the short distance to T'vik's shoulder. It alights surprisingly gracefully for a bird of its size, as T'vik carries on without breaking stride.

After several minutes of searching up and down the pier, T'vik concludes that there is a single inn in Vale: The Laughing Fisherman. T'vik realizes quickly that the inn is at least half true to its name, when an explosion of hearty laughter erupts from within. It's a lively and inviting place. The door is heavily weathered wood on clumsy brass hinges. A large brass knocker hangs just off center on the door. The two large front windows have thin shades drawn, enough to let light in but keep peering eyes out. In addition to the laughter, or perhaps due to what caused it, muffled speech breaks out and soon the familiar buzz of inebriated conversation and clinking mugs washes over T'vik's ears like the soft warm tongue of a childhood pet.

T'vik notices that the sun is nearly at its zenith, and there is likely a crowd of fishermen, fishmongers, shippers, sailors, and all other manner of weary employees, who are all too happy to have a noon time pint and chat with the lads before returning to work for the day.

T'vik's musings are interrupted by the mischievous sound of a fiddle, which is quickly accompanied by some kind of drum and then even a whistle. The music is simple folksy peasant music, but it possesses a certain charm and an ancient beauty to its melody.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik makes his way through the crowed and bellys up to the bar. He waits patiently to get the bar tenders attention. He orders and ale and leans back nonchalantly on the bar. Scanning the room and listening to the music he allows himself a thought of what his life could have been had chosen a different path. Almost immediately he pushes the thoughts out of his mind, and gets back to the matter at hand, finding the mayors weaknesses and exploiting them. He sips his ale and waits for the merriment to die down enough to where he can catch the attention of the most seasoned looking fisherman. "Good day. I'm new in town, just trying to navigate my way around. Anything useful? Advice? Information about the town, its mayor, anything at all?"

[Dragodar]

Music (https://open.spotify.com/track/50XfVx8trx8SPwg4OKD1qK)

T'vik opens the door of the Laughing Fisherman and its buffeted by a wall of sound and smell. A small band in the far back corner is in full swing and the crowd inside is in uproarious support. A large number of patrons are clapping along to the music or banging their empty mugs on tables. Every eye is focused on the skilled fingers of the musicians.

The bartender is a huge man, well over six feet in height and as portly as he is tall. His rosy cheeked face is partially hidden behind his fiery crimson beard. He slams an overflowing mug of ale down in front of you and continues to cheer on the band as their music increases in tempo. The crowd is becoming more and more agitated and cheers ring out as several fisherman begin dancing frantically, their feet moving in a blur. And then, as suddenly as it began, the song draws to a close, and the entire bar erupts in applause.

One of the fishermen whom T'vik had addressed turns to him and says, "Sorry son, what was it you were saying? I was a bit distracted. Those fellas only come in here to play once or twice a week, so it's always a treat."

[Nightwing32193]

"A talented lot to be sure. Brings me back to my days as a boy, with all the dancing and livelihood. I asked about the town. I only just arrived, I'm just trying to take in my surroundings. Anything you can tell me would be of great help. Advice, what to avoid, anything I should know about the mayor, any information you'd be willing to share with a simple traveler such as myself." He replies to the fisherman, sipping his beer he adds, "And what's do they call you sir? My name is T'vik."

[Dragodar]

"Name's Thed," he responds. His salt and pepper beard obscures his neck and part of his chest, and a large, folded back fishing hat sits on his head. He reaches out a hand to shake.

"Not much goes on in Vale. It's mostly small fishing gigs for companies and marketplaces that feed the island. Intra-island trade, if you will. Not many off island accounts register with docks in Vale. That's all bigger business better left to Mantle." The fisherman takes a moment to pause and strike a match to spark up his pipe. "Town on the other side of the island," he adds, remembering that T'vik is a newcomer. The man pulls heartily on his pipe and savors the smoke as he watches the band prepare for their next tune.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik watches the smoke from the pipe swirl towards the ceiling. Analyzing the information he had been given by Thed he decides to change the subject, "You seem very well spoken for a simple fisherman, what's your story, Thed? If you don't mind sharing your tale with the likes of me?"

[Dragodar]

The eloquent fisherman looks at you with slight surprise. "As a matter of fact I used to be a merchant. But I'm surprised you noticed," he says. "I had a modest fabric trading company on the Tir Albeon mainland, headquartered in Daliran. My boys grew up and I gave them the company. Moved out here when my wife died so that I could live out my days in peace. I love fishing so I figured I'd go live on an island. I visit my boys every now and then but for the most part I don't leave Mistmantle."

The man takes a long draw from his pipe and stares distantly at the wall. He is silent for a few moments, then turns to T'vik and asks, "How bout you? Can't say I've seen you around. What are you up to on Mistmantle?"

[Nightwing32193]

"I'm sorry to hear about your wife. But it seems like you love what you're doing and that's all any of us can ask from this life. As for myself, I just got in on the last ship. I guess you could say I'm somewhat of a traveler, been here and there, everywhere, but here. And I figured what the hell. What's a couple days on a small island in the grand scheme of things? Just trying to keep my nose clean. So if you have any advice as what to stay away from while I visit i would be in your debt Thed."

[Dragodar]

Thed nods, understandingly. "Just don't get on the wrong side of the law and you'll be fine. If you keep your nose clean like you said, you got nothing to worry about. There's not a lot of trouble to get into here in Vale; it's a pretty quiet place. If you go to Mantle though, just be sure to stay on your toes. There are a few thugs and scam artists but even in Mantle the crime rate is relatively low. As long as you're smart, you'll do fine here on Mistmantle. But if you end up on the wrong side of the law, chances are you'll end up in the governor's dungeons, which is not where you want to be."

[Nightwing32193]

"I'm thankful for your time Thed, I do hope we cross paths again in the future." T'vik extends his hand to shake Thed's.

[Dragodar]

He shakes your hand and nods as he takes another drag from his pipe.

If I post something really short like this, it's because you didn't give me enough to go off in your previous post. Make your posts longer and more detailed, and always include some kind of action or dialogue or something for your character.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik makes his way out of the inn. Looking around he starts walking towards the mayor's house. When he reaches it he starts his recon. Looking all around for guards, entrances, anything that he could use to help him get to his target.
[roll0]

[Dragodar]

As he begins walking through the small streets of Vale, T"vik realizes that he does not, in fact, have any idea where the mayor's house is. He'll have to do a little recon for that information. He remembers that street urchins are typically very willing to exchange information for coppers.

[Nightwing32193]

He climbs the highest building that he can see from his current position to gain a better vantage point of the town
[roll0]

[Dragodar]

T'vik makes his way to a bell tower near the center of the town and nimbly scales its walls. From the belfry, he has a much better view of Vale. Being a small town, Vale has no particular grand buildings, so the bell tower is not extraordinarily tall, even though it does seem to be the tallest building in town. Parts of Vale are obscured by other buildings, but T'vik is able to form a general idea of the vicinity.

Ahead of him, to the south, is the pier and beyond that the deep blue of the ocean and the soft gray of the perpetual mist that surrounds the island and gave it its name. To his left, and east, an assortment of marketplaces and residential buildings form a sort of "downtown" district. Behind him, north, a few private homes are scattered amongst the trees, and behind them, the thick forest and steep hills of the island. From his place in the belfry T'vik can barely make out a small corner of Lew Ashby's stone fortress on the highest hill in the center of the island; the rest of it is obscured by tall trees and other hills. Finally, to his right (west) T'vik is able to make out a number of private homes stretching back into the forest; the homes on the western edge of Vale seem slightly nicer and better maintained.

Below and off to his left, T'vik hears the laughter of children and, when craning to see over the building closest to him, is able to see a rag tag group of children playing in the street, one block over from the bell tower. Also to the east but further away, the hustle and bustle of the market district sends the soft buzz of indistinct conversation floating over to T'vik on the salty sea breeze.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik climbs down the bell tower
[roll0]
He makes his way over to the group of children and gets the attention of a small, hungry looking girl, he kneels down next to her, "Hello, what's your name?"

[Dragodar]

The little girl looks at T'vik and presses her lips tightly together with a look of apprehension. The other children slowly pause their playing and look over at the pair of you. One young lad shouts "Marina! Mum says don't talk to strangers!"

The little girl whips around and runs toward the other children, her tiny shoes pattering on the dusty road. "I didn't talking to him!" she shrieks, stumbling over her words as she runs to her brother. "He talkeded to me, I didn't say anyfing!"

The children continue with their game, running up and down the street, hollering and laughing. The young boy gives you a suspicious look and stays extra close to his little sister.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik smiles and pulls a few coppers from his money pouch, "You help me out, there's more where this came from lad."

[Dragodar]

The children look at each other uncertainly, and then one of the oldest boys shrugs and runs over to you. He looks to be about fourteen, and his unkempt blonde hair, dirty face, ragged clothing, and bare feet make T'vik think that this boy is likely a street urchin or an orphan. The boy eyes the coppers in your hand hungrily. "What d'ye want?" he asks, glancing back and forth from you to the money.

[Nightwing32193]

"I want to be your friend, lad. Are you and your friends hungry?"

[Dragodar]

"Adults don't want to be friends with kids," he says, perceptively. "Are you a bummer? You gonna try to diddle me? Or you trynna sell me to pirates? Either way, no thanks!" The boy backs up a few paces.

"Don't come any closer, guys, this one's a diddler!" he calls to his friends. Some of the older boys laugh, most of the older girls look as though they smell sewage, and the younger children imitate their elders even though they don't know what the boy is talking about.

The charismatic youth looks back at you and asks, "Well, old man, anything I can actually help you with?" He crosses his arms and taps his feet, once again glancing at the coppers.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik chuckles and looks at the boy, "Yeah, yeah for the love of the gods you ****ing can." He tosses a single copper at him, "Can you please show me where the ****ing mayor's house is? There a hot meal of your choice and a gold piece in it for you when you do that for me."

[Dragodar]

The boy smiles and deftly snags the copper from the air. Despite his words, he has a certain air of likability about him. "Why sure I can, mister. In fact, I can lead you there meself if it means gold and a meal."

He claps his hands together and suddenly the copper piece is gone. Then he reaches into his pocket, pulls it out, and polishes it on his shirt before placing gently back in his pocket. T'vik realizes that he'll have to keep an eye on this one.

"Right this way, sir," he says as he turns around and begins walking.

"Don't worry lads, he's not a diddler after all! Be right back." The boy looks back at you and beckons you to follow him before taking off at a brisk walk down a side street heading toward the pier.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik shakes his head at the other children, "I admire your reservations. I'll return your friend exactly how i found him." He turned to the boy he was following, "That's a pretty nifty trick you just did there with that copper. Just know that if you try and rob me, you're not gonna have a good time. What's your name boy?",

[Dragodar]

The youth looks at you warily. "Well, keep in mind that I took this before you told me that, but..." He tosses you a small leather flask which you immediately recognize as your own. He grins sheepishly and shrugs. "I was thirsty."

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik chuckles and catches the flask, "You're good young one. Are your parents preformers as well? And I'll ask again, lad, what's your name?"

[Dragodar]

"Don't know my parents. They're probably dead. Or maybe they went to the mainland and forgot me here. Hell, maybe they live here on the island. I don't really care either way. Raemon takes care of us. I'm Lepp." He reaches out a small hand with a confidence far beyond his years.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik smiles and hesitates, staring the boy down as he cautiously shakes his had. "Sorry nothing against ya Lepp, but twice already you've shown you're quite the pickpocket. My name is T'vik. It's a pleasure to meet you. So are all your friends as skilled as you at stealing innocent bystanders' belongings?"

[Dragodar]

T'vik sees a slight glimmer of pride in Lepp's eyes as the boy answers his question. "Nope. I mean they're not bad, but I'm the best. Raemon says I could nick the whiskers off a cat."

Lepp turns onto the main street along the pier and begins strolling west. "He's up there, in those nice houses," Lepp says, pointing at the the large residences that peek out from the trees on the hill west of the pier. "What do you want with Mayor Roderick anyway? he asks as he ambles down the pier.

Out of the corner of his eye, T'vik sees Lepp casually slip an oyster off the table of a small booth without the merchant noticing. The boy waits until they are several yards away from the oyster booth before hungrily cracking open the shell and sucking out the juicy interior.

[Nightwing32193]

" Who's Raemon? Is he like a pimp for young thieves?" T'vik asks, a slight hint of sarcasm in his voice, testing the boys perception. "By the look of things it doesn't look like he's doing a very good job taking care of you all. And I thought the mayor of this town was Ierwyn Emas?"

[Dragodar]

"Raemon is like an older brother. I think he's twenty or something like that. He's an orphan too, and he doesn't need to take care of us all the time because he taught us how to take care of each other. He assigns chores to everyone, and organizes the kids so that we can all eat and survive."

"We share everything though. He doesn't keep anything for himself like Orimar did. Orimar was bad; Raemon is good." Lepp frowns slightly when he mentions Orimar but he seems to genuinely care about Raemon.

"And Mayor Emas is the mayor of Mantle. That's on the other side of the island." Lepp kicks a small rock and keeps it in front of him, kicking it every few steps.

[Nightwing32193]

"We'll I'm glad you have someone to look after you Lepp. Well. You help up your end of the deal. What would you like to eat?" T'vik says as he flips a gold piece towards the boy, silently cursing himself for such a careless mistake,

[Dragodar]

Lepp catches the gold piece and inspects it carefully. His eyes grow wide and T'vik guess that the boy has not seen many gold pieces in his time. The youth turns the coin over in his hand several times, and places it carefully in his pocket.

He looks up at you. "Mutton." He licks his lips inadvertently, as though the mere thought of piping hot, juicy mutton causes his mouth to water. "They roast mutton every Friday at the Laughing Fisherman!" he adds excitedly. "Today's Friday!"

Stelios finishes circling and alights on your shoulder.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik nodded and smiled. He walks with Lepp back down towards the docks towards the Laughing Fisherman. Once their inside T'vik orders the mutton for both and an ale for himself. He pauses and looks down at the young boy sitting beside him. After a couple seconds of thought he orders a second mug of ale for his young companion. "How would you like to come to Mantle with me?"

[Dragodar]

Lepp squints discerningly at you and wipes the mutton juice from his chin. "What for?" he asks, between bites of mutton. The lad takes a long swig of ale and belches loudly before continuing to attack the mutton.

[Nightwing32193]

"I'm offering you a chance to get out of here. Stay here and you have familiar and you keep doing what you're doing in the streets. But you seem too smart to stay here the rest of your life. I'm not a rich man by any means. But I'm offering you the chance for more." T'vik replied. As he spoke he thought to himself, was it actually a good idea? Could he actually offer this boy more? With the danger of his current mission. His intentions were tell this boy the truth about himself. Still, not yet. But he saw talent. And smarts. He deserved more.

[Dragodar]

Lepp thinks hard for a few moments, a distant look in his eyes. He absently takes a few bites of mutton and chews slowly. The boy finishes with a gulp of ale and looks up at you. "I don't want to be here my whole life," he says, "But what about the other kids? They're basically my siblings. And most of them are younger than me. I can't just leave them... They need me."

T'vik realizes that the fourteen year old is dealing with a serious inner conflict. Lepp turns and stares into the fire. He takes another long drink.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik sighes and puts his hand on the boy's shoulder. "I understand your position Lepp, I will be staying here, in this inn for the next two days, on the third day I'll be leaving for Mantle and you'll most likely never see me again. With the skills you already have, and a willingness to work, you could become someone can keep people safe. Finish your meal. I have some things I must attend to. But if you need me, you know where to find me."

[Dragodar]

Lepp swallows down the last of his mutton and finishes the last fews sips of ale. He sits back and stares into the fire, listening to the low, melancholy notes of a wood whistle being played near the back of the bar.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik walked over to the bar keeper and oredered a room for the next two days. He made his way up to his room and unpacked some of his things. He counted his arrows, made sure his bow string was tight, sharpened his blades and made sure all his equipment was in order before heading back out through the streets to gather more intel. He left most of his equipment in the room he brought his punching dagger strapped to his thigh, he put his scimitar on his back for better freedom of movement. He makes his way back down into the lobby and looks around for Lepp

[Dragodar]

By the time T'vik returns from his room, Lepp is gone. The bar is raucous and warm so T'vik steps outside for fresh air and quiet. The streets of Vale are awash in the fiery orange glow of sunset, and the shadows stretch across the streets, far taller than the objects casting them. The sky is filled with glowing pink and orange clouds, which fade into pinks and purple, and then into deep blue and indigo further to the east.

Looking to his right, T'vik sees the brilliant yellow orange glow of the sunset behind the hill that the mayor's home rests upon. The sun itself is obscured behind the forested hill but its fiery ray pour over the edges and cast deep purple shadows across the small town of Vale. Turning east, T'vik sees the downtown district of Vale in front of a backdrop of dark blue sky. The sea is calm and the waves lap at the pier. The smell of salt and fish is latent and the distant cries of gulls searching for their last meal of the day reaches T'vik's ears. Already, the day is beginning to feel cooler as the night time breeze rolls in from the ocean.

[Nightwing32193]

He started to make his way back downtown. Keeping his ears peeled for any mention of Mantle, or its mayor. When he arrives downtown he finds the nearest pub, orders an ale and sits alone in the corner with his back against the wall. He observes the folk in the bar. Looking around for anything that could give him reason to question them.

[Dragodar]

T'vik's night at the pub is not particularly fruitful. After sitting for hours, he hears Mantle mentioned only in passing. As far as he is able to discern, Mantle is a large town, almost enough to be considered a city. It's about a day's trek across the island, on the north shore. Mantle is the economic hub of Mistmantle and its mayor is Ierwyn Emas. The three towns of Mistmantle are Vale, Mantle, and Misty Ridge; Mantle being the largest (almost a city) and Misty Ridge being the smallest (almost a village). Misty Ridge is on the western shore of the island, and on the eastern shore is a collection of massive natural geysers that produce the mist for which the island is named.

Most of this information T'vik already had, but at least now it was confirmed and he was familiar with the island on a basic level. T'vik recognizes a hawk screech from outside and knows that Stelios has just caught his dinner. By the time T'vik finishes his recon in the pub, the place has died down completely. Two very drunk patrons remain; one is asleep at the bar and another is sitting at a table with his eyes closed, singing to himself. The fire is hardly more than coals and the room is dark and quiet. The flickering flames cast dancing shadows throughout the bar and the occasional pop and crack of the logs lulls T'vik into a drowsy state.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik slowly makes his way out of the pub and back towards the inn. Once he's back in his room he reviews the information in his head. Clearly his mission lies on the other side of the Island. But he couldn't help but think it'd be easier to strike a killing blow if he could lure Ierwyn to Vale. He would most certainly need a good reason. A deep dark secret that would force Ierwyn into the open. Otherwise he'd have to strike at him in his home town which would make it considerably harder. He decided that before he could make an assassination attempt he would have to travel to Mantle and gather more information about his target. It was clear to him that he wasn't going to gather much more then he already had. But he had promised Lepp that'd he'd stay for another day. So he decided to make the most of it.
He lay down and shut his eyes, finally letting sleep take him.

[Dragodar]

T'vik beds down and the soft arms of sleep embrace him.

*****

The next morning, T'vik is greeted by a pleasant sight the moment he leaves the inn.

Lepp is standing outside in the street, and on his arm, Stelios is perched happily. The hawk seldom familiarizes itself to anyone but T'vik, but it does seem to have taken a liking to the boy. Lepp holds his forearm in front of him and with his other hand gently strokes Stelios' soft chest, using the backs of his fingers. Stelios preens for a moment and then raises his wings and relocates himself to T'vik's shoulder with one powerful flap.

"Hi," says Lepp.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik smiles at the young boy "Well? Are you here to break my heart or make my day Lepp?"

[Dragodar]

Lepp frowns with uncertainty. "Raemon wants to meet you," he says. He seems interested but also very cautious and hesitant.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik sighes. This is not what he wanted. Raemon may end up being a valuable ally though. "Alright Lepp, lets go meet him." He begins to follow Lepp through the streets to meet Raemon.

[Dragodar]

Lepp heads downtown and begins to take a series of complicated twists and turns through narrow streets and alleyways.

Very soon, you find yourself in a dead end alleyway. The walls on every side are covered in posters and ads, ages old. Gaudy, colorful designs cover the huge swaths of paper and fabric that hang from every available space. The actual walls of the buildings on either side are not even visible, so covered are they in these ancient ad papers and carnival posters.

Lepp walks to the very end of the alleyway and stands in front of the narrow wall at the end. On this wall is a particularly large poster with a crudely drawn golden lion on a red background; underneath the creature are the words "Come to the carnival, See magnificent beasts and unbelievable sights!" This poster is about eight feet wide, almost the width of the alleyway itself, and take up the entire wall at the back of the dead end, hanging from about fifteen feet up.

Lepp grabs the edge of the heavy fabric and pulls it aside with some effort, revealing a small door in the dead end wall that seems to have been fashioned after the construction of the building itself. The door is about five feet tall and three feet wide, and made of wood. It looks far newer than the rest of the building. This fact, along with the roughly hewn away stone around the edge of the door, leads T'vik to conclude that this door was added recently and probably secretly or illegally, long after the building was erected.

Lepp knocks on the door, three quick raps, then two slow thumps, then three more quick raps. A heavy grating sound as that of a clunky iron lock being drawn reaches T'vik's ears, and Lepp smiles. "After you," he says, gesturing to the door.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik looks suspiciously at the opening behind the door. Walking into something like this blindly with no knowledge of entrances or exits is an Assassin's nightmare."No, you lead." He said, sternly.

[Dragodar]

Lepp shrugs, turns, and disappears into the dark opening. You hear him call out, "I'm bringing a friend. Don't worry, he's alright." Then silence.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik shrugs and makes his way into the darkness after Lepp, straining both his ears and eyes for what's around him.

[Dragodar]

As T'vik enters the doorway, his eyes quickly adjust to his environment and he sees that he is in what looks to be a sitting room of an old house. The place looks ancient and yet frequently used. A sofa sits in the corner and a finely carved wood table adorns the center of the room. The walls are yellowed with age and poorly maintained, but the floor is swept and on the sofa there sit a blanket and pillow. The door to the next room is directly across from T'vik and a window to his right allows the early morning sunlight to filter into the room through a thick white linen sheet.

Standing right next to the door he just entered is a child of about 10, dressed like Lepp and likely an orphan as well. Her raven hair falls in loose curls around her shoulders and her dark green eyes look up at T'vik silently and inquisitively.

Lepp crosses the room and walks through the door on the other side. He turns to his left and beckons T'vik to follow him before disappearing around the corner.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik smiles at the girl. Hoping that she takes it as a sign he's not there to harm anyone, looking around he wonders how he could make life better for these kids, if they accept him as a friend. He takes note of the window as a possible escape route, crosses the room and follows Lepp.

[Dragodar]

Rounding the corner, T'vik sees Lepp ascending an ornate flight of stairs. He catches a glimpse of a couple other rooms on the first floor and sees that all the windows have white sheets over them. Children of various ages move through the rooms, engaged in various activities. Some do chores, while others eat or play make believe. The entire house has the paradoxical atmosphere of being unmaintained but frequently used.

As he reaches the top of the stairs, T'vik sees a long corridor with doors on both sides, stretching the length of the house. Lepp walks down the hall and pauses three doors down on the left. "In here," he says, turning to T'vik and gesturing at the door.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik nods and takes a deep breath before followimg Lepp into the room.

[Dragodar]

Inside the room, you see a collection of about half a dozen young children playing with crudely carved wooden toys. The children range in age from about one to five, and in the middle, cross legged on the floor sits a young man of about twenty to twenty five years of age. He is playing with the children merrily, making sound effects with his voice and animated gestures with his hands.

His dark hair spills messily into his eyes and his unshaven face bears a distinct amount of stubble. He glances up at you and his dark brown eyes flash a look of recognition. "Ah, he says. "You must be T'vik." He stands and extends his hand.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik smiles. The whole room reminded him of what he lost. A wave of nostalgia and slight sadness wash over him as he watches the small children play. There was a point in time where this was all he ever wanted. Before the Assassins. Before the killing. He quickly snapped out of it and shook his hand heartily. "Aye, that's me, your lad here damn near robbed me blind. If that's what you're teaching them my hats off to you."

[Dragodar]

"I teach them some of that stuff, but Lepp was already good at it when I found him," Raemon says. "So where is it exactly that you want to take him?"

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik looked at Lepp. Then back at Raemon, "I want to further his training. This kid has boundless potential. He's smart, has a good head on his shoulders. He's already pickpocketed me. Which isn't easy to do for anyone. He's street smart, he has all the tools. But I want to teach him to be more. I can teach him to hide in plain sight. I can teach him how to defend, not only himself, but these children. I can teach him how to climb and escape if he were to ever get in a tight spot. I can teach him more about survival then you ever could." He smiled, already having respect for Raemon, even though he'd just met him, "Not that you haven't done plenty for these children anyway. I am legitimately impressed by what you've done for them. If there is anyway I can help, let me know." He said with a slight bow of respect for the young man standing in front of him.

[Dragodar]

"Kids, go play downstairs," says Raemon to the children. They obediently pause their games, stand, and leave the room, still chatting and laughing with each other. Lepp stands near the doorway, watching intently. "You too, Lepp," he adds. "I'd speak to this man alone for a bit."

Lepp looks as though he's about to protest, then closes his mouth and walks out of sight. Raemon crosses the room and closes the door. Turning to T'vik, he asks bluntly, "How do I know you aren't a slave trader? You think I don't know what easy targets these children make for pirates and slavers? No parents to miss them or search for them, nobody to care for them or notice they're gone. Well, these kids are different. They've got someone looking after them."

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik stares down Raemon, not in a manner meant to intimidate, but in as a show of respect, he already could see that the young man standing in front of him genuinely cared about every single one of those children. He wasn't doing this because he had to, he was doing this because he wanted to. "I would sooner take my own life then let any harm come to a child. You say slave trade is prominent on this island? Let's work together to end it. I'm here on an important mission at the moment, and I think you will be able to help me. I think we may be able to help each other. Let me prove to you that I am who I say I am. Then let's talk about teaming up if that's something you'd see as beneficial."

[Dragodar]

"I don't know why," Raemon begins, "But for some reason I'm inclined to believe you. Your eyes don't lie. I'm typically good at reading people but you might just be a very good liar." He squints slightly, studying your face for signs of deceit.

"How would you propose to prove your integrity?" he asks.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik shrugged. "That's up to you my friend, I'm not gonna come in here speaking of integrity then insist I choose how to prove it to you. That seems like something with a hidden agenda trying to steal your children would do." He said with a wink, "What would you have me do?" He asked.

[Dragodar]

"Well it may surprise you to know that I have some very reliable sources here on the island, and those sources tell me that there is currently one -- and only one -- slaver ship on the island. She is disguised as a merchant ship named The Nomad and she is docked in Mantle right now. She made berth two days ago and her agents are already spread throughout Mantle searching for easy kidnapping victims. My sources tell me that several agents are even in Vale as we speak. So I need you to do me a favor." Raemon pauses, in case T'vik has any questions so far.

"First, I'm going to need you to sneak aboard the ship and find the manifest that lists the false identities of the agents on the island. Second, I will need you to find and kill every kidnapper still on the island. And finally, I would like you to burn the ship to the bottom of the harbor. Since The Nomad is the only slave ship currently on Mistmantle, I'll know for sure that you aren't a slaver if you carry out these favors. Do those three things. Then we'll talk."

Raemon crosses his arms and waits for your response.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik allows himself a small smile. He hadn't killed in what seemed like forever. He was ready to spill blood, especially the blood of slave traders who kidnapped children. He flicked his wrist and his hidden blade shot out. He looked at it, like normal people look at a precious gem stone, or a picture of a loved one, then flicked it again and his blade disappeared. He looked up at Raemon, "They will all die."

[Dragodar]

A grin spreads across Raemon's face. "Cool," he says. "Lepp will be here when you get back."

Raemon crosses the room and opens the door. "After you," he says with a smile, gesturing at the doorway.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik exits the building and makes his way back to the inn to gather the rest of his gear. He checks out of his room and looks for transportation to Mantle. He thinks to himself, I can do both. I can take down a corrupt mayor and end slave trade at the same time. They may even go hand in hand. Maybe I should request help from the Order. He quickly pens a letter, "To the Order of Assassins, Masyaf Chapter, Grand Master Adewalè, In light of new information regarding my current mission, I request the help of Adrianna Seral. This has very quickly become a mission for two Assassins and looking back at our past missions together I feel it would be beneficial to the Order and the mission if you sent her to aid me. I would not ask for help unless the situation called for it.
Nothing is true. Everything is permitted.
Scarlett Embers, T'vik" He tied the letter to Stelios's leg. "Masyaf. Hurry." He watched as his hawk took to the sky and headed towards Masyaf. Turning back to the town he looked around for a way to get to Mantle and begin his missions.

[Dragodar]

After a brief period of asking around, T'vik learns that there are three roads leading from each town to a crossroads at the center of the island. It is about half a days journey to the crossroads, which is just next to Governor Ashby's fortress. The roads traverse the heavily forested hills of the island, and bandits are known to hide out along the roads in order to ambush small groups or individuals who are unable to defend themselves. T'vik decides that the best course of action would likely be to set off in the morning in order to make it to Mantle by sunset.

It is currently about noon, on Tuesday, Kusa 24th.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik makes his way to the outskirts of the city and waits. Watching the comings and goings of the citizens while he waited for sunset. Once the sun went down he lay down, wrapped himself in his bedroll and waited for morning to start his journey to Mantle.

[Dragodar]

Just keep in mind, Vale is a small to medium sized town, not a city. For the purpose of you visualizing it properly~

T'vik sleeps soundly, getting his rest in before the journey ahead of him. He rises with the sun around six AM, and as its rays begin to peak over the horizon, T'vik finishes packing his bedroll. The sky begins to brighten as the dark indigo of night time melts into the soft pink of morning. As the cool sea breeze swirls the mist around the island, T'vik begins his day.

Hint: the journey will be shorter and less tiring if you aren't walking.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik looks around for a mode of transportation, hoping to sneak onto a wagon or steal a horse. Otherwise he feels content to walk to Mantle.

[Dragodar]

T'vik waits near the road to the center of the island and soon sees a wagon passing by. He is able to sneak onto the wagon with ease, without the driver noticing, and soon finds himself well on the way to Mantle.

By the time the wagon reaches the crossroads at the center of the island, it is about eleven o'clock in the morning. T'vik notices that the wagon turns down the road marked Misty Ridge and realizes that it is likely time for him to bail.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik gets off the cart and takes stock of his surroundings. Looking around for any mode of transportation, as he starts to make his way on foot towards Mantle.

[Dragodar]

T'vik finds himself at the crossroads. To the east, about five miles away, atop a very high hill, sits the stone fortress of Lew Ashby. It dominates the area, sitting atop one of the tallest hills in the vicinity. The governor's flag flies from the ballast and from his position on the road, T'vik can vaguely make out the flying colors.

In his nearer surroundings, T'vik is able to read the small dark letters of an old wooden signpost on the corner of the crossroads. The north side of the sign reads Mantle, while the south pointing end reads Vale. Across the road, another, smaller sign points west and reads Misty Ridge. The trees surrounding him are mostly coniferous, and the piney scent of cypresses and cedars sits heavy in the warm noontime air. Scattered amongst the pines are a fair number of deciduous trees as well, including mangroves and lignums. In the sunnier parts of the forest, near the tops of the hills, there is an abundance of palm trees, and many of these island trees decorate the area around the governor's fortress.

The noon sun beats down heavily and the humid atmosphere of the misty island stifles T'vik's senses. He realizes that he feels drowsy and hungry. The sound of tropical birds and the smell of sweet tropical flowers only further these sensations. As he stands at the crossroads, T'vik feels the idyllic nature of the island whispering to him.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik sits down, resting his back against a tree and pulls his trail rations out of his haversack. He eats and allows himself a few moments of peace while he eats, he waits for a few minutes to see if any carts, wagons, or other travelers pass his way going towards Mantle

[Dragodar]

T'vik sits for a moment and munches on his trail rations. After washing down the jerky and dried fruit with a swig of ale, he stands and takes stock of his surroundings. Despite waiting for several minutes, he does not see any wagons or carriages, so he continues toward Mantle on foot.

*****

After about a half hour of walking, T'vik hears hooves behind him. He cannot yet see them, but he guesses that there are between three and five horses. They are gaining on him, which means they are heading in the direction of Mantle. He reckons that they will be within sight in a matter of seconds.

[Nightwing32193]

He turns around and sticks out his thumb in hopes of getting a ride to his destination. He removes his hood and smiles in hopes that they would stop and help him out. At the same time, he keeps his wits about him, in case they end up being hostile.

[Dragodar]

In a matter of seconds, three horses -- a white, a sorrel, and a dun -- round the bend and T'vik sees their riders. Three men, rather heavily armed, sit astride the mounts. They are outfitted in metal armor and carry a number of simple but deadly looking weapons. Seeing T'vik, they pull up and stop on the road. They glance at each other, and then circle around him, grinning in a way that makes T'vik uneasy.

"Alright," says the man on the white horse. "You know the drill. Hand over the pack, your weapons, and any money you've got on you and you can be on your way." The man draws a sword from its scabbard, and the other two knock arrows on their bowstrings. The man on the white horse stares at you, waiting for a response, as his companions train their arrows on you.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik knows he's in trouble. He smiles politely and addresses the obvious bandits. "Woah, gentlemen, let's not get carried away here, I am but a simple traveler. All I've got is this scimitar given to me by my father and some rations for my journey to Mantle."

[Dragodar]

"Alright, those'll do then," the leader says. "Just set them on the ground and Ralph here will come check you for a coinpurse. Then, like I said, you can be on your way." The man gestures to his friend on the sorrel horse, who gives you an ugly smirk while keeping his arrow pointed at your heart.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik smiles disarmingly, "If you say so good sir, just know that, you'll get nothing." He watches as the bandit dismounts and makes his way towards him. The Assassin tenses himself, ready to strike. Hands raised in a mock show of surrender. As the bandit approaches him, he does his best to pinpoint any weaknesses in their armor.

[Dragodar]

The leader smiles, glad that T'vik is complying. He dismounts his horse and walks up to the half elf. Before beginning, he kicks the scimitar and haversack away, toward his horse. Then he steps up to T'vik and tells him "Alright, put your hands out to the sides so I can look for that purse."

Standing directly in front of him, T'vik can smell the bandit's bad breath and see the hairs peeking out of his nose. Time seems to slow for a moment as T'vik takes in the scene, feeling every aspect of his environment with highly trained spacial awareness. If he closed his eyes, T'vik would still know exactly where each of the three bandits was and how they were holding their weapons. The bandit leader takes a step toward T'vik, and time seems to resume it's normal pace.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik waits for the leader to just within arms reach. Then like lightning jams his hidden blade into the bandits neck. Then making himself as small as possible behind the limp body to avoid the arrows whizzing at him.

[Dragodar]

CdG auto hit
Damage: [roll0]
Defender Fort save: [roll1]

(If Fort save is higher than 10 + your damage, he lives)

[Dragodar]

T'vik lunges at the man and slashes across his neck. The bandit, startled by the sudden movement, reflexively moves to the side. T'vik's blow is off but still hits. The man yells in pain as the blade opens the skin on his neck. He falls forward, still alive but disoriented by the surprise and the pain.


Hide behind limp bandit: Tumble check [roll0]


T'vik quickly takes advantage of the chaos and grabs the bandit, holding him in a grapple from behind and using him as cover from the arrows of the other bandits. The mounted men had released their arrows as soon as they saw T'vik making a move, but his actions were so quick that by the time the shafts reached him, they were embedding themselves in the body of the leader.

Both arrows strike him in the chest and he screams in agony, collapsing to the ground.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik again moving as quickly as his body will allow, throw a cloud of dust towards the mounted bandits in an attempt to disorient and startle their horses.

[Dragodar]

SoH check: [roll0]


T'vik tosses a handful of dust at the horses, causes them to whinny and scream, rearing back and bucking. The dun horse throws its rider to the ground and takes off back toward Vale. The rider of the sorrel manages to keep control of his mount. The man on foot scrambles up and draws his sword with a snarl.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik attempts to lunge at the fallen bandit and attack him before he can make it to his feet. Slashing and stabbing at his midsection with his hidden blade.

[Dragodar]

Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]


T'vik slashes at the man, dealing a small amount of damage. The man reacts with a swing of his own, bring his sword down in an upward arc.

[Dragodar]

Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]


The bandit on foot slashes at T'vik and pain shoots through the assassin's body as the blade bites into his arm. By this time, the man on the horse has renocked a new arrow and fires at T'vik.


Attack: [roll2]
Damage: [roll3]


The arrow embeds itself in T'vik's leg. The pain is blinding and T'vik realizes that he is in a bad situation. He must act quickly if he is to survive.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik musters all his remaining strength, operating purely on instinct and adrenaline he moved to pick up his scimitar. He picked it up and immediately swung as hard as he could at the mounted bandit in an attempt to not only would him, but knock him off his horse.

[Dragodar]

T'vik rushes to his scimitar and snatches it from the ground. The mounted bandit takes advantage of this moment of vulnerability to get another shot off.


Attack of Opportunity: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

T'vik uses Quick Feet to gain +4 against this AoO, making his effective AC against this particular attack 21


T'vik nimbly spins aside, dodging the arrow. He raises his scimitar to attack the mounted bandit, just as the man on foot rushes forward.

[Dragodar]

The bandit on foot swings his sword at T'vik in a savage slash.


Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]


In his blind rage, the bandit swings and misses completely as T'vik easily sidesteps the blow. T'vik now has his scimitar in his main hand and his hidden blade in the other.

[Nightwing32193]

As the bandit on foot misses, T'vik slashes at him with his scimitar the follows it up with a stab from his hidden blade. Without waiting around to see the damage the attack has done to his opponent, he does his best to limp his way behind the mounted bandit, ideally putting himself out of the immediate line of fire.

[Dragodar]

Scimitar
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

Hidden Blade
Attack: [roll2]
Damage: [roll3]


T'vik savages the bandit with his scimitar, slicing him across the midsection and thoroughly eviscerating him. He follows up with a twisting stab to the heart, finishing him off. The man's mangled body crumples to the ground as T'vik ducks around behind the horse.

[Nightwing32193]

He looks up quickly at the mounted bandit and gauges whether to flee or fight at this point. He makes his decision and attempts to jump on the back of the horse behind the bandit, plunging his hidden blade into the bandit over and over.

[Dragodar]

Jump check: [roll0]


T'vik attempts to jump onto the horse from behind and shank the bandit, but the wound in his leg causes him to falter. He jumps up, but can't quite make it onto the horse, and he falls backward onto the ground. The horse, feeling T'vik on his flanks, dances away a few steps and turns to face the assassin.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik knows he's in trouble. He closes his eyes and lies still, sprawled out in the middle of the road. Hoping the bandit will mistake him for dead, or at least unconscious.

[Dragodar]

The mounted bandit draws his both and looses another arrow at T'vik, to kill him soundly, or at least to ensure that he is fully dead.

Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]


The bandit's horse is still panicking at the smell of blood and the recent chaos, and it's movements throw off the shot. An arrow slams into the ground right next to T'vik's head, and the bandit curses, slapping his horse on the withers. He reins it in tightly until it stills, then dismounts and approaches T'vik as he draws another arrow to finish the job.

[Nightwing32193]

[roll0]
As the bandit stands above him T'vik quickly opens his eyes, takes a split second to aim his shot and stabs his assailent in the crotch with his hidden blade.

[Dragodar]

Bandit Spot check: [roll0]


The bandit is so convinced by T'vik's faking that he lowers his guard upon approach. He quivers his arrow and puts away his bow. T'vik quickly makes his move and shoves his blade deep into the taint of the unsuspecting bandit, who promptly screams in utter agony and collapses to the ground in tears as his entrails slowly leak out from the new anus that T'vik gave him. The pain is too much and the man begins to vomit and cough up blood. He curls up in the fetal position and weeps.

Looking up at T'vik, who sits next to him on the ground, the bandit manages to say between tears, "Please. Just kill me. End it. Don't leave me here like this. Just kill me now."

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik feels terrible, for a moment, feeling the searing pain in his leg he snarls, "Rest in peace, you son of a bitch." And brings his hidden blade down into the neck of his victim.

[Dragodar]

T'vik stands in the road, surrounded by carnage. The brown horses have both run off, but the leader's white mare stands several paces away, nickering nervously. T'vik realizes that it might be a good idea to get the bodies off the road. The smell of feces leaking out of his most recent kill nearly makes T'vik sick.

T'vik is at 23/36 HP

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik slowly approaches the horse and gently attempts to familiarize himself with the horse. He speaks gently, consoling it after the recent ordeal.
[roll0]

After that he looks at himself with disgust, agonizing pain still red hot in his leg. He removes his white cloak and lays it out on the grass. He does his best to clean up the mess he made, carrying the bodies 30 feet into the woods. When he's done he looks around for a stream to clean himself up in, not wanting to attract unwanted attention.

[Dragodar]

T'vik manages to calm the horse, and tethers it to a tree while he moves the bodies. He is unable to find a stream nearby, however. The blood stains will have to remain for now, unless he can find a means to clean them before he reaches Mantle.


Leader:
Longsword
Breastplate
Dagger
Backpack
Trail Rations (x3)
Waterskin
Silver signet ring
Coinpurse (8 GP)

Disemboweled Bandit:
Longbow
Arrows (x12)
Shortsword
Hide Armor
Backpack
Trail Rations (x3)
Waterskin
Coinpurse (12 SP)

Other bandit:
Shortbow
Arrows (x15)
Longsword
Hide Armor
Backpack
Trail Rations (x3)
Waterskin
Coinpurse (12 SP)

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik immediately takes all the money and trail rations from the bodies. Then he looks around at the weapons. He inspects them carefully seeing if any of them we're superior to the scimitar he was currently wielding. He picks up one of the long swords and slashes at air with it. Debating whether or not to take it. He takes a long, hard look at it before throwing it back on the road. He inspects the armor. But then realizes it was just as messy as his was. He takes off his own bloodstained armor as to not attract the wrong kind of attention and shoves it into his haversack. Underneath the armor he dons a white linen shirt and brown pants. Deciding he would have to deal with lack of protection for the time being, he mounted his newly found steed and continued his journey toward Mantle.

[Dragodar]

T'vik, now mounted on the white mare, makes much faster progress. It is late in the day, and the air is sticky and warm. The island humidity causes T'vik's clothes to stick to his skin, and his wounds sting with sweat. Nothing sounds more pleasant right now than the cool, dark interior of a pub and a chilled ale. As he passes through the tropical forest -- more a jungle than a forest -- T'vik hears the strange and foreign sounds of island birds, the rustling of wind in the leaves, the bubbling whisper of a nearby river, and the steady clop of his horse's hooves on the dirt road.

Over the next hour or so, he passes two different carts heading in the opposite direction. Both exchange friendly nods and polite hellos. Soon, T'vik arrives at a bridge. It appears he has crossed paths with the river he heard earlier, and where the bridge crosses it, it is about twenty feet wide, though relatively shallow looking. It dances by with a lively current, and upstream, T'vik sees a strange exotic animal resembling a deer or small antelope drinking from its waters. It glances up and sees him, then darts off into the jungle.

[Nightwing32193]

Before reaching Mantle he attempts to find the river and wash his armor and tend to his wounds as best he can.

[Dragodar]

T'vik is able to get most of the blood out of his armor and clothing, but a good deal of it has dried into the fabric and stained it. He recalls that the Assassins have access to a substance called peroxide that is capable of removing bloodstains entirely. He makes a mental note to request a bottle from the Order the next time he's able to.

Having cleaned his armor and clothing, and rebound his wounds, T'vik redons his armor and sets off once again toward Mantle. The sun is growing low in the sky, and T'vik guesses that he must be close by now.

*****

Just as the sun is beginning to set, and the long purple shadows of the jungle are closing in around him, T'vik rounds a bend and sees the town of Mantle sprawled out before him. He didn't realize he had gained as much altitude as he had during his journey, but he is high on a hill above sea level, and the road wind back and forth toward Mantle through the last leg of remaining jungle.

Spread around the bay at the north side of the island, Mantle is noticeably bigger than Vale. Whereas Vale was but a waterfront town, Mantle is a full fledged city, booming with business and livelihood.


http://i.imgur.com/Wr8VJj5.jpg

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik buckles on his armor and puts his Assassin's robes back on. He looks down at himself, why white? Why not red? Or black? He makes a note to himself to buy fabric dye as soon as he reached the town. He gets back on his horse and resumes his journey towards Mantle. Once he reaches the town, he finds the first place that sells fabric dye and buys a dark mahogany color. After learning that it will take a day to finish he leaves his robes at the shop but keeps his armor on. After exiting the shop he looks around for an inn, preferably one with a bar attached to it.

[Dragodar]

T'vik leaves his robes with the dyer and then finds the nearest inn. The Farmer's Flagon is a quiet inn with no tavern attached. T'vik makes his way to his bedroom and beds down for the night as the sounds of the nighttime lull him to sleep.

*****

T'vik rises refreshed and renewed in purpose. It is Thursday, and he sent Stelios to Masyaf on Tuesday. He should be able to expect a reply by tomorrow, which gives him time to investigate this slaver ship while his main objective is on hold.

During the night, T'vik regains 8 HP (Lvl 5 + CON 3). He is now at 31/36 HP

[Nightwing32193]

He makes his way downstairs and exits the inn. He took some time and scouted the area immediately around where he was staying for the time being. Looking for anything that could cause future problems for him. Weaving his way through the streets around the inn he looks for guard patrols and posts. Then finally he found the highest, closest building to use as a vantage point for a hawk's eye view of the area. He climbs it and looks around to town, making a mental map as he does so.

[Dragodar]

T'vik sees a tall spire near the center of town, by the river and the bay. It is likely the tallest point in the town. From there, he is able to get a vantage point and take his mental picture of the area. Mantle is a bayside town, with two small islands in the bay and a plethora of docks along the water. A third island sits in the mouth of the bay and houses a lighthouse and a garrison with Mantle's militia. The lighthouse seems to be significantly taller than the church spire, mainly because of the elevation of the third and largest island in Mantle bay, but T'vik is unable to find a way to the island... for now.

From the church spire, T'vik can see that the town is roughly divided into various districts, including a tavern district, residential areas for both upper and lower classes, several marketplaces, and even a quaint park on the larger of the two islands. From the church spire, T'vik is not able to discern much more thn this, but the wealthier residential housing seems to be on the east side of the bay, away from the main part of town and across the river from T'vik.

It is about 10 o'clock in the morning.


(circled in red)
http://i.imgur.com/nb2Hhws.jpg

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik makes his way down from the church spire and begins to make his way towards the docks in hopes that he'd quickly find the Nomad. While walking through the streets he does his best to blend with the crowd as to not draw attention to himself. From under the hood his eyes dart around staying alert, scanning the crowd for potential threats.

[Dragodar]

T'vik soon finds himself walking through the waterfront district, along myriad piers and quays. The smell of fish is intensely powerful here; fresh fish, rotten fish, frozen fish, fish on ice -- all mingled with the salty scents of tangy sea air and sweaty, unwashed dock workers. The steady slap of waves, the calls of dock workers, and the thump of unloading fish mingle with the cries of seagulls and other scavengers.

The buildings in the waterfront district are, for the most part, in poor repair. The wealthier elite of Mantle tend not to frequent this part of the city, so most of those who come to do business cannot afford to send servants, or are servants themselves. The majority of the shops are simple stalls and wagons, and street crime is fairly rampant here. T'vik has seen many a waterfront district in his time, and this one is hardly different. The main difference is the presence of the two large islands connected to the mainland by bridge. They are as much a part of the city as the rest, and contain more wharfs of their own.

***

Off to his right, a woman calls to T'vik. "You there, sir, in the hood! You look mighty hungry! How's about a piping hot piece of battered and fried cod? Caught right here off the coast not two hours ago!"

From an alleyway on his left, T'vik a man staggers into the street holding the back of his head. His clothes are dirty and disheveled and his pockets are turned out. He looks disoriented and groggy.

Ahead of him, near the edge of the pier, an older man lies on his back in the sun, snoring loudly and loosely gripping a half empty alcohol bottle which seems precariously close to falling into the bay.

[Nightwing32193]

Tvik ignores the vendor and walks over to the man on the pier. Helping him off the edge so he was no longer in danger of falling in, he removed his hood and smiled, "Easy there sailor, don't want to be fallin' in now. What are you drinking?" He took the bottle from the man and took a drink. Still smiling and being as friendly as possible.

[Dragodar]

"Eh?" the man mumbles. "Rum, I think." He watches T'vik take a sip and with a slight frown of confusion or indignation (it's hard to tell since he's so drunk) he says "Hey, that's... mine!" He closes his eyes and falls asleep peacefully, resuming his snoring.

[Nightwing32193]

Tvik laughs quietly to himself and takes another sip of the rum. It was fiery, sailor rum. He winces slightly and puts it back in the unconscious man's hand. He pulls his hood back on and continues down the pier. Keeping his eyes and ears open for any mention of The Nomad.
He also looks around for the nearest pub.

[Dragodar]

T'vik does not have to look far to find a pub. The waterfront district is full of them. Just a few steps down the road, he comes across The Black Chandelier. Upon entering, T'vik sees the pub's namesake hangning from the ceiling above the bar, dominating the room. The lighting here is low, and the patrons are not particularly noisy. It seems like a rough sort of bar. The clientele appears to consist more of sailors and adventurers than farmers and fishers. T'vik is comfortable, knowing he can handle himself, but he makes a mental note to keep his wits about him in this place.

Nearly half a dozen tables are seated, surrounded by large intimidating men with nasty looking weapons. The members of each table speak only amongst themselves, and nobody here looks very welcoming to visitors. The man behind the bar is a massive native islander, covered in tattoos. His black hair is braided in a hundred tiny braids, and his ears are pierced with unfriendly looking spikes and what looks to be a large fang of some kind. He quietly polishes a mug while his dark brown eyes rove around the bar.

Nobody looks up when T'vik enters except the bartender. He gives T'vik a silent nod, then returns to scanning the bar, on the lookout for any kind of trouble. Light streams in through grimy unwashed windows and the large Black Chandelier burns small candles, but other than these there is no light and the bar feels distinctly dim.

[Nightwing32193]

Keeping in mind this may not be the best place to find answers, he leaves his hood up to avoid his face being seen as well in the dimly lit pub and slowly walks toward the bar. Tvik sits down and orders a drink. He turns around to face the bar, looking for details that may further his investigation, such as tattoos, symbols on clothing etc...
After making looking around, avoiding staring at these tough looking men, he turns back to his drink and strains his ears to pick up any conversation that may be useful.

[Dragodar]

The tattoos on the bartender appear to be ritualistic native markings. Beyond revealing that he is an islander, they yield little information. The men at the tables are speaking in low voices, and T'vik is only able to pick up a word here and there. He hears a few scraps of conversation from the table closest to him.

The table in question houses three men: a small wiry looking man with a pointy beard, a significant number of piercings, and dark leather clothing; an average sized man with fiery red hair clothed in some kind of light dun hide; and a colossal native with dark eye shadow and a braid that hangs past his belt. The last man is shirtless and heavily tattooed, and presents quite an intimidating specimen.

***

"...no more shipments..." T'vik hears the wiry man muttering to his companions.

There is more low murmur and T'vik picks up from the redhead "...only another week or so..." The large native sits with his arms crossed and a dangerous scowl on his face. He says nothing but listens intently.

"...but he won't do that unless..." from the wiry man. More muttering...

"...won't make a difference anyway..." from the redhead. Low voices...

"...we have to ... don't have a choice..." from the wiry man.

The giant speaks up for the first time and T'vik catches something along the lines of "...break him..."

***

Obviously these men aren't the friendliest crew, but T'vik is not able to glean many details from the quiet conversation. The two small white men look at the large native with what seems like trepidation, then the wiry man nods solemnly. The redhead glances at the small man and shrugs, also nodding.

T'vik is unable to hear anything from the other tables as they are too far away and too quiet.

[Nightwing32193]

Tvik waits and finishes his drink and waits for the two sailors to leave, tipping the bartender generously, leaves the bar. Looking to tail the two white, foreign looking men.
As he makes his way out of the bar back on to the crowded street he takes a quick look around for them, then asks the nearest, friendliest looking street vendor, "Hey there, the Nomad, it's a ship, have you heard of it?".

[Dragodar]

T'vik waits for the group to leave, but they don't seem to be in any hurry. Almost two hours later, they are still sitting at the their table, drinking mostly in silence, as though they are waiting for something or biding their time. T'vik starts to realize that if he hangs around much longer, it may look suspicious.

It is almost three o'clock in the afternoon.

[Nightwing32193]

He shakes his head and curses silently to himself. He leaves money on the table for the bartender and exits the bar. Adjusting his eyes to the sunlight he looks around for a street vendor to ask about the Nomad.

[Dragodar]

The vendor T'vik spots first is a slender man with black hair and a goatee. The man responds "Haven't heard of it, but about a hundred ships dock here every day. If you want info on ships and where they're quayed, you'll have to consult the books of the customs officer. He most likely won't let you though."

[Nightwing32193]

"Of course, thanks mate. Any idea as to where I might be able to find him? Worth a shot right?" he replied, smiling. Pulling out a silver piece and tossing it to the man, "Just point me in the right direction."

[Dragodar]

"Hmm," the man says. "I might know where it is. Depends how much spare coin you've got."

[Nightwing32193]

Tvik looks at him, smiles gone. Turning to the nearest bystander he asks, "I'm looking for the cumstoms officer, would you be able to point me in the right direction?"

[Dragodar]

A large man carrying a heavy looking sack over his shoulder gruffly responds to T'vik's question.

"Customs office is on Park Island," the man says, pointing at the large island in the bay. "Just follow the waterfront east until you come to the bridge and that will take you right across to Park Island. If you find yourself on The Finger, you've gone too far. Once you reach the park someone will be able to point you in the right direction."

The man adjusts the large bag and continues on his way down the pier.


O = You, at the Black Chandelier
X = The park on Park Island
http://i.imgur.com/VKwGQNa.jpg

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik looks back at the shop owner and slowly lifts a middle finger in his direction. Walking away, east down the water front in the direction the man sent him, still flipping the douchey shop owner off.
He heads towards the island, weaving in and out of the crowd, doing his best not to disrupt the flow of the people. Once he makes it to the bridge he looks around for the customs building.

[Dragodar]

Th vendor scowls furiously at T'vik and then goes back to his work, violently slamming objects around in his stall as he angrily organizes it. He mutters to himself, glancing up at T'vik every now and then as he does.

T'vik ambles down the pier at a leisurely pace, slipping through the crowd fluidly. There are many large ships quayed here, massive trading ships and fishing boats, loading and unloading all manner of merchandise. The salty smell of the waterfront permeates the air as the hot afternoon sun beats down on the humid bay, causing the pungent smell of fish to strengthen. T'vik passes dozens of ships, including The Dunmore, Valhalla. The Meon, Albeon's Pride, The Marlin, Sands of Séppeca, and Vampire's Bite... But he does not see the Nomad.

He soon reaches the massive bridge that spans the bay and connects Park Island to the mainland. It is truly a work of engineering genius. Nearly 60 feet across and a quarter mile long, the enormous structure dominates the vicinity and rows of traffic meander up and down it's length. It is easily wide enough for two opposite lanes of carriage traffic, with spare room for pedestrians on the sides. T'vik soon finds himself walking toward the island, nearly thirty feet above the water below.

***

Before long, T'vik finds himself in The Park. It is a quaint little area, with soft green grass and a number of trees and shrubs. There is even a small pond near the center, and T'vik sees several young children frolicking in its shallows while their mother's watch carefully from a distance.

Glancing up at the sky, T'vik notices the position of the sun just over the rooftops of the houses and reckons it's between four and five in the evening.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik removes his hood and sits down in the grass. Pulling out his cantina he takes a drink and looks around, taking in his surroundings, always looking for threats but, avoiding any confrontation, looking as friendly as possible, and looking for the office where he may be able to find answrs about the ship he's looking for.

[Dragodar]

T'vik looks around but does not see any distinguishing indicators of a customs office. He supposes he'll have to ask someone for directions.

[Nightwing32193]

He stows his cantina and looks around for someone to ask, looking around for an honest, working class citizen that wouldn't suspect anything or ask too many, if any, questions. After finding one "Hey there, I seem to be a bit lost here mate, any idea where I can find the customs office?"

[Dragodar]

T'vik catches sight of a man in a straw hat and bare feet pushing a wheel barrow and asks him.

"Aye, lad, just turn yourself around and head back toward the bridge, take a right at the end of the park and then another right. You'll see it up on your left."


http://i.imgur.com/WJNIQUW.jpg

[Nightwing32193]

"Thank you sir. Much appreciated." He followed the directions to 50 feet from the customs office and started his reconnaissance. He looked around for the officer himself, any guards, defenses, anything that would make obtaining the information he was after easier.

[Dragodar]

The Customs Office is heavily guarded. There are two guards at the door wielding halberds, and guards at each corner of the building with swords. There are also guards on the roof with bows and arrows. This comes as no surprise to T'vik, seeing as this is the Main Customs Office of a major port city. There are small windows on the front of the building, but T'vik is unable to see the rest of the building from here.

He makes his way behind a building a couple buildings away from the Office to the northwest, and scales its wall quickly, with relative ease. From there he is able to leap across to the building directly next to the Office. Being careful to stay hidden from the archers behind an outcropping, T'vik observes the Customs Office from his new vantage point. The front and back have windows, but the sides do not. The roof is flat and open, with a waist high wall around the edge, and a single staircase structure in the center. Four archers patrol the sides of the building.

This is going to be a difficult process, but T'vik is confident that with enough planning he can handle it. It is currently just after 5 PM.

[Nightwing32193]

Tvik sits down on the roof, back against the small wall and closes his eyes. Mind working methodically, trying to come up with a plan to break into the office.
He sits there til sundown, then looks to see if there were guard changes taking place. If there were, this was his opportunity. If not, then he waits for the cover of darkness to make his move.

[Dragodar]

T'vik bides his time on the roof for almost three hours, waiting for sunset.

Between 7 and 8 o'clock, when the sun is still about an hour from setting, T'vik notices the shift change. Four guards exit the stairway door on the roof, and the archers who were posted during the day relax their guard and make their way to the door with relief. Down on the ground, the same thing is happening. New guards, arrived from somewhere up the street, relieve the swordsmen posted around the building.

Both the new archers on the roof and the new swordsmen on the street are equipped with lanterns. The halberdsmen are also relieved, and two bright lamps are lit above the front doors of the building. Though it is still plenty light out, dusk is approaching, and they are preparing for night time.

[Nightwing32193]

Tvik takes note of the shift change. The best time to make his move now will be at dawn, if they stuck to normal shift changes.
Assuming he'd have that long to wait.
Tvik looked through his pack, he had an idea. Taking out his trail rations he dropped them over the side of building into the alley between his building and the customs office. Waiting to make sure the guards were looking in the other direction, he used his skill as an Assassin and dropped nimbly down into the alley after his food. Checking around to see if anyone noticed he picked up his food and began munching. Feigning drunkenness he stumbled out of the alley into the street, singing softly to himself.
"I was down the glen one Easter morn
To a city fair rode I
There armed lines of marching men
In squadrons passed me by
No pipe did hum, no battle drum did sound it's loud tattoo..." he trailed off as he walked off down the street.

[Dragodar]

T'vik drops his the trail ration over the edge of the building. Waiting for a good moment, he slides over the edge and scales his way down quickly and silently.


Hide Check [roll0]
Move Silently Check [roll1]

[Dragodar]

T'vik moves down the wall, completely invisible, like a wraith. But halfway down, his foot bumps a loose stone from a window sill and it clatters in the alley below. The two swordsmen at the north and west corners spin around, staring into the alley and holding their lanterns aloft. "Who's there?" calls the guard at the north corner, near the street.

T'vik freezes just within the shadow of the adjacent building. The moon is bright tonight, but T'vik's assassin training taught him to stick to the shadows, and now he's very glad he did. The guards both approach each other, moving toward the center of the alleyway. The west corner guard lets out a low whistle, three quick tweets, and the west corner archer peeks his head over the edge of the building.

"What?" asks the archer. The guard below points at his eyes, then back west at the waterfront, letting the archer know to watch ground level at his corner while he investigates the alleyway. The swordsman spins his fingers and points at the north corner guard as well, letting the archer know to give the same instruction to his companion at the north corner.

The two swordsmen continue to approach each other until they meet in the middle of the alleyway. T'vik remains frozen, halfway down the wall, hidden in the shadows. The guards look around, and one of them spots the trail rations in the middle of the road. "What the hell...?" he mutters as he bends over and picks them up.

"What is it?" asks the other guard.

"Food..." the first man responds, slightly perplexed. "Someone left a perfectly good ration pack out here." The guard tears open the pouch and inspects the contents.

"Split it," pleads the other guard. "I'm starving." The first guard gives him a handful of the rations and takes the rest for himself. They return to their respective corners and munch quietly. The west guard gives the same whistle and the archers resume their normal watch.

T'vik sighs in relief.

[Nightwing32193]

Tvik continues his way down to the alley. Making as little noise as possible, he sticks to the shadows and looks around at the guards. He looks down and picks up a medium sized pebble next to him and puts it in his pocket. Picking his moment as well as he could as to not alert the archers, he attempts to scale the wall of the customs office. Hanging off the side he takes the pebble out of his pocket and tosses it to the other side of the roof in an attempt to lure the guards away from him so he could make it to the stairwell in the middle on the roof.

[Nightwing32193]

[roll0]
[roll1]

[roll2]
[roll3]
[roll4]

[Dragodar]

As T'vik slides down the wall and crosses the alleyway, one of the swordsmen catches sight of movement and shouts. "You there! Stop!" Both swordsmen rush toward T'vik as the archers above look over the wall to see what's happening.

[Nightwing32193]

Tvik puts up his hands and stands still. This wasn't a fight he could win. "I'm in the middle of a race here mates, be a pity if I lost this purse, only thing keeping my son alive!" He called out, attempting to get the guards closer.


[roll0]

[Dragodar]

The guards pause, swords raised. The guard to T'vik's left quints suspiciously. "What race?" he asks.

"Oh don't listen to him, Boris, he's a prowler," says the one to T'vik's right. "Just trying to weasel his way out."

"Well, we've got him surrounded, George," Boris responds. "Might as well hear him out." Boris looks back at T'vik after addressing his companion. "Well? Talk."

[Nightwing32193]

He lowered his arms but kept them in full view of the guards. Looking closely at the two swordsmen, he observed as best he could their alertness and how ready they were to lash out, should he attempt an escape, "Kind sirs, don't stop me now, I'm nearly finished. My son, ya see, has a rare disease called catch-you-fooking-later!". With that he ran as fast as he could at the lazier looking of the two guards, ducking and weaving attempting to make it out of the alley.
[roll0]

[Dragodar]

As T'vik launches past Boris, the man swings wildly with his sword, attempting to strike the fleeing assassin.


Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

[Dragodar]

The blow strikes T'vik cutting his arm and him to wince in pain. He keeps running, but now Boris and George are in hot pursuit, and calling to the archers, who begin firing.


Archer 1
Attack:[roll0]
Damage:[roll1]

Archer 2
Attack:[roll2]
Damage:[roll3]

Archer 3
Attack:[roll4]
Damage:[roll5]

[Dragodar]

The first arrow flies past T'vik's ear and glances harmlessly off of the cobblestones. The other two, unfortunately, are better shots. The first arrow strikes T'vik in the leg and he stumbles momentarily as he feels its sting. The second strikes him in the back, piercing deep into his shoulder. He cries out but his instinct for survival and his assassin training tell him to keep moving. He hears shouts behind him and realizes some kind of alarm is being raised. He needs to fix this situation, and fast.

T'vik is at 14/36 HP
Between 11 o'clock and midnight on Monday, July 26th

[Nightwing32193]

Keeping his focus despite the pain, he dodges the incoming attacks as best he could, looking around for anywhere to hide. Once he spies an adequate place he ducks in and waits to see if the guards find him, or pass him by.
[roll0]

[Dragodar]

T'vik expertly dodges into a small nook in a narrow alleyway off the main road, and the guards run right past him, none the wiser. T'vik hears their confused conversation as they look for him.

"He was just here" says George's voice.

"I know, I saw him too," Boris responds. "Then he was just gone, lickety split..."

"He just vanished..." George mutters in bewilderment.

***

T'vik hears the sound of more guards arriving and listen with amusement as the perplexed duo tries to explain how they lost the man they were tailing so closely. After several minutes, the guards decide to give up the search and return to their posts. T'vik has time to think about his wounds and realizes that he is very weak from blood loss and is also in a great deal of pain.

[Nightwing32193]

The pain far outweighed his amusement. He had gotten the arrow out of his leg and broken the one lodged in his back against a wall. He thought to himself how fortunate it was that he had dyed his robes red. It was an ironic silver lining. He slunk down, head in his hands. This was gonna be more difficult then he thought. Squirming in pain, he decided to stand up and get back to an inn to wait out the night. Though he was injured, T'vik did his best to avoid being seen and move quickly and silently across the rooftops of Mantle.

[Dragodar]

The Stag's Leap is a quiet, unassuming inn nearby on Park Island. T'vik enters and asks for a room, careful to disguise his limp and the blood. For the thousandth time, he thanks the gods for the special material that his assassin's robes are fashioned from; they absorb blood and act both to staunch the bleeding and prevent and dripping of blood, making it much harder to track a bleeding assassin.

The sleepy innkeeper notices nothing amiss and gives T'vik the key to a room near the back. T'vik tends to his wounds, cleans them and wraps them tightly, and passes into a deep slumber.

******

T'vik awakes feeling stiff and pained. The wounds he sustained yesterday are throbbing. The next few days will be unpleasant. He rises and dresses, ready to continue his mission.

During the night, T'vik regains 8 HP (Lvl 5 + CON 1). He is now at 20/36 HP.

It is almost 9 o'clock in the morning on Tuesday, Kusa 27th.

[Nightwing32193]

He stares at the wall. Pain is the only thing he can feel. "I'm gonna wait for Adrianna. This is getting ridiculous." He thinks to himself. Last nights happenings taught him an important lesson: Mantle is a two person job.

[Dragodar]

T'vik hears a knock at the door of his bedroom.

[Nightwing32193]

Cautiously, he stands up. Wincing, he hobbles over to the door and stands still, listening carefully, expecting the rattle of chain mail worn by the guards. "Yes, who is it?" He calls, doing his best to not let the pain make his voice faulter.

[Dragodar]

"It's Lepp. Open up." T'vik recognizes the boy's voice and breathes a sigh of relief. The relief is immediately followed by confusion at why the boy is here and how he found T'vik.

[Nightwing32193]

He cracked open the door and peered out looking around, making sure the boy was alone before opening it the rest of the way. "It's not that I'm not happy to see you lad, but how the **** did you find me?"

[Dragodar]

"Been following you since Vale," the boy responds. "Raemon told me to watch you and make sure sure that you were actually trying to take down The Nomad. He said that once I was sure you're actually a good chap I should help you." Lepp pauses.

"Can I come in?"

[Nightwing32193]

Tvik sighs, the pain still shooting through his body from his wounds he sustained while attempting to gather information about the ship. He knows he shouldn't lose his temper, "Yes, you can help me dress the arrow wound on my back, I can't quite reach it." He says calmly and opens the door to let the boy in.

[Dragodar]

Lepp enters the room. "I would have helped earlier, but Raemon said I had to be absolutely sure you weren't just putting on some kind of show in case you knew I was following you. Once you took those arrows, I was pretty sure you're legit."

He plops down on the end of the bed and swings his legs, looking around. "So. What do you need me to do?"

[Nightwing32193]

It was taking all his self control to not smack Lep in the face. "There's clothe and medical supplies in my bag, clean out the wound as best you can, then I'm going to need you to cauterize it for me, do you think you can do that? If not, just wrap it up as best you can, I don't need any other bodily harm done today."

[Dragodar]

"I got it," says Lepp calmly, as he rummages through the bag. He pulls out a cloth and dips it in teh bowl of water on the bedside table. He wrings it out and begins to gently dab the wound. After a couple minutes he pours some of the peroxide on the cloth and dabs that on the wound as well. T'vik grits his teeth at the sting but wait for Lepp to finish. Finally, the boy finishes cleaning it; he's done a near perfect job and T'vik wonders if he's done this before.

"Okay," he says. "How do you want me to cauterize it?"

[Nightwing32193]

Tvik removes his hidden blade and hands it to the boy, "Hold this in the flames until its glowing. Be sure not to hurt yourself." He said, motioning to the fire he had already made in the rooms fireplace. "Then press it one the wound, you got it clean yeah? Not going to give me some gross infection?"

[Dragodar]

"It's clean," Lepp says confidently.

Lepp looks at the blade with slight trepidation for a moment but takes it and follow T'vik's instructions. After about thirty seconds, the blade is red hot. Lepp returns to the bed.

"Alright," he says. "You ready...?"

[Nightwing32193]

"No, but **** it, get it over with." He says, biting down hard on a piece of leather, tensing his body. No matter how many times you've done this, it still is almost worse then actually getting wounded in the first place

[Dragodar]

"Alright, here we go," says Lepp. "One, two --"

Without saying three, Lepp quickly presses the hot metal onto the oozing wound, and a whining sizzling sound accompanies the immediate smell of burnt flesh. He holds it for about two seconds, the quickly removes it and douses the blade in the bowl of water.

[Nightwing32193]

Tvik puts his head in the pillow and yells loudly. Sits up and smiles at Lep,"Thank you lad. Now, what's up?"

[Dragodar]

Lepp raises his eyebrows. "I was going to ask you the same question," he says. "Judging by last night, you need help with The Nomad. So. I'm here to help." He looks at you expectantly.

[Nightwing32193]

Tvik nods, "Ay, you're not wrong. Last night didn't quite work out as well as it could've. If we're going to make this work I'm gonna need you to be an adorable little orphan and cause an adorable little scene, get as many people as possible looking at you. I don't care if you cry rape or use fake blood, how you do it is up to you, I just can get any more arrows shot into me."

[Dragodar]

Lepp looks thoughtfully at the ground. "Hmm... We could do that. But it would draw a lot of attention. Alternatively, I could just nick some keys from one of the Customs guards." Lepp reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small key ring with four or five keys on it. He tosses it onto the bed.

"I notice you like to do things the loud way instead of the easy way," he says with a wry smile. "Maybe I can be of some help in that area."

[Nightwing32193]

Tvik punches the wall next to him then laughs heartily. Laying back on the bed he continues laughing as wave after wave of relief crashes over him. "You're a gift from the gods lad. Let's grab a bite to eat and wait til sundown. Sound good?"

[Dragodar]

A huge smile spreads across Lepp's face. "Food sounds good," he says. "They have this really delicious fried cod at a vendor cart right near this inn." He races out of the room and rushes down the stairs, leaving the door swinging on it's hinges.


***DING DING DING***
Congratulations, your character has just leveled up.
* T'vik is now Level 6. *
Consult with your GM if you have questions about leveling up your character.

[Nightwing32193]

Tvik yelled after him to stop and wait. Sitting up on the bed he buckled his hidden blade back onto his wrist and buckled his armor and robe back on. Leaving his scimitar as to not draw too much attention, followed Lep down to the cart and bought them both food. Before taking a bite he asks "How'd you know about this place lad?"

[Dragodar]

"Stole some fish from them earlier today," he responds between mouthfuls of cod. "Pretty good, huh?"

[Nightwing32193]

Tvik laughs and nods, he beckons Lep to follow him as the walk around the island, taking in the sights and smells. Making their way back to the customs office, the odd looking pair sit down on the grass and continue to eat, watching the comings and goings. Looking at the guards specifically for any signs of weaknesses, but also any suspicious characters that they may have to deal with later.

[Dragodar]

T'vik and Lepp sit and cheerily munch their fried fish as they observe the comings and goings around the Customs Office. Lepp's legs hang over the bulwark and his toes almost reach the water. Typical noontime traffic mills about on the waterfront and the guards at the Customs Office man their posts with bored looks on their faces.

It is just after noon on Friday, Kusa 27th.

[Nightwing32193]

After awhile T'vik gets up and beckons Lep to follow. He leads him around the customs office to a building a little way away that looked easily climbable, but still tall enough to use as a decent vantage point. He looks at the youngster and says, "How well can you climb, Lep?".

[Dragodar]

The lad frowns slightly. "I'm not terrible," he says. "But I'm not amazing. Why?"

[Nightwing32193]

Tvik scrambles up the wall and looks back at Lepp, "Follow me if you can lad"

[Dragodar]

Lepp watches in amazement as T'vik effortlessly moves up the wall. The boy follows but at a slower pace, struggling in certain places. Finally, Lepp catches up with T'vik and stands on the roof, looking out over the city. The hot noontime sun blazes down, and there's no shade up on the roof. T'vik already feels himself beginning to break a sweat, and Lepp is red faced and breathing hard from the climb.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik takes a deep breath and smiles at Lepp, "Very nice Lepp, not bad at all." He casually walks over to the edge and looks out over the island, specifically at the customs office to see if a new view presented itself.
After a few minutes he decided the sun was too hot. They climbed down and went in search of some ice water.

[Dragodar]

The view from on top of the building was a wider vista than from the ground, but it did not reveal anything about the Customs Office that T'vik did not already know. The two companions climb down the building and go in search of ice water.

It takes almost an hour, but T'vik is finally able to locate a vendor who sells ice. The man is extremely tall and slender, with dark skin and short black hair. He wears loose, brightly colored exotic robes.

T'vik asks him about the ice and the man responds slowly in a smooth, deep voice. "Yes, good sir. I have ice. It has been transported from the Northern Isles and our supply is slowly melting in a dark storeroom somewhere in one of our warehouses. I have a small amount here with me in an insulated box, if you would like some. It is ten gold pieces per pound. Or if you would simply like one glass of ice water, you may buy one for three gold pieces."

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik looks at him, slightly shocked. He understands the supply and demand of ice, but 3 gold pieces is sort of ridiculous in his mind. He looks down at Lepp, clearly not as accustomed in the same way that he was, he made a choice,"One for the lad, I'll find my own.".
He looks up at the son, back still sore from the arrow wound he learns Lepp back to his hotel. Handing him a small dagger the he picked up between vale and Mantle, he bids the boy stand guard while he sleeps, "Any trouble wake me immediately, I don't care if you have to scream like a small girl, wake me at sunset."

[Dragodar]

Lepp chugs down the icy water and hands the cup with ice to T'vik. "Here, just put more water in it and you can have some too." The companions head down the road toward T'vik's inn. As they walk down the docks, they are passed by a small group of about five town guards, running at a light jog with determined looks on their faces. Something must be amiss somewhere.

The sun is growing low in the sky as they return to the inn. The purple shadows of evening begin to stretch across the road. From above, T'vik hears a raven's call. He ignores it at first, until he realizes that there is no raven population on this island. Looking up, he sees a large black raven alighted on one of the buildings to his left. It is looking right at him and ***** its head to the side when he looks up. The bird eyes him curiously, as though waiting.

T'vik recognizes Umber, Adrianna's Raven companion. Knowing that Assassin familiars are trained to wait for a signal before approaching their target (in case their presence would give away the Assassin's location or compromise a mission), T'vik realizes that he will have to beckon to Umber if he wants the bird to approach.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik looks around out his window before beckoning the raven. A fleeting thought crosses mind, were those guards they had passed earlier on the some sort of Arianna's doing? He shook his head and smiled. Hopefully this wasn't the case but not entirely unlikely. He beckomed the raven. Once it was in his room he checked his leg for any notes from his fellow Assassin.

[Dragodar]

T'vik makes the signal for Umber to follow him, and makes his way back to the inn with Lepp. Once they are in the room, T'vik opens the window nad motions for Umber to enter. The large bird flies in through the window and alights on the table. T'vik sees that there are actually two notes attached to its leg. One bears the wax seal of the Order of Assassins, the other is tied with string and unmarked.

Scarlet Ember,

We have received your message and the council has agreed to send aid. Adrianna Seral has been dispatched to your location and should be arriviing on Mistmantle by Monday. Her ship will dock in the same port that you arrived in, on the south side of the island in Vale. Maintain contact and keep the council updated on the progress of your current mission.

Nothing is True, Everything is Permitted.
Grand Master Adewalè

T'vik,

The Council has sent me to Mantle (at your request?) and I will be arriving in a few days. Stelios was tired from the journey so I sent Umber. I'll have Stelios with me when I arrive. Keep your head down until I get there, we don't need you dying before I arrive. When I dock, I will send Stelios to find you so you can send me your location. I've missed you, T'vik; it'll be good to see you again.

Adrianna

T'vik finishes reading the notes, then turns to Lepp, handing him the dagger. "Any trouble, wake me immediately, I don't care if you have to scream like a small girl, wake me at sunset," he tells the boy.

Lepp nods and deftly flips the dagger a few times in his hand, testing the weight. "Get some sleep," he says. He takes a seat in the wooden chair as T'vik opens the window to release Umber.

"Go get yourself some food, then come back," T'vik tells the raven. He closes the window, walks over to the bed, and lays down. The Assassin closes his eyes and drifts off to the sound of Lepp tossing and catching the dagger.

*********************************************

T'vik is awakened by Lepp shaking him gently. "Sun's just about to go down," the boy says. He steps back and takes a seat on the chair as T'vik wakes and rises. "So," Lepp asks, "What's the plan?"

It is about 8 PM on Friday, Kusa 27th.

[Nightwing32193]

Tvik sits up and rubs his eyes, sighing he reaches in to his haversack and pulls out his flask. After taking a stiff pull he hands it to Lepp. "The plan is to get into the customs office and find the docking manifest. How we go about doing that is quite simple now. I sneak right up to the door and let myself in with the keys you gave me." He looks at Lepp, grinning, "Easy as maiden on her sisters wedding night." He stands up and stretches before buckling on his light armor, scimitar and making sure his hidden blade was secured around his wrist. Kneeling in front of the young boy he looked him directly in the eyes, all joking times aside, "Listen Lepp, if anything bad happens tonight, run like hell, alright? Deny you've ever seen me, do not let these men know that you're in any way connected to me. Got it? I need you to get out in front of the building and just keep a look out. If anything out of the ordinary happens, new guard, authority figures, anything. Make your best animal call alright? Let's hear it once" He ruffles the boys hair, smiles, and opens the door. Walking out of the inn into the street towards the building. His hood still down he made is way quickly and quietly thought the back alleys towards the customs office. When they were in view he immediately inspects the guards. Are they the same ones from the night before. Do they look tired? Was he going to be able to hide in the shadows right up til he reached the door?

[Dragodar]

Lepp lets out a gull cry that is so realistic T'vik worries he might not be able to tell the difference from a real one.

T'vik and Lepp ready themselves and head toward the Customs Office. By the time they reach the building, the sun has set but the sky still glows with its recent fire. T'vik notices the guards at the Customs Office do not seem to be the same crew, but he can't speak for the archers on the roof. He'll need to be extra careful tonight, since it was only last night that he made his last unsuccessful attempt.

The two halberdsmen at the door stand on either side of it. It would be impossible to enter the front door without them noticing. Even if they were distracted by something, the archers on the roof would notice anyone approaching the door. T'vik wonders if he'll have to take a different approach, and remembers that there is an inner courtyard accessible from the roof.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik leaves Lepp in front of the building, hidden, but with a good view of the front door. He waits for darkness before positioning himself on a building next to the office. Dropping down into the alley between the two he waits, making sure he's hidden before making his next move. Sticking to the shadows, hoping his training has paid off. When he knew he was unseen he slowly, quietly scaled the wall of the customs office. Once on the roof he stopped again, staying perfectly still, melting into the shadows so he wouldn't be seen by the archers on the roof. When he sees his chance he takes it and peers down into the courtyard, looking around for hiding spots. As quietly as he could making sure he wasn't seen he drops down and hides. Once in the courtyard he takes stock of his surroundings, sticking to the shadows as best he could.

[Dragodar]

(Shadowmelding) 27

T'vik makes his way onto the building and across the roof to the courtyard in the center. He peers down and sees two small picnic tables in the courtyard. Apparently the employees of the Customs Office sometimes eat their lunch outside. There are two doors from the courtyard into the building, if only he can get down there.

One of the archers turns around as though he noticed something. "What's that?" he says suspiciously. T'vik freezes in place and thanks the gods he decided to stick to the darkest shadows. The archer peers directly at T'vik's location, then turns around and resumes his post. "Must have been the wind," he mutters.

1/3 for the day

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik holds his breath, making absolutely sure that he wasn't suspected. After a few seconds he drops down into the courtyard and blends into the shadows. Looking around through the windows into the office, looking for anyon he should avoid and also seeing if he could locate the manifest from the outside before used the keys to get in the building.

[Dragodar]

The interior of the building is dark and empty. Most of the employees have gone home for the night. If there's anyone in the building, it's probably just the Customs Officer and a single guard. T'vik cannot see anything but books and scrolls through the window. He has no way of knowing where the manifest is or what it looks like.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik unlocks the door and enters slowly and quietly. Adjusting his eyes to the low light he stays quiet, ever in the shadows, looking quietly through books until he find the manifest. Looking through it to find any sign of the Nomad, its crew, or cargo and commit that information to memory

[Dragodar]

[roll0][roll1][roll2]

T'vik silently slips into the building, noiselessly closing the door behind him. He glides through rows of books and scrolls, systematically moving up and down the shelves in search of the manifest. Finally, despite the darkness, he finds it near the front of the building. He is only about ten feet from the front door, and through the windows on either side he can see the faint glow of the halberdsmen's lanterns. Unfortunately, the light is too low for him to be able to read the pages. The manifest is a large, dictionary sized book, and T'vik curses as he realizes that he forgot to bring a light source with him.

[Nightwing32193]

He moves quietly closer to the windows to use the lantern light as best he could. Making sure to stay below the window though so the guards don't see him he tries again to read the manifest.

[Dragodar]

T'vik carries the manifest to the window and manages to use the light from the lanterns outside to read the pages, though with some difficulty. The manifest is organized by date, with the earliest entries at the beginning of the book dating back to Maerin of this year. T'vik rifles through the pages until he's a little more than halfway through the tome. Finding Kusa, he begins reading meticulously.

According to Raemon, The Nomad docked two days before they spoke. That was on Tuesday, so T'vik turns to the page for Sunday, Kusa 22nd. Scanning the page, he soon finds what he is looking for.

Name:The Nomad
Type: Brigantine
Dock: 113A.
Cargo: grain, corn, lumber
Inventory Catalog Number: 21-1474
Crew: 26
Passengers: 0
Description:
Body: black
Sails: burgundy
Bowsprit: human holding pack over shoulder

So the Nomad was at Dock 113A. Now T'vik just needed an annotated map of the docks, and the game was on.

[Nightwing32193]

He looked around at the walls, seeing if there was a numbered map of the docks. He quietly rummaged through some of the other documents until he found what he was looking for.

[Dragodar]

After a couple minutes of quietly rummaging around, T'vik finds the dock map spread out neatly on a desk, underneath a pile of scrolls. T'vik moves the scrolls aside and studies the map.

http://i.imgur.com/aCt5jpM.jpghttp://i.imgur.com/iuz2sZm.jpg

As T'vik studies the map, he notices the light shift, and he freezes. The lanterns outside are moving. It seems a shift change is occurring.

[Nightwing32193]

He melts into the shadows inside the office as to not be seen by wandering eyes. Looking out the window into the courtyard to see if any of the guards had decided to convene there after their shift. Staying invisible, he quietly opened the door to the courtyard and listened to the guards as they relieved the previous crew. When he was sure that the guards had been completely switched out he moved back out into the courtyard. Sticking still to the shadows he looked up to see where the archers were located on the roof.

[Dragodar]

T'vik hears a door open somewhere else on the same floor, and realizes that the archers' relief must be arriving. Quickly hiding, he waits for them to ascend the stairs to the roof. After a few minutes, the first shift of archers descend the same stairs and T'vik hears them leave the building.

The lanterns outside the front door are once again stationary and the shift change appears to be complete. T'vik does not see any guards in the courtyard, so he quietly slips out the door, locking it behind him. From in the courtyard, he cannot see any of the archers on the roof, so he climbs up the wall and peers over the edge. The archers are all posted at the corners, keeping watch on the streets below.

From across the bay, small pinpricks of light reflect off the water as lanterns bob and sway on the bows of docked ships. The stars and the lamps twinkle on the smooth surface of the bay. It is a clear night and the moon shines brightly on Mantle.

It is about 11 PM on Friday, Kusa 27th.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik silently pulls himself onto the roof. Making sure to not make a sound he leaves the way he came. Once on the roof of the building next to the office he sits down and let's out a sigh of relief. The thought had crossed his mind that he should have just went with that plan in the first place. Oh well, what's a few more battle scars to an Assassin? He drops down in the alley on the opposite side of the building and removes his hood. Still sticking to the shadows as much as possible he goes to the collect Lepp and retire to the inn for the night.

[Dragodar]

[roll0][roll1]

T'vik once again slips easily past the archers and down the outside of the building. He slides through the shadow past the swordsmen and onto the street. He pulls back his hood and whistles for Lepp, and together the two return to the inn.

***

"So, what did you find?" the lad asks, once they're back in the room.

[Nightwing32193]

"Exactly what I was looking for. Found the Nomad and its location." He smiled.

The next morning he went to scout the location. He brought Lepp along. Staying a reasonable distance from the ship, he made mental notes of the crew and layout of the area around the ship itself. Crew members, were they armed? He did his best to commit their faces to memory. Who was the captain? How many were on the ship at once? How did they enter and exit the ship? He stayed out for almost an entire day gathering information for his side mission.
He decided that if he was going to convince Arianna to help him with non-Assassin work, he'd have to make one hell of a case complete with intel and some semblance of a plan.

[Dragodar]

The next morning, T'vik and Lepp make their way up the west side of the bay until they reach Dock 113. The north side of the dock is labeled A and the south side is labeled B. Right where it's supposed to be, a large black brig with dark red sails floats peacefully on the north side of the dock. The gangway is down and crew members are walking up and down, carrying burlap sacks full of grain and wooden crates with various other cargo back and forth from ship to pier and back.

The ship seems unremarkable and normal, and if T'vik didn't know better he wouldn't look twice at it. Clearly these slavers were very good at their trade. For several hours, T'vik watches the ship while Lepp explores the city. T'vik is unable to remember all the faces of the crew, as there are over two dozen members, but several do stick out.

***

One very short, stocky bald man, wearing a black sleeveless jerkin and loosely fitting black pantaloons, carries a long, nasty looking whip and seems to hold some position of authority. He is barefoot and unshaven, and does not have the air of captain, But T'vik suspects he may be the bo'sun or first mate.

T'vik also notices a very slender man of average height with long, unkempt light brown hair who seems to hang about on deck for most of the day, doing very little work but taking notes on a clipboard. A scar runs from above his right eye down the side of his face to his chin. He wears unremarkable, loosely fitting beige clothing, and is either a clerk or the second mate, most likely.

A third crew member who stands out is an enormous giant of a man, a towering, bald, shirtless man who spends most of the day carrying loads twice as large as his companions'. He doesn't seem to be anything more than a deckhand, but he is nearly seven feet tall and a lean three hundred pounds. He is a very intimidating sight, and T'vik make a mental note not to get too close to that one.

*********************************************

Around three in the afternoon, a man in clean looking clothing steps from the aft cabin and makes his way around the deck. T'vik pegs this one as captain due the shiny, black boots he is wearing and the general air of authority he projects. The short, bearded bald man with the whip follows him around the deck and they seem to be conversing about various aspects of the ship and crew. The bald man nods often as the captain points things out and makes observations.

The captain is a tall, but not extraordinarily tall, man. He has golden blonde hair that reaches to his shoulders and looks combed and clean. His beard matches his hair in cleanliness and color, and his clothing matches the sails of his ship; a deep burgundy vest over a long sleeved, beige undershirt. His pants are white and tucked into his boots, rather than ending just below the knee like most of the crew members'. He is a relatively handsome man, but his eyes are cold and hard, and his face is not friendly. An expensive looking scimitar hangs from his belt and glint of of reflected light reveals that he wears some kind of golden necklace or torc.

After making his rounds on the ship, the captain and the bald man leave the ship and head south down the pier.

It is just after 3 PM on Saturday, Kusa 28th.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik calls Lepp back to his side, "Keep an eye on the ship lad, stay out of sight. Watch out for any suspicious behavior while I'm gone yeah? And by no means come into contact with any of the crew members. Stay. Hidden. Got that?" T'vik follows the first mate and captain. Although it's light out he blends as best he can with the crowd, tailing them as only an Assassin would, making sure he's undetected and more importantly, unsuspected by the two men he's following.

[Dragodar]

Lepp nods and continues to watch The Nomad.

T'vik turns away and quickly takes off in the direction of the captain, careful not to lose sight of him in the busy crowd. The two men continue south down the pier as T'vik follows them at a distance. Soon, T'vik sees them enter a low door with a faded wooden sign hanging over it. Upon closer inspection, he is able to discern that the sign bears a crudely drawn iron pot with some sort of bubbling concoction inside it.

[Nightwing32193]

Tvik waits outside for them to come back out. Were they buying potions? Was this a meeting? He waited patiently for them to leave the shop before entering. Pretending to be a customer he looked around the shop. Carefully observing both the customers and the products being sold.

[Dragodar]

After about ten minutes, the two men exit the small door and head north up the pier. Waiting until they are out of sight, T'vik moves in and pulls open the door. Ducking slightly to enter the unusually low frame, he is at first entirely blind to the interior. It is very dimly lit inside and T'vik's eyes take a moment to adjust.

The first thing he notices is that the room he is in is filled with a spicy aroma that seems to change subtly as he moves. Warm musky smells shift to sickly sweet ones and crisp fresh scents morph into foul odors. T'vik is surrounded by glass cases on all sides, and inside them all are various flasks and vials of all different colors.

Once his eyes are adjusted to the darkness, T'vik notices a counter at the back of the room. A short man with bad posture and greasy black hair stands behind it and his dark eyes stare at T'vik, almost suspicious. There is no one else in the shop, and an awkward silence ensues for a moment when the man fails to issue any kind of greeting to T'vik.

[Nightwing32193]

He looks around, feigning interest for a bit before approaching the store owner. Sizing him up with a greeting, "Good day sir, I only just got here and I'm just exploring the town, what exactly is this place, it looks interesting enough, smells lovely as well." he did his best to convey a certain sense of inquisitiveness and even awe at the man's establishment. Keeping his eyes looking around at labels and ingredients that he might recognize.

[Dragodar]

The man squints at T'vik slightly, obviously somewhat suspicious. It is clear that he doesn't get visitors often or that he typically only sees customers who have made appointments. All the same, he seems to accept T'vik's bluff after a moment of consideration.

"Merely a humble elixir shop, lord. I sell all manner of medicines and alchemical concoctions," the man says in a nasal voice. "Most of them are nonmagical, but for the right price we have a small selection of magic potions as well. What brings you to Mantle, good sir?" he asks inquisitively. The shifty looking man rubs his hands together and looks at T'vik with curiosity.

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik continued to look around, ignoring the small man for a minute while he investigated the shop a little more, looking for any clues as to what the two men he was tailing may have purchased.
Finally he looked at the shop keeper and smiled, "I'm just looking around, what sort of things might a ship captain purchase here? Or anyone in general? I'm assuming you can craft anything from healing potions to damgerous poinsoms here yeah?"

[Dragodar]

The slightest frown of suspicion flits across the man's brow but he quickly brushes it away. "Um, well I suppose there are a number of brews a ship captain might find useful," the man says. "I have cafa, iodus, dormance, essence of nightshade, powdered alcohol, and a good amount of other elixirs. I also have a large selection of oils and topical ointments; such as knot oil, vaselyn, disinfectant ointment, and a number of others."

He pauses and looks T'vik up and down for a brief moment. "Which ship do you captain, sir? If you can give me specifics on what it is you need, I may be able to better help you sir."

[Nightwing32193]

T'vik smiled and quickly thinks back to the manifest, mind racing to think of another ship, simulator to the Nomad, but obviously not the Nomad, while he remained calm, looking through the viles and cans on the shelves, "Its a brigantine, not moored here, I'm actually on leave at the moment, taking a break from all that for a bit. I head back to the mainland in a few weeks." Still looking around for any sign of disturbance around the shop to give him a clue as to what the captain and first mate of the Nomad may have bought.