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There are tales of ghouls and the dead rising along the Eastern Allir Reaches. The Templar chapter based of Allria has gone to investigate the matter... and perhaps bring to an end to whoever is at the root of this evil...

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OOC:
A necromancer seems to be ravaging the Eastern Allir Reaches(near the spine). Some of the Templars are trying to stop him/her. Feel free to join in as a survivor, a passerby, maybe the necromancers servant!

Chronicles A night to remember (open)

Discussion in 'The Chronicles' started by Flint, Dec 3, 2018 at 9:54 PM.

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  1. Flint

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    Flint The Barber

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    A silvery light washed over his room, ever so slightly illuminating the barbershop Momentarily, the moon’s light caught Flint’s straight razor, and the man set the blade down on his table with a light clunk. The day had been long, and he’d spent hours cutting hair and sweeping it out of his working quarters. Normally, such work wouldn’t seem so tedious. He was making money, his reputation ensuring a steady stream of hairy customers. Today, however, hadn’t brought much talk.

    Maybe it was the weather, maybe it was the alignment of the stars. Flint had once heard of how these things could affect the mood. Today, most of his customers had barely mumbled a word or made a grunt. Sitting idly by as Flint glided a cutthroat blade across their heads, they boasted of no tales of heroism, recounted no abnormal experiences or once in a lifetime encounters. It was all average, all lifeless.

    Days like this drained Flint on a number of levels. As he looked at his reflection, the man was met by a face not as attractive as he had once thought it. His eyes were lined with a couple of bags each, his lips and brow contoured to a frown. Today had been far too normal for his liking.

    Fortunately, Flint was not a man to give up so easily. He’d always found something to be impressed with, each day, no matter how small. Today was no different. So the man adjusted his waistcoat and left his quarters into the cool night, ensuring he had a few coins in his pocket before locking up and heading for the tavern.

    What a night for the tavern it was. The glow of lanterns beckoned him onwards as he made his way towards the place of music laughter and alcohol. As he drew near the smell of hearth smoke invaded his nostrils, and a warmth hit him as soon as he entered through the old wooden door. The tavern itself was quite full, men dwarves and elves alike drinking in merriment, some singing along to the music that came from the back of the tavern. Flint made his way for the counter, ordering a beer and taking his place at one of the stools. As he lifted the drink to his lips, a light smile sparked to life upon him. He sat for a moment, ready to be impressed.

    Rainie
     
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  2. Rainie

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    Rainie The Noble Rogue

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    It seemed to be the peak of the night, that sweet spot where everyone had been drinking long enough to get just the right amount of drunk, and no one was yet falling off their feet. Lorraina Night was enjoying herself, as always, clapping along to the jaunty song the musicians were playing. They were tucked all the way in the back of the tavern, and Rainie, as Lorraina was called, had a glass of malt whiskey beside her.

    The musicians were playing a tune on a sitar, while someone else kept time on a tambourine, and everyone had been taking turns singing. Quite a few people were dancing every once in a while. No one was up singing now, though. Rainie smiled a slow smile as a hilarious ditty came to mind, and she quickly knocked back the rest of her liquor before skipping into the circle.

    After getting a feel for the time, she began to sing raucously.

    "I had a little jackass,
    that just refused to work!
    He wouldn't pull his weight,
    'cause he was such a lazy berk!
    He said it was beneath him,
    And he ran away to school
    To be an archanist
    This donkey was a fool!

    He's Jackass! Jackass!
    Runnin' through th' halls,
    Distractin' all the students
    'cause he's playin' with his books
    And ink and papers, papers,
    all around th' class,
    'Cause you can't be an arcanist
    when you're such a stupid ass!"


    Her song was received with jubilant shouts and laughter, and Rainie found she couldn't continue for she was laughing so hard herself. The musicians valiantly continued, someone new stepping in to sing. After catching her breath, she loped her way to the bar. She couldn't help but dance a little to the beat behind her.

    Returning her glass, she breathlessly asked for another malt whiskey. The barkeep, who knew her fairly well, just smiled and shook his head. Smiling widely, she turned and leaned against the bar with a sigh, winded from singing and dancing.
     
  3. Flint

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    Flint was glad to see a little variety in the tavern’s music. Some of the band members were playing instruments he wasn’t too familiar with. These instruments were a whole lot more lively than the harp or lyre, and it took a good effort to keep the barber from getting up and dancing himself. Flint knew he was better with his hands than on his feet though. Taking a swig from his beer, Flint closed his eyes and allowed the array of sound to wash over him, the novelty of it all taking his mind off the monotony of his day.

    A further escalation in the atmosphere was brought upon by a young red-haired girl who took to the centre of the band, beginning to sing with a voice that boasted certain past experience of a bard. The musicians seemed happy to allow the woman to join in their playing, the crowd too jeering along. As she began to sing, Flint couldn’t help but laugh at the girl’s lyrics, almost spitting some of the beer that was just sliding down his throat. He hadn’t heard the song before, but the woman sang it so vigorously that he still wanted to try and sing along.

    By the time she finished, the crowd seemed almost disappointed that there would be no encore. A smirk rested on Flint’s lips as the girl made her way to the bar, ordering another drink. He hadn’t seen her face before, which was unusual for this tavern. He lived so close by he’d have thought he knew everyone in here. Flint began to wonder who she was, and how she’d wound up here on such a night. As the tavernkeep fetched her drink, Flint tossed some currency across the counter.

    “Next drink's on me if you can tell me the story behind that song”.


    Rainie
     
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  4. Rainie

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    Rainie The Noble Rogue

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    She glanced up at the clatter of a coin and spotted an unassuming yet handsome man smirking at her. “Next drink's on me if you can tell me the story behind that song," he challenged good-naturedly.

    She tilted her head back and laughed before returning the smile and shrugged as if to say, well, I guess I have no choice! As if she didn't thrive off telling stories. Taking her whiskey with a thankful nod, she turned to face the man and took a deep breath before beginning.

    "Unfortunately, I can't claim it as my own. I had stopped in a small village along the north western shore of the Eretejva Tundra, called Vesterfjord. The people there are hardy seafarers, though they don't sail much anymore. That'd be 'cause of the dragons..." She trailed off, then recollected her train of thought. "Right, so! I was staying at an inn there, and they had some local musicians who would stop in every once in a while, especially if they had visitors. So few people come to an ice laden tundra, I suppose, so I was a bit of a novelty.

    "But I met this woman, who had one son who was nearly full grown, who wouldn't do a thing! His parents are out there struggling to grow a few crops in this frozen soil and otherwise put food on the table, and he's constantly shut inside his room with his books. I remember her name, t'was Annalisse. I cannae think of the son as named anything but jackass." She burst into sudden laughter. Several patrons seated near them had turned their heads to listen.

    "So after raising this son to manhood, he went and left his parents to fend for themselves to travel to Elbion to enroll in the college there, for magical study, you know?" She started giggling. "And he flunked out! Just one semester in! Came crawling back and the first thing his mother did was write a song. She played it for the whole town. It was the most hilarious song I've ever heard, and I just had to learn it."

    After having another laugh, she extended a pale, callused hand. "I'm Rainie by the way!"
     
  5. Flint

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    Having had his offer accepted, Flint’s smirk broadened to a toothy grin. Knocking back the rest of his drink, the barber ordered another beer along with the woman’s whiskey. Flint immediately connected with the story. His business had never brought him to such a desolate place as the Eretjva Tundra, but some of his clients had claimed they’d travelled to that neck of Epressa in the past. Tales of ancient dragons and frost trolls added to the tundra’s legend, and Flint wouldn’t dream of travelling there without half an army at his back.

    And yet, the woman’s tale spoke of civilization. A small village sure, but people lived in the tundra. Somehow, amidst the danger and desolation, people were surviving. Flint wondered what they ate, their traditions and customs. Most importantly, he wondered how they hid from dragons.

    This girl was starting to intrigue him. Just how far had she travelled? She looked quite young, and yet she spoke as if she’d trekked far and wide. Flint could only begin to imagine the stories she had, and in a way he envied her. He’d yet to gain the courage to travel like that, after all. He listened to the woman’s tale, laughing along at the boy’s foolishness. It was a heartwarming story, and said something about how humans valued family. Flint could have seen himself in the boy’s shoes, had he had a similar upbringing.

    Once their laughter subsided, Flint took the first sip of his new drink, taking the girls handshake amicably. Like his own, the girl now known as Rainie had hands worn from work, but were somewhat warmer than his own. “Flint”, he replied, though the humorous side of him had wanted to announce himself as ‘Sunnie’.

    “I’m sure you’ve collected quite the number of songs and shanties on your travels. May I ask how you wound up in Elbion”. He hoped the question was not too probing. Rainie had peaked his interest, and was eager to know what other stories they could share.
     
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  6. Rainie

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    Rainie sipped her drink through a smile. "Lovely to meet you, Flint," she grinned. "And it's quite easy to wind up in Elbion. This is, oh... my fourth or fifth visit? I have some special interests that require a lot of travel, and a lot of time around mages and alchemists." Her smile turned slightly bitter.

    She tossed her hair over one shoulder. "I don't stay for very long, though. Mainly passing through, if I can't find what I'm looking for." She sent a wink the bartender's way, who raised an exasperated eyebrow, already used to her ridiculous antics despite her infrequent visits. Rainie was, unfortunately, very recognizable for a spy and a thief.

    "As for songs," she chuckled. "That's more of a personal thing. I've always loved music and stories, and combining the two is just more practical!" Giggling to herself, she took another sip of her strong drink. The world was tilting pleasantly and all her worries had slipped away several minutes ago. Her past, her family, her troubles, they were all far away. There was only this moment, this tavern, this drink, these people. It was calming and exciting all at once.

    With a happy sigh, she threw her head back and looked sideways at Flint. "I could tell you a story if you like," she offered. "We can go sit down over there. The musicians have taken a break; they won't play again for a while."
     
  7. Flint

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    She wasn’t wrong. Thousands of people made their way in and out of Elbion daily. While he was able to mark Rainie as a stranger to his local tavern, he couldn’t say that was in any way abnormal. Sure there were the regulars; men and women he saw here most nights he visited. Most of the drinkers, however, came from far and wide, each with their own story and business. It was part of the reason Flint liked the tavern so much.

    The man at behind the bar didn’t seem so taken on Rainie’s charisma. Perhaps he was sick of people enjoying themselves while they worked. Flint couldn’t blame him. He’d hate to be cutting hair right now. As Rainie offered to tell him a story away from the bar, Flint couldn’t help but feel some sort of relief wash over him. He’d been working his ass off lately, and to sit down with some drinks and good company was well needed. “Can’t object to that”.

    Of course, Flint always had time for someone who valued stories. Day in and out the man walked the streets of Elbion, listening to the people. So many of them talked of trivial things; performing well at work, arguing over meagre things. Small talk, with little purpose. Flint was a deep thinker, and he liked to make the most out of each moment, if he could. That meant talking when he had something worthwhile to say, and listening when something was worthwhile hearing. Sitting at the bench, Flint eased back into a comfortable position.

    “Okay Rainie of, er… somewhere. Tell me a story”, he gleamed, scratching the back of his head. “No pressure, I’ve already been impressed, after all.”
     
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  8. Rainie

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    Rainie cackled delightedly. "Alliria! I'm from Alliria!" Snickering to herself, she said hello to a few musicians who greeted her, as well as some of her listeners from earlier. She waved a couple of people off as she took a seat at a table, before waving for them to take a seat too. She settled herself on her bench from earlier, and smiled at Flint.

    "Alright, alright!" she giggled, pushing a too-friendly admirer away. Taking a fortifying drink, she tried to bring the mood to the proper place, simpering and meeting the eyes that had fixed on her. “Gather ‘round,” she purred. “I’ve a story to tell. As a Bard, I’ve spent much time in elite and even royal courts; simply entertaining, you see, nothing untoward. About a year ago, I was in the employ of a baroness of old money, with strong moral values and a lot of assets that relied on royal pension. I had integrated myself with the new crown Prince, Hans Nykolas the… second? Yes, well, I was one of his advisers, believe it or not. I acted as his Bard and pretended to be his spy, when really I was spying on him.

    “Now, to be honest, I never thought I was the only spy on the Prince’s council. Everyone was naturally wary of me, as I was the youngest in the council and everyone likely thought I was a thief or a courtesan. (Not that they would have been wrong, I may as well be both. Never mind that.) The Prince was not very popular, and a lot of houses and factions would benefit well from his eventual downfall, or his continued help.

    “One evening, I received a rather curt invitation to dinner the next day. I was suspicious, and decided to stake out the castle entrances that night to see if the Prince had any visitors. And, lo and behold, he certainly did.

    “A cloaked man smelling strongly of nightshade and something sickly sweet entered the castle through a discreet servant’s entrance near midnight. I recognized him instantly. He was a well known alchemist, specializing in poisons, who lived over in the next kingdom. He came and left after a time, smelling of nothing afterwards.

    “I showed up to the dinner as if all was normal, and you could cut the tension in the room with a knife. At least ten advisers were there; the Prince’s entire council. Old men, young men, old women, and, well, me. Nearly every one of us appeared apprehensive, either because they were also spies who knew of what I had seen the night before, or were responding to the tension in the room.

    “The Prince sat us down and was in a very good mood, and we all relaxed despite ourselves. The feast looked and smelled amazing, heady with aromas of all the sauces and spices. Not that I swallowed a single bite or sip. There would be no way to know what was poisoned with all the smells. I was careful to make the food disappear all the same, and there was so much of it. Once it was all cleared away, a large dish of spicy broth was brought in, and the servants left, closing all the doors.”

    Rainie smiled, leaning forward. “I looked to the Prince and said, ‘I couldn’t possibly, my Prince. However could I retain my figure?’ Several counselors begged off in a similar fashion, saying they were too stuffed to eat any more. And the Prince just smiled.”

    She paused, meeting eyes around the room. “He then told us of the alchemist, and his poisons. Incurable, unstoppable, fatal poisons. And of an antidote, which he claimed was in the tureen of soup, there on the table.

    “Duke Wessington, to my left, asks, ‘Your Majesty… are you implying you have poisoned someone at this table?’

    “The Prince tells him, ‘Yes, I have. I have poisoned any person, sitting here at this table, who serves more than one master. Anyone with loyalties to another kingdom, faction, or individual. Anyone who is not solely loyal to me.’

    She waved a jaunty hand. “There I am, thinking I’m safe. I haven’t eaten a thing. But he goes on to say, ‘Now, you may be thinking that the food is what was poisoned. I regret to tell you that it was not, and you missed out on a fantastic roast. No, what was poisoned was the cutlery and goblets that touched your lips!’”

    She leaned forward again, arms wrapped tightly around her own stomach, speaking quickly in a low voice now. “My heart starts racing in my chest. Did he suspect me? It was quite possible. My stomach was cramping up. With nerves? Or poison? Prince Hans was a ruthless fellow, you know. And constantly paranoid. Say I wasn’t a spy, and was wholly loyal to him. Would he suspect an innocent person, believing them to be a spy? I think he would.

    “‘The poison acts quickly,’ announced the Prince. ‘Anyone who has been poisoned will die within one minute, here at this table.’

    “And then I wondered, if I drank the broth, thereby admitting guilt, would he take mercy upon me afterwards? Could I even believe him at all? I was beginning to sweat, and I turned to look around the room at the other counselors’ faces so the Prince wouldn’t see.”

    Her voice increased in volume and urgency. “I looked just in time to see one Viscount Churley leap to his feet, snatch up the ladle, and swallow a mouthful of the spicy broth. The whole table seemed to be frozen. The room was suddenly full of guards, as well. The Prince smiled and wondered aloud what faction the Viscount belonged to who could wish him ill.

    “‘Your father’s first wife’s relations!’ the Viscount gasped, pale faced and shaking. ‘You honestly thought I was in league with ASSASSINS?’

    “‘No, I did not know who you were aligned with,’ said the Prince smugly. ‘I did not even know if you were in fact a spy.”

    Rainie lowered her voice suddenly, still speaking for the Prince. “‘And I regret to say, I did not poison you. You did that yourself, just now when you drank from the tureen.’

    “I won’t tell you how blood seemed to pour from every orifice of the Viscount’s face, or of how he screamed, let alone the other noises he made as he slowly and painfully died. The council was dismissed thereafter, and I have never fled a castle faster, let me tell you.”
     
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  9. Flint

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    #9 Flint, Dec 4, 2018 at 7:59 PM
    Last edited: Dec 5, 2018 at 5:33 AM
    As the crowd gathered round the table, Flint almost felt disappointed. Initially thinking he would hear an exclusive story, Flint was afraid Rainie would be careful with what she let slip, After all, anyone could have been listening. This disappointment proved needless, as Rainie told an uncensored tale that left Flint’s jaw dropped. Revealing herself as a spy to the tavern was a dangerous move, but Flint admired the girl for taking such a risk

    He was captured by the intricate tale of Rainie’s time as a spy. Of the brilliant Prince, and his plot to weed out traitors. Flint couldn’t imagine living around so many people he didn’t trust. He was shocked by Rainie’s evasion of detection, almost to the point that he didn’t even believe the story could be true. The crowd fell silent as the plot thickened, rousing back to a more sober cheering by the end. As the cheers died down, Flint decided he’d share his own story. He just hoped the other drunkards would be willing to listen.

    “Alright, I’ve got one for you”, he began, and now eyes fell on him. “Actually heard it from a thief whose hair I cut, part of his plan to obscure his identity.” Leaning forward in his chair, he lowered his voice a little, as if he were telling a secret. Making the tale sound as dangerous as possible was a good way of reeling in his crowd


    “He was sweet on some Lord’s daughter in Alliria, and she loved him back. How a noble and thief became intimate is a mystery to me. But they did. They fell in love, madly so, as some would say. Of course the old Lord, well, he didn’t like this.

    ‘That old fart knew I was scum’, the thief told me. ‘Once he learned of Lyra’s feelings towards me, he had every last one of his men out for me ‘ead’

    “The thief and lady knew their love was hopeless. But, one night, the thief woke in his quarters to find the lady at his door, proclaiming her love once again, along with her desire to leave Alliria with him, so they could be together”


    Flint’s voice faltered for a second, and the fondness in his voice faded as he recalled what came next.


    “Great and vast as Alliria is, the couple didn’t make it far before the guards caught up to them. Desperately they fled through alleys, darting up ladders and leaping across rooftops in the hopes of escape. The guards became tired of this futile effort of escape, and began raining arrows upon the pair with the hopes of killing the thief… But it was the lady that was caught in the crossfire. An arrow pierced her shoulder, tearing her hand from the thief’s grasp, casting her from the top of a bakery to the cold hard Allirian floor.”

    Flint took a slug of his drink, silence dominating the tavern.

    “The thief kept running, driven by grief. Somehow, the crazy bastard escaped. He wandered for a while, a moping mess. And after a time he found himself all the way in Elbion, in my shop. To be honest… I’m not quite sure what became of him”.

    An anti-climactic end to a tragic tale, as it was always told. But Flint’s last words were a lie. He knew what became of the thief. That day guards had tracked him to Flint’s shop, but telling of Flint’s reaction wouldn’t be good for business. After all, who would want a blade run across their head by a man who would defend a criminal. Flint just hoped the crowd bought this version of the story

    “Dreary tale, I know”, he said, a weak smile pointed at Rainie. “But I’m afraid today has been a bit dreary for me”,
     
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  10. Rainie

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    Rainie was delighted and surprised when her story was met with another. Grinning and wide eyed, she listened to Flint's retold tragedy with all the attention she was able to give him. She was still buzzing with happiness, sighing relieved with every breath, floating on the lightness liquor gave her. But she listened, and retained, and thought very, very hard about his story. Alliria was where she was from. She'd been a part of the Thieves Guild there for a while.

    Lyra? She knew that name. Why did she know that name? Was it her imagination?

    “Dreary tale, I know," said Flint with a weak smile. “But I’m afraid today has been a bit dreary for me."

    Rainie started a round of applause that was politely echoed, as everyone surrounding them had truly been engrossed in their macabre tales in turn. Smiling, she reached over and tapped Flint on the shoulder. "I'll get us another round! What would you like?"

    Covertly, she checked outside the window, measuring the slant of the moonlight. It wasn't quite late enough in the evening for her to set out, but time was of the essence. She would need to bother the bar keep for a few moments to confirm where she was going, but she could spare a few more minutes here, reveling in good company.
     
  11. Flint

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    Flint was glad the crowd appreciated the story. He reckoned the thief would have welcomed the sympathy. As the crowd dispersed once more, Flint smiled in response to the spy’s offer. “Another beer would be nice”.

    The barber wasn’t feeling too tipsy quite yet, and he reckoned another drink would do no harm. As the music started up again, Flint tapped his foot to the beat, easing back into the bench once more. He wondered what tomorrow would bring. Sir Horace was due his bi-monthly shave, no doubt the knight would be by. Other than that, he wasn’t so sure. Most of his regulars had been by recently.

    At least that left his options open. If the day was slow, perhaps he’d close shop early, or take a longer break. He’d been meaning to hit the markets for some more provisions, and he hadn’t seen many of his trader friends all week. Flint thought of visiting his family, but dismissed the thought as Rainie returned. There was no time for that now.

    “Ah, a fresh drink. Thank you, friend”.
     
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  12. Lectrix

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    Lectrix The Ghost of Reckoning

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    Lectrix stood at the corner of the tavern, watching the crowd dissipate around the woman. The story was quite intriguing, and entertained him quite a bit. He never really frequented taverns all that much, but tonight he thought he could have some fun, or find some work if anything. He knew that contractors frequented taverns, and his garbs detailed him to be an assassin.

    He decided slowly meander towards the bar, as most of the time that where he met the people he would eventually work with. Or maybe, he would finally take Charlotte's advice and meet some people outside of his circle. They would always tease him for that.

    He took a seat next to a man who was speaking to the woman, and ordered a water. Just another thing about him that was influenced by Charlotte, his hesitancy to drink.
     
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  13. Rainie

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    #13 Rainie, Dec 6, 2018 at 12:04 PM
    Last edited: Dec 6, 2018 at 1:24 PM
    Rainie weaved back over to Flint, swaying her hips in time with the music that had started up again. Smiling, she declared, "Your drink, Sir Storyteller," and passed him the bottle with an exaggerated bow.

    She was sipping her whiskey and wondering if she could convince Flint to dance with her, when her strange purplish eyes flicked over to a man who had certainly not been sitting there before. A young man, no older than herself, with a scar on the right side of his face now sat beside Flint, sipping a water. His clothes, however, were a faction uniform of sort. Rainie was sure she recognized them - Oh, dear.

    She smiled and shook her head. Just another evening.

    "Care to dance with me?" she asked, offering her arm to the barber. She was quite fond of dancing with a partner, and if she were lucky, others would join in.

    Lectrix
     
  14. Flint

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    It was a strange thing, seeing Rainie sway back towards the table, moving in tune to the music and dramatically bowing in his direction. Being a regular here meant seeing an old city tavern for what it was – a place of drunken revelry; of late-night brawls and the odd shanking. Newcomers like Rainie didn’t see it that way. She gave the air of someone who was enjoying every second of being in the tavern, like it was some mead hall of the gods.

    Not that this place was all bad. He wasn’t just a regular because the tavern was a few doors down from his place. No, this place always boasted of good drinks, better music, and some of the best company Elbion had on offer. That much was clear tonight. A man in unusual threads took the empty place by Flint’s side, and rested a tankard of water on the table. The barber wondered if the strange scarred man had come along to share his own tale.

    Flint didn’t wait to find out, as Rainie invited him to dance, extending an arm.
    "Ah, how could I refuse?"
    Were he sober, the barber may have declined. He was, after all, known for his two left feet. The two (heading for three) beers in him silenced his worries, as the barber drew himself to a stance, emptying the beer bottle into his tankard, which he took in his free hand. As they withdrew from the table, a number of other tenants followed suit, and the barber grinned at the sitar player.

    “Your next drink, if you play something faster”.

    Ah Flint he thought. You’ll be cutting your way out of debt in the morning
     
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  15. Rainie

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    #15 Rainie, Dec 6, 2018 at 1:17 PM
    Last edited: Dec 6, 2018 at 1:24 PM
    Rainie crowed in delight when the tempo picked up, and she gulped down the rest of her whiskey, probably unwisely. She clapped and stomped her feet for a moment, then snatched up Flint's hand to press hers against it, and drew him to walk in a graceful circle opposite her. Then switched sides and repeated. Laughing at his expression, she pulled his arm over her head to spin herself in a circle.

    It felt like magic when several others joined in, following her lead and copying her steps. A different pair stepped into the middle, and did a series of steps to the music. Laughingly, they all copied it. And so it went on. Rainie danced until her feet went numb, then laughed and kept dancing. She ended up with quite a few different dance partners by accident, and would let them lead her around for a few steps before twirling away.

    Flint was, objectively, a rubbish dancer. He was clumsy and out of beat most of the time. But he looked like he was having a grand time, and so was Rainie. The liquor was making her warm, giggly, and quite friendly. She happened to glance toward the window, noting the time, and was struck by a brilliant idea.

    Without warning, she snatched Flint's elbow and pulled him from the fray, and the dancing continued on without them. Smiling like mad, she pulled the poor barber to a quieter corner so she could say in his ear, "I've go'ta go, got sumthin ta do." She grinned and asked sweetly, "Wanna come and keep watch fer me?"

    Lectrix
     
  16. Lectrix

    Member
    Lectrix The Ghost of Reckoning

    Joined:
    Nov 11, 2018
    Messages:
    46
    Character Biography:
    Bio
    Lectrix couldn't help but smile at the two people that once sat next to them. They were now on the dance floor, with the man struggling to keep up with the dashing pace of the woman. He sat with his arm resting on the bar, looking out to the two. They were clearly having a good time, and it made a smile just peek out for a moment on his face. He was glad there was still joy like this in the world they lived in. They were both drunk out of their minds, but it just made them happy, much different than what Lectrix had experienced in his time living in Alliria.

    Suddenly, she pulled the man aside and whispered something into his ear. Lectrix couldn't hear what she had said as he was out of earshot, but fortunately, he could read lips. Something about he needing to go do something, and asking the man to keep watch. It struck Lectrix as suspicious, but he figured it was just the alcohol talking.
     
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  17. Flint

    Member
    Flint The Barber

    Joined:
    Monday
    Messages:
    17
    Rainie was a lot stronger than Flint had anticipated, which suited him well. An inexperienced dancer, he’d have been left dumbstruck had he to lead. Luckily for the barber, Rainie was able to guide him along. The barber couldn’t help but laugh as they moved, Rainie occasionally darting between partners, at one point leaving Flint open for one of the fat old drunkards to fall to him. The old bald man gripped the barber’s shoulders momentarily, letting out a drunken slur as Flint lightly pushed the man back towards the bar before moving towards Rainie again.

    Once he’d returned, the girl pulled him aside, telling him of a plan she had. While she spoke, Flint swore he noticed the strangely dressed man from earlier looking their way, though the barber quickly glanced away. He was much more interested in Rainie’s task. It was probably something dangerous, he thought. Why else would she need someone to keep watch. Regardless, Flint wasn’t sober enough for uncertainty or fear to kick in, so he allowed the girl to guide him out of the tavern.

    Emerging into the cool evening air did something to clear Flint’s head up, just fractionally. He looked across the cobbled street to his shop, and thought of heading in for some form of a weapon, just in case. Deciding against it, he smiled at his new friend. “Hear of anyone needing a hair choppin, you send ‘em over there!” he exclaimed, taking a moment to lean against the tavern’s oak wall, hands digging into his breech pockets.

    “So, Rainie. What’s this about something you need doing?”

    Rainie Lectrix
     
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  18. Rainie

    Member
    Rainie The Noble Rogue

    Joined:
    Nov 30, 2018
    Messages:
    46
    Character Biography:
    Bio
    Flint followed without complaint, and on her way out the door she stopped at the bar. Waving at the barkeep, she reached behind the bar and retrieved her bag and bow and quiver, which she had been allowed to stash there when she came in hours ago. "Have a good night, Delvin!" she called to the barman, and left a stack of coins on the counter for him.

    Arm in arm with Flint, Rainie breathed in the chilly night air thankfully. Her head cleared a bit, but she was still thrumming with happiness and excitement from the drink. They paused a moment to breathe, Flint leaning against the wall. She followed his gaze across the street, and spotted what must be his barber shop. He confirmed it for her by exuberantly advising her to send over anyone needing a hair choppin. Rainie fell into a fit of mad giggles.

    Flint asked what is was that she needed to do. She took a deep breath and stretched her arms high over her head, stretching her back as well. The muscles of her arms were rather sharply defined. Smiling, she let her arms swing back to her sides.

    "Well," she began in a murmur, leaning upon the wall beside him. "I need to snag a few things from a house. But don't worry about that. I just need you to stand outside and signal if anyone tries to come inside." She smiled recklessly, staring right into his eyes with a dare sparkling inside her own. "After that, we can have a drink by the docks, if you like! T'would make a good story," she finished with a wink.

    Flint Lectrix
     
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  19. Lectrix

    Member
    Lectrix The Ghost of Reckoning

    Joined:
    Nov 11, 2018
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    46
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    Bio
    Lectrix spun back around to face the bar as soon as the two left the tavern. But, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the woman pick up a bag and a bow and quiver. A slight hint of alarm came into his mind. The man didn't seem too capable of protecting himself, especially in his state, but that woman, maybe she was capable of more than what he thought. He decided to wait till she closed the door, and he slowly got out of his chair and meandered towards the window.

    He took a seat on a chair in the vicinity and looked outwards, where he could see the woman breaking away from the man towards a house, one he could not decipher was hers or not.
     
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  20. Flint

    Member
    Flint The Barber

    Joined:
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    Messages:
    17
    Flint nodded in appreciation as Rainie emerged from the bar with a bow. He could always respect a fellow archer. Flint always liked the idea of ranged weaponry. It allowed for the takedown of an enemy before things had a chance to get gritty. More importantly, with good aim came the ability to deliver non-lethal blows to enemies. Flint reckoned if he ever had to defend his life, he’d like to have such a weapon to rely on.

    Flint also couldn’t help admire Rainie’s physique. She had the arms of someone who had had plenty of practice with a bow. He was sure the girl had seen her share of fights as a spy, and that she could handle herself if they ran into trouble. “You keep in shape”, he mentioned, following her down the street.

    He decided he didn’t need to worry about getting caught. Rainie only wanted him to keep watch. It wasn’t like she wanted him to actually rob anything. “I mean sure, I’ll help… once you don’t go robbing my house”. He kept pace with the spy, the idea of another drink, and the excitement that came with danger urging him forward.

    “You know, I don’t normally spend my evening’s scoping out houses with women. But then, not many women buy me so many drinks!”

    Rainie Lectrix
     
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  21. Lectrix

    Member
    Lectrix The Ghost of Reckoning

    Joined:
    Nov 11, 2018
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    Suddenly, once he witnessed what the man was doing, he remembered the contents of their conversation. He was keeping watch, because she's stealing. She's a rogue.

    Rogues. Lectrix always had a distaste for them. They wasted their abilities on stealing from those who were just as unfortunate as they were. At least from his experience. He didn't know what was going on, but he didn't care too much for someone who took from the less fortunate, but then again, Lectrix chuckled at the hypocrisy of his statements. A word of justice coming from a criminal. The difference was, he took from the rich, the bad, and the tyrants. He gave them what they deserve, and earned his name.

    This was way different.

    Lectrix was lost in thought, so much so that he didn't notice that his hand was slowly loading a bolt into his bracer crossbow, clicking the small arrow in place and reeling back the string. Was he really going to stop her? A fellow thief? Thief's honor played a part here, so he didn't know.
     
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  22. Bronmaen Greatbelt

    Member

    Joined:
    Oct 17, 2018
    Messages:
    9
    Location:
    Alliria
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    Bio
    A dwarf led a pony pulled cart down the dark cobbled streets in the direction of the tavern they had come from. A hooded lantern hung on a post within the dwarf's grasp. The dim light caught then glinted off a golden hoop hanging from his ear. He raised a bushy eyebrow as the cart passed by Flint and his eyes lingered on him suspicion clear in the look but the driver did not linger. The cart moved on and the dwarf didn't speak a word. The slow, ponderous clip-pity-clop of the pony would eventually fade back into the night.
     
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  23. Rainie

    Member
    Rainie The Noble Rogue

    Joined:
    Nov 30, 2018
    Messages:
    46
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    Bio
    "You're fun!" Rainie laughed delightedly, looping her arm through Flint's. To any passerby, they'd look like a couple of people who'd just come from a bar, and were strolling home together. She smiled hazily at a cart that clattered past (so late in the eve?) even though her mind was quite clear now. She made sure to appear loose and drunk, clumsily crossing her steps or slipping on a cobble from time to time.

    The redheaded thief led her accommodating new friend down an alley. She had marked a handsome house, flowers dripping all over the balcony, and an iron fence with heavy padlocks enclosing the entire property. Normally she didn't care much about the places she marked, because she rarely took much more than she needed to survive. Handful of coins, a warmer jacket, maybe a bit of food, that sort of thing.

    This house, however, was one of special interest to her... and her employer. Smiling, she found a decent spot for Flint and situated him there. Looking up and down the street, she found it deserted, and pitch black. The lights in all the neighboring windows were out. She situated herself in a shadowy spot that would be difficult to see from the street.

    "Alright, I'll be in and out. Just keep an eye on the front door for me, I'll worry about the back," she instructed as she untied the laces to her skirt and slipped out of it, now just in her sturdy leggings. A dagger was strapped to her right thigh. "Just signal me somehow if someone comes. Make an animal sound if you can, or whistle, or just bang hard on the wall. Act like you tripped." As she said this, she tied her long hair in a knot at the top of her head, then pinned it there sloppily. Opening her bag, she stuffed her skirt inside and pulled out a tight, knitted black hood. She pulled it over her head, covering everything except her eyes.

    Getting everything she needed situated, she gave Flint a wink. "Good luck!" she whispered. And then she was gone.

    Rainie had scoped out her plan of attack days ago, now she just needed to implement it. Using the broken stones of the wall beside the fence, she hoisted herself up, up, up, until she stood atop the tall fence, one foot on either side of a wrought iron spike, which lined the top of the fence all the way around. Making sure the coast was clear, she dropped down into the backyard. Her shoes, which were specially enchanted, made no noise on the ground.

    She took another brief moment to check that the house was empty, which she knew it would be until next week, she crouched down at the back door. Her lock pick clicked as she inserted it into the lock, and she carefully felt for the pins. Once she was sure she had it, she turned the lock with another tool, and she was in.

    She didn't waste time now that she was in. Her first target was downstairs. She found the cellar hatch in the kitchen, covered with a bucket. Quietly, she placed it aside and pulled open the hatch. Down the ladder, a strange green glow could be seen. She struck a match and lit a nearby candle, illuminating the room. Herbs hung from the ceiling beams, and the walls were all lined with shelves. The green glow came from an eerie enchanted skull, which sat in the middle of a table painted with some kind of magic circle.

    Yes, these well-to-do merchants practiced magic in secret. Why in secret? Well, because their preferred brand of magic required death, blood, sacrifices. Not the best stuff to get up to, and this was coming from a pickpocket.

    This part took a little bit of time. Rainie had to hold the candle up to the shelves and scan the contents for the exact thing she was looking for. Hissing with annoyance, she cursed these Necromancers for their deplorable library system. If there even was a system.

    It took a while of shuffling through dusty alchemy ingredients and ritual tools to find it: an unassuming volume bound in leather. Rainie examined the cover and flipped through the aged pages, checking that everything was in order. A compound of research regarding the binding of souls to objects and corpses, focusing particularly on preservation of soul binds and, well...

    She stashed that and perused the room for anything else interesting. She snagged a tome of powerful healing techniques and tucked it in her bag, too. She spotted a rack of bottles tucked away in the counter, and she picked up two with glee. She then blew out and replaced her candle, plunging the cellar into a dim green glow once more. She climbed back up, replaced the bucket, and swept her gaze for anything else she could use. She snagged an apple of the kitchen counter and shrugged when she saw a purse of gold sitting on the table by the door.

    Might as well.

    Flint Lectrix Bronmaen Greatbelt
     
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  24. Lectrix

    Member
    Lectrix The Ghost of Reckoning

    Joined:
    Nov 11, 2018
    Messages:
    46
    Character Biography:
    Bio
    Curiosity overcame him, leading him the roof where he now stood, his spyglass trained on the woman through an open window. She disappeared into the cellar of the house where she had broken into for a while, and emerged with something that he couldn't quite make out. He saw her scan the room she was in one final time, grabbing two other things, and preparing to leave.

    He put his spyglass down, and pondered a while. He didn't know whether he wanted to get involved with what he had just seen. However, it was tempting to investigate further. He eyed the route which the woman had taken to her destination. He spotted the man he had seen her with at the bar, supposedly keeping watch for officers, he assumed.

    Lectrix chuckled quietly at the thought. The man was drunk, swaying wildly, appearing to be almost unconscious. Easy to get by. He removed his grapple from his belt and shot it through the side of the roof. He pulled on it, making sure it was secured, and then slowly descaled the building. He landed on the ground with a barely audible thud. He reeled the grapple back to its starting condition, and put it back on his belt. He crouched down, covered by the veil of the shadow cast by the building he had just descended. He eyed the man, who was just twiddling his fingers in front of the exposed point of the wall. He felt around the ground, gliding his fingers across the rough pavement. Finally, he found a rock, small, yet it would suffice for its mission.

    He threw the rock to thr right of the man, making the man look away towards the noise.

    This was his opening.

    Lectrix was an expert thief, some would say the best of them. He was quick and light on his feet, allowing him to take the second that the man looked away to race toward the wall and escalate it. One he was at the top of the wall, he paused and looked back at the man, who resumed his regular practice of facing forward, leaving his back exposed to Lectrix.

    He let a small smile escape his lips before he jumped off the wall and was on the other side.
     
  25. Flint

    Member
    Flint The Barber

    Joined:
    Monday
    Messages:
    17
    Magic was a funny thing.


    Flint was fifteen years old when he learned that magic coursed through his veins. That it invaded his every breath, and left him just as quickly through the fingertips. As a boy, he had been marked as a natural expert at practical works. Maneuvering tools like electric through his fingers as if he’d been training with them for decades. His mother feared the skill. His father marveled at it. Flint… well, honestly Flint took it for granted.

    He stood, leaning lightly against the wall Rainie had instructed him to stand by, passing a coin between his fingers at remarkable speed before tossing it to his free hand and repeating. He did not need to think about his hands’ movements. He didn’t even have to look at the coin. People were amazed by what he could do with scissors and a blade. Few ever stopped to wonder if it was really him doing the work, or the magic.

    So engrossed in his skills and talents was he that Flint did not notice the rock skittling past his feet. He didn’t see the assassin vault the wall either, despite the failed distraction. Silently waiting for Rainie to return, the barber wondered why he’d tried to impress her with a sob story instead of a bit of sleight of hand.


    Lectrix Rainie
     

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