Open Chronicles Alliria Information

[The Nameless One]

A sword struck through The Nameless One's chest as he walked into the building, he would look down and look behind him. Phasing through the physical matter of the sword and person.

The guard who saw him yelled in surprise, "Ghost!?" He gasps confused and startled unsure of what to do.

"Oh hi!" The elf waves, but the guard wasn't able to hear him but the guard was still scared and the elf could have sworn he saw a hint of a wet spot between the guard's pants.

Sighing the elf grumbles rubbing his temples, "You want to show me where your logs are and where your higher up live." He casts a spell on the guard who freezes, looks tired, and walks down the hallway. Once he opens the door and leads the dark elf spirit into the room The Nameless One looks around then snaps his fingers.

Out of nowhere, it seemed a large sum of crows and ravens speed into the building, the poor guard woke up, and before he could do anything. The ravens and crows dragged him away. The elf chuckles and heads to a bookshelf and starts to scan through them, using a bird to turn the pages. He was searching for books and information on the merchants and higher-ups in Alliria.

Useful information for Vyx'aria and her kin.

But for now....

Who were the important figures in this city's society?​

 

[Arden Smollet]

A white-sailed cog had arrived in port a few hours ago. It's crew of ragged old sailors was captained by a one-eyed forty-something man they called "Mister Smollet". Not Captain, mind you, just mister. The harbormaster's manifest showed they were visiting Alleria to trade cloth and hemp, yet when the one-eyed man separated from his men at the pier, his feet didn't direct him to the merchant's quarter at all and he was soon spotted entering a sailor's haunt that he had yet to leave.

In truth, Mister Smollet had been hired to exchange information with another agent and then bring said information across the Allerian Strait and down the Sayve and Bystra rivers. His crew consisted of old pirates, which is to say, very experienced killers of other men with the sole purpose of protection this intel. It was a strange job, but the ale they served in this particular establishment was good enough and roasted pork was to die for..

Now all he needed was for someone to approach him, say "It's really dark in here-" and for him to reply "-not as dark as the underrealm." Which, to him, made no sense at all. He'd never even been in the underrealm, so how'd he know how dark it was.

Rhiannon