Open Chronicles Green With Envy

[Sylvie]

Bandits and monsters were nothing new to the roads of Vel Anir. Many an adventure could full his pockets slaying beast or acting as escort for merchants looking for extra insurance on their investment. However, something new came across the eyes and ears of the would be adventurer that plied his trade within Vel Anir. Recently many a Merchant dealing in cloth or clothing came under attack by goblins wearing clothing that exceeded the very same goods that were taken from them. While most simply laughed of the notion of goblins caring about such things as dressed up. A wealthy merchant's gold soon caught their attention as he offered a king's sum for not only the head of those regal rogues but information on who or what was providing them with such finery.

All adventurers who showed their interest would be directed toward the main gate of Vel Anir to rendezvous with a wagon bearing the Merchant's seal. The plan was simple; escort the wagon along the Vel Anir - Falwood road keeping the guard light in appearance only as the extra guards will hide in the wagon or reamin out of sight. When the goblins show their hand; surprise and break their ambush capturing any that look to be the leader and drag out any and all informtaion methods are not important. Lastly secure their stockpile of clothing and goods and whatever was providing them with said clothes alive, if you cannot bring them back alive don't come back or expect pay.

 

[Cassidy Ackerson]

Cassidy Ackerson hated Vel Anir. He couldn't stand their human supremacist tendencies, nor their tendency to try and solve everything with violence. They were stacked to the gills with soldiers and weaponry, and instead of trying to make the world a better place, they sought only to improve themselves. Even so, the red headed mercenary had to make money somehow, didn't he? The spreading word that a large reward for the capture of this so-called "Dapper Goblin" was too tempting to outright ignore.

His gloved fingers counted the loose coins in his leather pouch, an elbow leaning on his blade Damascus as he clicks his tongue in thought. The blue material of the blade glimmered brightly in the sunlight that peeked through the clouds overhead. A black cat curled lazily around his neck, watching him with little interest. He'd managed a couple 'eviction' jobs here in Vel Anir; code for kicking the poor out of alleys belonging to business. It wasn't work he enjoyed, but it paid enough to give him a roof. He made sure not to rough em' up too badly, anyways.

He'd been about to depart the blasted place when he'd heard the news of the goblin. If he was out wandering the roads outside of the fortress city... It'd be a tough catch. There was a lot of area to cover for one guy. The reward was hefty though; If he played his cards right, maybe he could round up some help and split the gold. If not, he could always go to the plan B that already began to take root in his head.

Slinging Damascus over his shoulder in a makeshift sheath, he pets the cat on his shoulders, scratching beneath her chin.

"C'mon Mar, let's find us a Goblin dressed to kill."

 

[Palmyra Creze]

Palmyra had just escaped to Val Anir, truthfully she'd never been in such a big location before and she hoped before the bounty went out on her head she'd get to enjoy it. Despite there being many faces here she still wrapped her linen wrap around her body and face showing only a few locks of obsidian coloured hair contrasted by her peridot eyes. Truth be told the young girl looked like a little mummy, maybe if she wasn't so petite she might look a tad intimidating.

As she walked down the foreign streets observing her surroundings she stopped to look a merchant's stand hearing the gossip around her. If her ears heard correctly there was a goblin to kill. Truth be told Palmyra didn't want to hurt a fly but the gold seemed to be a lot and Palmyra had nothing. She wilted a little as she walked away the gold chain attached to the silver shackle on her wrist wound up in her hand. She might be able to sell the chain and shackle for it to be melted down, giving her some sort of funds.

She feared the likelihood of people far more experienced making their way to the wagon, so she picked up her pace a little before deciding no one knew her so she contained the full rights to sprint down the busy streets, chain dragging behind her as she held onto her linen wrap. Maybe if she didn't open her mouth she'd appear like a desert assassin adding to her intimidation factor, but Palmyra was mostly sure it wouldn't work. Perhaps someone would be interested in her healing skills and her communications with her gods. After all she didn't need much to get by, just enough to establish herself.

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

Short of money once more, Kiros had been in search of a something with which to line his coffers. Money had been a constant issue since his departure from Amol-Kalit, one that his role as travelling healer did little to resolve. Larger settlements generally held a cabal of resident healers – who generally didn’t take well to undercutting from a foreign priest. While rural farms and small villages were often just as much in need of a healer’s talents, they were far less able to remunerate him for his efforts. Kiros often found himself accepting food and lodging instead of payment; a deal honestly more preferable than taking what little wealth the peasants had. The situation had left him with a dearth of coin, a present problem; should Itra send him off on one of Her errands again, She’d tolerate no delay to finance it.

It was to his delight then to learn of a bounty, but to his concern that it had been put out by Anirians. He knew their policies well; in his younger years before he had become more well travelled he had regarded Vel Anir in a much warmer light. Attacks and raids by the Abtati, or sand elves, were a constant threat he had grown used to in his adolescence; and like most Kaliti he knew no better solution than to go and hunt them down. That the Anirians hated elves so much made sense to him, and that they were so dedicated to the cause implied that their elven problem was far worse. It was an assumption he carried with him when he took a job with them as a mercenary shortly upon his exile from his homeland.

The deployment had been eye opening to the young priest. The task was rumoured to be an easy one, and he was initially happy to set forth in support of Vel Anir. Eagerness for battle had waned however, once he caught sight of the fortification. He had expected a raiding camp, or barracks, but instead a meagre town lay ahead of him and the mercenaries he’d regret signing up with. The rumours had certainly been true; the elven townfolk were hardly able to put up sufficient resistance against the invasion. It was clearly no military target, and unlike any clash he had known against the Abtati of home. It was a scene of unrestrained violence, of harrowing sights, and of chilling sounds. The clash of weapons and shouts of war were interspersed with the cries of children, and pleas for mercy ended with horrified screams.

While the Kaliti slaughtered Abtati with enthusiasm; the Abtati themselves did much the same with constant raids and attacks. Kiros had regarded the slaying of elves as a means to an end; the provision of safety. The Anirians however seemingly built their entire identity around elven genocide. Kiros didn’t care to participate further in the raid, nor to witness more of it, electing to simply desert the battle. It meant forfeiture of pay, but a bargain compared to what was required to earn it.

Still, dire need for coin made him desperate enough to consider an offer – and it was to his relief that elves were not involved. Instead, the task involved goblins and the guarding of a caravan; and rather than a raid, the job described baiting and countering one. Despite that it was the Anirians employing him, the job itself sat much better with Kiros than he formerly fretted. Regardless of the kingdom they called home, the Anirian villagers deserved a life of safety as much as any.

The very next day saw him at the described gates, clad in his holy robes and prepared with the requisite provisions he’d need for the task. He had no clue who else had signed up, but he doubted he would be the only one chasing after the offered reward. He’d meet them soon enough; in the meantime he packed his tobacco pipe and set it alight, taking a draw while waiting at the location.

 

[Sylvie]

Nestled off to the side of Val Anri lay the wagon spoken of waiting under the king's banners that rested along the imposing wall made out of necessity due to the kingdom's ignorance and folly. Adventurers and sellswords dotted the area around the wagon as group of men in blacken armor seemed to have taking control of the bounty.

Pushing his why to the front was a young adventurer as green as could be with basic leather armor and with an old worn short sword and a wooden shield that resembled the top of a barrel more than anything "This is bullshit the bounty is open to all"!

The young man's act of defiance gained the ear of one of the blacken leather mercenaries who drew his sword as he approached the young man with a sneer with another one knocking back an arrow. "Hold your tongue boy least I cut it off! You should be honored to have a chance to work for a Virak boy"! Tensions seemed to be at a breaking point with only violence looking to be an answer till a man in polished black armor bearing the Virak crest approached the young man taking off his helm to reveal his black hair and blues eyes as he looked down at the young man.

"What is your name boy"?

the Young Adventurer kept his fierce gaze at Lobrec showing no fear nor backing down "Bebro and yours".

Letting out a hardy laugh at the Boy's gall, "Lobrec Virak son of Obrurt Virak"! Raising his hand to tell his men to stand down he would work to the middle of the group looking for work as placed his helmet on before drawing his sword. "Well if your so adamant on wanted to take part in our little extermination show me that you have what it takes to fight with us"!

Bebro halted for a moment as he looked at the full clad Lobrec wielding his claymore waiting for the boy to arm himself. For a moment it seemed that since was about to overtake Bebro however, Lobrec's mocking soon got the better of the young man as he drew his sword and shield as he charged at Lobrec. While many would of liked to see young Bebro best the noble, life is unfair. The fight was over before it had even started as wood splintered and steel snapped as Bebro's adventure ended before it had even started.

Swing the blood off his sword as he made his way back to his men as he looked to the crowd. "Now does anyone else have any complaints"? Silence fell over the group, "Good". Lobrec began pointing to those that seemed somewhat competent though not competent enough to survive. "The tomato haired one with the cat you look competent enough. The old priest as no doubt we'll need healing". Looking around Lobrec would point to a Bald Breaded Kaliti man in simple blue grab with a scimitar. Then his attention would be drawn to the women attempting to conceal herself with a silver and gold chain dragging behind her. "You slave girl come along we could use the entertainment". Laughing under helm as he walked back towards the wagon letting his men pick out the rest of the fodder.

 

[Cassidy Ackerson]

No sooner had he set plans to form his own little hunting party had fate revealed it's own plans for Ackerson. He'd seen the crowd gathering around, a bunch of ruffians and hard-necks by the looks of them. The idea that they were going to entrust these thugs to any task would have been ridiculous, but then he didn't put anything past Vel Anir. The display of brutality against the young adventurer made him want to gag; Poor kid made the cardinal mistake of making his intentions of pursuing a bounty known to anybody else. He wished he'd gotten to the kid first.

In Cassidy's eyes, this was much more suited for a small group of 3 or 4. There needn't be an entire hunting party for a few goblins, no matter how well dressed they may appear. As the one loudly proclaiming himself to be... Borleck? Lrobek... was it? called him out from his nice little shady spot beyond the crowd, Cassidy lifted his head to look from the side of his vision at the man. He wasn't the only one being called out. A slim, pretty looking lady wrapped tight in cloth and dragging chains behind her was called out too, as well as somebody who looked to be some kind of priest. So what, this brute thought he was calling the shots now 'cuz he killed some kid? He smiled and moved to approach Lobrec's little mob.

"Well now, I suppose I'm a little flattered that you noticed me all the way back there, 'Lorback'. Before the frail, vulnerable girl and the unarmored priest too. Gotta say, it's swell you didn't take swings at us before you decided to involuntarily recruit us to this little bounty hunt." The furry black cat dropped from Cassidy's coat and curled around one of his legs, leering up at Lobrec warily.

He reached down, leaning on his blade and petting the creature gently as he continued. "And I'm guessing you aren't planning on splitting the reward very cleanly if I do help you? I'd assume the girl would get jack squat, the priest maybe a week's worth of food, and I'd be lucky to get a fifth." He clicks his tongue, leaning on his sword and eyeing the man up. He was brawny, but that claymore was about as easy to wield as carrying around another man on your shoulders. These types drove him up the wall; so overconfident that just a little probing in the right place could drive them into a frenzy. Either way, they were in the way. This one seemed quite proud of his name. That made it all the more fun to continue to get it wrong.

"Now, I happen to have my own idea of how to handle this little goblin hunt. It doesn't involve you and your midwives here. A bounty is a bounty 'Lorkak', that means anybody can turn it in. Of course..."

He drummed his fingers idly on Damascus' hilt.

"We could always settle things the way you seem to enjoy most. Unless my fellow forced recruits have a better idea...?"

 

[Palmyra Creze]

He had called her a slave girl... she supposed she did look like a slave. Oh well she decided. Until the red haired fellow spoke up. Her kohl lined eyes darted from man to man reading the tension. She didn't like it. Palmyra stepped up beside the red haired man and set a delicate hand on his back, just a simple gesture showing she was here in case he hadn't heard her approach she had no intentions of scaring a tense man.

"Gentlemen. Enough blood has been shed here, yes? We unite for the same cause, no need to be at eachothers throats." Her accent was thick but her voice sweet natured and rather demure. She was aware these men wanted the coin, after all coin ran the world. Palmyra looked at the red haired man, she had a keen sense of telling a person's character, this fiery man was muddy yet pure deep down. It was he she decided to put her faith in. He had a cat. Palmyra bent down slowly and reached her unshackled hand out towards the kitty, it could come to her for love if it so chose.

Truthfully she knew there was likely no peaceful alternative here, yet she did her best to try and keep the men calm.

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

He looked up at the commotion between the naive man and the other clad in black. He announced himself by noble name, and acted with the same sense of self importance naught but he gave a care about. Nobles were more often than not egotistical prats – And this Virak seemed little different. It was well apparent the younger adventurer had no place here, and when presented with the challenge Kiros fully expected the lad to back down; by all means the most reasonable action to take in his position. To his surprise Bebro charged the menacing Lobrec; but in unsurprising consequence he was swiftly cut down in midst of his efforts. While regrettable that he lost his life, it was foolish to have accepted the challenge. Kiros only wished he had taken the opportunity to speak sense to the lad, rather than mistakenly assuming he had any.

When called out without even the mention of pay, he merely leered in back response. A reward split among so many would amount to a meagre amount – and he had little doubt the noble and his band would take the lion’s share of it; a sentiment the red-haired one shared aloud. But he who spoke up had plenty of further thoughts to share with Lobrec, which he did with candid words. It seemed that the duel that just finished would not be the last to take place.

But he would be called out a second time by the swordsman, one among the collective addressed as ‘forced recruits’. The younger Kaliti spoke of hope for a peaceful resolution he well doubted would result. Kiros himself had simply planned to handle the situation much like he did with his mercenary tasking; by abandoning the bounty. But with the challenge issued, matters might change; giving him cause to stay and see the end of it. Speaking nothing, he simply gave the slightest affirmatory nod of his head. Given Lobrec’s life by the sword, Kiros couldn’t care if his death was brought by the same instrument.

He looked over to the state of Bebro next, unsure whether the man was dead or merely in the process of dying. Were it the latter, he would have the power to save his life through healing, though it was a process the band might take issue with. The ongoing altercation between the swordsman and Lobrec could be distracting enough to give him time to do so. If able, Kiros would lay a blessing of health upon him. Yet regardless of whether he wove magic or not, his attention remained on the confrontation unfolding before him.

Sylvie

 

[Sylvie]

While there was nothing left that interested the noble, the Red Head's comments caused Lobrec to turn around as he rested his claymore on his shoulder. "It's Lo-brek churl and no one is forcing you to come along, though if you refuse my kindness there are many who will take your place.

Preparing to wave the man away as he look to the crowd, however the Man's next words gained his ire. "You will be reward by your worth and performance". Lobrec would point his sword at the Merc while his men circled around with the archers boarding the cart to gain higher ground. "I suggest you silence that tongue of yours lest you meet the a similar fate at that boy there". Looking to the corpse of the young man, Lobrec would kick it out of the way and past his men towards the crowd gaining a gargled sputter of pain as the boy some how clinged to life for moments longer.

With the boy removed from the surroundings Lobrec tried to flick the blood off his polished sabaton before looking at the man as a thought crossed his mind. "If sense has taken you and you wish recompense remove this filth from my foot and I shall forgive your past transgressions". Raising his sword he presented his bloodied sabaton to the Red Haired Merc.

Wagging his foot as he grew impatient, "Well what is your choice or does that foolish head of yours have other plans other than to be removed by myself". Lowering his foot as the man began to speak, however as soon as he heard that the Man had other plans he and his man readied their weapons as the time for talk was over.

Preparing to charge the fool of a man as he had the advantage of number and gear as a sword was a poor choice when fighting against plate. Though as the fight was about to start the Slave Girl moved in halting his charge. "Move girl this is no place for a woman as this man has sealed his fate"!

Keeping his weapon at the ready, he listened to the girl's words. "Perhaps the fool should have stayed his tongue; however", Leaning down and grabbing hold of the loose chain, Lobrec winding it around his hand, reeling the girl in like a fish; placing her in between him and the Merc as his helmet hid a devilish grin. "If you are so keen on peace why not convince him as I do not wish to see a beauty such as you weep for one such as him".

 

[Cassidy Ackerson]

Cassidy crossed his arms, watching with a rather nonplussed expression as he was surrounded at the point of a blade. A small click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth is followed by a rather unimpressed reply. "So you'll take the boy head on, but you gather up a posse of bowmen for me huh? I guess I'm flattered. Doesn't speak to your own bravery very well though, if I'm being frank with you."

From off to his side, he hears the mewling of his cat, followed by the presence of a soft, sweet sounding voice. The girl who'd been rushing through in such a hurry offered words in attempt to pacify the situation, stepping in front of him. It was a bold move, especially considering she had no idea who Cassidy was. His lips parted as he watched her, and he tucked his tongue into his cheek for a moment. "Hey..." He muttered to her quietly. "You really don't need to stick your neck out for me on this one. I can handle it..."

It was a bit pretentious of him to act like it was for his sake, and he knew that damn well. He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder just as he heard the sputtering cough of the boy who'd been assaulted by Lobrec. He looks to the priest briefly, nodding towards the boy and silently asking if he could be saved. He hated that the two strangers were being dragged into this, but he had a whole squad of bowmen trained on him now, and he couldn't do this alone. He wasn't paying much attention at all to Lobrec's gallivanting, and he wouldn't have bent to his will even if he had been watching.

If he had been watching, he probably could have stopped Palmyra from being tugged away into the big lug's arms. He quickly looked back to his adversary, swearing underneath his breath. "You little cowardly piece of..." He'd underestimated how low this lug would go, and while they were standing here arguing, caravans could be getting ransacked by the band of goblins they were supposed to be hunting. "Lobrec, there's no time this. Let her go, there's no money on her head." Ackerson unclicked the sheath on Damascus and pulled out the sky-blue blade, readying it at his side. He wanted to cut the bastard down where he stood, but with the girl in his arms and bows trained on him, he didn't have a clear shot. He had to think of something, and he couldn't ask for help from that other fellow, not if he could be used to save the poor kid. Maybe...

"We don't have to off each other. You could already be out there goblin hunting by now, and you're letting some nobody like me distract you. Is this really how you'd like to spend your time?"

Palmyra Creze
Kiros Rahnel
Sylvie

 

[Palmyra Creze]

Despite the freighting situation Palmyra stood tall. “Sir,” she began in the same sweet tone “I do not wish to be a bother by any means, but I am not a slave, nor have I ever been. I appreciate your compliment but if it wasn’t too much to ask of you may you unhand me?” She asked him genuinely. Her eyes were crinkled as she smiled.

It was highly unlikely the man would let her go but Palmyra had no real reason to be mean to the man. She had no real reason to be cruel to anyone. Regardless she sent a prayer up to her goddess, for safety of course. Palmyra did not feel it her place to die at the hands of this man. Yet there she stood still contained by the large man. Her head turned as she stared at the red haired man, as if silently saying “I’d appreciate any help you could give me but if you choose not to help me, that’d be quite alright.”

After she gave her glance to the other man she looked at the dying boy. She wished to help him, she had the herbs on hand to do so, plus her goddess’ good favour. Yet her place was here, there was a priest man who seemed to have the abilities to help.

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

His attention remained divided between both the escalating confrontation between the Anirian noble and the red-haired man, and the possibility of healing. Words were exchanged, and the noble dared to make a demand of acquiescence from the one who stood up against him. There was no doubt that the mocking demand would be met with violent response; yet, upon being issued with a challenge, Lobrec took the young woman hostage with the clattering winding of her chains in his grasp.

The turn of events gave Kiros pause, eyeing her endangerment with concern. The young girl hardly had the strength to fight or struggle; at least, unaided. His blessing of might would grant her the power to resist – but tending to Bebro, who let out a sputtering cough in the throes of death, was a matter clearly more urgent. And given his gravely injured state, the injured man required his healing promptly. His life existed in a state of peril, hanging on by a thread in danger of snapping. Should functions vital to survival cease, there’d be nothing the healer could do. While he had ability to heal grave wounds with invoked spell, he could not restart a stopped heart. The red-haired one would need to stall for time, as it was not a commodity the dying Bebro had to spare.

Kneeling down beside him, Kiros held his staff upright in one hand and laid his other on his injured body. With a softly spoken prayer from his lips and a dim glow of light emanating off his hand, the spell began to take effect. The river of blood flowing from the deeply inflicted wound was lit in a similar glow, before abruptly ceasing with the laceration that bore it steadily shrinking into nothing. Another cough was followed by a gasping breath, and younger man slowly opened his eyes before patting himself down for wounds that were no longer present.

The work was performed quickly, and his attention turned from the young man the moment he was revived. The situation read as tense and threatened to shift at a moment’s notice; Kiros was determined to remain prepared for it.

The conflict however, appeared to reach a standstill. The woman was oddly calm about her situation, a fact for which he was grateful. She did not lose herself to panic and clearly wouldn’t escalate matters. Though the swordsman's tone had taken on a notable and reasonable shift, he appeared composed as well. His sword was unsheathed and at the ready, but his attempts to talk the nobleman down continued. Kiros doubted Lobrec would heed his words; he seemed anything but the type to listen. Little more than a bully, he would likely continue to taunt the red-haired one from the position of power he presently enjoyed from the situation.

If only for a moment more.

Rising to his feet, Kiros uttered another incantation; this time spoken loudly and with an exaggerated motion of his staff. His eyes remained locked on the girl throughout, hoping she would realize the potential the spell conferred in lack of any visual effect it made upon her. Given the glow from his staff and shouted words of magic there however, there would be little doubt of a hostile response from the noble and his band – provided his healing had not provoked them already. Beyond simply weaving magic, Kiros intended to make himself a diversion, sensing that it was for the better that attention shift to him. The girl needed an opportunity to escape, and the swordsman an opportunity to act.

With his staff held firmly in a battle-worthy grip, Kiros prepared himself for such a reaction from Lobrec and his crew. From the very outset, he felt certain there would be no peaceful ending – if violence was to be inevitable, it was prudent to have it begin on their terms.

Sylvie Cassidy Ackerson Palmyra Creze