- Messages
- 89
- Character Biography
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There had been murmurs around the city and outlier settlements outside Vel Cirak that a monster had claimed the life of a merchant on the road. Many were quick to blame a werewolf, something capable of ruining the life of a loving family, but Cleo knew there had to be more to it. Yes, the facts made it clear this monster was capable of targeting, with wares stolen from the destroyed wagon and the deceased showing very little wounds that would clue into any mark of a creature or his untimely death.
And when night came, the streets and homes were quieter. Despite the presence of Dreadlords and the Anirian Guard, more than capable of fighting off the creatures that chose to haunt those living this far into the Falwood, it spoke volumes that the residents resorted to their old ways and did not trust their protectors to protect them.
Cleo was one of them.
Growing up in this city, she had seen her fair share of close calls and stories that spread through the bustling streets. Unfortunately for some, she also saw the most monstrous of all creatures that frequented this wooded area: humans.
"There is a bet that no one can unlock the chest they recovered from the accident." She overheard the butcher attempt to whisper to his friend, although after several pints, he no longer had control on the volume of his gruff voice. "It's just sitting in the Captain's office."
"Under lock and key, and with a heavy rotation of guards. I bet that chest is Milton's priceless family heirlooms. Heard him saying he was moving his things to Vel Hetren to be close to his dying brother. Tough luck on the family."
"Aye!" Someone had shouted, and many repeated and saluted their drinks in the air to the fallen neighbour.
Cleo halfheartedly lifted her own ale before leading the rim back to her lips to taste.
"I would pay some fool to go to the trouble of finding out what is in there. Respectfully, of course. It should not be in the hands of the Guards or the Dreadlords, right lads?" More affirmative responses were said to this.
"I will do it!" Said a drunken trader.
"You wouldn't make it past the front door!" The butcher chortled, slapping a hand onto the table and laughing so horrendously, Cleo was unsure if she should laugh at his laugh or be horrified that the sound was equivalent to nails scraping against board.
"The front door is easy, actually. You say you want to make a complaint and they will simply let you in because they love to sit on their arses all day and night." Cleo sighed, standing up from her chair in the corner and approached the barkeep, lightly placing her empty pint down. "Ask Dane, he can happily confirm." At this, Cleo turned around and leaned her frame against the bar and rested her shoulders onto it to steady herself. She grinned at the red headed young man, who only blushed as every eye looked his way.
"The Guard... yes, they are lazy, but they also do so much--" He started, but his mistake was to justify anything to do with the military force in this city.
"Fuck off!" Many waved him off, and Cleo had to purse her lips to keep from laughing too.
"You cook for a bunch of men that do not pick up after themselves. Their mothers would be heartbroken!"
"Like I said, the job is as easy as saying so. Milton was no deadly man, so what would they want with an chest that cannot be unlocked?" Cleo threw out there as the barkeep nudged her shoulder and tapped a new pint down for her. "Unless Milton was doing work for them, and that chest is not his property. Lucily for you all, I am happy to find out with a hefty payout for such a challenge." She grinned, sliding her coins to pay for the new ale. "I just need one volunteer to assist me."
And potentially throw under the fire if things got too hot.
And when night came, the streets and homes were quieter. Despite the presence of Dreadlords and the Anirian Guard, more than capable of fighting off the creatures that chose to haunt those living this far into the Falwood, it spoke volumes that the residents resorted to their old ways and did not trust their protectors to protect them.
Cleo was one of them.
Growing up in this city, she had seen her fair share of close calls and stories that spread through the bustling streets. Unfortunately for some, she also saw the most monstrous of all creatures that frequented this wooded area: humans.
"There is a bet that no one can unlock the chest they recovered from the accident." She overheard the butcher attempt to whisper to his friend, although after several pints, he no longer had control on the volume of his gruff voice. "It's just sitting in the Captain's office."
"Under lock and key, and with a heavy rotation of guards. I bet that chest is Milton's priceless family heirlooms. Heard him saying he was moving his things to Vel Hetren to be close to his dying brother. Tough luck on the family."
"Aye!" Someone had shouted, and many repeated and saluted their drinks in the air to the fallen neighbour.
Cleo halfheartedly lifted her own ale before leading the rim back to her lips to taste.
"I would pay some fool to go to the trouble of finding out what is in there. Respectfully, of course. It should not be in the hands of the Guards or the Dreadlords, right lads?" More affirmative responses were said to this.
"I will do it!" Said a drunken trader.
"You wouldn't make it past the front door!" The butcher chortled, slapping a hand onto the table and laughing so horrendously, Cleo was unsure if she should laugh at his laugh or be horrified that the sound was equivalent to nails scraping against board.
"The front door is easy, actually. You say you want to make a complaint and they will simply let you in because they love to sit on their arses all day and night." Cleo sighed, standing up from her chair in the corner and approached the barkeep, lightly placing her empty pint down. "Ask Dane, he can happily confirm." At this, Cleo turned around and leaned her frame against the bar and rested her shoulders onto it to steady herself. She grinned at the red headed young man, who only blushed as every eye looked his way.
"The Guard... yes, they are lazy, but they also do so much--" He started, but his mistake was to justify anything to do with the military force in this city.
"Fuck off!" Many waved him off, and Cleo had to purse her lips to keep from laughing too.
"You cook for a bunch of men that do not pick up after themselves. Their mothers would be heartbroken!"
"Like I said, the job is as easy as saying so. Milton was no deadly man, so what would they want with an chest that cannot be unlocked?" Cleo threw out there as the barkeep nudged her shoulder and tapped a new pint down for her. "Unless Milton was doing work for them, and that chest is not his property. Lucily for you all, I am happy to find out with a hefty payout for such a challenge." She grinned, sliding her coins to pay for the new ale. "I just need one volunteer to assist me."
And potentially throw under the fire if things got too hot.