Open Chronicles To Catch a Thief

[Nazarach]

Thunder clouds rolled across the sky pulled by the Goddess Neket and her four strong slate grey horses. If the myths were to be believed it was the force of their hooves hitting the sky with such speed that caused the flashes of brilliant light that illuminated the clouds from within. A single, deadly lightning bolt plummeted to earth and scorched the land around it to dust. As the light faded and the eye readjusted to the darkness of the storm at the centre of that ashen ground stood a giant of a man. His black trench coat flapped madly about his ankles in the wind and rain that lashed at the ground but he did not pull it closed to shield himself for the elements. He hardly seemed to notice it at all. His focus was entirely on the market town below...

Nestled in the crook of the Tarreden Hills, the Whispering Hills was a pleasant little market town that had enjoyed reasonable trade and success over the last few years owing to its favourable position on the Silk Road that stretched across the two continents known as Epressa and Liadain. The day had started like any other with bright autumnal sunshine and the biting frost that heralded winter's arrival on their doors. Bakers had risen early to put in the fresh loaves, the maids in the inn had thrown open doors and shutters to air out the previous evenings dirty straw and the smell of stale alcohol. Farmers who had already been up for hours trundled into town with their bounty to sell at the weekly Sunday market. None of them had remarked on a stranger in their midst who had muttered to himself as he walked. They were all too focused on the sudden appearance of a storm.

Men and women ran about trying to tie down goods or hurl them under cover. Mothers coaxed children inside and inn keepers held their doors open despite the buffeting of the wind and waved people inside frantically. Nobody knew where the storm had come from but nobody seemed to think it unusual. Perhaps it had rolled down off the hills. Nazarach knew differently.

As he wandered down the hill into the empty town streets below he kept glancing at something in his palm that glowed in the dark. The stone was here, as was its thief, but where... and how could he stop them before the town was destroyed?

 

[Eliana Lialdi]

The Whispering Hills had been pleasant to Eliana over the past couple weeks. It had given her warmth in the fast arriving winter chills. She hadn't brought the proper clothing for such weather, but the people of Whispering Hills had treated her kindly in helping her to feel comfortable. She couldn't completely settle in, she knew that. She had to be on her way somewhere eventually. She just didn't know where she would find herself. The only place she could think to go was Elbion, but she had very little money. It wasn't nearly enough to get herself a horse or hire a carriage to make the travel less harsh.

The worries of future travel was the last thing on Eliana's mind as the unexpected storm wind whipped through her hair and battered at her cheeks. Thunder cracked somewhere in the distance, too close for comfort. Eliana had been perusing the market as the farmers had all set up their stalls and painted the town in the bright colors of fresh fruit and vegetables. A farmer she'd recognized and become friendly with was huddling under his stall, trying to keep it attached to the ground in the strong winds.

Eliana quickly offered her help. She'd just led an older lady into one of the stores and pointed anyone else around to take cover indoors when she'd noticed the farmer trying desperately to collect his goods. Eliana took one of the many large sacks tucked in the farmer's carriage and began to pack the food into it, tying off the top and beginning with another.

"Come on, you need to get indoors," she shouted over the howling wind.

The farmer shook his head and uttered something, though his voice was lost to the sound of thunder. Eliana assumed he wouldn't be leaving his stall unattended. Huffing, she resumed her packing of his goods. Once the rain began to batter their faces with all the force of a hurricane, she had succeeded in finally getting the farmer and his countless sacks of food indoors. The doors shut behind them and Eliana could feel the weight of her sopping hair and clothes drag her onto the ground. From the window she spotted an abnormally tall man wandering through the streets as though the storm did not exist.

 

[Garrod Arlette]

Another pair of souls had made their way into the shelter of the Ragged Pony Inn. "Welcome," Garrod called out from a table, not too far from the door, or the window through which the massive man could be seen striding. "Strange weather this," he mused allowed.

"Aye, and piss is yellow, stranger, what of it?" A soaked inn keep grumbled from the door that'd just slammed shut. His whiskers bristled and were beaded with droplets of rain that shone gold in the candle light.

Garrod shrugged, as the wind howled outside, and the greasy light of the tallow candles flickered. " Seems unnatural is all," he said, and leaned back in his chair and gave a yawn, but his eye kept on the large man who moved so easily about outside.

"Oh, and ye be a learned weather-mancer, is that it?" The inn keep took angry steps across the room, and looked over those others huddled around, scared and wet. "Why don't you make yourself useful, hmm, monster hunter? And go fetch some towels from the back room to give out to these folk?"

A nod came from Garrod, and he got up from the table at which he sat, and strolled behind the bar, his boots knocked with each step, and he soon appeared with dry rags, and he started to pass them out, one by one to those gathered inside. They whispered there thanks, and sought comfort in each others company as they muttered about the storm.

 

[Nazarach]

The giant stopped in the middle of what had only an hour ago been a busy market place. He frowned at the compass in his hand which swirled round and round in circles as though the stormy winds buffeted the fragile needle. It bounced back and forth between different symbols but it was as much nonsense to Nazarach now as it would have been to someone who had never seen an Orbitor. With a sigh he closed it off and in a blink his eyes turned a foggy white. It allowed him to see through the sheets of rain and the dark brooding clouds as if it were a summers sunny day. But nothing and nobody was on the streets in weather such as this. The thief had to be inside one of the inns or perhaps they had caught sight of the giants approach and had already fled.

He made a noise of irritation at the mere thought.

In a blink his eyes returned to their normal deep brown and he strode towards the largest inn with its ragged sign and a picture that resembled a short and rather fat pony.

Nazarach had to duck considerably as he entered the inn, taking care not to shoulder the door off its hinges with his shoulders. The gentle notion looked at odds with the raging storm behind him. With an easy shove he shut it behind him then stood dripping on the door mat as he cast his eyes around the room with a frown. At a glance nobody looked like a fellow storm giant but that didn't mean much. They had an apt for changing shape and, of course, the thief could have always been an outsider. With a sigh he begun to squelch his way over to the bar and took up a stool.

"A warm cider," he rumbled and slid a good few coins across the wooden bar. "And a plate of whatever meats on the spit."

 

[Eliana Lialdi]

Eliana watched as the tall man entered the inn and sat down at the bar. She was still on the ground and had just taken a rag from a man with silver hair. She scrunched it through her hair in a vain attempt to dry it off, then ran it over her face and exposed skin. She'd need a change of clothes if she wanted to get out of her soaked outfit. There was a shiver running through her bones and she wanted nothing more than a warm bed and a hot meal.

The man asked for a drink and food. Eliana scoffed and cocked her head. She didn't even think of ordering in the storm. Everyone had just gotten indoors and the floor was practically flooding. She stood and walked over to the man who'd handed her a rag. She'd overheard the conversation he'd had with the inn keep and figured he had some experience here. The bit about him being a monster hunter she kept in the back of her mind. Maybe that'd be relevant later. Maybe he could help her travel.

"Excuse me," she whispered to him as he passed the rags out, "Do you know who that man is?" Eliana subtly pointed to the man at the bar, "I saw him out in the storm. He doesn't seem too bothered by it. Has he been in town before?"

She highly doubted that he had been in town. Eliana had been here for half a month now and she'd never seen the man before nor had she heard him talked about.

 

[Garrod Arlette]

"Hah, the balls on this big bugger," the innkeep grumbled. "Orderin a drink and meat whilst the whole town is swallowed up in storm waters," still he trudged along behind the bar, and took up the coins. "Hot no less, pah, I'll get ye some cider for the time bein, stranger. If ye want hot meat you'll have to wait till the other folk get there share," he turned and moved to the back room, from where the smells of sweet cider mulled with spices did waft. When he returned he had a mug full of the stuff, and he set it down before the big man. "Ye be wantin meat, then ye can come help cook it," a wry smile crossed his lips. "Service carries a premium during times like these, you know."

A whisper came and Garrod turned to regard the whisperer as he handed off the last rag.

His eye followed her gesture, and he took in the site of the hulk of a man. "I noticed that too," he said in a hushed tone, intrigue clear in his voice. "How he just strolled through the gale, and never-minded the sting of the rain," he gave a slight shrug. "Can't say I would know if he has been around though," he nodded to his great sword rested against the wall with a full pack there beside it. "I'm just passing through myself, only been here a couple of days and was looking for work," he scratched his chin with his gauntlet clad hand, the strange armor gleaming eerie in the low-light of candles and storm-grey day. "Guess we could always go and ask," Garrod nodded, "excuse me," he said to the woman, and stepped toward the bar. "I can help you cook, innkeep,"

"It's Larz you bloody monster hunter," the man spat, and shot a weary look at the one eyed man.

"Garrod'll do,"

"Pah, Garrod then, if you don't mind helpin, then you can get first pick of the meats,"

Garrod nodded, and glanced over at the large man. "Hey, big guy, you tell me what business brings you here, and I'll let you have your pick at the meat,"

A look of shock, and Larz' jaw dropped, his bushy brows furrowed like stormclouds. "Wha? Like hell he will,"

Garrod waved his hands, motioning for calm. "My pick, of course, no one elses,"

That eased the Innkeep some. "Pah, fine then, so long as you still help." Larz ventured off to the back room.

It was cold in the room, and those huddled about stayed close to one another for warmth. Some stray eyes and sharp ears did tune in to see what came of the scene at the bar.

 

[Nazarach]

Nazarach's smile was a surprisingly charming one that dimpled both cheeks and brought a warmth to his eyes. Despite the initial appearance it was clear the man was one suited more to laughing and parties than to one skulking in the shadows. It seemed to take the inn-keeper back a little but he was given time to recover before the giant could speak with the appearance of another. The detective turned his head towards him and raised both brows when the stranger offered to not only cook but to give him his choice of meat. A slight note of edgy concern gathered like shadows in his eyes as they flickered between the two men. It felt like one of those moments where the wrong thing said could lead down a road he did not have the time or inclination to travel down.

"Peace," he brought back that easy smile and held up his hands. The inn-keeper turned, muttering, and went off to the backroom. "I appreciate your offer my friend but I am happy to pay and wait for the meal. I am a dreadful cook, these people have suffered enough tonight," he chuckled and then tossed back the heavy cloak he wore on top of the trench coat. From beneath it he pulled a lute case.

"Perhaps some music whilst you cook, for these people," the hooded looks on some of those sheltering begun to ease a little and some of the children in particular begun to look hopeful. "As for why I'm here," he shrugged. "Perhaps I will see how good your cooking is first."

 

[Eliana Lialdi]

Eliana watched as the two men conversed at the bar. She considered offering to help out with cooking, but with the way she was shivering, she thought it better not to push herself. She poked at the inn keep to see if she could get another towel to try drying her clothes and body off. He led her to one of the storage closets in the back with a huff and opened the door. He handed her on of the last clean towels and she took the time to squeeze out the water from the long pieces of her drenched tunic. She stripped off her gloves and rung them out over the towel, then tucked them into her belt. Finally, she ran the towel over her arms and legs. She took off her boots and scrunched her face at the squelching sound they made. She set them down by the wall.

With nothing much to do but scrutinize the never-ending rain and the suspicious man at the bar, Eliana wrapped the damp towel around her shoulders in a vain attempt to keep some warmth and sat herself down one stool over from the man at the bar.

She smiled at him, trying to seem inviting and after a second of situating her wet feet on the legs of the barstool. The man had pulled out a lute case. She cleared her throat and spoke, "I think some music would be lovely. It'd help warm us all up."

 

[Garrod Arlette]

Garrod eyed the case, and smiled small at the mention of music and the half-acceptance of his deal. The young woman from before joined them at the bar, towel draped about her shoulders, and agreed to the offer of music.

"Aye," Garrod echoed. "Music does just as many wonders for the spirit as a warm plate of food," he turned away and raised a hand to gesture farewell. "I'll be off then, to do my part," and he ventured away into the depths of the kitchen, as the wind howled and the Pony shook. Some old compulsion had him tap the wood of the doorframe as he disappeared to the back room..

Loose slats on the siding thwacked and trembled, and the puddle of water that crept through the door just inched, ever more toward the people.

"Alright now, this is an old and sturdy buildin," the innkeeper Larz said, to assuage his worries as much of those of the others, "Its seen many a storm, much like this, and come out none the worse for ware," something outside gave way with a loud crack, and a louder clatter. Larz, from beneath his dark bushy brows. "Just, some... old barrel I'm sure," he made his way over to one of the windows, and peaked about.

In the kitchen, Garrod was greeted by a large slab of iron over the cook fire. Hunks of salted meat were strewn about, and there was some old squash laying about. "Clean water, flour, some butter," he mentally listed what he had to work with. "Ok, I can make something with this," he said, as he unstrapped his gauntlets, and set them aside. His whole kit had to be undone, but it didn't take long before he had a cleaver in hand and the gourds were being cut in halves and quartered.

 

[Nazarach]

The storm giant watched the peculiar man head out back before giving a slight shake of his head and standing. Playing would also give him a chance to scan the crowd for familiar faces. Either the thief was in here or they had fled and left the storm they had created here to grow wild without the Tempest Stones control to bring it to an end. He was beginning such a search as he undid the leather straps when another woman sidled over to the bar with a scrutinising look of her own despite the smile. He hadn't thought his appearance would draw too much comment given it was a market town but perhaps he should have come in looking a tad more wind swept to blend in...

"I quite agree," despite his worries and his real aim Nazarach's tone was nothing but warmth much like that smile that crinkled the corner of his eyes. Flipping open the case as a lightning bolt lit up the windows, he tugged out the lute. More people begun to huddle further from the walls and the storm giant turned to face the cowering audience. No faces he recognised at the first glance... Deftly his fingers flew across the strings, tuning out of habit, before he begun to play.

"I am a pilgrim,
I'm looking for alms,
By the Mercy of God calling.
And I sing with the beautiful voice,
With sweet looks and blonde hair.
I have nothing but my stick and purse,
And I call, I call and there is no one to answer.
And when I wait for the good trip,
A headwind has been storm me...."

His voice was almost as surprising as his talent for playing. Both were beautiful and could have led many to believe him a professional. More people stopped paying attention to the storm and more to the music. And as he played his eyes scanned the people and the storm outside and with his own magic he begun to try and calm the raging winds.

 

[Garrod Arlette]

In the kitchen, the sound of sweet song mingled with the sizzle of sauteing onions, which cooked and hissed delightfully upon the bottom of a black iron pot. The smells, both savory and sweet, danced through the air and put a feint smile on the spell-sword-turned-cooks lips. In a heavy bottomed bot he roasted vegetables together, and he thought on how long it would all take.

"Probably more than a couple of minutes," he said to himself, and switched back to the onions, which he stirred dutifully with a wooden spoon, and watched as the pale white slowly turned to a honey gold. He some flour and poured it over the onions which browned in the butter, stirred it up some, and let the heat do its work. When the time came, he poured in some stock he had found stashed away, and it smelled good enough, carefully, he let it fill the pot.

Sweat bead on his brow, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. The fire crackled and popped, and the music of the cookfire and the food which did sizzle and sing along with the butter-honey voice of the big man made it easy to miss the sound of the storm which raged outside. He looked at the stock, took a spoon and took a taste. "Needs a little salt," he thought to himself and grabbed a dash from a pinch pot, and tossed it in. "Now, lets get some real heat going," he smirked and set his eye on the fire with an intensity in his gaze. He took in a deep breath through his nose, and his hair seemed to stir with the focus of his will. He snapped his fingers, and there was a release of magick which set the fire to roar all the more.
-------

After some time, Garrod emerged from the kitchen, a greasy sheen to him, and some sweat on his brow, but a smile on his face. "Dinner is ready," he announced, and with some help from Larz, they began to serve the cold and hungry people who sheltered in the ragged pony. Hot squash soup filled up old wooden bowls, and on the sides of plates were little sandwiches, bread toasted with butter, and thick helpings of cheese melted there in. When he placed a plate and a bowl before the big bard, he smirked with some pride.

The soup gave off a peppery aroma, but there was a hint of sweet nuttiness there too, and the toasted cheese sandwich, small as it was, glistened golden and well crisped.

"Enjoy," he said to the big man with a bow of his head.

 

[Nazarach]

While the... chef? Cooked, and Larz the bartender swore and cursed and served ale, Nazarach sung and played. The lilt of the lyre and the smooth dulcet tone of his voice were enough to block out the worst of the storm. His magic did the rest. The Tempest Stone had been close to devastating the town it well it might have done had the Storm Giant not arrived when he did. As it was, however, he managed to sing to the Goddess of the thundery skies and appease her with his offerings of life and joy instead. Her tantrum turned from an rampant path of wrath to a mild tantrum better suited to a child. When he cook arrived there were beads of sweat on his brow and it had little to do with the clamour from the crowd for more.

Nazarach was glad to lower his instrument though when the food appeared and he couldn't help the smile that appeared on his lips when Garrod presented the prime cut of the meat.

"It looks like a feast fit more for a king than an modest inn, you did well. Much to someone's dislike," he chuckled, casting a glance to the barkeep who was fretting over a growing order of alcohol. "Why don't you join me?" he nodded to a table tucked into the far corner, dusty and abandoned. The giant rose from his stool which creaked with relief then wandered over. His frame took up most of the corner but he was surprisingly dainty in setting down the plate and seating himself.

 

[Garrod Arlette]

Proud to hear his food praised, Garrod nodded in thanks, and sat next to the large man with the golden voice, a plate of his own already in hand. "Well, I am glad to hear you like it, master bard," he started as scooted in his wooden chair.

"Normally I have much less to work with, what with keeping the pack light for the road," he broke off a piece of the toasted cheese sandwich, and dipped it into the squash soup with dainty little dips. "So, i relish the opportunity to cook in a full kitchen when the time comes," he chuckled softly to himself and blew on the food before he popped it into his mouth and chewed it down. Once he swallowed he went on. "Helps save on expenses too," he looked over at the barkeep, who did his best to serve the crowd. Some young villager was kind enough to offer their assistance, and a line formed in short order. "You'd be surprised how many an in-keep appreciates an extra pair of hands in the kitchen,"

People often figured out how to best help each other when the world grew dark and hostile around them. Less all hope was lost, and those moments were few and far between, Garrod had found.

Garrod's eye returned to the stranger. "I apologize, I have prattled on for too long," he gave a small bow of the head. "I realize I have no name to call you, master bard, nor have I given you my own." He took another bight of the crispy grilled cheese, and licked his fingers before he wiped them off on his pants. "My name is Garrod, and I hunt monsters by trade," he smirked, though there was little joy in the expression.

Nazarach

 

[Fritz Erlain]

Fritz was heading home in the storm. He needed to get back to the smithies before it was too late. He was walking by an in when a large plank of wood flew at him. He jumped aside, crashing through the door. When he gathered himself, he was inside an inn, and he remembered there were a couple more coins deep in his pockets. "It's obviously too dangerous to go outside." he admitted with reluctance. What inn was he even at?

He walked over to a couple of patrons and asked: "Hello? I've been to the Elbi Inn, but never here. What is this Inn named."

After pausing for a bit he said: "I see you have a lute. Are you a bard? Fascinating." He followed up with: "I've never met one of your trade before, but I always am making little songs in my head."

"Oh, right, pardon my manners. This appears to be a public booth. Mind If I sit here?

After giving everyone a chance to respond*, he said "Have your group anything secret to talk about that I should not hear, or can I introduce myself?" He finished, sliding into the booth.

Nazarach Garrod Arlette

*(Pretend this happened after they accepted his request. If they do not accept I can delete this!)

 

[Nazarach]

Whilst the cook - or sellsword as he was soon to find out - trundled on with his monologue of life's reflections, Nazarach was quite content to just listen and eat. Using that much magic to try and quieten a storm that was riding the edge of becoming a destructive force of nature was a tall order and he was not the strongest of his kind. As such his body was feeling the strain and his stomach gnawed hungrily at empty walls. The meat vanished quickly and was soon followed by hearty thick slices of bread which he lathered in butter and used to mop up the sides and drippings. He was a good half of the way through when Garrod finally gave him a name and the detective wiped his mouth then held out a hand with a smile.

"Nazarach," he boomed and lightning cracked outside which only widened his grin. It was a sign of honour from the Gods and he raised his mug of ail to toast their fond echoing of his name. At the tail end of the lightning strike came a newcomer who joined their table with a similarly long monologue of questions and thoughts. Were all humans as such? Wondered the storm giant. Or was this just because of the storm? They had a habit of making folk jumpy.

"No secrets," the giant shrugged. "Garrod and I have just met. Are you also a traveller like he?"

 

[Fritz Erlain]

Whilst the cook - or sellsword as he was soon to find out - trundled on with his monologue of life's reflections, Nazarach was quite content to just listen and eat. Using that much magic to try and quieten a storm that was riding the edge of becoming a destructive force of nature was a tall order and he was not the strongest of his kind. As such his body was feeling the strain and his stomach gnawed hungrily at empty walls. The meat vanished quickly and was soon followed by hearty thick slices of bread which he lathered in butter and used to mop up the sides and drippings. He was a good half of the way through when Garrod finally gave him a name and the detective wiped his mouth then held out a hand with a smile.

"Nazarach," he boomed and lightning cracked outside which only widened his grin. It was a sign of honour from the Gods and he raised his mug of ail to toast their fond echoing of his name. At the tail end of the lightning strike came a newcomer who joined their table with a similarly long monologue of questions and thoughts. Were all humans as such? Wondered the storm giant. Or was this just because of the storm? They had a habit of making folk jumpy.

"No secrets," the giant shrugged. "Garrod and I have just met. Are you also a traveller like he?"

"No, not a traveler. I work as smith's apprentice, but have my own hobbies, like music, or practicing swordsmanship. Where do you hail from, Nazarach?" he asked, noting the burly, big man's eyes, which were a almost opalescent grey.

He remembered seeing those colors somewhere....Baestl's Bestiary, that was it. What was it on...Storm Giants or something. He knew it would be rude to ask, but it was there now, and it fizzed up uncontrollably.

I'm very sorry about this, Nazarach, if I'm wrong.

"Oh, if I may ask...Garrod's eyes are green and mine are blue, but I've never seen that color except on you. It's almost like you...are half something else or something." he asked. "I only note that because...well, I lied. I'd seen those eyes somewhere else inside a bestiary of the world I read on my break from work."

"The page was on Storm Giants."

 

[Garrod Arlette]

The flash of lightning and the crack of thunder had Garrod's eye widen and his head perk up. Talk about timing, he thought to himself, to which the wind blew in a new face who stumbled and sat in an empty chair before them. He pressed a question, but when the monster hunter looked up to the tall and booming Nazarach, he saw only eyes the color of warm soil, with no hint of grey. Garrod laughed with no warmth.

"Smith's apprentice, you must have magic in your own eyes, or this Beastl's gone and swindled you, for his eyes are as brown as fresh turned earth, and I only have the one." He scratched his chin and peered out the window and saw the calming storm. "D'your head get hit by debris?" Garrod turned his green eye and some worry was there in its gaze. "Do you need to see a healer? There's like to be one huddled around the crowd here," he looked over at the other faces, ready to call out to them.

 

[Fritz Erlain]

The flash of lightning and the crack of thunder had Garrod's eye widen and his head perk up. Talk about timing, he thought to himself, to which the wind blew in a new face who stumbled and sat in an empty chair before them. He pressed a question, but when the monster hunter looked up to the tall and booming Nazarach, he saw only eyes the color of warm soil, with no hint of grey. Garrod laughed with no warmth.

"Smith's apprentice, you must have magic in your own eyes, or this Beastl's gone and swindled you, for his eyes are as brown as fresh turned earth, and I only have the one." He scratched his chin and peered out the window and saw the calming storm. "D'your head get hit by debris?" Garrod turned his green eye and some worry was there in its gaze. "Do you need to see a healer? There's like to be one huddled around the crowd here," he looked over at the other faces, ready to call out to them.

"You are probably right. Silly of me to make such an accusation. I happen to feel fine, though. Actually, debris is why I'm even in here. Two wood planks and a small tree flying towards me, and unfortunately I may have dented your door, or whoever's door that was, diving in here. I certainly dented my head." He joked.

"So, from where do you guys hail? I'm Elbian, born and raised." he explained. "Also, Garrod, if I remember correctly that's your name, have you any metal? I've heard of many places that have ore and such native to their areas. You being a traveler, I thought you may have been out in the world." he said innocuously.

"Oh, look at me ramble. I have one more comment...this storm is incredibly bad. Worse than I have ever seen. Also, Elbion being a floating city, We usually endure the worst of storms and lightning striking is much more common than on the ground."

Garrod Arlette Nazarach