Open Chronicles Whispers From the Grave

[Lyssia D'avore]

The slap of bare feet on the roughly cobbled street, the occasional splash as unshod feet cut through a puddle. The occasional mutter or growl from someone run into, or pushed ineffectually out of the way as, behind, the sound of booted feet and the clank of armor kept pace.

Lyssia ran, a loaf of bread in hand, the ragged skirt of her dress flying i nthe wind of her passage. Her breath was already well beyond ragged, great sobbing gasps as she tried to push herself harder, ever hard, filthy red hair flying out behind her as she darted around a corner, ducking between a pair of people, man and wife and wife who shouted in anger, but were soon too far behind to be heard over the susurration of the people walking the streets.

I shouldn't have, I shouldn't have, I shouldn't have done it! she thought to herself, frantic. It was a silly risk to take, when she could wait and dig through the refuse behind inns or eateries later in the night, fight over the scraps with the other street urchins. Only the faintest memory of a proper meal remained to her. Kind of like memories of a proper bed, a proper roof over her head without the constant threat of being found out, of being tossed back to the street, cold and hungry again. Or worse, there were always worse fates than that.

The girl ran on, pale legs flashing through rents in her clothes, ducking into a narrow alley. The sun was nearing the horizon, such that the alley was shrouded in shade. She tried not to think overmuch on what it was she was stepping on, or in, as she went. This was not the richer part of the city, and the smell of dumped chamber pots permeated the air. She could still hear the boots behind her, but they were growing more distant. A miracle, she thought to herself.

Out of the alley, across another cobbled street, and then into a warren of twisting pathways that made up part of the Old City, the ancient streets wending drunkenly between two- and three story buildings, ancient stoned mossy where the shade was deep.

Lyssia ducked into an alley in this place, ran for several hundred feet until she could no longer see the mouth, then came to a stop, panting savagely. She leaned her back against the damp stone, ignoring the reek of this place, until she had her breath back, and then listened, hard, for the sound of pursuit.

There was none.

She looked at the loaf of bread in her hand, and shook her head. All of this for a meal for a day or three, if it wasn't stolen by some other urchin or riffraff.

Taking a deep, calming breath, she continued into the depths of the Shades, coming out, eventually, on another narrow, winding street. There were few people out in these parts of Mericet. The law, such as it was, tried to avoid the Shades and the Old City in general; the narrow ways made ambushes too easy, and the criminals that called this place their home had little compunction about stringing a Royal Guard up on a lamp post and leaving them to kick out their last breath.

A way on down, there was another alley, but a short one that ended at the back of a storage shed to some place. Lyssa stopped down with her prize, looking at the board she had pried away to gain access, and stopped. A piece of paper, damp and dirty, was pinned to the board that served as the door to her humble abode, a thin bladed dagger of poor quality serving as the pin. The girl-child knelt, looking at it with deep suspicion. She hesitantly reached for the hilt of the blade, and pulled it free, taking up the paper. The words were written in a script she did not recognize, though the words were plain enough to read.

The cowbird has settled its new nest, the note read in precise letters that gave no hint as to who might have written it. Under the eagles' eye in the pale, seek me. No signature, no name, nothing else. Lyssia held it, looking at it and thinking like she had never done before in her life, trying to decipher the code, adept at the game despite her nineteen years.

 

[Neonitus]

i could have sworn the plan had gone perfect we checked all the variables we calculated for months. all that planing gone to waste because my wagon man was late. so here i am running as usual. a bag of coins in one hand and a bottle of rum in the other. i can here the clomb clomb of the guards boots as they dawn horses to chase after me with. we could have made 100,000 in gold each off of that job and now im ducking through the dark and narrow streets hoping i dont run into a guard or rather another pond scum that want what i have.

i stopped on a corner for a breath not.

i look at the bag in my hand realizing its empty a hole had formed in the bottom and there was maybe 10 coins left. the rest must have dropped out slowly as i sped through the streets. i sigh and pocket the coins. its not the first time things have gone south for me and i reckon it wont be the last. i throw the bag into a gutter and continue running.

i dodged in and out of alleys for what seemed like hours. i finally decide ive lost them and sit myself right down because even with speed potions all that running had taken a lot. i take a gulp of my rum. i look to my left and about lose my drink. a very quiet girl was beside me no doubt not to keen on me sitting beside her. i look at her for a moment and take another drink before offering it to her

 

[Pejonala]

Fortune favored those with the gall to grasp opportunity by the throat.

Surely Nejopala could have stayed for further torture and interrogation, the same tired old questions daring to be repeated to the same empty ends. He had nothing he would tell his captors, nor did they have anything they wished to teach him other than the futility of the older races to comprehend the serpentine raiders through brute means.

It made it really hard to sympathize with such overly-complicated creatures, but maybe the naga had just found peace in a sort of simplicity to their lives.

A good bit of noise, other prisoners finding their capture disagreeable, and a poor understanding of naga physiology allowed the black-scaled snake man his departure in the mess. The prisoners saw the superior serpent and gave a wide berth lest they figure out if he was truly as venomous as they believed, but he would hardly waste time on them when he could just find the nearest exit that the huddled masses of legged beings were funneling their way towards.

After that, it was a simple matter of keeping to the dark. He was unsure of where he was precisely, how long he had been passed around for coin and effort to gleam information about his home, but he could always find the shadows nearby where those who fancied themselves good would dread finding him and, even if he got lost, try hunting him.

The air was humid and the ground was wet with the puddles of fresh rain, making the place feel almost homelike. Winding towers of wood and stone leading way to winding and jutting pathways that led everywhere and nowhere with a gamble of which was which. somewhat similar to navigation training, but if he wanted a real idea of where he was and where he might want to go, definitely far from here, he would need the sun or the stars, but the overcast sky provided nothing but clouds he would just be wasting his energy to try to part.

No staff, but he managed to keep his brace. He would of course stand out even for the dregs of the reeking part of the city, so there was hardly a point in keeping it half-swallowed. Once it was back on his wrist, he felt he could focus a little better without constantly worrying about swallowing it completely.

That was parts one through three, now it was time to figure for part four for what he would do next! There were too many enticing unknowns, but the first thing he did was hunt for some food. An odd rat here and a sleeping cat there, not the finest meals but better than the almost-nothing of gruel he had shoved in his face and called arguably food.

Freedom, such as it was, was messy. Slithering his way through alleyways with nary a clue on how to proceed, he kept low to the ground and stayed alert of any noise that sounded like trouble for him. He was in the belly of the beast, surrounded by threats, but still enough of a threat on his own that he might be able to carve a way out if he could keep space and pick a worthy direction.

Rounding a corner, he felt his odds in this city might be good. All he saw were a small one and a thin one of the older races. If the city were not filled with the big, the bold, the armed, and the prepared, then all he needed to do was avoid those who were. These, though, could prove useful alone as they were, but the small space, even with his dark scales, provided little opportunity for him to hide as he approached. Food, resources, exploitable for information, hostage guides, there were so many possibilities running through his mind.

"Lost?" He queried a hiss in their common tongue, learned from slaves captured in raids to keep them better in line but the syllables punctuated sharply and accented with the tongue of a snake. As the distance closed he carried himself a little taller on his tail than he normally did, his red eyes bright against his scales in the dark as he looked down at them, "So am I. Could you help me with that, ever so kindly? I'm not happy with your city anymore."

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

What is a cowbird, she thought to herself, oblivious to the world around her for the moment. A potentially dangerous habit to have in a world like this. She understood the second part of the messaged well enough; the eagles' eye was an allusion to the parliament offices, not the actual Parliament itself. A wine shop nearby, called the King's Head, was what the pale meant.

But what of the cow bird? There was meaning there, but it was beyond her.

A noise broke her of her thoughts, and a casual glance forced her to do a double-take. The reek of alcohol was strong, a scent that managed to cut through the general malodorous alleyway. Reflexively, she reached for the crude knife at her waist, held there by a bit of leather and rope scavenged from some place or another. The strangers' eyes glowed a vivid green, far stronger than the very faint glow deep within her pale purple ones. An adult, to be sure, although definitively not from around here. He looked at her, and then offered her a flask of something that smelled strong.

"Get that away from me!" she exclaimed, nose wrinkled in disgust. It was an odd expression on a young face such as hers, and the lilting cadence spoke of high breeding, not some lowly commoner mucking it in the filth. Definitely at odds with the ratty dress, unclean hair and unwashed face. "what sort of churl gives...whatever that is to a girl?"

If the one stranger with his elfin features, distinctly out of place in those clothes, was enough to cause her alarm, then her shorter pointed ears twitched in true alarm as the next thing came into the alleyway. She gripped the knife - a piece of steel that had been sharpened to a point and had an edge on one side, crudely crafted - until her knuckles were white. So was her face.

"Wh-what is one of y-your kind doing here?" she queried the newcomer unsteadily. A naga! The beast was so big it blocked the alleyway, cutting off the only means of escape. She had her little bolt hole here, of course, but that wouldn't stop this beast from plowing in and doing...

...and doing what? She didn't know. Her imagination populated a laundry list of items, each more terrible than the last. "St-stay back!' She pulled the knife from its makeshift leather sheath, and held it awkwardly in front of her, all four feet of her taught with terror.

 

[Neonitus]

"Get that away from me!"

the girl seem out right bothered by my appearance.

"what sort of churl gives...whatever that is to a girl?"

"the kind that sees another as to whom is down on there luck. liquid bliss, helps escape the world around you" i say the last part half into my my flask as i take another drink of the sweet liquid. i cap it and return it to my inner pocket.

the girl suddenly looks horrified i had not heard the words that exited her mouth because the sly hiss from the creature attempting to speak common intrigued me immediately. what a naga was doing this far away from any naga slave grounds i know of i do not truly know. though he could be a soldier i doubt he would have any business here.

"So am I. Could you help me with that, ever so kindly? I'm not happy with your city anymore."

i smile as cool as a cucumber i was a little tipsy at this point and it seems fate has brought me more trouble, trouble id gladly get into tis the life of a traveling "salesmen"

"could i have a scale possibly one from your under belly?. ive been meaning to acquire some for a potion but-" i pause to pull out my flask once more. and take a swig. "one of my jobs went side ways ended up losing the contract" a blatant lie no one hire me to rob the bank. "you know how that goes" i wink at the snake man.

"as for passage out of here without becoming a big fancy pair of boots by the populace of this great city i think i can help if you can help me with my potion" i smile a big toothy smile the sharpness of my teeth very apparent.

im always ready to do business regardless of my luck. maybe ill become a slave or maybe ill invent a new potion that makes me millions. im willing to take the risk.

 

[Pejonala]

"I wonder the same thing." Pejonala replied to the small girl, in a very simple and level manner. It was hardly as though he had come to this place of his own free will, but such a fact was in the past and did little to change his present or his future.

The recent hospitality of his captors left him with a certain lack of any real tinge of fear from such a small weapon held by desperate hands, and interactions with desperate and maddened slaves had done well to steel his will against such a sight as the girl with a little shiv in her frightened hands. Besides, even if she could manage blood from his hide, all that would do is provide him with a ready resource for a bit of magic, a potent weapon he was not yet otherwise desperate enough to cut from himself.

The other person, however, seemed a fool at the whims of what the naga could only assume was something alcoholic. It was like the first fool on the outskirts of a raid, wandering around unaware and not fully comprehending the oncoming situation. Maybe if it were another naga, there would be merit in fearlessness, but Pejonala's staff had been more a symbol of status and a tool of control rather than one contributing to his power.

The beady red eyes of Pejonala focused on the man for a moment before considering both subjects. The first people he came across might not be the best, but they were certainly the most readily available, but how many would he really need to escape this city? Perhaps one, and the other to serve as an example, but which would be which?

"I only. . . need for one of you alive." He hissed out, lowering his head to the height of the male as he made himself perfectly clear, "The other, should one of you prove more trouble than worth, can always serve as a lesson. I'm lost, a. . . mage of plentiful magic, not powerless. It's your choice how many need die for my leaving, but I think we'd all prefer closer to none."

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

She trembled, holding the makeshift knife without much conviction that it would be of use against this creature. She was not a warrior, nor was she trained in fighting beyond the most rudimentary of basics, enough to keep her safe against more mundane threats. This beast was more than four times her size, and did not qualify as a mundane threat.

She could try to dodge around it, hope that she was fast enough to get away...but that didn't seem like a solid option. There was her bolthole behind her, though, and the naga would not be able to get at her from within. The way through was too small by far, for either the naga or the...drunk.

Her eyes shifted to the drunk. The fool seemed to think he could bargain his way out of this situation with threats. She wasn't so sure that the idiot had the capability of standing up against this creature - she couldn't bring herself to call it a man.

She slid slowly back towards her escape route, and hoped the other would keep talking. Maybe stir the ire of the naga, buy her a moment to flee.

 

[Neonitus]

I smile at the snakes words.

"Oh but snakey friend i think your mistaken. I didn't stop in this ally to be eaten by some over grown lizard." with that bit of insult i pull a vile from my bag and smash it to the ground. Nothing happens and a few secounds of awkwardness follows.
Then the ground sparks makes a poof sound but not much else.

"Well thats about all i had" i say as i sit back down and begin drinking once more.

"I reckon killing me will only upset the men looking for me and if it takes me dieing to get my pesky brothers men off my back and onto yours well so be it" i smile and take another sip.