Mokley — Roleplayer Guild

Chapter 2: Light
In collaboration with @Rekaigan

It was a lovely late afternoon. The sun was going down, and the skies were painted in a beautiful red and orange. The tavern bustled with noise as patrons ordered drinks and food, and the bards singing their ballads. A certain Uron sat at the counter, eating a warm stew from a wooden bowl provided by the barkeep. A much larger man sat next to the salamander, ordering a big tankard of ale. He looked down at the diminutive figure and let out a sharp bark of laughter. "Aren't you a funny lookin' lizardman, eh?! I've never seen one so small!" He bellowed, as if he wanted to embarrass the poor creature. The Uron looked up at the man, her eyes staring blankly at him.

"And I have never seen a human with such a big wobbling head." She retorted, giving the human a shrug. The man stood up from his stool, picking up the 2ft creature by the scruff of the neck, lifting her up. "What'd you say to me? Huh, pipsqueak?! It sounded like you wanted to be my new belt!" He shouted in anger. At this point the barkeep intervened.

"Hey now, don't you start a fight in my tavern. Especially against someone a third of your size." He growled. The aggressor looked at the barkeep for a moment before dropping the salamander, her body making a small 'thud' as it hit the floor. Getting up from the floor, the Uron made no further statements as she placed a few coins on the counter. However, after further inspection, the barkeep noticed that it wasn't any kind of currency he'd seen before.

"Now you're just messing with me. Get out of my tavern, you gods damned lizard!!" He bellowed as you grabbed an empty tankard, furiously throwing it at the creature, however she was already out the door by the time the tankard hit the floor.

---

After making a fair distance away from the tavern, the Uron slowed down to catch her breath. She wasn't used to running around so much, and she felt like kicking herself for forgetting to bring human currency.. Although after giving it some thought she wouldn't know how she would've gotten any in the first place. She wandered the streets for a little while, looking at the various buildings. It was interesting for her to see how empty the street was compared to the morning. The buildings were tall. Much taller than the ones at home, naturally. But these ones had triangular roofs.. How strange. Perhaps they needed to factor in the falling sky?

Since his arrival by fishing-boat to the sleepy merchant-island of Blue Sails, Sorn had uncovered what he was looking for and in the process had lost track of Slee. A part of him was glad she'd become confident enough in human company to make her own friends -- but of course, the loss of his first recruit was a blow to his ego, especially now when he actually needed her.

He was in that tavern -- nursing a hot mug of ale while he brooded over his own dim luck, dressed in layers of fine and oversized clothes the pirates had left behind on Slee's beach -- when an uproar broke out over the equally dismal day that small gecko-y person was apparently having. While the two-faced barkeep sent the gecko scrambling with a shout and a heavy projectile, Sorn's mind had only begun to turn its gears, fuzzily distracted by the wailing bard and the buzz of the ale.

By the time realization had dawned on him -- and he'd dropped a few coins for the muttering barkeep and rushed out into the sunset-orange street -- the little gecko-person was gone.

With a snarl and a quick decision, he picked a direction and started running through the twisting cobbled streets.

By an unexpected stroke of luck, within minutes of searching he turned a corner to find the small shape of that same cloaked gecko, shuffling and gawking at the houses, probably lost. Sorn stopped for a moment, hunched with his hands on his knees, to catch his breath -- then, with a sharp fangy grin he jogged forward to catch the little person's attention.

"If it's money you need," he called without bothering an introduction, "I could use help with a job. Could pay well." His voice echoed dimly on the quiet street, and he stood in his oversized gray coat and salt-weathered boots, grinning with shark-sharp teeth. "I can promise it's legal, if you care about that."

As the Uron walked amongst the buildings, she felt the something approaching her. Perhaps it was the barkeep looking for his money? Or.. Another human. She turned immediately as the man approached her, letting him speak before responding. He was trying to recruit her for something? "Ah yes. I would not mind some of your human currency. It will be useful for future endeavors." She began in a blank tone, her bulging eyes fixated upon the man. She wasn't too worried about what this man could possibly want with someone like her. If he wanted to kill her, she couldn't figure out why he'd go through such a roundabout way.

"I find it interesting that humans must reassure one another of a job's legality. It's as if you cannot trust one another." She thought aloud, scribbling notes into her notebook before realizing that the human was still standing in front of her. "My apologies, human. Pleasantries are in order. I am Zeku, an Uron from Isaimel. It is good to meet you." she says, taking a formal bow. His grin was a little off-putting for the Uron, however she had come to accept the fact that humans look very different from each other, and some potentially can look like another. Whether or not their appearance correlated with their personality was unknown to the salamander.

"Eh." Sorn waited with a patient twitch in his expression while the ... Uron? ... scribbled and articulated and bowed. He half wondered if she was mechanical in some way, but opted not to check. "Sure. Right then, this way." With his hands in his pockets, he gestured with his head and led the way down the darkening street.

Streetlights along the cobbled road flickered to life, illuminated by glass boxes full of green-glowing capsules. Sorn chose a streetlight and quickly clambered up the post; at the top he forced the box-lantern open and stole two of the green capsules before he slid down again. He handed one of them to Zeku: it was a glass ball about the size of her palm, swirling inside with a gelatinous liquid that seemed to swirl and undulate on its own accord. It cast an eerie hue on her surroundings, but made the night far easier to see in.

They passed the road to the tavern, where the brighter firelight flickered on spilled beer in the street, and where a few drunks were belching and laughing raucously -- and Sorn led Zeku onward into a darker part of town, lit only by the pale blue moon, and through the gates of the city cemetery.

Sorn hadn't slowed his pace and hadn't looked to be sure she was following. He continued on between the tombstones, some of which were dated centuries ago or were too weathered by age to be read.

Ahead rose a modest little mausoleum made of a gray-brown stone, ill maintained and very old, cloaked in snaking trails of vines. For the first time Sorn looked back and waited for Zeku to catch up, holding up his own glowing glass capsule. "There's just something in here that I need," he assured her with a smirk. "Walk where I walk, don't get lost."

With that he pushed open the groaning door and held it for her. Inside was a small room of stacked stone coffins, each given a brass nameplate. One coffin was off to the side, with no plate and no name. The cover had already been pushed aside -- and inside were stone-carved stairs that led down into complete darkness.

Zeku noticed that the man didn't respond with his name in return, as the custom implies. This confused the young Uron as she continued to try to the understand Human customs. In the end she went along with it. Perhaps he'll tell her his name at a later time. She hurried to follow her employer as his steps were much larger than hers, but she showed no real sign of tiring.

The man's movements further confused Zeku. Was it normal to climb up streetlamps like a monkey and steal the lights within? Perhaps it was just this human's way of rebelling against his people. A criminal as they called them. However, the human reassured her that this job wasn't illegal. There were many mixed messages bouncing around the Uron's mind as she stared blankly at the small green orb in her hand. She pocketed it as she lowered her lantern to eye level. Turning a dial to the left lowered a small stone into the liquid in the lantern, causing it to glow vividly. Perhaps she'll find a different use for the lamp sphere.

Zeku wordlessly followed the man, curious as to what he had in store for her. The cemetery was a very strange place for a job, but again, she had been assured that this was legal. She didn't not fully know the laws of humans, because according to some; there are unwritten laws. Why there would be such a thing, she did not know.

The Uron merely nodded in response to the human's instructions. Perhaps this place was full of traps? In which case, that would mean that they are not welcome. Walking through the door, she noticed the stairs that led downward. She decided to say something now.

"If the stairs were hidden, doesn't that mean we are not welcome? I believe you stated that this job was legal. Human law states that we cannot enter another's property without consent, yes?" She asked in a blank tone.

Sorn flashed her a sharp grin that glinted in the light of her lantern -- he'd only been waiting for an objection or evidence of uncertainty so he had an excuse to argue.

"But this isn't anyone else's property," he told her in a factual tone. "The last Tumlorain died a century ago," he held his little glowing ball up to a small plaque that showed the old birth and death years of Annabelle Tumlorain, now long gone. "This is their tomb. Since they're dead, it doesn't belong to anyone now -- therefore, we're not trespassing."

With a knowing smirk, he climbed into the bottomless coffin and began his way down the stairs. "The Tumlorain family goes back to the beginning of history," he explained, his voice echoing on the dry walls. "They were tasked with keeping watch over the dead -- to make sure they didn't rise again. They built and maintained these tunnels so that if any corpses did wake up, they'd never find their way to the surface. It's a labyrinth not many people know about. Perfect for hiding treasure."

He led the way by his meager little light, casting a haunting glow on the cracked walls -- but even as he turned down narrow hallways and entered doorways that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, he didn't stop to see if Zeku was keeping up, nor did he look back.

"There's something in here that belongs to me," he continued, though he might well be talking to himself. "But it's in a place I can't reach anymore."

He passed by other hallways and passages: one was illuminated in the distance by what looked like sunlight, though outside it was certainly nighttime. Another passage was filled with pulsing little lights like bluish fireflies -- and another seemed to be full of thick green foliage and a warm misty musk, like a small jungle growing in the dark underground. Another doorway seemed to lead into complete darkness -- but were those eyes blinking within?

Sorn gave no heed and no explanation, and turned another corner through the silent old catacomb.

Contrary to popular stories and the lists of horrors attached to Wanted posters, The Dragon wasn't a monstrous man, wasn't obviously strong or heavily scarred or missing any limbs. Were it not for the layers of mismatched, weathered, highly expensive clothes and handfuls of glinting rings he might have blended in easily among any crowd. The only accuracy in his identity was the tattooed pattern of lines on the back of his hand -- the constellation from which he took his name. With this hand he scribbled numbers on a curled page of parchment, sitting alone at a sticky table on the grayer side of Padstow.

A wooden cup of ale appeared at his elbow, and above it the bartender gave him a tired look. "If ya ask me you kin sit here an' buy drinks all night -- but there hasn't been a ship since this mornin' -- who'd you say's supposed to show up?"

The Dragon finished writing another equation, then with a released breath leaned back, an elbow over the back of his chair and the pen dangling from his teeth, to peer up at the bartender. "Say a great fortune fell into your lap," he suggested hypothetically, waving the pen at the bartender, "but it had an old curse on it that'd drive you mad and to death. What would you do, Bonesy?"

The bartender puffed his chest and replied immediately. "Nothin' too foul fer my family, Sir! I'd take that fortune, Sir, and exchange it for clean money, an' give it to my wife an' my girls, and I'd go happily suffer whatever curse's waitin on me!"

The pen waved thoughtfully between the Dragon's teeth, and he grinned a little. "That didn't occur to me," he admitted. With a final decision, he slid a few coins under the empty cup and got to his feet, rolling the parchment between ringed hands. "If a snake-faced lady shows up, tell her the deal's off," he said while he strode out of the tavern, much to the confusion of the bewildered barkeep.

The air outside reeked of old fish and crusted salt, and the sky was turning blistered shades in preparation for evening. The Dragon moved quickly through the mud and stones, dodging a goat and a cart, headed into a back-alley shortcut to the docks and the ships tethered on the gray cove below.

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aka windyfiend

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