POOHEAD189

The Blackwood

The baroque architecture loomed around every corner, but it wasn't overly frightening during the daytime, particularly when the streets had people from all different walks of life marching to and fro. The men had a penchant for well tailored cloaks whilst the women wore corsets or bodices, save for those working at shops or wearing expensive dresses, surrounded by toughs that likely would shove either Silvaine or Cillian out of the way were they to wander straight into their path.

Luckily, they had good instincts and found a mid-tier tavern at the southern edge of town, riverside just by the bridge, with the name 'Iron Star.' Inside, it had the look of your average tavern, superficially. The floorboards were wooden, a bar counter was set up near the back left for those who chose to only drink, and barrels of different drinks were at the ready to be popped open. Aside from that, the richly dressed or colorful patrons and elaborately carved busts of heroes upon the walls, as well as the intricate overhanging lamps gave it a much higher quality atmosphere than most taverns. Not to mention the food and the security, were ones worried over such aspects.

The patrons were varied, though there were a few of notes. A beautiful elven maiden wearing the attire of a mercenary; a succesfull and well-paid mercenary in riding leathers sat across from what appeared to be a Gnome in plain clothes and a sporting goatee. Cillian and Silvaine would also spot a woman wearing a less than modest gown speaking to a thick limbed rich man, looking positively bored whilst two other men in the corner softly spoke over their drinks, wearing robes of acolytes. Finally, a solitary Dwarf looking positively disheveled sat alone at the bar, drinking what looked to be his third drink of many to come.

The two heard bootsteps behind them, and they would both part for a very tall woman; a Skayleigh warrior maiden actually, bring invited over to sit with the Elven woman and the Gnome, who both waved over happily. The Gnome looked a little too happy which caused the elf to kick his shins. He cursed and eyed her with a temper, but didn't say anything. The Skayleigh went to join them, laughing at the exchange.

Cillian and Sylvaine could try and speak to any of them or go to the bar and order drinks and food, or simply wait at one of the empty tables or stalls.
@Romero@Duck

How come there are so few Table Top Roleplayers here?

I know you're not meaning to be such, but blatant sexism is against the rules. @reaping Adder

How come there are so few Table Top Roleplayers here?

Girls can seduce?

@reaping Adder

What

The Blackwood

@Jb Post when you can so I can give you and Tony some love

The Blackwood

@Duck@Romero You two get a post tonight!

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

I'm still deciding on Edgar, but I promise I'll post this week!

Scum & Villainy: Black Market Runners

You guys will get an update tomorrow or Wednesday!

The Blackwood

Mari had nearly a quarter of the day to bathe and take a nap, which she did so gladly. The soreness and aching of her limbs was eased, and the dirt and grime of the road washed away. The room for the night cost 2 Lordlings, or 40 Commons, whichever she wanted to spend. With no extra charge, she was given her own time in a hot bath and new clothes she could pick out to wear, courtesy of Ithaca vouching for her.

That night, the bugs sang loudly outside of her open window before she slid it closed and made her way down the stairs, passing by an older couple and a strange elf wearing ornate armor passing by her without so much as glancing her way. He seemed focused completely on whatever was on his mind.

Her boots gave a clack on the wooden planks as she stepped onto the barroom, drawing a few gazes her way. The room was large and spacious, with at least sixteen large circular tables, all of them filled by hard men in mercenary leathers, weary and celebratory travelers, and merchants wanting to relax or sell their wares. She recognized a few faces in the crowd, as well. Mrs. Richardson wearing an apron, serving various cakes. Po Harthwyn was at the far left of the room, speaking alone to a sagely Dwarf as if they were old friends, though whatever it was they were talking about, it was business or news.

Ithaca said at the right of the room, her rump firmly planted on a barstool as she spoke to some large creature, it looked. An armored Draconic humanoid, red scaled and wearing ornate plate armor of strange material. It was fully eight feet tall, and it stood rather than sat as if it was not planning on staying long. Luckily there was a seat beside Ithaca that had yet to be taken. If Mari turned her gaze, she would also see an older man and a younger man at the center of the room, taking up and entire table. Judging by their darkly colored robes and well-mannered speech, they were mages of a sort.

Where would she go would be her decisions, or perhaps she would try and find one of the few empty booths left and order herself something?
@Luminosity

The Blackwood

The piles of books were so high and varied that it would take days if not weeks to comb through all of them alone, even whilst she was skimming the spines to see if anything could aid her. Luckily, she had all the time in the world save for her empty stomach, which led her to promptly order her Gundarogs to go out and hunt something to bring back and cook for her, which they hurried to do so with gusto. It gave her alone time to sort through the piled tomes, and she found three of interest. The Eldernomicon, The Tome of Perpetual Horrors, and the 2nd edition of Dirge of Dragons.

Through the hours, she did not find much on how to orchestrate the dimensional archway. However, she did find out much needed information on Gekir'vash'ni'k'kashnik'ash, or at least on what exactly he was, for it became clear he was not a demon. Or at least, not originally. It seemed the Warlock was one of the Lost Ones; a member of the Drogator species that split from its ancient people and never settled in the material plane of existence, or what some called Mannaheimm or Stridheim. The story goes, long ago the Gods found they had failed in their contract with the great Dragons and created an offshoot race known as the Drogator, only the Dragons at their height of their inter-planetary empire flung the newly made Drogator into the Thousand Realms to die and be lost into the nether forever.

The race did not die as the Dragons had thought, but fought an endless war against fey and eldritch denizens for thousands upon thousands of years, until just over a millennia ago they had reached Maroleth once more and invaded it, thinking this planet not their lost home but a new home to preemptively conquer. Thus it led to the brief but bloody Forsaken Wars, and the establishment of the Drogator's people on their reclaimed homeplanet. However, a faction of the Drogator had branched off in the nether, content to find homes among the lost realms of the void. These 'Lost Ones' have been missing for over ten thousand years, gaining knowledge and perhaps Daemonhood. Gekir'vash'ni'k'kashnik'ash is such a being.

After she had a brief dinner of cooked boar courtesy of the Gundarogs (one having taken a nasty goring, and would have died were it not for its armor), she went back to her studies. Within the first two times, the Elf did find a few chalk and sulphuric circles to temporarily bind demons or eldritch things, but only for a limited time. She would need something more...

The crystal ball every pulled her towards its swirling form, and after lighting what candles she could in her sanctum, the sorceress went to activate the ball with a weave of a calling spell, drawing forth what energies she had regained over her rest. Thankfully, it only required a brief charge to flare it to life. Within, the clouds of murk sudden dissipated and the image within was flung across the sky, northward perhaps or westward, it was hard to tell. It seemed to grow dark again, though the energy was still very much alive...working...

More than a minute came and went, and the archway awakened once more. Not in such chaos as before, but gradually and almost mechanically, functioning as one would wish it to. The gateway held the picture not of twirling chaos, but a soft iridescence until someone stepped through. Someone taller than Kyiriniae'aea but undoubtedly not the demon that had come through before.

It was a human. A younger male human at that, with a thick mane of dark hair and bronzed skin. He had a somewhat plain look to him, though he wasn't unhandsome in his way. His nose was perfectly sized, with nice lips and his eyes were bright and intelligent. He wore the pragmatic trappings of a traveling wizard or scholar. In his left hand was a wand of elm, and in his right was a long knife, though when he saw Kyiriniae'aea he relaxed a bit at the sight of a High Elf.

"Forgive me," He said, looking around. He cleared his throat, having clearly been caught off guard by her presence. "I am Alcander. High one, did you... activate this?"

Clearly he was a mage, and though he was nowhere near the Lost One in power, he was very much on par with Kyiriniae'aea and likely less tired. Her bewitchment he would likely sense, but good old body language and a subtler magic like dazzle might work if she wished to sway him in some form or fashion, though that could of course wait.

"Where are we?"
@Penny

Hey Y'all!

@Arcelia Lovely to meet you, and I hope you enjoy your stay! Let me know if you need any help with anything (good tastes too. I love archery and historical/fantasy)