Twhirtley

(Ebonfort) Strangers in a Strange Land

Raffey looked over at the feminine voice, his hands continuing to work, cutting flesh from skin. He'd never caught this one's name, or if he had, he'd already forgotten it. His eyes studied her for a long while, trying to discern more about her. Clearly she was some sort of dragon, like the tales of old, but not quite. Maybe she was a halfbreed or some sort of accident gone wrong. He'd seen her drawing and taking notes throughout the journey. Perhaps she was a cartographer. Except this was known land to most. Some sort of academic that was for sure.

With as many of the tents he'd seen her enter, she was clearly a woman with tastes similar to his own. Not terribly picky, can find the fun and beautiful in anyone, yes, much like himself. She had quite the exotic look, voluptuous, with meat on her bones that he liked. Many of the women he'd spent time with in Ebonfort were slender. After finishing his long, hard look at her, "Nah needt fah a trade. Ya can ea' wit meh. Waste nah, wan' nah an' all dat."

He beckoned her over with a half smile, before remembering something, "Doe, eef yah go' some wine, mayhap we share, no?" He continued to cut away strips of meat, long cuts, before hanging them over a nearby branch. He cut down a few more branches and began rigging a make-shift spit. This was a still spit though, not a rotating one, with a few extra rods, set above the fire. He then dangled the meat over the sticks, adjusting them several times, taking in a deep whiff of the newly cooking meat.

He leaned back, looking around the camp, wanting to smile, but his heart just couldn't quite let him. He was a terribly distracted man, dazed and distant. Mumbling somewhat, "Aye 'ope she okay.."

They Have Returned (Ebonfort)

@Rekaigan@Drache - Since my GM post was over 3 weeks ago, and only Drache has replied, I'm moving forward with just her. If Rekaigan (or Wild Alyssa) wish to join back in, contact me so I can work it in.

Ebonfort

Blood and Gold has been created featuring Graakt, Cecielle, and Cole.

Blood and Gold (Ebonfort)

@terrorbubble@thetruthwhale

Blood and Gold (Ebonfort)

Starting Date and Time: Jadeyan 28th, 301 DM, Shortly after sunrise

Starting Location: Docks near Graakt's Gadgets

CS URLs: Graakt Softhammer & Cecielle & terrorbubble's character upon creation

Graakt just finished his breakfast, after offering the last of his sausage to Shkara. The metallic and wooden cat munched on it happily, as the bits and chunks of it fell away to the table. He didn't care that she couldn't actually eat it, he enjoyed the company of her. He rubbed her head between the ears, before cleaning up.

He stepped out of the shop and locked up, Shkara already out and about, protecting her rather large slice of neighborhood from other cats and rodents. As usual, Graakt was in his ragged leather pants and cotton long sleeve, both worn and dirty from his work. As he walked along the docks, admiring the small fishing schooners and other small ships. There were rumors that other civilizations existed, so maybe one day soon large ships would start coming here. Trade would breathe some life into this village.

The various dock workers, teamsters, and other laborers were all in their own forlorn discussions, faces grim. And understandably so, tensions between the Knights and the various criminal gangs, and the regular citizens, were quite high. Ever since Inola was slain, it had been getting uglier and uglier. She was the niece of one of the crime lords, and daughter of the only baker. A sweet girl, kind to everyone. The story that was circulating that she saw a pretty coat that she liked, and took it, only to be seen by a Knight. The knight had been a pretty aggressive guy and had scared the 8 year old to tears. She tried running, and he chased, and during that, the girl ended up dead on his dagger.

Her death hit the community hard, her father shuttering his business while he mourned. Her uncle on the other hand was angry, so very angry. He'd offered to pay anyone that made difficult the lives of the few Knights' that were stationed in their village. The village being filled with the poor and the criminally inclined, the citizens did a fantastic job of making them miserable.

Then someone took it a bit further. A masked man had kidnapped the Lieutenant Knight that had killed little Inola. He tied him up, dragged him to the top of the Knights' Depot, and executed him before a crowded street, before dumping his body unceremoniously. The Knights' had been unable to capture the man and he disappeared. This led the Knights' to detaining random citizens and interrogating them. Men, women, children, none were exempt it seemed. The entire situation was volatile, and it seemed it wouldn't be long until full out war in the streets erupted.

Graakt walked away from the docks toward the market, where a human man on a crate was shouting. The locals knew him as Virgil, the right hand man to one of the local crime lords.

"Shopkeepers, merchants, craftsmen, anyone with a few silvers or more to spare. There will be an auction in three stretches, at the old Skivven warehouse on the docks. Entry is one silver, and all things will be sold. You can trust me and mine that you can always find something you want or need here. This is a private event, so no black hearts will be there."

With that, the man stepped down into the crowd and disappeared. Anyone local could read between the lines of what was said. Black hearts was the nickname given to the knights. The one silver entry meant the goods were stolen. Trusting them meant they were providing security. Graakt figured he'd be there, standing there a head taller than most as people babbled excitedly amongst themselves. He turned to head back to his shop, absentmindedly bumping into a few people and giving them a small apology. Graakt had never delved into the criminal realm here, but it was a near essential way of life to have some minor involvement.

He bumped into yet someone else, "Sorry, my mind is just wandering today," reaching down to help up whoever he'd knocked down, only just now seeing them.

Ebonfort

And I will ask that in the future, your posts in this master thread are respectful. As for editing the wiki, you can talk to me about that whenever you're free. We'll discuss whatever ideas you have.

Time Doesn't Heal Anything Quickly [Ebonfort]

At hearing the request for Amaretta, the woman's demeanor changed. Her face went from cheerful and welcoming to dark and suspicious. She sized up the woman in front of her, immediately discerning her injury and occupation of choice from the tiniest of details. She knew who'd sent this woman. For a half moment, she considered drawing the knife from its slot in the bottom of her desk and putting this woman down now, but she knew Amaretta had a soft spot for Jakobi, despite his... goals. The "receptionist"'s job was to keep Amaretta protected after all, from influences both dark and Knightly. Anyone with her power was an incredibly valuable asset, and needed to be controlled.

Her face was already back to cheerful and welcoming once more, as if it had never changed in the first place. "She'll be with you in just a moment." The woman stood up, taking totally silent footsteps into the backroom. She was gone for a few moments before she came out with Sera Amaretta. The woman smiled kindly, "So Jakobi sent you? Do you have his payment?"

She stuck out her hand, palm out. If Megumi handed her the coin, she'd find herself struck unconscious and waking up in a nearby alley at the hands of the receptionist. If she refused to even show the coin, she'd be turned away politely. But if she showed the coin, but kept it to herself, Amaretta would nod, "Please follow me into the back."

She gestured to a lowered table for Megumi to get on, "Broken ribs I see. Those can be quite painful, limiting mobility, could even pierce a lung if you're unlucky. No worries though, I'll fix you up quite nicely." Once Megumi was on the table, the woman would put her hands on her ribs. There was a dull pink glow exuding from her hands, that she pushed into Megumi's skin. It would feel warm and comforting, albeit foreign. That is until the first bone was cracked and set properly, which would cause immense pain. But the pain would disappear just as quickly as it came, and once they were all back where they belonged, the pain was completely gone.

"Good as new. If you see Jakobi again... Please... Tell him..." her eyes had the sad look that could only belong to a woman who'd experienced the loss of one she loved, "Nevermind. I'll fix you up in the future so long as you have that token, anything for the Masks. I can be found here or in my own clinic in the capital." With that, she led Megumi out, "Best of luck in your works, stay safe."

Ebonfort

Welcome @TheTruthWhale to the family and his new character Cecielle of Alanix. She's roaming the Ebonfort region as a merchant.

My new character Graakt has a gadgeteering shop in Azure Strand as well.

[Ebonfort] Out of the Pan

Sirik had signed for the rope to be dangled for him, and nodded in thanks once it was set for him. He took a hold of it, tugging on it to ensure that it is taut. Holding firm, his strong arms easily able to hold him, he pushed off from the wall, as silently as only drow can be. He swung into the tunnel across from him and was out of sight for a moment. If anyone looked, they'd see the rope go slack, then tighten and tighten, forming a guideline from opening to tunnel. Sirik popped his head out and signed at the first person that they should come down the rope and join him, silently and carefully.

Kraven was scowling at being scolded and took hold of the rope, keeping his feet planted to the ground, as he walked down the wall until he was dangling. Then he turned around and swung his way down the rope, hand over hand, until he joined Sirik. Kraven sulked off down the tunnel, lighting another torch, while Sirik waited for the others.

As Drache searched the area, her keen eyes would stumble upon a rock that was clearly unnaturally carved. Upon further inspection, the underside of the rock would have dwarvish letters on it. They would read, 'Three stomps where rock lay shall open the way.' If Drache were to follow the instructions, a perfect cube of dirt in front of her would fall away, to a startled Kraven swearing. After the dust settled, a perfectly carved tunnel with a stone ladder would reveal itself, connecting to the other tunnel. It clearly was made after the main tunnel, likely by dwarves that couldn't get past the traps.

Kraven stood next to a pile of dirt, fuming, rhetorically asking, "What in the bloody hell was that?"

Once everyone was in the tunnel, Sirik stood passively, nodding down the corridor. Kraven scowled, huffing, leading the way with his torch in front of him, one of his long knives drawn. The tunnel was ornately carved, made of laid stone, but held no markings or adornments. The air was cold and humid, the sound of rushing water echoing through them all. The tunnel eventually opened into a massive cavern, that seemed to be more like a temple than a natural cavern.

It was quite ornate, and surprisingly intact, the size of a small village. Drache and Laurel would get mixed emotions from the sight. The design of it, with braziers and torches everywhere, even the flow and lay of the stone work, rang true to them of fire. A place of comfort for the fiery aligned. Except it was flooding. The river could be heard from a lower level, and water coming up through various stair wells and wells and the like. The screams were more urgent now, only heard by Drache and Laurel, and seemed to be emanating from a pit that was in the center of the temple.

Before them was a wide set of stairs leading down to the temple proper, with many walls, columns, benches, and small buildings between them and the pit. Kraven started down the steps slowly, but Laurel was unable to remain calm. The cries were so loud now, so pained, they tugged at her heart, and she took off at a full sprint down the stone steps. When she reached the bottom, she passed over a small stream of water with a graceful leap. As she was in the air over it, the water surged, and shot up, striking her hard, and throwing her forward, flipping head over tail. She landed on her back, hard against the stone, a hundred yards from the pit.

A water elemental walked out of one of the many streams and began stalking its way toward Laurel, who was groaning in pain, barely moving. Kraven was already sprinting down the stairs when the first stream burst upward, forming a wall of rushing water, cutting the group off from Laurel. Kraven slashed at it with his knife and nearly dislocated his shoulder from the pressure. The wall went to the ceiling but only extended to the width of the stairs. Sirik, the drow that he was, had already disappeared silently, leaving Drache and Kraven, to do his own method, as always.