Tenebrae - User contributions [en]

Fiona

2012-12-12T02:54:52Z

Fiona: /* Logs */

New to the town. Fiona is still making her name in the Explorer's guild. She has been in several missions for the explorer's guild so far!

=Role Play!=
Fiona has been on several adventures of different types so far! Over all, she has meet some interesting people and done some interesting things in her short time. Nor can she wait to do even more! If you would like to RP with Fiona just drop her an @mail! I love to scene, though mostly it happens after 2000EST.
==Logs==
{{TableMain}}
{{T02}}
|Date
|Log
|People
|-
|November 11, 2012
|General Rp -- [[Coming to Alexandria]]
|[[Fiona]], [[Cesran]]
|-
|November 11, 2012
|General RP -- [[Young impressionable Youth]]
|[[Younger]], [[Fiona]]
|-
||November 13, 2012
|Staff Plot -- [[Till Death Do us Part]]
|[[Mel]], [[Ashlynn]], [[Zalara]], [[Eliathitae]], [[Fiona]]
|-
|November 14, 2012
|General RP -- [[Goblintown]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Jareth]], [[Younger]], [[Fiona]]
|-
|November 16, 2012
|Staff Plot -- [[A Land Down Under]]
|[[Hilal]], [[Gavisa]],[[Mel]], [[Vennan]],[[ Angrid]], [[Zalara]],[[ Fiona]],[[ Jessa]]
|-
|November 17, 2012
|General Rp -- [[Once Upon a Jail Cell]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Myrana]], [[Svarshan]], [[Fiona]], [[Eliathitae]], [[Selia]]
|-
|December 10, 2012
|General RP -- [[Rocks, Poop, Hips, and Stew!!]]
|[[Sandy]][[Oates]][[Svarshan]][[Fiona]][[Leisel]]
|-
|December 11, 2012
|Staff Plot -- [[Mercantile Obligation (Porocora DM)]]
|
|}
[[Category:Player]]

Fiona

2012-12-12T02:54:06Z

Fiona: /* Logs */

Mercantile Obligation (Porocora DM)

2012-12-12T02:52:06Z

Fiona:

Title: Mercantile Obligation

Players:Katja, Ashlynn, Albain, Fiona

Summary:A pair of merchants vie for the services of mercenaries to resolve their dispute. What caused it?

-- Log --

He's way out of his depth. A young man, a minor official among the guards has made contact with the guild, which sent you all along to a place on the far side of the docks. He's wringing his hands already as he meets his 'adventurers made to order',"Okay. So... listen... We're looking at possible war here if you guys don't act fast. Nobody's whipped out their weapons or anything, but they HAVE holed up in their compound. An Elvish merchanter Clan, Aerimae, has drawn lines in the sand and their crying for the blood of the Orcish Roaming Death Clan... Needless to say, if this spills over into the streets, it could be bad... I need you to bring Aerimae's matriarch, Saerina to us for negotiations to end this before it starts!" He makes a flipping motion with his hands, and holds out some papers,"Directions to their compound. Um... we don't usually hire adventurers for this sort of thing, but we're not really equipped or trained for it... So... Go do what you people do. And for the Gods' sakes, no blood, if at all possible! This is a tense situation! Now 'shoo-shoo-shoo!"

Ashlynn - who has been, as is her way, frowning the entire time - lifts a hand as if to protest the spill of words from the Watch official. Her mouth opens, and for a moment, she looks much like an oversized, beached fish... and then, as she completely and utterly fails to find the proper words, it closes, the hand lowers, and the frown deepens.

"What is this... Orcish Roaming Death Clan?" she manages after a long moment. If they're a rival merchant house, well - they chose a -killer- name for themselves. Get it? ... Never mind.

Fiona is taken back with how fast the man addresses the situation after the group's arrival. No introductions, no pleasantries. No pastries. Just, here is your mission and go! “Oh...kay..” She offers and looks at the others.Taking the papers from the man before she starts to read the directions. The lack of blood brings a few more blinks to the woman’s eyes as she looks up from the papers and then back down. “Who names themselves death clan?”

Katja's head just kind of... slowly... tilted more and more as the deluge of -words- came out of the merchant. But then, she shrugged, and looked at the map for a few moments. "Orcs, I guess. They seem prone to names like that or worse."

"The Roaming Death Clan! A merchant house. Purveyors of the finest weapons and armor, factors and agents for deadly mercenaries, and proprietors of the finest elegant china and decorative teaspoons bar none!" A pause. "I own their entire Princess Alexandria tea service." He sniffs and makes a shooing motion. As if that could move mighty adventurers,"Quickly now! Er... Huh. Yes. I suppose it is rather intimidating. I assumed that was the point. Onwards now, to Clan Aerimae's compound!"

"Selecting Alexandria's mercenaries for a tense diplomatic situation?" Albain begins after listening to that rambling explanation. There's a pause there as he sizes up the guardsman for a moment. "You are a braver man than I. Well then, shall we convince an elven lady to come sup tea with the roaming bringers of deadly teaspoons?" he asks with an amused grin of the others.

The man taps her chin in thought,"Well... mostly we chose you because... you know... we don't have to pay death benefits if something goes wrong. ALSO, if you piss them off, then it's not our faul- I mean plausible deniability." He tries to look very stern. "Er... what was I on about?"

"Being cowardly, I guess," Katja says with enough good cheer, grinning at the little fellow. She shakes her head, and looks to the others. "Maybe we should just go and leave this one to quiver for a while yet."

“Teaspoons..” Fiona looks at the others and motions, “you have their entire collection of teaspoons.” She looks at the guard as if one would look like they just mentioned that they owned five hundred pairs of high heels, and they were not female. “Okay.” She says and looks at the others. Apparently poker is not a game that Fiona is able to play, as her face says it all, -He has teaspoons...the princess collection...- “I am going to start having contracts.” She says as she walks away, “If I die in the line of duty to the city guard, they pay the death benefits.” Of course who would get those benefits she hasn’t found yet. “If I die from teaspoons..” Fiona looks back at the guard and then huffs lightly before going onwards towards the elvish house.

The man stamps his foot and claims,"There's nothing wrong with having an appreciation for fine tea services!" Now he's just fuming, having apparently forgotten the job entirely.

Ashlynn continues frowning at absolutely nothing - mayhaps the air particles offend her. Still, it's obvious she's still working on parsing the many, MANY words offered.

"We shall do our best to restore order." she promises the official eventually.

There is absolutely no indication she finds any of this strange at all, from the teaspoons to the bloodthirsty elves. The archer has either a rare blessing, or a terrible curse, when it comes to her knowledge of the world - or, rather, lack thereof.

The 'compound' is a clean, well-kept warehouse that looks more like a manor than a place to store goods. A high stone wall, wrought iron gate, with guards on the parapets, and decorative (one can assume) gargoyles lining the roof, and a clean lawn with a hedge maze of all things... It belongs more in the noble quarter by the looks of it, rather than dockside. Unslumbering elves, unsurprisingly, also guard the gate in with their ornate weapons. If elves are ever bored, these guys look like prime candidates.

"I don't suppose any of you fine ladies are fluent in Elvish?" Albain asks with a lopsided smile as he spies the manor before them. "Establishing a good impression might be best for this line of work. Oh, and while we're on that topic; do any of you fine ladies knowing anything about trade negotiations and diplomacy?" he adds.

The guards are too busy glaring across the street at another warehouse, this one guarded by orcs who are glaring back, to really pay the people arriving much attention just this moment.

'Just this,' Katja signs out in Handspeech briefly, before adding; "No elvish. Or... manners, let alone diplomacy," she admits, shaking her head and chuckling. "Why they picked me for this bit, have no idea. Unless I'm just here to be big and look scary."

"I do not speak the language, nor was I trained in negotiation. I am a warrior. Servant to the Hunter." Ashlynn replies to Albain quite earnestly - even though it takes her a good few moments to realize he is, in fact, speaking to her as well. 'Fine lady' she is not, clearly - or at least doesn't consider herself one.

Fiona shakes her head slowly, “Nope.” she says quietly, “If they were dragons...” she shrugs and looks up at the manor, “This is a very nice warehouse...” Swallowing lightly and then pursing her lips together. “I am not very diplomatic to begin with..”

One of the elves hurls an insult in elvish at the Orc, whom, by his appearance, does not 'get it'.

Umien nibbles uneasily on some minty candy, wrapped up in slippery wax paper, as she walks down the street. Defuse hostilities. Right. She came to this city to escape disgrace back home, and now she might end up in a swordfight with Clan Aerimae. That is, if she can find the place. She's cheering up as she rehearses her "I got lost" explanation in her head, until she hears shouting in Elven and realizes she's become unlost. She steadies herself and approaches the commotion, crunching on the last of her candy.

Albain idly twiddles his fingers as he listens to the replies and glances back to the Elvish manor. "So our prospects in this endeavour are not looking too good. No speakers of the Elven tongue, no diplomats... I'll settle for a crook with a charming smile? No?" he asks.

Fiona frowns at the sound of candy crunching. Turning and spotting an elf, the Tsurian looks back to Albain, “Well, we can kick in the door, Grab the woman, Toss a bag over her head and pray we make it past three steps out...” she offers, “I like this idea. Someone tell me its bad.”

Umien puts on her most disarming, cheeriest, unassuming smile. ~Hiiiiiii!~ she calls out with a singsong trill, in city-accented Elven. She even waves. ~I'm so terribly sorry I wasn't here earlier.~

Ashlynn turns towards Fiona and proceeds to glare with an intensity that, if it produced heat or energy, would probably melt a rock.

"It is a bad idea." she confirms. Or, at least, Ashlynn thinks so.

"The matriarch will surely see reason." she says, looking over at the gate. Sure she will. Ashlynn has some skewed perceptions of how negotiations may work.

One of the elves takes notice of Fiona at this point,"I'm going to assume you're joking since you can't possibly be so stupid as to say that in front of us-" Then there's an elf talking, and their attitude instantly improves, ~Oh! Hello there! Sorry that this fine day is being soiled by the dung-scent of the orcs who took up residence there recently.~

A pause from Katja as she looks around at these sudden changes in situation. "We have an elf with us?" she questions rather lamely, looking from Umien to the guard ones. "Guess that helps... seem better at this than us anyways."

Fiona nods at this, “See.” She states and motions to Ashlynn, “always one that keeps my odd idea’s in check.” She looks back to Umien and then raises an eyebrow, “Of course I am joking.” Her brow knots. “What fool would say their entire plan, including death, in front of those that might be dealing out said death.” Looking to the way of the dung scented orcs she nods slowly to something.Apparently she has decided just to chew on the foot she has inserted into her mouth for a while.

The elf responds to Fiona dryly,"Adventurers."

~Well, it's a hazard of the city, you know? Haha. Looks like it'll be a lovely, cool night, though.~ Umien laughs and sets a hand gently on Ashlynn's shoulder by way of greeting. She switches to Tradespeak. "Nice to see you again, Ashlynn." She turns to the elves and bows a brief little merchant bow plus about fifteen degrees of politeness and refinement. ~I am Umien Sukinari of House Arcanum and the Silver Guard. I was asked to come here and look into this trouble. I hope I can be of service.~

Albain blinks at Katja and then back at the Umien who just arrived. "We do? She hasn't said a word of Common I understand. For all we know she's a customer." he replies back, until Umien greets Ashlynn with words he can understand. "Uh, nevermind." he mumbles, then raises his voice to the guards. "We're all with her!" he declares.

"Silver Guard." Ashlynn greets Umien, dipping her head respectfully to go with the words. Clearly, she is familiar with the other woman. "Are you here to aid our endeavors?" she asks of her next. Clearly, she's in the same boat as Albain, and does not understand a single word the pointy-ears are exchanging.

The guard frowns a little bit at something Umien says, as if it should be interesting to them for... some reason,"So... Ah... Miss Sukinari... I feel like I've heard that name somewhere... Anyway, Miss Sukinari, if you're looking for a guardsman job, we could certainly use more hands. You and your friends look pretty capable. We've got a stringent interview process. Trials of wit and mental fortitude and the like. If you want to interview with Aerimae's Grand Dame, Saerina, you're going to have to get through the trials, make it to the inner chambers."

Umien purses her lips and pauses there a moment. ~I've heard that the Roaming Death Clan has been giving you trouble.~ She glances at Ashlynn and nods. "Just a moment." Her attention returns to the guard. ~Has the Watch contacted you yet?~

Albain glances at Ashlynn with this expression of 'You know her right?', punctuated by a few subtle nods and glances in the direction of Umien to get the point across.

The guard frowns and thumbs his nose,"This is private merchant business, Ma'am. None of the watch's business. Oh, I know they want us to put our differences aside, but they don't UNDERSTAND."

Fiona is busy chewing on some of the leather sole of her shoe. Mmm Leather flavored dumb! When the words start in tradespeak she perks up and then holds up a finger. “Ah, but..” she offers, “Wouldn’t it be good for business for the ah..” she looks around and then starts to motion to the entire area. “Feel of the area of comfort for your customers.” Fiona stops and looks at the guard, “I mean if people think that a fight is going to break out, they are going to close up, Move away quickly, then both business suffers...” She nods, “Peace..its good for business wouldn’t you say?”

Ashlynn takes a few moments, looking at Albain with mild puzzlement - as if worried whether he might have developed a sudden tic indicative of some sort of seizure. When the point finally sinks in, she dips her head forward again in a confirmative nod.

"Does your company make teaspoons too?" Katja questions innocently enough. "Are they competition, is problem?" She blinks a few times. Business- not her strong suit. Or why people would just -dislike- someone for what seems to be no reason! Gosh.

The guard lifts an eyebrow at Fiona and the others, then asks,"I'm beginning to wonder whether you want the job or not... Look, the Roaming Death Clan took payment for a vastly expensive artifact and never delivered it! Smashed it in fact! Bad blood ever since! Even though those lying orcs claim WE'RE the aggressors. Then they shoved the Grand Dame's son's head under water after dumping him in the well! Drowned him to death! This is beyond mere competition!"

Albain raises his hand from behind Umien. "Truly villainous, I agree. So would it not be wise for the Grand Dame to present her accusations to the watch? Then she would not be seen in a bad light should this come to blows, correct? As far as we were told, the watch are unaware of this murder." he explains.

Umien widens her eyes in horror. She shakes her head. "Perhaps we can help bring some justice for this. The Watch surely doesn't *truly* understand, as you said. But it's like Lithaniel's parable of the two gardeners and the wyvern, you know? If the Roaming Death Clan keeps this up, soon enough there'll be open fighting, and the Watch will be left trying to put out the fires at great expense. And the city's governors will put that blame on their heads for allowing the situation to get out of control. I suspect the Watch could be made to help you."

The guard frowns for a long moment, and then just asks, point blank,"Why are you you talking to ME. I'm just a guard. My Grand Dame says jump, I jump."

Fiona blinks at this and gasps. No bluffing on this one, she is actually shocked and infact takes a small step closer to the elven gate, you know farther from the Orcs. “Does the watch know. I..mean murder is against the law right?” she asks the others in the group, “SO you agree we should speak with the Dame then?”

"Then we would speak with her. Take us to her." Ashlynn says, finally speaking more than a handful of words. There's a long pause in which she recalls that, in this situation, a basic show of manners may be appropriate.

"Please." she adds, thus.

The guard raises an eyebrow at this, now. "Oh. Well. You wanna speak with the Grand Dame? Okay. Fine. Hand over your weapons. You'll get 'em back when you leave. Why didn't you say so in the first place? 'Cause, I gotta tell you, you were THE chattiest hiring prospects I'd ever met. I wasn't planning on recommending you."

Katja looks at her hammer for a moment... and then looks back at the guard. She almost looks like a puppy who's had her favourite bone taken away and it isn't just being thrown to go fetch.

Albain hands over his dagger without a second thought and casually looks away from the guards. Of course there's that holstered dragonspitter he's ignored, as he looks innocently towards the manor.

Fiona doesn’t blink at the handing the weapons over, Of course, they were told no blood, so that would ensure the lack of blood started on their part. Her hands to her rapier, and then dagger and then even the whip and she starts to bind them together. “of course.” She hands the items over.

The elf guard and his companion shoot each other looks as they begin to accept weapons... And the more talkative one points at Albain's dragonspitter and makes a 'gimme' motion with his hand,"Weapons. All of them."

Albain sighs as he's found out. The dragonspitter is handed over with great reluctance. "I swear the entire world wishes to rob me of my arcane gifts." he grumbles.

Umien holds her rapier and her bow together in formal Temple weapon presentation style, with the grip of the rapier offered outward. "Certainly, but I would like to know your name first."

Ashlynn tosses down her sword, her hammer, her pointy-thing-on-a-stick, her knives and darts and... well, she's quite heavily armed, and it's all set down in a neat pile of sharp and blunt implements of battle without much of a fuss.

Yet, when it comes to the bow, she hesitates.

"I am a hunter. I live or die by my bow." she voices, frowning deeper than usual as she looks at the finely-crafted weapon in her hands - clearly quite reluctant to leave that one behind. She may not have even considered it a weapon at first, much as simply a part of who she is.

The guard nods to Umien at this point, accepting the weapons gently,"Talen Ustmyr, Silver Guard. Don't worry. These will be well-cared for." As for Ashlynn,"You're speaking to elves of arrows... We understand your reluctance. Which does not change the fact that without turning them over... You're not getting in."

It takes Ashlynn a long, LONG few moments to steel her resolve enough to very carefully set the bow down. The look in her eyes suggests there will be hell to pay if anything should happen to the weapon while she's gone. Jaw squared, she straightens and exhales sharply, her breath misting - it is done, regardless.

Constantin blows out his cheeks, unbelts his sword reverentially. "Honour demands that I threaten your life for the safety of this sword -- nevertheless, I understand the request." He also produces one, two, three, four, five dagger and a longbow.

Katja exhales slowly, ending in a sighing-ish noise. She pats her hammer affectionately before stepping back into line for the sake of getting into the place. If one looks closely they can almost see her mouthing 'I'll miss you' to it. Yeesh.

The guard dryly replies to Constantin,"Guarding demands that I disarm you or bar your entrance.... So... There." Still, the weapons are all carefully packed in the gate and settled in a very ornate box just inside. "Mind the hedge maze inside okay? Follow these directions..." He fishes out a piece of paper and hands it over,"Or we'll have to come and get you and that could get irritating."

Albain waits in line, still looking just as sour as before, and tapping his shoe impatiently as the others work through their own reluctance. He takes the paper, eager to get this over with, and begins to lead the way inwards.

Albain quizzically looks at the directions a few times during the journey, but still manages to bring everyone to the exit without any backtracking or dead-ends. "Defeated: one hedge maze." he declares to himself as he pockets the directions.

Constantin nods towards Albain. "Excellent work, my good man." A broad, secret smile to himself.

The doors to the mansion open automatically before Albain and his companions. Magic or artifice? An elven butler of some sort appears before them, looks the adventurers over, and sniffs. He disappears into the house a moment later, and reappears with five pairs of slippers, and a towel, which he lays on the ground,"Please change out of those awful shoes and then follow me. The Grand Dame awaits." He looks at Umien, and says,"You may retain your shoes."

Umien glances down at the five pairs and then looks back over her shoulder. She starts silently counting. Hmmm.

Constantin doesn't look offended. He doesn't. He doesn't. He takes off his boots, good mood spoiled, and puts on the slippers, looking like he's sucked on a lemon.

This... elicits a frown from Katja. Seriously? She just washed these boots -two weeks ago-. You'd think she was made of thing-washing or something. Grudgingly, though, she does switch- even if she glares at the butler-man pretty openly. First the hammer and now this!

Well. At least the slippers are comfy, even if they look ridiculous matched with armor.
Nodding in approval and thanks towards Albain for his navigation skills, Ashlynn gives a fresh frown - she has an inexhaustible supply - towards the butler, sliding it towards the slippers. If slippers could cringe, they probably would right about now. All these complications are very much souring her mood.

Still, no sense wasting time on trifles. The boots are discarded and she replaces them with the slippers.

Looking like a proper soldier has never been harder. The fancy things clash with her wardrobe something fierce.

Fiona looks at the slippers and counts then at the group. “I think you are allowed to keep your shoes.” she offers and moves to slip her boots off. It takes a moment, some hopping, and then PLOP! off comes her boot to reveal a bright pink sock with green polka dots on it. Soon the other one comes off, and the sock of the other foot, Bright yellow with blue clouds. What! socks were NOT made to match ever... that is why the dryer eats them. She moves to slip into the slippers and places her shoes just inside the door on the towel. “Ooh soft...” Fiona comments.

Umien kneels down and slips off her boots, deciding she'll go with her socks. "Oh, that's alright. They're a little noisy indoors." She sets her boots aside and stands back up.

Albain shrugs off the offense and changes out of his boots. They weren't bad boots by any stretch of the imagination, but this pales in comparison to losing his dragonspitter. "Do you plan on burning them after we return them?" he asks with an amused grin.

"As Miss wishes." This is the butler's response to Albain. Still, upon looking at Fiona's boots, he drawls to Albain,"That remains to be decided." He turns politely to gesture to the a walkway between neatly stacked shelves of the mansion/warehouse,"The Grand Dame is in her office, going over accounts. If you'll walk this way... Tea and scones will be provided at your leisure."

Katja looks left. Looks right. Looks at Umien. "... What's a scone?"

Constantin aside to Katja helpfully: "Food."

Fiona gives a glance down to her socks and then at the butler, “I didn’t know I was going to be taking my boots off.” she whispers defensively.

Umien looks aside at Katja and beams. "Oh, they're delicious." She spreads her hands to indicate the grand extent of their deliciousness.

The butler sniffs again,"I'm sure, Miss." He turns and begins to wend his way through the warehouse/mansion's shelves until he comes to a an office set in one wall. When it is opened, an elf who looks elderly even by elven standards sits upon a heavily cushioned chair before a massive, beautifully made desk that looks to have been grown from a living tree rather than carved. Wreathed in rich robes, it looks more like a study in a wealthy home rather than a warehouse office. So... Par the course,"Ah. You've come for some of Aerinae's excellent tea I suppose. I could tell the moment I saw the Silver Guard among you. Well, how many tons do you require then?"

Ashlynn had been ready to ask the same question Katja has voiced. With the answer provided, she contends to be silent and follow the butler to the office - walking just a little bit awkwardly with the unaccustomed-to footwear on her.

And, once they have come before the matron, she... remains momentarily silent, then, too. The Silver Guard is being spoken to, after all - she will not cut into the word of a paladin of Light.

Constantin's arms fold on his chest. "Well," he says snippily, "I guess that answers one question."

Albain glances over to Umien, awaiting the response of their Silver Guard companion. And then his eyes go wandering about the room, taking in all the details of grandeur and wealth that she has on display in her 'office', particularly anything that looks like it came from a far off land.

Umien glances aside at Constantin with a bit of uneasy acknowledgement. She has a bad feeling about this. She steps forward and bows deeply. It's a good thing she was brought up fancy. "I am sorry; we are on different business at the moment. My name is Umien Sukinari, of House Arcanum. I would like to help convince the Watch to intervene and assist your clan with the ... however they are able."

The woman actually seems PLEASED by this announcement,"Ooooh! Adventurers are you? Just what we need to turn the tide." Already the butler has disappeared and returned with little plates and cubs bearing scones and tea for each person. Though the tea service looks to have been designed by brain-damaged gnomes,"No Roaming Dead tea services in thise place! Okay, so, finish your tea, and then with your help, we can go thrash the Roaming Death Clan and restore honor and avenge my son! How exciting! Finally, some progress. This argument was beginning to drag on SOOO badly."

"That's... not why we're here," Katja admits, quietly putting the tea down and decidedly not eating/drinking any of it. "We actually wanted -you- to come with -us- for some talking."

Fiona swallows and hangs out near the back. She doesn’t really want to mess this up, but nods in agreement all the same. Of course at the mention of tea it dawns on her why they might be rivals. She gives a glance around the office attempting to take in the site of it all fully. She blinks at this and then looks around. “Actually Ma’am...” she says quietly. “We can’t help you fight them.” Fiona winces. “Partly because, your guards took our weapons, but other part is, we were ordered not to shed any blood, we have come to assist in peaceful negotiations. You know sit down with a third party, air your grievances, in this case possibly formally file charges against the offending parties..” she bites her lower lip. “I mean why kill your rivals when you can bring their criminal actions to light, and drive them out of business.” Oh boy does she hope that sounds reasonable to the woman.

Ashlynn completely neglects the tea and scones, focused quite intently on the task at hand. This is no time for snacks!

"You must accompany us to the Watch headquarters. If there has been a murder, it will be looked into, and the perpetrators will be brought to justice." Ashlynn (perhaps unfortunately) adds her no-beating-around-the-bush voice to the choir.

Albain can't speak, he has tea to sip and a scone to munch upon. After all, everyone else seems to have this well in hand at the moment. Though these tea sets are quite dreadful, aren't they? He lifts the cup and glances at it sidelong for a moment.

Constantin overcomes his snippiness with scones and tea. It also helps to shut him up and get over his snit.

The woman waves a hand dismissively,"Make peace with the filthy leathery skinned curs who stole our money and killed my son? The watch? No, no. It is far too late for that. And why should I listen to you? Still, it has ever been the way of my House to be civilized. Certainly, we as elves are more civilized than mere leather-backed curs. Fine. To show you our civlity, I shall offer you a battle... But not of arms... DEBATE and DRINK. The two occupations of civilized society. Should you best my Guard-Captain in a game of 'Words and Cups', I shall accompany you to 'negotiate'. Hah. As if those filthy curs would ever do something so civilized. Do you accept."

"Challenge accepted." Albain declares from behind the lot of you, having just finished his tea and scone. The gnomish cup of dubious design is discarded somewhere on a nearby table as he looks up again. "Civility it is."

Fiona said what she needed to say. Now, there is tea and scones to have. She takes them and samples. She sips lightly then looks at the cup. After a moment she blinks a few times after coming out of her scrutiny. “If that is the way this needs to be done.” She says quietly and then shrugs, “I can not help but really have the utmost respect for a business that supports the Gnome away from home Orphanage.” She holds up the tea cup to illustrate her point. "No blood will be shed correct? I really hate to be a stickler about our order but, you see, I really really kinda like that rule."

Ashlynn gives Umien the sort of look a soldier would give their superior. Should you lead into battle, that look says, I will follow.

Even if the battle is... unconventional.

It seems that the weighty decision rests on Umien's shoulders, far as Ashlynn is concerned.

Umien laughs. "Sure! That sounds like fun." She sips some tea. "It's not so much a matter of negotiation. The Watch has a stake in this. They can, I think, be made to do the right thing."

The Guard Captain, a tall and (for an elf) burly man, he draws up a chair, even as the butler shows up with chairs for each of the heroes. The Grand Dame claps her head excitedly,"Druzyly! My champion! Oh, I shall join in as well!" She has the butler move her chair without getting up, and she joins Druzyly's side,"Druzyly will demonstrate!" The butler, pulling out a table, sets a wine glass before each 'contestant' and then tips wine from a bottle into each glass. Then the guard captain, Druzyly lifts his glass,"Oruchs... are foul uncivilized beasts who settle their differences with muscles and do not understand the value of the truely honorable. Discourse. Therefore, arrows and elvish steel are the only language these brutes will respond to." And then he drains the cup and sets it down, even as the butler moves to reveal it. "Now you."

Albain lifts up the offered glass, gazing into its ruby depths before speaking his own argument. "Judging the character of another culture through only the merits of one's own blinds the observer to the nuances and intricacies of that culture. All too often we casually dismiss because it is easy and convenient, when truly understanding another is difficult and taxing. Understanding more than one point of view is the product of an elightened and civilized mind." he declares before taking his drink.

Fiona blinks at this, “okay make your case, drink and so forth.” She nods slowly. Picking up the cup she frowns, “What if you hit one of your customers in such battle.” Fiona studies the cup slowly, “What good would business be if your customers are afraid that you will accidently kill them as they try to come to your door? Bloodshed will only lead to the loss of profit, Loss of profit only leads to bankruptcy, bankruptcy leads to the poor house, the poor house leads to dealing with miss matched socks” She nods slowly. “Don’t fight with Oruchs, you will just have to deal with have miss matched socks.”

Umien laughs. "But, I mean, aren't these sorts of 'negotiations' really all ABOUT arrows and steel? It's not a summer poetry contest."

Katja looks down at the wine for a moment. Not her favourite but... she takes it up. "So, you are supposed to be much more civilized and such. But you seem pretty eager to go fight them even though you say -they're- the fightmongers. Why not 'prove' your civility by, you know. Talking civilly." And down goes the wine.

Ashlynn stares at the glass set before her, eyes narrowing as if she were gazing upon some sort of demon.

And in her eyes, it very well might be. Ashlynn has never found a friend in alcohol, and isn't about to start... but one must make difficult sacrifices when one strives to bring peace and order.

"It is not your place to exact this justice. You may yet find common ground. Let the Watch mediate." she offers her own simple words, and grasps the glass in the entirely uncouth manner of someone who has -no idea whatsoever- how to hold a wineglass. Said wineglass is then tipped back - down the hatch with the contents, and up with the expression of disgust at the taste.

"You know," he opines, as he sips the wine, gesturing with the goblet, "I think that we're shining beacons of civility, they are vile pieces of savage shit routine is just a cover for intellectual laziness." He downs his drink.

The guard captain lifts his glass,"Aaaah, but while some might call it laziness or 'street justice'... These are matters of honor and family... And where such brutish thugs and curs are concerned, they reason is a tool for dreamers and hopefuls. Aye, perhaps some of you grasp the full measure of civility, but not the full measure of the situation itself. For these are orcs, truly one of the most warlike peoples on the planet." And he drains his cup, stifling a burp. The Grand Dame meanwhile expounds,"Frankly, it is nothing short of civility on our part that allows us to coexist with such a dangerous and barbarous people." Nothing like good ol'-fashioned racism. She drains her cup like a pro and slams it down, though, leaving the butler to refill it.

Albain appears to be feeling the effects of the wine, but takes a shot at the next glass regardless. "In all my time spent sailing to distant shores, one thing remained constant; everyone else sees everyone else as being inferior somehow... in some way. We're all the same, that way." he concludes, with a little less forcefulness and clarity than his first statement. He also needs to take a seat, as his feet don't quite comply with his request to stay standing. And down goes the wine.

Fiona listens to the others as her glass is refilled. “If you are truly civil, then you know that the best way to defeat your enemies is by using the law, and from what has been said you have all of the law on your side.” Fiona thinks for a moment, “Well, perhaps, but look at it this way. If you fight them, you will be seen as thugs as much as they are seen as Thugs, but if you talk with them, You will be seen as the great, wonderful elves that overcame the barbaric savagery of the orcs, and trained them to be civil.”She downs her drink and offers out the glass for another go.

Umien is starting to get a little tipsy. She gets even chattier than usual. The alcohol also makes her a bit more direct. She doesn't resist this change too much. "If the Watch for some reason decides not to help, then fine, you can decide if you want to risk just going in there yourselves and killing everybody, but, and, hey, this is strong stuff, where's it from? And yeah sure I'll have another." She knocks it back quite merrily, while munching on a scone.

Katja nods a little as she looks at her companions- then back to the captain and the lady. "Little else for me to say- save that you're apparently clinging so hard to this you're willing to allow this... thing," she picks up one of the godawful teacups. "Into your otherwise beautiful office just to prove a silly point that -nobody cares about-." And drink!

"All creatures under the Hunter's watchful gaze that do not defy His laws deserve some respect. It is understandable that you are wary - but you are called to have the courage to offer peace. That courage can be greater than the courage it takes to fight." Whether it's the drink that's loosened Ashlynn's tongue, the woman's taken to actually speaking full sentences, in a strong voice filled with conviction (if perhaps rusty for lack of use).

Once again, the refilled glass is taken in an awkward, if steely grip, and sloshed down with a look on her face that would have one think she's drinking vinegar, not fine wine.

Constantin waits for the refill. "Honor and family? I've seen the high table and the gutter both -- there is very little difference in people's behaviour. No matter the costume others force them to wear. It's easy to play up the differences so there's something to fight about -- and I should know, I make good money doing that dirty work -- but it takes work to talk it through like civilized folk." Work, real work, that involves drinking.

"You two remind me of a noble who once sailed with my uncle. He wanted to see the world, but only when it wasn't dirty, or dusty, or might get him sweaty from a vigorous walk. He balked at touching an old copper bracelet from an ancient long dead people because a spider had walked over it. It was really quite sad." Albain rambles on, obviously not holding his own against the wine. "You're quite sad." he declares, levelling an accusatory finger before draining his new glass.

"Look, I may cede that tempers are running high, but we are ELVES. We do not make hasty decisions. The Silver Guard over there is witness to this! Honor and Family is a matter especially dear to elves! How could such short-lived orcs say such things! And after selling off our priceless artifact and stealing our money! They are plagues on this land, and deserve such as they have gotten and will get from us!" The guard Captain is swaying a bit now on his seat, his arguments a bit less... coherent. And the Grand dame,"You've convinced me! This IS good wine! I will have some more." She pounds a glass. Then pounds another glass. And then another.

Fiona watches everyone go another round and then just says it, “You..” she points to the woman, “Are afraid. You are afraid you will be seen as weak.” She frowns and nods, “Because your son was killed, and you want to taste the blood of the...” she uses a word that is NOT lady like at all to describe someone, “who killed him.” She nods simply at the woman. “I don’t blame you, But what better way to stick it to them, then watch him hang, publically, because of the hurt they did to your son. And bringing out that they stole your money, labels them as thieves, who wants to do business with thieves.” She points out and then downs her wine.

Umien laughs. "Look, are we even really debating this anymore, or are we just all getting drunk? Because I'm certainly getting drunk. Ha! But really, I haven't heard a cogent argument against talking to the Watch other than that you don't have to. So fine, you don't have to. But you should." She knocks back another.

"... Drunk? Can none of you hold your drink?" Katja questions almost incredulously. She shakes her head a little. "Look, just come back and talk to the Watch, and we can put this all behind. Well. Sober up, and -then- come talk to the watch. But no fighting, or I suspect the Watch might side with the orcs because of -you- being the aggressors."

Katja also glugs

Ashlynn tips her head sideways at the elf, giving him a questioning - and frightfully clear - look. "A decision to go to war without seeking a peaceful resolution first seems quite hasty to me. The losses this action would bring far outweight any possible gains. You may yet find gains in negotiation, for yourself and for others."

What, another glass? She was hoping she was DONE with that torment! Ashlynn's jaw juts, and with the determination befitting a soldier, she faces yet another demon-in-a-glass, downing it and giving a dry, pained cough following.

"Sweet Blue Rose's tears of compassion! Who's the long-lived race around here and who's the petulant toddler-species?!" He slams his wine. "More wine!"

The guard captain, meanwhile manages to stand, a frothy rage upon his lips, only to fall over unconscious the next moment. One drink too many. He curls up in the corner, sucking on his thumb. The old elven dowager, meanwhile stands up, after a long drink, cup being filled by her butler yet again even as she stands,"I'll get that little orcish slut for running off with my son! I'll go to her father and tell him what a little trollop she's been! And a murder too! Take me to the watch! IIIII... am filing a complaint." She drains her cup, then gestures for the butler to refill it before marching for the door. Without her shoes on.

Fiona is drunk. Its not that she is a bad drunk. Just a warm drunk, she moves to undo the top few buttons and starts to fan herself. “Oh this is some good wines.” she offers speaking in cursive. A small hiccup gives her a pause. “Alright.” Fiona holds up a finger, “Lets go...” she offers and moves to stand up but then almost falls over, “Or At least go to get my shoes.” She says and downs her drink. “I like these slippers by the way.”

Umien giggles over her wine glass. "Ooookay, that's enough for now. C'mon, human friends, you heard her."

Katja, on the other hand, looks around the group... looks to the other mostly-not-drunk person, Ashlynn. "Should we just... toss them over our shoulders?"

Constantin glances towards the butler. "We're going to need our boots, good sir!" He straightens up, shoots his sleeves. "So. Who needs a horsey ride?"

Ashlynn stands up slowly. She's quite unused to the feeling of insects fluttering inside her skull. She may not be really all that drunk, but her body just couldn't fully purge that last glass. Shaking her head to clear the muddy sensation (it does nothing), she answers Katja's question practically and wordlessly - by walking over to Albain and lifting him as if he were a wounded soldier in need of assistance and beginning the slow trek back out of the accursed manor-warehouse.

The Grand Dame is trying to put her fancy fur coat on. Which seems to involve trying to slip into an owlbear skin being used as a rug. It's not going well.

Katja nods as Ashlynn does her thing, and looks at the others... she proceeds to go to pick up Fiona over one shoulder. And then Umien over the other assuming all works out as she means it to. They're only little, after all. "Someone get her coat on her?" she asks about the Dame.

"Darling!" Constantin sweeps up the rug, and offers it to the Grand Dame. "This year's fashion drapes it differently -- here, let me show you!"

Fiona standsup and starts to head towards the door. “Alright..” she stops and looks at the coat of the woman, “Oh that is...Not a coat.” she states and starts to head out of the room. “ And then she is picked up and lets out a big giggle. “I am being carried!” Fiona announces!

Umien squirms and resists the lift-up. "Oh, that's okay, I'm okay, haha, just a little too much to drink." She steps back and glances around the room.

Katja is perfectly fine to let Umien go free, 'tis true.

"We will... need help with the maze." Ashlynn tells the butler as the group prepares haphazardly for their departure. Her eyes do not QUITE go crosseyed looking at the pointy-eared man, but it's a close thing. At the very least, she is not drunk enough to not be able to put her boots back on. There's a BIT of hopping.

Oddly, getting out of the maze is easier when drunk. Fancy that. The processional is loud, drunken, and generally announced by bad behavior on the Grand Dame's part. Such as loud singing and swearing in elvish. Indeed, all the way, the poor beleagured butler is busy refilling her cup dutifully. And The darned woman won't stop flirting with Constantin after he gets the rug wrapped on her properly. Somewhere along the way, the procession draws a few dockworkers and sailors who are also drunk.... which devolves into bawdy drinking songs sung in yrch. The Grand Dame, not surprisingly, seems to be leading the most bawdy of the songs. When they reach the Watch office, she holds her hand out to the side, as if expecting someone to take her glass from her (it just drops and shatters on the floor), then gathers her poise, and wanders into the Watch Commanders office. Apparently the other group sent to the orcish delegation met with some success, because behind the door one can hear the loud swears of both elven and orcish voices raised in anger at each other![[Category:Logs]]

Mercantile Obligation (Porocora DM)

2012-12-12T02:51:51Z

Fiona: Created page with "Title: Mercantile Obligation Players:Katja, Ashlynn, Albain, Fiona Summary:A pair of merchants vie for the services of mercenaries to resolve their dispute. What caused it? -..."

Title: Mercantile Obligation
Players:Katja, Ashlynn, Albain, Fiona
Summary:A pair of merchants vie for the services of mercenaries to resolve their dispute. What caused it?

-- Log --

He's way out of his depth. A young man, a minor official among the guards has made contact with the guild, which sent you all along to a place on the far side of the docks. He's wringing his hands already as he meets his 'adventurers made to order',"Okay. So... listen... We're looking at possible war here if you guys don't act fast. Nobody's whipped out their weapons or anything, but they HAVE holed up in their compound. An Elvish merchanter Clan, Aerimae, has drawn lines in the sand and their crying for the blood of the Orcish Roaming Death Clan... Needless to say, if this spills over into the streets, it could be bad... I need you to bring Aerimae's matriarch, Saerina to us for negotiations to end this before it starts!" He makes a flipping motion with his hands, and holds out some papers,"Directions to their compound. Um... we don't usually hire adventurers for this sort of thing, but we're not really equipped or trained for it... So... Go do what you people do. And for the Gods' sakes, no blood, if at all possible! This is a tense situation! Now 'shoo-shoo-shoo!"

Ashlynn - who has been, as is her way, frowning the entire time - lifts a hand as if to protest the spill of words from the Watch official. Her mouth opens, and for a moment, she looks much like an oversized, beached fish... and then, as she completely and utterly fails to find the proper words, it closes, the hand lowers, and the frown deepens.

"What is this... Orcish Roaming Death Clan?" she manages after a long moment. If they're a rival merchant house, well - they chose a -killer- name for themselves. Get it? ... Never mind.

Fiona is taken back with how fast the man addresses the situation after the group's arrival. No introductions, no pleasantries. No pastries. Just, here is your mission and go! “Oh...kay..” She offers and looks at the others.Taking the papers from the man before she starts to read the directions. The lack of blood brings a few more blinks to the woman’s eyes as she looks up from the papers and then back down. “Who names themselves death clan?”

Katja's head just kind of... slowly... tilted more and more as the deluge of -words- came out of the merchant. But then, she shrugged, and looked at the map for a few moments. "Orcs, I guess. They seem prone to names like that or worse."

"The Roaming Death Clan! A merchant house. Purveyors of the finest weapons and armor, factors and agents for deadly mercenaries, and proprietors of the finest elegant china and decorative teaspoons bar none!" A pause. "I own their entire Princess Alexandria tea service." He sniffs and makes a shooing motion. As if that could move mighty adventurers,"Quickly now! Er... Huh. Yes. I suppose it is rather intimidating. I assumed that was the point. Onwards now, to Clan Aerimae's compound!"

"Selecting Alexandria's mercenaries for a tense diplomatic situation?" Albain begins after listening to that rambling explanation. There's a pause there as he sizes up the guardsman for a moment. "You are a braver man than I. Well then, shall we convince an elven lady to come sup tea with the roaming bringers of deadly teaspoons?" he asks with an amused grin of the others.

The man taps her chin in thought,"Well... mostly we chose you because... you know... we don't have to pay death benefits if something goes wrong. ALSO, if you piss them off, then it's not our faul- I mean plausible deniability." He tries to look very stern. "Er... what was I on about?"

"Being cowardly, I guess," Katja says with enough good cheer, grinning at the little fellow. She shakes her head, and looks to the others. "Maybe we should just go and leave this one to quiver for a while yet."

“Teaspoons..” Fiona looks at the others and motions, “you have their entire collection of teaspoons.” She looks at the guard as if one would look like they just mentioned that they owned five hundred pairs of high heels, and they were not female. “Okay.” She says and looks at the others. Apparently poker is not a game that Fiona is able to play, as her face says it all, -He has teaspoons...the princess collection...- “I am going to start having contracts.” She says as she walks away, “If I die in the line of duty to the city guard, they pay the death benefits.” Of course who would get those benefits she hasn’t found yet. “If I die from teaspoons..” Fiona looks back at the guard and then huffs lightly before going onwards towards the elvish house.

The man stamps his foot and claims,"There's nothing wrong with having an appreciation for fine tea services!" Now he's just fuming, having apparently forgotten the job entirely.

Ashlynn continues frowning at absolutely nothing - mayhaps the air particles offend her. Still, it's obvious she's still working on parsing the many, MANY words offered.

"We shall do our best to restore order." she promises the official eventually.

There is absolutely no indication she finds any of this strange at all, from the teaspoons to the bloodthirsty elves. The archer has either a rare blessing, or a terrible curse, when it comes to her knowledge of the world - or, rather, lack thereof.

The 'compound' is a clean, well-kept warehouse that looks more like a manor than a place to store goods. A high stone wall, wrought iron gate, with guards on the parapets, and decorative (one can assume) gargoyles lining the roof, and a clean lawn with a hedge maze of all things... It belongs more in the noble quarter by the looks of it, rather than dockside. Unslumbering elves, unsurprisingly, also guard the gate in with their ornate weapons. If elves are ever bored, these guys look like prime candidates.

"I don't suppose any of you fine ladies are fluent in Elvish?" Albain asks with a lopsided smile as he spies the manor before them. "Establishing a good impression might be best for this line of work. Oh, and while we're on that topic; do any of you fine ladies knowing anything about trade negotiations and diplomacy?" he adds.

The guards are too busy glaring across the street at another warehouse, this one guarded by orcs who are glaring back, to really pay the people arriving much attention just this moment.

'Just this,' Katja signs out in Handspeech briefly, before adding; "No elvish. Or... manners, let alone diplomacy," she admits, shaking her head and chuckling. "Why they picked me for this bit, have no idea. Unless I'm just here to be big and look scary."

"I do not speak the language, nor was I trained in negotiation. I am a warrior. Servant to the Hunter." Ashlynn replies to Albain quite earnestly - even though it takes her a good few moments to realize he is, in fact, speaking to her as well. 'Fine lady' she is not, clearly - or at least doesn't consider herself one.

Fiona shakes her head slowly, “Nope.” she says quietly, “If they were dragons...” she shrugs and looks up at the manor, “This is a very nice warehouse...” Swallowing lightly and then pursing her lips together. “I am not very diplomatic to begin with..”

One of the elves hurls an insult in elvish at the Orc, whom, by his appearance, does not 'get it'.

Umien nibbles uneasily on some minty candy, wrapped up in slippery wax paper, as she walks down the street. Defuse hostilities. Right. She came to this city to escape disgrace back home, and now she might end up in a swordfight with Clan Aerimae. That is, if she can find the place. She's cheering up as she rehearses her "I got lost" explanation in her head, until she hears shouting in Elven and realizes she's become unlost. She steadies herself and approaches the commotion, crunching on the last of her candy.

Albain idly twiddles his fingers as he listens to the replies and glances back to the Elvish manor. "So our prospects in this endeavour are not looking too good. No speakers of the Elven tongue, no diplomats... I'll settle for a crook with a charming smile? No?" he asks.

Fiona frowns at the sound of candy crunching. Turning and spotting an elf, the Tsurian looks back to Albain, “Well, we can kick in the door, Grab the woman, Toss a bag over her head and pray we make it past three steps out...” she offers, “I like this idea. Someone tell me its bad.”

Umien puts on her most disarming, cheeriest, unassuming smile. ~Hiiiiiii!~ she calls out with a singsong trill, in city-accented Elven. She even waves. ~I'm so terribly sorry I wasn't here earlier.~

Ashlynn turns towards Fiona and proceeds to glare with an intensity that, if it produced heat or energy, would probably melt a rock.

"It is a bad idea." she confirms. Or, at least, Ashlynn thinks so.

"The matriarch will surely see reason." she says, looking over at the gate. Sure she will. Ashlynn has some skewed perceptions of how negotiations may work.

One of the elves takes notice of Fiona at this point,"I'm going to assume you're joking since you can't possibly be so stupid as to say that in front of us-" Then there's an elf talking, and their attitude instantly improves, ~Oh! Hello there! Sorry that this fine day is being soiled by the dung-scent of the orcs who took up residence there recently.~

A pause from Katja as she looks around at these sudden changes in situation. "We have an elf with us?" she questions rather lamely, looking from Umien to the guard ones. "Guess that helps... seem better at this than us anyways."

Fiona nods at this, “See.” She states and motions to Ashlynn, “always one that keeps my odd idea’s in check.” She looks back to Umien and then raises an eyebrow, “Of course I am joking.” Her brow knots. “What fool would say their entire plan, including death, in front of those that might be dealing out said death.” Looking to the way of the dung scented orcs she nods slowly to something.Apparently she has decided just to chew on the foot she has inserted into her mouth for a while.

The elf responds to Fiona dryly,"Adventurers."

~Well, it's a hazard of the city, you know? Haha. Looks like it'll be a lovely, cool night, though.~ Umien laughs and sets a hand gently on Ashlynn's shoulder by way of greeting. She switches to Tradespeak. "Nice to see you again, Ashlynn." She turns to the elves and bows a brief little merchant bow plus about fifteen degrees of politeness and refinement. ~I am Umien Sukinari of House Arcanum and the Silver Guard. I was asked to come here and look into this trouble. I hope I can be of service.~

Albain blinks at Katja and then back at the Umien who just arrived. "We do? She hasn't said a word of Common I understand. For all we know she's a customer." he replies back, until Umien greets Ashlynn with words he can understand. "Uh, nevermind." he mumbles, then raises his voice to the guards. "We're all with her!" he declares.

"Silver Guard." Ashlynn greets Umien, dipping her head respectfully to go with the words. Clearly, she is familiar with the other woman. "Are you here to aid our endeavors?" she asks of her next. Clearly, she's in the same boat as Albain, and does not understand a single word the pointy-ears are exchanging.

The guard frowns a little bit at something Umien says, as if it should be interesting to them for... some reason,"So... Ah... Miss Sukinari... I feel like I've heard that name somewhere... Anyway, Miss Sukinari, if you're looking for a guardsman job, we could certainly use more hands. You and your friends look pretty capable. We've got a stringent interview process. Trials of wit and mental fortitude and the like. If you want to interview with Aerimae's Grand Dame, Saerina, you're going to have to get through the trials, make it to the inner chambers."

Umien purses her lips and pauses there a moment. ~I've heard that the Roaming Death Clan has been giving you trouble.~ She glances at Ashlynn and nods. "Just a moment." Her attention returns to the guard. ~Has the Watch contacted you yet?~

Albain glances at Ashlynn with this expression of 'You know her right?', punctuated by a few subtle nods and glances in the direction of Umien to get the point across.

The guard frowns and thumbs his nose,"This is private merchant business, Ma'am. None of the watch's business. Oh, I know they want us to put our differences aside, but they don't UNDERSTAND."

Fiona is busy chewing on some of the leather sole of her shoe. Mmm Leather flavored dumb! When the words start in tradespeak she perks up and then holds up a finger. “Ah, but..” she offers, “Wouldn’t it be good for business for the ah..” she looks around and then starts to motion to the entire area. “Feel of the area of comfort for your customers.” Fiona stops and looks at the guard, “I mean if people think that a fight is going to break out, they are going to close up, Move away quickly, then both business suffers...” She nods, “Peace..its good for business wouldn’t you say?”

Ashlynn takes a few moments, looking at Albain with mild puzzlement - as if worried whether he might have developed a sudden tic indicative of some sort of seizure. When the point finally sinks in, she dips her head forward again in a confirmative nod.

"Does your company make teaspoons too?" Katja questions innocently enough. "Are they competition, is problem?" She blinks a few times. Business- not her strong suit. Or why people would just -dislike- someone for what seems to be no reason! Gosh.

The guard lifts an eyebrow at Fiona and the others, then asks,"I'm beginning to wonder whether you want the job or not... Look, the Roaming Death Clan took payment for a vastly expensive artifact and never delivered it! Smashed it in fact! Bad blood ever since! Even though those lying orcs claim WE'RE the aggressors. Then they shoved the Grand Dame's son's head under water after dumping him in the well! Drowned him to death! This is beyond mere competition!"

Albain raises his hand from behind Umien. "Truly villainous, I agree. So would it not be wise for the Grand Dame to present her accusations to the watch? Then she would not be seen in a bad light should this come to blows, correct? As far as we were told, the watch are unaware of this murder." he explains.

Umien widens her eyes in horror. She shakes her head. "Perhaps we can help bring some justice for this. The Watch surely doesn't *truly* understand, as you said. But it's like Lithaniel's parable of the two gardeners and the wyvern, you know? If the Roaming Death Clan keeps this up, soon enough there'll be open fighting, and the Watch will be left trying to put out the fires at great expense. And the city's governors will put that blame on their heads for allowing the situation to get out of control. I suspect the Watch could be made to help you."

The guard frowns for a long moment, and then just asks, point blank,"Why are you you talking to ME. I'm just a guard. My Grand Dame says jump, I jump."

Fiona blinks at this and gasps. No bluffing on this one, she is actually shocked and infact takes a small step closer to the elven gate, you know farther from the Orcs. “Does the watch know. I..mean murder is against the law right?” she asks the others in the group, “SO you agree we should speak with the Dame then?”

"Then we would speak with her. Take us to her." Ashlynn says, finally speaking more than a handful of words. There's a long pause in which she recalls that, in this situation, a basic show of manners may be appropriate.

"Please." she adds, thus.

The guard raises an eyebrow at this, now. "Oh. Well. You wanna speak with the Grand Dame? Okay. Fine. Hand over your weapons. You'll get 'em back when you leave. Why didn't you say so in the first place? 'Cause, I gotta tell you, you were THE chattiest hiring prospects I'd ever met. I wasn't planning on recommending you."

Katja looks at her hammer for a moment... and then looks back at the guard. She almost looks like a puppy who's had her favourite bone taken away and it isn't just being thrown to go fetch.

Albain hands over his dagger without a second thought and casually looks away from the guards. Of course there's that holstered dragonspitter he's ignored, as he looks innocently towards the manor.

Fiona doesn’t blink at the handing the weapons over, Of course, they were told no blood, so that would ensure the lack of blood started on their part. Her hands to her rapier, and then dagger and then even the whip and she starts to bind them together. “of course.” She hands the items over.

The elf guard and his companion shoot each other looks as they begin to accept weapons... And the more talkative one points at Albain's dragonspitter and makes a 'gimme' motion with his hand,"Weapons. All of them."

Albain sighs as he's found out. The dragonspitter is handed over with great reluctance. "I swear the entire world wishes to rob me of my arcane gifts." he grumbles.

Umien holds her rapier and her bow together in formal Temple weapon presentation style, with the grip of the rapier offered outward. "Certainly, but I would like to know your name first."

Ashlynn tosses down her sword, her hammer, her pointy-thing-on-a-stick, her knives and darts and... well, she's quite heavily armed, and it's all set down in a neat pile of sharp and blunt implements of battle without much of a fuss.

Yet, when it comes to the bow, she hesitates.

"I am a hunter. I live or die by my bow." she voices, frowning deeper than usual as she looks at the finely-crafted weapon in her hands - clearly quite reluctant to leave that one behind. She may not have even considered it a weapon at first, much as simply a part of who she is.

The guard nods to Umien at this point, accepting the weapons gently,"Talen Ustmyr, Silver Guard. Don't worry. These will be well-cared for." As for Ashlynn,"You're speaking to elves of arrows... We understand your reluctance. Which does not change the fact that without turning them over... You're not getting in."

It takes Ashlynn a long, LONG few moments to steel her resolve enough to very carefully set the bow down. The look in her eyes suggests there will be hell to pay if anything should happen to the weapon while she's gone. Jaw squared, she straightens and exhales sharply, her breath misting - it is done, regardless.

Constantin blows out his cheeks, unbelts his sword reverentially. "Honour demands that I threaten your life for the safety of this sword -- nevertheless, I understand the request." He also produces one, two, three, four, five dagger and a longbow.

Katja exhales slowly, ending in a sighing-ish noise. She pats her hammer affectionately before stepping back into line for the sake of getting into the place. If one looks closely they can almost see her mouthing 'I'll miss you' to it. Yeesh.

The guard dryly replies to Constantin,"Guarding demands that I disarm you or bar your entrance.... So... There." Still, the weapons are all carefully packed in the gate and settled in a very ornate box just inside. "Mind the hedge maze inside okay? Follow these directions..." He fishes out a piece of paper and hands it over,"Or we'll have to come and get you and that could get irritating."

Albain waits in line, still looking just as sour as before, and tapping his shoe impatiently as the others work through their own reluctance. He takes the paper, eager to get this over with, and begins to lead the way inwards.

Albain quizzically looks at the directions a few times during the journey, but still manages to bring everyone to the exit without any backtracking or dead-ends. "Defeated: one hedge maze." he declares to himself as he pockets the directions.

Constantin nods towards Albain. "Excellent work, my good man." A broad, secret smile to himself.

The doors to the mansion open automatically before Albain and his companions. Magic or artifice? An elven butler of some sort appears before them, looks the adventurers over, and sniffs. He disappears into the house a moment later, and reappears with five pairs of slippers, and a towel, which he lays on the ground,"Please change out of those awful shoes and then follow me. The Grand Dame awaits." He looks at Umien, and says,"You may retain your shoes."

Umien glances down at the five pairs and then looks back over her shoulder. She starts silently counting. Hmmm.

Constantin doesn't look offended. He doesn't. He doesn't. He takes off his boots, good mood spoiled, and puts on the slippers, looking like he's sucked on a lemon.

This... elicits a frown from Katja. Seriously? She just washed these boots -two weeks ago-. You'd think she was made of thing-washing or something. Grudgingly, though, she does switch- even if she glares at the butler-man pretty openly. First the hammer and now this!

Well. At least the slippers are comfy, even if they look ridiculous matched with armor.
Nodding in approval and thanks towards Albain for his navigation skills, Ashlynn gives a fresh frown - she has an inexhaustible supply - towards the butler, sliding it towards the slippers. If slippers could cringe, they probably would right about now. All these complications are very much souring her mood.

Still, no sense wasting time on trifles. The boots are discarded and she replaces them with the slippers.

Looking like a proper soldier has never been harder. The fancy things clash with her wardrobe something fierce.

Fiona looks at the slippers and counts then at the group. “I think you are allowed to keep your shoes.” she offers and moves to slip her boots off. It takes a moment, some hopping, and then PLOP! off comes her boot to reveal a bright pink sock with green polka dots on it. Soon the other one comes off, and the sock of the other foot, Bright yellow with blue clouds. What! socks were NOT made to match ever... that is why the dryer eats them. She moves to slip into the slippers and places her shoes just inside the door on the towel. “Ooh soft...” Fiona comments.

Umien kneels down and slips off her boots, deciding she'll go with her socks. "Oh, that's alright. They're a little noisy indoors." She sets her boots aside and stands back up.

Albain shrugs off the offense and changes out of his boots. They weren't bad boots by any stretch of the imagination, but this pales in comparison to losing his dragonspitter. "Do you plan on burning them after we return them?" he asks with an amused grin.

"As Miss wishes." This is the butler's response to Albain. Still, upon looking at Fiona's boots, he drawls to Albain,"That remains to be decided." He turns politely to gesture to the a walkway between neatly stacked shelves of the mansion/warehouse,"The Grand Dame is in her office, going over accounts. If you'll walk this way... Tea and scones will be provided at your leisure."

Katja looks left. Looks right. Looks at Umien. "... What's a scone?"

Constantin aside to Katja helpfully: "Food."

Fiona gives a glance down to her socks and then at the butler, “I didn’t know I was going to be taking my boots off.” she whispers defensively.

Umien looks aside at Katja and beams. "Oh, they're delicious." She spreads her hands to indicate the grand extent of their deliciousness.

The butler sniffs again,"I'm sure, Miss." He turns and begins to wend his way through the warehouse/mansion's shelves until he comes to a an office set in one wall. When it is opened, an elf who looks elderly even by elven standards sits upon a heavily cushioned chair before a massive, beautifully made desk that looks to have been grown from a living tree rather than carved. Wreathed in rich robes, it looks more like a study in a wealthy home rather than a warehouse office. So... Par the course,"Ah. You've come for some of Aerinae's excellent tea I suppose. I could tell the moment I saw the Silver Guard among you. Well, how many tons do you require then?"

Ashlynn had been ready to ask the same question Katja has voiced. With the answer provided, she contends to be silent and follow the butler to the office - walking just a little bit awkwardly with the unaccustomed-to footwear on her.

And, once they have come before the matron, she... remains momentarily silent, then, too. The Silver Guard is being spoken to, after all - she will not cut into the word of a paladin of Light.

Constantin's arms fold on his chest. "Well," he says snippily, "I guess that answers one question."

Albain glances over to Umien, awaiting the response of their Silver Guard companion. And then his eyes go wandering about the room, taking in all the details of grandeur and wealth that she has on display in her 'office', particularly anything that looks like it came from a far off land.

Umien glances aside at Constantin with a bit of uneasy acknowledgement. She has a bad feeling about this. She steps forward and bows deeply. It's a good thing she was brought up fancy. "I am sorry; we are on different business at the moment. My name is Umien Sukinari, of House Arcanum. I would like to help convince the Watch to intervene and assist your clan with the ... however they are able."

The woman actually seems PLEASED by this announcement,"Ooooh! Adventurers are you? Just what we need to turn the tide." Already the butler has disappeared and returned with little plates and cubs bearing scones and tea for each person. Though the tea service looks to have been designed by brain-damaged gnomes,"No Roaming Dead tea services in thise place! Okay, so, finish your tea, and then with your help, we can go thrash the Roaming Death Clan and restore honor and avenge my son! How exciting! Finally, some progress. This argument was beginning to drag on SOOO badly."

"That's... not why we're here," Katja admits, quietly putting the tea down and decidedly not eating/drinking any of it. "We actually wanted -you- to come with -us- for some talking."

Fiona swallows and hangs out near the back. She doesn’t really want to mess this up, but nods in agreement all the same. Of course at the mention of tea it dawns on her why they might be rivals. She gives a glance around the office attempting to take in the site of it all fully. She blinks at this and then looks around. “Actually Ma’am...” she says quietly. “We can’t help you fight them.” Fiona winces. “Partly because, your guards took our weapons, but other part is, we were ordered not to shed any blood, we have come to assist in peaceful negotiations. You know sit down with a third party, air your grievances, in this case possibly formally file charges against the offending parties..” she bites her lower lip. “I mean why kill your rivals when you can bring their criminal actions to light, and drive them out of business.” Oh boy does she hope that sounds reasonable to the woman.

Ashlynn completely neglects the tea and scones, focused quite intently on the task at hand. This is no time for snacks!

"You must accompany us to the Watch headquarters. If there has been a murder, it will be looked into, and the perpetrators will be brought to justice." Ashlynn (perhaps unfortunately) adds her no-beating-around-the-bush voice to the choir.

Albain can't speak, he has tea to sip and a scone to munch upon. After all, everyone else seems to have this well in hand at the moment. Though these tea sets are quite dreadful, aren't they? He lifts the cup and glances at it sidelong for a moment.

Constantin overcomes his snippiness with scones and tea. It also helps to shut him up and get over his snit.

The woman waves a hand dismissively,"Make peace with the filthy leathery skinned curs who stole our money and killed my son? The watch? No, no. It is far too late for that. And why should I listen to you? Still, it has ever been the way of my House to be civilized. Certainly, we as elves are more civilized than mere leather-backed curs. Fine. To show you our civlity, I shall offer you a battle... But not of arms... DEBATE and DRINK. The two occupations of civilized society. Should you best my Guard-Captain in a game of 'Words and Cups', I shall accompany you to 'negotiate'. Hah. As if those filthy curs would ever do something so civilized. Do you accept."

"Challenge accepted." Albain declares from behind the lot of you, having just finished his tea and scone. The gnomish cup of dubious design is discarded somewhere on a nearby table as he looks up again. "Civility it is."

Fiona said what she needed to say. Now, there is tea and scones to have. She takes them and samples. She sips lightly then looks at the cup. After a moment she blinks a few times after coming out of her scrutiny. “If that is the way this needs to be done.” She says quietly and then shrugs, “I can not help but really have the utmost respect for a business that supports the Gnome away from home Orphanage.” She holds up the tea cup to illustrate her point. "No blood will be shed correct? I really hate to be a stickler about our order but, you see, I really really kinda like that rule."

Ashlynn gives Umien the sort of look a soldier would give their superior. Should you lead into battle, that look says, I will follow.

Even if the battle is... unconventional.

It seems that the weighty decision rests on Umien's shoulders, far as Ashlynn is concerned.

Umien laughs. "Sure! That sounds like fun." She sips some tea. "It's not so much a matter of negotiation. The Watch has a stake in this. They can, I think, be made to do the right thing."

The Guard Captain, a tall and (for an elf) burly man, he draws up a chair, even as the butler shows up with chairs for each of the heroes. The Grand Dame claps her head excitedly,"Druzyly! My champion! Oh, I shall join in as well!" She has the butler move her chair without getting up, and she joins Druzyly's side,"Druzyly will demonstrate!" The butler, pulling out a table, sets a wine glass before each 'contestant' and then tips wine from a bottle into each glass. Then the guard captain, Druzyly lifts his glass,"Oruchs... are foul uncivilized beasts who settle their differences with muscles and do not understand the value of the truely honorable. Discourse. Therefore, arrows and elvish steel are the only language these brutes will respond to." And then he drains the cup and sets it down, even as the butler moves to reveal it. "Now you."

Albain lifts up the offered glass, gazing into its ruby depths before speaking his own argument. "Judging the character of another culture through only the merits of one's own blinds the observer to the nuances and intricacies of that culture. All too often we casually dismiss because it is easy and convenient, when truly understanding another is difficult and taxing. Understanding more than one point of view is the product of an elightened and civilized mind." he declares before taking his drink.

Fiona blinks at this, “okay make your case, drink and so forth.” She nods slowly. Picking up the cup she frowns, “What if you hit one of your customers in such battle.” Fiona studies the cup slowly, “What good would business be if your customers are afraid that you will accidently kill them as they try to come to your door? Bloodshed will only lead to the loss of profit, Loss of profit only leads to bankruptcy, bankruptcy leads to the poor house, the poor house leads to dealing with miss matched socks” She nods slowly. “Don’t fight with Oruchs, you will just have to deal with have miss matched socks.”

Umien laughs. "But, I mean, aren't these sorts of 'negotiations' really all ABOUT arrows and steel? It's not a summer poetry contest."

Katja looks down at the wine for a moment. Not her favourite but... she takes it up. "So, you are supposed to be much more civilized and such. But you seem pretty eager to go fight them even though you say -they're- the fightmongers. Why not 'prove' your civility by, you know. Talking civilly." And down goes the wine.

Ashlynn stares at the glass set before her, eyes narrowing as if she were gazing upon some sort of demon.

And in her eyes, it very well might be. Ashlynn has never found a friend in alcohol, and isn't about to start... but one must make difficult sacrifices when one strives to bring peace and order.

"It is not your place to exact this justice. You may yet find common ground. Let the Watch mediate." she offers her own simple words, and grasps the glass in the entirely uncouth manner of someone who has -no idea whatsoever- how to hold a wineglass. Said wineglass is then tipped back - down the hatch with the contents, and up with the expression of disgust at the taste.

"You know," he opines, as he sips the wine, gesturing with the goblet, "I think that we're shining beacons of civility, they are vile pieces of savage shit routine is just a cover for intellectual laziness." He downs his drink.

The guard captain lifts his glass,"Aaaah, but while some might call it laziness or 'street justice'... These are matters of honor and family... And where such brutish thugs and curs are concerned, they reason is a tool for dreamers and hopefuls. Aye, perhaps some of you grasp the full measure of civility, but not the full measure of the situation itself. For these are orcs, truly one of the most warlike peoples on the planet." And he drains his cup, stifling a burp. The Grand Dame meanwhile expounds,"Frankly, it is nothing short of civility on our part that allows us to coexist with such a dangerous and barbarous people." Nothing like good ol'-fashioned racism. She drains her cup like a pro and slams it down, though, leaving the butler to refill it.

Albain appears to be feeling the effects of the wine, but takes a shot at the next glass regardless. "In all my time spent sailing to distant shores, one thing remained constant; everyone else sees everyone else as being inferior somehow... in some way. We're all the same, that way." he concludes, with a little less forcefulness and clarity than his first statement. He also needs to take a seat, as his feet don't quite comply with his request to stay standing. And down goes the wine.

Fiona listens to the others as her glass is refilled. “If you are truly civil, then you know that the best way to defeat your enemies is by using the law, and from what has been said you have all of the law on your side.” Fiona thinks for a moment, “Well, perhaps, but look at it this way. If you fight them, you will be seen as thugs as much as they are seen as Thugs, but if you talk with them, You will be seen as the great, wonderful elves that overcame the barbaric savagery of the orcs, and trained them to be civil.”She downs her drink and offers out the glass for another go.

Umien is starting to get a little tipsy. She gets even chattier than usual. The alcohol also makes her a bit more direct. She doesn't resist this change too much. "If the Watch for some reason decides not to help, then fine, you can decide if you want to risk just going in there yourselves and killing everybody, but, and, hey, this is strong stuff, where's it from? And yeah sure I'll have another." She knocks it back quite merrily, while munching on a scone.

Katja nods a little as she looks at her companions- then back to the captain and the lady. "Little else for me to say- save that you're apparently clinging so hard to this you're willing to allow this... thing," she picks up one of the godawful teacups. "Into your otherwise beautiful office just to prove a silly point that -nobody cares about-." And drink!

"All creatures under the Hunter's watchful gaze that do not defy His laws deserve some respect. It is understandable that you are wary - but you are called to have the courage to offer peace. That courage can be greater than the courage it takes to fight." Whether it's the drink that's loosened Ashlynn's tongue, the woman's taken to actually speaking full sentences, in a strong voice filled with conviction (if perhaps rusty for lack of use).

Once again, the refilled glass is taken in an awkward, if steely grip, and sloshed down with a look on her face that would have one think she's drinking vinegar, not fine wine.

Constantin waits for the refill. "Honor and family? I've seen the high table and the gutter both -- there is very little difference in people's behaviour. No matter the costume others force them to wear. It's easy to play up the differences so there's something to fight about -- and I should know, I make good money doing that dirty work -- but it takes work to talk it through like civilized folk." Work, real work, that involves drinking.

"You two remind me of a noble who once sailed with my uncle. He wanted to see the world, but only when it wasn't dirty, or dusty, or might get him sweaty from a vigorous walk. He balked at touching an old copper bracelet from an ancient long dead people because a spider had walked over it. It was really quite sad." Albain rambles on, obviously not holding his own against the wine. "You're quite sad." he declares, levelling an accusatory finger before draining his new glass.

"Look, I may cede that tempers are running high, but we are ELVES. We do not make hasty decisions. The Silver Guard over there is witness to this! Honor and Family is a matter especially dear to elves! How could such short-lived orcs say such things! And after selling off our priceless artifact and stealing our money! They are plagues on this land, and deserve such as they have gotten and will get from us!" The guard Captain is swaying a bit now on his seat, his arguments a bit less... coherent. And the Grand dame,"You've convinced me! This IS good wine! I will have some more." She pounds a glass. Then pounds another glass. And then another.

Fiona watches everyone go another round and then just says it, “You..” she points to the woman, “Are afraid. You are afraid you will be seen as weak.” She frowns and nods, “Because your son was killed, and you want to taste the blood of the...” she uses a word that is NOT lady like at all to describe someone, “who killed him.” She nods simply at the woman. “I don’t blame you, But what better way to stick it to them, then watch him hang, publically, because of the hurt they did to your son. And bringing out that they stole your money, labels them as thieves, who wants to do business with thieves.” She points out and then downs her wine.

Umien laughs. "Look, are we even really debating this anymore, or are we just all getting drunk? Because I'm certainly getting drunk. Ha! But really, I haven't heard a cogent argument against talking to the Watch other than that you don't have to. So fine, you don't have to. But you should." She knocks back another.

"... Drunk? Can none of you hold your drink?" Katja questions almost incredulously. She shakes her head a little. "Look, just come back and talk to the Watch, and we can put this all behind. Well. Sober up, and -then- come talk to the watch. But no fighting, or I suspect the Watch might side with the orcs because of -you- being the aggressors."

Katja also glugs

Ashlynn tips her head sideways at the elf, giving him a questioning - and frightfully clear - look. "A decision to go to war without seeking a peaceful resolution first seems quite hasty to me. The losses this action would bring far outweight any possible gains. You may yet find gains in negotiation, for yourself and for others."

What, another glass? She was hoping she was DONE with that torment! Ashlynn's jaw juts, and with the determination befitting a soldier, she faces yet another demon-in-a-glass, downing it and giving a dry, pained cough following.

"Sweet Blue Rose's tears of compassion! Who's the long-lived race around here and who's the petulant toddler-species?!" He slams his wine. "More wine!"

The guard captain, meanwhile manages to stand, a frothy rage upon his lips, only to fall over unconscious the next moment. One drink too many. He curls up in the corner, sucking on his thumb. The old elven dowager, meanwhile stands up, after a long drink, cup being filled by her butler yet again even as she stands,"I'll get that little orcish slut for running off with my son! I'll go to her father and tell him what a little trollop she's been! And a murder too! Take me to the watch! IIIII... am filing a complaint." She drains her cup, then gestures for the butler to refill it before marching for the door. Without her shoes on.

Fiona is drunk. Its not that she is a bad drunk. Just a warm drunk, she moves to undo the top few buttons and starts to fan herself. “Oh this is some good wines.” she offers speaking in cursive. A small hiccup gives her a pause. “Alright.” Fiona holds up a finger, “Lets go...” she offers and moves to stand up but then almost falls over, “Or At least go to get my shoes.” She says and downs her drink. “I like these slippers by the way.”

Umien giggles over her wine glass. "Ooookay, that's enough for now. C'mon, human friends, you heard her."

Katja, on the other hand, looks around the group... looks to the other mostly-not-drunk person, Ashlynn. "Should we just... toss them over our shoulders?"

Constantin glances towards the butler. "We're going to need our boots, good sir!" He straightens up, shoots his sleeves. "So. Who needs a horsey ride?"

Ashlynn stands up slowly. She's quite unused to the feeling of insects fluttering inside her skull. She may not be really all that drunk, but her body just couldn't fully purge that last glass. Shaking her head to clear the muddy sensation (it does nothing), she answers Katja's question practically and wordlessly - by walking over to Albain and lifting him as if he were a wounded soldier in need of assistance and beginning the slow trek back out of the accursed manor-warehouse.

The Grand Dame is trying to put her fancy fur coat on. Which seems to involve trying to slip into an owlbear skin being used as a rug. It's not going well.

Katja nods as Ashlynn does her thing, and looks at the others... she proceeds to go to pick up Fiona over one shoulder. And then Umien over the other assuming all works out as she means it to. They're only little, after all. "Someone get her coat on her?" she asks about the Dame.

"Darling!" Constantin sweeps up the rug, and offers it to the Grand Dame. "This year's fashion drapes it differently -- here, let me show you!"

Fiona standsup and starts to head towards the door. “Alright..” she stops and looks at the coat of the woman, “Oh that is...Not a coat.” she states and starts to head out of the room. “ And then she is picked up and lets out a big giggle. “I am being carried!” Fiona announces!

Umien squirms and resists the lift-up. "Oh, that's okay, I'm okay, haha, just a little too much to drink." She steps back and glances around the room.

Katja is perfectly fine to let Umien go free, 'tis true.

"We will... need help with the maze." Ashlynn tells the butler as the group prepares haphazardly for their departure. Her eyes do not QUITE go crosseyed looking at the pointy-eared man, but it's a close thing. At the very least, she is not drunk enough to not be able to put her boots back on. There's a BIT of hopping.

Oddly, getting out of the maze is easier when drunk. Fancy that. The processional is loud, drunken, and generally announced by bad behavior on the Grand Dame's part. Such as loud singing and swearing in elvish. Indeed, all the way, the poor beleagured butler is busy refilling her cup dutifully. And The darned woman won't stop flirting with Constantin after he gets the rug wrapped on her properly. Somewhere along the way, the procession draws a few dockworkers and sailors who are also drunk.... which devolves into bawdy drinking songs sung in yrch. The Grand Dame, not surprisingly, seems to be leading the most bawdy of the songs. When they reach the Watch office, she holds her hand out to the side, as if expecting someone to take her glass from her (it just drops and shatters on the floor), then gathers her poise, and wanders into the Watch Commanders office. Apparently the other group sent to the orcish delegation met with some success, because behind the door one can hear the loud swears of both elven and orcish voices raised in anger at each other![[Category:Logs]]

Recent Logs

2012-12-12T02:51:13Z

Fiona: /* Our Logs */

[[Category:Logs]]
Roleplay is central to Tenebrae, and consists of a mix of scenes, grid, and PrPs. Here you may read some of the logs our players have posted, or wanted to share. This page may also be used to post logs for PrPs, to share an item for staff review, or to tell players about a great scene. Remember too, if you're RPing in a public area, a log may end up on this site. Most recent logs are at the '''bottom.'''

==How to Post a Log==
{{TableMain}}
{{T01}}
| colspan="2" | Log Help
{{T02}}
|I Need Help With...
|Look Here
|-
|Posting a log
|[[How to Post a Log]]
|-
|Wiki formatting
|'''[[How to Format a Log Quickly|How to Automagically Clean a Log]]''', [[Help:Editing#Formatting|Wiki Help]]
|-
|Finding a PrP template
|[[PrP Template]]
|-
|Finding what goes in a PrP log
|[[Player_Run_Plots#Sending_in_a_Finished_PrP|Submitting PrPs]]
|-
|Finding logs from the old website
|[http://emblemofea.pbworks.com/w/page/12036798/Game-Logs The Old Site]
|}

==Our Logs==
{{TableMain}}
{{T02}}
|Date
|Log
|People
|-
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|[[A Duel!]]
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|-
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|[[How to Smite with a Poo Cart]]
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|-
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|[[Crusaders, Start Your Engines!]]
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|-
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|[[Adamantine Tinkering]]
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|-
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|[[Storytime in the Dragon's Den]]
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|-
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|[[Adamantine Hunt]]
|
|-
|Aug 6 2012
|[[PRP: Unbearable]]
|[[Constantin]], [[Nadara]], [[Leisel]], [[Quint]], [[Dante]], [[Jibbom]]
|-
|Aug 7 2012
|[[A Formal Complaint]]
|[[Donk]], [[Dante]]
|-
|Aug 7, 2012
|[[The Overturned Cart]]
| [[Kalkorth]], [[Constantin]], [[Donk]], [[Emir]], [[Trank]], [[Svarshan]], [[Myrana]], [[Eira]]
|-
|Aug 8, 2012
|[[Felicia's Very Sandy Birthday Party]]
|[[Emir]], [[Svarshan]], [[Mikilos]], [[Katja]], [[Sandy]]
|-
|Aug ?, 2012
|[[Fox Ears for Azog]]
|[[Azog]], [[Abrahil]], [[Myrana]], [[Kalkorth]], [[Conrad]], [[Garrin]]
|-
|Aug 9, 2012
|[[Raising Halani]]
|[[Halani]], [[Kerbasy]], [[Craft]], [[Jinks]]
|-
|Aug 22, 2012
|[[Wanted Posters]]
|[[Abrahil]], [[Sandy]], [[Myrana]]
|-
|Aug 14, 2012
|[[Sildanyari do Not Birth Gnomes]]
|[[Jibbom]], [[Rotgut]], [[Faun]], [[Boshter]], [[Cesran]], [[Ormarr]], [[Mikilos]]
|-
|August 23, 2012
|[[A Tea Cart]]
|[[Svarshan]], [[Jibbom]], [[Azog]], [[Sandy]], [[Mikilos]], [[Lumina]], [[Moonshadow]]
|-
|August 25, 2012
|[[Moonwatching]]
|[[Kama'o]], [[Mikilos]], [[Colrick]], [[Locien]], [[Usha]], [[Constantin]]
|-
|August 31, 2012
|[[Prancing Poncy Swiftclaws]]
|[[Jibbom]], [[Sandy]], [[Lumina]], [[Svarshan]], [[Locien]]
|-
|September 1, 2012
|[[Dastardly Dealings]]
|[[Jibbom]], [[Mikilos]]
|-
|September 3, 2012
|[[PRP: Catacombs Kidnapping]]
|[[Sonja]], [[Grunak]], [[Colrick]], [[Seadhna]], [[Jibbom]], [[Kathryn]]
|-
|September 4, 2012
|[[Social: BAD DOG!]]
|[[Kama'o]], [[Moonshadow]], [[Nadara]], [[Lumina]], [[Ashlynn]]
|-
|September 5, 2012
|[[PRP: The Laughing Anna]]
|[[Moonshadow]], [[Munch]], [[Seadhna]], [[Zarr]]
|-
|September 6, 2012
|[[The Best Medicine]]
|[[Jibbom]], [[Lumina]], [[Savannah]], [[Boshter]], [[Zalara]], [[Mikilos]]
|-
|September 8, 2012
|[[Social: Hangover]]
|[[Kama'o]], [[Teppus]], [[Chloe]], [[Lumina]], [[Donk]]
|-
|Sept 13, 2012
|[[Muse of Doom]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Azog]], [[Jessa]], [[Zalara]], [[Quint]], [[Svarshan]], [[Chloe]]
|-
|Sept 14, 2012
|[[Career Day]]
|[[Ormarr|Wonderpony]], [[Jessa]], [[Mikilos]], [[Angrid]], [[Zalara]], [[Constantin]]
|-
|Sept 15, 2012
|[[PrP: Sanctuary Cleansing]]
|[[Jessa]], [[Melbert]]
|-
|September 15, 2012
|[[Not Yet a Knight]]
|[[Kerbasy]], [[Jareth]], [[Azog]], [[Cesran]], [[Mikilos]]
|-
|September 15, 2012
|[[Double Rainbow Man (Again)]]
|[[Svarshan]], [[Agril]], [[Jessa]], [[Constantin]], [[Selia]], [[Younger]]
|-
|Sept 16, 2012
|[[Coyote Meets Phoenix]]
|[[Jibbom]], [[Jessa]]
|-
|September 17, 2012
|[[Younger's Busted Leg]]
|[[Abrahil]], [[Younger]], [[Jessa]], [[Munch]], [[Chloe]], [[Lumina]]
|-
|September 18, 2012
|[[Thrax]]
|[[Savannah]], [[Jibbom]], [[Cesran]], [[Mikilos]]
|-
|Sept 25, 2012
|[[Hip-pest Reaction]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Zalara]], [[Jessa]], [[Moonshadow]], [[Ellerela]]
|-
|October 13, 2012
|[[Shamblers in the Woods]]
|[[Svarshan]], [[Leisel]]
|-
|October 15, 2012
|[[Clara the Lance]]
|[[Cinnamon]], [[Kerbasy]]
|-
|October 16, 2012
|[[Sandy is a Dandy]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Kerbasy]], [[Jinks]], [[Constantin]], [[Arissa]]
|-
|October 17, 2012
|[[Tent Fires]]
|[[Myrana]], [[Svarshan]]
|-
|October 17, 2012
|[[The Statues]]
|[[Eleia]], [[Kerbasy]], [[Boshter]]
|-
|October 19, 2012
|[[Challenge Beyond Our Means]]
|[[Albain]], [[Craft]], [[Svarshan]]
|-
|October 23, 2012
|[[Alleyway]]
|[[Donk]], [[Faun]], [[Quint]], [[Selia]], [[Whendi]]
|-
|October 26, 2012
|[[Kittens Jessa Kittens|Kittens, Jessa, Kittens!]]
|[[Quint]], [[Jessa]], [[Sandy]], [[Svarshan]], [[Cesran]],
|-
|October 27, 2012
|[[There Can be Only One Pretty Pretty Princess|There Can be Only One (Pretty Pretty Princess)]]
| [[Azog]], [[Cinnamon]], [[Sandy]], [[Constantin]], [[Svarshan]]
|-
|Unknown
|[[Giant Pink Hips]]
|[[Gragnar]], [[Jessa]], [[Svarshan]], [[Sandy]], [[Jibbom]], [[Emir]]
|-
|November 11, 2012
|[[Coming to Alexandria]]
|[[Fiona]], [[Cesran]]
|-
|November 11, 2012
|[[Young impressionable Youth]]
|[[Younger]], [[Fiona]]
|-
|November 13, 2012
|[[Till Death Do us Part]]
|[[Mel]], [[Ashlynn]], [[Zalara]], [[Eliathitae]], [[Fiona]]
|-
|November 14, 2012
|[[Goblintown]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Jareth]], [[Younger]], [[Fiona]]
|-
|November 16, 2012
|[[A Land Down Under]]
|[[Hilal]], [[Gavisa]],[[Mel]], [[Vennan]],[[ Angrid]], [[Zalara]],[[ Fiona]],[[ Jessa]]
|-
|November 17, 2012
|[[Once Upon a Jail Cell]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Myrana]], [[Svarshan]], [[Fiona]], [[Eliathitae]], [[Selia]]
|-
|November 18, 2012
|[[Bar Talk]]
|[[Angrid]], [[Azog]], [[Kaedin]], [[Mikilos]]
|-
|Novenber 19,2012
|[[Of Honor and Laughter]]
|[[Kaedin]], [[Azog]]
|-
|November 19, 2012
|[[The Beginning of an Odd Partnership]]
|[[Kaedin]], [[Maxine]]
|-
|November 28, 2012
|[[Thoughts on Jobs and Life]]
|[[Hilal]], [[Oates]], [[Halani]], [[Quint]]
|-
|November 27, 2012
|[[Sandy Gets Hitched]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Saevrinimata]], [[Mikilos]], [[Kerbasy]], [[Arngrid]], [[Constantin]]
|-
|November 29, 2012
|[[A Type of Armor]]
|[[Kerbasy]], [[Aenyn]]
|-
|November 30,2012
|[[Goblin Caravan]]
|[[Craft]], [[Mikilos]], [[Oates]]
|-
|December 4, 2012
|[[Late Night at Wayfarer's Inn]]
|[[Maendir]], [[Zalara]], [[Oates]]
|-
|December 5, 2012
|[[Jinks Pearly Temple|Jinks' Pearly Temple]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Oates]], [[Abrahil]], [[Jinks]]
|-
|December 5, 2012
|[[Beyond the Pearly Temple]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Oates]], [[Jinks]], [[Svarshan]], [[Myrana]], [[Maendir]], [[Constantin]], [[Quint]]
|-
|December 10, 2012
|[[Rocks, Poop, Hips, and Stew!!]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Oates]], [[Fiona]], [[Svarshan]], [[Liessa]], [[Azog]], [[Achala]], [[Leisel]]
|-
|December 11 2012
|[[Mercantile Obligation (Porocora DM)]]
|[[Katja]], [[Ashlynn]], [[Albain]], [[Fiona]]
|}

Leisel's Rocks

2012-12-10T05:02:58Z

Fiona: Created page with "The inn's main room is large yet cosy, with plaster walls and a low ceiling supported by sturdy oaken beams. The decor is sparse: there's little other furniture save for a few..."

The inn's main room is large yet cosy, with plaster walls and a low ceiling supported by sturdy oaken beams. The decor is sparse: there's little other furniture save for a few rough-hewn wooden tables and chairs, and the only real object of 'ornamentation' is the large, moth-eaten moose head that's set above the kitchen door at the far end of the room. Still, the inn is pleasant in a simple, rustic way, and the delicious smell of food cooking makes it all the more inviting; the place seems to be more of a restaurant than a tavern, and a bar is nowhere in sight.

The innkeeper's counter sits in the east corner, within a few paces of the main entrance. Behind the counter is a small storeroom where one can purchase traveling supplies. The west corner of the room is occupied by a spiral staircase that leads to the second story.

Fiona makes her way into the inn. She has pulled her cloak around her tightly and doesn't bother with taking it off until after she is near an empty chair. Plopping down into the seat she waits until a waitress draws close, “Stew.” She says through chattering teeth. “Very. Very warm stew...and bread.” She adds as an after thought. “Please hurry.”

Sandy casually kicks a chair out across from the one she's slumped into for the lizard, sitting on the edge of her chair herself. She lets out a sigh, then rolls hre shoulders and adds to Liessa. "I know the feeling. Seriously. 'Course, that's what I get for agreeing to help an idiot."

Liessa says, "I feel like that's most of what I've done since coming back to this bloody town."
Liessa sneezes.

Azog has managed a bowl of stew for himself. He's standing at the bar eating it, though he looks over to Sandy as she comments on helping an idiot. "That is the normal definition of a hero in this city, is it not? Performing some dangerous task for someone who is afraid to take the risk, himself?"

Oates chuckles around a few bites of stew. "Sounds about right," he admits. "Sometimes there's jobs where the most important thing is to have the audacity to show up, and that's where adventurers will be."

"Dragon's Wings, Tree Ssspeaker," Svarshan replies warmly. And he clasps her briefly on the shoulder before indicating the sildanyari's table, and the moved chair, with a move of his head. "Come join us?" He pauses and adds in quieter tones, "The ssstew was made fresh yesterday."

Leisel considers Svarshan's invitation. She then pulls the rocks off to the side. "I can take a few moments.." she smiles, "Bailey says you look very good, and.. to tell his other friend, he likes her poop better than the camel he hitched a ride on after our last adventure. Which I am never going to live down.." She puts the beetle on her head, and moves to sit down at the table with Sandy and Svarshan. "Warm spiced cider please.." she smiles at the barkeep, who seems a bit surprised to see Leisel staying.

Fiona blinks at all the conversations that are going on and tilts her head about idiots, poop and camels. Her stew arrives and she starts to eat it slowly, quietly, and most of all, savoring the warmth that emanates from it.

"Gonna have a word with the weather gods one of these days," answers Sandy. "Tell them to stop making it so bloody cold. Isn't that right?" says Sandy, putting a hand over he rface at Leisel's talking. "Drinks are on me," she adds, dryly. Leisel makes her want to drink, it is clear.

"So, what brings each of you out here this rainy evening?" inquires Oates, taking a drink from his mulled cider.

Liessa says, "Madness, apparently. I had things as needed doing and then" she points skyward, "THAT happened.""

"Sssider...does that..." Svarshan asks, the words slow. And then he gets that look on his face, that sort of grimace when he just can't put the words together. And he grunts, and leans over to rummage in the sack by his feet, instead. He'd sat down when Leisel had, in the chair Sandy had shoved outwards. Now, clink-clonk sounds come from inside the pack, and shhh-shhuh, as he moves things around. "I...will have the. Sssider." And he grunts at Oates' question, apparently poor at responding to more than one task at a time.

Azog is here, is eating stew at the bar. There are many strange and amazing things being said this evening, but Azog does not have any comment of his own to make in response. Oates's question is at least comprehensible, so he response by pointing to his bowl of stew with a puzzled look.

Fiona looks up from her stew and wipes the back of her mouth with her hand, “COLD..” she says forcably, “how the hell do you all survive this damnedable cold.” she grumbles and goes back to her stew.

Svarshan grunts a final time, one of those gods-I-just-found-it grunts, or maybe it's a gods-now-I-need-to-straighten-up grunts before straightening. He clomps a jar onto the table. "Molasses," he says. And, "What do I...use this. For?" And he glances over at Fiona, then and starts to laugh. It's an odd laugh, mostly hissing, like a tea pot that had heated too hot.

Leisel's beetle crawls about on her head, mostly looking towards Svarshan, which he has to move again to do so as Leisel turns her head towards Oates. "Walking rocks..." as if that would be the most normal of things to do on a freezing cold night. She smiles at Sandy's offer to pay for the drinks, as the warm mug is set down infront of her. She mutters something quietly before she drinks.

"Idiot asked for my help. I gave it to him. He was still an idiot," says Sandy, "Bastard's lucky I didn't arrange for something blow up, or put something in his water supply." She sniffs. She is being , at least, somewhat discrete about the nature of the work, but that is that. She kicks Svarshan under the table once for hr own amusement and then says Leisel, "Why am I not surprised?" and then to Liessa, "Yes. That happened. Exactly."

“Rocks...walking..Wait what?” Fiona moans gently as if she anticipates a story that will cause some brain hemorrhaging. Idiots she can deal with, but rocks? Unknown at the current moment. “You are going to have to start at the beginning with that story.” The woman turns to the tea kettle dragon and his laugh. Her eyebrows perk up as if she isn't used to that sound but no comment is made in regards to it. “Idiot asked for your help doing what?'

Svarshan stops laughing as he's kicked, and grimaces, instead. And then grips the molasses, and slides it across the table to the Tree Speaker. "Essence gave. That. ...what do I...what do I use it for, Tree-Speaker?" he asks, each word twisting awkwardly over his tongue. And he gives Sandy a look. One of those: I'm going to throw a pie in your face when you're not looking, looks.

Oates gives a slight grin and takes another drink of the mulled cider. Sounds like he's not the only one curious as to the nature of the idiot Sandy helped, but at least this way he doesn't have to be the one to ask.

Liessa has apparently either ordered a tall mug of mulled cider for herself or stolen someone else's and is nursing it to warm up. "At least there's this."

Leisel blinks suprised at Sandy.. "Well.. I do it every week.. you shouldn't be... surprised. Oh, I should stop by.. to see your tree. I've been laxed lately." She turns towards Fiona, "I take the rocks for a walk." She replies, "You see the rocks get lonely. They need some interaction, you know.. get out once in a while. So I take them on walks. Socialization.. they do their jobs better when they are happy. I even had a budding romance once. It was hard to get them swapped out so they could be with each other, but I managed." One can only imagine.. She glances over at the molasses, and grips the top opening it. She dips in a finger.. "Very good. Its sweet. Add it to Princesse's food, it will be good for her." She looks up to the beetle on her head, "No I'm not purposefully leaving you out of the conversation. Yes he knows you are here.. yes he likes you. He thinks you have the best poop collection..." she smiles at Svarshan, in askance of forgiveness of Bailey's manners.

"Yes, you should stop by to see the tree. I am sure he's missed you. Or she. Whatever," says Sandy, waving a hand dismissively in Leisel's direction while she continues, "There *is* that," she agrees with Leisel, raising her warmed drink and mug. Scowl. SCOWL!

Svarshan looks up from where he's tapping the lid of the jar of molasses and then blinks once, slowly. "Sa," he agrees blandly, "Brown rocks." And then he leans back, jar in hand, and starts to unscrew the thing. Glances up at Sandy. "Blood pressssure," he reminds her. Solemn. And. Adds no comment to the scene between Fiona and Leisel. He's lived this long for a reason. And that is generally being smart enough to not get between two females. In fact, if he subtle shifts his chair closer towards Oates and away from the others, it might be considered pure coincidence or raw survival.

Fiona blinks even slower now. “They..get lonely.” she repeats and then looks at her stew. She seems to be really really thinking about this concept before lifting her head, “I am going to regret this, but budding romance? Between you and a rock?” Fiona wonders.

Oates gives Svarshan a nod as the sith-makar shifts out of the direct line of fire. Leisel's descriptions are certainly interesting, and definitely has the farmboy's attention. Never know what one might learn, after all.

Leisel starts to laugh, and shaking her head. "No no.. between two of the rocks that I took on a walk. Ruby and Jones.. they liked one another. Wanted to do the same job. I just had to talk to the merchants to trade out the rocks. Barnaby agreed to take Ruby's place, so Ruby and Jones could be together. It was a lovely ceremony. The High Druid allowed it to take place out at the Grove." Yeah.. you did ask.

"I am not ssssure Srassha would like. This. ...have you ever tried it, Oates?" he asks the farm lad. And then he looks back at Leisel, and slowly, slowly closes his muzzle.

""Srassha likes everything since you never feed her. /Ever/," says Sandy to Svarshan, dryly. Then she eyes Oates and says, "Bet you thougth you'd never see a Sith-Makar, eh?"

Fiona blinks slowly, “Did they have any pebbles?: she asks now and tilts her head. A few bites of her stew are taken and then her head rests on her hand.

Azog finishes his meal, offers a nod toward Sandy's table, taking in Svarshan, Oates, and the others. "Good evening," he says, and exits.

Oates takes a good look at the molasses. "At that color... might make decent gingerbread, or possibly rum," he muses, then looks over at Sandy. "Can't say they were common around Elmsley-on-Danra," admits Oates. "Modest amount of mercenary traffic, so you do tend to see all kinds eventually, but Sith-Makar weren't common, no."

"Sa," Svarshan says, to the comment about Srassha. He leans back and eyes the claw he'd lifted out from the molasses and listens as Oates describes it. And then he pops it into his muzzle and just...
Looks down at the rest of the jar. "I think. ...thiss would taste very good. On demon."

Leisel smiles brightly at Fiona, enjoying the questions. "Not yet, but they are considering moving out of town before starting a family. That is going to be the hard part. They are currently at the bakery, and are very good heating rocks for his oven. It will be very hard to find good replacement rocks for him, but I'm searching. Natural rock holds heat better than the clay bricks." She looks over at the burlap drape with rocks and some bricks. "I'm sorry.. its true.. but you guys are excellent foundation." She looks over at Oates, "Svarshan was my first. He has the most beautiful swiftclaw!"

Fiona nods slowly at this, “Well why not teach the pebbles how to be baking stones also, Many family traditions are..” she stops and realizes what exactly she is saying, “Well. More fire to them on their choices.” She offers and then looks at the bricks and frowns, “She didn't mean any insult.” she states simply to them, as if that is supposed to placate the bricks. “swift claw?” Fiona wonders now.

"Elmsley, huh?' says Sandy, "Never heard of it. This is probably not surprising." She shakes her head, then rolls her shoulders and goes to nurse her drink somewhat. A lot somewhat, actually.

Svarshan dips his fingers into the jar again. Mrmmm. Molasses. "Sa. A kind of...Ssshe is a princess," he says after a time, evidently lacking words to describe it. And he leans back, licking the goo-sugar-ooblek from his claws, looking all the while like a cat who'd just found the cream. Except nowhere near as fuzzy and adorable. He points with the other hand towards Leisel. And Sandy. "Ssshe. She has. Words."

Leisel smiles "Indeed.. " she tries to help out Svarshan, "Swiftclaw.. his friend and mount. She is beautiful, and loves to be told such." she glances from Oates to Sandy and back again. "Nor have I. Where is this place? " She spares Svarshan a glance as he seems to like his molasses.

Achala ducks in through the door, wiping his palms on his thighs. He slows as he scans the room – people!

Fiona blinks at this and nods slowly. “OH.” She starts in on her stew again. “You talk to a lot of different types of things.” Fiona nods slowly. “You must learn a lot about what is going on in the city. I mean who really pay attention to the bricks when they do bad things.”

"Not surprising at all," agrees Oates. "It's a decently prosperous small town in northern Alexandros, but not one that's really noteworthy. Mostly it's just the market town for a hard-working farming community, and trade is good, but it's no major crossroads."

"I may have. Passed there, once or twice," Svarshan replies thoughtfully. He pauses after a while, and continues, "I never went in. ...but. Ssst. One worked with Essences. In the area. Sa. Dragon's Wings...Achala," he says, as the other enters. Svarshan sits at a table with Sandy and Leisel, with a jar of molasses in front of him. That seems to cover a number of the digits of his fingers. Nearby, Fiona sits, chatting with Leisel, and Oates rests at the bar.

Leisel's attention turns to Fiona again. "Very much so, and most of the time they don't do bad things. They don't always do good things. They get mad at us a lot, cause we take them for granted. But I do try and explain.. the walks help a lot. Helps them stay.. " she glances up and sees Achala, "connected. They don't like being alone.." she looks back to Fiona, "Like when the mists were here. They were very very upset." Even her voice sounds sad as she mentions the mists.

"Ah, yeah. Okay. Another town," says Sandy, waving a hand at Oates. "Lots of towns. I should probably pay more attention to them. Was it on the other side of the mists, then?" she asks Oates.

Achala lifts a hand towards Svarshan. "Greetings, demonchomper." There's a smile, then he deviates towards the bar to order an ale. He asks Leisel: "Rocks?"

Fiona listens to Leisel's words. “How did you learn to talk to them?” she asks. Turning towards Oates another head tilt is given, and a study of him slowly. “normally when there is mists around it was in a bath house. We never really asked what was on the other side of those Mists though..” she points out to Sandy, “You never know, it could have been a naked orc.”

"Brown rocks," Svarshan fills in as his food arrives. And there is is: the Inn's classic stew. Meat in a meat-sauce with root vegetables and potatoes. And he looks between one and the other and scoops some of the molasses into it.

Leisel points towards the rocks in response to Achala, on the burlap drap in which an assortment of rocks lay. "My usual.. " she turns her attention back to Fiona. "It was the mists.. when they surrounded Alexandria." Her voice is deadpan, "Cut us off from the world. The earth cried out.. didn't know what was happening. I heard it speak, I heard its cry of loneliness..." She stares off into the distance. "We were so alone.. so cut off. We became friends.. even the Grove trembled, the tress were confused." She seems to have withdrawn into herself. Then the beetle who had fallen asleep on her head moves and almost falls, clamping onto a strand of hair to hang infront of her face. She comes to, catching him as he falls. "Yes.. I know you are here." She smiles gently at the beetle.

"Certainly was," agrees Oates. "It's several days from here to Elmsley-on-Danra, so while we knew about the mists, it wasn't like it was a pressing thing. Well, other than adjusting for a missing market to sell grain and produce to, that is."

Fiona looks at the beetle and narrows her eyes. She leans in a bit to study it closer. “What its name? It seems to really like your hair.” She looks at the man that spoke. “Yes. She got a set of rocks married, they are waiting on having pebbles until after they can find replacements for themselves because they are baking stones.” She states simply. “Its a very interesting story but I THINK I just told it all.”

Achala looks over at Fiona. "Do you have a problem with the savage, unclothed beauty of half of my people?" He 'hngs' affably at Leisel, and buries his face in his ale.

"A. Sunguard once. ..." Svarshan falls quiet, the words tumbling, falling from sense. He closes his eyes briefly as he leans over the stew...and takes a breath. Starts again. "That a farmer will alwaysss move on. They are like the. Like the weather. I will fight an oruch. He will fight me. But the farmer will always be there, waiting for uss to leave and move so he can grow his...his crops." He lets go a sigh with that, and leans back in the chair. The stew in front of him steams, with a small bubble or two along the edge due to how it had been heated.

Leisel puts the beetle back onto her head, "His name is Bailey.. my longest friend. He has a poop collection, which Svarshan's swiftclaw has generously given to. We even have dragon poop!" She mentions this excitedly, as if her earlier dpression about the mists and the lonely earth had not just happened. She starts to reach for her carisack, then realizes she doesn't have it with her. "Well, you'll have to come to the Grove to see it. And you won't need your heavy clothes, its warm there." She looks to Svarshan a moment, absorbing his words and nods, as if she at all understood what he said. "Farmers are good, if I can just get them past killing all the other plants besides the ones they want.."

Fiona shakes her head at Achala, “In the mists of the bath house...some times. When is the last time you saw a naked orc in a woman's bath house?” She points out simply. “A poop collection?” she asks and looks at the beetle. “why do you collect poop?” Fiona perks up at this, “Warm? I can deal with warm.”

Svarshan's muzzle curves up at the side. There's a sort of gratitude there. He leans forward at the table then, and digs into the stew, falling quiet after that. Too much.

Achala considers, frowning. "Well. I think I was last..." There's a pause. "Woman's bath house? How wasteful and decadent!"

Oates sagely nods in agreement with Svarshan. "And knowing my family, we'd sell grain to both of you," he adds. "Especially if the fight wasn't in the middle of a growing crop. As long as someone isn't causing trouble, their coin is as good as any other."

Fiona shrugs, “How did you get dragon poop.” she stops as she gives a glance to Svarshan, “never mind don't answer that. I don't think I want to know.”

Leisel grins at Fiona, "We had bath houses in Rune for women.. though I've never seen an oruch in one." She gives Bailey a gental pat, "We have a poop collection, because Bailey is a dung bettle. And we get all kinds of poop when we go out with the adventurers. I'm a healer from the Druid's Grove. We often go along on the trips, to make sure everyone comes back in one piece. I even got some poop from those flying.. um.. "She looks up at her head, as if to ask Bailey, "What were they again? Oh yes.. manticores.."

Achala deadpans at Leisel. "You follow adventurers around with a big shovel, don't you."

"No," Svarshan supplies Fiona. And he concentrates on his stew, one elbow on the table as he does. He looks tired, and quietly frustrated.

Sandy has been swilling her drink. She's been spending all her time focused on that. Of course she is. She just... ignroes everyone ele and seems to be in her own little world for the time being.

Fiona looks at Leisel, “Well that might make it easier. Also a good set of gloves.” Rubbing her forehead slowly she sighs. She gives a glance to Svarshan, “You look tired. Maybe a nice nap will help.”

"He always looks tired. It's the effort that goes with 'being Svarsham," explains Sandy, dryly, to Fiona.

Svarshan pauses, then shakes his head slowly before jabbing a piece of the stew with his fork. And then he puts the fork down with a sigh. And starts to say a thing. And ends up shaking his head again. "I ssshould go sssee to Srassha. Excuse. Me." He says, and stands, pushes his chair away from the table.

Achala nods to Leisel. "Yes, a good, thick, and washable set of gloves."

Fiona frowns as Svarshan stands and leaves. “What?” she asks and then frowns before going back to her own stew. She stabs at the meat and starts to eat it. “Maybe I should talk to some rocks...” She says quietly.

Leisel blinks her eyes for a moment, after taking a sip of her spiced cider. "Gloves?" Then looks at Achala, and sticks her tongue out at him. "No.. we have special leaves we use, we get them from the Grove. The trees like it when Bailey shares his lunch with them. So they donate leaves to bring home specimens in. Big ones.." she holds her hands up to show the size. "And the leaves don't absorb moisture to dry out the poop. Bailey hates re-constituted poop." She looks back towards the rocks.. "Well, I can probably find you a few that are looking for company. Some are even non-working rocks. I mix them up a bit. Its good for their socialization skills." She whispers quietly, "The non-working ones sometimes get a bit uppity.. if you know what I mean. Gotta keep them humble.."

Oates simply listens in and keeps eating his meal.

Fiona finishes her meal and stands up. “I am going to head back home.” She says and drops a few coins for her meal down. “I have some errands to work on.”[[Category:Logs]][[Category:Logs]]

Fiona

2012-12-10T05:02:24Z

Fiona: /* Logs */

New to the town. Fiona is still making her name in the Explorer's guild. She has been in several missions for the explorer's guild so far!

=Role Play!=
Fiona has been on several adventures of different types so far! Over all, she has meet some interesting people and done some interesting things in her short time. Nor can she wait to do even more! If you would like to RP with Fiona just drop her an @mail! I love to scene, though mostly it happens after 2000EST.
==Logs==
{{TableMain}}
{{T02}}
|Date
|Log
|People
|-
|November 11, 2012
|General Rp -- [[Coming to Alexandria]]
|[[Fiona]], [[Cesran]]
|-
|November 11, 2012
|General RP -- [[Young impressionable Youth]]
|[[Younger]], [[Fiona]]
|-
||November 13, 2012
|Staff Plot -- [[Till Death Do us Part]]
|[[Mel]], [[Ashlynn]], [[Zalara]], [[Eliathitae]], [[Fiona]]
|-
|November 14, 2012
|General RP -- [[Goblintown]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Jareth]], [[Younger]], [[Fiona]]
|-
|November 16, 2012
|Staff Plot -- [[A Land Down Under]]
|[[Hilal]], [[Gavisa]],[[Mel]], [[Vennan]],[[ Angrid]], [[Zalara]],[[ Fiona]],[[ Jessa]]
|-
|November 17, 2012
|General Rp -- [[Once Upon a Jail Cell]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Myrana]], [[Svarshan]], [[Fiona]], [[Eliathitae]], [[Selia]]
|-
|December 12, 2012
|General RP -- [[Leisel's Rocks]]
|[[Sandy]][[Oates]][[Svarshan]][[Fiona]][[Leisel]]
|}
[[Category:Player]]

Fiona

2012-11-19T02:41:28Z

Fiona: /* Logs */

Goblintown

2012-11-19T02:35:57Z

Fiona: Created page with "Category:Logs Who: Sandy, Younger, Jareth, Fiona What: While shopping in Goblin town Fiona meets Sandy and Jareth, then watches Younger fall off some scaffolding. 'Gobl..."

[[Category:Logs]]
Who: Sandy, Younger, Jareth, Fiona

What: While shopping in Goblin town Fiona meets Sandy and Jareth, then watches Younger fall off some scaffolding.

'Goblintown' consists of a dead-end street where a number of poor (and, as the name suggests, goblinoid) residents of the city live. Many of the buildings here have been cobbled together with whatever material was available at the time, often bits of metal and stone stolen from the factories to the north rather than wood. That said, in recent days, many of these temporary structures have been converted to more permanent fixtures, giving the area a less 'shanty' and more 'conventional' appearance, interspersed with the previously impoverished look the place was known for.

The occasional shrine to Reos seems to represent the only 'official' presence in the area, with the City Watch seeming all but invisible here. In their place, there appear to be numerous Arvek and Gobber groups that form a makeshift community watch, giving the sense of wary eyes on every street. From time to time, the symbol of Serriel may be seen as well, though mainly among the Arvek, who oft bear it with pride.

At one point there were few shops here, but now the entire area bristles with brisk trade of things ranging from basic necessities to the more esoteric magical and bits of artificery. It is said that one can find everything they need in Goblintown without having to step foot in another section of the city, and this statement, judging by the activity in this area night and day, may very well hold true.

What the hell is Sandy doing in Goblintown? At least a few people don't need to ask. She's actually going through the bits of artificery at one of the stalls, sorting through and around and trying to find *something* specific, it would appear.

There is some cursing. She looks back and forth and then begins to haggle with the merchant in question.

Goblintown. This is not the place that Fiona would normally be found, but then again she is new to the town so really there is no official place where she would be found or not found.She isn’t a tinkerer, or an artificer, or a wizard. The lack of city watch makes good girls like Fiona seem a bit apprehensive about this is a place she should be. But in her little world of looking for work, she needs to step out of her normal, and step into what might not be a normal. Plus the last time she was here, she visited the Gambling hall, and made some money. So that is always a bonus really! After being almost killed on a ship the night before, stabbing her hand with a knife, doesn’t seem to be so hard core any more.

Jareth has the 'fortunate' honor of being Sandy's beast of burden for this shopping trip. Following behind her, he's got a few parcels under his arm and in a burlap sack slung over his shoulder. The look on his face speaks volumes as to what he thinks of all this.

Indeed. That's why Sandy sets about stacking a few more things upon Jareth. "You know, I do appreciate this. I just have entirely too much to do to lately to carry all this myself." More stackin by the small elf on the larger human. "The temple was so gracious in loaning you out," she adds, with a hint of sarcasm to her tone.

Somewhere above Sandy and Jareth, a subtle -snap- can be heard-- "Shit!" Is cried. Then a Younger is plunging several stories head-first, plummeting toward Sandy and Jareth. His helmet slams into the ground next to Jareth, *TWANG*. "Fuuuuuu--" Behind him, a make-shift scaffolding hangs broken, flapping gently.

Jareth grunts as more items are piled onto the stack he carries, "Oh, think nothing of it, Lady Sandiel. My reward will be getting to sit at the same table as you and Agril during the Winter Festival dinner. That alone should leave me with plenty of memories for years to come."

Fiona stops at the sight of Younger, “Younger? What are you doing hanging around like that.” She winks at him. The other two are given a nod, and a knowing smile given to Jareth. You know that smile that is given to the man in a relationship when he is the pack mule...that I am sorry you got suckered into this smile. Reaching out to grab onto Younger to possibly help him down Fiona shakes her head.

"Who?" says Sandy to Jareth, "Isn't that that idiot priest?" Oh yeah. That's gonna go well. Then she hears the snap and sees Younger plumetting towards the ground. Her eyes track him all the way down, as her hands are a bit too full to actually do anything about it. "hey," she says, moving to Younger to nudge him with the toe of her boot. "Are you dead?" She asks. Then she spots Fiona.

As Younger lands on the ground next to him, Jareth lets the wrapped bundles and the burlap sack fall so he can help the man get up, "Merciful Daeus, man! What were you doing!?"

"...erggh..." Younger groans, not moving yet, save one hand that twitches spastically.

Fiona blinks at this and kneels down, “younger.” She says poking his chest lightly. “OH SHIT...ahh ahh...CLERIC!!!!” she screams out and then stops. OH yeah NOW is the time she realizes she is in the part of town where people probably just look the other way to someone falling out of the sky. “SOMEONE GET A CLERIC...” She stops just short of shaking the injured man, apparently that last brain cell of sanity saying don’t move the injured reaches her rational part. “Help..” she offers now looking to Sandy and Jareth. The look on her face, my puppy got run over by a cart...even though she has only met the man once really. Apparently this is what happens when you give a girl booze. She freaks out when you fall off scaffolding.

"...Shaddup..." Younger groans, beginning to flex one arm.

"Work, from the look of the scaffolding," answers Sandy with a sniff. Then she looks up again and then down at Younger, then says, "I'm sure he'll be fine." More nudging the man with his toes. SHe apparently is unconcerned. "Guy's got a hard head." Then she squints a bit more. "Younger. You're fine, right? Because if you're not, I am goiung to punch you really hard in the face."

"Oi'm.... foine." Younger rumbles, rolling over onto his side. His neck cracks loudly in the process, causing him to growl in pain. He opens his eyes, looking around. "Oi'll geddup'n knick ye back if'n ye wanna take a swing't me, missus." He gestures with his hand.
"Oi fuggin' tol' 'em it wouldn' hold..." He explains, "Anyone got ah smoke?"

Fiona jumps at cracking of the neck. “YOU JUST FELL FROM..” She points up. “And you’re not dead..” Fiona moves to start looking him over, though its evident she really doesn’t have any training in this, “YOU should stay where you are until a cleric comes you could be having...”She stops. “You could be really hurt and someone could come and just poke you and then you die.” Fiona knots her brow at him. Her lips purse in that you’re not going to listen to me manner, so it doesn’t matter much really but you could be hurt and or die in your sleep later way. “IF you knew it wasn’t going to hold..” She starts off and sticks her tongue out at him.

"Younger gets hurt all the time. It's what he does, at least according to the stories," says Sandy, aiming to stack so many things atop Jareth that he can no longer contribute meaningfully to the conversation. she mostly succeeds.

Younger glances over at Sandy, unable to focus on her directly. He grumbles, and begins the process of pushing himself up to his knees. "Well, Oi wasnae born'is way, aye."

Fiona blinks at this and moves to offer a hand to him, “Wha..You..” She seems to stutter and glares at the man, “I really think you should be at least looked at by a healer, You could have lasting damage that could come out while...I don’t know when you don’t want it to.” She sighs realizing she probably isn’t going to win without a sap. She looks at Sandy and sighs, “He does this alot. What stories..” She raises an eyebrow, apparently it didn’t occur to her to ask around about Younger...

"Yeah, he's fine," says Sandy with a snort. "Tough old bast ard." Then she squints at Fiona and adds, "He might spit up blood tomorrow from internal damage, but I'm sure he'll be fine." She shuffs, then says to Fiona, "You sound liek you already know him well."

“Not really..just...” Fiona frowns, “Don’t like people getting hurt.” She points out. “If you feel off a roof I would worry about you to.” Fiona, Sandy and Younger are currently in goblin town. Sandy looks to be as if she is buying a ton of items for crafting, while Younger kneels on the ground beside Fiona. Evidence of a great fall upon Younger’s part are seen above him, and supported by a dazed, and flattened look upon the man.

Azog is walking rather than riding, this not being a very horse-accessible area. And he doesn't want to come out of a shop and find his horse up on blocks. Goblins! But the shops sometimes have good deals, and it's a bit cheaper than in some other areas of town. Up where Sandy lives, they charge a lot more for some of the basic necessities. Azog's not too proud to buy cheap, though. Even if goblins /are/ involved. He happens upon the group in his shopping and calls out a greeting. "Hello."

“Who does?" says Sandy, stacking still more thing on Jareth before saying, "Take those away," to him. The warrior does. She then turns towards Fiona and says, "That's good to know. Thankfully, I wouldn't fall off any roofs. Any time soon."

Fiona shrugs as Younger seems to be recovering. As Azog calls out his greeting Fiona turns and her eyes go wide. Bluffing apparently is on the back burner. Her eyes dart to Sandy and then back to Azog, not sure how to reply, though what does one normally say when said hello to, “Um. Hi...” She says quietly.

Azog nods gravely to Fiona, a glance her way before turning on Younger, then Sandy. Younger gets a nod, but he seems to be out of it. Sandy gets a sort of stiff bow, the best he can manage in heavy plate armor. "How are you this evening?"

"Eh. Fine. Shopping. Got an assist with manual labor in the form of Jareth. That worked out pretty well, though he's on his way back now." Sandy peers afte rthe warrior's departure point and then turns back to Fiona. "Who the hell are you, anyways?" She asks.

Its evident that this is Fiona’s first time seeing an Orc, She is snapped out of her daze and blinks at Sandy’s question and ohs. “Right forgot that. Um Fiona...”She motions to the Gambling hall. “Meet Younger in there. He …” She motions to her hand and makes the motion of a knife stabbing between fingers. “Didn’t think I would play afew games of Bishop and I showed him it doesn’t scare me as much as it probably should. You know stabbing your fingers isn’t something sane people offer to do.” She sighs and looks at Azog, “Fiona Eaglehart.” She formally introduces herself. “New...to the city.” Yeah that should explain a lot.

Azog seems surprised at Fiona's discomfiture, though new to the city answers a bit. "You are from The Sticks?" he asks in accented Tradepseak, using the euphamism as if it were the name of some town. "I have heard people from there are unfamiliar with many things here." He nods thoughtfully about shopping. "They sell things for less here than in some areas."
Azog adds, for Fiona, "I am Azog of the Lightning Maul tribe."

"Sandy. Just call me SAndy," says Sandy to Fiona, calmly. Then she goes back to eyeing the stall she was buying things at for a moment. "New, huh? You look new. You've got the look of someone who's about to explode from all the new thinge they're seeing."

Fiona nods with an Mm and relaxes a bit when he seems to understand. “Yeah..well the Vast.” She explains, “We moved around a lot but my interactions were limited.” She explains. She winces at the exploding part. “I really hope I don’t explode.” She says quietly. “that would be really really messy, and I don’t know if a cleric can put that back together.” Fiona nods though, “Yes. its ah..” She motions around, “Very different from what I am used to, still haven’t figured out the city navigation yet.”

Azog advises Fiona in a solemn tone, "Lady Sandy speaks familiarly, but is a person of great honor, and is due great respect from the communmity. You may see some do otherwise in an attempt to set themselves apart or act cool, but those who do so lack honor and are shamed by their actions." He shrugs about getting around the city. “How do you get around the Vast? Or a wood? There are landmarks. It may be a building rather than a mountain, or a smell," he gestures around this neighborhood, "but there are things that let you know where you are."

As Azog declares that, Sandy can be sen to briefly pinch teh bridge of her nose. Just briefly. Then she nods towards Fiona, though, and adds, "You'll do fine. Give it time," she explains.

“Mostly in the back of a wagon.” Fiona offers with a half shrug. “Wait so you like a...Elder...” She asks of Sandy and blushes. “Sorry..I didn’t mean any disrespect I just..” She sighs, “It's been a long week so far.” She offers finally yielding to the fact she probably made herself look like a complete idiot.

Azog agrees with Sandy about it taking time, nodding to Fiona about Sandy being like an elder. "But they have formalized the system of elders here," he explains. "The city is so large, with so many people, that not all can know the whole of those who deserve honor, and their great deeds, so the Chief of the city recognizes people ... er.... officially." The pinched nose draws an expression of concern, but when she says nothing, Azog simply nods and lets her bear her pain privately with honor.

Fiona raises an eyebrow, “but you just want to be called Sandy.” Fiona nods firmly and once at this. IF that is what Sandy wants, its what she will get. “I should get going.” She looks around, “I really do have to get back to the healers. After a boat of...I don’t even know what they were last night, I could use a good ale, and a good bed. Good night..” She offers a small bow to both of them.

Azog nods gravely to Fiona at getting going. "Do what you must," he agrees solemnly. He peers at Sandy, and says, "Yes, there is that as well. But you use the term to denote both people of wisdom, and people who are merely old. But some grow old without wisdom. Not so much where I am from, but in other places, where life is easier."

Young impressionable Youth

2012-11-19T02:35:02Z

Fiona: Created page with "Who: Younger, Fiona What: Younger teaches Fiona how to play Bishop Loud, brassy Gobber music lights up the dank, smoky hall. A pall of cigar smoke hangs near head height, a..."

Who: Younger, Fiona

What: Younger teaches Fiona how to play Bishop

Loud, brassy Gobber music lights up the dank, smoky hall. A pall of cigar smoke hangs near head height, and the din of voices strange and familiar provides a backdrop to the music. Under the smoke, one can smell spicy food and exotic cooking oils. The Gambling Hall is /packed/! Tables are full, Goblins, Arvek Nar, and others, gather in the name of tokens.

Trays of food and drinks somehow make their way across the hall, steadfastly and surprisingly accurate. A Half-Orc lass delivers a heaping dish of food to Younger's table. He sits with a group of foreign mercenaries, gambling on an interesting game; Bishop. A person puts their hands on the table and use a knife, a rather terrifying knife in this case, to tap out an increasingly faster rhytm until one draws blood or loses nerve. An Orc is in the midst of a round; He wears massive platemail and looms over the table. His tapping is surpisingly fast, and the gamblers around him are roaring and throwing money on the table in a crazed frenzy, calling out their bets. The food is ignored.

Making her way into the hall, the young woman seems a bit out of her place, Well out of her element really. She gives a glance around her, pays for the chips, after doing so she makes sure the rest of her money is securely away. Its the game of Bishop that draws her attention. Not to play, oh no, the young woman is just watching for now. Swallowing lightly the young woman lightly flexes one of her hands before burying them into each other, as if to protect herself from the game.

Then there is blood. The Orc knicks the inside of his middle finger, opening it up and instantly creating a hand-shaped pool of blood; it's not the first, either. There are a number of others in various stages of dryness. The Orc howls in pain, also laughing at the same time. Younger croaks out a laugh, the thick cigar of his clenched between his teeth, smoke rolling out with every exhale. Out of nowhere one of the Hall's staff dumps a bucket of water on the tabletop and splashes pink water against all the players and takes a number of coins with it. Everyone groans, and a Goblin sweeps up the winnings, soaked or not. The knife is passed; Younger looks over at Fiona, narrowing his eyes as he appraises her. He grunts and rolls his cigar to the opposite side of his mouth, where he pulls smoke from it a moment. His attention goes to the game once more, where he throws down a number of silver coins and mutters something indecipherable. He looks to Fiona again, sneering, "Ye wanna siddin', Rose?" He asks, gesturing to an open chair. One might notice his crudely bandaged hand.

Fiona lightly swallows and narrows her eyes, attempting to see if she could actually pull off this game. “And if I lose a finger.” She looks around before slipping into the seat. “What are the rules?” Fiona wonders. Fully expecting to get laughed at just a little bit. Her eyes flicker to his bandaged hand and her eyes narrow assessing him a bit.

"At's why dey call it gamblin', Rose." He rumbles, letting smoke roll out of his mouth, as the Mercs laugh out loud. He reaches for a bottle of viscous brown liquid, and takes a long pull. "Da rules is, make yer bet. If'n ye put down when'ee knicks imself, ye take it all." The Goblin's knife tapping is faster now, and the coins start to come in quicker, tinkling and rolling onto the table in errant piles here and there. He smirks, his brutally scarred face twisting stiffly; though he appears a brutish thug, which he no doubt is, his eyes have a certain sharpness, an intelligence. One might not say the same for his tablemates.

Fiona eyes this and nods slowly. “I see.” She states and gives a glance to the others about her before back to Younger. “I see.” She starts to wait for the right moment. After a bit she tosses a coin and then continues to watch. Her eyes watching the Goblin and the knife working, “What if he never knicks himself?” She wonders, “Or if someone from outside interfers?”

Younger laughs, more of a choking noise, "We 'ash it out, aye, der, chaps?" He asks, grinning. His gold tooth glints in the dim light. The foreigners laugh in the sort of knowing manner that usually indicates physical violence; "Moight makes roight, 'n allat, in da abscents'ah rules, aye?" The Goblin is sweating now, his eyes focused on his hand and the knife.

Fiona nods slowly, “I see.” She offers and then moves to toss another coin. A soft smile comes her lips, “But What if they distract them without meaning to.” She motions to the Goblin, “I mean I am talking to you, but what if he starts to listen to me.” She tosses another coin, “and misses. Interference was not intended, but still performed.” Fiona looks to the Younger now and offers him a broad smile. “You make much right, Don’t you?” The young woman asks now and tosses another coin.

Just as she tosses her coin, Fiona wins the pot. As soon as the coin touches the table, the Goblin slips and stabs his hand. He yanks it out and he slaps a dirty rag onto it, screaching loudly. The rest of the table wince, but it doesn't stop some from laughing, one of such slapping the Goblin on the back, talking to him softly in some obscure language. "Yer take, Rose." Younger says, nodding to the table full of coins. He reaches out and grabs the knife, stabbing it into the table's facade near her. "Yer Bishop." He pulls from his cigar as he takes his seat once more, the glow of the cigar and the smoke obscure his face.

“Fiona.” she corrects him as she collects her coins. A glance is given to the knife and then her eyes go to her hands, Attempting to figure out which hand would be the best to use. After collecting her coins, her right hand grabs the knife. Starting out slow, the knife starts to make it around her left hand. “Not Rose.” she winks at Younger.

There is a silence at the table. Safe to say, nobody at the table expected her to go through with it. Younger chuckles, softly, almost incredulously, his eyes following the knife.

The knife starts to go faster. Though its not at the speed of the veteran player. She turns to focus on the knife. Her dexterity is proving to be someone of slight skill as she hasn’t stabbed herself yet. “OH silence for me.” She coaxes as she goes slightly faster.

Her daring paired with her comment cause the table to break out into a roar of laughter, and coins begin to hit the table. A suprising amount of coins. Younger tosses a number of copper into the table, and blows a number of increasingly smaller smoke rings. "Don' cutcherself now." Younger rumbles, in a taunt. He swigs from is bottle of dangerous-looking swill. He hands it off to the Goblin who was just Bishop. He smells it, and wretches slightly, and Younger laughs, "Dringit, dun smell it, ye dafter." Swigs are taken, and Younger snatches the bottle back.

Moving faster yet the rounds go a few more times. Fiona almost gets as fast as the Goblin before SLAM! right into her pinky. For her credit, she doesn’t scream in pain, rather her eyes close and the hand that was on the dagger lets go of it. Shaking it slowly starts to back off, “OOH. That hurts.” She swallows lightly, looking slightly sick to her stomach before biting her lower lip. Its a good cut, nothing that will take her finger off, but it will need to be bandaged. “OH This game is horrible.” She laughs out as she pulls the dagger from the table. Her hand is pulled closer to her body.

The Orc roars with victory! He reaches out and swipes at the coins. Younger slams the bottle down in front of Fiona, "Drink, Rose. Won' be no pain affer tha', naw." He smokes his cigar, pausing a moment. "Jus' a sip. Too much, y'll be sleepin'." He warns. The Orc throws a rag in Fiona's direction, grinning, "You... Brave." He nods once, to finalize it.

“No.” Fiona corrects. “Just stupid.” She states and takes the rag before wrapping her hand. Fiona grabs the bottle and takes a sip as suggested. Choking a bit from it she looks at the bottle to see what it is. “OH..shit...” She licks her lips and looks at Younger, “Gods be...” she motions to the bottle. “What is it?”

Younger nods, "Aye, aye." He agrees with her. "Stupit but entertainin'..." He pulls from his cigar, and grins, "Me fam'ly rec'pe. Li'l tea, some rum, an Soup," Sopor Venenum, the powerful alchemical sleeping agent. His eyes are glazed over from the effects. "It'll getcha."

Fiona nods slightly and pushes it back closer to him, “Remind me to get some for those nights I can’t..” She stops and then lets out a hiccup. “Mm...Raspberry. sleep.” She eyes him and then leans closer. “I do think I missed your name.”

Younger takes the drink, and pulls from it once. "Ye didnae miss it, Oi didnae give it, Rose." He replies, rumbling. "Bruce Da Youngah; If'n ye dun wan' me tah knick ye one on da face or 'ead, ye'll call me Youngah, ya hear?" Bruce The Younger. Alexandrian War Veteran, career criminal, and Sewer Steward. Tales abound. "Are ye lost?"

“Found completely.” Fiona offers with a chuckle. “Younger. Fiona.” She offers no last name and leans back in her seat. A glance is given to the game. She doesn’t seem to react the way most would to hearing his name. Perhaps she really is new to the city. Her hand goes to the injury, squeezing it lightly. “Well Younger, How are you sure that isn’t going to put you to sleep?” She motions to the bottle.

Younger snorts, "Yer not da typical patron, Rose." He offers, and laughs at her question; "Prac'ice. Lotsa prac'ice." The foreigners laugh, and Younger glances at Fiona as he offers it around the table. Defensive hands and shaking heads signal a unanimous 'NO.' He laughs and takes another drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“New.” She offers simply in reply. “Practice.” She eyes the knife, “Like your hand.” Fiona gives a glance to each of the people and then back to Younger, “Fiona.” She presses again, “not Rose. You are going to keep calling me this Rose and soon people are going to think its my name and that isn’t fair to any other woman named Rose.” She sticks her tongue out. “At least it won’t be after I get famous.”

Younger shrugs, "Jus' anovah scar." He pulls from his cigar, "Oi'm made've scars, and piss runs in me veins." He grins, smoke running through his teeth, "Get used tah me doin' what Oi please, cuz there ain' nuffin' ye kin say 'r do tah sway me course, Rose. Dats yer moniker now, ya heard."

Fiona raises an eyebrow at him, “So you name me after a beautiful thing..” She raises an eyebrow, “You sir, have not seen many Tsuran’s have you?” She wonders and leans forward. “I am bud, simply just beginning to bloom. I doubt I have the ability to truly live up to the name.” She smirks and tosses a coin down. “YOu are used to getting your way aren’t you?”

Younger snorts, "Oi named ya, dat bein' dat. Der's more tah dis worl' than ah pre'ee face, Rose." He chokes out a laugh. "Oi met many ah Tsuran, aye. Useless once ye get below da earf." He points downward, into the earth. He nods then, smoking his cigar. He is used to getting his way.

Fiona looks at him and studies him for a long time. “I am named.” She offers an eye roll slightly. “I thought parents were supposed to name the young.” She chuckles and then stops. Her eyes narrow even more at this. She tosses a coin on the table. “Not random men in the bar. How do I know you aren’t some out la..” she stops and looks around, “Never mind.”

Younger laughs out loud, the crazy glint showing in his eye. Shortly thereafter, with some time to translare, the rest of table bursts into laughter, some slapping the table or their knees. The laughing goes on, laughter tears present.

“Well my mother would be happy that I could bring happiness to men in great quantities.” Fiona rolls her eyes and motions to the waitress to bring her an ale. “You can tell them to stop laughing now.” She offers and sticks her tongue out.

Younger pulls from his drink, shrugging, "T'ain't nuffin' Oi could do 'bout it, even if Oi wanned tah." He grins, showing his gold tooth again.

“WEll then. I guess I should listen to the wise words of my father.” Fiona starts and downs the drink that was brought to her. “Leave when you have their money, and never trust a man who calls you Rose.” She stands up and winks at him. “Good day Younger.”

Raising his bottle, Younger laughs, "Your Faver'as woise. Walk safely 'n swif'ly... Rose." He rumbles, nodding his head toward her. Then he's Bishop. Someone stabs the knife into the table in front of him. He chokes out a laugh, pulling the knife from the table top. He glances over toward her one last time before the rhythmic tapping begins...

Ooh its tempting to stay. And she does for a few coins. “Be careful. Fingers are useful.” She offers and moves to head out. Stopping at the door, she peeks back and offers him a wink, attempting to see if it causes him to miss.

It doesn't.[[Category:Log]]

Recent Logs

2012-11-19T02:34:41Z

Fiona: /* Our Logs */

[[Category:Logs]]
Roleplay is central to Tenebrae, and consists of a mix of scenes, grid, and PrPs. Here you may read some of the logs our players have posted, or wanted to share. This page may also be used to post logs for PrPs, to share an item for staff review, or to tell players about a great scene. Remember too, if you're RPing in a public area, a log may end up on this site. Most recent logs are at the '''bottom.'''

==How to Post a Log==
{{TableMain}}
{{T01}}
| colspan="2" | Log Help
{{T02}}
|I Need Help With...
|Look Here
|-
|Posting a log
|[[How to Post a Log]]
|-
|Wiki formatting
|'''[[How to Format a Log Quickly|How to Automagically Clean a Log]]''', [[Help:Editing#Formatting|Wiki Help]]
|-
|Finding a PrP template
|[[PrP Template]]
|-
|Finding what goes in a PrP log
|[[Player_Run_Plots#Sending_in_a_Finished_PrP|Submitting PrPs]]
|-
|Finding logs from the old website
|[http://emblemofea.pbworks.com/w/page/12036798/Game-Logs The Old Site]
|}

==Our Logs==
{{TableMain}}
{{T02}}
|Date
|Log
|People
|-
|
|[[A Duel!]]
|
|-
|
|[[How to Smite with a Poo Cart]]
|
|-
|
|[[Crusaders, Start Your Engines!]]
|
|-
|
|[[Adamantine Tinkering]]
|
|-
|
|[[Storytime in the Dragon's Den]]
|
|-
|
|[[Adamantine Hunt]]
|
|-
|Aug 6 2012
|[[PRP: Unbearable]]
|[[Constantin]], [[Nadara]], [[Leisel]], [[Quint]], [[Dante]], [[Jibbom]]
|-
|Aug 7 2012
|[[A Formal Complaint]]
|[[Donk]], [[Dante]]
|-
|Aug 7, 2012
|[[The Overturned Cart]]
| [[Kalkorth]], [[Constantin]], [[Donk]], [[Emir]], [[Trank]], [[Svarshan]], [[Myrana]], [[Eira]]
|-
|Aug 8, 2012
|[[Felicia's Very Sandy Birthday Party]]
|[[Emir]], [[Svarshan]], [[Mikilos]], [[Katja]], [[Sandy]]
|-
|Aug ?, 2012
|[[Fox Ears for Azog]]
|[[Azog]], [[Abrahil]], [[Myrana]], [[Kalkorth]], [[Conrad]], [[Garrin]]
|-
|Aug 9, 2012
|[[Raising Halani]]
|[[Halani]], [[Kerbasy]], [[Craft]], [[Jinks]]
|-
|Aug 22, 2012
|[[Wanted Posters]]
|[[Abrahil]], [[Sandy]], [[Myrana]]
|-
|Aug 14, 2012
|[[Sildanyari do Not Birth Gnomes]]
|[[Jibbom]], [[Rotgut]], [[Faun]], [[Boshter]], [[Cesran]], [[Ormarr]], [[Mikilos]]
|-
|August 23, 2012
|[[A Tea Cart]]
|[[Svarshan]], [[Jibbom]], [[Azog]], [[Sandy]], [[Mikilos]], [[Lumina]], [[Moonshadow]]
|-
|August 25, 2012
|[[Moonwatching]]
|[[Kama'o]], [[Mikilos]], [[Colrick]], [[Locien]], [[Usha]], [[Constantin]]
|-
|August 31, 2012
|[[Prancing Poncy Swiftclaws]]
|[[Jibbom]], [[Sandy]], [[Lumina]], [[Svarshan]], [[Locien]]
|-
|September 1, 2012
|[[Dastardly Dealings]]
|[[Jibbom]], [[Mikilos]]
|-
|September 3, 2012
|[[PRP: Catacombs Kidnapping]]
|[[Sonja]], [[Grunak]], [[Colrick]], [[Seadhna]], [[Jibbom]], [[Kathryn]]
|-
|September 4, 2012
|[[Social: BAD DOG!]]
|[[Kama'o]], [[Moonshadow]], [[Nadara]], [[Lumina]], [[Ashlynn]]
|-
|September 5, 2012
|[[PRP: The Laughing Anna]]
|[[Moonshadow]], [[Munch]], [[Seadhna]], [[Zarr]]
|-
|September 6, 2012
|[[The Best Medicine]]
|[[Jibbom]], [[Lumina]], [[Savannah]], [[Boshter]], [[Zalara]], [[Mikilos]]
|-
|September 8, 2012
|[[Social: Hangover]]
|[[Kama'o]], [[Teppus]], [[Chloe]], [[Lumina]], [[Donk]]
|-
|Sept 13, 2012
|[[Muse of Doom]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Azog]], [[Jessa]], [[Zalara]], [[Quint]], [[Svarshan]], [[Chloe]]
|-
|Sept 14, 2012
|[[Career Day]]
|[[Ormarr|Wonderpony]], [[Jessa]], [[Mikilos]], [[Angrid]], [[Zalara]], [[Constantin]]
|-
|Sept 15, 2012
|[[PrP: Sanctuary Cleansing]]
|[[Jessa]], [[Melbert]]
|-
|September 15, 2012
|[[Not Yet a Knight]]
|[[Kerbasy]], [[Jareth]], [[Azog]], [[Cesran]], [[Mikilos]]
|-
|September 15, 2012
|[[Double Rainbow Man (Again)]]
|[[Svarshan]], [[Agril]], [[Jessa]], [[Constantin]], [[Selia]], [[Younger]]
|-
|Sept 16, 2012
|[[Coyote Meets Phoenix]]
|[[Jibbom]], [[Jessa]]
|-
|September 17, 2012
|[[Younger's Busted Leg]]
|[[Abrahil]], [[Younger]], [[Jessa]], [[Munch]], [[Chloe]], [[Lumina]]
|-
|September 18, 2012
|[[Thrax]]
|[[Savannah]], [[Jibbom]], [[Cesran]], [[Mikilos]]
|-
|Sept 25, 2012
|[[Hip-pest Reaction]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Zalara]], [[Jessa]], [[Moonshadow]], [[Ellerela]]
|-
|October 13, 2012
|[[Shamblers in the Woods]]
|[[Svarshan]], [[Leisel]]
|-
|October 15, 2012
|[[Clara the Lance]]
|[[Cinnamon]], [[Kerbasy]]
|-
|October 16, 2012
|[[Sandy is a Dandy]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Kerbasy]], [[Jinks]], [[Constantin]], [[Arissa]]
|-
|October 17, 2012
|[[Tent Fires]]
|[[Myrana]], [[Svarshan]]
|-
|October 17, 2012
|[[The Statues]]
|[[Eleia]], [[Kerbasy]], [[Boshter]]
|-
|October 19, 2012
|[[Challenge Beyond Our Means]]
|[[Albain]], [[Craft]], [[Svarshan]]
|-
|October 26, 2012
|[[Kittens Jessa Kittens|Kittens, Jessa, Kittens!]]
|[[Quint]], [[Jessa]], [[Sandy]], [[Svarshan]], [[Cesran]],
|-
|October 27, 2012
|[[There Can be Only One Pretty Pretty Princess|There Can be Only One (Pretty Pretty Princess)]]
| [[Azog]], [[Cinnamon]], [[Sandy]], [[Constantin]], [[Svarshan]]
|-
|Unknown
|[[Giant Pink Hips]]
|[[Gragnar]], [[Jessa]], [[Svarshan]], [[Sandy]], [[Jibbom]], [[Emir]]
|-
|November 11, 2012
|[[Coming to Alexandria]]
|[[Fiona]], [[Cesran]]
|-
|November 11, 2012
|[[Young impressionable Youth]]
|[[Younger]], [[Fiona]]
|-
|November 13, 2012
|[[Till Death Do us Part]]
|[[Mel]], [[Ashlynn]], [[Zalara]], [[Eliathitae]], [[Fiona]]
|-
|November 14, 2012
|[[Goblintown]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Jareth]], [[Younger]], [[Fiona]]
|-
|November 16, 2012
|[[A Land Down Under]]
|[[Hilal]], [[Gavisa]],[[Mel]], [[Vennan]],[[ Angrid]], [[Zalara]],[[ Fiona]],[[ Jessa]]
|-
|November 17, 2012
|[[Once Upon a Jail Cell]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Myrana]], [[Svarshan]], [[Fiona]], [[Eliathitae]], [[Selia]]
|}

Coming to Alexandria

2012-11-19T02:27:41Z

Fiona: Created page with "Who: Cesran, Fiona What: Fiona comes to town and meets Cesran at a local Inn. Cesran is sitting at a table by the fire reading a book. He's trying to keep as warm as possib..."

Who: Cesran, Fiona

What: Fiona comes to town and meets Cesran at a local Inn.

Cesran is sitting at a table by the fire reading a book. He's trying to keep as warm as possible as he dislikes the cold Alexandria winters. It's midmorning and he's all ready had some breakfast.

New! Exciting! Almost nothing like the rumors in the merchant caravan’s said! But what more can Fiona really hope for. Apparently in her small, megar, travels the young woman is learning simply that one city is like the eachother city. Stepping into the pub, a quick glance is given to the world about her and then settles upon the fireplace. Moving slowly she stops in front of the fire to warm her fingers. A soft, polite smile is offered to Cesran as she attempts to pilfer some of the warmth into her body.

Cesran looks up as he notices the new person coming in. He looks Fiona over and gives her a polite smile, "Good morning. Can't stand the cold either?"

A soft chuckle comes from her chest. Its full, rich, “Nay.” she replies. Her voice is a soft alto, though nothing one would remember for a long time. Turning to look at the man who spoke, her smile turns a bit brighter on her plain face. “I am from the Vast.” she offers as a way of explanation. “I guess I shall have to get used to it.”

Cesran smiles back as his voice is a deep bass voice, "Ah yes I've read about the Vast." He takes a moment to try to remember, "Also known as the Great Plains of Arcana. Very magical." He smiles, "I'm Cesran I come from the Jade Islands, a very tropical environment."

Fiona takes a moment to look at the man and nods with a smile, “Yes.” She answers and moves to sit on the edge of the hearth. “Sand, sun, and many interesting people.” A shrug is given to the magical remark. “Fiona.” She offers her name in reply to his introduction. “I haven’t heard of the Jade Islands, What are they like?” She pauses and shakes her head, “Well other than tropical...”

Cesran smiles, "Depends on where you live, I grew up in one of the trading cities. It's very nice nice there, although there are others who lived in the jungles. Most of my time was spent in the Academy of Sages learning and training on how to use magic."

“Ah.” The smile is gone from Fiona’s face. “My mother tried to teach me magic.” She looks almost embarrassed. “It didn’t work out too well.” The sentence trails off before Fiona suddenly picks up with; “I can use scrolls and wands.” Its almost defensive on how she says it, “But it doesn’t run through me as it would a sorcerer or wizard.” She explains. “I really can’t sit still long enough to learn the spells.” Fiona offers a shrug and smiles. “Is that what you do here?” She motions around them. “Well not here at the pub, but here in the city. Learn how to use magic?”

Cesran nods, "It's all right some people have the talent for it, some have other talents in other areas, like being able to expertly swing a sword or being able to sneak around. Ah well to be a sorcerer it has to be in your blood, a rather lazy way to do magic if you ask me, but their talents can't be denied."

Cesran smiles, "I come here to eat, but yes for the city I did come here to learn and to try to help re-establish the Academy of Sages. Unfortunately that has failed as the Society for Progressive Arcanists had all ready done much of the legwork so I've become an adventurer. Although I still hope to establish myself in the Society."

“I am not fully sure where my talents lie. I just know what my father taught me.” Fiona offers and then waves over a waitress. Hot tea, with a bit of honey and some biscuits are ordered before she turns back to her conversation mate. “How long have you been here? You seem to have done a lot of work.” She offers, “Who are the Society of Progressive Arcanists?” Fiona leans a bit closer. “Mages?” She almost seems enthralled with the idea. “I saw a mage one, he was an elemental specialist of fire. At least that is what he said he was...” She shrugs. “I just saw him light a bunch of bandits on fire and made them all run...”

Cesran ahs, "Well I'm sure that you'll find your way. I've been in the city for about a year and a half. Well I joined the Explorer's Guild, if you are an adventurer that is where you want to go for jobs." He nods, "Wizards, Sorcerers and even." He rolls his eyes, "Artificers. Well that's one way to deal with bandits...I am an envoker myself so I do tend to specialize in battle field magic."

Fiona nodded slowly and offered a huge smile to the server as her tea is brought, “I joined that when I arrived here last night.” She states simply and sips the tea softly. The look of relaxation comes to her face as the warmth spreads inwards. “The merchant that brought me suggested it as a way to make a living. I can’t just keep going back and forth with him all the time. He doesn’t have enough money to pay me.” Fiona beamed. “Battle field magic?” Her head tilts at this. “I didn’t realize there was different types of magic.”

Cesran nods, "There are seven different schools of magic, evocation is one of them that I specialize in. It's mostly spells that can be used to hurt others, but there are also some spells that allow you to create something out of magic." He smiles, "Well that's good perhaps we'll adventure together once you've become more experienced."

“Mayhaps.” Fiona offers as she smothers the biscuit with a generous amount of butter, “I am hoping to get a lot of work.” she states simply. “Its not that I need the money. I just hate being bored. When I get bored I get into trouble, and I really rather not get into trouble.” She gives a glance around. “I heard SO much about this city, and worked hard to get here; I rather not get kicked out.”

Cesran nods, "This city does have an interesting history, more so than almost any other city." He nods, "I can understand that, fortunately the libraries and my own research keep me busy between adventures so I'm never at a shortage of work."

Fiona blinks as if she is thinking hard about something, “The library.” its as if this thought never dawned on her. “Where is it?” She beams lightly. “If I could learn more about the city, I might not have to wait for people to hire me.” She explains, “Maybe I could find some treasure that is long lost or something...You sir, Are brilliant.”

Cesran hmms, "Well there are a couple, there is one in the University district, some temples have their own libraries and there is one in the Academy of Sages. So you have plenty to pick from. I'd say you go to the one in the University district if you are interested in general information in the city." He smiles, "But of course."

Fiona looks at him an narrows her eyes with a bit of mirth. “Humble.” She states with a wink. “The university district.” She makes a note mentally and her eyes flicker with mischief, “Last time I was in a temple, it was a mistake. We stopped to sleep for the night, and were attacked by something that should have been dead.” She shrugs. “Though I doubt that would happen here...” She points out and then winks at him, “I should go.” She stands up and pulls out a few coins before downing her tea. A wince crosses her face, “Hot..” she licks her lips, “Forgot..” Fiona shakes her head and smiles to Cesran, “I should go see what work I can find before it gets to late in the day. Mayhaps check out the libraries. Hopefully we meet again.” She offers a soft bow to him and a beaming smile.

Cesran hmms, "Really what temple was that? Usually the undead try to avoid clerics. Good luck. I'm sure I'll see you around."

Fiona shrugs, “I don’t know, But that.” She points at him, “I will remember. Travel with a cleric, Holy men the dead do not like.” She points to her head. “Good to know. SEe you around..” And with that she slips out the door.

Recent Logs

2012-11-19T02:26:55Z

Fiona: /* Our Logs */

[[Category:Logs]]
Roleplay is central to Tenebrae, and consists of a mix of scenes, grid, and PrPs. Here you may read some of the logs our players have posted, or wanted to share. This page may also be used to post logs for PrPs, to share an item for staff review, or to tell players about a great scene. Remember too, if you're RPing in a public area, a log may end up on this site. Most recent logs are at the '''bottom.'''

==How to Post a Log==
{{TableMain}}
{{T01}}
| colspan="2" | Log Help
{{T02}}
|I Need Help With...
|Look Here
|-
|Posting a log
|[[How to Post a Log]]
|-
|Wiki formatting
|'''[[How to Format a Log Quickly|How to Automagically Clean a Log]]''', [[Help:Editing#Formatting|Wiki Help]]
|-
|Finding a PrP template
|[[PrP Template]]
|-
|Finding what goes in a PrP log
|[[Player_Run_Plots#Sending_in_a_Finished_PrP|Submitting PrPs]]
|-
|Finding logs from the old website
|[http://emblemofea.pbworks.com/w/page/12036798/Game-Logs The Old Site]
|}

==Our Logs==
{{TableMain}}
{{T02}}
|Date
|Log
|People
|-
|
|[[A Duel!]]
|
|-
|
|[[How to Smite with a Poo Cart]]
|
|-
|
|[[Crusaders, Start Your Engines!]]
|
|-
|
|[[Adamantine Tinkering]]
|
|-
|
|[[Storytime in the Dragon's Den]]
|
|-
|
|[[Adamantine Hunt]]
|
|-
|Aug 6 2012
|[[PRP: Unbearable]]
|[[Constantin]], [[Nadara]], [[Leisel]], [[Quint]], [[Dante]], [[Jibbom]]
|-
|Aug 7 2012
|[[A Formal Complaint]]
|[[Donk]], [[Dante]]
|-
|Aug 7, 2012
|[[The Overturned Cart]]
| [[Kalkorth]], [[Constantin]], [[Donk]], [[Emir]], [[Trank]], [[Svarshan]], [[Myrana]], [[Eira]]
|-
|Aug 8, 2012
|[[Felicia's Very Sandy Birthday Party]]
|[[Emir]], [[Svarshan]], [[Mikilos]], [[Katja]], [[Sandy]]
|-
|Aug ?, 2012
|[[Fox Ears for Azog]]
|[[Azog]], [[Abrahil]], [[Myrana]], [[Kalkorth]], [[Conrad]], [[Garrin]]
|-
|Aug 9, 2012
|[[Raising Halani]]
|[[Halani]], [[Kerbasy]], [[Craft]], [[Jinks]]
|-
|Aug 22, 2012
|[[Wanted Posters]]
|[[Abrahil]], [[Sandy]], [[Myrana]]
|-
|Aug 14, 2012
|[[Sildanyari do Not Birth Gnomes]]
|[[Jibbom]], [[Rotgut]], [[Faun]], [[Boshter]], [[Cesran]], [[Ormarr]], [[Mikilos]]
|-
|August 23, 2012
|[[A Tea Cart]]
|[[Svarshan]], [[Jibbom]], [[Azog]], [[Sandy]], [[Mikilos]], [[Lumina]], [[Moonshadow]]
|-
|August 25, 2012
|[[Moonwatching]]
|[[Kama'o]], [[Mikilos]], [[Colrick]], [[Locien]], [[Usha]], [[Constantin]]
|-
|August 31, 2012
|[[Prancing Poncy Swiftclaws]]
|[[Jibbom]], [[Sandy]], [[Lumina]], [[Svarshan]], [[Locien]]
|-
|September 1, 2012
|[[Dastardly Dealings]]
|[[Jibbom]], [[Mikilos]]
|-
|September 3, 2012
|[[PRP: Catacombs Kidnapping]]
|[[Sonja]], [[Grunak]], [[Colrick]], [[Seadhna]], [[Jibbom]], [[Kathryn]]
|-
|September 4, 2012
|[[Social: BAD DOG!]]
|[[Kama'o]], [[Moonshadow]], [[Nadara]], [[Lumina]], [[Ashlynn]]
|-
|September 5, 2012
|[[PRP: The Laughing Anna]]
|[[Moonshadow]], [[Munch]], [[Seadhna]], [[Zarr]]
|-
|September 6, 2012
|[[The Best Medicine]]
|[[Jibbom]], [[Lumina]], [[Savannah]], [[Boshter]], [[Zalara]], [[Mikilos]]
|-
|September 8, 2012
|[[Social: Hangover]]
|[[Kama'o]], [[Teppus]], [[Chloe]], [[Lumina]], [[Donk]]
|-
|Sept 13, 2012
|[[Muse of Doom]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Azog]], [[Jessa]], [[Zalara]], [[Quint]], [[Svarshan]], [[Chloe]]
|-
|Sept 14, 2012
|[[Career Day]]
|[[Ormarr|Wonderpony]], [[Jessa]], [[Mikilos]], [[Angrid]], [[Zalara]], [[Constantin]]
|-
|Sept 15, 2012
|[[PrP: Sanctuary Cleansing]]
|[[Jessa]], [[Melbert]]
|-
|September 15, 2012
|[[Not Yet a Knight]]
|[[Kerbasy]], [[Jareth]], [[Azog]], [[Cesran]], [[Mikilos]]
|-
|September 15, 2012
|[[Double Rainbow Man (Again)]]
|[[Svarshan]], [[Agril]], [[Jessa]], [[Constantin]], [[Selia]], [[Younger]]
|-
|Sept 16, 2012
|[[Coyote Meets Phoenix]]
|[[Jibbom]], [[Jessa]]
|-
|September 17, 2012
|[[Younger's Busted Leg]]
|[[Abrahil]], [[Younger]], [[Jessa]], [[Munch]], [[Chloe]], [[Lumina]]
|-
|September 18, 2012
|[[Thrax]]
|[[Savannah]], [[Jibbom]], [[Cesran]], [[Mikilos]]
|-
|Sept 25, 2012
|[[Hip-pest Reaction]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Zalara]], [[Jessa]], [[Moonshadow]], [[Ellerela]]
|-
|October 13, 2012
|[[Shamblers in the Woods]]
|[[Svarshan]], [[Leisel]]
|-
|October 15, 2012
|[[Clara the Lance]]
|[[Cinnamon]], [[Kerbasy]]
|-
|October 16, 2012
|[[Sandy is a Dandy]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Kerbasy]], [[Jinks]], [[Constantin]], [[Arissa]]
|-
|October 17, 2012
|[[Tent Fires]]
|[[Myrana]], [[Svarshan]]
|-
|October 17, 2012
|[[The Statues]]
|[[Eleia]], [[Kerbasy]], [[Boshter]]
|-
|October 19, 2012
|[[Challenge Beyond Our Means]]
|[[Albain]], [[Craft]], [[Svarshan]]
|-
|October 26, 2012
|[[Kittens Jessa Kittens|Kittens, Jessa, Kittens!]]
|[[Quint]], [[Jessa]], [[Sandy]], [[Svarshan]], [[Cesran]],
|-
|October 27, 2012
|[[There Can be Only One Pretty Pretty Princess|There Can be Only One (Pretty Pretty Princess)]]
| [[Azog]], [[Cinnamon]], [[Sandy]], [[Constantin]], [[Svarshan]]
|-
|Unknown
|[[Giant Pink Hips]]
|[[Gragnar]], [[Jessa]], [[Svarshan]], [[Sandy]], [[Jibbom]], [[Emir]]
|-
|November 11, 2012
|[[Coming to Alexandria]]
|[[Fiona]], [[Cesran]]
|-
|November 13, 2012
|[[Till Death Do us Part]]
|[[Mel]], [[Ashlynn]], [[Zalara]], [[Eliathitae]], [[Fiona]]
|-
|November 16, 2012
|[[A Land Down Under]]
|[[Hilal]], [[Gavisa]],[[Mel]], [[Vennan]],[[ Angrid]], [[Zalara]],[[ Fiona]],[[ Jessa]]
|-
|November 17, 2012
|[[Once Upon a Jail Cell]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Myrana]], [[Svarshan]], [[Fiona]], [[Eliathitae]], [[Selia]]
|}

Fiona

2012-11-19T02:09:59Z

Fiona: /* Role Play! */

Fiona

2012-11-19T02:09:20Z

Fiona: /* Logs */

Fiona

2012-11-19T02:08:28Z

Fiona: /* Staff Plots */

New to the town. Fiona is still making her name in the Explorer's guild. She has been in several missions for the explorer's guild so far!

=Logs=
Fiona has been on several adventures of different types so far! Over all, she has meet some interesting people and done some interesting things in her short time. Nor can she wait to do even more!
==Staff Plots ==
{{TableMain}}
{{T02}}
|Date
|Log
|People
|-
||November 13, 2012
|[[Till Death Do us Part]]
|[[Mel]], [[Ashlynn]], [[Zalara]], [[Eliathitae]], [[Fiona]]
|-
|November 16, 2012
|[[A Land Down Under]]
|[[Hilal]], [[Gavisa]],[[Mel]], [[Vennan]],[[ Angrid]], [[Zalara]],[[ Fiona]],[[ Jessa]]
|-
|November 17, 2012
|[[Once Upon a Jail Cell]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Myrana]], [[Svarshan]], [[Fiona]], [[Eliathitae]], [[Selia]]
|}

[[Category:Player]]

Fiona

2012-11-19T02:05:00Z

Fiona: /* Logs */

Fiona

2012-11-19T01:49:23Z

Fiona: Created page with "New to the town. Fiona is still making her name in the Explorer's guild. She has been in several missions for the explorer's guild so far! =Logs= ==Staff Plots == [[Till Deat..."

New to the town. Fiona is still making her name in the Explorer's guild. She has been in several missions for the explorer's guild so far!

=Logs=
==Staff Plots ==
[[Till Death Do us Part]]
[[A Land Down Under]][[Category:Characters]][[Category:Characters]]

Till Death Do us Part

2012-11-19T01:44:16Z

Fiona:

'''Players''': Mel, Ashlynn, Zalara, Eliathitae, Fiona

'''Title''': Till Death Do Us Part

'''Summary''':The Adventurers of the Explorer's Guild are called upon to solve an unusual marital dispute.

'''Log''':

You've all answered a posting at the Explorer's Guild calling for a small group of adventurers, instructing interested parties to assemble in one of the guild's meeting rooms for further instructions. The group's client, an older woman of obvious Veyshanti ancestry, sits by the meeting room's large table. She's dressed head to toe in black clothing, and appears rather distraught. She keeps dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief as she awaits the adventurers.

Mel files into the room, looks up to see the distraught woman, and bows his head respectfully before taking one of the open seats. "Hello, ma'am," he says quietly, settling himself.

Fiona makes her way into the room at the appointed time and gives a look around. Refusing to give up her cloak in these chilly days, she pulls it tight to herself as she looks over the woman in the dark clothing. Saying nothing she sinks down into the seat, and then as if an after thought to not be rude she mutters a greeting similar to Mels. “Hello...” Her lower lip is bitten as she takes in the woman’s attire and then looks over to the man she knows little about and shrugs and then nods to the woman. Confusion maybe, or maybe the nonverbal question of, is this who we are supposed to meet?

Zalara comes in to the room as she signed up for it this morning. She gives a nod to the woman, "Hello there." She gives a smile before she goes tos it down and she nods to Fiona, "Hello I'm Zalara Copperbottom, artificer."

Eliathitae enters the room quietly. Her blue robe does prevent a lot of the metal from clinking against other metal, but the creaking of leather makes her anything but silent. She pauses at the black dressing of the Veyshanti woman, but does nothing beyond nod courteously and offer a small, "Good day, m'lady," after seating herself. The blue eyes of the coppery-blond llyranesi do not leave the Veyshanti's face for longer than a few moments.

Cluthing the slip of paper advertising the job in one hand, Ashlynn marches more than walks into the room with that determined frown she always tends to wear. Not her usual style of accepted application, for sure, but there she is nonetheless. Her head is bowed and eyes downcast as gesture of respect to the employer upon notice of the way the Veyshanti is dressed - a guess made at the reasons, considering what the Guild paperwork mentioned. She does not seat herself quite yet.

The Veyshanti woman sniffles, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief once more before looking up at the adventurers who have filed into the room. "Ah, hello. Thank you all for coming." Her accent is an immediate giveaway that she is probably a somewhat recent arrival to the city. "My name is Ferah Rashidin. I have a task I need handled, and I am told that your Guild has experience with matters of this nature." She seems uncertain exactly how to phrase what she says, hesitating for a moment. "There is a ship which plans to leave for Tashraan later this evening. Men have taken my husband on board. I need you to stop this."

Zalara frowns, "Why did they take your husband? What does the ship look like? Does it have a name?" She asks as she starts to check to make sure she has all her contraptions.

Blinking that she is addressed, Fiona offers a nod. “Fiona Eaglehart.” She offers an introduction back. “Ah I ...don’t really have a profession to speak of.” At least not one that is formal. When the woman starts to speak, Fiona gives her all of her attention. Blinking slowly the woman tilts her head. “Very good questions, I didn’t think men got kidnapped though.” the Tsuran continues quietly. “How have they taken your husband? Does he consent to going with them?”

Mel runs a hand through his short hair as he listens to the mission. "I have to ask this, ma'am, because of some confusion before," he begins, his tone hesitant. "Is your husband going along willingly and you want him brought back whether he wants to or not? Or has he actually been kidnapped?" As the names go around, he introduces himself, "Er, just Mel."

Eliathitae is suddenly taken in by the Veyshanti woman's story, not really noticing that the group is taking the time to introduce one another. She reaches her blue gloved hand across the table towards the woman in black's. Elly makes no attempt to take the hand or even touch the woman, just a silent offering of simple tactile comfort and reassurance. The look on the elf's face is one of rather genuine concern.

Ferah looks uncertain how to answer some of the questions being asked, especially the ones about her husband's willingness to be on the ship. "My husband, he... that is to say... he passed away last week." She says, with a very sad expression, reaching for her handkerchief again. "He was a trader. Very successful, sold Veyshanti spices here. The men who took him, they are from his tribe. They want to inherit his profits. I think they plan to do... unwise things to achieve that. They are on a ship called the Marid's Dance. All I wish is for you to return my husband."

Glancing amongst her companions for a moment, Ashlynn settles into a chair in somewhat awkward fashion, where she proceeds to sit in a manner that suggests her spine may not be entirely mobile. Well, either that, or that she's trying to stand at attention while seated.

Her words aren't exactly needed - the relevant questions are being asked by her companions - and so she simply sits there, tight-lipped, listening and churning the information over. The frown remains. It's a fixture.

Fiona blinks at this and then looks at the others, “I would say that is stealing then.” She offers as she blinks lightly. “well I do believe its safe to say his consent won’t be required.” Fiona offers to the others in the group with a weary smile. “ A nervous chuckle is given out. “What..um...What does his casket look like?” Fiona offers, “It might not be the only one on the ship, if they are partial to stealing bodies of persons...”

Eliathitae straightens her already fairly straight posture when the truth of the husband's status comes out. "I-I am so sorry for your loss, Lady Rashidin," offers the sildanyar finally. Elly, being new, leaves it to the others to ask questions and agree to anything. The jurisdiction of the Explorer's Guild is still foreign to her.

Mel ahhhhs, nods slowly, smirking at Fiona's remark. "You want us to bring back his body?" he asks the client, his tone businesslike. "You should have said. That's different." He nods as we're given the ship name, and says, "I'll help. It's not right, taking a man's body to do ... whatever it is they want to do. Bodysnatching's never good. Do you know much about the people besides the name of the ship?" he wonders.

Blinking in slight confusion, Ashlynn's frown grows just a little deeper as Ferah unfolds the story. "Do they have legal right to claim the body?" she speaks finally - doing so after a pause, as if meticulously picking words. A glance is given to the others here for the job, but that is all, for the moment.

Zalara bows her head, "I'm sorry for your lose. Why do they need his body? Shouldn't his inheritance go to his son or something like that?" She asks as she's not sure about the legal ramifications.

"Thank you." Ferah replies quietly to Eliathitae, with genuine gratitude breaking through her grief for a moment. "... The keepers of your city graves said they found the vessel he was to be buried in empty. I had my suspicions immediately, and I spoke to those he sailed with. There is no doubt that they've taken him to their ship and plan to depart in hours." She hesitates again before speaking to Ashlynn. "I... this is difficult to explain. I believe those of his tribe would feel they are justified in doing what they are doing. But he was my husband. I believe your city's laws would not allow this." She retrieves a small slip of paper which she holds out. "I have here the number of the dock where they are berthed. Is there... anything else I need to tell you?" She gives Zalara a long look, nervous again. "... Our customs are very different from yours. If they intend what I believe they intend... nevermind. All that is important is that he is retrieved."

A head tilt, bringing a small crack of the neck from Fiona and then looking from the others in her group for this task to the employer again. “How...” she starts to ask but drifts off as her question is asked and answered. Its obvious that was meant more as an internal question, but its out there now. But now, without a casket to carry the body in Fiona actually grimaces slightly. “OH..” Her lips her pursed, eyes lightly wide as she looks to the others in the group. “The number of the dock would be good..”She says attempting to regain her composure.

"Then I shall help detain them until the matter is sorted." Ashlynn decides after receiving her answer, standing up from the chair and straightening out. That's good enough for her, it seems. Weapons are settled back into place expeditiously.

Mel nods gravely about departing in hours, and says, "I suppose we'd better get a move on, then. We don't want to get there only to see them pulling away." He looks around to the other adventurers, rises from his seat as well.

Eliathitae, given that her first and only excursion on behalf of the Guild of Explorers involved entering into a house in which the house and its normally inanimate furniture and accroutements decided to attack the group, is a bit wary of what precisely the men in question aboard the Marid's Dance intend to do with such a body. It could be anything. Elly looks thoughtful and then sorrowful as she sighs, "In Alexandria, the body of a husband or wife should be the jurisdiction of the next of kin, the widow or widower, as far as I know. But, Lady Rashidin, you are not from here. And you say you know his tribe feels justified. I understand how you feel, and truly feel for your loss of your husband." Her hand is still across the table should Ferah feel a need for it.

"I know it is hard, but can you tell me what these men intend to do?"

Ferah sniffles a little, hesitating to answer Eliathitae. She does so in a quiet voice. "They have brought a wizard with them. My husband was kin to their chief. In the past, they have sometimes... used magic to prolong life unnaturally, when it is to their benefit. I do not wish to see that happen." She dabs her eyes again. "Now please, if there is nothing else... I wish to be alone."

Zalara frowns a bit as she hears this and she nods a little bit, "Thanks for the information. We'll do our best to get your husbands remains back.

Eliathitae has her brow deeply creased, giving the Veyshanti woman a small if sad smile. "Thank you, Lady Rashidin. I am sorry I had to ask such a difficult question. My name is Eliathitae, or just Elly, by the way." She pauses for a moment and, should the woman in black do nothing and say nothing as she has already suggested she would prefer loneliness, the llyranesi will stand and begin to leave the woman to her solitude.

And so, after making whatever preparations the group wanted to make, they make their way to the docks. It's just a little before sundown by now, and most of the dockhands have finished their duties for the day and have wandered off to the nearest tavern. However, the dock they've been directed to remains abuzz with activity. The Marid's Dance is an impressively sized merchant vessel, with three masts and a large frame which can hold quite a bit of cargo. Dockhands are loading crates up a gangplank while sailors, most of whom look to be Veyshanti, make preparations to cast off. Two large Veyshanti men stand near the gangplank, watching the workers as they load up the ship.

Zalara whistles a little bit as she sees the big ship. "This might be harder than we thought." She eyes the two large men standing near the gangplank. "Hmmm, so how do we find the body?"

�
Eliathitae murmurs, "There's something wrong about this. Yes, the husband's body is hers by Alexandrian law. Yes, I feel for the Lady Rashidin. But . . ." The llyranesi does not offer any further insight into her thoughts, furrowing her brow as she too notes the two guards, looking thoughtful.

Mel shrugs to Zalara, and says quietly to the group as we approach the ship, "So how does this work, do we just go up and demand him back? Tell them we've got a writ from the Explorers' Guild? We -could- ask, I think. Or ...?" he trails off uncertainly.

Fiona matches the whistle Zalara lets out. “I think we might have to search.” She offers in reply not so helpfully. “We could always ask them if they have seen any dead bodies lately. Maybe they don’t like them and are willing to help. I can’t imagine he is going to smell all that wonderful...I don’t know if I would want to be trapped on a ship with that.” Looking to Eliathitae, “Well when have you ever known someone to agree to allowing you to have the body of a loved one.” She shrugs. “Um...we can...” She shrugs. “Rum?” She offers and looks at the group.

Having introduced herself to those of her companions she is not familiar with (which, in this case, is most) as Ashlynn, of Gilead's Order of the Silver Arrow, the aforementioned has remained silent during their trek and come to carry an even deeper frown at Elly's sharing of the widow's confession. She's quite displeased about that particular prospect.

"Perhaps they will cooperate." Ashlynn says. There's a certain flatness to her tone, but even she doesn't believe that'll be how things go when individuals willing to employ a necromancer are involved.

Eliathitae looks at the others assembled. "I can try speaking to them, saying that we've heard word that a body has been reported somewhere upon these docks and that the Mourners seek it, but such would alert them?"

Zalara hmms as she looks around, "Maybe we can sneak on when they load up the cargo and sneak in that way."

The two standing guard continue to observe the workers load crates. They wear chainmail and have cutlasses sheathed at their belts, so it's probably safe to say they're there to keep people from boarding without permission.

"The law is on our side, and we must gain access." Ashlynn says, frowning (ain't that new!) at the two guards. Clearly, subtlety is something that does not generally cross her mind. "They may see reason in letting us past." Or they may have to be beaten to a pulp. One or the other!

Fiona motions for Ashlynn to take point them. “Well lets attempt reason them.” She offers and looks at the others, “Who wants to talk to them?I am not very good at people really liking what I say sometimes.”

Eliathitae takes a breath and steps forward. "I may attempt. But, the question is, what not to say?"

Eliathitaesighs, the coppery-blond braid of hers over her right shoulder and falling in front of her. "I can do as I said previously, if no other have any ideas."

“Well I would assume the question of “hey have you seen any dead bodies walking around.” Might cause them to look at us oddly.” Fiona points out. “Maybe.also don't mention we will be looting their boat. That might cause a bit of anger.”

Mel looks around to the others, nodding to Ashlyn and Fiona about trying reason. "I might have some luck at this," he says, and steps forward towards the two guards. "Good evening, gentlemen," he begins. "If I can speak to you a moment, we need to talk to whoever's in charge of cargo."

Eliathitae blinks her blue eyes repeatedly at Fiona. "I . . . will do my best to endeavour to avo --" and then Mel is walking up to the guards. "Oh."

The two men exchange looks with each other before looking at Mel and the rest of the adventurers behind him. One of them steps a little closer. "The captain is making ready to cast off. If you have a message for him, I can bring it to him." He says simply.

Ashlynn follows in step with the more... socially-inclined members of the party, simply looming over the group and falling back to the role of a bodyguard, a role she's familiar enough with. She - blessedly - keeps her mouth shut for the moment, allowing those with more glib tongues to do the talking.

Eliathitae steps forward without discussing things, "I understand that the captain is prepared to cast off. There has been sightings of illegal cargo on these docks and we are doing routine checks before any ship may cast off. I am sure your Captain received such information from the dockmaster?"

Zalara hmms a little bit as she watches Mel go up to talk to the guards. She follows along behind as the others go although she looks all over for a way to get in without the two guards noticing.

Mel looks back to the others when the guards deny us access, then turns back to the guards. "One piece of your cargo ..." He cuts off when Elly speaks up, then follows up, "Sorry this comes at the last minute, you know how these things go. We'll be as fast as we can," he offers helpfully.

The guard looks back over his shoulder at the other one, who shrugs. The first guard looks back at the adventurers. "... Let me go get the Captain. Maybe he'll speak with you." He turns to head back up the gangplank alongside one of the dockhands. The remaining guard stays where he is, now watching the group with a touch of curiosity. "You are... inspectors?" He looks rather dubious about this.

Eliathitae nods, straightening her posture as if she's been doing this a million times. "Yes, from the Guild of Explorers. We wouldn't be here if it weren't for the reports of the cargo. We just want to get this over with so we can all go home."

Fiona makes her way behind everyone and looks around. Biting her lower lip she goes up to her toes to see if she can see anything on the ship. Nodding at whatever the others say she looks to
the boat to see if anyone is watching them.

Mel looks relieved that they're going to get the captain. If nothing else, we can waylay him and these two and have our run of the ship. To the remaining guard, he attempts to marry up Elly's comment and some sort of official position by saying, "Yes, we're contracted out by the Explorers' Guild. They do a bit of everything there. But yes, we're here as inspectors."

Zalara hmmms as she wanders off a little bit to watch the cargo being loaded. She hmmms softly as she tests a couple of crates to see if they are sturdy or could be open easily.

Ashlynn, for her part, uses her superior height to keep an eye on the cargo-loading process, without offering a single word. She remains at Mel's and Eliathitae's side, as straight-backed and frown-ridden as ever. She'll likely get wrinkles from that at some point, likely sooner than anyone rightly should.

"Huh." The guard replies. He doesn't exactly seem to be one for conversation. After another couple minutes, the guard returns. This time, he's followed by an even larger, more imposing Veyshanti fellow. Judging by his very large hat and beard, as well as his expensive-looking scimitar, it's probably a fair guess that this man is the captain. While he looks mostly human, his eyes are entirely white: no iris, no pupils, probably a hint at some distant nonhuman ancestry. He appears somewhat irritated, stomping right up to the front of the group. "You are inspectors?" He asks, in the same accent Ferah had. "We were inspected just earlier today. All taxes were paid. What is the meaning of this?" He asks, scowling.

Now, the adventurers do seem to have attracted some attention. A few more armed sailors have come to the edge of the ship, watching the captain storm out. With them is a figure in a darkly colored robe, with a hood obscuring his face.

Fiona moves to help Zalara start looking over boxes. There is little she can do to help with the speaking part of this, but at least she can make it look like she is really inspecting cargo. Leaning down she sniffs a few boxes and wrinkles her nose. She looks at the others and then at the Captain before looking back at Zalara. She falls quiet as she can looking around her.

Eliathitae does her best to sigh exasperatingly, tossing her braid over her back with an irritated look to her blue eyes. "Look, captain, we all have places we need to be. The normal inspectors have already been around this morning, that's normal. Do we look like normal inspectors to you? It's a temporary action in place simply because of the reports of some illegal cargo that has been floating around. Fortunately, this is a rare occurence that the Guild of Explorers is called out, but here we are. If you'll just let us have our look, we'll be on our way."

Mel stands up before the captain and suppresses a wince as Elly continues with that bluff. He says, "We're sorry about the confusion, Captain, we're here not here about the taxes, as she says. We're here about one particular piece of cargo. You have a body on board, a Mister Rashidin, who needs to come off before you get underway. If you can help us out, we'll be out of here lickety-split, we don't want to impact your schedule.”

Zalara looks back at the others and she winces as she hears Mel just tell why they are here. She moves her hand towards her death ray and she makes sure she has some over behind the crate.

Ashlynn's eyes flick away from the cargo as an audience begins to build, and thus the tension rises all around. Someone may do the foolish thing and draw a weapon, and if it happens, she'd rather be ready for it. The robed figure gets no more attention than the rest of the sailors, though - articles of clothing, no matter how dark, should not rightly be indication of morality.

The captain scowls at Eliathitae. Well, probably at Eliathitae. The unusual nature of his eyes makes it a little difficult to tell exactly where he's looking. "We have no illegal cargo. All we have are Alexandrian lumber and grain. I would never trade in narcotics or other contraband." When Mel asks the question more directly, his eyebrows rise. "Rashidin is my family name. My brothers and I own this ship. I think you are mistaken, friend."

Fiona blinks at this and then sighs lightly. She makes her way back to the ones speaking. “Do you have a wife? Ferah..” She wonders now. Her head tilts to the side as she looks the captain over a bit closer now. “Or a sister in law..”

Eliathitae is momentarily taken off-guard, blinking, but decides to wait for Captain Rashidin's response to Fiona's sudden question about Ferah's relation before she makes any efforts one way or another.

Mel ahhhs as the captain identifies himself. "I see. If you've only got lumber and grain, then there won't be any bodies on your cargo manifest? You won't mind if we take a quick look, of course? Just so we can all say that we've done so." Although, the guy in the robes does tweak his suspicious streak. Now we have to look for Zombie crewmen also?

Zalara continues to pretend to look at the cargo and she glances over towards the others to see how they are doing talking to the captain.

"Of course. My brothers and I are all married." The captain replies. There is a pause, then a little grin appears on his face, displaying a prominent gold tooth. "Ah. You have been sent here by Ferah, yes? She has grown too used to your decadent Alexandrian lifestyle. How she tried to talk Qitar into delaying the voyage. Please, pay her no mind." He gives Mel a little glare. Maybe. "Again, your city's inspectors already checked our manifest when we paid our taxes. Grain and lumber, nothing else. My brother is quite busy making preparations to cast off. And if there is nothing further, I should join him." He turns as if intending to head back up the gangplank.

“Why don’t we come on...we can chat with him while he works. and JUST before you pull the ah..” Fiona motions to the gangplank. “Planky board thing away from the dock, we slip off. Please..listen we were hired to do a job. Just like you, Some of us have card games to get back to.” She beams to the captain. “We can carry on a few boxes.” She motions to the cargo. “Help you out, Help us out, questions get answered, you get under way.”

Mel will follow the captain up the plank as if he were invited aboard. "Indeed, sir, the manifest was checked. But the cargo was not searched. You see, his body is missing, and it may be aboard. The more quickly you let us on, the more quickly we can inspect and determine that he is not on board." He's oh, so helpful.

Eliathitae follows Mel, looking as resolute as she can manage. "I know it is a frustration, Captain, but we do still have to follow our orders and inspect each ship on behalf of the Guild of Explorers for the illegal cargo, as my colleague says. Your men can continue about their work. We will only be a short while. I am sure all you have is lumber and grain."

The captain pauses for a moment, midway up the gangplank. He looks back over his shoulder in Eliathitae's general direction for a moment, then looks at his guards, "... Very well. I shall show you to him. He is below decks. Follow me." He gestures to his guards, who edge to the side to allow the group to pass. The figure in the hooded robe, along with the other sailors on deck, likewise move aside to allow the group to follow the captain.

Ashlynn is growing more suspicious of the situation by the minute. A glance is given to Eliathitae - a questioning one, the woman clearly placing a lot of faith into the priestess' wisdom. She stomps right after the pair going up the gangplank - remaining behind them to guard their backs, as necessary, but not butting in on the conversation. It seems she trusts them with it fully, for the moment.

Fiona moves quickly up the plank behind the others. She narrows her eyes at the captain and sighs. She shakes her head slowly and starts to look around the ship as they go up the plank onto the ship. “Thankyou Captain.” She offers quietly.

Eliathitae follows quietly, keeping her suspicions to herself. She looks over her shoulder to Ashlynn and gives her a bit of a frown without saying a word. "I hope we have not wasted your time. I was really hoping to be done this before sundown, and there are still more ships to do."

Zalara hmms as she's not really good at telling when other's are lying or not. She does keep her death ray handy as she continues to look around.

And so, the adventurers head below decks, following the captain. He wordlessly leads them down past the first deck, where the sailors have their hammocks. Then down through the second deck, packed with crate after crate of the ship's cargo. He leads the crew straight down to the darkest, deepest recesses of the ship, the bottom-most hold. Oddly, it seems to have been converted into a cabin of sorts. There's a bed and a desk, where a hunched figure with white hair scribbles at a ledger. "Qitar? You have visitors." The captain calls, gesturing for the adventurers to descend the stairs.

Mel finds it wildly suspicious that this guy is both alive and locked way down here. With an eye to not getting the door slammed and locked in the bottom of the hold ... why -is- this guy stuck here rather than in a regular cabin, or helping out on deck ... with an eye to not getting locked down, he stands at the top of the stairs and calls out, "Mister Rashidin? Your wife Ferah sent us to bring you home. You can come with us."

Eliathitae does not say a word, still silently dreading the moment her first non-truth in a dangerous situation especially will strike them down or worse. She barely suppresses her own internal grimace. She is keeping her eye out now, leaving it to Mel to field this since he has already started.

Fiona turns to look at the door of the room, attempting to make sure that no one is going to come up behind them any time soon. “Please.” She adds to Mel’s statement.

Nodding slightly at Eliathiatae as if to indicate she's got her back, Ashlynn follows the group down, down into the bowels of the ship. The hunched figure is eyed critically - and so is the captain, for a moment - the woman remaining as tense as the string on her bow. Something funny is going on here. She's not certain what, but something is, and by the Gods she will find out what!

... Eventually. Ashlynn's methods are more reminiscent of an angry bull charging and smashing a wooden gate - and that just leaves a whole lot of gate-bits lying around, as well as an angry gate-owner. It's better, thus, to let the more talkative ones try their, more subtle methods first.

Zalara hmms as she looks down at the person if you can still call it that. She does not like undead and she looks back to the captain, "What did you do to him?"

When the adventurers call out to him, the hunched figure by the desk slowly turns around to face them. It's immediately apparent that something is wrong. While his clothing is of fine quality, his face is nearly skeletal. His mouth hangs open, and his eyes have been replaced with dim glowing red lights. The creature is clearly undead.

In the same moment, the captain draws his scimitar, pointing it at the adventurers. The two guards have followed him at a distance and now file in behind him. The three of them effectively block the stair back up to the deck above. Further back is the shadowy figure in the hooded cloak, who was lurking up on deck earlier. The captain now speaks in a low, grim tone. "Remove your weapons slowly. Live slaves are worth more than dead ones, but you will be struck down if you resist.

Eliathitae tries, again, the peaceful way out of this. "Captain, with all due respect, we are members of the Guild of Explorers. Even were you to take us prisoner, what makes you think you will even get out of this city?"

Mel acks when the zombie fellow looks up. "Ah, I see you don't want to be disturbed," he says flatly, nudging the hatch back closed with his foot, "sorry to have bothered you." When the captain's scimitar comes out, his hands go straight up over his head. No heroics here, no sir. At the command to remove weapons slowly, he complies, and comes forward to hand his sheathed sword to one of the guards. "Ah, I'm good with being alive, sir," he offers helpfully. Though if he can get close enough, he's going try to pop one of them in the face with a sucker punch.

Fiona sighs deeply. “Alive is the way I prefer...” She says as she starts to go for her weapons. She doesn’t take them off of her yet, “And I am not resisting, but perhaps you would like to make a deal...” She offers.

It's only Eliathitae's words that stop Ashlynn from immediatelly howling a warcry and cleansing what is clearly an abomination from the face of Gaea. Instead, with the priestess of Althea speaking, the archer-woman halts herself abruptly - twitching, once, as she battles to quell the urge. One can hear her teeth grinding.

The captain chuckles darkly, the sound echoed by his two minions. "We'll be casting off in minutes. Your slow Alexandrian ships will have no chance to catch us by the time they realize you're missing." He quickly points his blade at Mel. "Stay back. And remove your weapons. I won't ask again." The undead creature lurches as if intending to stand from his seat. The hooded figure raises a hand to it, and it settles back down while making an unsettling moaning sound.

Eliathitae raises her chin as the captain (and his minions) laugh. Anyone who's watching closely enough will note she's shaking. Elly attempts to continue the route of peace all the same, "Clearly you recognise my robes, my armour, and my shield. You know I am a priestess and this . . . abomination does not frighten me, if I am armed or no. There are more of us than you. We said we are envoys of the Guild of Explorers. The Guild will send more. Even if you sell us into slavery, we will be found and you will be punished."

Mel steps back for the moment as the captain points the blade at him. "Sorry, sorry, I'm not doing anything, nosir!" He thinks a moment. "Apart from removing my weapons. That's what I'm doing." Though he's not really doing it very efficiently. He'll play for time to see how Elly's words take them.

Zalara takes out her death ray and she starts to power it up. She aims it right for the captain and his goons, "Now you can either get out of here or I can blast a hole in you and your ship. We'll take the dead guy with us too."

The captain narrows his eerily white eyes when Zalara draws a weapon. "... Very well then. We'll do this the hard way." He then scowls at Eliathitae. "Let's see if your faith will protect you!" The other guards draw their scimitars, the cloaked figure raises his hands, and the undead fellow rises from his seat. Clearly, things are about to get ugly.

Mel groans inwardly as the weapons come out. Of course they were going to be fighting anyhow, but he would have rather it not been quite like this. He has a half-step jump on the situation, though, having been ready for things to work out this way, and he dodges past the captain and the guards, before they can quite change from threatening to fighting. He lashes out at the evil priestly fellow with his shortsword, and wounds him, but fails to bring him down with the surprise attack. "Uhoh," he groans, and prepares for the worst.

Fiona moves quickly, almost as quickly as Mel. Rapier and dagger are drawn as she moves with Mel to get close to the cloaked figure. she swings at the man, missing him wildly as she does. Grumbling she mutters and looks at her rapier.

The captain's milky eyes narrow in anger as he whirls around, slashing Mel with his drawn blade. Fortunately he only scores a shallow cut, but it's painful all the same. The cloaked figure staggers back, his hood falling away. He resembles the captain, with the same oddly white eyes. His head has been shaved, and his beard trimmed to a goatee. The undead figure at the desk lurches forward, reaching out to strike Eliathitae with a curled fist, striking with surprising force.

"DEFILERS!" Ashlynn howls as hell finally breaks loose - the first sign of true, unhindered emotion to her beyond her usual frowning. "Your own kin!" she continues, clearly affronted, as the bow is slung off her shoulder and proverbially flies into hand. An arrow is drawn, the tip pointed without hesitation at the undead menacing the priestess - and unleashed, let to spear through drying, dead flesh, where it sticks with a dull thud.

Eliathitae was not ready for the punch from the zombie, her shield not quite readied as she takes the punch of the undead in the side of the face. Stunned for a moment and not even attempting to pull her longsword, she immediately prays to the Blessed Lady, drawing forth energy through her training specifically to harm the undead, especially that one who just bruised her face. "I said, I do not fear this creature!"

The bald-headed man in the cloak sputters and recoils, the effect of the assault leaving him unable to act for the moment. The scimitar-wielding men seem to have focused on Mel as the greatest threat, surrounding him and swinging wildly. One scores a blow to his chest, adding another deep cut to the unfortunate fellow.

Zalara activates her titan armor and her octagon shaped backpack lights up as the thin metal plates emerge from it and move around her body to protect her. She flips the switch on her death ray to it's frost setting and she fires at the necromancer. The only shot she had was a glancing blow, but it hurts the bald necromancer and the cold energy of the ray manages freeze him almost solid. The death ray starts it's recharge cycle as it lets out a blast of steam.

The wizard, while recoiling, manages to cough out a magical phrase. He reaches out to grab Mel's arm, giving Fiona the opportunity to cut him again. An electircal arc pulses out, leaving Mel with another burn.

Mel franticly evades the blades flashing all around. There's a couple close calls where sharp steel skitters across his mail shirt, but he avoids taking a killing blow. He's not happy to be where he is, but he's had worse. He sees the priest trying to cast a spell, and slashes wildly with his blade, but can't connect, and when the man grabs him and jolts him, he screams in pain. But he has enough presence of mind left to hack at the fellow with his blade again, and this time, he strikes the man down. Mel is left crispy and a little dazed.

“MEL!” Fiona screams and quickly moves as he is scorched by the spell. She flips into position with one of the guards and takes a swing with her rapier again. Cursing as she misses. “We have to...” She starts out and starts to cuss at her rapier. “Work darn it.”

The captain sneers, white eyes practically glowing red with rage. "Brother!" He lashes out to cut Mel once again in angry retribution for felling the bald fellow, drawing enough blood to drop the rogue to the floor. He quickly whirls around, teeth gritted with rage. Meanwhile, the undead horror moans with anguish and anger, lashing out to strike again at the priestess. It swings twice, both blows going wide.

Drawing arrow after arrow with practised ease and speed - not to mention the fury of a Gileadite battling an undead - Ashlynn unleashes the projectiles upon the shambling corpse. The sounds of the impacts are unsettling as the arrows embed in its torso, joining the first, and each makes the abomination wobble - but it keeps going, being shot or not.

Zalara takes aim at the captain as the necromancer goes down and so does Mel. She narrows her eyes as the death ray finishes recharging and she fires the icy beam at the captain. It hits and hurts him,b ut he's able to avoid the chilling effects of her ray.

With Mel downed, the guards turn back around to face their nearest foe: Fiona. Both step forward and swing their blades at her, once of them scoring a blow that leaves her with a painful looking gash.

Eliathitae cries out as Mel goes down, and again focuses on bringing more energy from the Healer, this time instead working on trying to heal the living so they can fight longer. "No! Mel! Come back to me, come on . . ." murmurs she as she apparently doesn't have too much energy to draw.

Fiona screams as she is hit. She moves quickly, rapier flickering first, then dagger. The rapier draws about as much blood as the man drew on her and she growls out. “HOLD STILL so I can stab you.”

The captain now joins his minions in the attack on Fiona, although his strike is easily deflected. Meanwhile, the horrible undead Qitar is still trying to grab ahold of Eliathitae, making horrible noises all the while.

"Dishonorable lout! You who would make abominations of your own blood! And with no courage to face an enemy in equal combat, you fall upon the meekest in a swarm like a rat!" Ashlynn bellows at the captain, words punctuated by adding to the arrow collection upon Qitar. The final one pierces deep until only the feathers remain on the side it was shot from - and with a final unnatural moan, the undead collapses upon the floorboards.

While one of the guards seems to be having a great deal of difficulty scoring a blow, the one who Fiona struck has no difficulty striking back. He slashes at her angrily, scoring a much deeper cut across her torso.

Zalara continues to keep her aim trained on the captain as the death ray finishes recharging. She fires a stream of cold energy trying to freeze the captain to the bone, but so far he's proven able to outlast her cold.

When Mel wakes up, Fiona moves quickly, Her rapier and dagger flickering again at her foe. She lets out a scream of challenge hoping they won’t see that her friend is threatening them. She is hit again, it causes her to let out a scream in pain, “I COULD USE A LITTLE GOD TOUCHING RIGHT NOW..” She calls out. “Please!!”

"My brothers!" Shouts the captain, white eyes nearly red with rage. He slashes at Fiona, but his blow goes wide. Very wide. Really, it's almost embarassing.

Mel grunts woozily as he comes around, weak and shaky as conscious returns, just barely, and he finds himself on the bloody deck of the ship. Looking around, he realizes he hasn't been shipped off, that the fight is still ongoing! He quickly takes stock of the situation, shouting to try and get the one guy's attention off Fiona, at least for that critical moment. Buoyed with hope as she tags the fellow, Mel tries to finish him off, but misjudges his attack because of the blood loss and the fact that he's still on the ground. Whoa, the world is spinning! Eyes rolling back, he flops back onto the ground.

"Turn around, slaver! Turn around and face justice!" shouts Ashlynn - and she says it with conviction, in spite of it sounding like it came straight from some religious scripture or a cheap hero novel.

Alas, the arrows she punctuates the challenge with... one embeds into the wood of the hull and vibrates there, and the other just ruffles the tip of the feather upon the captain's hat in its fly-by.

Eliathitae despite her difficulties with healing before, as the combat grows more dire, so does the Blessed Lady's heed to her call. She is standing almost over top of Mel as she again calls forth that positive energy, managing just enough control to have it not affect the damaged living opponents.

Zalara continues to aim at the Captain and this time she manages to hit him where it hurts. The cold injures him badly and he feels the cold all the way down to his bones. She smirks if he's going to ignore her she's gonna keep firing at him.

One of the guards, the one that was doing all the talking earlier, certainly seems to be a more gifted combatant than the other one. Despite his wounds, he lunges forward with increasing rage. He lands a solid cut right at Fiona's neck, a painful and very dangerous injury.

Mel wakes up again, only moments later, still prone, but realizing that he's not much use that way. And once he realizes it, he checks himself for injuries quickly, and when he works out that his entrails aren't dragging across the deck, he crawls away to get clear of the fighting before standing up.

When the captain goes wide, Fiona grins at him. She moves quickly, attempting to finish off the guard that had been attacking her. A warm feeling of good touching comes to her body. Flowing through her and closing the wounds. “OOOh Bless you.” She calls out to the priest. Then she is smacked hard, by one of the guards. She growls and narrows her eyes at him. She is not going to go down without a fight. Lunging forward her rapier goes through the man, Her action having profit as she falls he falls with her.

The captain howls in anguish at the loss of his brothers and his loyal guardsman, lashing out with another strike at Fiona. Or maybe it was meant to be a strike at Eliathitae. The lack of pupils and his generally poor swordsmanship are making it somewhat difficult to tell what his intended target actually was.

Ashlynn decides that words aren't going through the red haze that is the captain's mind. She decides, thus, to focus on making her point a little pointier - with, in fact, two separate points. The ones on the arrowtips. Both the arrows she sights down and lets loose embed themselves in the captain - one in the back, another in the side - and the man's rage subsides only because he falls to his knees, and then the floor in a puddle of crimson, his sword clattering to rest beside him.

Zalara watches Ashlynn take down the captain and she frowns, kill stealer. She takes aim at the last guard and she fires her death ray at it. The icy cold beam freezes the guard in place and he falls over dead. She looks around, "Let's get the corpse and go."

Eliathitae begins going about touching the captain, necromancer, and guards, ensuring that none of them die. She then goes about healing the remainder of her group, quietly but resolutely stating, "They must all see justice. Mel, Fiona, are you two okay?"

As the last of the men drops and silence falls over the hold, Ashlynn packs up her weapons and marches, silently, to the still-living, if mortally wounded, captain and his men and gets to work trying to stop the erratic flow of blood from their wounds, starting with the one wounded the worst. Her hands move in a way that suggests she's had some training with this... though not too much of it. Perhaps she's just trying to say she's tried. There is to be little mercy beyond that for them.

Fiona comes to with a gasp. She was starting down that tunnel with a light at the end and seeing your life flash before her eyes, apparently she didn’t get far past infancy because she was almost sucking her thumb. “I LOVE you...” she offers to Eliathitae, “Not weird love, but more the love of I love the healthy touches you do.” Fiona slowly sits up and grumbles. “That...hurt worse then a dagger to the pinky.”

Mel manages to pick himself up as the others take down the captain and his guards. "Um, are we all okay? Well, alive anyhow?" He cleans off his blade on a rag and sheaths it, nodding to Elly. "I'll live, thanks. Big thanks," he says with a small groan. "This is going to be complicated, though. How are we going to get off the ship? And are we taking this guy? What about the guards? Can we call for the watch? Making undead has to be illegal, right? They should be able to arrest them for real."

Eliathitae nods to Mel, her brow still resolute if sweat-soaked as she likely is stabilising another downed combatant. "Necromancy is certainly illegal in Alexandria. Seems it is not in other places. I will tend to these men. Can someone get to the dock and alert the Watch?" Given Mel and Fiona's injured states, her eyes fall on Ashlynn - assuming the archer can likely hold her own somewhat in combat - or at least be intimidating!

"The ship cannot sail without its captain." Ashlynn says, releasing the cloth she'd wound tightly about the slashed-open leg of one of the unconscious guards to stop the torrential pour of blood from the laceration. A nod of thanks is given to Eliathitae when she arrives to make certain the quartet live. "One must go summon the Watch and the priesthood. Others can remain to stand guard." she suggests.

And so, the adventurers emerge from below decks with the subdued captain and his guards, along with the necromancer and the corpse of the poor widow's reanimated husband. The crew is shocked, but nobody seems to want to stop the adventurers after they already defeated the toughest they had to offer. Needless to say, the City Watch is very interested in what the group has to say. The captain and his officers are locked away in jail, facing charges of necromancy, attempted murder, slaving, and kidnapping, and a whole host of other offenses. It seems unlikely that they will see freedom again.

Ferah, while distraught to hear that her husband was indeed reanimated by his brothers, is relieved that the adventurers were able to put him to rest again. It also makes it much easier for her to claim ownership of the Marid's Dance, which she promptly does. A reward is paid to the group, and they are thanked for making Alexandria a safer place once again.
[[Category:Log]]

A Land Down Under

2012-11-19T01:43:41Z

Fiona:

'''Players''': Hilal, Gavisa, Mel, Vennan, Angrid, Zalara, Fiona, Jessa

'''Title''': A land down under

'''Summary''': A trip to the sewers. Oh dear.

'''Log'''

Splut. Splut. Splut. Splut.

That's the sound that is made with each step as you work your way through the sewers. Hired, as you all have been, to do the work that nobody else wants to do.

The recent merchant battles and more has left some more ordinary tasks by the wayside. Like this one.

"We've got an overflow in one section of the sewers. As usual, something is blocking it. Probably something horrible, and I don't mean horrible smelling. Whenever something gums up the work down there, all the horrile things you can imagine are usually the result. First, there's what you'd imagine. Then everything else accumlates on top of that, and that brings out all the horrible monsters. The otyughs, the carrion eaters, and more. That's where you come in. We've had a block for a while that none of the workers want to go near, and so that's your job. Go down there, clear the blockage, and then let us know if anything interesting is there once you've dispatched the horrible monsters that are sure to be feasting upon the awfulness."

And so you're down in the sewers. Splut. Splut. Splut.

"You know. I really don't like sewers," Jessa says. In case people were wondering. She is staring down at the ground with a look of vague horror but then, she is much closer to it than everyone else. "There are no parties to accidentally stumble upon with delicious drinks down in the sewers."

Mel smirks at Jessa's comment and agrees, "Yeah, that last job was a lot less smelly, too. I was sure you'd get into some kind of trouble for being so familiar with the client's booze and such, but no one seemed to mind. I'm still not clear on how that works. If I'd walked into someone's house and started drinking their drinks, I'd get arrested." He's got a rag tied around his nose and mouth, and he's got a long pole for poking things, in case that helps. Hopefully he's somewhere near the middle of the group.

Hilal is far less grumbly than everyone else. And quieter, at least verbally. He does make a note though. "At least I'm working with some familiar faces this time. Hopefully, nobody in the party will wish to try and bash my head in with a mace this time around?" He looks very pointedly at Zalara then before he asks Jessa, "Would you rather I carry you, priestess?"

"You know. Being a Muse gets you a -remarkable- amount of leeway." Jessa is making horrified sounds but then, the halfling is sinking up to her knees with each step. "I....cannot tell you how much I appreciate your extremely kind offer, my sweet, but it is too late already."

Zalara narrows her eyes over at Hilal as she brings that up, "Well hopefully someone can follow the plan and not have to win even when he's supposed to lose so we can get the job done." She looks at Jessa, "If you like I could build you some stilts for adventures like this."

Fiona chuckles. “If you don’t like them.” She starts out and winks at the halfling, “Drinks in the sewers.” Fiona frowns and shakes her head, “If its brown, Don’t drink it down. IF its yellow, Leave it to mellow...” She warns, “Over all No...You don’t drink anything down here. “What if you lose a boot?” Fiona wonders as she sinks down and frowns, “I am not diving into the muck to save your shoes.”

"Why do we even need sewers?" Gavisa muses in a thoughtful tone of voice. She taps her chin. "I visited a village where they just threw their crap on the street. It didn't smell very good, but it didn't have monsters under the village either. I'm sure that's a pretty good tradeoff." She reaches into her cloak and takes out a bottle of expensive brandy, opens it, and retrieves a scarf. She soaks the scarf, corks the brandy, and puts it back into her cloak. "I mean, what could really go wrong with that?" She drops the hood of the cloak, ties the scarf around her head bandit style, and slips the hood back on. "Mmside fnom th' nimconvenens," she adds in a muffled voice as she adjusts the scarf.

Angrid pauses, peering down. "Hm. Thought I saw a meat pie. False alarm." He paces onward, dwarfishly trying to ignore the scents and sounds around him. He really can't blame the others for being disgusted. "'Tis the wave of the future, lass," he calls back to Gavisa. "Of course, dwarves do it better. We use high pressure water to clean out the pipes."

"Oooh STILTS." Jessa likes this idea very much but then? She would. Then she eyes Gavisa. "You have never spent time in the hospitals of places that throw things in the streets." She points to Angrid. "That sounds....well. Wait. What if you fall in the water?" She frowns then has a moment of panic when one foot pulls out of her boot. She jams it back in. "Stilts."

“Sewers are needed, so we don’t have crap in the streets.” Fiona states matter of factly. “The question is, why don’t we have someone we pay to clean up the crap on the streets.” She points out. “I am sure someone would make a good living cleaning up other people’s filth.” She stops and looks down at her feet. “Silts would be good for you. Then you could pretend to be a human once and awhile.”

Hilal grumbles, "Unfortunately, people do get paid to clean out the crap down here...Us." He winces a bit as Jessa loses her boot but recovers, but the wince had made him lose his slight blush. Nobody ever called him 'sweet' before. "I vote that we hurry. I'd rather not be down here long enough to become ill."

Mel shrugs about the need for sewers. "Someone does make a good living cleaning up the filth," he points out. "That's us. We're going to make more for this than most families earn in a year. In several years. That's why we're here." He holds an everburning torch up to light his way, using a long pole for balance where the footing gets tricky.

"Ew. Why would I want to pretend to be a giant freak?" Jessa mutters. "You people are weird and oversized." She leans down and tightens her laces as carefully as she is able to without actually touching anything bad. "Yes. We need to get out of here sooner rather than later."

Gavisa reaches into that handy-dandy cloak of hers, and retrieves two short swords. Angrid receives a skeptical look. "Mnot sure I tnust water with phressure." She glances over and down at Jessa. "Good idea. The smell hwould scare 'way th' sicknness." She follows the valiant champions.

As someone who is actually bigger than most "giant freaks" Hilal just slumps his head down some, dejected.

Angrid continues to stoically march ahead. "Just don't go swimming in it, lads and lasses, you'll be fine. Once we're done we'll get someone to dump buckets of water on us to get the filth off, then it's off to a nice hot bath."

Schloop!

The sheer build up of... well... *crap* and not just of the kind that comes out the wrong end of a human being is clear evidence that you're getting to the right place. The walls are slick with slumey water and moss.

The sewers of Alexandria are an interesting place. They are one part real sewers, well build and constructed, one part ruins that were incorporated INTO the sewer system, and one part repair work that tends to bridge the gap between the two. This creates a somewhat schizophrenic looking design, at least as far as aesthetics and sewers that can be said to have them goes.

The stench, by the way, is nearly as overpowering as... well... actually it pretty much IS overpowering. Thankfully, your senses of smell are presently disintegrating anyways.

Zalara hmms, "Well my father is working on an automated cleaning machine for the sewers, but the city council won't hear him out. And there are the otyughs that eat everything that's organic which is most of the waste anyway." She sighs as the waste is built up and she looks around, "I don't think I've been down this far before."

"Last time I was down here a tentacle thing tried to eat me," Jessa says philosophically.

“OH yeah.” Fiona says and smiles. “What are we charging for this again?” She looks at the others and then chuckles quietly. “Hey we may be weird, but we are not oversized, You are just undersized.” She sticks her tongue out at the halfling. “Well then keep pressing forward.” Fiona states and points forwards. “OOh...watch out for wheel of cheese..I think its moving on its own. Well why aren’t there more things to eat this crap, and less tentacles to eat us?”

Mel wrinkles his nose, though that's hard to see under his makeshift mask. "I think there'd be plenty for the otyughs to eat, but something's got them scared off. That's why we're here, yes?" He smirks at Fiona, and says, "Enough to eat well for several years. Or, y'know, a few potions, or maybe a downpayment on a magic sword."

Angrid shrugs, armor clanking. "Don't ask me about economics, that's a subject for the priests." He pauses again, stopping to peer at some of the moss growing on the wall, raising his helmet visor to study it intently. "Hmmm."

Gavisa saves her breath for now, pushing forward. Even with the scarf reeking of brandy, this is decidedly not fun. It's all iiiicckkkky.

Jessa gives Fiona a blank sort of look, especially when the tongue appears. "You -do- realize we are not just strange human children, don't you?" Shaking her head, the little priestess squints up at Gavisa. "Do you have more of that booze? It may have to do for a refreshing drink down here?" Maybe being slightly drunk will make the stench not so bad. Then she drifts over by Hilal and gently pats his knee, beaming up at him.

Hilal would likely be blushing at being recognized more, but something about suddenly being surrounded by moss and well...other crap really unnerves him. Instead, his shield comes from his back as he becomes on edge. He doesn't try to get away from Jessa so much as move to be covering her from anything that may come from in front of them. "This can't be natural..."

Fiona looks at Jessa, “You’re a child? I thought you were an adult.” She offers actually confused. “OF course I realize you are not a human child. You ar a half folk..” She shakes her head, “That doesn’t make you any less odd..” She seems strangely confused by the little woman. “Seriously though, we are not going to be eaten by a tentacle monster are we?”

Gavisa looks down at Jessa, blinking sharply. She raises her hand, slowly due to the sword with it, and pushes up the scarf a mite with the back of her palm. "You're going to drink down here?" Pause. "How about food? I have an egg and shrimp paste sandwich, if you're interested."

Zalara hmms at Jessa, "Of course you aren't a strange human child. I am a strange human child." She continues to look as she hmms softly before she starts to look around for what's clogging the drains.

Angrid shakes his head at Jessa. "Let it be, lass." He lowers his visor again, tightening his grip on his axe and shield before continuing -- trying to breathe through his mouth. At least his beard acts as a sort of filter for the stink.

Mel groans at Gavisa's comment, but says generally, "You people are all sick and wrong." It's not nearly muffled enough by his rag mask. He tries to remain alert for whatever is going to happen next. It's his first time here, he has no idea, though based on rumors, he expects it to be bad. And gross.

Hilal has no idea what's going on either. No, he just has a bad feeling. Bad enough feeling to draw his sword as he presses forward.
Jessa contemplates that in all seriousness, studying Gavisa. "No. No, I think just a swallow or two. I'd rather taste that than the air." Perhaps the Muse operates best slightly inebriated? "Something on the ceiling tried to eat me last time," she points out far far too cheerfully.

Fiona frowns at this. “Well then.” She offers and looks up, “I guess its a good thing to be the shortest..” She glares at the ceiling like its going to betray her at any moment. The cheer in the comment is either not caught, or ignored. “Lets move faster! The faster we find the pile of poop that is clogging this, the happier we will be I am sure.” She yucks silently as she moves through the muck. Yeah lets just call it muck okay.

Gavisa carefully sheathes her right sword, and reaches in to retrieve the bottle, which she then offers to Jessa. "Got sticky, fermented beans too," she states, a little louder and more clearly than necessary. Possibly for Mel's benefit.

It's harder going now. The build up is definitely, well.. building up. The level of goo begins to rise untill it's at most people's knees. This makes it even worse for the shorter people amongst your numbers.

Up ahead, though, is the blockage. It's within sight at last. The moss is thicker here, but so the level of debris and, oh hey. it smells even worse.

That is because prat of the blockage is at least composed of bloated, liquifying human remains that appear to all be stacked against the plugged, blocked up gate. The man in charge said that there should be a lever somewhere nearby that you can pull that'll *open* the gate and should shake the debris loose. In this case, human being debris. Five of them.

They're not all that's causing the problem, of course, but...

Mel hears Jessa's comment, and looks up so fast he hurts his neck. And almost falls over. "Owowowow." Holding pole and torch in one hand for a moment, he rubs his sore neck and tries to keep his footing. Gavisa gets a pained look once he can move without hurting himself. Looking forward, he's nearly sick, though he opines, "Is that the last group that tried to clear this out? And ... if we unblock the flow, are we going to get swept away in the torrent?"

Zalara can even smell the scent though her re-breather. She hmms, "I'll have to strength this when I get home." She shakes her head, "Oh of all the ways to die I think this this way would be the worse way to die...killed by poop."

It is just as well that Jessa has taken a loooong pull on Gavisa's brandy, thanking her and passing it back. By the time they get to the blocked gate? She's in up over her waist and operating with a grim determination. One that is broken with a low "Eluna's tits, that's revolting" when she spots the remains.

"This is your fault. All of this is your fault somehow." Vennan grumbles to Jessa, trudging sullenly along behind the group.

A rat crawls out of the eye socket of one of the dead bodies.

Just so you know.

Angrid winces. "It could be worse, Vennan. We could have a gnome along." He shakes his head at the ruined remains, and rumbles, "Not sure if they died of the stink, or something else. They are... pretty crumbled." He cautiously begins to advance on the pile. "Jessa, stay back lass, I'm not sure how deep it is here."

"Something always does." Vennan grumbles, eyeing the disgusting mess ahead of the group. He may be taller than Jessa, but that certainly isn't tall enough to be sufficiently far from this horrible goo. "... Why does the Guild keep putting me on these assignments? Have I offended someone?"

Fiona frowns and looks at the bodies. “Um. Why are there bodies down here?” she asks and looks at the group. “Is it normal for bodies to be in the sewer...” She stops and looks at the group she is with, “Is it normal for dead bodies to be in the sewer.” she amends. “OR should we tell someone...”

Gavisa slips the brandy back into her pocket, and draws her second blade again. Just in case. "Uhm. There was a lever, yah? Or can one of the big, strong men pull them loose?" It never hurts to ask, right?

Jessa sidles over to Vennan and hisses something at him.

Zalara hmms, "Look at it this way we are helping people if this blockage wasn't cleaned the waste would come up through the sewer grates and everyone would get sick." She hmms, "Unfortunately, probably, there are bad people in Alexandria."

"It's my fault, Vennan. I begged them for anything that didn't involve gnomes. My luck with them has been... poor, of late." Angrid actually -shudders- at the memory, before prodding at the half-rotted corpses with the business end of his axe, seeing how securely the blockage is.

The bodies are rotted and look like they've been hre for a while. They are excessively chewed on. A lot of soft tissue on all of them is just ... gone. More rats scurry and swim along. One of them brushes Jessa.

Just so you know.

Jessa smiles sweetly at Vennan, nods. "Almost." Then she peers toward the ceiling. Supiciously. Then she makes a gagging noise and sidles away from the rat, eyeing it balefully.

Mel will move forward to try and help find the lever. "We'll move it up a bit at a time, but try to keep to the sides. The main ... blockage will come through the middle, and will be under the water, so it'll trip us up if it catches us in the feet."

Fiona shakes her head slowly. “no we are going to get sick and seriously why does everything revolve around dead bodies. Either they are coming back to life or clogging shit up.” she starts to look around for the lever that they were promised was nearby.

Vennan whispers something back to Jessa in harsh tones, his eyes narrowed. Then he looks over at Angrid, momentarially upset. He sighs heavily. "... I suppose I cannot judge you too harshly for that. The logic is all too understandable."

Vennan eyes the surroundings for a moment, then sighs heavily when his eyes land on something in the pile of bodies. "Oh, Daeus. It's... it's there. The lever." He points towards one of the corpses. "... I am going to have to pull it, aren't I?" He says with a sad, resigned tone.

Hilal says, "I can take care of it, if you are unable."

Jessa is too busy staring at yet another rat that appears to be eyeing her. "Please get us out of here?" she asks suddenly. She isn't afraid but there is an uneasy edge to the halfling's voice that is not something usually heard from her.

Gavisa sends both Vennan and Hilal a big smile. Of course, she's wearing a scarf, so they can't really tell. But, uhm. Her eyes are smiling. Or laughing. Something positive and endearing like that. Sure. "Great. That is so brave of you, gentlemen."

Mel tries not to get sick, but he'll move forward to help with the lever-clearing. "The war was never this bad," he mutters as he tries to use his long pole to move the body off the lever, but will reach in with hands if he needs to. If he really needs to.

Fiona stands there and nods to Vennan. She motions the man to the pile of dead bodies. “I am going to stand...Over there.” She motions off to the side and starts to head that way. “As soon as he pulls the lever...”

Hilal nods to Jessa, making sure that his amber eyes lock with hers before he does so. "Ok. I'll get us out of here." He moves closer to Mel and his pole, "I can get it." He says as he sheathes his sword and slings his shield over his back again. "Get the lever once I move him." He goes to move the body with his hands.

Angrid uses his axe to hook away bits, dragging them aside. "Sorry, friends. I'll commend ye at the temple once this bit of black work is done -- and after I've gotten three baths." He grunts, and his axe comes up with an arm stuck on it. "Dammit."

Zalara hmms as she starts to look around for the lever, "I don't see anything." She looks over to Jessa, "We'll get out of here as soon as we can."

Mel nods to Hilal since he's taken charge, and with the body moved away, he has a look over the lever and gate to make sure there's nothing amiss, not that he's a huge expert on such things. In fact, it's really kinda gross to look where the body just was, so he doesn't take a very careful look. Wrapping another rag around his hand, he'll stand to the side of the flow, then reach down to try and pull the lever.

"You have an arm on your axe," Jessa says gravely to Angrid. Then she's trying to stand on her tiptoes.

Angrid shakes the axe briskly, the arm falling off as Vennan finally locates the lever. "Stand fast," he advises, casually putting himself within arm's reach of Jessa. Perhaps he's just being overcautious, but if this does what he thinks it might...

Gavisa steps off to the side too. Fiona definitely has the right idea.

Vennan sighs with the infinite weariness that only an elf can muster. "No, no, I'll handle this. Who else would?" With a shudder of revulsion, he bats away the corpse and tries to pull the lever as swiftly as possible. Thank goodness for gloves.

Zalara moves off to the side and she goes to look to see what's going on. "Careful."

Crnnk.

Crrrrrnk.

At first, the lever doesn't want to move. Vennan really has to put his back into it. Then the gate opens.

Of course, what happens when a blockage and buildup suddenly is done away with? Why, a *sudden release* of pressure begins. And all of you are swept along in the current. Fun!

You are literally being flushed through the sewers at the moment.

Mel shrugs, gives way as his help is apparently not wanted. "Well, -I- would, I was doing so, but go ahead. Take charge," he says sourly to Vennan, and himself steps out of the way of any debris that might rush out under the gate. Which does precious little good as the torrent proves much stronger than he'd expected, and he's flushed away downstream. It takes all his willpower not to cry out, because opening his mouth would be sooooo bad.

Tiny little halfling? It probably is not especially surprising that she gets easily smacked around into walls and dwarfs and horrifying horrifying debris.

Zalara fingers something to hold onto, "Whoa!" She clings to the sewer walls as she tries to keep her balance and manages to do so. She looks around, "Everyone okay?"

Vennan bounces and jostles off various unpleasant things as the current carries him along. He somehow manages to do all of this with the same weary frown that he nearly always has. Like he expected all of this.

Angrid realizes he's got a problem when he starts sliding despite still being upright. He swipes at Jessa once, trying to grab the halfling, and that makes him lose his balance. And with a sound like a smithy collapsing, he goes crashing and clattering down the pipe, propelled by the torrent and thinking one khazdul profanity after another.

Having definitely not thought of it before, Hilal's amber eyes go wide when he realizes just what he's about to be hit with. It's not like he has long to think though as he's swept up in it. Having been close to a wall, he is dragged along it, taking a few jutting rocks directly to the face. "GRAB JESSA!" he tries to shout, but finds that it comes out more "GRAB gurgle...spit...jessa..."

Fiona frowns as someone goes to reach for the lever. Then it happens, she is flushed down the sewers. A mental groan happens as well as the sudden and utter feeling and need to take a bath. Oh and burn these clothes. She reaches out for the halfling woman as she starts to bounce off the wall through the sewers. “Screw Jessa...Grab me! I am a bit flushed...”

Zalara hmms as she reaches to pull out her goblin army knife. She points one end at Jessa and she puts the button. A line of rope springs out of the knife and heads towards Jessa, "Grab hold!" She waits til Jessa grabs hold before she presses another button to try to whirl Jessa in.

Gavisa clings to the sides, breathing heavily in case she goes under and has to go without for a terrible, terrible while. Who claimed that honest work is worthwhile? Because that guy might end up with some steel in his kidneys at some point.

Bang! Kerplung! Bang!

It's just not a great day. At some point, there is the distinct sensation of free fall as you're dumped into an opening. With all the debris. And bodies.

That are falling with you. On you. Around you. SPLOOSH.

You're all able to come to the surface eventually. In a manner of speaking, but dear gods, you might wish you'd drowned yourselves instead. Dim mana lights are afied to the walls here and it does not take you long to reach for the rim and climb out of the cistern, bit by bit, bruised, battered, and... gross.

Gross is the mild way to put it. Definitely gross, though.

For long chilling moments, Angrid does not surface, until finally he plods upwards out from the deep end of the cistern... covered in muck, dirty water, and looking downright offended as he rises out of the nastiness. "I am going to kill someone," the dwarf announces in a flat voice.

There's an almost desperate flailing from beneath one body and Jessa's trying to get SOMETHING out of her mouth. "PLEASE TELL ME YOU DID NOT LOSE THE BRANDY." She starts to pull herself up out of the muck. She...is not strong. This may take a while.

Needless to say, Vennan is completely and utterly filthy when he emerges. He seems to have avoided injury, but this does little for his mood. "... Your city is a terrible, filthy hole." He mutters.

Mel does scream as he somehow ends up in freefall, and then he's clawing, crawling his way to what passes for air here. And ... lights. He crawls out of the muck as best he can, looking back to see if there's anyone that needs his help. He'll help if he can, once he gets his bearings. "Ugh. What is this? Where are we?"

Fiona makes her way out, “I am done. I quit.” She states simply. “I don’t care how much this job pays, and they will pay me.” She points out to everyone, “I am -never- going into the sewers again. “I need to kill someone. No not someone. Just who ever caused those bodies to get there, so all of this got plugged up. So we had to come down here, to unplug it and get plugged into the pit of disgusting, Oozey shit. Who cares its probably covered in filthy, disgusting...” She grumbles.

For a big guy who has just taken quite the beating from a pile of crap and dead bodies, Hilal is pretty good at getting himself out of the muck. He laxidasically moves over to Jessa to pick her up out of it and put her back on her feet. "Well. It wouldn't have helped if I had been carrying you, it seems." He tries to shake off what he can from his hands. Just in case. "Don't lose it yet, everyone...we're not done here."

Not quite yet, no.

See, as you clamber out of the cistern, the cistern is already draining. Guess what that leaves? The bodies. Sitting on the bottom of the cistern. Along with some of tha debris. It looks ripe to plug that little drain down there. For the time being. Isn't life grand?

Zalara can't hold on as the water grows too strong for even her grip and she's soon sucked down. She manages to avoid getting hit or hitting anything. She falls into the water with a splash. She comes up and pulls off the re-breather. It wasn't made to handle being underwater and has filled with brown water. She coughs and throws up a little as she gets out of the water. "Reos save me."

Gavisa climbs out. Slowly. Carefully. She doesn't want to fall again. She removes her soiled scarf, and uses the less filthy parts of it to wipe her face. Then she walks a bit away from the rest, and spends some delightful quality time being ill. Noisily too. Might as well give a show.

Vennan is fine with getting himself as far as possible away from the bodies and the debris. That sounds like a splendid idea in face. He does so, glaring at everyone and no one in particular.

Jessa is gasping for breath and looks up at Hilel, smiling brilliantly at him. "Thank you." Then she peers down into the cistern and starts to swear in a variety of languages. Very inspiring. "Could we just...you know. Set them on fire or dissolve them with alchemial acid or something?"

Angrid removes his helmet, shaking it futilely. Even his beard looks spattered with dirty water as the dwarf glares at the cistern. "Who designed this? Even -humans- don't screw things up this badly! Ach, that came out bad..." He sighs. "We'd need dwarven firegel to ignite them, lass. Better to just break them down -- or retrieve them."

Moving to plop down Fiona huffs lightly. “I ...told you that you were not a human child.” Fiona states to Jessa. “You are the most brillant woman in the world. I say we burn the bodies. Get rid of them, done gone no more bodies, We should make a new religion where that is what we go around and do. Just burn bodies. That way necromancers are out of a job.”

"Gotta keep from having to come back here again..." Hilal says as he starts to climb down into the drained cistern. Being a Man of Action is shitty work. Pun intended. He draws his sword as he gets closer. "Maybe that everburning torch? Can that light these?"

Mel blinks at the thought of destroying the bodies, and objects, "Hang on, hang on. We're bringing them back up, right? I mean, it's hard to get any more disgusting than we are right now, but whoever they are ...were, their families will want to know."

Angrid calls out to Hilal, "Wait lad! Let's take some precautions." He opens his filthy backpack, extracting a coil of spidersilk rope, and wraps one end several times around his arm. Then he tosses the other end to Hilal. "Tie that to yerself, so we don't lose ye."

Vennan looks even more sickened than he did already. "Do you Alexandrians have no respect for the dead? We should alert the proper authorities so that these unfortunate souls might be given a proper burial." He eyes the disgusting, putrid pile. "... Authorities other than ourselves, obviously."

Jessa doesn't bother to look at Fiona, tuning her out as she inspects the cistern. "Well. I have spells that can cause fires and all. But. Could we even manage to match all the different body parts to the right bodies?" She's right back to matter of fact.

Zalara looks over at Hilal like he is dumb and she shakes her head, "Everburning torches don't give off any heat." She looks at Fiona, "Let's not burn the bodies, why don't we try to find a way out of here and tell others that they are down here. We've done our job and cleared out the blockage."

And that's when you see it.

There is something down there. Admist the bodies. Something that glints just so in the light. Sparkles.

Fiona looks at Mel, “It could go in your mouth.” She states simply. “I am not an Alexandrian, I say we find something that identifies them as them, turn it into the city watch when we leave. I mean I hate to say it but...how are we going to get pieces back up..,” She winces. “So you guys are saying we are done. Lets just leave them be, head back up, tell the town watch oH by the way there are some bodies and go home for baths?” she asks the grounds with a few nods. “Sounds great.”

Gavisa returns to the group, feeling a bit lighter. "No respect for the dead, indeed." She nods to Zalara. "Either that, or we can fish them up. We would just need a rope and someone... light." She studies Jessa carefully.

"OH OH OH LOOK AT THAT." Jessa is like a little magpie, getting all excited and pointing. "THERE IS SOMETHING THERE." And then she's being eyed and she gives Gavisa a suspicious look. "What?"

Zalara holds up the rope that she has from her goblin army knife and she starts to wring it out, "I've got some rope too."

Mel shrugs about matching parts with parts. "That's what priests are for. I'm sure someone from Vardama's temple could sort things out." Fiona gets a puzzled look, then he sighs, "I did mean it rhetorically." He nods, though, at what Zalara says. "This is true. We've done what they asked, and now it'd be nice to get out. If we can bring them back, it's good, but we really need to bring -us- back." He pauses. "Hey, what's that?"

"Something that someone else should fish out an examine." Vennan replies to Mel, now sulking. "I was the one who had to pull that damned disgusting lever. It is someone else's turn."

Hilal doesn't mind being looked at as if he's dumb. He is dumb afterall. "Well ok then, I guess we take these things up." He shakes his head as he retrieves his own spidersilk rope, tied around his body, and starts to tie it around the bodies in a sort of hay bale. A really gross hay bale. He turns to drag them off of the drain so everyone can see whatever it is that's shiny and causing their attention.

Fiona looks into the mud, “Something shiney..” she states and looks around, “so yeah...we gonna pick it up?” Fiona looks around for who is going to volunteer to go find the shiney. She watches Hilal work and knots her brow. Looking green around the gills she swallows lightly. “oh man.”

Mel frowns to Vennan. "Don't play hero with that, I was going to pull the stupid lever and you all but pushed me out of the way and demanded the right to do it." He'll help out in whatever plan evolves, though. "Soonest done, soonest out of here."

"You are doing very well, very abnormally tall giant!" Jessa is going to encourage whatever means she doesn't get lowered down on a rope, yes. "WHAT IS THE SHINY THING DOWN THERE TELL ME TELL ME TELL ME!"

Gavisa smiles at Jessa. "Nothing. Nothing. Just thinking of contingency plans." She steps over to look down at Hilal instead. "You never know if the big guy there needs some help." She pauses for a moment. "Or gets eaten by a tentacoo, like you all mentioned."

Jessa eyes Gavisa. EYES.

Zalara looks at Jessa and salutes her, "Good luck." She gets out her death ray and turns it on to make sure it still works. Good thing she waterproofed it.

"What the sewers is a tentacoo?" Fiona asks and watches Hilal work.

The bodies take some time to be moved. They are...goopy. And bloated. And gross. And have rats inside of them still.

Eventually, the shiny thing is revealed. It is a single, moss encrusted gem. Enough of its surface is visible to still glint appropriately, but the garnet is definitely held in a simple gold casing that has several runes inscribed on it. One doesn't haev to be a wizard to recognize arcane runes much of the time. Especially when they occasionally glow lightly.

And glow they do. Incidentally, those bodies look to be getting moss covered *awful* fast.

In fact, the moss seems to now be growing at an incredibly rapid pace down here.

All over the bodies.

Which have begun to move.

Mel acks as the things start moving, and his first reaction is to get his teammate out of there. He'll grab onto the rope and start hauling away, reeling Hilal back out of the cistern and away from the moving bodies and strangely aggressive mold.

Hilal blinks. "Oh cra...." But before he can get the words out of his mouth, he's hauled up and out of the cistern. "Thank you." He says to Mel as he holds up the shiny gem, seeming like the source of their problems. He drops it at his feet, able to be kicked into the cistern if necessary, but out of his hands. Then he draws his sword and readies his shield. "Someone look at that, see if they can stop this."

Angrid blinks as Mel hauls Hilal out of the way even before he can. "Huh, well done lad," he rumbles with a slight grin. He drops his end of the rope, sweeping his axe out and making sure he's got a sure grip before taking up a ready stance, shield in front. "And what've we got to deal with THIS time, hm?"

There is a rippling feeling of divine magic as Jessa chants out a spell in the halfling tongue. She points at the gem. "That thing is eminating conjuration magic. KICK IT."

Gavisa reaches into her soaked, foul cloak and takes out some almost as foul swords. Spotting MossMan climbing up, she stabs down at him. It. O, to have a more impressive weapon.

Fiona blinks as the bodies come a live. “Burn them, burn them now.” She screams as she starts to take a few steps back. “What the hell is it with this city that the dead like to stand back up.” She goes into a tyraid of cussing that would make many sailors blush. Drawing her rapier and dagger she shakes her head and mutters. “Alright. Bring it.’ She glares at the undead, moss covered creatures, “I am NOT going to die in a sewer.”

Angrid is a bit startled by how quick the damnable things come scuttling upwards, and he has to check his swing to keep from dropping his axe. "Blast... I told ye they need to use high pressure water to clean these things out. Mix in some good dwarven holy water, too, to keep it from freezing." He spits on the ground. "Blast, I bet my pipeweed's ruined too."

Bodies. They are moving.

The ropes were designed to keep them together. Make them easy enough to push or pull along. They were secured fairly well. But the bloated corpses appear to have a not isngificant amount of strength. Once one bursts a side of the rope, they all stagger to their efet and begin shucking and uncoiling what was left off, more as a matter of happenstance of dealing with what was restraining them than any intellectual desire. These things are not much more intelligent than regular zombies, it'd appear.

The missing bits of their bodies, of their flesh, appears to've been filled with moss. Moss pours out of their ribcages, out of their eye sockets, growing and breaking off them at an alarming pace. They vomit up still more moss. Horrible moss that sends these 'zombies' staggering up to the walls. They climb out based on motor memory and emereg to the lips of the cistern where the waiting adventurers and hired hands simply a ttack them. Gavisa's most succesful strike causes them to leak even *more* moss.

Zalara pauses of half a moment to activate her titan armor. The octagon metal backpack lights up and the thin metal strips move out to cover the vital parts of the artificer. She feels her reflexes become faster as she brings up her death ray and she takes aim at the amalgamation of zombies. She fires and hits them hard with her death ray. The zombies don't like the cold as their joints start to freeze up and they can't act as they normally would. She hits the recharge button on the death ray and it lets out a whoosh of brown steam...maybe it's not as waterproof as she thought.

Vennan takes time out of his busy schedule of scowling and grumbling unflattering things about his fellow adventurers to draw his longbow and ready an arrow. "Knew this was going to happen." He mutters, taking aim at the nearest zombie and solidly lodging an arrow in it.

Mel blinks at Jessa's declaration about conjuration magic on the strange gem, and while she advises kicking it, Mel's got a goblin army knife in his pack, and it probably has just the tool for the job. "That may take a bit," he realizes, considering the time it would take to fumble out the evil-gem-crushing tool, and instead opts to haul out his shortsword and try to bash it with the pommel. This is easier said than done, with all the zombies and growth and moss and such, and he just barely avoids cutting Hilal's foot off. "Sorry about that!" he declares.

Hilal blinks as the things break through his rope. He paid money for that rope. He wades into the battle, avoiding Mel's shortsword while Mel smashes the gem. "Just kick it in!" He shouts before his sword, glinting in what little light it has finds it's mark and cuts into one of the zombies. It comes out still shimmery and nice on the other end, despite spilling more...moss?

"Ceinara, inspire my companions to kill the hell out of these bodies that are already dead so that they stop trying to kill us please and thank you!" Everyone can feel the rush of divine energy rush from the tiny halfling priestess, filling them with blessing.

The creatures have poured out of the cistern now, yeah, and the moss is still growing. What injuries they've suffered so far appears to be being recovered in the moss! Like it's just replacing the bits and pieces cleaved or sliced off with more of itself. Yikes!

Angrid and Gavusa both get punched, hard, but it doesn't appear to be in recognition of nay threat they possess. Rather, it's more that they're... there. And in the way. Like they're operating on some sort of pre-created set of rules.

Fiona reaches out to stab someone. Moving quickly, with rapier and dagger she stabs at the mass of dead bodies. The rapier hits, poking into the mossy fleshy, “I hate undead.” she tells the trouble. “Apparently they are everywhere, In our ships, In our sewers...someone really really needs to do something about that!”

CLONK! Gavisa steps back, dazed. She purses her swollen lips and spits blood, then steps back into the fray. One blade sinks into the... thing, but is quickly withdrawn. The other rakes across it, forming a shallow gash.

Angrid rears back as one of the moss-covered zombie-things belts him, and he glares. "Bugger off, ye filthy little..." He slams his waraxe into its chest, staggering it backwards and spilling more of the moss down around its feet as he snarls, "This is like hacking at weeds!"

Vennan is really not enjoying this particular outing. All the rotted corpses, putrid smells, and horrible dank tunnels really aren't his cup of tea. He sighs, loads another arrow, and fires wide.

Zalara takes careful aim at the universally known weakness of the undead...there head. She times it just right and pulls the trigger on the death ray. The frosty ray of coldness hits the undead's head and talk about brain freeze. The brainpan is made of ice now and as the undead falls over onto the ground. It smashes into the floor and little bites of chilled zombie brain go all over.

Mel blinks as Hilal suggests kicking the gem away. "But then this will just happen someplace else," he says as he tries to smash it one more time. Raising the sword again, he slams down, but the stench is so bad his eyes are watering, and he winds up nailing his thumb instead of the gem. He backs away, clutching his thumb in pain. "Owowowowowow!"

"Fine!" Hilal snorts as he turns back towards Mel. He puts his boot on Mel's shoulder to shove him away from the gem just before he brings his longsword down, smashing it to pieces with a mighty roar. "There." He turns back around afterwards to re-engage the zombies. Just in case.

The gem *shatters*. There is a pulse of magical energy radiating outwards. The moss on the bodies *immediately* stops growing, no longer 'healing' them by replacing the bits with, well.. *more moss*.

This should make things easier.

"MY HERO!" Jessa shouts with delight at Hilal. But there are more important things to do. Raising her arms up, she concentrates and murmurs to herself in the halfling tongue. As she does, a rush of energy sweeps over her companions, healing their wounds.

With the moss no longer growing, Hilal becomes target number one. A sudden savage, moss encrusted fist *punches* him hard enough in the chest that it makes his heart skip a beat and the sternum crack. Hard. Along with a few ribs.

Gavisa gets hit again, as does Mel for the first time. It all sounds (and looks) very painful. But at least there's pnly four of them now, right?

As things start to get bad, there is that happy feeling again. That feeling of butterflies and rainbows and good touches of healing from some divine source. Fiona lets out a soft flutter of ahhing as it flows over her healing her wounds. Of course as soon as it hits, its crushed by the need to get back to work. A firm, flowing motion from the human. Her rapier and dagger swing again. Flicking through the air they take absolutely no purchase on the mossy flesh.

Gavisa gets slugged once more, the blow rocking her body. She manages to retain her balance, although one desperate slash of her blade passes harmlessly by the monster. The other, no less desperate but just slightly more coordinated, drives deep into the mossy fellow. It falls. She blinks. Oh. Right. She meant to do that.

Angrid is startled, first by the flash as the gem shatters, then by the healing pulse that causes bruises and cuts to knit and fade. As a result, his axe hisses past the zombie's face, as he grumbles. "Oy, I need eyes in the back of me head to tell when you lot are going to do something strange..."

Zalara reloads and she continues to fire her frosty ray at the zombies. It hits and it staggers the zombie that it hits freezing it and slowing down it's movements.

Vennan seems to run basically on autopilot in these situations. Just as soon as one arrow is loosed, another is loaded, and aim is taken. This one hits the mark, but only manages a glancing blow. The elf glowers in irritation.

Mel is suddenly in the melee! But at least he's got his sword in his hand already. He staggers back upright after getting the foot from Hilal, and shakes his head for a moment to clear it. The thing doesn't seem to be very fast, and it's pretty mangled as it is, allowing Mel to choose his time. Paitience ... he lets it sway one way, then moves in and hacks it down with a swift chop.

Jessa continues to concentrate on the energy coming from her, rolling out in waves of fiery-gold healing energy and healing some of their wounds.

The last two of them punch and swing away at Mel and Hilal with some success. Both of them are hurt. They don't seem to be doing much else, just standing there at the ledge, now that the moss isn't growing. They just...attack.

With a healing feeling and encouragement from Jessa, Hilal was riding high on his near victory. Too bad for him the zombie had other plans as it takes his wind from him, mid battlecry. It nearly brings him to his knees, but with a flash of his amber eyes, he cuts into the bastard deep.

Fiona moves again to attack the one in front her. She growls as one barely hits again and the second attack doesn’t do anything. “So going to replace...” she mutters about the dagger. Her Rapier though, tears off a chunk. Its vital chunk apparently as the creature falls.

Moss men dropping everywhere! Gavisa spots one still standing, and steps up behind her. Her blades lash out, but even though she's being all underhanded and cowar... err, tactical, those blades fail to dispatch the beastie. As she draws back the swords, having left it with ventilated kidneys, she pauses to consider that maybe it doesn't need those anymore. Well. Live and learn.

And then Angrid is there, clearly tired of this walking-dead monstrosity's attitude. "And -stay- down," he growls, his axe smashing the creature's skull to shards and sending it down permanently. "Damnation, they need to clean the whole sewers out with fire."

Zalara whews softly as she sees the last zombie go down and she nods, "Yah they do, but that'd injure the poor otyughs."

Fiona blinks as the last one goes down. “All in favor of going home?” She asks of the group. Giving a glance around as she slides her weapons back into their sheaths.

Gavisa looks down at the fallen enemy. "Uhm." She leans down and peers at it closer. Then she wipes her blades on the moss. "Dad would combat moss with a rake and some lime." She stands and sheathes those swords again. "Let's go home."

Hilal takes a second to breath in and discover just how difficult that really is before he stumbles back against a wall. He slumps down, sitting on his ass and shaking his head. With Fiona's question, he raises his hand, agreeing with her.

Vennan is readying another arrow, only to see that the enemy has been felled before he can fire. He sighs heavily, weapon lowered. "... I don't care for this city. But the worst part... the absolute worst part... is the sewers. No question."

Mel nods grimly about killing the sewers with fire. He raises his hand for going home as well. "Yeah." "Home and a bath. Five baths."

Angrid wipes off his axe. "Agreed. At the very least, we need to let the guard know there's something nasty brewing down here. They may want to send us back... although if they do, I vote we hold out for more money. Blargh."

Fiona nods, “And Brandy, Brandy and Baths...I am going to open a store. Brandy, Baths and Beds..Maybe it will be an Inn.” she nods slowly. Pointing to Jessa. “Tomorrow...” she states firmly. “You must tell me where to find your temple to morrow. Your deity aided greatly, a tithe should be given as thanks.” She nods firmly to this. Apparently good touches, mean much to Fiona.

The halfling priestess doesn't answer the others at first, concentrating and sending out more healing energy. Then she huffs out a sigh and goes and touches Hilal on the leg, murmuring a prayer and sending a surging and intense healing spell into the man. Looking up at him, she nods in satisfaction when the sees that the spell has done its work then she nods agreeably to Fiona. "It is outside the city's gates."

Well.

With the mysterious gem's remains shattered and the dead moss men, you have quite4 a story of the Guild. A story that they definitely want to investigate. What's up with the gem? And the men of moss? They want to find out. And they let you know that they're *going* to find out.

...after a long bath. For all of you. And money. You definitely get money.
[[Category:Log]]

A Land Down Under

2012-11-19T01:38:35Z

Fiona: Created page with "Players: Hilal, Gavisa, Mel, Vennan, Angrid, Zalara, Fiona, Jessa Title: A land down under Summary: A trip to the sewers. Oh dear. Splut. Splut. Splut. Splut. That's the ..."

Players: Hilal, Gavisa, Mel, Vennan, Angrid, Zalara, Fiona, Jessa

Title: A land down under

Summary: A trip to the sewers. Oh dear.

Splut. Splut. Splut. Splut.

That's the sound that is made with each step as you work your way through the sewers. Hired, as you all have been, to do the work that nobody else wants to do.

The recent merchant battles and more has left some more ordinary tasks by the wayside. Like this one.

"We've got an overflow in one section of the sewers. As usual, something is blocking it. Probably something horrible, and I don't mean horrible smelling. Whenever something gums up the work down there, all the horrile things you can imagine are usually the result. First, there's what you'd imagine. Then everything else accumlates on top of that, and that brings out all the horrible monsters. The otyughs, the carrion eaters, and more. That's where you come in. We've had a block for a while that none of the workers want to go near, and so that's your job. Go down there, clear the blockage, and then let us know if anything interesting is there once you've dispatched the horrible monsters that are sure to be feasting upon the awfulness."

And so you're down in the sewers. Splut. Splut. Splut.

"You know. I really don't like sewers," Jessa says. In case people were wondering. She is staring down at the ground with a look of vague horror but then, she is much closer to it than everyone else. "There are no parties to accidentally stumble upon with delicious drinks down in the sewers."

Mel smirks at Jessa's comment and agrees, "Yeah, that last job was a lot less smelly, too. I was sure you'd get into some kind of trouble for being so familiar with the client's booze and such, but no one seemed to mind. I'm still not clear on how that works. If I'd walked into someone's house and started drinking their drinks, I'd get arrested." He's got a rag tied around his nose and mouth, and he's got a long pole for poking things, in case that helps. Hopefully he's somewhere near the middle of the group.

Hilal is far less grumbly than everyone else. And quieter, at least verbally. He does make a note though. "At least I'm working with some familiar faces this time. Hopefully, nobody in the party will wish to try and bash my head in with a mace this time around?" He looks very pointedly at Zalara then before he asks Jessa, "Would you rather I carry you, priestess?"

"You know. Being a Muse gets you a -remarkable- amount of leeway." Jessa is making horrified sounds but then, the halfling is sinking up to her knees with each step. "I....cannot tell you how much I appreciate your extremely kind offer, my sweet, but it is too late already."

Zalara narrows her eyes over at Hilal as she brings that up, "Well hopefully someone can follow the plan and not have to win even when he's supposed to lose so we can get the job done." She looks at Jessa, "If you like I could build you some stilts for adventures like this."

Fiona chuckles. “If you don’t like them.” She starts out and winks at the halfling, “Drinks in the sewers.” Fiona frowns and shakes her head, “If its brown, Don’t drink it down. IF its yellow, Leave it to mellow...” She warns, “Over all No...You don’t drink anything down here. “What if you lose a boot?” Fiona wonders as she sinks down and frowns, “I am not diving into the muck to save your shoes.”

"Why do we even need sewers?" Gavisa muses in a thoughtful tone of voice. She taps her chin. "I visited a village where they just threw their crap on the street. It didn't smell very good, but it didn't have monsters under the village either. I'm sure that's a pretty good tradeoff." She reaches into her cloak and takes out a bottle of expensive brandy, opens it, and retrieves a scarf. She soaks the scarf, corks the brandy, and puts it back into her cloak. "I mean, what could really go wrong with that?" She drops the hood of the cloak, ties the scarf around her head bandit style, and slips the hood back on. "Mmside fnom th' nimconvenens," she adds in a muffled voice as she adjusts the scarf.

Angrid pauses, peering down. "Hm. Thought I saw a meat pie. False alarm." He paces onward, dwarfishly trying to ignore the scents and sounds around him. He really can't blame the others for being disgusted. "'Tis the wave of the future, lass," he calls back to Gavisa. "Of course, dwarves do it better. We use high pressure water to clean out the pipes."

"Oooh STILTS." Jessa likes this idea very much but then? She would. Then she eyes Gavisa. "You have never spent time in the hospitals of places that throw things in the streets." She points to Angrid. "That sounds....well. Wait. What if you fall in the water?" She frowns then has a moment of panic when one foot pulls out of her boot. She jams it back in. "Stilts."

“Sewers are needed, so we don’t have crap in the streets.” Fiona states matter of factly. “The question is, why don’t we have someone we pay to clean up the crap on the streets.” She points out. “I am sure someone would make a good living cleaning up other people’s filth.” She stops and looks down at her feet. “Silts would be good for you. Then you could pretend to be a human once and awhile.”

Hilal grumbles, "Unfortunately, people do get paid to clean out the crap down here...Us." He winces a bit as Jessa loses her boot but recovers, but the wince had made him lose his slight blush. Nobody ever called him 'sweet' before. "I vote that we hurry. I'd rather not be down here long enough to become ill."

Mel shrugs about the need for sewers. "Someone does make a good living cleaning up the filth," he points out. "That's us. We're going to make more for this than most families earn in a year. In several years. That's why we're here." He holds an everburning torch up to light his way, using a long pole for balance where the footing gets tricky.

"Ew. Why would I want to pretend to be a giant freak?" Jessa mutters. "You people are weird and oversized." She leans down and tightens her laces as carefully as she is able to without actually touching anything bad. "Yes. We need to get out of here sooner rather than later."

Gavisa reaches into that handy-dandy cloak of hers, and retrieves two short swords. Angrid receives a skeptical look. "Mnot sure I tnust water with phressure." She glances over and down at Jessa. "Good idea. The smell hwould scare 'way th' sicknness." She follows the valiant champions.

As someone who is actually bigger than most "giant freaks" Hilal just slumps his head down some, dejected.

Angrid continues to stoically march ahead. "Just don't go swimming in it, lads and lasses, you'll be fine. Once we're done we'll get someone to dump buckets of water on us to get the filth off, then it's off to a nice hot bath."

Schloop!

The sheer build up of... well... *crap* and not just of the kind that comes out the wrong end of a human being is clear evidence that you're getting to the right place. The walls are slick with slumey water and moss.

The sewers of Alexandria are an interesting place. They are one part real sewers, well build and constructed, one part ruins that were incorporated INTO the sewer system, and one part repair work that tends to bridge the gap between the two. This creates a somewhat schizophrenic looking design, at least as far as aesthetics and sewers that can be said to have them goes.

The stench, by the way, is nearly as overpowering as... well... actually it pretty much IS overpowering. Thankfully, your senses of smell are presently disintegrating anyways.

Zalara hmms, "Well my father is working on an automated cleaning machine for the sewers, but the city council won't hear him out. And there are the otyughs that eat everything that's organic which is most of the waste anyway." She sighs as the waste is built up and she looks around, "I don't think I've been down this far before."

"Last time I was down here a tentacle thing tried to eat me," Jessa says philosophically.

“OH yeah.” Fiona says and smiles. “What are we charging for this again?” She looks at the others and then chuckles quietly. “Hey we may be weird, but we are not oversized, You are just undersized.” She sticks her tongue out at the halfling. “Well then keep pressing forward.” Fiona states and points forwards. “OOh...watch out for wheel of cheese..I think its moving on its own. Well why aren’t there more things to eat this crap, and less tentacles to eat us?”

Mel wrinkles his nose, though that's hard to see under his makeshift mask. "I think there'd be plenty for the otyughs to eat, but something's got them scared off. That's why we're here, yes?" He smirks at Fiona, and says, "Enough to eat well for several years. Or, y'know, a few potions, or maybe a downpayment on a magic sword."

Angrid shrugs, armor clanking. "Don't ask me about economics, that's a subject for the priests." He pauses again, stopping to peer at some of the moss growing on the wall, raising his helmet visor to study it intently. "Hmmm."

Gavisa saves her breath for now, pushing forward. Even with the scarf reeking of brandy, this is decidedly not fun. It's all iiiicckkkky.

Jessa gives Fiona a blank sort of look, especially when the tongue appears. "You -do- realize we are not just strange human children, don't you?" Shaking her head, the little priestess squints up at Gavisa. "Do you have more of that booze? It may have to do for a refreshing drink down here?" Maybe being slightly drunk will make the stench not so bad. Then she drifts over by Hilal and gently pats his knee, beaming up at him.

Hilal would likely be blushing at being recognized more, but something about suddenly being surrounded by moss and well...other crap really unnerves him. Instead, his shield comes from his back as he becomes on edge. He doesn't try to get away from Jessa so much as move to be covering her from anything that may come from in front of them. "This can't be natural..."

Fiona looks at Jessa, “You’re a child? I thought you were an adult.” She offers actually confused. “OF course I realize you are not a human child. You ar a half folk..” She shakes her head, “That doesn’t make you any less odd..” She seems strangely confused by the little woman. “Seriously though, we are not going to be eaten by a tentacle monster are we?”

Gavisa looks down at Jessa, blinking sharply. She raises her hand, slowly due to the sword with it, and pushes up the scarf a mite with the back of her palm. "You're going to drink down here?" Pause. "How about food? I have an egg and shrimp paste sandwich, if you're interested."

Zalara hmms at Jessa, "Of course you aren't a strange human child. I am a strange human child." She continues to look as she hmms softly before she starts to look around for what's clogging the drains.

Angrid shakes his head at Jessa. "Let it be, lass." He lowers his visor again, tightening his grip on his axe and shield before continuing -- trying to breathe through his mouth. At least his beard acts as a sort of filter for the stink.

Mel groans at Gavisa's comment, but says generally, "You people are all sick and wrong." It's not nearly muffled enough by his rag mask. He tries to remain alert for whatever is going to happen next. It's his first time here, he has no idea, though based on rumors, he expects it to be bad. And gross.

Hilal has no idea what's going on either. No, he just has a bad feeling. Bad enough feeling to draw his sword as he presses forward.
Jessa contemplates that in all seriousness, studying Gavisa. "No. No, I think just a swallow or two. I'd rather taste that than the air." Perhaps the Muse operates best slightly inebriated? "Something on the ceiling tried to eat me last time," she points out far far too cheerfully.

Fiona frowns at this. “Well then.” She offers and looks up, “I guess its a good thing to be the shortest..” She glares at the ceiling like its going to betray her at any moment. The cheer in the comment is either not caught, or ignored. “Lets move faster! The faster we find the pile of poop that is clogging this, the happier we will be I am sure.” She yucks silently as she moves through the muck. Yeah lets just call it muck okay.

Gavisa carefully sheathes her right sword, and reaches in to retrieve the bottle, which she then offers to Jessa. "Got sticky, fermented beans too," she states, a little louder and more clearly than necessary. Possibly for Mel's benefit.

It's harder going now. The build up is definitely, well.. building up. The level of goo begins to rise untill it's at most people's knees. This makes it even worse for the shorter people amongst your numbers.

Up ahead, though, is the blockage. It's within sight at last. The moss is thicker here, but so the level of debris and, oh hey. it smells even worse.

That is because prat of the blockage is at least composed of bloated, liquifying human remains that appear to all be stacked against the plugged, blocked up gate. The man in charge said that there should be a lever somewhere nearby that you can pull that'll *open* the gate and should shake the debris loose. In this case, human being debris. Five of them.

They're not all that's causing the problem, of course, but...

Mel hears Jessa's comment, and looks up so fast he hurts his neck. And almost falls over. "Owowowow." Holding pole and torch in one hand for a moment, he rubs his sore neck and tries to keep his footing. Gavisa gets a pained look once he can move without hurting himself. Looking forward, he's nearly sick, though he opines, "Is that the last group that tried to clear this out? And ... if we unblock the flow, are we going to get swept away in the torrent?"

Zalara can even smell the scent though her re-breather. She hmms, "I'll have to strength this when I get home." She shakes her head, "Oh of all the ways to die I think this this way would be the worse way to die...killed by poop."

It is just as well that Jessa has taken a loooong pull on Gavisa's brandy, thanking her and passing it back. By the time they get to the blocked gate? She's in up over her waist and operating with a grim determination. One that is broken with a low "Eluna's tits, that's revolting" when she spots the remains.

"This is your fault. All of this is your fault somehow." Vennan grumbles to Jessa, trudging sullenly along behind the group.

A rat crawls out of the eye socket of one of the dead bodies.

Just so you know.

Angrid winces. "It could be worse, Vennan. We could have a gnome along." He shakes his head at the ruined remains, and rumbles, "Not sure if they died of the stink, or something else. They are... pretty crumbled." He cautiously begins to advance on the pile. "Jessa, stay back lass, I'm not sure how deep it is here."

"Something always does." Vennan grumbles, eyeing the disgusting mess ahead of the group. He may be taller than Jessa, but that certainly isn't tall enough to be sufficiently far from this horrible goo. "... Why does the Guild keep putting me on these assignments? Have I offended someone?"

Fiona frowns and looks at the bodies. “Um. Why are there bodies down here?” she asks and looks at the group. “Is it normal for bodies to be in the sewer...” She stops and looks at the group she is with, “Is it normal for dead bodies to be in the sewer.” she amends. “OR should we tell someone...”

Gavisa slips the brandy back into her pocket, and draws her second blade again. Just in case. "Uhm. There was a lever, yah? Or can one of the big, strong men pull them loose?" It never hurts to ask, right?

Jessa sidles over to Vennan and hisses something at him.

Zalara hmms, "Look at it this way we are helping people if this blockage wasn't cleaned the waste would come up through the sewer grates and everyone would get sick." She hmms, "Unfortunately, probably, there are bad people in Alexandria."

"It's my fault, Vennan. I begged them for anything that didn't involve gnomes. My luck with them has been... poor, of late." Angrid actually -shudders- at the memory, before prodding at the half-rotted corpses with the business end of his axe, seeing how securely the blockage is.

The bodies are rotted and look like they've been hre for a while. They are excessively chewed on. A lot of soft tissue on all of them is just ... gone. More rats scurry and swim along. One of them brushes Jessa.

Just so you know.

Jessa smiles sweetly at Vennan, nods. "Almost." Then she peers toward the ceiling. Supiciously. Then she makes a gagging noise and sidles away from the rat, eyeing it balefully.

Mel will move forward to try and help find the lever. "We'll move it up a bit at a time, but try to keep to the sides. The main ... blockage will come through the middle, and will be under the water, so it'll trip us up if it catches us in the feet."

Fiona shakes her head slowly. “no we are going to get sick and seriously why does everything revolve around dead bodies. Either they are coming back to life or clogging shit up.” she starts to look around for the lever that they were promised was nearby.

Vennan whispers something back to Jessa in harsh tones, his eyes narrowed. Then he looks over at Angrid, momentarially upset. He sighs heavily. "... I suppose I cannot judge you too harshly for that. The logic is all too understandable."

Vennan eyes the surroundings for a moment, then sighs heavily when his eyes land on something in the pile of bodies. "Oh, Daeus. It's... it's there. The lever." He points towards one of the corpses. "... I am going to have to pull it, aren't I?" He says with a sad, resigned tone.

Hilal says, "I can take care of it, if you are unable."

Jessa is too busy staring at yet another rat that appears to be eyeing her. "Please get us out of here?" she asks suddenly. She isn't afraid but there is an uneasy edge to the halfling's voice that is not something usually heard from her.

Gavisa sends both Vennan and Hilal a big smile. Of course, she's wearing a scarf, so they can't really tell. But, uhm. Her eyes are smiling. Or laughing. Something positive and endearing like that. Sure. "Great. That is so brave of you, gentlemen."

Mel tries not to get sick, but he'll move forward to help with the lever-clearing. "The war was never this bad," he mutters as he tries to use his long pole to move the body off the lever, but will reach in with hands if he needs to. If he really needs to.

Fiona stands there and nods to Vennan. She motions the man to the pile of dead bodies. “I am going to stand...Over there.” She motions off to the side and starts to head that way. “As soon as he pulls the lever...”

Hilal nods to Jessa, making sure that his amber eyes lock with hers before he does so. "Ok. I'll get us out of here." He moves closer to Mel and his pole, "I can get it." He says as he sheathes his sword and slings his shield over his back again. "Get the lever once I move him." He goes to move the body with his hands.

Angrid uses his axe to hook away bits, dragging them aside. "Sorry, friends. I'll commend ye at the temple once this bit of black work is done -- and after I've gotten three baths." He grunts, and his axe comes up with an arm stuck on it. "Dammit."

Zalara hmms as she starts to look around for the lever, "I don't see anything." She looks over to Jessa, "We'll get out of here as soon as we can."

Mel nods to Hilal since he's taken charge, and with the body moved away, he has a look over the lever and gate to make sure there's nothing amiss, not that he's a huge expert on such things. In fact, it's really kinda gross to look where the body just was, so he doesn't take a very careful look. Wrapping another rag around his hand, he'll stand to the side of the flow, then reach down to try and pull the lever.

"You have an arm on your axe," Jessa says gravely to Angrid. Then she's trying to stand on her tiptoes.

Angrid shakes the axe briskly, the arm falling off as Vennan finally locates the lever. "Stand fast," he advises, casually putting himself within arm's reach of Jessa. Perhaps he's just being overcautious, but if this does what he thinks it might...

Gavisa steps off to the side too. Fiona definitely has the right idea.

Vennan sighs with the infinite weariness that only an elf can muster. "No, no, I'll handle this. Who else would?" With a shudder of revulsion, he bats away the corpse and tries to pull the lever as swiftly as possible. Thank goodness for gloves.

Zalara moves off to the side and she goes to look to see what's going on. "Careful."

Crnnk.

Crrrrrnk.

At first, the lever doesn't want to move. Vennan really has to put his back into it. Then the gate opens.

Of course, what happens when a blockage and buildup suddenly is done away with? Why, a *sudden release* of pressure begins. And all of you are swept along in the current. Fun!

You are literally being flushed through the sewers at the moment.

Mel shrugs, gives way as his help is apparently not wanted. "Well, -I- would, I was doing so, but go ahead. Take charge," he says sourly to Vennan, and himself steps out of the way of any debris that might rush out under the gate. Which does precious little good as the torrent proves much stronger than he'd expected, and he's flushed away downstream. It takes all his willpower not to cry out, because opening his mouth would be sooooo bad.

Tiny little halfling? It probably is not especially surprising that she gets easily smacked around into walls and dwarfs and horrifying horrifying debris.

Zalara fingers something to hold onto, "Whoa!" She clings to the sewer walls as she tries to keep her balance and manages to do so. She looks around, "Everyone okay?"

Vennan bounces and jostles off various unpleasant things as the current carries him along. He somehow manages to do all of this with the same weary frown that he nearly always has. Like he expected all of this.

Angrid realizes he's got a problem when he starts sliding despite still being upright. He swipes at Jessa once, trying to grab the halfling, and that makes him lose his balance. And with a sound like a smithy collapsing, he goes crashing and clattering down the pipe, propelled by the torrent and thinking one khazdul profanity after another.

Having definitely not thought of it before, Hilal's amber eyes go wide when he realizes just what he's about to be hit with. It's not like he has long to think though as he's swept up in it. Having been close to a wall, he is dragged along it, taking a few jutting rocks directly to the face. "GRAB JESSA!" he tries to shout, but finds that it comes out more "GRAB gurgle...spit...jessa..."

Fiona frowns as someone goes to reach for the lever. Then it happens, she is flushed down the sewers. A mental groan happens as well as the sudden and utter feeling and need to take a bath. Oh and burn these clothes. She reaches out for the halfling woman as she starts to bounce off the wall through the sewers. “Screw Jessa...Grab me! I am a bit flushed...”

Zalara hmms as she reaches to pull out her goblin army knife. She points one end at Jessa and she puts the button. A line of rope springs out of the knife and heads towards Jessa, "Grab hold!" She waits til Jessa grabs hold before she presses another button to try to whirl Jessa in.

Gavisa clings to the sides, breathing heavily in case she goes under and has to go without for a terrible, terrible while. Who claimed that honest work is worthwhile? Because that guy might end up with some steel in his kidneys at some point.

Bang! Kerplung! Bang!

It's just not a great day. At some point, there is the distinct sensation of free fall as you're dumped into an opening. With all the debris. And bodies.

That are falling with you. On you. Around you. SPLOOSH.

You're all able to come to the surface eventually. In a manner of speaking, but dear gods, you might wish you'd drowned yourselves instead. Dim mana lights are afied to the walls here and it does not take you long to reach for the rim and climb out of the cistern, bit by bit, bruised, battered, and... gross.

Gross is the mild way to put it. Definitely gross, though.

For long chilling moments, Angrid does not surface, until finally he plods upwards out from the deep end of the cistern... covered in muck, dirty water, and looking downright offended as he rises out of the nastiness. "I am going to kill someone," the dwarf announces in a flat voice.

There's an almost desperate flailing from beneath one body and Jessa's trying to get SOMETHING out of her mouth. "PLEASE TELL ME YOU DID NOT LOSE THE BRANDY." She starts to pull herself up out of the muck. She...is not strong. This may take a while.

Needless to say, Vennan is completely and utterly filthy when he emerges. He seems to have avoided injury, but this does little for his mood. "... Your city is a terrible, filthy hole." He mutters.

Mel does scream as he somehow ends up in freefall, and then he's clawing, crawling his way to what passes for air here. And ... lights. He crawls out of the muck as best he can, looking back to see if there's anyone that needs his help. He'll help if he can, once he gets his bearings. "Ugh. What is this? Where are we?"

Fiona makes her way out, “I am done. I quit.” She states simply. “I don’t care how much this job pays, and they will pay me.” She points out to everyone, “I am -never- going into the sewers again. “I need to kill someone. No not someone. Just who ever caused those bodies to get there, so all of this got plugged up. So we had to come down here, to unplug it and get plugged into the pit of disgusting, Oozey shit. Who cares its probably covered in filthy, disgusting...” She grumbles.

For a big guy who has just taken quite the beating from a pile of crap and dead bodies, Hilal is pretty good at getting himself out of the muck. He laxidasically moves over to Jessa to pick her up out of it and put her back on her feet. "Well. It wouldn't have helped if I had been carrying you, it seems." He tries to shake off what he can from his hands. Just in case. "Don't lose it yet, everyone...we're not done here."

Not quite yet, no.

See, as you clamber out of the cistern, the cistern is already draining. Guess what that leaves? The bodies. Sitting on the bottom of the cistern. Along with some of tha debris. It looks ripe to plug that little drain down there. For the time being. Isn't life grand?

Zalara can't hold on as the water grows too strong for even her grip and she's soon sucked down. She manages to avoid getting hit or hitting anything. She falls into the water with a splash. She comes up and pulls off the re-breather. It wasn't made to handle being underwater and has filled with brown water. She coughs and throws up a little as she gets out of the water. "Reos save me."

Gavisa climbs out. Slowly. Carefully. She doesn't want to fall again. She removes her soiled scarf, and uses the less filthy parts of it to wipe her face. Then she walks a bit away from the rest, and spends some delightful quality time being ill. Noisily too. Might as well give a show.

Vennan is fine with getting himself as far as possible away from the bodies and the debris. That sounds like a splendid idea in face. He does so, glaring at everyone and no one in particular.

Jessa is gasping for breath and looks up at Hilel, smiling brilliantly at him. "Thank you." Then she peers down into the cistern and starts to swear in a variety of languages. Very inspiring. "Could we just...you know. Set them on fire or dissolve them with alchemial acid or something?"

Angrid removes his helmet, shaking it futilely. Even his beard looks spattered with dirty water as the dwarf glares at the cistern. "Who designed this? Even -humans- don't screw things up this badly! Ach, that came out bad..." He sighs. "We'd need dwarven firegel to ignite them, lass. Better to just break them down -- or retrieve them."

Moving to plop down Fiona huffs lightly. “I ...told you that you were not a human child.” Fiona states to Jessa. “You are the most brillant woman in the world. I say we burn the bodies. Get rid of them, done gone no more bodies, We should make a new religion where that is what we go around and do. Just burn bodies. That way necromancers are out of a job.”

"Gotta keep from having to come back here again..." Hilal says as he starts to climb down into the drained cistern. Being a Man of Action is shitty work. Pun intended. He draws his sword as he gets closer. "Maybe that everburning torch? Can that light these?"

Mel blinks at the thought of destroying the bodies, and objects, "Hang on, hang on. We're bringing them back up, right? I mean, it's hard to get any more disgusting than we are right now, but whoever they are ...were, their families will want to know."

Angrid calls out to Hilal, "Wait lad! Let's take some precautions." He opens his filthy backpack, extracting a coil of spidersilk rope, and wraps one end several times around his arm. Then he tosses the other end to Hilal. "Tie that to yerself, so we don't lose ye."

Vennan looks even more sickened than he did already. "Do you Alexandrians have no respect for the dead? We should alert the proper authorities so that these unfortunate souls might be given a proper burial." He eyes the disgusting, putrid pile. "... Authorities other than ourselves, obviously."

Jessa doesn't bother to look at Fiona, tuning her out as she inspects the cistern. "Well. I have spells that can cause fires and all. But. Could we even manage to match all the different body parts to the right bodies?" She's right back to matter of fact.

Zalara looks over at Hilal like he is dumb and she shakes her head, "Everburning torches don't give off any heat." She looks at Fiona, "Let's not burn the bodies, why don't we try to find a way out of here and tell others that they are down here. We've done our job and cleared out the blockage."

And that's when you see it.

There is something down there. Admist the bodies. Something that glints just so in the light. Sparkles.

Fiona looks at Mel, “It could go in your mouth.” She states simply. “I am not an Alexandrian, I say we find something that identifies them as them, turn it into the city watch when we leave. I mean I hate to say it but...how are we going to get pieces back up..,” She winces. “So you guys are saying we are done. Lets just leave them be, head back up, tell the town watch oH by the way there are some bodies and go home for baths?” she asks the grounds with a few nods. “Sounds great.”

Gavisa returns to the group, feeling a bit lighter. "No respect for the dead, indeed." She nods to Zalara. "Either that, or we can fish them up. We would just need a rope and someone... light." She studies Jessa carefully.

"OH OH OH LOOK AT THAT." Jessa is like a little magpie, getting all excited and pointing. "THERE IS SOMETHING THERE." And then she's being eyed and she gives Gavisa a suspicious look. "What?"

Zalara holds up the rope that she has from her goblin army knife and she starts to wring it out, "I've got some rope too."

Mel shrugs about matching parts with parts. "That's what priests are for. I'm sure someone from Vardama's temple could sort things out." Fiona gets a puzzled look, then he sighs, "I did mean it rhetorically." He nods, though, at what Zalara says. "This is true. We've done what they asked, and now it'd be nice to get out. If we can bring them back, it's good, but we really need to bring -us- back." He pauses. "Hey, what's that?"

"Something that someone else should fish out an examine." Vennan replies to Mel, now sulking. "I was the one who had to pull that damned disgusting lever. It is someone else's turn."

Hilal doesn't mind being looked at as if he's dumb. He is dumb afterall. "Well ok then, I guess we take these things up." He shakes his head as he retrieves his own spidersilk rope, tied around his body, and starts to tie it around the bodies in a sort of hay bale. A really gross hay bale. He turns to drag them off of the drain so everyone can see whatever it is that's shiny and causing their attention.

Fiona looks into the mud, “Something shiney..” she states and looks around, “so yeah...we gonna pick it up?” Fiona looks around for who is going to volunteer to go find the shiney. She watches Hilal work and knots her brow. Looking green around the gills she swallows lightly. “oh man.”

Mel frowns to Vennan. "Don't play hero with that, I was going to pull the stupid lever and you all but pushed me out of the way and demanded the right to do it." He'll help out in whatever plan evolves, though. "Soonest done, soonest out of here."

"You are doing very well, very abnormally tall giant!" Jessa is going to encourage whatever means she doesn't get lowered down on a rope, yes. "WHAT IS THE SHINY THING DOWN THERE TELL ME TELL ME TELL ME!"

Gavisa smiles at Jessa. "Nothing. Nothing. Just thinking of contingency plans." She steps over to look down at Hilal instead. "You never know if the big guy there needs some help." She pauses for a moment. "Or gets eaten by a tentacoo, like you all mentioned."

Jessa eyes Gavisa. EYES.

Zalara looks at Jessa and salutes her, "Good luck." She gets out her death ray and turns it on to make sure it still works. Good thing she waterproofed it.

"What the sewers is a tentacoo?" Fiona asks and watches Hilal work.

The bodies take some time to be moved. They are...goopy. And bloated. And gross. And have rats inside of them still.

Eventually, the shiny thing is revealed. It is a single, moss encrusted gem. Enough of its surface is visible to still glint appropriately, but the garnet is definitely held in a simple gold casing that has several runes inscribed on it. One doesn't haev to be a wizard to recognize arcane runes much of the time. Especially when they occasionally glow lightly.

And glow they do. Incidentally, those bodies look to be getting moss covered *awful* fast.

In fact, the moss seems to now be growing at an incredibly rapid pace down here.

All over the bodies.

Which have begun to move.

Mel acks as the things start moving, and his first reaction is to get his teammate out of there. He'll grab onto the rope and start hauling away, reeling Hilal back out of the cistern and away from the moving bodies and strangely aggressive mold.

Hilal blinks. "Oh cra...." But before he can get the words out of his mouth, he's hauled up and out of the cistern. "Thank you." He says to Mel as he holds up the shiny gem, seeming like the source of their problems. He drops it at his feet, able to be kicked into the cistern if necessary, but out of his hands. Then he draws his sword and readies his shield. "Someone look at that, see if they can stop this."

Angrid blinks as Mel hauls Hilal out of the way even before he can. "Huh, well done lad," he rumbles with a slight grin. He drops his end of the rope, sweeping his axe out and making sure he's got a sure grip before taking up a ready stance, shield in front. "And what've we got to deal with THIS time, hm?"

There is a rippling feeling of divine magic as Jessa chants out a spell in the halfling tongue. She points at the gem. "That thing is eminating conjuration magic. KICK IT."

Gavisa reaches into her soaked, foul cloak and takes out some almost as foul swords. Spotting MossMan climbing up, she stabs down at him. It. O, to have a more impressive weapon.

Fiona blinks as the bodies come a live. “Burn them, burn them now.” She screams as she starts to take a few steps back. “What the hell is it with this city that the dead like to stand back up.” She goes into a tyraid of cussing that would make many sailors blush. Drawing her rapier and dagger she shakes her head and mutters. “Alright. Bring it.’ She glares at the undead, moss covered creatures, “I am NOT going to die in a sewer.”

Angrid is a bit startled by how quick the damnable things come scuttling upwards, and he has to check his swing to keep from dropping his axe. "Blast... I told ye they need to use high pressure water to clean these things out. Mix in some good dwarven holy water, too, to keep it from freezing." He spits on the ground. "Blast, I bet my pipeweed's ruined too."

Bodies. They are moving.

The ropes were designed to keep them together. Make them easy enough to push or pull along. They were secured fairly well. But the bloated corpses appear to have a not isngificant amount of strength. Once one bursts a side of the rope, they all stagger to their efet and begin shucking and uncoiling what was left off, more as a matter of happenstance of dealing with what was restraining them than any intellectual desire. These things are not much more intelligent than regular zombies, it'd appear.

The missing bits of their bodies, of their flesh, appears to've been filled with moss. Moss pours out of their ribcages, out of their eye sockets, growing and breaking off them at an alarming pace. They vomit up still more moss. Horrible moss that sends these 'zombies' staggering up to the walls. They climb out based on motor memory and emereg to the lips of the cistern where the waiting adventurers and hired hands simply a ttack them. Gavisa's most succesful strike causes them to leak even *more* moss.

Zalara pauses of half a moment to activate her titan armor. The octagon metal backpack lights up and the thin metal strips move out to cover the vital parts of the artificer. She feels her reflexes become faster as she brings up her death ray and she takes aim at the amalgamation of zombies. She fires and hits them hard with her death ray. The zombies don't like the cold as their joints start to freeze up and they can't act as they normally would. She hits the recharge button on the death ray and it lets out a whoosh of brown steam...maybe it's not as waterproof as she thought.

Vennan takes time out of his busy schedule of scowling and grumbling unflattering things about his fellow adventurers to draw his longbow and ready an arrow. "Knew this was going to happen." He mutters, taking aim at the nearest zombie and solidly lodging an arrow in it.

Mel blinks at Jessa's declaration about conjuration magic on the strange gem, and while she advises kicking it, Mel's got a goblin army knife in his pack, and it probably has just the tool for the job. "That may take a bit," he realizes, considering the time it would take to fumble out the evil-gem-crushing tool, and instead opts to haul out his shortsword and try to bash it with the pommel. This is easier said than done, with all the zombies and growth and moss and such, and he just barely avoids cutting Hilal's foot off. "Sorry about that!" he declares.

Hilal blinks as the things break through his rope. He paid money for that rope. He wades into the battle, avoiding Mel's shortsword while Mel smashes the gem. "Just kick it in!" He shouts before his sword, glinting in what little light it has finds it's mark and cuts into one of the zombies. It comes out still shimmery and nice on the other end, despite spilling more...moss?

"Ceinara, inspire my companions to kill the hell out of these bodies that are already dead so that they stop trying to kill us please and thank you!" Everyone can feel the rush of divine energy rush from the tiny halfling priestess, filling them with blessing.

The creatures have poured out of the cistern now, yeah, and the moss is still growing. What injuries they've suffered so far appears to be being recovered in the moss! Like it's just replacing the bits and pieces cleaved or sliced off with more of itself. Yikes!

Angrid and Gavusa both get punched, hard, but it doesn't appear to be in recognition of nay threat they possess. Rather, it's more that they're... there. And in the way. Like they're operating on some sort of pre-created set of rules.

Fiona reaches out to stab someone. Moving quickly, with rapier and dagger she stabs at the mass of dead bodies. The rapier hits, poking into the mossy fleshy, “I hate undead.” she tells the trouble. “Apparently they are everywhere, In our ships, In our sewers...someone really really needs to do something about that!”

CLONK! Gavisa steps back, dazed. She purses her swollen lips and spits blood, then steps back into the fray. One blade sinks into the... thing, but is quickly withdrawn. The other rakes across it, forming a shallow gash.

Angrid rears back as one of the moss-covered zombie-things belts him, and he glares. "Bugger off, ye filthy little..." He slams his waraxe into its chest, staggering it backwards and spilling more of the moss down around its feet as he snarls, "This is like hacking at weeds!"

Vennan is really not enjoying this particular outing. All the rotted corpses, putrid smells, and horrible dank tunnels really aren't his cup of tea. He sighs, loads another arrow, and fires wide.

Zalara takes careful aim at the universally known weakness of the undead...there head. She times it just right and pulls the trigger on the death ray. The frosty ray of coldness hits the undead's head and talk about brain freeze. The brainpan is made of ice now and as the undead falls over onto the ground. It smashes into the floor and little bites of chilled zombie brain go all over.

Mel blinks as Hilal suggests kicking the gem away. "But then this will just happen someplace else," he says as he tries to smash it one more time. Raising the sword again, he slams down, but the stench is so bad his eyes are watering, and he winds up nailing his thumb instead of the gem. He backs away, clutching his thumb in pain. "Owowowowowow!"

"Fine!" Hilal snorts as he turns back towards Mel. He puts his boot on Mel's shoulder to shove him away from the gem just before he brings his longsword down, smashing it to pieces with a mighty roar. "There." He turns back around afterwards to re-engage the zombies. Just in case.

The gem *shatters*. There is a pulse of magical energy radiating outwards. The moss on the bodies *immediately* stops growing, no longer 'healing' them by replacing the bits with, well.. *more moss*.

This should make things easier.

"MY HERO!" Jessa shouts with delight at Hilal. But there are more important things to do. Raising her arms up, she concentrates and murmurs to herself in the halfling tongue. As she does, a rush of energy sweeps over her companions, healing their wounds.

With the moss no longer growing, Hilal becomes target number one. A sudden savage, moss encrusted fist *punches* him hard enough in the chest that it makes his heart skip a beat and the sternum crack. Hard. Along with a few ribs.

Gavisa gets hit again, as does Mel for the first time. It all sounds (and looks) very painful. But at least there's pnly four of them now, right?

As things start to get bad, there is that happy feeling again. That feeling of butterflies and rainbows and good touches of healing from some divine source. Fiona lets out a soft flutter of ahhing as it flows over her healing her wounds. Of course as soon as it hits, its crushed by the need to get back to work. A firm, flowing motion from the human. Her rapier and dagger swing again. Flicking through the air they take absolutely no purchase on the mossy flesh.

Gavisa gets slugged once more, the blow rocking her body. She manages to retain her balance, although one desperate slash of her blade passes harmlessly by the monster. The other, no less desperate but just slightly more coordinated, drives deep into the mossy fellow. It falls. She blinks. Oh. Right. She meant to do that.

Angrid is startled, first by the flash as the gem shatters, then by the healing pulse that causes bruises and cuts to knit and fade. As a result, his axe hisses past the zombie's face, as he grumbles. "Oy, I need eyes in the back of me head to tell when you lot are going to do something strange..."

Zalara reloads and she continues to fire her frosty ray at the zombies. It hits and it staggers the zombie that it hits freezing it and slowing down it's movements.

Vennan seems to run basically on autopilot in these situations. Just as soon as one arrow is loosed, another is loaded, and aim is taken. This one hits the mark, but only manages a glancing blow. The elf glowers in irritation.

Mel is suddenly in the melee! But at least he's got his sword in his hand already. He staggers back upright after getting the foot from Hilal, and shakes his head for a moment to clear it. The thing doesn't seem to be very fast, and it's pretty mangled as it is, allowing Mel to choose his time. Paitience ... he lets it sway one way, then moves in and hacks it down with a swift chop.

Jessa continues to concentrate on the energy coming from her, rolling out in waves of fiery-gold healing energy and healing some of their wounds.

The last two of them punch and swing away at Mel and Hilal with some success. Both of them are hurt. They don't seem to be doing much else, just standing there at the ledge, now that the moss isn't growing. They just...attack.

With a healing feeling and encouragement from Jessa, Hilal was riding high on his near victory. Too bad for him the zombie had other plans as it takes his wind from him, mid battlecry. It nearly brings him to his knees, but with a flash of his amber eyes, he cuts into the bastard deep.

Fiona moves again to attack the one in front her. She growls as one barely hits again and the second attack doesn’t do anything. “So going to replace...” she mutters about the dagger. Her Rapier though, tears off a chunk. Its vital chunk apparently as the creature falls.

Moss men dropping everywhere! Gavisa spots one still standing, and steps up behind her. Her blades lash out, but even though she's being all underhanded and cowar... err, tactical, those blades fail to dispatch the beastie. As she draws back the swords, having left it with ventilated kidneys, she pauses to consider that maybe it doesn't need those anymore. Well. Live and learn.

And then Angrid is there, clearly tired of this walking-dead monstrosity's attitude. "And -stay- down," he growls, his axe smashing the creature's skull to shards and sending it down permanently. "Damnation, they need to clean the whole sewers out with fire."

Zalara whews softly as she sees the last zombie go down and she nods, "Yah they do, but that'd injure the poor otyughs."

Fiona blinks as the last one goes down. “All in favor of going home?” She asks of the group. Giving a glance around as she slides her weapons back into their sheaths.

Gavisa looks down at the fallen enemy. "Uhm." She leans down and peers at it closer. Then she wipes her blades on the moss. "Dad would combat moss with a rake and some lime." She stands and sheathes those swords again. "Let's go home."

Hilal takes a second to breath in and discover just how difficult that really is before he stumbles back against a wall. He slumps down, sitting on his ass and shaking his head. With Fiona's question, he raises his hand, agreeing with her.

Vennan is readying another arrow, only to see that the enemy has been felled before he can fire. He sighs heavily, weapon lowered. "... I don't care for this city. But the worst part... the absolute worst part... is the sewers. No question."

Mel nods grimly about killing the sewers with fire. He raises his hand for going home as well. "Yeah." "Home and a bath. Five baths."

Angrid wipes off his axe. "Agreed. At the very least, we need to let the guard know there's something nasty brewing down here. They may want to send us back... although if they do, I vote we hold out for more money. Blargh."

Fiona nods, “And Brandy, Brandy and Baths...I am going to open a store. Brandy, Baths and Beds..Maybe it will be an Inn.” she nods slowly. Pointing to Jessa. “Tomorrow...” she states firmly. “You must tell me where to find your temple to morrow. Your deity aided greatly, a tithe should be given as thanks.” She nods firmly to this. Apparently good touches, mean much to Fiona.

The halfling priestess doesn't answer the others at first, concentrating and sending out more healing energy. Then she huffs out a sigh and goes and touches Hilal on the leg, murmuring a prayer and sending a surging and intense healing spell into the man. Looking up at him, she nods in satisfaction when the sees that the spell has done its work then she nods agreeably to Fiona. "It is outside the city's gates."

Well.

With the mysterious gem's remains shattered and the dead moss men, you have quite4 a story of the Guild. A story that they definitely want to investigate. What's up with the gem? And the men of moss? They want to find out. And they let you know that they're *going* to find out.

...after a long bath. For all of you. And money. You definitely get money.

Recent Logs

2012-11-19T01:37:59Z

Fiona:

[[Category:Logs]]
Roleplay is central to Tenebrae, and consists of a mix of scenes, grid, and PrPs. Here you may read some of the logs our players have posted, or wanted to share. This page may also be used to post logs for PrPs, to share an item for staff review, or to tell players about a great scene. Remember too, if you're RPing in a public area, a log may end up on this site. Most recent logs are at the '''bottom.'''

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|Aug 8, 2012
|[[Felicia's Very Sandy Birthday Party]]
|[[Emir]], [[Svarshan]], [[Mikilos]], [[Katja]], [[Sandy]]
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|August 23, 2012
|[[A Tea Cart]]
|[[Svarshan]], [[Jibbom]], [[Azog]], [[Sandy]], [[Mikilos]], [[Lumina]], [[Moonshadow]]
|-
|August 25, 2012
|[[Moonwatching]]
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|August 31, 2012
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|[[Jibbom]], [[Sandy]], [[Lumina]], [[Svarshan]], [[Locien]]
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|[[Social: BAD DOG!]]
|[[Kama'o]], [[Moonshadow]], [[Nadara]], [[Lumina]], [[Ashlynn]]
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|September 6, 2012
|[[The Best Medicine]]
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|September 8, 2012
|[[Social: Hangover]]
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|Sept 13, 2012
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|-
|Sept 14, 2012
|[[Career Day]]
|[[Ormarr|Wonderpony]], [[Jessa]], [[Mikilos]], [[Angrid]], [[Zalara]], [[Constantin]]
|-
|Sept 15, 2012
|[[PrP: Sanctuary Cleansing]]
|[[Jessa]], [[Melbert]]
|-
|September 15, 2012
|[[Not Yet a Knight]]
|[[Kerbasy]], [[Jareth]], [[Azog]], [[Cesran]], [[Mikilos]]
|-
|September 15, 2012
|[[Double Rainbow Man (Again)]]
|[[Svarshan]], [[Agril]], [[Jessa]], [[Constantin]], [[Selia]], [[Younger]]
|-
|Sept 16, 2012
|[[Coyote Meets Phoenix]]
|[[Jibbom]], [[Jessa]]
|-
|September 17, 2012
|[[Younger's Busted Leg]]
|[[Abrahil]], [[Younger]], [[Jessa]], [[Munch]], [[Chloe]], [[Lumina]]
|-
|September 18, 2012
|[[Thrax]]
|[[Savannah]], [[Jibbom]], [[Cesran]], [[Mikilos]]
|-
|Sept 25, 2012
|[[Hip-pest Reaction]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Zalara]], [[Jessa]], [[Moonshadow]], [[Ellerela]]
|-
|October 13, 2012
|[[Shamblers in the Woods]]
|[[Svarshan]], [[Leisel]]
|-
|October 15, 2012
|[[Clara the Lance]]
|[[Cinnamon]], [[Kerbasy]]
|-
|October 16, 2012
|[[Sandy is a Dandy]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Kerbasy]], [[Jinks]], [[Constantin]], [[Arissa]]
|-
|October 17, 2012
|[[Tent Fires]]
|[[Myrana]], [[Svarshan]]
|-
|October 17, 2012
|[[The Statues]]
|[[Eleia]], [[Kerbasy]], [[Boshter]]
|-
|October 19, 2012
|[[Challenge Beyond Our Means]]
|[[Albain]], [[Craft]], [[Svarshan]]
|-
|October 26, 2012
|[[Kittens Jessa Kittens|Kittens, Jessa, Kittens!]]
|[[Quint]], [[Jessa]], [[Sandy]], [[Svarshan]], [[Cesran]],
|-
|October 27, 2012
|[[There Can be Only One Pretty Pretty Princess|There Can be Only One (Pretty Pretty Princess)]]
| [[Azog]], [[Cinnamon]], [[Sandy]], [[Constantin]], [[Svarshan]]
|-
|Unknown
|[[Giant Pink Hips]]
|[[Gragnar]], [[Jessa]], [[Svarshan]], [[Sandy]], [[Jibbom]], [[Emir]]
|-
|November 13, 2012
|[[Till Death Do us Part]]
|[[Mel]], [[Ashlynn]], [[Zalara]], [[Eliathitae]], [[Fiona]]
|-
|November 16, 2012
|[[A Land Down Under]]
|[[Hilal]], [[Gavisa]],[[Mel]], [[Vennan]],[[ Angrid]], [[Zalara]],[[ Fiona]],[[ Jessa]]
|-
|November 17, 2012
|[[Once Upon a Jail Cell]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Myrana]], [[Svarshan]], [[Fiona]], [[Eliathitae]], [[Selia]]
|}

Till Death Do us Part

2012-11-19T01:31:25Z

Fiona:

Players: Mel, Ashlynn, Zalara, Eliathitae, Fiona

Title: Till Death Do Us Part

Summary:The Adventurers of the Explorer's Guild are called upon to solve an unusual marital dispute.

Log:

You've all answered a posting at the Explorer's Guild calling for a small group of adventurers, instructing interested parties to assemble in one of the guild's meeting rooms for further instructions. The group's client, an older woman of obvious Veyshanti ancestry, sits by the meeting room's large table. She's dressed head to toe in black clothing, and appears rather distraught. She keeps dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief as she awaits the adventurers.

Mel files into the room, looks up to see the distraught woman, and bows his head respectfully before taking one of the open seats. "Hello, ma'am," he says quietly, settling himself.

Fiona makes her way into the room at the appointed time and gives a look around. Refusing to give up her cloak in these chilly days, she pulls it tight to herself as she looks over the woman in the dark clothing. Saying nothing she sinks down into the seat, and then as if an after thought to not be rude she mutters a greeting similar to Mels. “Hello...” Her lower lip is bitten as she takes in the woman’s attire and then looks over to the man she knows little about and shrugs and then nods to the woman. Confusion maybe, or maybe the nonverbal question of, is this who we are supposed to meet?

Zalara comes in to the room as she signed up for it this morning. She gives a nod to the woman, "Hello there." She gives a smile before she goes tos it down and she nods to Fiona, "Hello I'm Zalara Copperbottom, artificer."

Eliathitae enters the room quietly. Her blue robe does prevent a lot of the metal from clinking against other metal, but the creaking of leather makes her anything but silent. She pauses at the black dressing of the Veyshanti woman, but does nothing beyond nod courteously and offer a small, "Good day, m'lady," after seating herself. The blue eyes of the coppery-blond llyranesi do not leave the Veyshanti's face for longer than a few moments.

Cluthing the slip of paper advertising the job in one hand, Ashlynn marches more than walks into the room with that determined frown she always tends to wear. Not her usual style of accepted application, for sure, but there she is nonetheless. Her head is bowed and eyes downcast as gesture of respect to the employer upon notice of the way the Veyshanti is dressed - a guess made at the reasons, considering what the Guild paperwork mentioned. She does not seat herself quite yet.

The Veyshanti woman sniffles, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief once more before looking up at the adventurers who have filed into the room. "Ah, hello. Thank you all for coming." Her accent is an immediate giveaway that she is probably a somewhat recent arrival to the city. "My name is Ferah Rashidin. I have a task I need handled, and I am told that your Guild has experience with matters of this nature." She seems uncertain exactly how to phrase what she says, hesitating for a moment. "There is a ship which plans to leave for Tashraan later this evening. Men have taken my husband on board. I need you to stop this."

Zalara frowns, "Why did they take your husband? What does the ship look like? Does it have a name?" She asks as she starts to check to make sure she has all her contraptions.

Blinking that she is addressed, Fiona offers a nod. “Fiona Eaglehart.” She offers an introduction back. “Ah I ...don’t really have a profession to speak of.” At least not one that is formal. When the woman starts to speak, Fiona gives her all of her attention. Blinking slowly the woman tilts her head. “Very good questions, I didn’t think men got kidnapped though.” the Tsuran continues quietly. “How have they taken your husband? Does he consent to going with them?”

Mel runs a hand through his short hair as he listens to the mission. "I have to ask this, ma'am, because of some confusion before," he begins, his tone hesitant. "Is your husband going along willingly and you want him brought back whether he wants to or not? Or has he actually been kidnapped?" As the names go around, he introduces himself, "Er, just Mel."

Eliathitae is suddenly taken in by the Veyshanti woman's story, not really noticing that the group is taking the time to introduce one another. She reaches her blue gloved hand across the table towards the woman in black's. Elly makes no attempt to take the hand or even touch the woman, just a silent offering of simple tactile comfort and reassurance. The look on the elf's face is one of rather genuine concern.

Ferah looks uncertain how to answer some of the questions being asked, especially the ones about her husband's willingness to be on the ship. "My husband, he... that is to say... he passed away last week." She says, with a very sad expression, reaching for her handkerchief again. "He was a trader. Very successful, sold Veyshanti spices here. The men who took him, they are from his tribe. They want to inherit his profits. I think they plan to do... unwise things to achieve that. They are on a ship called the Marid's Dance. All I wish is for you to return my husband."

Glancing amongst her companions for a moment, Ashlynn settles into a chair in somewhat awkward fashion, where she proceeds to sit in a manner that suggests her spine may not be entirely mobile. Well, either that, or that she's trying to stand at attention while seated.

Her words aren't exactly needed - the relevant questions are being asked by her companions - and so she simply sits there, tight-lipped, listening and churning the information over. The frown remains. It's a fixture.

Fiona blinks at this and then looks at the others, “I would say that is stealing then.” She offers as she blinks lightly. “well I do believe its safe to say his consent won’t be required.” Fiona offers to the others in the group with a weary smile. “ A nervous chuckle is given out. “What..um...What does his casket look like?” Fiona offers, “It might not be the only one on the ship, if they are partial to stealing bodies of persons...”

Eliathitae straightens her already fairly straight posture when the truth of the husband's status comes out. "I-I am so sorry for your loss, Lady Rashidin," offers the sildanyar finally. Elly, being new, leaves it to the others to ask questions and agree to anything. The jurisdiction of the Explorer's Guild is still foreign to her.

Mel ahhhhs, nods slowly, smirking at Fiona's remark. "You want us to bring back his body?" he asks the client, his tone businesslike. "You should have said. That's different." He nods as we're given the ship name, and says, "I'll help. It's not right, taking a man's body to do ... whatever it is they want to do. Bodysnatching's never good. Do you know much about the people besides the name of the ship?" he wonders.

Blinking in slight confusion, Ashlynn's frown grows just a little deeper as Ferah unfolds the story. "Do they have legal right to claim the body?" she speaks finally - doing so after a pause, as if meticulously picking words. A glance is given to the others here for the job, but that is all, for the moment.

Zalara bows her head, "I'm sorry for your lose. Why do they need his body? Shouldn't his inheritance go to his son or something like that?" She asks as she's not sure about the legal ramifications.

"Thank you." Ferah replies quietly to Eliathitae, with genuine gratitude breaking through her grief for a moment. "... The keepers of your city graves said they found the vessel he was to be buried in empty. I had my suspicions immediately, and I spoke to those he sailed with. There is no doubt that they've taken him to their ship and plan to depart in hours." She hesitates again before speaking to Ashlynn. "I... this is difficult to explain. I believe those of his tribe would feel they are justified in doing what they are doing. But he was my husband. I believe your city's laws would not allow this." She retrieves a small slip of paper which she holds out. "I have here the number of the dock where they are berthed. Is there... anything else I need to tell you?" She gives Zalara a long look, nervous again. "... Our customs are very different from yours. If they intend what I believe they intend... nevermind. All that is important is that he is retrieved."

A head tilt, bringing a small crack of the neck from Fiona and then looking from the others in her group for this task to the employer again. “How...” she starts to ask but drifts off as her question is asked and answered. Its obvious that was meant more as an internal question, but its out there now. But now, without a casket to carry the body in Fiona actually grimaces slightly. “OH..” Her lips her pursed, eyes lightly wide as she looks to the others in the group. “The number of the dock would be good..”She says attempting to regain her composure.

"Then I shall help detain them until the matter is sorted." Ashlynn decides after receiving her answer, standing up from the chair and straightening out. That's good enough for her, it seems. Weapons are settled back into place expeditiously.

Mel nods gravely about departing in hours, and says, "I suppose we'd better get a move on, then. We don't want to get there only to see them pulling away." He looks around to the other adventurers, rises from his seat as well.

Eliathitae, given that her first and only excursion on behalf of the Guild of Explorers involved entering into a house in which the house and its normally inanimate furniture and accroutements decided to attack the group, is a bit wary of what precisely the men in question aboard the Marid's Dance intend to do with such a body. It could be anything. Elly looks thoughtful and then sorrowful as she sighs, "In Alexandria, the body of a husband or wife should be the jurisdiction of the next of kin, the widow or widower, as far as I know. But, Lady Rashidin, you are not from here. And you say you know his tribe feels justified. I understand how you feel, and truly feel for your loss of your husband." Her hand is still across the table should Ferah feel a need for it.

"I know it is hard, but can you tell me what these men intend to do?"

Ferah sniffles a little, hesitating to answer Eliathitae. She does so in a quiet voice. "They have brought a wizard with them. My husband was kin to their chief. In the past, they have sometimes... used magic to prolong life unnaturally, when it is to their benefit. I do not wish to see that happen." She dabs her eyes again. "Now please, if there is nothing else... I wish to be alone."

Zalara frowns a bit as she hears this and she nods a little bit, "Thanks for the information. We'll do our best to get your husbands remains back.

Eliathitae has her brow deeply creased, giving the Veyshanti woman a small if sad smile. "Thank you, Lady Rashidin. I am sorry I had to ask such a difficult question. My name is Eliathitae, or just Elly, by the way." She pauses for a moment and, should the woman in black do nothing and say nothing as she has already suggested she would prefer loneliness, the llyranesi will stand and begin to leave the woman to her solitude.

And so, after making whatever preparations the group wanted to make, they make their way to the docks. It's just a little before sundown by now, and most of the dockhands have finished their duties for the day and have wandered off to the nearest tavern. However, the dock they've been directed to remains abuzz with activity. The Marid's Dance is an impressively sized merchant vessel, with three masts and a large frame which can hold quite a bit of cargo. Dockhands are loading crates up a gangplank while sailors, most of whom look to be Veyshanti, make preparations to cast off. Two large Veyshanti men stand near the gangplank, watching the workers as they load up the ship.

Zalara whistles a little bit as she sees the big ship. "This might be harder than we thought." She eyes the two large men standing near the gangplank. "Hmmm, so how do we find the body?"

�
Eliathitae murmurs, "There's something wrong about this. Yes, the husband's body is hers by Alexandrian law. Yes, I feel for the Lady Rashidin. But . . ." The llyranesi does not offer any further insight into her thoughts, furrowing her brow as she too notes the two guards, looking thoughtful.

Mel shrugs to Zalara, and says quietly to the group as we approach the ship, "So how does this work, do we just go up and demand him back? Tell them we've got a writ from the Explorers' Guild? We -could- ask, I think. Or ...?" he trails off uncertainly.

Fiona matches the whistle Zalara lets out. “I think we might have to search.” She offers in reply not so helpfully. “We could always ask them if they have seen any dead bodies lately. Maybe they don’t like them and are willing to help. I can’t imagine he is going to smell all that wonderful...I don’t know if I would want to be trapped on a ship with that.” Looking to Eliathitae, “Well when have you ever known someone to agree to allowing you to have the body of a loved one.” She shrugs. “Um...we can...” She shrugs. “Rum?” She offers and looks at the group.

Having introduced herself to those of her companions she is not familiar with (which, in this case, is most) as Ashlynn, of Gilead's Order of the Silver Arrow, the aforementioned has remained silent during their trek and come to carry an even deeper frown at Elly's sharing of the widow's confession. She's quite displeased about that particular prospect.

"Perhaps they will cooperate." Ashlynn says. There's a certain flatness to her tone, but even she doesn't believe that'll be how things go when individuals willing to employ a necromancer are involved.

Eliathitae looks at the others assembled. "I can try speaking to them, saying that we've heard word that a body has been reported somewhere upon these docks and that the Mourners seek it, but such would alert them?"

Zalara hmms as she looks around, "Maybe we can sneak on when they load up the cargo and sneak in that way."

The two standing guard continue to observe the workers load crates. They wear chainmail and have cutlasses sheathed at their belts, so it's probably safe to say they're there to keep people from boarding without permission.

"The law is on our side, and we must gain access." Ashlynn says, frowning (ain't that new!) at the two guards. Clearly, subtlety is something that does not generally cross her mind. "They may see reason in letting us past." Or they may have to be beaten to a pulp. One or the other!

Fiona motions for Ashlynn to take point them. “Well lets attempt reason them.” She offers and looks at the others, “Who wants to talk to them?I am not very good at people really liking what I say sometimes.”

Eliathitae takes a breath and steps forward. "I may attempt. But, the question is, what not to say?"

Eliathitaesighs, the coppery-blond braid of hers over her right shoulder and falling in front of her. "I can do as I said previously, if no other have any ideas."

“Well I would assume the question of “hey have you seen any dead bodies walking around.” Might cause them to look at us oddly.” Fiona points out. “Maybe.also don't mention we will be looting their boat. That might cause a bit of anger.”

Mel looks around to the others, nodding to Ashlyn and Fiona about trying reason. "I might have some luck at this," he says, and steps forward towards the two guards. "Good evening, gentlemen," he begins. "If I can speak to you a moment, we need to talk to whoever's in charge of cargo."

Eliathitae blinks her blue eyes repeatedly at Fiona. "I . . . will do my best to endeavour to avo --" and then Mel is walking up to the guards. "Oh."

The two men exchange looks with each other before looking at Mel and the rest of the adventurers behind him. One of them steps a little closer. "The captain is making ready to cast off. If you have a message for him, I can bring it to him." He says simply.

Ashlynn follows in step with the more... socially-inclined members of the party, simply looming over the group and falling back to the role of a bodyguard, a role she's familiar enough with. She - blessedly - keeps her mouth shut for the moment, allowing those with more glib tongues to do the talking.

Eliathitae steps forward without discussing things, "I understand that the captain is prepared to cast off. There has been sightings of illegal cargo on these docks and we are doing routine checks before any ship may cast off. I am sure your Captain received such information from the dockmaster?"

Zalara hmms a little bit as she watches Mel go up to talk to the guards. She follows along behind as the others go although she looks all over for a way to get in without the two guards noticing.

Mel looks back to the others when the guards deny us access, then turns back to the guards. "One piece of your cargo ..." He cuts off when Elly speaks up, then follows up, "Sorry this comes at the last minute, you know how these things go. We'll be as fast as we can," he offers helpfully.

The guard looks back over his shoulder at the other one, who shrugs. The first guard looks back at the adventurers. "... Let me go get the Captain. Maybe he'll speak with you." He turns to head back up the gangplank alongside one of the dockhands. The remaining guard stays where he is, now watching the group with a touch of curiosity. "You are... inspectors?" He looks rather dubious about this.

Eliathitae nods, straightening her posture as if she's been doing this a million times. "Yes, from the Guild of Explorers. We wouldn't be here if it weren't for the reports of the cargo. We just want to get this over with so we can all go home."

Fiona makes her way behind everyone and looks around. Biting her lower lip she goes up to her toes to see if she can see anything on the ship. Nodding at whatever the others say she looks to
the boat to see if anyone is watching them.

Mel looks relieved that they're going to get the captain. If nothing else, we can waylay him and these two and have our run of the ship. To the remaining guard, he attempts to marry up Elly's comment and some sort of official position by saying, "Yes, we're contracted out by the Explorers' Guild. They do a bit of everything there. But yes, we're here as inspectors."

Zalara hmmms as she wanders off a little bit to watch the cargo being loaded. She hmmms softly as she tests a couple of crates to see if they are sturdy or could be open easily.

Ashlynn, for her part, uses her superior height to keep an eye on the cargo-loading process, without offering a single word. She remains at Mel's and Eliathitae's side, as straight-backed and frown-ridden as ever. She'll likely get wrinkles from that at some point, likely sooner than anyone rightly should.

"Huh." The guard replies. He doesn't exactly seem to be one for conversation. After another couple minutes, the guard returns. This time, he's followed by an even larger, more imposing Veyshanti fellow. Judging by his very large hat and beard, as well as his expensive-looking scimitar, it's probably a fair guess that this man is the captain. While he looks mostly human, his eyes are entirely white: no iris, no pupils, probably a hint at some distant nonhuman ancestry. He appears somewhat irritated, stomping right up to the front of the group. "You are inspectors?" He asks, in the same accent Ferah had. "We were inspected just earlier today. All taxes were paid. What is the meaning of this?" He asks, scowling.

Now, the adventurers do seem to have attracted some attention. A few more armed sailors have come to the edge of the ship, watching the captain storm out. With them is a figure in a darkly colored robe, with a hood obscuring his face.

Fiona moves to help Zalara start looking over boxes. There is little she can do to help with the speaking part of this, but at least she can make it look like she is really inspecting cargo. Leaning down she sniffs a few boxes and wrinkles her nose. She looks at the others and then at the Captain before looking back at Zalara. She falls quiet as she can looking around her.

Eliathitae does her best to sigh exasperatingly, tossing her braid over her back with an irritated look to her blue eyes. "Look, captain, we all have places we need to be. The normal inspectors have already been around this morning, that's normal. Do we look like normal inspectors to you? It's a temporary action in place simply because of the reports of some illegal cargo that has been floating around. Fortunately, this is a rare occurence that the Guild of Explorers is called out, but here we are. If you'll just let us have our look, we'll be on our way."

Mel stands up before the captain and suppresses a wince as Elly continues with that bluff. He says, "We're sorry about the confusion, Captain, we're here not here about the taxes, as she says. We're here about one particular piece of cargo. You have a body on board, a Mister Rashidin, who needs to come off before you get underway. If you can help us out, we'll be out of here lickety-split, we don't want to impact your schedule.”

Zalara looks back at the others and she winces as she hears Mel just tell why they are here. She moves her hand towards her death ray and she makes sure she has some over behind the crate.

Ashlynn's eyes flick away from the cargo as an audience begins to build, and thus the tension rises all around. Someone may do the foolish thing and draw a weapon, and if it happens, she'd rather be ready for it. The robed figure gets no more attention than the rest of the sailors, though - articles of clothing, no matter how dark, should not rightly be indication of morality.

The captain scowls at Eliathitae. Well, probably at Eliathitae. The unusual nature of his eyes makes it a little difficult to tell exactly where he's looking. "We have no illegal cargo. All we have are Alexandrian lumber and grain. I would never trade in narcotics or other contraband." When Mel asks the question more directly, his eyebrows rise. "Rashidin is my family name. My brothers and I own this ship. I think you are mistaken, friend."

Fiona blinks at this and then sighs lightly. She makes her way back to the ones speaking. “Do you have a wife? Ferah..” She wonders now. Her head tilts to the side as she looks the captain over a bit closer now. “Or a sister in law..”

Eliathitae is momentarily taken off-guard, blinking, but decides to wait for Captain Rashidin's response to Fiona's sudden question about Ferah's relation before she makes any efforts one way or another.

Mel ahhhs as the captain identifies himself. "I see. If you've only got lumber and grain, then there won't be any bodies on your cargo manifest? You won't mind if we take a quick look, of course? Just so we can all say that we've done so." Although, the guy in the robes does tweak his suspicious streak. Now we have to look for Zombie crewmen also?

Zalara continues to pretend to look at the cargo and she glances over towards the others to see how they are doing talking to the captain.

"Of course. My brothers and I are all married." The captain replies. There is a pause, then a little grin appears on his face, displaying a prominent gold tooth. "Ah. You have been sent here by Ferah, yes? She has grown too used to your decadent Alexandrian lifestyle. How she tried to talk Qitar into delaying the voyage. Please, pay her no mind." He gives Mel a little glare. Maybe. "Again, your city's inspectors already checked our manifest when we paid our taxes. Grain and lumber, nothing else. My brother is quite busy making preparations to cast off. And if there is nothing further, I should join him." He turns as if intending to head back up the gangplank.

“Why don’t we come on...we can chat with him while he works. and JUST before you pull the ah..” Fiona motions to the gangplank. “Planky board thing away from the dock, we slip off. Please..listen we were hired to do a job. Just like you, Some of us have card games to get back to.” She beams to the captain. “We can carry on a few boxes.” She motions to the cargo. “Help you out, Help us out, questions get answered, you get under way.”

Mel will follow the captain up the plank as if he were invited aboard. "Indeed, sir, the manifest was checked. But the cargo was not searched. You see, his body is missing, and it may be aboard. The more quickly you let us on, the more quickly we can inspect and determine that he is not on board." He's oh, so helpful.

Eliathitae follows Mel, looking as resolute as she can manage. "I know it is a frustration, Captain, but we do still have to follow our orders and inspect each ship on behalf of the Guild of Explorers for the illegal cargo, as my colleague says. Your men can continue about their work. We will only be a short while. I am sure all you have is lumber and grain."

The captain pauses for a moment, midway up the gangplank. He looks back over his shoulder in Eliathitae's general direction for a moment, then looks at his guards, "... Very well. I shall show you to him. He is below decks. Follow me." He gestures to his guards, who edge to the side to allow the group to pass. The figure in the hooded robe, along with the other sailors on deck, likewise move aside to allow the group to follow the captain.

Ashlynn is growing more suspicious of the situation by the minute. A glance is given to Eliathitae - a questioning one, the woman clearly placing a lot of faith into the priestess' wisdom. She stomps right after the pair going up the gangplank - remaining behind them to guard their backs, as necessary, but not butting in on the conversation. It seems she trusts them with it fully, for the moment.

Fiona moves quickly up the plank behind the others. She narrows her eyes at the captain and sighs. She shakes her head slowly and starts to look around the ship as they go up the plank onto the ship. “Thankyou Captain.” She offers quietly.

Eliathitae follows quietly, keeping her suspicions to herself. She looks over her shoulder to Ashlynn and gives her a bit of a frown without saying a word. "I hope we have not wasted your time. I was really hoping to be done this before sundown, and there are still more ships to do."

Zalara hmms as she's not really good at telling when other's are lying or not. She does keep her death ray handy as she continues to look around.

And so, the adventurers head below decks, following the captain. He wordlessly leads them down past the first deck, where the sailors have their hammocks. Then down through the second deck, packed with crate after crate of the ship's cargo. He leads the crew straight down to the darkest, deepest recesses of the ship, the bottom-most hold. Oddly, it seems to have been converted into a cabin of sorts. There's a bed and a desk, where a hunched figure with white hair scribbles at a ledger. "Qitar? You have visitors." The captain calls, gesturing for the adventurers to descend the stairs.

Mel finds it wildly suspicious that this guy is both alive and locked way down here. With an eye to not getting the door slammed and locked in the bottom of the hold ... why -is- this guy stuck here rather than in a regular cabin, or helping out on deck ... with an eye to not getting locked down, he stands at the top of the stairs and calls out, "Mister Rashidin? Your wife Ferah sent us to bring you home. You can come with us."

Eliathitae does not say a word, still silently dreading the moment her first non-truth in a dangerous situation especially will strike them down or worse. She barely suppresses her own internal grimace. She is keeping her eye out now, leaving it to Mel to field this since he has already started.

Fiona turns to look at the door of the room, attempting to make sure that no one is going to come up behind them any time soon. “Please.” She adds to Mel’s statement.

Nodding slightly at Eliathiatae as if to indicate she's got her back, Ashlynn follows the group down, down into the bowels of the ship. The hunched figure is eyed critically - and so is the captain, for a moment - the woman remaining as tense as the string on her bow. Something funny is going on here. She's not certain what, but something is, and by the Gods she will find out what!

... Eventually. Ashlynn's methods are more reminiscent of an angry bull charging and smashing a wooden gate - and that just leaves a whole lot of gate-bits lying around, as well as an angry gate-owner. It's better, thus, to let the more talkative ones try their, more subtle methods first.

Zalara hmms as she looks down at the person if you can still call it that. She does not like undead and she looks back to the captain, "What did you do to him?"

When the adventurers call out to him, the hunched figure by the desk slowly turns around to face them. It's immediately apparent that something is wrong. While his clothing is of fine quality, his face is nearly skeletal. His mouth hangs open, and his eyes have been replaced with dim glowing red lights. The creature is clearly undead.

In the same moment, the captain draws his scimitar, pointing it at the adventurers. The two guards have followed him at a distance and now file in behind him. The three of them effectively block the stair back up to the deck above. Further back is the shadowy figure in the hooded cloak, who was lurking up on deck earlier. The captain now speaks in a low, grim tone. "Remove your weapons slowly. Live slaves are worth more than dead ones, but you will be struck down if you resist.

Eliathitae tries, again, the peaceful way out of this. "Captain, with all due respect, we are members of the Guild of Explorers. Even were you to take us prisoner, what makes you think you will even get out of this city?"

Mel acks when the zombie fellow looks up. "Ah, I see you don't want to be disturbed," he says flatly, nudging the hatch back closed with his foot, "sorry to have bothered you." When the captain's scimitar comes out, his hands go straight up over his head. No heroics here, no sir. At the command to remove weapons slowly, he complies, and comes forward to hand his sheathed sword to one of the guards. "Ah, I'm good with being alive, sir," he offers helpfully. Though if he can get close enough, he's going try to pop one of them in the face with a sucker punch.

Fiona sighs deeply. “Alive is the way I prefer...” She says as she starts to go for her weapons. She doesn’t take them off of her yet, “And I am not resisting, but perhaps you would like to make a deal...” She offers.

It's only Eliathitae's words that stop Ashlynn from immediatelly howling a warcry and cleansing what is clearly an abomination from the face of Gaea. Instead, with the priestess of Althea speaking, the archer-woman halts herself abruptly - twitching, once, as she battles to quell the urge. One can hear her teeth grinding.

The captain chuckles darkly, the sound echoed by his two minions. "We'll be casting off in minutes. Your slow Alexandrian ships will have no chance to catch us by the time they realize you're missing." He quickly points his blade at Mel. "Stay back. And remove your weapons. I won't ask again." The undead creature lurches as if intending to stand from his seat. The hooded figure raises a hand to it, and it settles back down while making an unsettling moaning sound.

Eliathitae raises her chin as the captain (and his minions) laugh. Anyone who's watching closely enough will note she's shaking. Elly attempts to continue the route of peace all the same, "Clearly you recognise my robes, my armour, and my shield. You know I am a priestess and this . . . abomination does not frighten me, if I am armed or no. There are more of us than you. We said we are envoys of the Guild of Explorers. The Guild will send more. Even if you sell us into slavery, we will be found and you will be punished."

Mel steps back for the moment as the captain points the blade at him. "Sorry, sorry, I'm not doing anything, nosir!" He thinks a moment. "Apart from removing my weapons. That's what I'm doing." Though he's not really doing it very efficiently. He'll play for time to see how Elly's words take them.

Zalara takes out her death ray and she starts to power it up. She aims it right for the captain and his goons, "Now you can either get out of here or I can blast a hole in you and your ship. We'll take the dead guy with us too."

The captain narrows his eerily white eyes when Zalara draws a weapon. "... Very well then. We'll do this the hard way." He then scowls at Eliathitae. "Let's see if your faith will protect you!" The other guards draw their scimitars, the cloaked figure raises his hands, and the undead fellow rises from his seat. Clearly, things are about to get ugly.

Mel groans inwardly as the weapons come out. Of course they were going to be fighting anyhow, but he would have rather it not been quite like this. He has a half-step jump on the situation, though, having been ready for things to work out this way, and he dodges past the captain and the guards, before they can quite change from threatening to fighting. He lashes out at the evil priestly fellow with his shortsword, and wounds him, but fails to bring him down with the surprise attack. "Uhoh," he groans, and prepares for the worst.

Fiona moves quickly, almost as quickly as Mel. Rapier and dagger are drawn as she moves with Mel to get close to the cloaked figure. she swings at the man, missing him wildly as she does. Grumbling she mutters and looks at her rapier.

The captain's milky eyes narrow in anger as he whirls around, slashing Mel with his drawn blade. Fortunately he only scores a shallow cut, but it's painful all the same. The cloaked figure staggers back, his hood falling away. He resembles the captain, with the same oddly white eyes. His head has been shaved, and his beard trimmed to a goatee. The undead figure at the desk lurches forward, reaching out to strike Eliathitae with a curled fist, striking with surprising force.

"DEFILERS!" Ashlynn howls as hell finally breaks loose - the first sign of true, unhindered emotion to her beyond her usual frowning. "Your own kin!" she continues, clearly affronted, as the bow is slung off her shoulder and proverbially flies into hand. An arrow is drawn, the tip pointed without hesitation at the undead menacing the priestess - and unleashed, let to spear through drying, dead flesh, where it sticks with a dull thud.

Eliathitae was not ready for the punch from the zombie, her shield not quite readied as she takes the punch of the undead in the side of the face. Stunned for a moment and not even attempting to pull her longsword, she immediately prays to the Blessed Lady, drawing forth energy through her training specifically to harm the undead, especially that one who just bruised her face. "I said, I do not fear this creature!"

The bald-headed man in the cloak sputters and recoils, the effect of the assault leaving him unable to act for the moment. The scimitar-wielding men seem to have focused on Mel as the greatest threat, surrounding him and swinging wildly. One scores a blow to his chest, adding another deep cut to the unfortunate fellow.

Zalara activates her titan armor and her octagon shaped backpack lights up as the thin metal plates emerge from it and move around her body to protect her. She flips the switch on her death ray to it's frost setting and she fires at the necromancer. The only shot she had was a glancing blow, but it hurts the bald necromancer and the cold energy of the ray manages freeze him almost solid. The death ray starts it's recharge cycle as it lets out a blast of steam.

The wizard, while recoiling, manages to cough out a magical phrase. He reaches out to grab Mel's arm, giving Fiona the opportunity to cut him again. An electircal arc pulses out, leaving Mel with another burn.

Mel franticly evades the blades flashing all around. There's a couple close calls where sharp steel skitters across his mail shirt, but he avoids taking a killing blow. He's not happy to be where he is, but he's had worse. He sees the priest trying to cast a spell, and slashes wildly with his blade, but can't connect, and when the man grabs him and jolts him, he screams in pain. But he has enough presence of mind left to hack at the fellow with his blade again, and this time, he strikes the man down. Mel is left crispy and a little dazed.

“MEL!” Fiona screams and quickly moves as he is scorched by the spell. She flips into position with one of the guards and takes a swing with her rapier again. Cursing as she misses. “We have to...” She starts out and starts to cuss at her rapier. “Work darn it.”

The captain sneers, white eyes practically glowing red with rage. "Brother!" He lashes out to cut Mel once again in angry retribution for felling the bald fellow, drawing enough blood to drop the rogue to the floor. He quickly whirls around, teeth gritted with rage. Meanwhile, the undead horror moans with anguish and anger, lashing out to strike again at the priestess. It swings twice, both blows going wide.

Drawing arrow after arrow with practised ease and speed - not to mention the fury of a Gileadite battling an undead - Ashlynn unleashes the projectiles upon the shambling corpse. The sounds of the impacts are unsettling as the arrows embed in its torso, joining the first, and each makes the abomination wobble - but it keeps going, being shot or not.

Zalara takes aim at the captain as the necromancer goes down and so does Mel. She narrows her eyes as the death ray finishes recharging and she fires the icy beam at the captain. It hits and hurts him,b ut he's able to avoid the chilling effects of her ray.

With Mel downed, the guards turn back around to face their nearest foe: Fiona. Both step forward and swing their blades at her, once of them scoring a blow that leaves her with a painful looking gash.

Eliathitae cries out as Mel goes down, and again focuses on bringing more energy from the Healer, this time instead working on trying to heal the living so they can fight longer. "No! Mel! Come back to me, come on . . ." murmurs she as she apparently doesn't have too much energy to draw.

Fiona screams as she is hit. She moves quickly, rapier flickering first, then dagger. The rapier draws about as much blood as the man drew on her and she growls out. “HOLD STILL so I can stab you.”

The captain now joins his minions in the attack on Fiona, although his strike is easily deflected. Meanwhile, the horrible undead Qitar is still trying to grab ahold of Eliathitae, making horrible noises all the while.

"Dishonorable lout! You who would make abominations of your own blood! And with no courage to face an enemy in equal combat, you fall upon the meekest in a swarm like a rat!" Ashlynn bellows at the captain, words punctuated by adding to the arrow collection upon Qitar. The final one pierces deep until only the feathers remain on the side it was shot from - and with a final unnatural moan, the undead collapses upon the floorboards.

While one of the guards seems to be having a great deal of difficulty scoring a blow, the one who Fiona struck has no difficulty striking back. He slashes at her angrily, scoring a much deeper cut across her torso.

Zalara continues to keep her aim trained on the captain as the death ray finishes recharging. She fires a stream of cold energy trying to freeze the captain to the bone, but so far he's proven able to outlast her cold.

When Mel wakes up, Fiona moves quickly, Her rapier and dagger flickering again at her foe. She lets out a scream of challenge hoping they won’t see that her friend is threatening them. She is hit again, it causes her to let out a scream in pain, “I COULD USE A LITTLE GOD TOUCHING RIGHT NOW..” She calls out. “Please!!”

"My brothers!" Shouts the captain, white eyes nearly red with rage. He slashes at Fiona, but his blow goes wide. Very wide. Really, it's almost embarassing.

Mel grunts woozily as he comes around, weak and shaky as conscious returns, just barely, and he finds himself on the bloody deck of the ship. Looking around, he realizes he hasn't been shipped off, that the fight is still ongoing! He quickly takes stock of the situation, shouting to try and get the one guy's attention off Fiona, at least for that critical moment. Buoyed with hope as she tags the fellow, Mel tries to finish him off, but misjudges his attack because of the blood loss and the fact that he's still on the ground. Whoa, the world is spinning! Eyes rolling back, he flops back onto the ground.

"Turn around, slaver! Turn around and face justice!" shouts Ashlynn - and she says it with conviction, in spite of it sounding like it came straight from some religious scripture or a cheap hero novel.

Alas, the arrows she punctuates the challenge with... one embeds into the wood of the hull and vibrates there, and the other just ruffles the tip of the feather upon the captain's hat in its fly-by.

Eliathitae despite her difficulties with healing before, as the combat grows more dire, so does the Blessed Lady's heed to her call. She is standing almost over top of Mel as she again calls forth that positive energy, managing just enough control to have it not affect the damaged living opponents.

Zalara continues to aim at the Captain and this time she manages to hit him where it hurts. The cold injures him badly and he feels the cold all the way down to his bones. She smirks if he's going to ignore her she's gonna keep firing at him.

One of the guards, the one that was doing all the talking earlier, certainly seems to be a more gifted combatant than the other one. Despite his wounds, he lunges forward with increasing rage. He lands a solid cut right at Fiona's neck, a painful and very dangerous injury.

Mel wakes up again, only moments later, still prone, but realizing that he's not much use that way. And once he realizes it, he checks himself for injuries quickly, and when he works out that his entrails aren't dragging across the deck, he crawls away to get clear of the fighting before standing up.

When the captain goes wide, Fiona grins at him. She moves quickly, attempting to finish off the guard that had been attacking her. A warm feeling of good touching comes to her body. Flowing through her and closing the wounds. “OOOh Bless you.” She calls out to the priest. Then she is smacked hard, by one of the guards. She growls and narrows her eyes at him. She is not going to go down without a fight. Lunging forward her rapier goes through the man, Her action having profit as she falls he falls with her.

The captain howls in anguish at the loss of his brothers and his loyal guardsman, lashing out with another strike at Fiona. Or maybe it was meant to be a strike at Eliathitae. The lack of pupils and his generally poor swordsmanship are making it somewhat difficult to tell what his intended target actually was.

Ashlynn decides that words aren't going through the red haze that is the captain's mind. She decides, thus, to focus on making her point a little pointier - with, in fact, two separate points. The ones on the arrowtips. Both the arrows she sights down and lets loose embed themselves in the captain - one in the back, another in the side - and the man's rage subsides only because he falls to his knees, and then the floor in a puddle of crimson, his sword clattering to rest beside him.

Zalara watches Ashlynn take down the captain and she frowns, kill stealer. She takes aim at the last guard and she fires her death ray at it. The icy cold beam freezes the guard in place and he falls over dead. She looks around, "Let's get the corpse and go."

Eliathitae begins going about touching the captain, necromancer, and guards, ensuring that none of them die. She then goes about healing the remainder of her group, quietly but resolutely stating, "They must all see justice. Mel, Fiona, are you two okay?"

As the last of the men drops and silence falls over the hold, Ashlynn packs up her weapons and marches, silently, to the still-living, if mortally wounded, captain and his men and gets to work trying to stop the erratic flow of blood from their wounds, starting with the one wounded the worst. Her hands move in a way that suggests she's had some training with this... though not too much of it. Perhaps she's just trying to say she's tried. There is to be little mercy beyond that for them.

Fiona comes to with a gasp. She was starting down that tunnel with a light at the end and seeing your life flash before her eyes, apparently she didn’t get far past infancy because she was almost sucking her thumb. “I LOVE you...” she offers to Eliathitae, “Not weird love, but more the love of I love the healthy touches you do.” Fiona slowly sits up and grumbles. “That...hurt worse then a dagger to the pinky.”

Mel manages to pick himself up as the others take down the captain and his guards. "Um, are we all okay? Well, alive anyhow?" He cleans off his blade on a rag and sheaths it, nodding to Elly. "I'll live, thanks. Big thanks," he says with a small groan. "This is going to be complicated, though. How are we going to get off the ship? And are we taking this guy? What about the guards? Can we call for the watch? Making undead has to be illegal, right? They should be able to arrest them for real."

Eliathitae nods to Mel, her brow still resolute if sweat-soaked as she likely is stabilising another downed combatant. "Necromancy is certainly illegal in Alexandria. Seems it is not in other places. I will tend to these men. Can someone get to the dock and alert the Watch?" Given Mel and Fiona's injured states, her eyes fall on Ashlynn - assuming the archer can likely hold her own somewhat in combat - or at least be intimidating!

"The ship cannot sail without its captain." Ashlynn says, releasing the cloth she'd wound tightly about the slashed-open leg of one of the unconscious guards to stop the torrential pour of blood from the laceration. A nod of thanks is given to Eliathitae when she arrives to make certain the quartet live. "One must go summon the Watch and the priesthood. Others can remain to stand guard." she suggests.

And so, the adventurers emerge from below decks with the subdued captain and his guards, along with the necromancer and the corpse of the poor widow's reanimated husband. The crew is shocked, but nobody seems to want to stop the adventurers after they already defeated the toughest they had to offer. Needless to say, the City Watch is very interested in what the group has to say. The captain and his officers are locked away in jail, facing charges of necromancy, attempted murder, slaving, and kidnapping, and a whole host of other offenses. It seems unlikely that they will see freedom again.

Ferah, while distraught to hear that her husband was indeed reanimated by his brothers, is relieved that the adventurers were able to put him to rest again. It also makes it much easier for her to claim ownership of the Marid's Dance, which she promptly does. A reward is paid to the group, and they are thanked for making Alexandria a safer place once again.

Till Death Do us Part

2012-11-19T01:30:41Z

Fiona: Created page with "Players: Mel, Ashlynn, Zalara, Eliathitae, Fiona Title: Till Death Do Us Part Summary:The Adventurers of the Explorer's Guild are called upon to solve an unusual marital dispu..."

Players: Mel, Ashlynn, Zalara, Eliathitae, Fiona
Title: Till Death Do Us Part
Summary:The Adventurers of the Explorer's Guild are called upon to solve an unusual marital dispute.

Log:
You've all answered a posting at the Explorer's Guild calling for a small group of adventurers, instructing interested parties to assemble in one of the guild's meeting rooms for further instructions. The group's client, an older woman of obvious Veyshanti ancestry, sits by the meeting room's large table. She's dressed head to toe in black clothing, and appears rather distraught. She keeps dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief as she awaits the adventurers.

Mel files into the room, looks up to see the distraught woman, and bows his head respectfully before taking one of the open seats. "Hello, ma'am," he says quietly, settling himself.

Fiona makes her way into the room at the appointed time and gives a look around. Refusing to give up her cloak in these chilly days, she pulls it tight to herself as she looks over the woman in the dark clothing. Saying nothing she sinks down into the seat, and then as if an after thought to not be rude she mutters a greeting similar to Mels. “Hello...” Her lower lip is bitten as she takes in the woman’s attire and then looks over to the man she knows little about and shrugs and then nods to the woman. Confusion maybe, or maybe the nonverbal question of, is this who we are supposed to meet?

Zalara comes in to the room as she signed up for it this morning. She gives a nod to the woman, "Hello there." She gives a smile before she goes tos it down and she nods to Fiona, "Hello I'm Zalara Copperbottom, artificer."

Eliathitae enters the room quietly. Her blue robe does prevent a lot of the metal from clinking against other metal, but the creaking of leather makes her anything but silent. She pauses at the black dressing of the Veyshanti woman, but does nothing beyond nod courteously and offer a small, "Good day, m'lady," after seating herself. The blue eyes of the coppery-blond llyranesi do not leave the Veyshanti's face for longer than a few moments.

Cluthing the slip of paper advertising the job in one hand, Ashlynn marches more than walks into the room with that determined frown she always tends to wear. Not her usual style of accepted application, for sure, but there she is nonetheless. Her head is bowed and eyes downcast as gesture of respect to the employer upon notice of the way the Veyshanti is dressed - a guess made at the reasons, considering what the Guild paperwork mentioned. She does not seat herself quite yet.

The Veyshanti woman sniffles, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief once more before looking up at the adventurers who have filed into the room. "Ah, hello. Thank you all for coming." Her accent is an immediate giveaway that she is probably a somewhat recent arrival to the city. "My name is Ferah Rashidin. I have a task I need handled, and I am told that your Guild has experience with matters of this nature." She seems uncertain exactly how to phrase what she says, hesitating for a moment. "There is a ship which plans to leave for Tashraan later this evening. Men have taken my husband on board. I need you to stop this."

Zalara frowns, "Why did they take your husband? What does the ship look like? Does it have a name?" She asks as she starts to check to make sure she has all her contraptions.

Blinking that she is addressed, Fiona offers a nod. “Fiona Eaglehart.” She offers an introduction back. “Ah I ...don’t really have a profession to speak of.” At least not one that is formal. When the woman starts to speak, Fiona gives her all of her attention. Blinking slowly the woman tilts her head. “Very good questions, I didn’t think men got kidnapped though.” the Tsuran continues quietly. “How have they taken your husband? Does he consent to going with them?”

Mel runs a hand through his short hair as he listens to the mission. "I have to ask this, ma'am, because of some confusion before," he begins, his tone hesitant. "Is your husband going along willingly and you want him brought back whether he wants to or not? Or has he actually been kidnapped?" As the names go around, he introduces himself, "Er, just Mel."

Eliathitae is suddenly taken in by the Veyshanti woman's story, not really noticing that the group is taking the time to introduce one another. She reaches her blue gloved hand across the table towards the woman in black's. Elly makes no attempt to take the hand or even touch the woman, just a silent offering of simple tactile comfort and reassurance. The look on the elf's face is one of rather genuine concern.

Ferah looks uncertain how to answer some of the questions being asked, especially the ones about her husband's willingness to be on the ship. "My husband, he... that is to say... he passed away last week." She says, with a very sad expression, reaching for her handkerchief again. "He was a trader. Very successful, sold Veyshanti spices here. The men who took him, they are from his tribe. They want to inherit his profits. I think they plan to do... unwise things to achieve that. They are on a ship called the Marid's Dance. All I wish is for you to return my husband."

Glancing amongst her companions for a moment, Ashlynn settles into a chair in somewhat awkward fashion, where she proceeds to sit in a manner that suggests her spine may not be entirely mobile. Well, either that, or that she's trying to stand at attention while seated.

Her words aren't exactly needed - the relevant questions are being asked by her companions - and so she simply sits there, tight-lipped, listening and churning the information over. The frown remains. It's a fixture.

Fiona blinks at this and then looks at the others, “I would say that is stealing then.” She offers as she blinks lightly. “well I do believe its safe to say his consent won’t be required.” Fiona offers to the others in the group with a weary smile. “ A nervous chuckle is given out. “What..um...What does his casket look like?” Fiona offers, “It might not be the only one on the ship, if they are partial to stealing bodies of persons...”

Eliathitae straightens her already fairly straight posture when the truth of the husband's status comes out. "I-I am so sorry for your loss, Lady Rashidin," offers the sildanyar finally. Elly, being new, leaves it to the others to ask questions and agree to anything. The jurisdiction of the Explorer's Guild is still foreign to her.

Mel ahhhhs, nods slowly, smirking at Fiona's remark. "You want us to bring back his body?" he asks the client, his tone businesslike. "You should have said. That's different." He nods as we're given the ship name, and says, "I'll help. It's not right, taking a man's body to do ... whatever it is they want to do. Bodysnatching's never good. Do you know much about the people besides the name of the ship?" he wonders.

Blinking in slight confusion, Ashlynn's frown grows just a little deeper as Ferah unfolds the story. "Do they have legal right to claim the body?" she speaks finally - doing so after a pause, as if meticulously picking words. A glance is given to the others here for the job, but that is all, for the moment.

Zalara bows her head, "I'm sorry for your lose. Why do they need his body? Shouldn't his inheritance go to his son or something like that?" She asks as she's not sure about the legal ramifications.

"Thank you." Ferah replies quietly to Eliathitae, with genuine gratitude breaking through her grief for a moment. "... The keepers of your city graves said they found the vessel he was to be buried in empty. I had my suspicions immediately, and I spoke to those he sailed with. There is no doubt that they've taken him to their ship and plan to depart in hours." She hesitates again before speaking to Ashlynn. "I... this is difficult to explain. I believe those of his tribe would feel they are justified in doing what they are doing. But he was my husband. I believe your city's laws would not allow this." She retrieves a small slip of paper which she holds out. "I have here the number of the dock where they are berthed. Is there... anything else I need to tell you?" She gives Zalara a long look, nervous again. "... Our customs are very different from yours. If they intend what I believe they intend... nevermind. All that is important is that he is retrieved."

A head tilt, bringing a small crack of the neck from Fiona and then looking from the others in her group for this task to the employer again. “How...” she starts to ask but drifts off as her question is asked and answered. Its obvious that was meant more as an internal question, but its out there now. But now, without a casket to carry the body in Fiona actually grimaces slightly. “OH..” Her lips her pursed, eyes lightly wide as she looks to the others in the group. “The number of the dock would be good..”She says attempting to regain her composure.

"Then I shall help detain them until the matter is sorted." Ashlynn decides after receiving her answer, standing up from the chair and straightening out. That's good enough for her, it seems. Weapons are settled back into place expeditiously.

Mel nods gravely about departing in hours, and says, "I suppose we'd better get a move on, then. We don't want to get there only to see them pulling away." He looks around to the other adventurers, rises from his seat as well.

Eliathitae, given that her first and only excursion on behalf of the Guild of Explorers involved entering into a house in which the house and its normally inanimate furniture and accroutements decided to attack the group, is a bit wary of what precisely the men in question aboard the Marid's Dance intend to do with such a body. It could be anything. Elly looks thoughtful and then sorrowful as she sighs, "In Alexandria, the body of a husband or wife should be the jurisdiction of the next of kin, the widow or widower, as far as I know. But, Lady Rashidin, you are not from here. And you say you know his tribe feels justified. I understand how you feel, and truly feel for your loss of your husband." Her hand is still across the table should Ferah feel a need for it.

"I know it is hard, but can you tell me what these men intend to do?"

Ferah sniffles a little, hesitating to answer Eliathitae. She does so in a quiet voice. "They have brought a wizard with them. My husband was kin to their chief. In the past, they have sometimes... used magic to prolong life unnaturally, when it is to their benefit. I do not wish to see that happen." She dabs her eyes again. "Now please, if there is nothing else... I wish to be alone."

Zalara frowns a bit as she hears this and she nods a little bit, "Thanks for the information. We'll do our best to get your husbands remains back.

Eliathitae has her brow deeply creased, giving the Veyshanti woman a small if sad smile. "Thank you, Lady Rashidin. I am sorry I had to ask such a difficult question. My name is Eliathitae, or just Elly, by the way." She pauses for a moment and, should the woman in black do nothing and say nothing as she has already suggested she would prefer loneliness, the llyranesi will stand and begin to leave the woman to her solitude.

And so, after making whatever preparations the group wanted to make, they make their way to the docks. It's just a little before sundown by now, and most of the dockhands have finished their duties for the day and have wandered off to the nearest tavern. However, the dock they've been directed to remains abuzz with activity. The Marid's Dance is an impressively sized merchant vessel, with three masts and a large frame which can hold quite a bit of cargo. Dockhands are loading crates up a gangplank while sailors, most of whom look to be Veyshanti, make preparations to cast off. Two large Veyshanti men stand near the gangplank, watching the workers as they load up the ship.

Zalara whistles a little bit as she sees the big ship. "This might be harder than we thought." She eyes the two large men standing near the gangplank. "Hmmm, so how do we find the body?"

�
Eliathitae murmurs, "There's something wrong about this. Yes, the husband's body is hers by Alexandrian law. Yes, I feel for the Lady Rashidin. But . . ." The llyranesi does not offer any further insight into her thoughts, furrowing her brow as she too notes the two guards, looking thoughtful.

Mel shrugs to Zalara, and says quietly to the group as we approach the ship, "So how does this work, do we just go up and demand him back? Tell them we've got a writ from the Explorers' Guild? We -could- ask, I think. Or ...?" he trails off uncertainly.

Fiona matches the whistle Zalara lets out. “I think we might have to search.” She offers in reply not so helpfully. “We could always ask them if they have seen any dead bodies lately. Maybe they don’t like them and are willing to help. I can’t imagine he is going to smell all that wonderful...I don’t know if I would want to be trapped on a ship with that.” Looking to Eliathitae, “Well when have you ever known someone to agree to allowing you to have the body of a loved one.” She shrugs. “Um...we can...” She shrugs. “Rum?” She offers and looks at the group.

Having introduced herself to those of her companions she is not familiar with (which, in this case, is most) as Ashlynn, of Gilead's Order of the Silver Arrow, the aforementioned has remained silent during their trek and come to carry an even deeper frown at Elly's sharing of the widow's confession. She's quite displeased about that particular prospect.

"Perhaps they will cooperate." Ashlynn says. There's a certain flatness to her tone, but even she doesn't believe that'll be how things go when individuals willing to employ a necromancer are involved.

Eliathitae looks at the others assembled. "I can try speaking to them, saying that we've heard word that a body has been reported somewhere upon these docks and that the Mourners seek it, but such would alert them?"

Zalara hmms as she looks around, "Maybe we can sneak on when they load up the cargo and sneak in that way."

The two standing guard continue to observe the workers load crates. They wear chainmail and have cutlasses sheathed at their belts, so it's probably safe to say they're there to keep people from boarding without permission.

"The law is on our side, and we must gain access." Ashlynn says, frowning (ain't that new!) at the two guards. Clearly, subtlety is something that does not generally cross her mind. "They may see reason in letting us past." Or they may have to be beaten to a pulp. One or the other!

Fiona motions for Ashlynn to take point them. “Well lets attempt reason them.” She offers and looks at the others, “Who wants to talk to them?I am not very good at people really liking what I say sometimes.”

Eliathitae takes a breath and steps forward. "I may attempt. But, the question is, what not to say?"

Eliathitaesighs, the coppery-blond braid of hers over her right shoulder and falling in front of her. "I can do as I said previously, if no other have any ideas."

“Well I would assume the question of “hey have you seen any dead bodies walking around.” Might cause them to look at us oddly.” Fiona points out. “Maybe.also don't mention we will be looting their boat. That might cause a bit of anger.”

Mel looks around to the others, nodding to Ashlyn and Fiona about trying reason. "I might have some luck at this," he says, and steps forward towards the two guards. "Good evening, gentlemen," he begins. "If I can speak to you a moment, we need to talk to whoever's in charge of cargo."

Eliathitae blinks her blue eyes repeatedly at Fiona. "I . . . will do my best to endeavour to avo --" and then Mel is walking up to the guards. "Oh."

The two men exchange looks with each other before looking at Mel and the rest of the adventurers behind him. One of them steps a little closer. "The captain is making ready to cast off. If you have a message for him, I can bring it to him." He says simply.

Ashlynn follows in step with the more... socially-inclined members of the party, simply looming over the group and falling back to the role of a bodyguard, a role she's familiar enough with. She - blessedly - keeps her mouth shut for the moment, allowing those with more glib tongues to do the talking.

Eliathitae steps forward without discussing things, "I understand that the captain is prepared to cast off. There has been sightings of illegal cargo on these docks and we are doing routine checks before any ship may cast off. I am sure your Captain received such information from the dockmaster?"

Zalara hmms a little bit as she watches Mel go up to talk to the guards. She follows along behind as the others go although she looks all over for a way to get in without the two guards noticing.

Mel looks back to the others when the guards deny us access, then turns back to the guards. "One piece of your cargo ..." He cuts off when Elly speaks up, then follows up, "Sorry this comes at the last minute, you know how these things go. We'll be as fast as we can," he offers helpfully.

The guard looks back over his shoulder at the other one, who shrugs. The first guard looks back at the adventurers. "... Let me go get the Captain. Maybe he'll speak with you." He turns to head back up the gangplank alongside one of the dockhands. The remaining guard stays where he is, now watching the group with a touch of curiosity. "You are... inspectors?" He looks rather dubious about this.

Eliathitae nods, straightening her posture as if she's been doing this a million times. "Yes, from the Guild of Explorers. We wouldn't be here if it weren't for the reports of the cargo. We just want to get this over with so we can all go home."

Fiona makes her way behind everyone and looks around. Biting her lower lip she goes up to her toes to see if she can see anything on the ship. Nodding at whatever the others say she looks to
the boat to see if anyone is watching them.

Mel looks relieved that they're going to get the captain. If nothing else, we can waylay him and these two and have our run of the ship. To the remaining guard, he attempts to marry up Elly's comment and some sort of official position by saying, "Yes, we're contracted out by the Explorers' Guild. They do a bit of everything there. But yes, we're here as inspectors."

Zalara hmmms as she wanders off a little bit to watch the cargo being loaded. She hmmms softly as she tests a couple of crates to see if they are sturdy or could be open easily.

Ashlynn, for her part, uses her superior height to keep an eye on the cargo-loading process, without offering a single word. She remains at Mel's and Eliathitae's side, as straight-backed and frown-ridden as ever. She'll likely get wrinkles from that at some point, likely sooner than anyone rightly should.

"Huh." The guard replies. He doesn't exactly seem to be one for conversation. After another couple minutes, the guard returns. This time, he's followed by an even larger, more imposing Veyshanti fellow. Judging by his very large hat and beard, as well as his expensive-looking scimitar, it's probably a fair guess that this man is the captain. While he looks mostly human, his eyes are entirely white: no iris, no pupils, probably a hint at some distant nonhuman ancestry. He appears somewhat irritated, stomping right up to the front of the group. "You are inspectors?" He asks, in the same accent Ferah had. "We were inspected just earlier today. All taxes were paid. What is the meaning of this?" He asks, scowling.

Now, the adventurers do seem to have attracted some attention. A few more armed sailors have come to the edge of the ship, watching the captain storm out. With them is a figure in a darkly colored robe, with a hood obscuring his face.

Fiona moves to help Zalara start looking over boxes. There is little she can do to help with the speaking part of this, but at least she can make it look like she is really inspecting cargo. Leaning down she sniffs a few boxes and wrinkles her nose. She looks at the others and then at the Captain before looking back at Zalara. She falls quiet as she can looking around her.

Eliathitae does her best to sigh exasperatingly, tossing her braid over her back with an irritated look to her blue eyes. "Look, captain, we all have places we need to be. The normal inspectors have already been around this morning, that's normal. Do we look like normal inspectors to you? It's a temporary action in place simply because of the reports of some illegal cargo that has been floating around. Fortunately, this is a rare occurence that the Guild of Explorers is called out, but here we are. If you'll just let us have our look, we'll be on our way."

Mel stands up before the captain and suppresses a wince as Elly continues with that bluff. He says, "We're sorry about the confusion, Captain, we're here not here about the taxes, as she says. We're here about one particular piece of cargo. You have a body on board, a Mister Rashidin, who needs to come off before you get underway. If you can help us out, we'll be out of here lickety-split, we don't want to impact your schedule.”

Zalara looks back at the others and she winces as she hears Mel just tell why they are here. She moves her hand towards her death ray and she makes sure she has some over behind the crate.

Ashlynn's eyes flick away from the cargo as an audience begins to build, and thus the tension rises all around. Someone may do the foolish thing and draw a weapon, and if it happens, she'd rather be ready for it. The robed figure gets no more attention than the rest of the sailors, though - articles of clothing, no matter how dark, should not rightly be indication of morality.

The captain scowls at Eliathitae. Well, probably at Eliathitae. The unusual nature of his eyes makes it a little difficult to tell exactly where he's looking. "We have no illegal cargo. All we have are Alexandrian lumber and grain. I would never trade in narcotics or other contraband." When Mel asks the question more directly, his eyebrows rise. "Rashidin is my family name. My brothers and I own this ship. I think you are mistaken, friend."

Fiona blinks at this and then sighs lightly. She makes her way back to the ones speaking. “Do you have a wife? Ferah..” She wonders now. Her head tilts to the side as she looks the captain over a bit closer now. “Or a sister in law..”

Eliathitae is momentarily taken off-guard, blinking, but decides to wait for Captain Rashidin's response to Fiona's sudden question about Ferah's relation before she makes any efforts one way or another.

Mel ahhhs as the captain identifies himself. "I see. If you've only got lumber and grain, then there won't be any bodies on your cargo manifest? You won't mind if we take a quick look, of course? Just so we can all say that we've done so." Although, the guy in the robes does tweak his suspicious streak. Now we have to look for Zombie crewmen also?

Zalara continues to pretend to look at the cargo and she glances over towards the others to see how they are doing talking to the captain.

"Of course. My brothers and I are all married." The captain replies. There is a pause, then a little grin appears on his face, displaying a prominent gold tooth. "Ah. You have been sent here by Ferah, yes? She has grown too used to your decadent Alexandrian lifestyle. How she tried to talk Qitar into delaying the voyage. Please, pay her no mind." He gives Mel a little glare. Maybe. "Again, your city's inspectors already checked our manifest when we paid our taxes. Grain and lumber, nothing else. My brother is quite busy making preparations to cast off. And if there is nothing further, I should join him." He turns as if intending to head back up the gangplank.

“Why don’t we come on...we can chat with him while he works. and JUST before you pull the ah..” Fiona motions to the gangplank. “Planky board thing away from the dock, we slip off. Please..listen we were hired to do a job. Just like you, Some of us have card games to get back to.” She beams to the captain. “We can carry on a few boxes.” She motions to the cargo. “Help you out, Help us out, questions get answered, you get under way.”

Mel will follow the captain up the plank as if he were invited aboard. "Indeed, sir, the manifest was checked. But the cargo was not searched. You see, his body is missing, and it may be aboard. The more quickly you let us on, the more quickly we can inspect and determine that he is not on board." He's oh, so helpful.

Eliathitae follows Mel, looking as resolute as she can manage. "I know it is a frustration, Captain, but we do still have to follow our orders and inspect each ship on behalf of the Guild of Explorers for the illegal cargo, as my colleague says. Your men can continue about their work. We will only be a short while. I am sure all you have is lumber and grain."

The captain pauses for a moment, midway up the gangplank. He looks back over his shoulder in Eliathitae's general direction for a moment, then looks at his guards, "... Very well. I shall show you to him. He is below decks. Follow me." He gestures to his guards, who edge to the side to allow the group to pass. The figure in the hooded robe, along with the other sailors on deck, likewise move aside to allow the group to follow the captain.

Ashlynn is growing more suspicious of the situation by the minute. A glance is given to Eliathitae - a questioning one, the woman clearly placing a lot of faith into the priestess' wisdom. She stomps right after the pair going up the gangplank - remaining behind them to guard their backs, as necessary, but not butting in on the conversation. It seems she trusts them with it fully, for the moment.

Fiona moves quickly up the plank behind the others. She narrows her eyes at the captain and sighs. She shakes her head slowly and starts to look around the ship as they go up the plank onto the ship. “Thankyou Captain.” She offers quietly.

Eliathitae follows quietly, keeping her suspicions to herself. She looks over her shoulder to Ashlynn and gives her a bit of a frown without saying a word. "I hope we have not wasted your time. I was really hoping to be done this before sundown, and there are still more ships to do."

Zalara hmms as she's not really good at telling when other's are lying or not. She does keep her death ray handy as she continues to look around.

And so, the adventurers head below decks, following the captain. He wordlessly leads them down past the first deck, where the sailors have their hammocks. Then down through the second deck, packed with crate after crate of the ship's cargo. He leads the crew straight down to the darkest, deepest recesses of the ship, the bottom-most hold. Oddly, it seems to have been converted into a cabin of sorts. There's a bed and a desk, where a hunched figure with white hair scribbles at a ledger. "Qitar? You have visitors." The captain calls, gesturing for the adventurers to descend the stairs.

Mel finds it wildly suspicious that this guy is both alive and locked way down here. With an eye to not getting the door slammed and locked in the bottom of the hold ... why -is- this guy stuck here rather than in a regular cabin, or helping out on deck ... with an eye to not getting locked down, he stands at the top of the stairs and calls out, "Mister Rashidin? Your wife Ferah sent us to bring you home. You can come with us."

Eliathitae does not say a word, still silently dreading the moment her first non-truth in a dangerous situation especially will strike them down or worse. She barely suppresses her own internal grimace. She is keeping her eye out now, leaving it to Mel to field this since he has already started.

Fiona turns to look at the door of the room, attempting to make sure that no one is going to come up behind them any time soon. “Please.” She adds to Mel’s statement.

Nodding slightly at Eliathiatae as if to indicate she's got her back, Ashlynn follows the group down, down into the bowels of the ship. The hunched figure is eyed critically - and so is the captain, for a moment - the woman remaining as tense as the string on her bow. Something funny is going on here. She's not certain what, but something is, and by the Gods she will find out what!

... Eventually. Ashlynn's methods are more reminiscent of an angry bull charging and smashing a wooden gate - and that just leaves a whole lot of gate-bits lying around, as well as an angry gate-owner. It's better, thus, to let the more talkative ones try their, more subtle methods first.

Zalara hmms as she looks down at the person if you can still call it that. She does not like undead and she looks back to the captain, "What did you do to him?"

When the adventurers call out to him, the hunched figure by the desk slowly turns around to face them. It's immediately apparent that something is wrong. While his clothing is of fine quality, his face is nearly skeletal. His mouth hangs open, and his eyes have been replaced with dim glowing red lights. The creature is clearly undead.

In the same moment, the captain draws his scimitar, pointing it at the adventurers. The two guards have followed him at a distance and now file in behind him. The three of them effectively block the stair back up to the deck above. Further back is the shadowy figure in the hooded cloak, who was lurking up on deck earlier. The captain now speaks in a low, grim tone. "Remove your weapons slowly. Live slaves are worth more than dead ones, but you will be struck down if you resist.

Eliathitae tries, again, the peaceful way out of this. "Captain, with all due respect, we are members of the Guild of Explorers. Even were you to take us prisoner, what makes you think you will even get out of this city?"

Mel acks when the zombie fellow looks up. "Ah, I see you don't want to be disturbed," he says flatly, nudging the hatch back closed with his foot, "sorry to have bothered you." When the captain's scimitar comes out, his hands go straight up over his head. No heroics here, no sir. At the command to remove weapons slowly, he complies, and comes forward to hand his sheathed sword to one of the guards. "Ah, I'm good with being alive, sir," he offers helpfully. Though if he can get close enough, he's going try to pop one of them in the face with a sucker punch.

Fiona sighs deeply. “Alive is the way I prefer...” She says as she starts to go for her weapons. She doesn’t take them off of her yet, “And I am not resisting, but perhaps you would like to make a deal...” She offers.

It's only Eliathitae's words that stop Ashlynn from immediatelly howling a warcry and cleansing what is clearly an abomination from the face of Gaea. Instead, with the priestess of Althea speaking, the archer-woman halts herself abruptly - twitching, once, as she battles to quell the urge. One can hear her teeth grinding.

The captain chuckles darkly, the sound echoed by his two minions. "We'll be casting off in minutes. Your slow Alexandrian ships will have no chance to catch us by the time they realize you're missing." He quickly points his blade at Mel. "Stay back. And remove your weapons. I won't ask again." The undead creature lurches as if intending to stand from his seat. The hooded figure raises a hand to it, and it settles back down while making an unsettling moaning sound.

Eliathitae raises her chin as the captain (and his minions) laugh. Anyone who's watching closely enough will note she's shaking. Elly attempts to continue the route of peace all the same, "Clearly you recognise my robes, my armour, and my shield. You know I am a priestess and this . . . abomination does not frighten me, if I am armed or no. There are more of us than you. We said we are envoys of the Guild of Explorers. The Guild will send more. Even if you sell us into slavery, we will be found and you will be punished."

Mel steps back for the moment as the captain points the blade at him. "Sorry, sorry, I'm not doing anything, nosir!" He thinks a moment. "Apart from removing my weapons. That's what I'm doing." Though he's not really doing it very efficiently. He'll play for time to see how Elly's words take them.

Zalara takes out her death ray and she starts to power it up. She aims it right for the captain and his goons, "Now you can either get out of here or I can blast a hole in you and your ship. We'll take the dead guy with us too."

The captain narrows his eerily white eyes when Zalara draws a weapon. "... Very well then. We'll do this the hard way." He then scowls at Eliathitae. "Let's see if your faith will protect you!" The other guards draw their scimitars, the cloaked figure raises his hands, and the undead fellow rises from his seat. Clearly, things are about to get ugly.

Mel groans inwardly as the weapons come out. Of course they were going to be fighting anyhow, but he would have rather it not been quite like this. He has a half-step jump on the situation, though, having been ready for things to work out this way, and he dodges past the captain and the guards, before they can quite change from threatening to fighting. He lashes out at the evil priestly fellow with his shortsword, and wounds him, but fails to bring him down with the surprise attack. "Uhoh," he groans, and prepares for the worst.

Fiona moves quickly, almost as quickly as Mel. Rapier and dagger are drawn as she moves with Mel to get close to the cloaked figure. she swings at the man, missing him wildly as she does. Grumbling she mutters and looks at her rapier.

The captain's milky eyes narrow in anger as he whirls around, slashing Mel with his drawn blade. Fortunately he only scores a shallow cut, but it's painful all the same. The cloaked figure staggers back, his hood falling away. He resembles the captain, with the same oddly white eyes. His head has been shaved, and his beard trimmed to a goatee. The undead figure at the desk lurches forward, reaching out to strike Eliathitae with a curled fist, striking with surprising force.

"DEFILERS!" Ashlynn howls as hell finally breaks loose - the first sign of true, unhindered emotion to her beyond her usual frowning. "Your own kin!" she continues, clearly affronted, as the bow is slung off her shoulder and proverbially flies into hand. An arrow is drawn, the tip pointed without hesitation at the undead menacing the priestess - and unleashed, let to spear through drying, dead flesh, where it sticks with a dull thud.

Eliathitae was not ready for the punch from the zombie, her shield not quite readied as she takes the punch of the undead in the side of the face. Stunned for a moment and not even attempting to pull her longsword, she immediately prays to the Blessed Lady, drawing forth energy through her training specifically to harm the undead, especially that one who just bruised her face. "I said, I do not fear this creature!"

The bald-headed man in the cloak sputters and recoils, the effect of the assault leaving him unable to act for the moment. The scimitar-wielding men seem to have focused on Mel as the greatest threat, surrounding him and swinging wildly. One scores a blow to his chest, adding another deep cut to the unfortunate fellow.

Zalara activates her titan armor and her octagon shaped backpack lights up as the thin metal plates emerge from it and move around her body to protect her. She flips the switch on her death ray to it's frost setting and she fires at the necromancer. The only shot she had was a glancing blow, but it hurts the bald necromancer and the cold energy of the ray manages freeze him almost solid. The death ray starts it's recharge cycle as it lets out a blast of steam.

The wizard, while recoiling, manages to cough out a magical phrase. He reaches out to grab Mel's arm, giving Fiona the opportunity to cut him again. An electircal arc pulses out, leaving Mel with another burn.

Mel franticly evades the blades flashing all around. There's a couple close calls where sharp steel skitters across his mail shirt, but he avoids taking a killing blow. He's not happy to be where he is, but he's had worse. He sees the priest trying to cast a spell, and slashes wildly with his blade, but can't connect, and when the man grabs him and jolts him, he screams in pain. But he has enough presence of mind left to hack at the fellow with his blade again, and this time, he strikes the man down. Mel is left crispy and a little dazed.

“MEL!” Fiona screams and quickly moves as he is scorched by the spell. She flips into position with one of the guards and takes a swing with her rapier again. Cursing as she misses. “We have to...” She starts out and starts to cuss at her rapier. “Work darn it.”

The captain sneers, white eyes practically glowing red with rage. "Brother!" He lashes out to cut Mel once again in angry retribution for felling the bald fellow, drawing enough blood to drop the rogue to the floor. He quickly whirls around, teeth gritted with rage. Meanwhile, the undead horror moans with anguish and anger, lashing out to strike again at the priestess. It swings twice, both blows going wide.

Drawing arrow after arrow with practised ease and speed - not to mention the fury of a Gileadite battling an undead - Ashlynn unleashes the projectiles upon the shambling corpse. The sounds of the impacts are unsettling as the arrows embed in its torso, joining the first, and each makes the abomination wobble - but it keeps going, being shot or not.

Zalara takes aim at the captain as the necromancer goes down and so does Mel. She narrows her eyes as the death ray finishes recharging and she fires the icy beam at the captain. It hits and hurts him,b ut he's able to avoid the chilling effects of her ray.

With Mel downed, the guards turn back around to face their nearest foe: Fiona. Both step forward and swing their blades at her, once of them scoring a blow that leaves her with a painful looking gash.

Eliathitae cries out as Mel goes down, and again focuses on bringing more energy from the Healer, this time instead working on trying to heal the living so they can fight longer. "No! Mel! Come back to me, come on . . ." murmurs she as she apparently doesn't have too much energy to draw.

Fiona screams as she is hit. She moves quickly, rapier flickering first, then dagger. The rapier draws about as much blood as the man drew on her and she growls out. “HOLD STILL so I can stab you.”

The captain now joins his minions in the attack on Fiona, although his strike is easily deflected. Meanwhile, the horrible undead Qitar is still trying to grab ahold of Eliathitae, making horrible noises all the while.

"Dishonorable lout! You who would make abominations of your own blood! And with no courage to face an enemy in equal combat, you fall upon the meekest in a swarm like a rat!" Ashlynn bellows at the captain, words punctuated by adding to the arrow collection upon Qitar. The final one pierces deep until only the feathers remain on the side it was shot from - and with a final unnatural moan, the undead collapses upon the floorboards.

While one of the guards seems to be having a great deal of difficulty scoring a blow, the one who Fiona struck has no difficulty striking back. He slashes at her angrily, scoring a much deeper cut across her torso.

Zalara continues to keep her aim trained on the captain as the death ray finishes recharging. She fires a stream of cold energy trying to freeze the captain to the bone, but so far he's proven able to outlast her cold.

When Mel wakes up, Fiona moves quickly, Her rapier and dagger flickering again at her foe. She lets out a scream of challenge hoping they won’t see that her friend is threatening them. She is hit again, it causes her to let out a scream in pain, “I COULD USE A LITTLE GOD TOUCHING RIGHT NOW..” She calls out. “Please!!”

"My brothers!" Shouts the captain, white eyes nearly red with rage. He slashes at Fiona, but his blow goes wide. Very wide. Really, it's almost embarassing.

Mel grunts woozily as he comes around, weak and shaky as conscious returns, just barely, and he finds himself on the bloody deck of the ship. Looking around, he realizes he hasn't been shipped off, that the fight is still ongoing! He quickly takes stock of the situation, shouting to try and get the one guy's attention off Fiona, at least for that critical moment. Buoyed with hope as she tags the fellow, Mel tries to finish him off, but misjudges his attack because of the blood loss and the fact that he's still on the ground. Whoa, the world is spinning! Eyes rolling back, he flops back onto the ground.

"Turn around, slaver! Turn around and face justice!" shouts Ashlynn - and she says it with conviction, in spite of it sounding like it came straight from some religious scripture or a cheap hero novel.

Alas, the arrows she punctuates the challenge with... one embeds into the wood of the hull and vibrates there, and the other just ruffles the tip of the feather upon the captain's hat in its fly-by.

Eliathitae despite her difficulties with healing before, as the combat grows more dire, so does the Blessed Lady's heed to her call. She is standing almost over top of Mel as she again calls forth that positive energy, managing just enough control to have it not affect the damaged living opponents.

Zalara continues to aim at the Captain and this time she manages to hit him where it hurts. The cold injures him badly and he feels the cold all the way down to his bones. She smirks if he's going to ignore her she's gonna keep firing at him.

One of the guards, the one that was doing all the talking earlier, certainly seems to be a more gifted combatant than the other one. Despite his wounds, he lunges forward with increasing rage. He lands a solid cut right at Fiona's neck, a painful and very dangerous injury.

Mel wakes up again, only moments later, still prone, but realizing that he's not much use that way. And once he realizes it, he checks himself for injuries quickly, and when he works out that his entrails aren't dragging across the deck, he crawls away to get clear of the fighting before standing up.

When the captain goes wide, Fiona grins at him. She moves quickly, attempting to finish off the guard that had been attacking her. A warm feeling of good touching comes to her body. Flowing through her and closing the wounds. “OOOh Bless you.” She calls out to the priest. Then she is smacked hard, by one of the guards. She growls and narrows her eyes at him. She is not going to go down without a fight. Lunging forward her rapier goes through the man, Her action having profit as she falls he falls with her.

The captain howls in anguish at the loss of his brothers and his loyal guardsman, lashing out with another strike at Fiona. Or maybe it was meant to be a strike at Eliathitae. The lack of pupils and his generally poor swordsmanship are making it somewhat difficult to tell what his intended target actually was.

Ashlynn decides that words aren't going through the red haze that is the captain's mind. She decides, thus, to focus on making her point a little pointier - with, in fact, two separate points. The ones on the arrowtips. Both the arrows she sights down and lets loose embed themselves in the captain - one in the back, another in the side - and the man's rage subsides only because he falls to his knees, and then the floor in a puddle of crimson, his sword clattering to rest beside him.

Zalara watches Ashlynn take down the captain and she frowns, kill stealer. She takes aim at the last guard and she fires her death ray at it. The icy cold beam freezes the guard in place and he falls over dead. She looks around, "Let's get the corpse and go."

Eliathitae begins going about touching the captain, necromancer, and guards, ensuring that none of them die. She then goes about healing the remainder of her group, quietly but resolutely stating, "They must all see justice. Mel, Fiona, are you two okay?"

As the last of the men drops and silence falls over the hold, Ashlynn packs up her weapons and marches, silently, to the still-living, if mortally wounded, captain and his men and gets to work trying to stop the erratic flow of blood from their wounds, starting with the one wounded the worst. Her hands move in a way that suggests she's had some training with this... though not too much of it. Perhaps she's just trying to say she's tried. There is to be little mercy beyond that for them.

Fiona comes to with a gasp. She was starting down that tunnel with a light at the end and seeing your life flash before her eyes, apparently she didn’t get far past infancy because she was almost sucking her thumb. “I LOVE you...” she offers to Eliathitae, “Not weird love, but more the love of I love the healthy touches you do.” Fiona slowly sits up and grumbles. “That...hurt worse then a dagger to the pinky.”

Mel manages to pick himself up as the others take down the captain and his guards. "Um, are we all okay? Well, alive anyhow?" He cleans off his blade on a rag and sheaths it, nodding to Elly. "I'll live, thanks. Big thanks," he says with a small groan. "This is going to be complicated, though. How are we going to get off the ship? And are we taking this guy? What about the guards? Can we call for the watch? Making undead has to be illegal, right? They should be able to arrest them for real."

Eliathitae nods to Mel, her brow still resolute if sweat-soaked as she likely is stabilising another downed combatant. "Necromancy is certainly illegal in Alexandria. Seems it is not in other places. I will tend to these men. Can someone get to the dock and alert the Watch?" Given Mel and Fiona's injured states, her eyes fall on Ashlynn - assuming the archer can likely hold her own somewhat in combat - or at least be intimidating!

"The ship cannot sail without its captain." Ashlynn says, releasing the cloth she'd wound tightly about the slashed-open leg of one of the unconscious guards to stop the torrential pour of blood from the laceration. A nod of thanks is given to Eliathitae when she arrives to make certain the quartet live. "One must go summon the Watch and the priesthood. Others can remain to stand guard." she suggests.

And so, the adventurers emerge from below decks with the subdued captain and his guards, along with the necromancer and the corpse of the poor widow's reanimated husband. The crew is shocked, but nobody seems to want to stop the adventurers after they already defeated the toughest they had to offer. Needless to say, the City Watch is very interested in what the group has to say. The captain and his officers are locked away in jail, facing charges of necromancy, attempted murder, slaving, and kidnapping, and a whole host of other offenses. It seems unlikely that they will see freedom again.

Ferah, while distraught to hear that her husband was indeed reanimated by his brothers, is relieved that the adventurers were able to put him to rest again. It also makes it much easier for her to claim ownership of the Marid's Dance, which she promptly does. A reward is paid to the group, and they are thanked for making Alexandria a safer place once again.

Recent Logs

2012-11-19T01:29:57Z

Fiona:

[[Category:Logs]]
Roleplay is central to Tenebrae, and consists of a mix of scenes, grid, and PrPs. Here you may read some of the logs our players have posted, or wanted to share. This page may also be used to post logs for PrPs, to share an item for staff review, or to tell players about a great scene. Remember too, if you're RPing in a public area, a log may end up on this site. Most recent logs are at the '''bottom.'''

==How to Post a Log==
{{TableMain}}
{{T01}}
| colspan="2" | Log Help
{{T02}}
|I Need Help With...
|Look Here
|-
|Posting a log
|[[How to Post a Log]]
|-
|Wiki formatting
|'''[[How to Format a Log Quickly|How to Automagically Clean a Log]]''', [[Help:Editing#Formatting|Wiki Help]]
|-
|Finding a PrP template
|[[PrP Template]]
|-
|Finding what goes in a PrP log
|[[Player_Run_Plots#Sending_in_a_Finished_PrP|Submitting PrPs]]
|-
|Finding logs from the old website
|[http://emblemofea.pbworks.com/w/page/12036798/Game-Logs The Old Site]
|}

==Our Logs==
{{TableMain}}
{{T02}}
|Date
|Log
|People
|-
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|[[A Duel!]]
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|-
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|[[How to Smite with a Poo Cart]]
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|-
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|[[Crusaders, Start Your Engines!]]
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|-
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|[[Adamantine Tinkering]]
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|-
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|[[Storytime in the Dragon's Den]]
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|-
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|[[Adamantine Hunt]]
|
|-
|Aug 6 2012
|[[PRP: Unbearable]]
|[[Constantin]], [[Nadara]], [[Leisel]], [[Quint]], [[Dante]], [[Jibbom]]
|-
|Aug 7 2012
|[[A Formal Complaint]]
|[[Donk]], [[Dante]]
|-
|Aug 7, 2012
|[[The Overturned Cart]]
| [[Kalkorth]], [[Constantin]], [[Donk]], [[Emir]], [[Trank]], [[Svarshan]], [[Myrana]], [[Eira]]
|-
|Aug 8, 2012
|[[Felicia's Very Sandy Birthday Party]]
|[[Emir]], [[Svarshan]], [[Mikilos]], [[Katja]], [[Sandy]]
|-
|Aug ?, 2012
|[[Fox Ears for Azog]]
|[[Azog]], [[Abrahil]], [[Myrana]], [[Kalkorth]], [[Conrad]], [[Garrin]]
|-
|Aug 9, 2012
|[[Raising Halani]]
|[[Halani]], [[Kerbasy]], [[Craft]], [[Jinks]]
|-
|Aug 22, 2012
|[[Wanted Posters]]
|[[Abrahil]], [[Sandy]], [[Myrana]]
|-
|Aug 14, 2012
|[[Sildanyari do Not Birth Gnomes]]
|[[Jibbom]], [[Rotgut]], [[Faun]], [[Boshter]], [[Cesran]], [[Ormarr]], [[Mikilos]]
|-
|August 23, 2012
|[[A Tea Cart]]
|[[Svarshan]], [[Jibbom]], [[Azog]], [[Sandy]], [[Mikilos]], [[Lumina]], [[Moonshadow]]
|-
|August 25, 2012
|[[Moonwatching]]
|[[Kama'o]], [[Mikilos]], [[Colrick]], [[Locien]], [[Usha]], [[Constantin]]
|-
|August 31, 2012
|[[Prancing Poncy Swiftclaws]]
|[[Jibbom]], [[Sandy]], [[Lumina]], [[Svarshan]], [[Locien]]
|-
|September 1, 2012
|[[Dastardly Dealings]]
|[[Jibbom]], [[Mikilos]]
|-
|September 3, 2012
|[[PRP: Catacombs Kidnapping]]
|[[Sonja]], [[Grunak]], [[Colrick]], [[Seadhna]], [[Jibbom]], [[Kathryn]]
|-
|September 4, 2012
|[[Social: BAD DOG!]]
|[[Kama'o]], [[Moonshadow]], [[Nadara]], [[Lumina]], [[Ashlynn]]
|-
|September 5, 2012
|[[PRP: The Laughing Anna]]
|[[Moonshadow]], [[Munch]], [[Seadhna]], [[Zarr]]
|-
|September 6, 2012
|[[The Best Medicine]]
|[[Jibbom]], [[Lumina]], [[Savannah]], [[Boshter]], [[Zalara]], [[Mikilos]]
|-
|September 8, 2012
|[[Social: Hangover]]
|[[Kama'o]], [[Teppus]], [[Chloe]], [[Lumina]], [[Donk]]
|-
|Sept 13, 2012
|[[Muse of Doom]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Azog]], [[Jessa]], [[Zalara]], [[Quint]], [[Svarshan]], [[Chloe]]
|-
|Sept 14, 2012
|[[Career Day]]
|[[Ormarr|Wonderpony]], [[Jessa]], [[Mikilos]], [[Angrid]], [[Zalara]], [[Constantin]]
|-
|Sept 15, 2012
|[[PrP: Sanctuary Cleansing]]
|[[Jessa]], [[Melbert]]
|-
|September 15, 2012
|[[Not Yet a Knight]]
|[[Kerbasy]], [[Jareth]], [[Azog]], [[Cesran]], [[Mikilos]]
|-
|September 15, 2012
|[[Double Rainbow Man (Again)]]
|[[Svarshan]], [[Agril]], [[Jessa]], [[Constantin]], [[Selia]], [[Younger]]
|-
|Sept 16, 2012
|[[Coyote Meets Phoenix]]
|[[Jibbom]], [[Jessa]]
|-
|September 17, 2012
|[[Younger's Busted Leg]]
|[[Abrahil]], [[Younger]], [[Jessa]], [[Munch]], [[Chloe]], [[Lumina]]
|-
|September 18, 2012
|[[Thrax]]
|[[Savannah]], [[Jibbom]], [[Cesran]], [[Mikilos]]
|-
|Sept 25, 2012
|[[Hip-pest Reaction]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Zalara]], [[Jessa]], [[Moonshadow]], [[Ellerela]]
|-
|October 13, 2012
|[[Shamblers in the Woods]]
|[[Svarshan]], [[Leisel]]
|-
|October 15, 2012
|[[Clara the Lance]]
|[[Cinnamon]], [[Kerbasy]]
|-
|October 16, 2012
|[[Sandy is a Dandy]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Kerbasy]], [[Jinks]], [[Constantin]], [[Arissa]]
|-
|October 17, 2012
|[[Tent Fires]]
|[[Myrana]], [[Svarshan]]
|-
|October 17, 2012
|[[The Statues]]
|[[Eleia]], [[Kerbasy]], [[Boshter]]
|-
|October 19, 2012
|[[Challenge Beyond Our Means]]
|[[Albain]], [[Craft]], [[Svarshan]]
|-
|October 26, 2012
|[[Kittens Jessa Kittens|Kittens, Jessa, Kittens!]]
|[[Quint]], [[Jessa]], [[Sandy]], [[Svarshan]], [[Cesran]],
|-
|October 27, 2012
|[[There Can be Only One Pretty Pretty Princess|There Can be Only One (Pretty Pretty Princess)]]
| [[Azog]], [[Cinnamon]], [[Sandy]], [[Constantin]], [[Svarshan]]
|-
|Unknown
|[[Giant Pink Hips]]
|[[Gragnar]], [[Jessa]], [[Svarshan]], [[Sandy]], [[Jibbom]], [[Emir]]
|-
|November 13, 2012
|[[Till Death Do us Part]]
|[[Mel]], [[Ashlynn]], [[Zalara]], [[Eliathitae]], [[Fiona]]
|-
|November 17, 2012
|[[Once Upon a Jail Cell]]
|[[Sandy]], [[Myrana]], [[Svarshan]], [[Fiona]], [[Eliathitae]], [[Selia]]
|}