The Last City

[DarkMirror]

This is a Fantasy RP, bordering on Steampunk. It takes place in the City, a massive structure in the middle of a endless jungle-overgrown wasteland of ruins. Players will be taking on the roles of Adventurers, the people who go out and explore the Ruins, in hopes of finding riches and powerful magic items known as Artifacts.

The City
"What existed before the City? There never was anything before the City. The City always has been, and the City always will be, forged by Cerbus in eternity."
-Records of the Grand Church
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http://img255.imageshack.us/img255/2724/thecityxp8.jpg


The City is a massive, pyramidal, monumental structure. About as big as a medium sized mountain, it towers above the Ruins like a giant, lording over its domain.The City is generally known by three different sections and the area outside of it, known as the Ruins, each one divided from the others by its hight above the ground below.

There are the Spires, the topmost parts of the City, in which the High Council and the Grand Church are located. The elite live here, the most wealthy. It is well policed by both the cities normal forces and the Elite Guard of the High Council, with crime at a minimum. Here are the High Council Chambers, where all administration is held along with the largest collection of Artifacts in the city, as well as the Elite Barracks and the Grand Church.

There is the Middlegrounds, where the farms and the factories are built and the rich and the common live. Markets, stores, parks even, all can be found here. The cities normal police force does the best they can in this section, although crime does occur on occasion. There are the Markets, the Guilds, the Factories and the Farms. Almost everything of importance is here.

There is the second-to-last section, the Base. The Base of the city is old, having been slowly squished by the rest of the city above. It houses the sewers and the garbage factories, all of the gunk that the rest of the City doesn't want to deal with. Here are the slums, the poor, the criminal. The City's police force can barely maintain a presence down here, although the gangs that have dug out their own territory frequently patrol it, keeping at least a semblance of order.

And last but not least, the Ruins. The ruins stretch away in every direction, as far as one can see from the utmost top of the City. They are overgrown by the jungle, complex and easy to get lost in. Abandoned towns, vaults, dungeons, parks, everything has fallen into ruin and disrepair. Here lurk monsters, creatures of horror, but here also lie the Artifacts, powerful magic items. Adventurers risk the Ruins just for these, either to keep for themselves or to sell to the wealthier of the City.


Character Sheets:
Name: Kind of obvious
Gender: Male or female, simple
Age: Not to young, not to old
Appearance: Up to you, but your human (Unless you want to PM me to consider alternatives)
History: Doesn't have to be gigantic, but it should explain why your adventuring out in the ruins
Equipment: Swords and bows/crossbows are common, flintlocks are extremely rare
Other: Anything else you feel the need to mention

Anyone interested in joining, please PM me your sheet and any questions you have about my world's details.

[DarkMirror]

Name: Tasha Gray
Gender: Female
Age: 18
Appearance: Long brown hair tied into a braid, green eyes and fair skin. Wears simple clothes, and has a pained look in her eyes. Below the waist her body becomes that of a snake about fifteen feet long, with brown and green scales. The tip of her tail is tipped with a rattle.
Looks roughly like this: Link (http://mama-anime.deviantart.com/art/Female-Naga-Warrior-50327863)(Credit goes to Mama-Animie for the picture)
History: Was a street kid for most of her life. When she was about 15, she took a job that she reflects on as being "A lapse in my better judgment" involving stealing a nobles artifact. However, even though she did find it, it cursed her with her present form when she tried to take it. Ever since she has been living in the shadows, heading out into the Ruins in hopes of finding an Artifact to reverse what the last one did.
Equipment: A pair of swords, one long and one short. A heavy crossbow with twenty bolts or so, and a single flintlock pistol with five shots that she managed to nick one time. She also has a fairly minor Artifact, a ring that changes colors with her moods. Wears leather armor when she needs to, and has a belt with several tools and pockets.
Other: She has a set of fangs, giving her a poison bite. However, she is incredibly ashamed to use it, and has gone so far as to pay an alchemist to create antivenin to treat it.

[RavenCrusade]

Name: Daniel K. Quigmas
Gender: Male
Age: 28
Appearance: Tall and lean, Daniel stands just above average height. He has brown eyes and curly brown hair hidden under a brimed leather hat. Clothed in leather padding with navigation and survival tools strapped to his garments, he seems more than prepared for a walk in the city. He's missing one arm, but he was lucky enough to find an Artifact a few years back that serves as a replacement.
History: Daniel K. Quigmas comes from a long line of explorers. His family has owned a nice apartment in the Middle City for generations, and it is reasonably well furnished. Quigmas men don't care much for city life however, and they would prefer a tent over a bed any day.
Equipment: A recurve bow strung along his back, small knives for cutlenary purposes, Navigation and Survival equipment.
Other: Daniel is always looking for a wealthy adventurer to head into the ruins with.

[Edouard]

Name: Mathias Cavalier
Gender: Male
Age: 18

Appearance/Bio:
Somewhat short height (about 5 feet), slim but fit, blond hair and amber (almost golden) eyes, clear complexion and slightly tanned skin. He’s often seen wearing common clothes despite his noble heritage. He carries a golden necklace that holds his family crest and is enough to let people know who and what he is. He holds a short staff tied to a leather sash that runs across his chest and around his back. He’s often calm and observing but can also be rather adventurous and will sometimes seek out trouble when he’s bored.

History:
The Cavaliers are a very prestigious and noble family that have often been close to the High Council, often serving as advisers or contacts. The family was originally part the city’s Loremaster Guild, working in maintaining and studying the city’s lengthy history. But Mathias’s grandfather, Richard Cavalier chose to practice a more active profession. The families deep libraries held great information on the mysterious art of Alchemy; easier to use than magic but also more dangerous. He became quite a master, maintaining the family's place by the side of the Council but this time as Scientific and Alchemical adviser. He taught his son all that he knew, and that knowledge was also given to his grandson, Mathias.

Background:
When Mathias was only 8 his father died. His mother had also passed away before he could know her so his Grandfather took up most of the boy’s schooling. Richard taught Mathias of all manner of knowledge from history to mathematics and literature, which he took in eagerly thanks to his insatiable curiosity. From a very young age Mathias proved to have a great affinity for Alchemy, particularly for exothermic reactions (basically fire and explosives). This troubled his grandfather due to the risks of such a dangerous branch of Alchemy but he deemed it better to teach Mathias how to properly control his gift rather than to have him experiment with it by himself.

He is currently in his final year in the city’s Academy and has already been offered several titles and honors by the Council and the Scientific Society. Unfortunately Mathias doesn’t feel that his place is in the typical Noble’s circle, he feels the need to enter a more interesting and adventurous vocation. He’s shown great interest in traveling to the Ruins and other lower levels of the city which are more dangerous but in his mind also much more interesting.

Equipment:
Short Staff, normally less than a meter long but it can extend into a long quarterstaff typically used for combat. He can also charge the staff with compact reactive substances to launch small explosives.
Small golden necklace that holds his family crest (http://img59.imageshack.us/img59/623/cavaliercrestde4.png) engraved upon it.

[DarthPaul]

Name: Neil Weatherbee
Gender: Male
Age: 63

Appearance: Wild white hair sticking out from his gray top hat, Neil has small brown eyes that seem to twinkle, and a purple-tinted crystal monocle over his right eye. He is a short, plump man with a grey tailcoat over an elegant lavender dress shirt. He wears a pair of grey trousers under on his legs and a pair of polished old black leather shoes. His face looks kind and has as many wrinkles as his hands do.

History: Neil as a child always had imaginary friends and loved nothing more than to have them all perform in a beautiful manner. When he was only eleven his father Currie Weatherbee gave him his monocle. Neil played with that monocle and his imaginary friends became real, when Neil was nearing adolescence he found out that the monocle allowed him to make illusions. Neil found a career in the theater business, his theater was located in the higher ends of the slums so that it attracted both the poor and the rich. His theater played six days a week and had everything from magic shows to opera. Of late, Neil has wanted to explore the ruins for more of these mysterious artifacts.

Equipment: A sturdy well-whittled oak cane, a yellow handkerchief, and a magical artifact that let's his imagination become semi-real.

Other: Neil owns his own Theater, which includes a large props(non-lethal) room, a make-up room, Stage and audience chamber, and a ticketbooth out front.

His Favourite Colour: Yellow

[SolidSamurai]

Elain 'Fairy' Fey
Male
21

A former professional street artist and performer of sorts, Elain has taken to adventuring in recent times with the sole goal of becoming filthy rich. Nothing more, nothing less. The man has blond well groomed, streaked hair, a stubble and light mustache, and well tanned skin. Powerful hazel eyes.

Mostly living amongst the middleground of the city, Elain has been known to have frequented the lower slums on occasion. In an effort to look out for himself, he's self taught himself a small array of martial arts and is fair at taming lighter swords (such as rapiers) to his hand. Well coordinated, his years of street performing, dancing, and survival at parties has made him a rather freespirit.

'Fairy' is a nick name given him (and generally agreed upon) by the local card sharks and aged goons in the slums. However, Elain is tougher than he looks. Despite the fact that his ridiculously decorative garments could say otherwise. The clothes make him look like some twisted final fantasy character after all. Of course, Elain wouldn't have a clue.

Class best to compare him to: Bard/Rogue
Skills mostly focused in: Tumbling, performance, searching, appraisal, silent mobility
Feats that could be best labeled: Evasion, lock picking, trap searching, weapon focus rapier, weapon specialisation rapier, improved disarm < --- assuming feats aren't in this game, this generally offers a look at what he's already capable of

Equipment: Bag of components for various 'twisted tricks', concealed studded leather vest, soft-soled leather boots, belt of concealed throwing knives and small switch-blade 'punch/letter opener' (AKA: butterfly) knives, patchy colorful long hanging over shirt (mexican style), 3 belts - one studded, one leather, one loose chain, hemp ropes tied around legs (to 'hold the blood in after the knife show'), bandana and headband, reading eye glasses, bottles and tubes (some filled with 'aparating powder' and others with incendiary 'fireworks dust'), tough resilient tissue (unbreakable by bare hands but burnable; as strong as, or perhaps tougher than silk), pack for 9 string guitar (with great wooden panel for drumming on top of), matches/flint and tinder (if matches don't exist), bottles of oil and cotton, rapier sheath

Standard Clothes: Cloak (In bag), baggy pants, undershirt (underneath mexican style overshirt), leather arm guards, leather and cloth finger-exposing gloves, loose chain over neck

Ambition: To aquire great wealth. Possibly start business and inspire customers with great stories of adventures after attaining 'great wealth'

Favourite Color: Pristine Orange

OOC: Alright, now we need a warrior to protect all of these 'timid' characters. :D

[RavenCrusade]

The sun had just set. Daniel walked up one of the city's winding streets while glancing into taverns while he put one boot infront of the other. He was feeling quite tired from the day before, he had helped some builders in the lower city reinforce one of the passage ways down there. He was getting more and more restless every day. He was a Quigmas! He should be out exploring ruins, not stuck in this bloody aristocratic scumspire. It had been almost a week since his last expedition, and he was eager to be off again.

He thought as he walked. I'll get home and restring my bow, that should keep my mind off things. Daniel waxed and sharpened his tools often, always trying to maintain them as much as possible. His father once said "A man prepared is an encounter survived." and Daniel believed firmly in that. If only his father had been prepared when he was returning from his artifact hunt a few years ago. A group of Ravagebeasts had ambushed him and his party. Daniel allowed his brain to wander while he continued silently up the road.

OOC: Really hoping this starts soon. ;)

[Anoiktos]

Name: Tashkali Hirubanthra (calls herself Tashka, is usually referred to as 'ferret', probably because she tends to get herself into and out of dangerous situations at (usually) other peoples' expenses and make a lot of noise while doing it.

Gender: Female

Age: 36

Appearance: Ferret is a sun-soaked woman with mottled, weathered skin from too much time spent out in the ruin's various climates; at this point, her veins look more like the edges of scales than they do veins, and the numerous scars (some long and prominent, but most fairly short or well-healed) about her body betray a tendency to get into fights. Her eyes are a dull brown, but move constantly, flashing from one target to the next. Her hair is short and dark brown, with frayed ends and a haggard air; she's likely washed it recently, but that was in a stream. Her proportions are a little strange, both because she is broadly muscled and because her approach to 'fashion' is to stab anyone who complains about it - or at least swear at them until they go away. With a nose that looks as though it has taken a few too many knocks, and parched, cracked lips, she is rarely praised for her beauty - unless the bard in question has fully thought through the consequences of not doing so.

History: Ferret has never really fit in. The child of a migrant family, she was jailed for stealing at the age of five, and learned from it the most important lesson of her life: don't get caught. Nowadays, she's moved from what she considers small heists (lifting unneeded collectibles from the pockets of unsuspecting travelers) to more ambitious and dangerous ones (venturing into the ruins and coming out with loot, no matter where it came from.) Overall, she's too imposing a figure to work the streets anymore, so she learned to fight - and brawl, and punch, and bite, and rake and claw and knee and jab and shove the other man off a ledge and use this table HERE as a distraction to let her kick THIS man in the groin before she punches that one in the stomach and takes all his clothing as payment for her trouble.

Barfights, however, have gotten boring, especially as she has to go out of her way to start them now, which tends to get the attention of the city watch. So, inevitably, she found her way into the Ruins - at first alone, then as an adventurer, and finally as a guide. She's not excessively bright, but tends to know when she's being lied to (their lips move) and when treasures' in the area (because someone's trying to guard it, or my allies just fell into that trap I just avoided.) She doesn't know, and doesn't usually care, about the history of the Ruins, and most Artifacts just strike her as fiddly, expensive things that other people will generously feed her pocketbook for.

So she goes on, looking - hoping - for the Big Score, and maybe a couple of them snazzy artifact weapons while she's at it.

Equipment: Ferret has a number of weapons and odds and ends, from surprisingly resilient armor that mixes wood, hide, and metal to a pair of one-handed axes. She also carries a composite longbow in her pack, any number of daggers hidden in the folds of her armor or dress, well-used camping equipment, a compass, many feet of rope, a grapnel, a spade, several weeks' hardtack rations, two days' better rations, two water canteens (in case I have to beat someone's head in with one) and a map. She has, at times, had minor artifacts, but tends to sell them.

Other: Ferret gets along surprisingly well with people she isn't currently beating up, having an open, friendly attitude and the general joviality that comes with having seen both good times and bad - and having risen above them. She's happy to help people in need, but doesn't generally go out of her way to do so, and finds laws beyond her own moral code to be suggestions at best.

"What'dye mean, y'don't like fightin'? 'sser sumthin' wrong with yer sword arm, or are ya jess' a simperin pansie? No matter, we'll find out soon enough wither ye're good or ye're dead."

Edit: would you believe I somehow didn't realize DarkMirror's character's name was Tasha? Go bloody figure. Changed the way she refers to herself in order to make it at least *possible* to discern the two.

[A history of the "Thieves' Guild", and its relation to the Guildmaster and the Black.]

[Note: The above history is Tashkali's story; it is a brief and not strictly untrue set of events that ignore most of the below events because she has chosen to distance herself from Marduk and his politicking. The below is a more general history of the rise and fall of the Snake, and Marduk's subsequent rise as the Guildmaster.]

[The thieves' guild is a guild currently based in the Middle City; it no longer operates very much in the lower city, and has become increasingly willing to 'play by the rules' of late, accepting protection fees from merchants and hunting after 'unlicensed' thieves in the Middle City. Around twenty-five years ago, when Tashkali was eleven (she's currently thirty-six), that thieves' guild was founded under the auspicious eye of a well-known murderer known as the Snake; it was a mark of his power that his name was so general (there are lots of kinds of snakes), and he gathered around him a number of the more successful street gangs, especially children (because they would be easier to bend to his will).

He was cunning, and ruthless, and really didn't care much for the lives of his followers - in his world, if you died serving him, that was evidence enough that you didn't deserve to live. He became a very powerful member of the lower city, and only the Dragon and Knife guilds (I'll assume the Knife was the most likely to become the Syndicate) were in any position to challenge him.

Ferret (as she is still known to close friends) was one of the members of one of the street gangs he collected together during that time; ill-used but with a remarkable propensity for barbaric violence that the gang leaders couldn't really explain, the Snake saw her as an agent of brute force to cultivate. (for at thirteen years of age, at this point, he had little confidence in her ability to deal with adult thieves and assassins)

In this he was wrong; the Ferret's anger came from memories packed too tightly, ones a young girl should never have had to deal with, and which combined with a more or less explosive personality to create the creature that was her namesake. As such, 'using' her as an agent was to be a difficult, almost impossible task.

As the Snake's guild grew stronger, and his herald more prominent, a few of the former gang leaders within the guild sought to depose him. Only one of them - a cold, calculating boy named Marduk - was cunning enough to evade his suspicion, and he did so by placing Tashkali, then an unlikely candidate, for though she was a skilled thief and decent fighter, she tended more towards the role of scout in skirmishes, into the fray as leader of his gang under the Snake.

The Snake saw none of this sleight of hand; he noted only that one of the gangs had not yet openly rebelled against him, and surmised that it would do so in time unless culled. So he took the Ferret into his study one night, and when Marduk entered the room the next morning to the sound of crying, he found Tashkali, her arms and nose broken and her hair matted with blood, kneeling on the floor. All the clan of the Snake knew of that day was that its leader was dead, his legs ripped off and his ribs shattered. It seemed whatever had killed him had feasted on his flesh, but no sign of the creature was ever found.

After that day, Marduk named Tashkali the Black, and gave her command of one of the subsections of what became the Thieves' guild, though he never officially gave her any missions. He now goes by the name of the Guildmaster.

Three years later (the Snake's reign had lasted only two), as the Thieves' Guild left the Lower City for good, the Black disappeared. During that time, it was said that he (for the Black was never referred to as female) and the Guildmaster and his cadre of assassins and gifted burglars had done any number of small, dangerous operations to ensure the continued rivalry of the other guilds. For the most part, the current fragmentation of guilds in the Lower City (between the Drake, the Syndicate, the Asp, and any number of smaller guilds and gangs) is perhaps due to their efforts: anyone who grew too big for their britches was summarily cut down, usually leaving evidence that one of their competitors had done the deed.

The Guildmaster remains, commanding significant monetary resources and balancing sufficient political power among all those who wish to kill him that they are unwilling to do so for fear others will take advantage of their move.

As such, Tashkali and Marduk's names are mostly lost, though their fates were intertwined, and there are few specific events or heists they are famous for, beyond managing to accumulate enough wealth to bribe the city Guards to allow them to set up shop in the Middle City.]

[DarkMirror]

Slithering through the dark back streets inside the caverns of the lower levels, her scales making a slight scratching sound as she moved, Tasha sighed. At least she had managed to find a meal today. It hadn't been much, but it was enough.

She glanced at the Artifact she had stolen a whiles back, a metal ring with a band that changed color depending on her moods. It was a deep blue, befitting her rather depressed feelings at that moment.

She heard a noise behind her, and stopped. Not now...

From an alleyway stepped three men, wearing tough leather armor. One harried a hammer, while the other two had swords. Their leader, the one with the hammer, growled.

"No running, beast. Just fight us."

Tasha moved her hands to her sword grips, pulling the one longsword and the one short sword out of their sheaths. "I don't want to hurt you! Why cant you people understand that! I don't want to hurt anyone!"

Instead of replying, the three charged, coming in to attack her. Tasha ducked under a swing of a sword, returning the blows with two of her own and slicing open the belly of one attacker. The one with the hammer was about to swing, but was sent flying as she cracked her tail into his back from behind.

Finally, she fended off a flurry of blows from the last one, before quickly impaling him on her own blades. Looking around, she saw the man she had hit from behind getting up. Time to leave.

Quickly, she slithered away, frantically trying to find cover. Why did they always have to come after her, why?

[RavenCrusade]

Daniel was thinking deeply. He was thinking. There was a clattering sound behind him. Jolted out of his daze, he glanced backwards to see a thief clambering out of a nearby shop's window. He knew the crime had been comitted, the damage already done. He often found thieves, usually children, sneaking about at night. He didn't do much to stop them, the idea of being trapped in this city digusted him. But tonight, seeing that the robber was a full-grown man, rage enveloped him. He should have a job, or be out in the ruins! Who was this thief to choose the act of thievery over other means? Daniel barely contained his emotion.

Taking a quick glance over the thief, he saw a jewel-encrusted blade hanging under the cloak. Figures, he thought to himself. Why do the thieves always have the lucky finds. Not that he had anything personal against thievery. He, like many of his classmates, had stolen things from shopkeepers often when they were younger. But thievery was for kids; real, hardened men and women would make a better living out in the ruins, not stealing petty triffles here in the City. Daniel turned around and continued walking up the street, grimacing as he went.

As he unlocked the door to his room, he padded into his small flat and flopped down onto his cot. Why do these rich men insist on hoarding food and wealth, only to punish those who need it most? he thought. Sighing, he imagined what his father would say about Daniel's thoughts. "A Quigmas should have no place in politics and judgement, it is our duty to remain above such triffles."

"Bah." muttered Daniel. "I need to get out of this wretched place, it's beginning to ruin me".

[SolidSamurai]

"So howdy, mate, how you been doing on this dweary night?" Elain was terribly hammered. His speech and body wavered rythmically, he couldn't help it.

Is 'dweary' even a word? He almost laughed at this thought, but then realized once again that there was company.

And company was angry it seemed. At least, if anger manifested itself in low gutteral growls and heavy inhaling/exhaling.

"Woah now slow're down there... er... mate. I did not mean to harm you now, you see, I was merely pick pocketing *hic* I mean, pick pocketing *hic* I mean... what?" Elain stared off into space.

Until,

"Wah, wh-wh-what?!" The man tripped, his blond streaked hair flipping forward and bangles and boggles clattering with him to the floor.

He grapsed for some stability. And ended up grabbing the angry dude's leg.

"Oh well hello there fellow, mate sir, my friend er... fellow. Pick pocketing was clearly not what I meant to say transparently... I incur that I really meant to *hic* say... er... *cough* that I uh... thought your pocket was my pocket! Now I know that makes little sense mate, but you've got to believe that I'm rather what'yah'call, 'wasted' currently. Now see, I'll make it up to you with a performance, perhaps a sketch routine, or a dance would please you mate?"

He found his face, finally wiping the sweat from his mustache, and looking the stranger right in the eye.

"I concur that my performance will not be ghastly in the least. And if not I *hic* I apologize. And if you..."

The stranger that Elaine had stumbled upon continued glaring murderously.

"And if you, er *cough*... don't wish to see no performance, mate, I insure you that... oh jeeze, well you simply must see the new routine I've cooked up!" His 'composure' losing itself somewhat, "You're incredibly lucky that it's free of charge, you see mate..."

"And if not you like it, or like it you don't as it were... I'm completely comfortable with your taking leave without verbal notice." He grinned lopsidedly.

The man was still glaring with the look of a steaming pot of rage at the brim on the kettle stove.

Well, this certainly is a little dire. But well heh, I'll be at his back tommorrow if I succeed'n this one.

It was then that Elain had finally realized that the man still glaring at him was a figment of his own liquor-induced imagination. An imprint of a man formerly glaring at him who had now left without a word spoken.

Well that was a little... odd. He blinked.

He blinked again, spittle forming at his lips once more.

"Blast'it!"

Yah, 'course I couldn't even remember the fella's face!

OOC: Yup. Interaction with Daniel on the first post ftw. The 'store' Elain exited from was the section's liquor cabinet. He's got a few other filled bottles, still. I bet he doesn't even realize he got whacked up the face (if Dan did that to him).

[Escade]

((Technically, I was the first person to join. Because I PMed my profile.

Name: Alyssa Clarril
Gender: Female
Age: 24
Appearance: Shoulder length, black hair with hazel eyes. She has a slightly pale complexion, and is often dressed in robes that of the Grand Church.
History: Alyssa has always had a mixed up past, she being daughter of a Preacher to the Grand Church. She was expected to live her life in a direct pathway guided by the members of the church until she could achieve position into the place of worship. Which she did, by the age of nineteen, she was serving as one of the abbot's many assistants, fetching parchment and doing other menial things. Despite her naturally strong pride, which she had to gulp down to achieve these tasks, her parents were very proud of her 'serving under one of the Holiest of the Grand Church'. It was all she was driven to do, really. Until she had decided that she had enough of being cooped up in the upper levels, she sneaked away from the church and began visiting the other levels, amazed by the amount of commerce and social activities that went on in the Middlegrounds. So, from then on in, between her one hour of rest, she would disappear to the lower levels, which she did for about two years, until, during her trip to the Middlegrounds, had found her way into the shadier parts of the place, mainly the entrance from the grounds to the Base. She was knocked unconscious by a rowdy gang member and awoke in the face of three ragged gang members toting a variety of old weapons that had been dropped into the slums through the massive piles of trash that defined the place. They were going to attempt to sell her back to the Grand Church, and the results were not exactly positive, for both the gang and herself, the Church had not accepted the offer. With nothing left to do with her, they were going to kill her, when a cloaked man adorned in chain-mail armour killed the first one with an extremely rare flintlock weapon. She never learned his name, but he told her of his profession, that of seeking the Artifacts in the Ruins. He told her that it was fine to go back to the upper levels, but she chose instead to stay, the man educating her on the art of seeking, as she became even more and more intrigued in the 'job'. After her ninth night staying in the cobbled together shelter, the man did not return. She waited for another night, and still he was gone, disappeared. The only reminder of his prior existence there was a bag of coins and a steel-wrought Voulge. She did not see it fit for her to return to the Grand Church, after they had rejected her? She instead intended on pursuing the occupation her gracious host did.
(Yes, extremely wordy, but I kinda got into the zone. =P)

Equipment: A Voulge, a small leather-skin bag of coins (Only a few still remain), an old and worn grappling hook, and a Baselard knife.

Other: (I don't know if it means other equipment or other facts, but I'll just classify this as 'other facts'.) With her strong ego and sense of pride, she doesn't feel the need to show most forms of respect, especially in the Base of the City. Upon her personality, lies a secondary objective, as it were, that she holds, and that's to find out what exactly happened to the adventurer that took her in.

The day did not exactly go the way she wanted it to go. It was not a preferred day, that day being her coming back to the Base with artifact in hand and a few creature skins to boot. Sadly, said day hadn't come yet. She sighed, walking through the alleyways of the slums, maybe all she needed was a quick rest at her shelter. That would be best. She leaned on her voulge, the blade, once crisp and new, was now caught with dirt and grime, dried blood hanging from ridges and grooves. A scream echoed through the alleyway, as she turned the next corner to see what it was. A man getting up and chasing some kind of demi-human. She gripped the polearm tightly, sneaking round the man, he was soon impaled by the long blade, as she called over to the girl,

"Oi! He's dead."

[DarkMirror]

Tasha stopped, about to head down a side alley, and looked behind her. Another woman was standing there above the dead body of the man with the hammer. Unsure, she twisted her bulk out of the alley and back into the road.

"Er... Thanks. I... I guess I owe you one. But, not to be rude, why did you help me out?"

[RavenCrusade]

OOC: Actually, I PMed my Request to join a full day before I posted it here, but who's counting. ;)

Ringing. Ringing, the constant tolling of a bell. Shouts in the street. Daniel woke with a start. He looked out the small window of his apartment. Spotting the source of the noice, he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. The citywatch were conducting their morning patrol, and the church spire's bell was ringing. Daniel took a long sigh and stood up, stretching and preforming his daily routines. After munching on a small piece of toast, he dressed in his leather and began stringing his bow and sharpening his knives infront of the window. He stared blankly across the street, looking at nothing in particular, trying to think about how he would find his way into the ruins.

Dressed and equiped, Daniel trudged down the stairs on the outside of his apartment, descending to the city street a moment later. For a moment, he didn't know which way to go. Tired of searching, he spun in a circle and by the time he slowed, he was facing down the street. Hmm.. perhaps gravity has something to do with where I stop thought Dan. This was the fith time it pointed him downwards.

OOC: Sorry if you didn't want it to be morning yet, I can always erase this post.

[DarkMirror]

Something to note is that most of the city is actually dark, being underneath other levels and buildings. Therfore, "day" is determined through the use of large magical lights powered by Artifacts, or lightbulbs in the cheaper parts of the City.

[SolidSamurai]

Elain woke up to blistering sunlight. And a patrol man that nearly stepped on him.

"Woah in hell, watch where you goin' mate!"

"You! You shouldn't even be laying out on these streets, sir!" The guards were red faced and angry as usual. It got tiring after a while, "We'll have to impose curfew on you in no time!"

"Quit the belittling mate, I'll be on my way!" Cops were too soft these days. He hadn't seen jail time for that specific 'crime' yet.

What to do today? Hit the slums?

He sniffed himself. Alright, first take a bath. Yah definitely.

He checked his pockets.

Darn all.

Not enough money to hit that alluring bath house with on-the-spot beautiful women to attend to his 'needs'. Whatever. He guessed he could hit the public fountain one more time. Guards probably wouldn't mind too too much. Even if he washed his clothes down there too.

There were those who knew Elaine well enough not to mess with him. Unfortunately, there weren't enough of these people, so he'd still have to keep an eye out.

On his way to the fountain he passed a first floor window, and glanced at a familiar face.

When have I last seen that fellow? Elaine never stopped mid-thought, though.

And it was soon he forgot about the glaring angry fellow he'd almost taken advantage of. Or at least vice versa to be fair, he had to say to himself at the time.

OOC: Perhaps Daniel will catch him mid-public exposure in the fountain. :D

[RavenCrusade]

OOC: Thanks for tagging me, SS. I can only RP alone so much. ._.

Daniel walked down the street, through the city square and stopped at a Cafe. He sat outside in the relative shade of the buildings above, reading a printed flyer. It was a long and dreary summary of the new City laws, a few of which he could tell already were designed to keep the city 'pretty'. Sighing, he quickly scanned the square. Only a few people were up and about at dawn. The fountain gurgled audibly, muffling most other sounds. A couple were talking to each other by a cafe table, a group of men looking through the job postings on a near-by billboard, a cafe worker clearly tired scrubbing the tables. Daniel couldn't see anyone who would possibly want to leave this place. Emotions visibly darkening, he turned back to the flyer and continued to read.

[SolidSamurai]

Elaine was bathing at the fountain around this time, his body obscured by the mist and the statue that blocked Dan's line of sight to him.

Elaine didn't sing, so he needn't worry much about being caught.

[RavenCrusade]

Dan glanced up from the paper as he heard shouts enter the square. He had been reading something or other about remaining in a presentable state while in public areas, what a moronic law. He looked across the square and saw it was only the morning watch detaining a homeless man. That was another one of the new laws: "the streets of city are to remain vacant at all times, all loiterers will be detained and returned to the slums." As if there were many homeless to begin with up here.

OOC: Tag, Solid. :P

[SolidSamurai]

"Arrrrg, quit your detaining, I wasn't loitering, I was takin' a bath, get'off'it!"

"We've seen your kind here before sir, and you look like you're the only one. Get out of here. If you decide to come back, bring a bunch of your friends so at least we have something to do and take time out of our precious days to arrest you all!"
The sergeant sneered.

"I don't think you fully understand who I am, mate."

"You?" The sergeant guffawed, "I hardly recognize yah, pal. Which means off to the slums for ye."

Right, guess you asked for it, buddy.

The officers had already dragged a distraught and frustrated Elaine roughly 80 feet before his skin suddenly became blisteringly fiery hot. The men screamed in despair as their skin sizzled. The tried to grasp at his clothes, but that only resulted in thorns piercing their skin viciously.

"Ah gods, whasamatter with this one?" Another yelled, "He attempted to yank Elaine up by the collar, but that only resulted in a knife shearing his hand as the Elaine's collar and body slipped out of the officer's reach.

Yah I call that one the collar knife there mate. Bloody vicious. Gets you bloody.

"Damn! That's one messy cut, there mate! I'm sure it'll be painful in the long run!"

The man yelped, trying to use the sleeves of his uniform to clot the vicious bleeding.

"I warned yah, mates." Elaine then thought for a moment, "Wait, did I warn you? Ah, doesn't matter really."

Poof! White smoke surrounded the detaining officers, forcing them to cover their eyes and mouths. Just three seconds later, the smoke cleared and Elaine was gone, hiding in the thick leaves up a street side tree just 10 feet above. Elaine then made it to the condo roofs, where he promptly ducked into a chimney. Home invasion sure, but at least it beat an unwanted trip in the slums.

Maybe he'd steal a thing or two and then bribe some goons with the loot. Elaine always had brilliant ideas forming as he went.

First thing he'd have to come by was a few towels to dry his clothes.

[RavenCrusade]

OOC: I wasn't saying Elaine was being detained, I was just thinking that he would hear another guy being detained and do something or other. Oh well, this works too. :P

[Anoiktos]

As Ferret turns the corner, she notes a bit of commotion going on near the King's Coin, a not-entirely-respectable establishment for the purveying of various beverages. Not the kind of place she usually visits, but they don't water the rum, so it's not bad if you can catch Mink on the job instead of the uppity bastard who's currently cleaning the tables. Swaggering towards the pub, Ferret watches incuriously as a guard - a newbie, she figures, from the way he's screaming - has his hand mangled by some sort of hidden shirt-blade. She cringes at the thought, not because of the pain of the cut but because her experience with hidden weapons has led her to generally believe that they're more dangerous than they are useful, hence the rather visible pair of axes held in place by twine and troll-gut by her sides.

She walks directly up to the stricken guardsman, who's making enough of a scene that his friends can't even properly bandage the cut, nods to the sergeant of the squad, and punches the man in the forehead, neatly sending him into unconsciousness. Above stifled cries of alarm, the sergeant takes command:

"Oh, shut up, you all. She's just trying to help. James, get the bandages on him now that he's not prancing about like an idiot." He sounds exasperated and wary, but nods to Ferret. "Ferret. Always interesting to meet you. What can I do you in for today?"

"I'm busy, cat. Was hoping to grab a drink from the Coin here, but as Mink's not here, well, I figure I don't like the looks of the ambiance. What happened to the newbie?"

"Cut. By some freak taking a bath in the fountain. Looked like a harmless enough sort, but I'm in a foul mood. This new proclamation seems to catch people the wrong way."

"What's it this time? No bathing in public?"

"No, that was already illegal. Word from up high is that they want the streets clean. Wording's a bit funny, though: 'the streets of city are to remain vacant at all times, all loiterers will be detained and returned to the slums.'"

"Asking for trouble, if you ask me. Hey, you clowns; how's he doing? Did you even clean that cut before stuffing a sweaty shirt in it?" The bewildered expressions on the guards' faces tells her all she needs to know. While she's picking up the guard, the Sergeant disbelievingly attempts to add something meaningful to the discussion, like "Yes, trouble it is", but he only gets about halfway before the sound of muffled screaming and splashing increases as the newbie is dunked in fountainwater up to his chest, ramming his head onto the bottom of the marble, then pulled out just as quickly and placed, sopping wet, on the ground. The bloated bandage around his bad hand might possibly be more clean, but it is certainly more wet.

He splutters wildly, howling, but once his coughing fit is done, he seems well enough, judging by his ability to curse vehemently at Ferret and draw his sword for exactly long enough for her to grab his arm and bash his good hand into the side of the fountain until he lets go. As the sergeant watches nervously, she nods to him:

"Well, I'd best be off before this kid makes more of a nuisance of himself. Congratulations on your promotion to professional pain-in-the-ass."

Sheepishly, he mutters something or other about whose fault the whole thing is as she walks away.

[SolidSamurai]

Elaine made his way out the front door of a home, delicate-as-you-please, carrying an iron box, some jewelry, necklaces and a sack of silverware.

A voice. "What's that there?"

Elaine jumped. Cripes.

"You moving or some such?"

Elaine let out his breath,
"Well technically, yes."
And stepped on the man's right foot, full-arming the collar bone region in a sort of martial arts backhand, ultimately sending the bystander skirting into the garden near the house's brick wall. He kicked a little soil on top of the guy and kept moving, eyes darting to insure nobody else had witnessed anything.

It's always at least one visit to the slums in a week. There's no way out of it.

Elaine was off to sell his loot.

[RavenCrusade]

Daniel had watch the whole ordeal with a dash of salt. He hated seeing people detained, but he noticed it was the thief from the night before and wasn't surprised when he got away. The screaming, however, did. And the figure. The women, "Ferret" he think the Seargent called her, had shown up prominantly displaying two axes. Not the type of things a normal city dweller would carry around. She looked like a promising candidate. He resigned himself to try and contact her when he was done at the Coin.

[DarkMirror]

Tasha moved the old rusted door open with a bit of effort, then slithered slowly inside the interior of the grime covered glass dome that she currently called home. It was old, and part of the side that had no glass had caved in, forming several metal "rooms". The remaining panes of glass were nearly opaque from the grit that covered them, and the inside was overgrown with ivy and weeds.

It was an ugly, yet beautiful place to live, and so far no one had traced her back here.

She looked over what food she had left from her excursions to the markets in the Base, which included cheese and bread, as well as a few fruits. An old bag of salted meats sat on the top of the pile, and she drew out a piece of jerky to munch on as she relaxed.

And then she thought of something.

Her antivenin doses would have expired by now. She would need to buy new ones from that alchemist. Which meant a trip to the Middlegrounds. Damn.

It could wait a few hours.

[Jaxander]

I PMed this character to DarkMirror, but I'm just going to try it out and change what's needed. Hope this works!

Name: Allahd Darshanne

Gender: Male

Age: 38

Appearance: Tanned skin and dark complexion, Allahd has a thick black beard that dissipates on his jawbone. Sideburns shaved off, he is bald and usually wears a leather skullcap. Missing a front tooth and possessed of dark eyes filled with the fire of spirit and vigor. His limbs are beginning to lose the muscle they once had, but he can still swing a weapon with the best of them.

Allahd generally shuffles through the city in sandals and a pair of leather trousers, tattered at the cuffs. Possessing only a linen vest for top-cover, it has never bothered him much from the general heat of the city (I'm assuming the climate is hot, humid, etc.)

History: Son of a blacksmith in The City, Allahd has taken up the craft himself, and now works metal to be sold to whomever is willing to spend the money. The people who want his wares have no money for them, and the wealthy care little for the tools and weapons he displays, and so Allahd's business relies solely upon the transactions made with the occasional adventurer.

A father and a husband, Allahd's only wish in the world is to get enough money to buy his family a real house in the upper city, where the sun is bright and the air fresh. He feels if he can do that, then he can actually say he's done something important for his family.

Equipment: Various metal-worked tools are at his disposal, but he only carries a shoulder bag, so his on-hand equipment is limited. While he has crafted himself a small, slender cutlass for personal protection, the one item he takes great pride in is his throwing glaive. He also keeps a wooden figurine carved to the likeness of his daughter in his shoulder bag.

Other: Allahd has strict morales and values, being a family man. He is reluctant to enter the Ruins, but knows the great gains that can be derived from a successful venture. He despises thievery and other acts if ill nature, but he is also known to be a wise man who accounts for all sides of a story, so his mind is open.

[Jaxander]

Allahd stood behind his booth in one section of the City's open market. Behind him his forge sat smoldering, but not raging. He was done crafting for the morning, and would resume it again when 'evening' came. For now, he unrolled a linen cloth along his booth, and set out his metal tools and instruments still waiting to find the hands of a proper buyer.

Always waiting, it seemed.

A few regular customers stopped by and browsed, exchanging a few words with Allahd about the City, about the Appearance Laws that were now the general table-talk, and about some thieving they'd heard the night before.

"Apparently some bloke found a bit o' tha bottle," the mason commented.

Allahd scowled silently. "A fool's drink, and naught more. Turns proper men to black acts, to be sure."

"And there's Allahd the pious, preaching of right and wrong again!" the carpenter jested, and the three of them shared a chuckle.

Eventually Allahd took his stool and put his feet up, letting the actual buyers weed themselves out of the window shoppers. It was, so far, more or less an inactive morning. Shooed a few children away from the only weapon of war he had crafted recently, a light, curved knife. The mason and carpenter departed, as they usually did, without any purchases.

Reaching into his bag, which was seated on the ground beside his stool, Allahd pulled out the small wooden carving in there, turning it slowly in his cracked and dry fingers, admiring its beauty. His wife could carve, that she could, and whenever he was nowhere near his daughter, he had this figure of her likeness. It had been a long time since he had gotten something for his wife and daughter. Food, of course, but since he had actually bought something for them, something with no other puprose than to make them smile, to make them feel as beautiful as they were in his eyes. But here in the lower City market, such gifts were rare and expensive.

There was a bit of a ruckuss, and Allahd glanced up to see a young man, younger than he, at least, in the middle of the market, attempting to peddle wares. Being a veteran of the market, Allahd could pick out the young ones easily, always hopeful, and never with a seller's permit. Trying to make coin from the inside of their coat, so to speak.

And it was then that he saw what it was the young man was selling. Jewelry! It wasn't extravagent, not by any means, but it was simple and beautiful. Perfect gifts for the two most deserving ladies in Allahd's life.

He checked his bag for his coin pouch. Still pretty light, probably not for as much as this brash young merchant would want for the goods. But he could still try.

Allahd dropped the coin pouch bag into the bag, slung it across his chest, from shoulder to waist, and waved at the young man, calling him over. Hopefully he could get a piece of the jewelry before the guards realized there was a merchant in the market without a permit and confiscate them.

[OOC: Tag SolidSamurai! :smirk:]

[SolidSamurai]

Finally. Elaine was never one for patience. He noticed the man waving him over to a more sheltered area.

"Ah, ho' there mate! You wanting to buy these fine genuine pieces of genuine craftsmenship, of which are genuine, should I say?" The comment might of sounded anxious, but it seemed perfect in Elaine's mind. In Elaine's mind, everything was perfect if he thought it would be.

The man who had called to him was dusty and appeared bald, until Elaine noticed the skull cap... wait, nevermind, the man was completely bald. Interesting. Well whatever. It wasn't like he was a huffy biased or anything. He was beyond such petty things, Elaine was.

Elaine, like a perfect salesman, waited impatiently for an answer.

OOC: Yah, I know nothing of The City's currency or anything. But the idea is to effectively sell cheap considering Elaine *cough* stole this shit *coughscuseme*.

[DarkMirror]

Currency? Probably the Eye. Would be a little crystal disk.

[Jaxander]

The young man approached, and Allahd grinned, revealing a missing tooth just off the front pair. He holds in one hand the small coin pouch, and rolls the small wooden figure in the other.

"I must say, friend, that you're jewels have caught the eyes of a father," Allahd says, smiling still. "I'm afraid I only have seven eyes to offer in good, hard coin. But, if perhaps you are more willing to barter, I also have this fine array of metalworks with which I would be willing to part."

Allahd sweeps his hand over the collection of small carving knives, crafthammers, a probe and hook set, and a pickaxe.

Allahd sees the man's apparent lack of interest, or assumes the expression to be such.

"Or, perhaps you are more inclined to be the adventuring sort?" Allahd supposes. "One who sees the Ruins below frequently? Then you may find these a bit more in your market."

Reaching beneath his booth, Allahd pulls up the heavy war hammer and a set of throwing daggers.

"I hope that we can strike a deal, to some extent."

Allahd, confident in his bartering skills, places his right hand on his hip, just above the well-crafted glaive, which glints in the light. In his left hand, he still rolls the figure about in a thoughtful manner, stopping only once to glance at it and take in its intricate carvings.

[OOC: I figured I'd try to spark interest in things that Allahd is not so willing to part with, just to inspire RP conflict. Also the mention of the ruins might push this plot forward a bit.]

[SolidSamurai]

Currency? Probably the Eye. Would be a little crystal disk.

OOC: I uh... don't know what that means. Just a heads up: Currency is the term for a documented unit of money. The name of a unit portion, ie. a 'dollar' is the currency of Canada and the US. Currency conversion also occurs on the market, because pounds tend to 'cost more' in relation to euros, dollars, yen, etc.

EDIT: Read Jaxander's post, nvm.

IC:

Elaine's eyes seem to dart around somewhat anxiously, but he looks back at the bald, bearded man.

"Well certainly do have more to offer than I expected," he grins, "I'll give you everything for all your eyes' on your person and throwing daggers."

He ponders for a minute, "And if you're feeling generous mate, friend, could I request the service of you smelting that warhammer of yours so that I may use the steel to my own ends?"

Possibly to gouge some other mate, hehe.

"Or..."

He thought for moment.

"Maybe you could put it to use assisting me in the ruins?" He grinned genuinely at this last request. It may have taken the man aback that Elaine proved such a mind reader.

Yet Elaine had nearly forgot about that specific goal of his. He'd been wanting to gouge a bit more wealth of civiliations long gone from 'the ruins' for just over a few weeks now.

"We'd make a great team, I'm sure. I'm assuming you know how to use that weapon." He coughed, "And if'n you don't, or if you're not willing, then it'll get smelted, are we agreed?"

Surprise agreement! Elaine had practiced salesmen/pitch 'negotiation' for months, just to pull things like this on unsuspectors.

[DarkMirror]

Tasha had finally gotten her gear togethor and snuck her way through the sewers and back alleyways of the Base, getting up to the lower reaches of the more civilized Middlegrounds.

Tasha was arguing with herself in an internal conflict.
Damn alchemist is a little greedy bastard... why do I bother with this? So I don't kill people. I don't want to kill them, but they always come looking! Doesn't mean I have to bite them though... But just in case, I need the damn antivenin, and for that i need the damn alchemist.

And for that I need to go through the grand market.

She was, currently, in the most dangerous part of her journey. The back alleyways and spaces behind the tents of the Grand Market, where people didn't look. Of course, sometimes, they did, and that was the risk.

Carefully she slithered between one of the more permanent huts in the market and the wall behind it, taking cover by a large pillar. Past it, there were the backs of several more tents, and then a alleyways which would get to to the street where the alchemist she needed kept shop.

As she continued, she heard voices up ahead. There was another hut, which had a back entrance. Those things could be problematic to get past without being seen. The two voices seemed to be haggling. Tasha quietly pulled up, only a meter or so from the door that lead into the back path, and pressed herself against the wall, waiting for the voices to go away.

And then, against her will, the tip of her tail began to rattle violently.

"Shit!" she breathed harshly, raising her rattle and clamping both hands around it.

Tag!

[RavenCrusade]

OOC: If you guys are curious, I'm a URP (Uninspired Role player), meaning I can come up with characters easily but can't decide on a situation in which I could interact with others. Essentially; I'm stuck. I'm just not sure how to weave my character into the party for the ruins just yet, so I'll wait for the subject to be brought up.

[SolidSamurai]

OOC: Raven, you could always just run up to Elaine and the black guy and scream in our faces, "I wanna join yah!" Elaine probably wouldn't mind.

[DarkMirror]

In case you didn't notice, Tasha just started rattling her tail right behind you guys. Might wanna react to that.

[Jaxander]

Allahd considered Elaine's propositions with curiosity and intrigue. Into the Ruins? Could he? He was a family man. He couldn't risk the danger. Afterall, that was what he was obtaining the jewels for, his family. If he died, there'd be no one to support them, and everyone knows that women aren't generally accepted as an economic staple in The City.

But the Ruins! The adventure called him, and the prospect that with money gleaned from the artifacts could be enough for him to buy their own house, and not to live in the apartments of the Mid-City any longer. They could breathe the fresh air daily!

"Well, my young friend," Allahd said. "I can wield the hammer, yes, but if we're speaking protection, I'd much rather sit with my glaive and saber. A bit faster on the swing, you see."

Allah considered smelting down the grand hammer, and the idea didn't strike him as a good one. That was his prime craft right now, the thing that would glean the most money. Smelting it would be pointless. Instead, he emptied four eyes on the table, and laid the set of small, eight throwing daggers beside them. "And how does this strike your fancy? I'd give you all my eyes, but a man needs to eat, yes?"

And then a sound from behind caught him off guard. A sharp rattle sent Allahd on edge, as of a serpent. But what would a serpent be doing in the Mid-City like this? Lower City, yes, but hear.

He pulled out his glaive, the sharp steel edges catching the light in a most illustrious fashion, and he spun quickly, only to see a hideous snake-woman crouched not far away in the alley.

He jumped with a start, and back into his table slightly, rocking it on its legs. His hand clutched the glaive in white knuckles, ready to throw. But, he didn't. This...thing...had the upper half of a young woman, and so his instinct was that it was beleagured with its current form. That the snake portion did not come about of natural means. He could almost hear himself imparting this belief upon his daughter.

Everyone, no matter who they are, deserves a fair chance.

Still holding the glaive tight, his arm lowered to a less threatening state. And then, he finally said the only thing he could muster, his mind still reeling from what it was that was before him.

"Who are you?"

[[OOC: Raven, if you're having trouble entering the situation, you could set it up where your character is wandering the market during the commotion with Tasha. He may just be within earshot. Or, perhaps something on Allahd's table caught your eye, and so you started over to bargain, but then Tasha shows up just before you reach the booth. Just a couple of ideas!]]

[DarkMirror]

As the man stepped out of the doorway and into the alley, Tasha tensed and considered bolting. He had a weapon though, and if she turned to escape he might be able to get of a swing and catch her in the back.

The man lowered his weapon a bit, and then, after a pause, choked out, "Who are you?"

Tasha inched backwards slightly, releasing her tail and lowering her hands, palms open. "My names Tasha. I just want to go. I really, really, don't want to hurt you, but I'll have to if you attack me, alright?"

[Jaxander]

"I understand. Such is the way of things, yes?" Allahd nodded slowly as he listened to her words, his eyes still on her torso. Skin to scales, just as natural as ever. How could that be?

She said she wanted to go, and every instinct in him said to let her, but she was troubled. Deeply troubled. With the back half of a serpent, who wouldn't be? He decided to take the first step, both figuratively and literally. As he took a step forward, he replaced the glaive on his belt. A quick glance back at Elaine, to make sure there wasn't any dishonesty on his part. To accentuate his point of honest business dealings, he tapped his glaive for Elaine to see, and shook his head with a stern glare, and then looked back to Tasha.

"Well," he said slowly, stopping where he was and trying to assume a friendly tone. "I suppose the next question would be, what are you?"

[DarkMirror]

Every fiber of her being told her to bolt, to run, to slither away to safety and disappear. This had never been a good situation, even before the curse, and her whole life pointed her towards escaping.

But at the same time, she needed to talk, to speak with someone other than herself for once, someone who wasn't that damned alchemist or some adventurer set on gutting her. Someone who might listen.

Gathering up a bit of courage, she said quietly, "I... don't really know. A monster, I suppose."

[Jaxander]

Allahd managed a smile, his cheeks pushing up into his brown eyes. Not an amused smile, but a comforting one.

"Nonsense. A monster would not have admitted to it. A monster is someone capable of things beyond the moral code of Man."

A quick glance back at Elaine to make sure everything was still in order.

"Was this...natural? Excuse me if that sounds of ill meaning, but I do not know how else to say it. Was this your birth form?"

[DarkMirror]

Tasha almost laughs, forcing herself to remain quiet. Instead, she gives a bitter smile. "No, no, of course not. I did this, its my own fault. A lapse in my otherwise better judgment, I suppose."

You wont be able to go this way anymore, you do know that, right?

I know. They know I go this way, they might try to stop me next time, or let the City guard know. I'll find another way, next time.

Her stomach rumbled softly, and she glanced down, slightly embarrassed despite herself. "Err... sorry. As you might imagine, a little hard to get food when you look like this," she said, waving a hand to her tail.

[Jaxander]

"And so it is hunger that drives you, hm?" Allahd once again looks at the table, the Eyes still sitting there with the daggers. He considers the three eyes that remain in his pouch. His last spending currency for a bit, so he should ration it. And now he was met with a dilemma of his own making; feed a hungry vagabond or dote upon his wife and daughter.

He scooped up the coins on the table. "I'm sorry, friend," he said to Elaine. "But we may have to strike this deal a bit differently. I just realized that I cannot part with the coin as readily as before."

Allahd then turns back to Tasha. "Do me a favor, hm? Watch this lad? I'd wager he's got shifty hands."

As he briskly crossed the busy market, he once again thought of himself speaking words of wisdom to his daughter. Nothing to break to ice of tension as with a sign of trust. Everyone is deserving of trust, until they prove they are not.

"May as well practice my own words," Allahd said to himself.

He made his way to a bread vendor, and purchased a loaf of sanddough. Cheap bread, only one Eye a loaf, but still good, standard waybread. It would keep a traveler sustained for a while.

As he exchanged with the vendor, he saw a fruit seller just two booths over, and so he crossed and bought two grelons. About the size of an apple, and with a bright orange color and a sweet taste.

He counted his money again. Four Eyes left. That should get him through the week.

[Anoiktos]

"Butler? Butler! Who is this woman, and what -" the man shouts, obviously alarmed. The man in question is 'Hideous Adamus', less conventionally known as 'Adamus Gallicox', a noted politician with an equally noted lack of common sense, mercy, piety, empathy, or anything but a sense of self-entitlement, the proceeds of which appear to have been devoured hungrily, so bulky is his frame. Despite his suit, - so carefully tailored that Ferret does not doubt that the craftsman who made it cried over having to waste so much cloth on so pathetic a subject - his lack of taste can be seen in the cut of his hair, the strange, green-beige color that he's dyed it, and the bloated bulk of his many chins. His torso is graced with its own armor; feet-thick layers of fat that act like surprisingly effective body armor. Ferret grins: this sort of thing makes punches hurt less to the receiver, but also less to the purveyor of such violent gifts, and she's looking forward to some active persuasion.

The butler, however, is an entirely different problem. Carefully trained by one of the many schools of butlering in the City, he is nevertheless innocent, (or as innocent as anyone greedy enough to work for Hideous Adamus can be) and it isn't really her intent to create a ton of trouble for the guards to pick up - quite the opposite.

"Listen, cat:", she says, smiling like the most austere and innocent of dangerous predators, "I'm here because I've been hearing how you've been making a nuisance of yourself what with the propriety laws down in the middlegrounds. Now, I'm givin' you three options." The man nods happily - apparently at the prospect of options - until Ferret spins on one leg, daintily ripping John Marks, esq. Butler of the Shuldinger school of Butlering, from the floor and cleanly depositing him on the wall while simultaneously granting him an excellent night's sleep. The razor blade in his hand clatters to the floor beside him.

"Option number one: You agree not to make any more trouble about this and take back the laws so's we don't have these kinds of disagreements." Adamus, aghast at the flawless form of Ferret's swivel-punch, nods absentmindedly. "Option number two: You don't agree, and I continue being a minor inconvenience for you until such time as you do." With this, she glances at her knuckles appraisingly, and Adamus shakes his head. "Option three, of course, is that you agree not to make any more trouble and then call the guards, which would be quite inconvenient for me, seein' as how I'm a woman of honor, and I'd have to come back and teach you a lesson about it later." Adamus nods - then, his brain catching up to his ears, shakes his head frantically.

"Right, then. I'll leave you to it." Smiling cheerfully, she exits the mantion into the walkways of the Upper City, a place resplendent with delights to astound the senses until you realize that they're all the pompous creations of Upper City architects and artists, a generally uncreative lot who epitomize the ideals of beauty over functionality. Even now, one of their airborne sculptures is drifting downwards, its steam-powered propulsors unable to keep it up because of its massive weight. Reaching the gate to the middlegrounds, she waves happily at the guards, who nod cautiously and let her back through.

[RavenCrusade]

Daniel was in an alleyway behind the Med-Market, the one in between the slums of the lower city and the towering streets of the middle section. Eyeing the small panflet recently tacked onto the wall, he released his bowstring. A fifth arrow slammed into the panflet of appearence laws, securing it to the wall. Daniel approached the slip of paper and examined his shots, before pulling his arrows free. He only hit the rim of the second 'p', he'd have to practice his aim more. He walked back to his previous position and lobbed the panflet into the air as high as it would go. Drawing back his bowstring, he prepared to pin it to the wall for the seventh time.

[SolidSamurai]

Elaine waited patiently, silent as an onlooker. He knew when not to step in when outside activities disrupted inner activities.

When it was clear the old man had changed his mind, as people too often did, he said "Very well mate, I can see when I'm not needed, and you're lack of confidence in this endeavor, while regrettable is more than understandable. I'll be off." Elaine gave a finger salute, and in no time at all was jogging down the street, apparently ignorant of that beautiful snake lady who might or might not be following him (though being literally 'half snake' was somewhat a turn off, Elaine thought in the back of his mind).

Elaine still had to sell the goods. But he couldn't hold on to them much longer, he'd have to lay them out for auction. The auction house several blocks up the street was like a local market all of its own, dealing with so many items per day that it had sharks employed specifically to extricate items from willing third parties at nearly all times. Hundreds if not thousands of items were listed in their menus. And not all auctions were vocalised either, some were performed on submission basis due to such large item volume. Involved parties and 'registered club members' would recieve letters notifying them of the status of their own bids and/or sales. Elaine, already registered, was off to drop of some precious cargo right away.

"Man, I know not how you obtain these wares, but we're always happy for your contributions."

"Mate, I don't like the word contribution and you know that. This isn't run by charity. It's on strict sale basis."

The shark chuckled, "Whatever you say, Elaine."

[DarkMirror]

As the other man ran off, Tasha quickly considered her options. She could bolt now, find the alchemist, and get her antivenin now, or she could stay here, and risk being turned in.

Slowly, she began to poke her head inside the smithy, looking around. No one there.

Quietly, she slithered inside, and being careful to keep out of sight of the main doorway, curled up next to the forge, basking in the heat. Better to have some shelter than stay out in the open alleyway.

[Jaxander]

Allahd to see Tasha in the forge, and he grinned. He handed her the sanddough and the grelons, and waved away any thanks. "It was no problem. But perhaps you can indulge me as to what brought out your current...state," he said softly, motioning to the serpent's tail now coiled on the floor.

[DarkMirror]

Tasha accepted the food, briefly examined it, and then decided it was unlikely to be poisoned. Tearing into the bread hungrily, she ate quickly. After a few moments, she said simply, "As I said. A lapse in my otherwise better judgment. All due to damn Knocker, but still my fault."

She realized that she was now, in effect, cornered, and became slightly uneasy. Once again, her tail rattle began to twitch. Carefully, she raised herself up a bit to a less prone position.

"Thanks for the food. I... have to go."

[Jaxander]

Allahd nodded slowly. "I understand," he said, standing to see her out. "You know, the magic of the Ruins may be able to aid you in your...predicament." Allahd waited for a reaction, and then continued.
"That buyer that was here earlier? He mentioned an expedition for some of those reputed relics. I'm considering joining him. I am a fair throw with the blade, even now in my twilight years. I'm certain you'd find the trip to be, well, exciting, if nothing else."

[DarkMirror]

"I go into the ruins once a month, as long as I can get supplies. Gods, I never have given up hoping that there might be another Artifact out there that can reverse what the last one did." Tasha mumbles. Then, raising herself up to be level with Allahd, she says, "I would be glad to have company, although I cant... cant really see why you would want me along."

[Jaxander]

"It is not based upon what I want, at least not for myself," Allahd said. "Company in the Ruins is never a bad idea, and if Elaine is planning on organizing a party for such a venture, why not find the relative safety in numbers? I myself have never been, but I'm sure one large group of us is safer than multiple small ones."

[SolidSamurai]

Elaine, having nothing to do, and never the one to revisit people more than once in a day, hit the 'Steel Eel' bar up north of the street, at the junction between the lower and upper city districts.

"Three glasses of sweet ale, mate, I'll be here all night."

He had to wait for that auction to sell out. Hopefully in the morning. He could use the money, since the rest was tied up in a self-prescribed trust fund he couldn't access. Crazy as it might of sounded.

OOC: Oh noes! SolidSamurai has forced a cliche group formation in a tavern! :O

Info on 'Steel Eel': The wooden sign shows a painting of an eel with it's many teeth and long body, poised face first with some kind of an anonymous alcoholic beverage pouring from its mouth like a fountain. The sign creates almost a sort of 'special effect', as the art decor, inside and outside the tavern, correspond to the eel itself.

[Jaxander]

[OOC: One group formation cliche that Allahd would not be a part of. He hates alcohol, and avoids situations involving it.]

[DarkMirror]

And tasha cant exactly just go in a tavern.

[Anoiktos]

[ooc: And, uh, yeah...]

"She's the one! I'd never forget that face!"
"Really, sir? I'd just as soon do so, myself. No accounting for taste. Are you sure you wouldn't like to give it another go?"
"What?"
"Forgetting. It'd make this quite a bit easier on all of us."
"Of course not, you bumbling fool! Arrest her!"

The scene unfolding near the gate to the Upper City is one of no small import to Ferret, who would much prefer not to be molested by the group of guardsmen following her erstwhile victim. He sticks a pudgy finger towards her, screeching loudly like a fishwife while the guardsmen by each gate attempt simultaneously not to notice anything unusual going on. They appear to be quite good at it.

The Captain who follows Mr. Gallicox glares at them angrily, though Ferret is quite sure that this is more because they're leaving him out to dry in the face of a difficult decision than that they aren't assisting him in his current duties. He's newly promoted, judging by the shine of his armor, and as Ferret doesn't recognize him he is likely the son of a nobleman, pushed directly to officer rank by the virtues of breeding. He doesn't, fortunately, seem an openly stupid chap, and Ferret grins mischeviously at him.

"Here, woman," he says, "is what this man is saying true? Did you really accost him, knock out his butler, and steal his gold?" The man says the first two somewhat doubtfully, as though not quite able to believe that anyone would bother to accost such a disgusting man.

"Weel", scythes Ferret's tongue, almost before her brain can catch up to it, "I did put him to inconvenience, yes, and his butler was tryin' to kill me, so I did as needs must, but I've got plenty of my own cash. Y'might try checking the tally of his monies, I've known his type to ply their way to wealth with stealthy lies before." She sneers at Gallicox, neatly picking the straps of one axe before hefting it in one hand, twirling it once to get a feel for the weight. The handle, treated ruinswood so bloodstained as to have gained a rather unique luster, fits comfortingly into one hand as the Captain's eyes widen. The axe is massive, for a one-hander, and despite its wanton construction the blade is sharp and well-crafted.

"I... Take your point, Miss..."

"Ferret's the name, cat. And what's yours? Haven't seen you around the middlegrounds much. 's easy to tell, 'cause your armor's not secure. Usually officers are a mite more careful with their gear, 'cause these things get stolen pretty easy around here." Taken somewhat aback by this - and the suppressed sniggering of his fellow soldiers, the man blanches.

"I, uh.. Thank you for that insight, uh.. Ferret. Is that really your name? Mine's Yomr, by the way."

"Yommer? Well, Ferret's what they call me, 'cause my auld name's nothin' presentable around here. Now, are you going to ignore the fat man and head off to find something useful to do while I get back at him for breakin' our deal, or shall we have us some justice around here?"

"Deal? You threatened my life, you bitch! Mongrel! I am a well-respected citizen hereabouts, and you manhandled me like a sack of potatoes! I should thank your lucky stars you haven't been hauled to the execution block in chains yet! Speaking of which, Captain! Why have you delayed so long!", Gallicox interjects, almost frothing at the mouth. One or two sniggers behind him cause him to swivel in a way that suggests orbital movements to catch them, but Ferret replies:

"A good description of yerself, I might add. Our deal, as it were, was that he'd stop makin' a public nuisance of himself with his public propriety laws, and I would restrain myself from carryin' them out on him. A generous trade, I thought." The burst of laughter following this causes the captain to shake his head despondently while an expression of abject dismay passes across the fat man's face before falling to flat anger. Before he can say anything further, the Captain sighs, and puts up a hand.

"Ferret, you will have to come with us - in chains, if we must, though I'd prefer you to come along quietly. Give your weapons to the gatekeeper here, and I'll be sure you get them back after the trial." Ferret squints at him unbelievingly.

"Give my weapons away? What sort of job are you running around here? You think I'm daft? I'll never get them back." Her confidence is still resplendent, though an undercurrent of doubt surfaces; this is not how this sort of thing should go.

"I don't care what you think, Miss. A prominent member of society has accused you of malicious violence and threats, and so you come with us." Beaten, moreso because she probably can't fight ten guards at once, let alone the ones that would likely follow afterwards, Ferret passes her axes and bow to one of the gate guards, whispering softy and incredibly menacingly into his ear:

"Lose these, and I'll have your skin as a cloak before selling what's left of you to the knackermen, cat."

[RavenCrusade]

[OoooOooc] Sorry to erm.. burst your bubble, but Dan doesn't like beer either. [/OOC]

The Alchemist was busy, working away in his back room. Dan leaned p against a bookshelf, rehearsing his prayers under his breath while he waited. He picked at a seem in his leather glove with the knife, appearing almost to be piercing his hand with the sharp blade.

Tag Dark. :P

[DarkMirror]

Tasha quietly slithered into the three story building through a back door, having left the man in his shop with a few thanks and a note that, if he was willing to play nice, she might be able to meet him in an old burned out warehouse in the Base.

Careful not to knock over any of the stacks of books and trinkets that covered the floor, she saw Dan leaning on a bookshelf and shot backwards, nearly knocking herself over with her own tail.

"Who... who are you?"

[RavenCrusade]

Dan continued muttering under his breath and plucking at the seem in his glove, not bothering to look up. Nobody ever addresses him in the city, so he was used to ignoring open questions. The voice he heard sounded oddly familiar. Where had he heard it before? Ah yes, he remembered. It was a woman he had heard on the walk back from that alley in the Midgrounds. Perhaps she needed something from the Alchemist. Dan wondered who she was talking to as she had entered.

[DarkMirror]

Tasha took a quick peek into the room again, poking her head carefully around the corner and then drawing back. Damn, still there. She certainly didn't recognize him, and she couldn't go see the alchemist if someone else was here.

Carefully, she said, "Do you work for the alchemist?"

[RavenCrusade]

Dan's expression changed to one of confusion. The person this woman was talking to certainly hadn't responded to the first question, at least audibly. Was the woman talking to the Alchemist? No. She had asked if they had worked for the alchemist. Dan was reacting very slowly, concentrating on an intricate part of his prayer. He had even sheathed his knife.

[OOC: I know this is making your character uncomfortable, but that's the point. Both of our characters are the type that stay under the radar, therefor it's only natural that one of us has to be more direct in order to attract the other's (otherwise distracted) attention. :P /]

[Anoiktos]

What the goons hired by Gallicox lacked in subtlety and skill, they more than made up for in strength and persistence. The types of cads who'd be cut in half in a second in the middlegrounds, but whose sadistic tendencies and refreshing lack of morals made them excellent candidates for employment among the upper crust as enforcers. Ferret's body aches; she judges at least two of her fingers as broken, and the rest of her skin resembles little more than a bright purple welt; a single human-sized bruise.

Rolling herself awake, she recognizes the inside of a comfortably-sized cell; the lack of corpses inside is at once reassuring and terrifying, and the solidity and above all size of the surrounding blocks of stone from which the room is made do not engender confidence, rather dread. The bars near the opening give out onto a scarcely-lit hallway with wall sconces for some sort of gas-powered flame, but the door itself - made of rather sturdy-looking metal - has what she recognizes as one of the newer locks, carefully crafted by clockwork to be harder to open the longer one tampers with it.

Resigned to whatever's likely to happen next, perhaps because the ankle and wrist-braces that bind her are an equally depressing detriment to escape as both the solidity of the cell and her own wounded body, she takes stock of the past hour or so - for she has no way of knowing how long she's been unconscious. She rips off a piece of the tattered rags they've replaced her armor with in terms of clothing and forms it into a makeshift bandage for her fingers, binding them as tightly as she can while wincing at the pain, and waits.

Soon enough, the patter and clang of footsteps can be heard heading sheepishly towards her cell door, and before long the light sconce on the far side of the wall brightens with a constant flame. She looks upwards into familiar eyes - those of Yomr, the Captain who arrested her - and is not entirely surprised to see both pity, shame, and regret in their frosty depths.

"Miss Ferret, I came to apologize, and ..." he bites his lip, and when he looks back into her eyes she realizes he's been crying. "I didn't think he'd be able to make the charge stick, but when no witnesses would stand up for you, well... I don't know. I don't think I'll ever forget this. How could I be so stupid?" His chin quivers as he bites down hard, a thin rivulet of blood streaming downwards. Ferret smiles, both at his naiveté and at the thought that a noble boy like him would even care about what happened to her. Upon noticing her smile, he cringes and backs away fearfully, but eventually rationalizes it as her mind having been addled by the beating.

"I... It's not strictly legal for them to... Torture you like that, but no one would listen - it's almost as though they all knew it was going on, but didn't really care. Anyhow, I guess I have to tell you sometime. You've been sentenced to death." He sighs, and looks away, massaging his temples with thumb and forefinger.

As though to an invisible presence above, he mumbles something about forgiveness, but his heart doesn't really seem in it, and he settles for kneeling down to face her. Speaking almost offhandedly, as though to himself, he continues:

"That evil bastard - Gallicox, is it? - he felt a swift execution was too good for you, and somehow got the others to agree, so you're to be eaten by leotaurs. I guess... He did you a favor, then, when they beat you up. Maybe you won't even notice." At this, Ferret's smile broadens, and she shakes her head.

"I ain't crazzyh", she stutters, her voice thin and quiet, drawn out as though it were little more than a subtle breeze. "Yhher just so.. Stuppid, think'n tht thi' wouln' happnn." Two of her teeth are missing, now, and the rest are bloodied; he steps back in disgust at the damage to her voice and face, and surprise at her lucidity, but thinks better of it.

"If you knew... Then why did you come with us? Why not run?" He seems confused, and almost afraid by the idea that someone would go to die on their own terms. Ferret's smile returns, painfully, and she mutters:

"S'mtims, y'gotta stn'd up f'r yer words. An' I didn' think I'd runn too wll frm ten o' yahh." She nods towards him, and he sighs guiltily. The two of them sit there for some time, him thinking, her resting, until he opens the door.

"They sent me to bring you to the arena; Gallicox wanted the execution to be as soon as possible. I'm to take off the leg shackles, but they didn't even want to give you what chance you'd have, damaged as you are, with your hands free." She smiles at this, her eyes glittering through blood and bile, her short-cropped hair slimy with muck.

"They's alwayys affraid, mmmhh?" He nods thoughtfully, and the two of them walk, one a prisoner to society and the other to his own guilt, to the gate that leads onto the arena.

[DarkMirror]

The man seemed perfectly content to ignore her, so Tasha figured it might be best to simply find another way around. She had done so before, and the alchemist had accepted it, although she had had to pay extra for the broken window.

Carefully, she slid open the narrow doorway that lead to the nearly forgotten staircase and closed it once her bulk was coiled behind her, then slithered down the old metal steps. Eventually she was outside, in one of the dark alleyways of the area, and she found the pillar she had climbed through to get inside last time.

Carefully checking to make sure no one saw her, she slithered and coiled her way up, eventually finding the window. Gently, she knocked, and then the alchemist was there, opening it. "Tasha? What in the gods name are you doing using the window again?"

"Some moron was inside your shop. Might be waiting for something. Anyways... you know why I'm here. Antivenins past its expiry date, I need more."

The alchemist laughed, heading out of the room after giving Tasha a hand in getting inside. Calling back to her, he said, "Well, you know the price. I assume you have the money...?"

Tasha nodded to herself, clutching her pouch and feeling the large number of Eyes held within.

Meanwhile, the alchemist came out and laid a hand on Dan's shoulder. "Your waiting for something? My boy, you do know that i have other customers, right? Some of which prefer to remain anonymous. Your not exactly encouraging them to come to me for business."

[RavenCrusade]

[OOC: Damn you DM! You not only avoided attracting my attention, but ruined my allaby of having comissioned something from him and waiting until he had it ready in a single post. Oh well, you made the RP. You can do that. :P/]

Dan had finished his prayer and looked up only to find the woman missing from the room and the Alchemist tapping him on the shoulder in her place. Startled, it takes him a minute to respond. "Ah, yes. I'm hear to pick up the mixture of reagents I comissioned yesternight, I'm sure you've seen to it they were properly prepared?"

[SolidSamurai]

OOC: You guys will have to meet Elaine at the auction house then. Always the tactician, Elaine has a plotted starting route for the ruins, but no plan as to the location of any true hoarde of wealth. Rather, a list of 'entry ways' into 'dungeon' locations.

NOTE: Darkmirror will have to PM me the details of the probable map Elaine has drawn up a few weeks ago.

[DarkMirror]

"Yes, I do have it ready, almost. Its still airing out, have to have it dry before I can do the last mixing preparations. Now, if you don't mind, I would appreciate it if you waited in my sitting room, away from the customers?"

After shooing him off, the alchemist returned to Tasha. Taking her offering of about a hundred Eyes, he put them in a box carefully and turned back to her, smiling. "I dont see your reasons for getting me to make your antivenin, but its certainly makes me a profit, so very well. I'll have you get me a sample, as always."

Tasha looked rather embarrassed, and grabbed one of the glass bottles on his worktable, the particular one having some sort of thick material covering the top. Taking a breath, she bit down with her two fangs and shuddered as she felt the venom pump out of them.

After a few moments she removed the bottle, spitting onto the floor. The alchemist took the bottle, putting it down on the table again. "Very well. You stay here for a moment, I'll get right back to you."

He left, and went to grinding and puring several powders and liquids togethor. Putting the final concoction into a glass bottle, he was about to head out of the room when a bell rang. "Damn... looks like someone is here to see me. Dan, your brew is in here, come get it!"

The man wandered away, and Tasha suddenly realized he had forgotten she was there. She heard footsteps approaching, and looked frantically for a place to hide, but it was too late. Dan stood in the doorway, and she was totally exposed and out in the open.

Godshit.

[RavenCrusade]

[OOC: Catchy term, I'll have to remember that one. /]

Dan stood at the doorway. He scanned the room, searching for a vial of some kind. Of course, he wouldn't be able to spot it so easily. He was looking for a specific leaf in a tree. He walked into the room and began reading labels on containers. He heard a muffled rattling and looked up, only to see a woman on the other side of the table. "Ah!" he said, realising this was probably the woman he had heard in hallway earlier. "Pardon me, miss. I'm simply here to pick up a mixture from the alchemist." As he found his vile, he turned to walk away when he heard a rattling again. He couldn't quite put a finger on what the sound was coming from, and as he turned around his face distorted in surprise. "What is tha-?" Had he not tucked the vial into his jacket, he would have lost his grip on it. He stared blankly at the woman in the room, noticing she had the lower half of a snake. Although he had scanned the room well, the woman had remained hidden by blending in with the multitudes of colours. He now noticed the tail which carried a rattle. "Ah." he said, thoughtfully. Dan stood there, at a loss for words. He had heard of certain.. occurances happening. But never with such a.. large section of the body.

[DarkMirror]

Kudos to godshit and godspit goes to China Mieville, creator of the world of Bas-Lag, :)

Tasha had frozen, and against her will her tail had started rattling again. One of the worst nervous tics a thief could have, really. Carefully, she reached to her waist and drew the shorter of her two swords.

"I don't want to hurt you."

[RavenCrusade]

Almost slapping himself on the head, Dan realised the woman was not a monster, simply a "disfigured", as the politicians put it, human. Visibly relaxing, he held out his hands on either side of him. "Neither do I, I'm only here to pick up my reagents." he said with as calm a voice as he could muster. Pointing towards her lower half he asked "I take it that.. transformation was because of..?" Dan had stopped mentioning it aloud a long time ago.

[DarkMirror]

Tasha smirked, eying Dan warily. carefully slithering a few feet to the side, she kept her shortsword drawn on him. Barely covering the curiosity in her voice, she said, "Because of what...? What have you heard about this, what have you heard about what happened to me?"

[RavenCrusade]

Dan's gaze rested on the woman's face. "To say there is an abundance of rumors about you is an understatement. I hear about a snake-monster created by sorcery on a nightly basis." he stated casually, trying to calm her down. Chuckling, Dan continued. "They say you can kill three men with the poison in your fangs.." suddenly something occured to Dan. "You.. you don't want to kill anyone around here, do you? You came here to have the alchemist make an antivenom. Ah.." he shuddered at the thought of always being on the run, everyone condemming you, everyone hunting you.

[DarkMirror]

Tasha nods quietly. "I only kill when I have to. It's you people who are coming after me all the time, you people who tried to burn me alive or kill me in my sleep."

Slowly, she lowered her sword, then sheathed it again. Looking at him almost pleadingly, she said, "Please, please... don't tell people about me coming here. This... this is the only place I can go. If you tell people about it, not only will I have no way of getting antivenin, the alchemist will suffer too."

[Mr.Bad]

Let's see about a late entrance here.

Name: Vanithor Korgan
Gender: Male
Age: 28

Appearance: Vanithor has extremely pale skin that has led to certain rumors of his being something other than human. Though these rumors are false, Vanithor makes no effort to discourage them. A thick vertical scar runs over his left eye socket, though fortunately his damaged eye has been replaced by a red orb which is presumably an artifact of some sort. He traditionally wears a black cloak over black leather armor. He is never seen without his vambraces: gauntlets of some peculiar black metal, with inset red crystals.

History: Vanithor's past remains shadowy. What is known is that he moved into the lower city when he was 19, acquiring a job with the local alchemist. He worked there for a time, helping to make different concoctions and sometimes wandering into the ruins in search of valuable artifacts. He returned from one such excursion alone. The entire party he went out with had been slaughtered, and he had lost an eye. Though his party was destroyed, he had managed to acquire a pair of artifacts. a set of dark metal vambraces with inset red crystals. Vanithor quit his job as soon as he recovered from his wounds, and soon vanished from public life. He had set up a hidden home in the deepest parts of the lower city, among the sewers. Though always unnoticed, he often slipped out on more excursions into the ruins, retrieving more artifacts to add to his growing collection, including the magical wand that he now carries. He has always managed well enough on his own, but he has discovered rumors of an unusual artifact deep within the ruins, and he isn't sure he can acquire it without aid...

Equipment: Vanithor considers himself to be an Artifactual Mage. He has few magical abilities of his own, but utilizes a variety of items of power to carry out his will.

Vanithor's vambraces are mystical items with a wide range of abilities. They can enhance different physical characteristics, strengthen the power of other artifacts that he wields, and allow him to inflict immense pain to someone who he touches with them.

Vanithor has an intricate wand of bone which displays a snake's head carved into the base of the handle. It can project bursts of fire or shadow energy.

Vanithor's replacement eye is a crystalline ball with a very slight glow. This red orb provide normal vision, but also can detect the auras of artifacts. This was his second discovery, and was what allowed him to continue to find artifacts.

Vanithor also wears a simple silver chain around his neck that can allow him to escape notice. Not invisibility, just not noticed.

Picture of Vambraces: Though imagine that the metal is black and there is a red crystal inset into it.
http://www.artisanarmours.co.uk/fvambpl.jpg

[Jaxander]

Clang!

The lights in the street dimmed and Allahd went to work at the forge yet again. Even in his age, he still couldn't deny the satisfaction he received just hearing the hammer ringing against the steel.

He had found the note from Tasha in the forge, and he appreciated it. It felt good to be able to do something for someone in need, even if it meant putting off gifts for his loved ones.

Loved ones. Speaking of that, his wife had not been too keen on him entering the Ruins, or at least potentiall entering them. She claimed he was too old, said it was far too dangerous, and all the rest.

But he was already 38, already well over his midlife, and what does he have to show for it in terms of providing for his family? A steady meal, and a cramped one room apartment. Nothing that even remotely symbolizes how much they mean to him. And if he could begin selling in Up-Market, then he could glean more than an average of one sale a day.

He thought he may indeed meet with Tasha at some point, perhaps bring her some more food, if he could afford it. If she agreed to help in the Ruins venture, and they could track down the buyer from earlier today who had planted the adventure bug in Allahd's head, they could actually get sort of a company going.

Allahd considered visiting the tavern. He normally didn't, alcohol being such a volatile drink as it is. But many did, and he thought it'd be a good place to look for the Ruins-enthusiast.

He realised he had stopped his smithing, and swung the hammer up and over, so it struck the hot steel with sparks and a sound resounding off of the walls of his forge.

Clang!

[Anoiktos]

"Yommer?", Ferret blurts, quietly; "Whyd'youu caarhe whhat hhappenss to mme?" She looks up at him, and he winces, shaking his head. The gate to the arena stands in front of them, and Yomr should, he knows, be opening it to bring in the accused, but just now the silence and calm of the hallway seems to overwhelm them, to coat them like a soundless mask.

He clears his throat:

"I... Asked around about you, Ferret. The general consensus from the other guardsmen is that you're a good person, and certainly not someone who deserves... Well, this. I was curious", he confesses, "because you didn't act like the street toughs; you're neither petulant nor cowardly, and I've never met anyone like that. Everyone, I mean..." he swallows nervously, "Everyone I've met has been self-absorbed, uninterested in others; everyone I know thinks about their future, and the consequences of their actions. You just seem to do what's right." He grows silent, for a time, and she smiles.

"How'dd ya figger that'ss hhow I'sh alway's actin'? Maybbe I'm jess' connin' ya." Her expression is mischevious, behind the welts, and his expression turns sour, almost pitying.

"Of all the guards I'd talked to, not one I'd judge as level-headed had anything bad to say about you that I hadn't already known. Considering how much gossip flies around the guardhouse, I figure they'd know if you were the type to do that sort of thing." He bites his lip. "Anyhow, I... Guess it's time for you to go. Goodbye, Miss-" she levels a finger to his mouth, shushing him, as the chains about her wrists clank on the flagstones.

"Tashkali", she whispers, and as the gate opens, she walks through, head held high. The arena is not overly large, being mostly a means of retribution for those with enough political clout, but it appears to be packed full of people, and there are gasps as she steps into the sunlight, her bruised and battered body lit for all to see. The Crier speaks, reading aloud the writ of execution proffered to him by Gallicox.

"Let it be known that on this day, one Ferret was accused of offering violence to a councilmember in good standing, and that the means of her execution should be by leotaurs, as their habit of slowly devouring their victims alive has been found appropriate to the greviousness of her crimes, that she be given time to think upon them before her demise. Let Their Word Be Done!" As he finishes his speech, the crowd cheers, always interested in seeing a violent execution firsthand. Those of them nearer the ring, however, seem less than comfortable at the sight of a chained, obviously damaged prisoner; this is no sport, but slaughter.

As she reaches the center of the arena, Ferret sweeps her gaze around, seemingly catching each and every one of the spectators by eye, and just as easily silencing them. There is something awkward, to say the least, about a prisoner who acts like a queen even faced with certain death. It is in this atmosphere that a cry is heard, before the gates to the Leotaur are opened, from the prisoner's gate.

"Stop! Stop! I have something to say first!" - not the most imaginative of lines, but then it doesn't come from the most imaginative person. (nor one in a mood, at this point, to be loquacious) Tomr enters the arena, the sword by his side held high.

"What is the meaning of this!" Gallicox screeches, using the cliché in deference to narrative convention. Tomr glances towards Ferret, then looks back up to the seat of the Council and takes a deep breath, as much to calm himself as to speak.

"I, Tomr Yldwahar, of the House Yldwahar, do call upon the noble's right to chapion this woman. I cannot in good conscience stand by as she is given no chance to fight back against such a cruel death."

The silence ensuing this exclamation is devouring; his temerity appears to have stolen the breath of everyone watching, their attention shifting from the shining knight in the center of the arena to the somewhat pompous councilmembers at its side. Finally, one of them speaks, a thin, wrinkled man with long, slanted eyes.

"You stand no chance against these creatures, Tomr; are you prepared to die for nothing, in the name of a criminal?" He sniggers at the thought, and Tomr's face turns pale - both at the thought that they would leave a prisoner bound and battered in the face of predators an armored knight could not hope to fight against, and that the man has so little honor as to admit this. The guard steels himself, his face melting into what he hopes is an expression of bravery.

"I should like to think that my honor, and that of my family, is worth at least as much as my life, my Lord." The little man on the balcony seems taken aback at the subtle insult, but nods.

"Then so be it, Yomr. Let the execution begin!" As the councilman speaks, the gate on the far side of the arena begins to open; Yomr begins to shake in fright, and barely keeps himself from jumping when he feels a nudge in his side.

"Why'd you go ann do somethinn sstupid llike thatt?", she asks, only partially sarcastically. Tomr, whose lip is now mangled from all the nervous biting, shoots back:

"Sometimes, one has to stand up for one's words. A rather amazing woman told me that." Ferret's grin widens, and she spits a bloody clot to the ground.

"Yerr mmother, wwas it? Back to back, Tommer. Wee've ggot an uphill ffight ahhead of uss, ann though Iy've ffought thesse thingss bafore, it'll be harrder ta sstart oot wiff a hanndicap like thiss." Ferret smiles mischeviously at him, her eyes twinkling with delight. "Pretty speech y' maade, there; I susppose I'll have to thhank ya after we gett out of thiss." Tomr gapes at her, disbelieving, until she points him in the other direction, towards one of the Leotaurs - man-sized, half-lion, half-bull creatures that appear to be stalking around the pair, eyeing it like the tastiest of delicacies waiting to be consumed.

One leaps first - towards the more appetizing of the targets, the one not coated in metal, and though the speed of its pounce is terrifying, Ferret had begun to move even before the creature left the ground, spinning her body around as she jumps. She lands on its back, the chain between her arms wrapped around its neck, and pulls upwards, causing the creature to bat its forepaws violently at her form as she uses the chain as leverage to avoid them - for just long enough that the other leotaur crashes into its companion, creating a wide red gash in its side - and clipping Ferret's arm, which begins exuding blood and pus.

"Don't jusst sstand thherr lke a lumpp!", Ferret screams, and Tomr, hypnotized by the speed of the three creatures' reactions, jets into action, neatly slicing the hamstring of one of the inconvenienced leotaurs. It turns around to bite its attacker, but its teeth catch only metal, and though the puncture wounds have obviously put the man to some inconvenience, he swings again.

Meanwhile, the other leotaur has an interesting dilemma: it's swiftly running out of air, and the creature riding its back is like a gnat; not heavy, but incredibly difficult to swat. Ferret appears also to have lost all vestige of sanity, as she stays on even as the creature goes berzerk and runs towards one of the walls, leaping vertically towards the guards who man the sidelines in case of emergencies - like this one. They dutifully choose to run away, uninterested in fighting a one-ton mix of flesh, blood, fur, claws, and metal, and the leotaur collapses from exertion and lack of breath as Ferret swings to one side and breaks the chain holding her arms together on one of the creature's massive teeth.

Tomr seems to have the situation under control - that is to say, he isn't dead yet - and the leotaur facing him has acquired several nasty-looking gashes in its face and arms, even as Yomr's armor is ripped and torn, and he appears unable to move his left arm very much. While noblemen are all trained to use a blade, 'fencing' and 'swordsmanship' seem almost inconsequential when fighting something with teeth sharp enough to pierce armor. The creature attempts to leap once more, but falls with a painful crunch as a thrown spear impales its leg, pinning it into place. Ferret smiles - viciously - at the terrified guard whose weapon she's borrowed, and as Tomr ends the Leotaur's misery, she deftly climbs the side of the Council's balcony.

Ferret seems almost to exude a palpable aura of menace, of hatred, of anger so great that it has sharpened itself to a point, and that point is aimed firmly at one man. Her arm, leg, and torso are badly wounded from the Leotaur's efforts, and pus oozes from the stricken bruises around her body, but she seems oblivious to the pain:

"Yoou Shpinnelesss, Cowwardly, Oathh-brreaking Worrm", she screams, as Gallicox cringes. "I shoulld kkill yoou heere annd nnow for" here she stops to cough blood onto the ground, shaking uncontrollably, "Buut I wwon't. Tthat'd be ttoo good forr you. I..." She is interrupted by Tomr's screams - his voice breaks from exhaustion and fear, but he seems to have found enough breath to continue:

"Members of the council! As a noble in good standing who has won the Challenge, by right of the laws of our city I hereby proclaim the prisoner absolved of all charges! I ask that you now grant us leave, so that the Lady Tashkali may leave in peace without further issue!" Ferret starts at this, and peers suspiciously at him before straightening Gallicox onto his chair.

"Yyou hheard the mman, ppeople. Gget us out of here!" Ferret bubbles absentmindedly - something about flowerpots - before collapsing onto the ground, covering the stone floor with rivulets of blood and bile.

[Mr.Bad]

Vanithor Korgan
Walking to the Alchemist's
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Crowds. Vanithor loved crowds. This may seem odd for one who doesn't want to be seen, but Vanithor knew the beauty of anonymity. His skill at blending in compounded with the silver chain he wore around his neck made certain that he never would fear notice as long as he was with other people. He was in exile, but traveled about the city like anyone else.

Presently, he was traveling to the Alchemist to get a potion for his artificial eye. His body's natural reaction was to reject the artifact staring out of his left socket. The Alchemist had created a recipe for a potion to control his body's immune system, and he had purchase more regularly. The Alchemist was one of the few people in the city who knew of Vanithor's true identity. This was, of course, unavoidable, since he was the Alchemist's apprentice years ago.

He looked up and saw the three-story building looming up ahead. Quickening his pace, he proceeded across the worn cobblestone swiftly, though without appearing to run. This was, of course, because of his vambraces. They worked their subtle work and warped reality ever so slightly. Whether it was his legs reaching out farther than they should or the ground compressing beneath his feet, it was impossible to tell. Regardless, he soon stood before the large stone building. He opened the wooden shop door, causing the bell to ring. The Alchemist quickly approached from the richly adorned hallway leading into the main area of the shop.

"Ah, Vanithor, you have come for a resupply? This way, I will get you what I have made." The Alchemist spoke out as he guided Vanithor into the hallway with his arm.

"I have told you not to call me by my name here, Garrett, though my face will not be remembered by those who sight me, my artifacts hold no control over the memory of names." Vanithor whispered with tension, turning his head to glare at the Alchemist.

"Yes, yes, of course, my former apprentice, anything for you." Though the Alchemist tried to put on an apologetic face, his voice was anything but sincere. Vanithor knew he wasn't really sorry. Vanithor's former master felt no loyalty to anyone or anything but wealth. The only reason the secret of his existence remained undisclosed was because Vanithor paid handsomely for the production of his potion. The Alchemist knew that if word slipped out, Vanithor would no be returning, except perhaps for a midnight visit with an unfortunate ending.

As they entered the main chamber, walls lined with shelved p