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Arcanis: Gonnes, Sons, and Treasure Runs (COMPLETED)
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<blockquote data-quote="talien" data-source="post: 2909904" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>Death in Freeport - Part 1: The Press Gang</strong></p><p></p><p>Nauris Drilian stepped off of the Shrike. Or rather, he hopped off it after the crazy pirate captain threatened to make him sing a song to “prove he was all right.” </p><p></p><p>Dril was dressed in a full body cloak, the hood of which concealed his features. He scanned the docks. The note he had taken off the impostor’s body spoke of a “pit” in Freeport. If there were other Ssanu posing as Altharins, Dril planned to root them out. </p><p></p><p>The action on the docks was mesmerizing. There were ships in port from all over the world, carrying every manner of exotics goods. Sailors and merchants of all races and backgrounds mingled on the wharves; money changed hands so fast he could barely even follow it. The sights and sounds were so overwhelming that he almost didn’t notice a group of men gathering around him.</p><p></p><p>Dril’s hand darted under his cloak to his scimitar, which he had taken off the Shining Patrol impostor. </p><p></p><p>They were all scarred and crusty sailors armed with saps and belaying pins. The leader of the scurvy dogs, a toothless man with tattooed knuckles, smiled crookedly.</p><p></p><p>“You’ve just volunteered for an exciting life at sea,” he cackled. “Do you want to go the easy way or the hard way?”</p><p></p><p>“I just got off a boat,” said Dril through clenched teeth. “I don’t intend to get back on it.”</p><p></p><p>The crowd parted around them, but no one moved to help.</p><p></p><p>“Oh I don’t think you understand,” said Toothless. “I’m not asking. Well, okay I was asking. But you don’t have a choice.”</p><p></p><p>He was surrounded. There were men behind him, slapping saps into open palms. Dril crouched slightly, feeling the comforting touch of his dagger against his right thigh. </p><p></p><p>Dril’s other hand ducked under his cloak. “You’re making a mistake.”</p><p></p><p>Toothless’ sap whistled towards Dril’s head, but it never connected. The wicked point of a scimitar blade protruded from the grizzled sailor’s back.</p><p></p><p>Then everything became a blur. Dril’s other hand slashed upwards, slitting a sailor’s throat open. </p><p>Flashes of pain reverberated across Dril’s back and shoulders, but none struck his head. He considered himself lucky. Hi whirled, his cloak snapping into the faces of those behind him. He crouched down and away, making himself as small as possible. Two sailors fell for it. They advanced, saps raised high, only to find unforgiving steel in their bellies. </p><p></p><p>Dril rose like a ghost from docks, his cloak slithering backwards off the blood and corpses. “Anyone else?” he asked, breathing hard.</p><p></p><p>The remaining sailors turn and fled. Dril sheathed his weapons as a large man in full plate armor clanked awkwardly down the docks towards him. </p><p></p><p>“That’ll teach them to pick on newcomers,” he said with a smile. “Are you okay?”</p><p></p><p>“I’m fine,” said Dril. “They made me an offer.” He looked down at the corpses at his feet. “I refused.”</p><p></p><p>“Then perhaps you will take this offer instead,” said a man behind them.</p><p></p><p>Both of them turned to see a slight, bearded man in robes. “And who are you?” asked Dril.</p><p></p><p>“Where are my manners? I’m brother Egil. Are you with Kaiyem?”</p><p></p><p>“Who?” asked Dril.</p><p></p><p>“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Egil. “I thought because you were an Altherian that you were with my friend. I sent him an urgent message.”</p><p></p><p>“Kham,” Vlad said the name slowly, because he was no longer sure if he was saying it correctly, “told us to meet him at the Pale Plate.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Perhaps we should talk there.”</p><p></p><p>“Yes,” said Egil. He turned to Dril. “If you are true to your Altherian brothers, you might be interested in what I have to say.” His eyes darted to the long, covered rod that was strapped beneath Dril’s cloak across his back.</p><p></p><p>“You’re a priest of Althere?” Egil nodded. “Then I will listen.”</p><p></p><p>They stepped over the bodies as looters darted in, stripping the bodies bare and tossing the corpses off the pier. </p><p></p><p>“Is Kaiyem at the Pale Plate?” asked Egil.</p><p></p><p>“Not yet,” said Vlad. He looked embarrassed. “I’m not sure where he is…”</p><p></p><p>Egil nodded sagely. “He’s probably hung over.”</p><p></p><p>“So you know him,” said Vlad.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 2909904, member: 3285"] [b]Death in Freeport - Part 1: The Press Gang[/b] Nauris Drilian stepped off of the Shrike. Or rather, he hopped off it after the crazy pirate captain threatened to make him sing a song to “prove he was all right.” Dril was dressed in a full body cloak, the hood of which concealed his features. He scanned the docks. The note he had taken off the impostor’s body spoke of a “pit” in Freeport. If there were other Ssanu posing as Altharins, Dril planned to root them out. The action on the docks was mesmerizing. There were ships in port from all over the world, carrying every manner of exotics goods. Sailors and merchants of all races and backgrounds mingled on the wharves; money changed hands so fast he could barely even follow it. The sights and sounds were so overwhelming that he almost didn’t notice a group of men gathering around him. Dril’s hand darted under his cloak to his scimitar, which he had taken off the Shining Patrol impostor. They were all scarred and crusty sailors armed with saps and belaying pins. The leader of the scurvy dogs, a toothless man with tattooed knuckles, smiled crookedly. “You’ve just volunteered for an exciting life at sea,” he cackled. “Do you want to go the easy way or the hard way?” “I just got off a boat,” said Dril through clenched teeth. “I don’t intend to get back on it.” The crowd parted around them, but no one moved to help. “Oh I don’t think you understand,” said Toothless. “I’m not asking. Well, okay I was asking. But you don’t have a choice.” He was surrounded. There were men behind him, slapping saps into open palms. Dril crouched slightly, feeling the comforting touch of his dagger against his right thigh. Dril’s other hand ducked under his cloak. “You’re making a mistake.” Toothless’ sap whistled towards Dril’s head, but it never connected. The wicked point of a scimitar blade protruded from the grizzled sailor’s back. Then everything became a blur. Dril’s other hand slashed upwards, slitting a sailor’s throat open. Flashes of pain reverberated across Dril’s back and shoulders, but none struck his head. He considered himself lucky. Hi whirled, his cloak snapping into the faces of those behind him. He crouched down and away, making himself as small as possible. Two sailors fell for it. They advanced, saps raised high, only to find unforgiving steel in their bellies. Dril rose like a ghost from docks, his cloak slithering backwards off the blood and corpses. “Anyone else?” he asked, breathing hard. The remaining sailors turn and fled. Dril sheathed his weapons as a large man in full plate armor clanked awkwardly down the docks towards him. “That’ll teach them to pick on newcomers,” he said with a smile. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine,” said Dril. “They made me an offer.” He looked down at the corpses at his feet. “I refused.” “Then perhaps you will take this offer instead,” said a man behind them. Both of them turned to see a slight, bearded man in robes. “And who are you?” asked Dril. “Where are my manners? I’m brother Egil. Are you with Kaiyem?” “Who?” asked Dril. “Oh, I’m sorry,” said Egil. “I thought because you were an Altherian that you were with my friend. I sent him an urgent message.” “Kham,” Vlad said the name slowly, because he was no longer sure if he was saying it correctly, “told us to meet him at the Pale Plate.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Perhaps we should talk there.” “Yes,” said Egil. He turned to Dril. “If you are true to your Altherian brothers, you might be interested in what I have to say.” His eyes darted to the long, covered rod that was strapped beneath Dril’s cloak across his back. “You’re a priest of Althere?” Egil nodded. “Then I will listen.” They stepped over the bodies as looters darted in, stripping the bodies bare and tossing the corpses off the pier. “Is Kaiyem at the Pale Plate?” asked Egil. “Not yet,” said Vlad. He looked embarrassed. “I’m not sure where he is…” Egil nodded sagely. “He’s probably hung over.” “So you know him,” said Vlad. [/QUOTE]
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