Slippshade
First Post
Bale Kell
/// Sharn, midday, Sul , Third Week of Therendor (also known as Therendor 15, the 'Sun's Blessing'), 998YK///
‘Why am I hear?’
'Because I asked you to come.’ The voice was soft, calming almost
‘As if I had a choice.’
‘You always have a choice, you can do what I ask, or we can argue about it and you will still do what I ask.’ If a thought could smile it would have. ‘Am I so bad to have around?’
‘…no...though I still do not know why I am here.’
'Because you are needed… and I asked politely.’
‘Always so cryptic.’
‘I am a woman, of course I am cryptic, though I like to think of myself as mysterious.’
‘You are a sword, Edana’
**Anger and bitter pain**
‘I am sorry.’ Strange though it was, he really did mean it.
**silence**
The door to 111 Melden Tower opened before Bale Kell could answer the silence.
“Good day Master Kell, and welcome to Ja’Korn’s Manor. My name is Phol Rook, if you would please follow me, I will show you to your room.”
Phol Rook was an older gentleman, butler for life by the looks of it. His clothes were immaculate and pressed stiff as a board. A proper man, efficient and disciplined. The type of person Bale would have enjoyed breaking, he represented everything about Breland that Bale had been taught to hate. So secure in his safe tower above the masses of downtrodden creatures of the lower Sharn.
That life seemed so long ago, before Magique’ricera, before Edana, Before the Mournlands. It had been nearly two years to the day that he had stumbled out of the cursed land, clutching Magique’ricera in his hand.
Bale followed Phol up a flight of stairs to one of the manor rooms. The view off the side of Melden Tower was impressive. Airskiffs could be seen flittering to and fro between the towers, there was the hustle and bustle of citizens passing between buildings on enormous pedestrian bridges both above and below. The room was tastefully decorated without being ostentatious. With some surprise Bale noticed that his adventuring gear had somehow been brought to this room without his knowledge.
“You will be meeting your new employer this afternoon. If you have need of anything please ring this bell,” Phol motions towards a tiny golden belt resting on a mahogany end table next to the door, “and I will return.”
Bale did not answer, waiting for the butler to leave.
‘I said I was sorry.’
**silence**
Bale knew he had hurt her feelings.
‘Alright then, we wait.’
/// Sharn, Afternoon, Sul , Third Week of Therendor (also known as Therendor 15, the 'Sun's Blessing'), 998YK///
**knock, knock**
There was a knock at the door.
Apparently Phol Rook had returned as he promised and Bale was waiting for him.
Bale worn an emerald green tunic with silver embroidered trim and slashed sleeves, black leather breeches tucked into black boots and the ancient scabbard and darkblade Magique’ricera belted to his waist. His mithril shirt can be seen glimmering above the v-shaped collar of his tunic and a black cloak lay across his shoulders, its hood pulled back revealing his mass of long, beaded braids of black hair. The emerald shirt almost highlights the slight greenish tinge to his skin.
Without a word Bale followed Phol out of the room. Some of the others were already with the butler as they made there way through the manor picking up all kinds of strange beings before making the decent to the cave they currently occupy.
‘Good, it’s starting.’
‘I thought you weren’t talking to me?’ It was Bale’s turn to be amused.
‘Hush, this is important.’
‘I am sorry.’
‘I know you are dear.’
Bale seats himself when asked, pulling Magique’ricera and its scabbard from his belt to make sitting more comfortable and sets them on the table in front of him, slowly tracing the arcane symbols of the scabbard and hilt with his left index finger. Bale listens to the ugly man called 13 and then to each introduction. When there is an opening he introduces himself. Without taking his eyes from Magique’ricera, still tracing its markings, he says…
“I am Bale Kell, warrior and sorcerer. I have only made one trip to the Mournlands and was lucky to survive. It is a place that changes you.”
‘For the better I hope.’
‘Hush’
(ooc) I hope this isn't too confusing for people, but I was having fun writing it.
(/ooc)
/// Sharn, midday, Sul , Third Week of Therendor (also known as Therendor 15, the 'Sun's Blessing'), 998YK///
‘Why am I hear?’
'Because I asked you to come.’ The voice was soft, calming almost
‘As if I had a choice.’
‘You always have a choice, you can do what I ask, or we can argue about it and you will still do what I ask.’ If a thought could smile it would have. ‘Am I so bad to have around?’
‘…no...though I still do not know why I am here.’
'Because you are needed… and I asked politely.’
‘Always so cryptic.’
‘I am a woman, of course I am cryptic, though I like to think of myself as mysterious.’
‘You are a sword, Edana’
**Anger and bitter pain**
‘I am sorry.’ Strange though it was, he really did mean it.
**silence**
The door to 111 Melden Tower opened before Bale Kell could answer the silence.
“Good day Master Kell, and welcome to Ja’Korn’s Manor. My name is Phol Rook, if you would please follow me, I will show you to your room.”
Phol Rook was an older gentleman, butler for life by the looks of it. His clothes were immaculate and pressed stiff as a board. A proper man, efficient and disciplined. The type of person Bale would have enjoyed breaking, he represented everything about Breland that Bale had been taught to hate. So secure in his safe tower above the masses of downtrodden creatures of the lower Sharn.
That life seemed so long ago, before Magique’ricera, before Edana, Before the Mournlands. It had been nearly two years to the day that he had stumbled out of the cursed land, clutching Magique’ricera in his hand.
Bale followed Phol up a flight of stairs to one of the manor rooms. The view off the side of Melden Tower was impressive. Airskiffs could be seen flittering to and fro between the towers, there was the hustle and bustle of citizens passing between buildings on enormous pedestrian bridges both above and below. The room was tastefully decorated without being ostentatious. With some surprise Bale noticed that his adventuring gear had somehow been brought to this room without his knowledge.
“You will be meeting your new employer this afternoon. If you have need of anything please ring this bell,” Phol motions towards a tiny golden belt resting on a mahogany end table next to the door, “and I will return.”
Bale did not answer, waiting for the butler to leave.
‘I said I was sorry.’
**silence**
Bale knew he had hurt her feelings.
‘Alright then, we wait.’
/// Sharn, Afternoon, Sul , Third Week of Therendor (also known as Therendor 15, the 'Sun's Blessing'), 998YK///
**knock, knock**
There was a knock at the door.
Apparently Phol Rook had returned as he promised and Bale was waiting for him.
Bale worn an emerald green tunic with silver embroidered trim and slashed sleeves, black leather breeches tucked into black boots and the ancient scabbard and darkblade Magique’ricera belted to his waist. His mithril shirt can be seen glimmering above the v-shaped collar of his tunic and a black cloak lay across his shoulders, its hood pulled back revealing his mass of long, beaded braids of black hair. The emerald shirt almost highlights the slight greenish tinge to his skin.
Without a word Bale followed Phol out of the room. Some of the others were already with the butler as they made there way through the manor picking up all kinds of strange beings before making the decent to the cave they currently occupy.
‘Good, it’s starting.’
‘I thought you weren’t talking to me?’ It was Bale’s turn to be amused.
‘Hush, this is important.’
‘I am sorry.’
‘I know you are dear.’
Bale seats himself when asked, pulling Magique’ricera and its scabbard from his belt to make sitting more comfortable and sets them on the table in front of him, slowly tracing the arcane symbols of the scabbard and hilt with his left index finger. Bale listens to the ugly man called 13 and then to each introduction. When there is an opening he introduces himself. Without taking his eyes from Magique’ricera, still tracing its markings, he says…
“I am Bale Kell, warrior and sorcerer. I have only made one trip to the Mournlands and was lucky to survive. It is a place that changes you.”
‘For the better I hope.’
‘Hush’
(ooc) I hope this isn't too confusing for people, but I was having fun writing it.
(/ooc)
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