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Metropolis (Slaves to the City) - Chapter Two
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<blockquote data-quote="Phoenix" data-source="post: 2523740" data-attributes="member: 16166"><p>The heat was unbearable to most and without a cool breeze for relief; many sought the shelter of alehouses to whet their whistle during the hottest part of the day. The heat had not let up for a week and people were beginning to mention that the heat was unnatural, that some magic had conjured it to punish the city.</p><p></p><p>In the stained light of the hot afternoon an elderly man staggered through the streets of the city, seemingly crazed and confused about his surroundings. His mouth babbled sounds that was no language, his arms and legs often failed him, sending him tumbling into the dusty streets. If anyone chose to look, they would see the look of wonder in his eyes, the look of someone that had finally found his purpose in life.</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">******</p><p></p><p>Ru sweltered even in the shadows, this heat was unrelenting. He watched the smaller buildings that were shadowed by the mighty Illiuan Tower, his eyes searching for his target. This area of The Apartments* was a little out of Ru's field, but recently Ari had felt the need to bring a handful of new streets under his 'protection'.</p><p></p><p>His eyes eventually drifted to the ramshackle stone building that seemed to be mainly populated by dwarves and slowly shook his head. He couldn't believe what he was about to do, where he was about to go...there were just some things that Ari demanded that were just...wrong.</p><p></p><p>An old wooden sign dangled above the front door of the building and was the only thing that betrayed the place for what it was. The sign read '<em>The Throbbing Vein</em>' and had a picture of a dwarven miner holding his pick in a very suggestive manner.</p><p></p><p>There was something very wrong about a dwarven brothel...</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">******</p><p></p><p>Whenever he felt uncomfortable his hand always drifted to rest on the pommel of his blade, today was no different. Jackal's latest recruit was moving through the crowd between the massive towers of The Apartments*, searching for a target that would pay off.</p><p></p><p>There was little real Law in The Apartments, even in Metropolis as a whole, should the little Wasp get caught then justice would probably be swift and painful for him. Wasp was little more than eight years old when Jovik found him starving on the streets, but his fingers had proved nimble enough to excel in his chosen profession.</p><p></p><p>The child paused near an elderly man dressed in tattered clothes that perhaps were once quite expensive, then let his hands dance across the man's belt before moving away casually as if nothing was out of the ordinary.</p><p></p><p>Poetry in motion, Jovik new that this kid was a natural. He watched as the child moved back through the crowd towards Jovik's hidey hole on top of the Yilliap Alehouse. Wasp could not possible see what Jovik could see though, a yellow robed man had spotted the child and was slowly weaving through the crowd towards him. There was no way that Wasp could make the distance before being cut off, and he wouldn't be able to hear Jovik voice over the noise of the marketplace.</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">******</p><p></p><p>Nikolai's old bones creaked as he rose slowly from his favourite sitting chair amongst the clutter that was his Apartment. Living in The Apartments was not the safest area of Metropolis to live in, but the rent was cheap and the people than ran the protection rackets in the area were not too bad. He had everything he needed in his little shop below him, everything that mattered nowdays anyway.</p><p></p><p>A dingling noise down stairs warned Nikolai of a customer in his shop, either that of more people looking for money that he didn't have.</p><p></p><p>"It's a human, doesn't look like a ganger either." Quoth peered through the cracks in the floor, cheking in on the man that walked below them. "There's something different about him though y'know? Smells kinda like a paying customer."</p><p></p><p>The trip down the stars was not a painful one, but one that Nikolai often opted to take slowly, his bones were not as strong as they once were.</p><p></p><p>Standing before a small carving of an elven poet, a large man standing over six feet tall carefully rolls a second statuette about in his hands, slowly studying it. He turns at the sound of the stairs creeking and smiles as Nikolai finally makes it into the shop and behind the counter.</p><p></p><p>"Good Morning Mr Garrick. My name is Professor Thialon of the Society for Knowledge, I've come to ask for you help good sir..."</p><p></p><p>[sblock]*Taken from Collen's Guide to the Bards of Metropolis (entry named The Ghost Hound): </p><p>He was born in The Apartments, 7 tall stone spires with hundreds of floors and a maze of rooms, corridors and staircases. All interconnected by bridges, tunnels and magical portals. All of the races of Metropolis have legends regarding the creation of The Apartments and no two of those legends is the same. The only thing that is common in the legends is the fact that somewhere in the vertical labyrinth something is hidden. Whether that something is benevolent or malign is unknown but every race has representatives searching for whatever it is. The Apartments are a constant skirmish, a war of attrition. Sure, a race may hold a particular series of rooms or even a floor or two for anywhere from weeks to months. In fact the Killi-kelli-hek, a barbaric, flesh-eating breed of dwarf, have inhabited the same three floors in one of the towers for the last 73 years. Recently the Killi-kelli-hek have become agitated and expansionist. Where as before they would hunt in small groups for meats and goods they are now moving through The Apartments in greater numbers. Hound believes that someone is using the Killi-kelli-hek to further their own ends, there is no other logical reason why they would all of a sudden become more aggressive - is there? </p><p>[/sblock]</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Phoenix, post: 2523740, member: 16166"] The heat was unbearable to most and without a cool breeze for relief; many sought the shelter of alehouses to whet their whistle during the hottest part of the day. The heat had not let up for a week and people were beginning to mention that the heat was unnatural, that some magic had conjured it to punish the city. In the stained light of the hot afternoon an elderly man staggered through the streets of the city, seemingly crazed and confused about his surroundings. His mouth babbled sounds that was no language, his arms and legs often failed him, sending him tumbling into the dusty streets. If anyone chose to look, they would see the look of wonder in his eyes, the look of someone that had finally found his purpose in life. [CENTER]******[/CENTER] Ru sweltered even in the shadows, this heat was unrelenting. He watched the smaller buildings that were shadowed by the mighty Illiuan Tower, his eyes searching for his target. This area of The Apartments* was a little out of Ru's field, but recently Ari had felt the need to bring a handful of new streets under his 'protection'. His eyes eventually drifted to the ramshackle stone building that seemed to be mainly populated by dwarves and slowly shook his head. He couldn't believe what he was about to do, where he was about to go...there were just some things that Ari demanded that were just...wrong. An old wooden sign dangled above the front door of the building and was the only thing that betrayed the place for what it was. The sign read '[I]The Throbbing Vein[/I]' and had a picture of a dwarven miner holding his pick in a very suggestive manner. There was something very wrong about a dwarven brothel... [CENTER]******[/CENTER] Whenever he felt uncomfortable his hand always drifted to rest on the pommel of his blade, today was no different. Jackal's latest recruit was moving through the crowd between the massive towers of The Apartments*, searching for a target that would pay off. There was little real Law in The Apartments, even in Metropolis as a whole, should the little Wasp get caught then justice would probably be swift and painful for him. Wasp was little more than eight years old when Jovik found him starving on the streets, but his fingers had proved nimble enough to excel in his chosen profession. The child paused near an elderly man dressed in tattered clothes that perhaps were once quite expensive, then let his hands dance across the man's belt before moving away casually as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Poetry in motion, Jovik new that this kid was a natural. He watched as the child moved back through the crowd towards Jovik's hidey hole on top of the Yilliap Alehouse. Wasp could not possible see what Jovik could see though, a yellow robed man had spotted the child and was slowly weaving through the crowd towards him. There was no way that Wasp could make the distance before being cut off, and he wouldn't be able to hear Jovik voice over the noise of the marketplace. [CENTER]******[/CENTER] Nikolai's old bones creaked as he rose slowly from his favourite sitting chair amongst the clutter that was his Apartment. Living in The Apartments was not the safest area of Metropolis to live in, but the rent was cheap and the people than ran the protection rackets in the area were not too bad. He had everything he needed in his little shop below him, everything that mattered nowdays anyway. A dingling noise down stairs warned Nikolai of a customer in his shop, either that of more people looking for money that he didn't have. "It's a human, doesn't look like a ganger either." Quoth peered through the cracks in the floor, cheking in on the man that walked below them. "There's something different about him though y'know? Smells kinda like a paying customer." The trip down the stars was not a painful one, but one that Nikolai often opted to take slowly, his bones were not as strong as they once were. Standing before a small carving of an elven poet, a large man standing over six feet tall carefully rolls a second statuette about in his hands, slowly studying it. He turns at the sound of the stairs creeking and smiles as Nikolai finally makes it into the shop and behind the counter. "Good Morning Mr Garrick. My name is Professor Thialon of the Society for Knowledge, I've come to ask for you help good sir..." [sblock]*Taken from Collen's Guide to the Bards of Metropolis (entry named The Ghost Hound): He was born in The Apartments, 7 tall stone spires with hundreds of floors and a maze of rooms, corridors and staircases. All interconnected by bridges, tunnels and magical portals. All of the races of Metropolis have legends regarding the creation of The Apartments and no two of those legends is the same. The only thing that is common in the legends is the fact that somewhere in the vertical labyrinth something is hidden. Whether that something is benevolent or malign is unknown but every race has representatives searching for whatever it is. The Apartments are a constant skirmish, a war of attrition. Sure, a race may hold a particular series of rooms or even a floor or two for anywhere from weeks to months. In fact the Killi-kelli-hek, a barbaric, flesh-eating breed of dwarf, have inhabited the same three floors in one of the towers for the last 73 years. Recently the Killi-kelli-hek have become agitated and expansionist. Where as before they would hunt in small groups for meats and goods they are now moving through The Apartments in greater numbers. Hound believes that someone is using the Killi-kelli-hek to further their own ends, there is no other logical reason why they would all of a sudden become more aggressive - is there? [/sblock] [/QUOTE]
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