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[IC] THE CURSE OF AMBERSTAR
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<blockquote data-quote="Archon Basileus" data-source="post: 7170330" data-attributes="member: 6855545"><p>HARFIK</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>As far as the monk can see, this city bears the standing of a once great holding. Shaped in the likeness of old imperial capitals, it’s complex architecture now houses many of the miserable and forgotten souls that suffered after the star fell from the skies. What was once an august place of wealth and wisdom seems to have turned into a mere shelter for the survivors of a land long forgotten. Still, their suffering is not all that remains in sight. Among them, protected by a wealth of bodyguards, the rich and noble of Wellington parade, establishing the restricting lines of survival for those less fortunate. And so, as the high towers flourish over a valley of sorrows, servants and slaves, cast in the shadows, struggle to survive, often predating each other for a place in the sun. The layouts change, but the arenas are always present, pitching their slaves against each other for the benefit of their “protectors”.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>The men only allow enough to make Harfik comfortable. Otherwise, they try to tend to his needs, showing absolute indifference to his social status. In fact, they seem to be quite comfortable around Harfik, especially after he shows a hands-on approach to the tasks and errands of camp-setting. </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>“Well…” – Prosper continues – “…This place used to be quite alive back in the day. Gatherers, hunters, even settlers… My family did quite a lot of foraging ‘round these parts.” – he points towards the trail between the rocks. “There was this fountain down below, good place for fishing and this sort of thing. But a few years back it became murky, fetid, and things began… changing around. Animals turned more violent, plants began to grow odd shapes and colors, and people… Well, they grew sick, body and mind… More monster than man, people say.” – he lowers his eyes, a hint of concern upon his brow.</p><p></p><p>“From then on, disappearances became a regular sight. Sometimes bodies washed up ashore, or appeared in the clearings, up in the mountains. Half-eaten, bloodless… They themselves changed. People fear the Teraphim hunt in these parts, forgotten of their former tasks, made into cannibal vampires, maybe worse.”</p><p>The other two listen to him, shadows cast over their faces as the stories were told.</p><p></p><p>YTTRIAN</p><p></p><p>As Yttrian pulls out the maps, the younger guide opens a clean area in the back of the wagon, inviting the elf to use it. </p><p></p><p>“Here, sir… If… you will.” - the juvenile voice eludes Yttrian at first, but closeness and conversation soon denounce him. The ‘boy’s’ outlines reveal themselves as a bit too feminine, as well as ‘his’ voice, too thin for ‘his’ apparent age…</p><p></p><p>“I’m Port… Portis” – the disguised servant waves towards the map, wholeheartedly helping the elf in his intent. His – or her – eyes widen as the elf reveals his gear, and even though the servant tries to focus on the maps, the apron seems to drive Portis to the inevitable question, one that the servant, holding secrets of her – or his - own, would not dare to ask.</p><p></p><p>“You have figured most of it out, I take it” – Portis’ hands flow through the map, darting from one note to another. </p><p>“After the first slope, you’ll find a hunting post. People say it’s more like a village now, but it’s probably empty. From then on, moving forward leads to the White Hollows. Lots of craters to fall in, and lots of white fog as well. Can see nothing four steps from your nose, trust me.” – Portis continues, keeping a low head and thickening the voice as much as possible. </p><p></p><p>“To the other side… The lake.” – Yttrian quickly understands the reference, building a mental plane where all the maps fit together. He could guide the others easily, from now on. “And… this is as much as I know. You…” – Portis risks at last – “…you know quite a lot, to dig these maps and come with all this. How… Where did you learn it?” – the sentence falls flat, as if Portis wanted to go on, leaving intentions unattended for the time being.</p><p></p><p><em><span style="color: #FF0000">[Ok, I’m splitting this one in parts, so it does not become too big.]</span></em></p><p><em><span style="color: #FF0000"></span></em></p><p><em><span style="color: #FF0000"></span></em>@<em><strong><u><a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=23298" target="_blank">industrygothica</a></u></strong></em> @<em><strong><u><a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=6855102" target="_blank">Greenmtn</a></u></strong></em> @<em><strong><u><a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=8858" target="_blank">hafrogman</a></u></strong></em> @<em><strong><u><a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=5044" target="_blank">Charwoman Gene</a></u></strong></em> @<em><strong><u><a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=6776182" target="_blank">JustinCase</a> [MENTION=4936]Shayuri[/MENTION]</u></strong></em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Archon Basileus, post: 7170330, member: 6855545"] HARFIK As far as the monk can see, this city bears the standing of a once great holding. Shaped in the likeness of old imperial capitals, it’s complex architecture now houses many of the miserable and forgotten souls that suffered after the star fell from the skies. What was once an august place of wealth and wisdom seems to have turned into a mere shelter for the survivors of a land long forgotten. Still, their suffering is not all that remains in sight. Among them, protected by a wealth of bodyguards, the rich and noble of Wellington parade, establishing the restricting lines of survival for those less fortunate. And so, as the high towers flourish over a valley of sorrows, servants and slaves, cast in the shadows, struggle to survive, often predating each other for a place in the sun. The layouts change, but the arenas are always present, pitching their slaves against each other for the benefit of their “protectors”. The men only allow enough to make Harfik comfortable. Otherwise, they try to tend to his needs, showing absolute indifference to his social status. In fact, they seem to be quite comfortable around Harfik, especially after he shows a hands-on approach to the tasks and errands of camp-setting. “Well…” – Prosper continues – “…This place used to be quite alive back in the day. Gatherers, hunters, even settlers… My family did quite a lot of foraging ‘round these parts.” – he points towards the trail between the rocks. “There was this fountain down below, good place for fishing and this sort of thing. But a few years back it became murky, fetid, and things began… changing around. Animals turned more violent, plants began to grow odd shapes and colors, and people… Well, they grew sick, body and mind… More monster than man, people say.” – he lowers his eyes, a hint of concern upon his brow. “From then on, disappearances became a regular sight. Sometimes bodies washed up ashore, or appeared in the clearings, up in the mountains. Half-eaten, bloodless… They themselves changed. People fear the Teraphim hunt in these parts, forgotten of their former tasks, made into cannibal vampires, maybe worse.” The other two listen to him, shadows cast over their faces as the stories were told. YTTRIAN As Yttrian pulls out the maps, the younger guide opens a clean area in the back of the wagon, inviting the elf to use it. “Here, sir… If… you will.” - the juvenile voice eludes Yttrian at first, but closeness and conversation soon denounce him. The ‘boy’s’ outlines reveal themselves as a bit too feminine, as well as ‘his’ voice, too thin for ‘his’ apparent age… “I’m Port… Portis” – the disguised servant waves towards the map, wholeheartedly helping the elf in his intent. His – or her – eyes widen as the elf reveals his gear, and even though the servant tries to focus on the maps, the apron seems to drive Portis to the inevitable question, one that the servant, holding secrets of her – or his - own, would not dare to ask. “You have figured most of it out, I take it” – Portis’ hands flow through the map, darting from one note to another. “After the first slope, you’ll find a hunting post. People say it’s more like a village now, but it’s probably empty. From then on, moving forward leads to the White Hollows. Lots of craters to fall in, and lots of white fog as well. Can see nothing four steps from your nose, trust me.” – Portis continues, keeping a low head and thickening the voice as much as possible. “To the other side… The lake.” – Yttrian quickly understands the reference, building a mental plane where all the maps fit together. He could guide the others easily, from now on. “And… this is as much as I know. You…” – Portis risks at last – “…you know quite a lot, to dig these maps and come with all this. How… Where did you learn it?” – the sentence falls flat, as if Portis wanted to go on, leaving intentions unattended for the time being. [I][COLOR=#FF0000][Ok, I’m splitting this one in parts, so it does not become too big.] [/COLOR][/I]@[I][B][U][URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=23298"]industrygothica[/URL][/U][/B][/I] @[I][B][U][URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=6855102"]Greenmtn[/URL][/U][/B][/I] @[I][B][U][URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=8858"]hafrogman[/URL][/U][/B][/I] @[I][B][U][URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=5044"]Charwoman Gene[/URL][/U][/B][/I] @[I][B][U][URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=6776182"]JustinCase[/URL] [MENTION=4936]Shayuri[/MENTION][/U][/B][/I] [/QUOTE]
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