Shadowfane
First Post
Dark looked at the battered sign announcing the Ragpicker's Court; something clicked in his mind, and a ripple seemed to run through the shadows that clung insidiously to the sewer's walls...
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NOW LIVE! Into the Woods--new character species, eerie monsters, and haunting villains to populate the woodlands of your D&D games.
[Iron Kingdoms] The Age of Rust.
- Thread starter Dirigible
- Start date
DJ_Colossus
Explorer
Kneecap
"Ragpickers *court*? Whoo, dont mind me if I chuckle to myself here. Funny that even down here, in the stink and the filth, that the miscreant and dregs that inhabit this sludge can conceive of a *court*. Oh, wait... I just had a scary thought. What do you suppose the Jester is in a Ragpicker's court? ech..."
Kneecap extends his nostrils taking in a whiff of smell.
"It smells worse in there. Eyvind, you go first."
The gobber grins at the large Kossite.
"Ragpickers *court*? Whoo, dont mind me if I chuckle to myself here. Funny that even down here, in the stink and the filth, that the miscreant and dregs that inhabit this sludge can conceive of a *court*. Oh, wait... I just had a scary thought. What do you suppose the Jester is in a Ragpicker's court? ech..."
Kneecap extends his nostrils taking in a whiff of smell.
"It smells worse in there. Eyvind, you go first."
The gobber grins at the large Kossite.
linnorm
Explorer
Eyvind
Eyvind
*Eyvind frowns at Kneecap as he steps past into the "court". He keeps a firm grip on his short sword, but lowers the point towards the floor to appear less threatening.*
"Ja, so heer vee are. Vich vay ist next?"
*Eyvind watches for any hostile action while the map is consulted.*
Eyvind
*Eyvind frowns at Kneecap as he steps past into the "court". He keeps a firm grip on his short sword, but lowers the point towards the floor to appear less threatening.*
"Ja, so heer vee are. Vich vay ist next?"
*Eyvind watches for any hostile action while the map is consulted.*
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KaintheSeeker
Explorer
"Oh I don't know.. somewhere less likely to start seepin though me boots maybe? where did that ole gristle bag say we should go?" Tyra say in an irratated tone.
Dirigible
Explorer
All:
Low and vaguely dome-like, the broad chamber ahead of you stretches into candle- and stench gas-lit darkness, the gas fires casting a dim, blue-grey light. Here and there, lengths of rusty iron or stained brass chain hang from the ceiling, supporting rooves or fitted with swinging, unlit metal censers of some kind. Dozens of filthy hovels and rude shelters cluster together, the stink and texture of the air indicating that folks don't go far to visit the latrines. Some of the buildings are loose, crumbling hovels made of piled rock, others are empty wooden crates stolen from the docks above that now house scrabbling families, others are reeking tents built on top of rag heaps.
The people are, universally, repellant. A man in front of you, clutching a tin bucket full of rancid scraps staggers past, his nose eaten away by syphillis sores and gives you a fearful look. A filth encrusted old codger with scarred sockets where his eyes should be reaches out and paws at the Kossite's boots- "Please, master... where is my family! I can't find them!" An old woman, hunched over and hacking with a tubercular cough is missing one of her legs. More, mostly clad in muddy rag and patches, all fearful and beaten down shamble through the shadowy eaves of the buildings.
The awful reek is overpowering, make eyes water and throats gag. The press of human bodies, toxic run offs from the factories and used water combine to assault your senses. Rotten flesh and food, rubbish and efluvia swirl around your ankles, tainting the leather and crusting the cloth. Bloated blackflies swarm you, their furry bodies rich with maggots looking to colonize your bodies, scuttling over your skin and eyes.
A big, burly man, perhaps the healthiest looking one in sight (though that is hardly a difficult feat) stands near the door to a large stone hovel, under a sign depicting a stylised figure on a golden throne with hands raised in regal benediction to the figures kneeling before him. The man is drumming a slow beat on a keg top with his palm.
A scrawny boy stands not too far off, watching you with wide, dull eyes. He's wrapped in dirty woollen scarves and is holding something under a fold of his clothing.
A big, scungy rat crawls over Dark's boots.
Low and vaguely dome-like, the broad chamber ahead of you stretches into candle- and stench gas-lit darkness, the gas fires casting a dim, blue-grey light. Here and there, lengths of rusty iron or stained brass chain hang from the ceiling, supporting rooves or fitted with swinging, unlit metal censers of some kind. Dozens of filthy hovels and rude shelters cluster together, the stink and texture of the air indicating that folks don't go far to visit the latrines. Some of the buildings are loose, crumbling hovels made of piled rock, others are empty wooden crates stolen from the docks above that now house scrabbling families, others are reeking tents built on top of rag heaps.
The people are, universally, repellant. A man in front of you, clutching a tin bucket full of rancid scraps staggers past, his nose eaten away by syphillis sores and gives you a fearful look. A filth encrusted old codger with scarred sockets where his eyes should be reaches out and paws at the Kossite's boots- "Please, master... where is my family! I can't find them!" An old woman, hunched over and hacking with a tubercular cough is missing one of her legs. More, mostly clad in muddy rag and patches, all fearful and beaten down shamble through the shadowy eaves of the buildings.
The awful reek is overpowering, make eyes water and throats gag. The press of human bodies, toxic run offs from the factories and used water combine to assault your senses. Rotten flesh and food, rubbish and efluvia swirl around your ankles, tainting the leather and crusting the cloth. Bloated blackflies swarm you, their furry bodies rich with maggots looking to colonize your bodies, scuttling over your skin and eyes.
A big, burly man, perhaps the healthiest looking one in sight (though that is hardly a difficult feat) stands near the door to a large stone hovel, under a sign depicting a stylised figure on a golden throne with hands raised in regal benediction to the figures kneeling before him. The man is drumming a slow beat on a keg top with his palm.
A scrawny boy stands not too far off, watching you with wide, dull eyes. He's wrapped in dirty woollen scarves and is holding something under a fold of his clothing.
A big, scungy rat crawls over Dark's boots.
Shadowfane
First Post
Dark knocks the rat off his boot with his iron-shod staff. Looking around the cesspool of human wreckage, Dark felt sympathy with the poor, broken, denizens of this dreadful place: for his soul was as ravaged as their physical forms. Shrugging off the black miasmic cloud that threatened to engulf him, the lanky sorcerer waded through the filth towards the man and boy beneath the golden sign.
“We seek audience with the King of Rags…tell him it is Dark without!”
[OoC: Intimidate +8. His intention (well sub-consciously ;-) ) is to ‘impress’ upon the large man that he should take his message to the king of Ragpicker’s Court. /OoC]
“We seek audience with the King of Rags…tell him it is Dark without!”
[OoC: Intimidate +8. His intention (well sub-consciously ;-) ) is to ‘impress’ upon the large man that he should take his message to the king of Ragpicker’s Court. /OoC]
KaintheSeeker
Explorer
"A what?" Tyra says irritably. "Sometime yer harde ta understand than a half drunk gobber."
DJ_Colossus
Explorer
kneecap
Kneecap keeps a suspicious eye on the youth peering at them from afar. It takes a thief to recognize a thief. Kneecap wraps his hands around his knee-bashing cudgel, prepared for anything that may jump at them.
"I agree with the Kossite. Let's finish our business here and get out while we still have our bits about us. I'd make for a lousy rogue if I lost me fingers."
Kneecap keeps a suspicious eye on the youth peering at them from afar. It takes a thief to recognize a thief. Kneecap wraps his hands around his knee-bashing cudgel, prepared for anything that may jump at them.
"I agree with the Kossite. Let's finish our business here and get out while we still have our bits about us. I'd make for a lousy rogue if I lost me fingers."
linnorm
Explorer
Eyvind
Eyvind
*Eyvind turns toward Tyra and frowns.*
"Ist veikur." Eyvind's brow furrows in thought. "Ist nei goot, need cleening, but more. Badnez ist in dert, in rock. Ist vas blaak oogrun doo ta land dey use." Eyvind looks around the 'court' again. "Eg doont tink deyr heer doe."
Eyvind
*Eyvind turns toward Tyra and frowns.*
"Ist veikur." Eyvind's brow furrows in thought. "Ist nei goot, need cleening, but more. Badnez ist in dert, in rock. Ist vas blaak oogrun doo ta land dey use." Eyvind looks around the 'court' again. "Eg doont tink deyr heer doe."
