The Game of Kings
- Thread starter Ringmereth
- Start date
Deuce Traveler
Adventurer
"Hmmm... with these Blacksurf types possibly roaming the streets, it would probably be best if we found a safe place to stay, ourselves. At the same time, I certainly don't want to have to explain my comings and goings to an overzealous city watch. My name is Doral Easter, formerly of Cyre, and I've seen enough trouble to last me a lifetime. Any of you ladies or gentleman know of a safe place for us to hole up without being bothered," Doral asks politely, but throws a wink to the ladies. If one of the women suggests that he spend some money with them to stay the night, he will thank them politely, and promise to return once he gets his friends safely home. He will then ask where they may be found tonight, since a brothel might be an ironic, but logical place to hide since the madame there will be used to keeping secrets about her clients.
Then Doral will start moving back from the direction they came and say, "I hate to cut this short, Carver, but I'm thinking that our mission has been blown, unless there are others here claiming to be Blacksurf men. We need to get to Morika before the local guard does. She's helpless in her condition. What's worse, she's too honest. We need to carry her and her gear out of the tavern and head out to meet that kobold and the rest."
Doral's mind races as he hurries back towards their tavern. The mission has been blown, and it was time to get out of Port Verge with their hides intact. For a moment, he fingered his dagger and considered that he might have to cut Morika's throat in order to save her from being captured, tortured for information, and made an example. The thought disgusted him, but he was ready in case she was immobile. And what of my employer? He is the one that asked us to come disguised as Blacksurf agents. Were we a distraction? Pawns to be sacrificed as he moved towards a greater target? A feral beastwoman, an ignorant warforged, a delicate female spellcaster, a kobold with a god-complex, an archer who prefers conflict... and me, a known failure. If the polite, goodly Parlinor has a darker past, then this group makes sense. We were bound to be noticed upon entry to Port Verge. Can it be that we are meant to fail? Or am I finally becoming paranoid beyond usefulness? Doral tightens his jaw around such angry thoughts, and begins to think of a plan.
Then Doral will start moving back from the direction they came and say, "I hate to cut this short, Carver, but I'm thinking that our mission has been blown, unless there are others here claiming to be Blacksurf men. We need to get to Morika before the local guard does. She's helpless in her condition. What's worse, she's too honest. We need to carry her and her gear out of the tavern and head out to meet that kobold and the rest."
Doral's mind races as he hurries back towards their tavern. The mission has been blown, and it was time to get out of Port Verge with their hides intact. For a moment, he fingered his dagger and considered that he might have to cut Morika's throat in order to save her from being captured, tortured for information, and made an example. The thought disgusted him, but he was ready in case she was immobile. And what of my employer? He is the one that asked us to come disguised as Blacksurf agents. Were we a distraction? Pawns to be sacrificed as he moved towards a greater target? A feral beastwoman, an ignorant warforged, a delicate female spellcaster, a kobold with a god-complex, an archer who prefers conflict... and me, a known failure. If the polite, goodly Parlinor has a darker past, then this group makes sense. We were bound to be noticed upon entry to Port Verge. Can it be that we are meant to fail? Or am I finally becoming paranoid beyond usefulness? Doral tightens his jaw around such angry thoughts, and begins to think of a plan.
MadMaxim
First Post
Middle Docks District, Port Verge (evening) – Doral, Partash, Carver
Partash looks at the women with an expression of pity on his face. He obviously feels sorry for them. He takes off his gray cloak and wraps around the first woman that came up to him. "May the Host give you strength, my child..." He says softly.
After Doral voices his concerns for everyone's safety, he quickly adds: "In case we get separated, we should still be able to communicate." He grabs Doral's shoulder and concentrates for a moment, manifesting his inborn psychic power.
Don't get upset, Doral. This is the way it's supposed to work. Now we're able to communicate telepathically for a short while, so we'll be able to co-ordinate our efforts better.
OOC: Partash manifests his mindlink psionic power on Doral and it lasts for 20 minutes.
Partash looks at the women with an expression of pity on his face. He obviously feels sorry for them. He takes off his gray cloak and wraps around the first woman that came up to him. "May the Host give you strength, my child..." He says softly.
After Doral voices his concerns for everyone's safety, he quickly adds: "In case we get separated, we should still be able to communicate." He grabs Doral's shoulder and concentrates for a moment, manifesting his inborn psychic power.
Don't get upset, Doral. This is the way it's supposed to work. Now we're able to communicate telepathically for a short while, so we'll be able to co-ordinate our efforts better.
OOC: Partash manifests his mindlink psionic power on Doral and it lasts for 20 minutes.
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stonegod
Spawn of Khyber/LEB Judge
Sail and Scepter, Port Verge (evening) – Vhir, Glasia, and Dragen
The kobold says nothing as the dwarf delivers his message, instead gazing intently at the dwarf. It remains passive the entire time. It does turn to the girl and whispers, "Get the archer." Making sure Glasia is out of the room, it asks one question of the leaving dwarf.
"And do you think you were followed, then?"
You better give the answer I want, dwarf. You do not realize what hangs in the balance.
OOC: Sense Motive on the dwarf's speech. Sorry for the delay; saw Jackalope's posting and not Ringmereth's.
The kobold says nothing as the dwarf delivers his message, instead gazing intently at the dwarf. It remains passive the entire time. It does turn to the girl and whispers, "Get the archer." Making sure Glasia is out of the room, it asks one question of the leaving dwarf.
"And do you think you were followed, then?"
You better give the answer I want, dwarf. You do not realize what hangs in the balance.
OOC: Sense Motive on the dwarf's speech. Sorry for the delay; saw Jackalope's posting and not Ringmereth's.
Morika remained in her alcohol-induced stupor, her mind containing probably valuable information... if she could just find the will to get up. But she had abused herself enough and her body was booking no arguement in her sleeping for the next ten hours or so. Bad enough that she had no time to tire herself out before bed, worse that the drink had loosed some of her worst memories. Now her mind replayed them, or parts of them, strung together in no particular order, to her sorrow and dismay.
"-Yer not gonna take food from hard-working soldiers of the Brelish crown now, are ye shifter? Nay, I didn't think so. Hold her down boys! I need to give her some stripes to remind her t' mind her manners!" Course laughter, bruising strength crushing all her limbs, and flashes of fire on her back...
"Watch this place here, Morika," her mother whispered. After a long wait, a rabbit came jumping down the path, to the delight of the young shifter girl. Her mother said this rabbit was her very own, and if she came to its run, she could see it if she was patient enough. Morika watched the rabbit with rapt fascination, tickled at its big ears and fluffy paws. Then there was a rustling, a leap and growl, and the rabbit vanished in a flurry of wolf jaws and splashes of blood...
The top peaks were where the shifter woman was most at home, climbing the steep rock faces, leaping from face to face, at one with the sky and clouds. A hail of rock, a sharp pain from behind, then agony from her broken leg...
"You damned animal! Look what you did, you stupid disgusting feral beast!" he yelled at her, screaming at her in front of the others, shaming her and putting her in her place as surely as any alpha male did to any unruly female...
"-Yer not gonna take food from hard-working soldiers of the Brelish crown now, are ye shifter? Nay, I didn't think so. Hold her down boys! I need to give her some stripes to remind her t' mind her manners!" Course laughter, bruising strength crushing all her limbs, and flashes of fire on her back...
"Watch this place here, Morika," her mother whispered. After a long wait, a rabbit came jumping down the path, to the delight of the young shifter girl. Her mother said this rabbit was her very own, and if she came to its run, she could see it if she was patient enough. Morika watched the rabbit with rapt fascination, tickled at its big ears and fluffy paws. Then there was a rustling, a leap and growl, and the rabbit vanished in a flurry of wolf jaws and splashes of blood...
The top peaks were where the shifter woman was most at home, climbing the steep rock faces, leaping from face to face, at one with the sky and clouds. A hail of rock, a sharp pain from behind, then agony from her broken leg...
"You damned animal! Look what you did, you stupid disgusting feral beast!" he yelled at her, screaming at her in front of the others, shaming her and putting her in her place as surely as any alpha male did to any unruly female...
Bobitron
Explorer
stonegod said:
Glasia's eyes are wide with suprise and curiousity, but she doesn't question the kobold. She reaches out and grabs her pack, quickly moving to find Dragen.
Upon finding the archer, she clears her throat and interrupts his drinking (ooc: I assume
)."There's action. The kobold's meeting with a dwarf. He wants you along if you can spare the time."
Not waiting for a response, she turns and heads back to Vhir.
stonegod
Spawn of Khyber/LEB Judge
OOC: Last I checked, he was trying to eat some cabbage and stay out of trouble.Bobitron said:Upon finding the archer, she clears her throat and interrupts his drinking (ooc: I assume
James Heard
Explorer
Dragen raises his eyebrow at the curt response and laughs silently. Then, deciding that the young girl isn't worth waiting on, goes back to eating his cabbage and crunching on his bread.
He shrugged.
I suppose if it were important then someone would wait to see if I cared to go. Oh well. Good soup though, too bad the company is so sketchy. I wonder what the shifter girl is up to? Perhaps I shall check in the morning.
Dragen prepared for bed, keeping the oiled rags of his bow close at hand.
Kobold is going to get everyone else killed.
Dragen shook his head.
He shrugged.
I suppose if it were important then someone would wait to see if I cared to go. Oh well. Good soup though, too bad the company is so sketchy. I wonder what the shifter girl is up to? Perhaps I shall check in the morning.
Dragen prepared for bed, keeping the oiled rags of his bow close at hand.
Kobold is going to get everyone else killed.
Dragen shook his head.
Dark_Jackalope
First Post
Suite in the Sail and Scepter Inn, Port Verge (nighttime) - Vhir, Glasia, Dragen
The dwarf turned in place an arm's length away from the door. "Followed?" he asked, furrowing his brow in concerned thought. "I..." he blinked, "no, I saw no one." His voice carried worry, but Vhir judged it to be honest. "Good luck to you," he added, tugging the door wide and stepping into the hallway. The door clicked shut behind him. Vhir and Glasia were again alone in the common room, and first noticed the soft and steady rhythm of raindrops on the roof and balcony. Night was upon Port Verge, and a cold rain had followed it.
Middle Docks District to Argotch Inn, Port Verge (nighttime) – Doral, Partash, Carver
The two women seem disappointed that their new acquaintances are hurrying off so soon, but happily tell Doral where he can find them later that night, if he changes his mind.
After that, the trio hurried quickly through the streets, retracing their steps towards the wealthier end of town. It surprises them how far they’d wandered, and as they rush along, the first drops of rain begin to fall coldly on their skin. The night sets in fully, and their heavy breath is visible before them as they hurry through the damp. It seems an uncomfortably long while until they reach the cross street leading down waterfront, and the Argotch Inn.
Rounding the last bend onto the waterfront street, they slow down at the reassuring sight of lamplight flowing out the smudged windows of the inn. Though it’s hard to make out through the warped and dirty glass, it looks like a party of travelers has arrived late looking for a place to sleep, and are crowded around the goblin’s desk.
Upon opening the door, however, it became suddenly apparent this was not correct. The flick of the lights from the cold sea wind sucking into the room cast the three men is shadowy contrast. Or rather, two men and one oversized, meaty hulk that looked like some very distant kin of the nervous-looking Argotch.
The bugbear was the first to turn, staring at the three figures in the doorway. Instead of carrying the usual traveler’s accouterments, he was decked in sturdy studded armor, and had an assortment objects attached to his belt, including a shortsword and two fighting daggers. But the largest tip-off that he was no common traveler was the handsome longsword strapped to his back.
He uttered a low cross between a grumble and a growl, as the other two abandoned their conversation with the goblin. “Thank yeh, but it looks like we’ve found ‘em any-how…” said the shortest, a bold-looking woman, with fly-away brown hair tied back in a simple pony-tail. She crossed her hand over to the hilt of her scimitar as she was turning, slipping her other arm, strapped with a buckler, out of her cloak as well. The red cloth, a faded velvet, swirled enough to reveal a polished chain shirt.
The third companion, a silent and calm man whose tan face and pale-blond hair gave away little of his age, fingered at the shark-tooth on the cord at his neck, much like the one each of them was wearing, before wriggling his shoulders to be sure his breastplate was in place and gripping his trident with both hands.
There was a split second in which they all stood facing one another, eyes meeting across the short distance. The only sound was the slow and deliberate slicing sound of the bugbear smoothly drawing his longsword over his shoulder, and Argotch ducking behind his desk with a rustle. Then the moment was broken, as Doral swirled into movement.
OOC: Doral shall move first, with Carver going before Partash.
[sblock="Combat Information"]Each round, we'll provide an updated status report of all characters involved in combat for your and our convience, including any effects on your character.
Doral Kinsman
20 HP
AC 17
AP 7
Mindlinked
Carver Banderelli
33 HP
AC 20 (Flat-footed)
AP 7
Partash
22 HP
AC 15 (Flat-footed)
AP 7
Mindlinked[/sblock]
The dwarf turned in place an arm's length away from the door. "Followed?" he asked, furrowing his brow in concerned thought. "I..." he blinked, "no, I saw no one." His voice carried worry, but Vhir judged it to be honest. "Good luck to you," he added, tugging the door wide and stepping into the hallway. The door clicked shut behind him. Vhir and Glasia were again alone in the common room, and first noticed the soft and steady rhythm of raindrops on the roof and balcony. Night was upon Port Verge, and a cold rain had followed it.
Middle Docks District to Argotch Inn, Port Verge (nighttime) – Doral, Partash, Carver
The two women seem disappointed that their new acquaintances are hurrying off so soon, but happily tell Doral where he can find them later that night, if he changes his mind.
After that, the trio hurried quickly through the streets, retracing their steps towards the wealthier end of town. It surprises them how far they’d wandered, and as they rush along, the first drops of rain begin to fall coldly on their skin. The night sets in fully, and their heavy breath is visible before them as they hurry through the damp. It seems an uncomfortably long while until they reach the cross street leading down waterfront, and the Argotch Inn.
Rounding the last bend onto the waterfront street, they slow down at the reassuring sight of lamplight flowing out the smudged windows of the inn. Though it’s hard to make out through the warped and dirty glass, it looks like a party of travelers has arrived late looking for a place to sleep, and are crowded around the goblin’s desk.
Upon opening the door, however, it became suddenly apparent this was not correct. The flick of the lights from the cold sea wind sucking into the room cast the three men is shadowy contrast. Or rather, two men and one oversized, meaty hulk that looked like some very distant kin of the nervous-looking Argotch.
The bugbear was the first to turn, staring at the three figures in the doorway. Instead of carrying the usual traveler’s accouterments, he was decked in sturdy studded armor, and had an assortment objects attached to his belt, including a shortsword and two fighting daggers. But the largest tip-off that he was no common traveler was the handsome longsword strapped to his back.
He uttered a low cross between a grumble and a growl, as the other two abandoned their conversation with the goblin. “Thank yeh, but it looks like we’ve found ‘em any-how…” said the shortest, a bold-looking woman, with fly-away brown hair tied back in a simple pony-tail. She crossed her hand over to the hilt of her scimitar as she was turning, slipping her other arm, strapped with a buckler, out of her cloak as well. The red cloth, a faded velvet, swirled enough to reveal a polished chain shirt.
The third companion, a silent and calm man whose tan face and pale-blond hair gave away little of his age, fingered at the shark-tooth on the cord at his neck, much like the one each of them was wearing, before wriggling his shoulders to be sure his breastplate was in place and gripping his trident with both hands.
There was a split second in which they all stood facing one another, eyes meeting across the short distance. The only sound was the slow and deliberate slicing sound of the bugbear smoothly drawing his longsword over his shoulder, and Argotch ducking behind his desk with a rustle. Then the moment was broken, as Doral swirled into movement.
OOC: Doral shall move first, with Carver going before Partash.
[sblock="Combat Information"]Each round, we'll provide an updated status report of all characters involved in combat for your and our convience, including any effects on your character.
Doral Kinsman
20 HP
AC 17
AP 7
Mindlinked
Carver Banderelli
33 HP
AC 20 (Flat-footed)
AP 7
Partash
22 HP
AC 15 (Flat-footed)
AP 7
Mindlinked[/sblock]
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