Terra Incognita, including Sabata
On the surface, the yahren 1224 marked little change for the native peoples of Terra Incognita, the People of the Sands. Certainly they were untouched by the war that affected most of the rest of Tazlure. Their nomadic lives simply went on, evading the wrath of the dragons, harvesting spices and struggling to survive in the harsh climate of the desert, as they had done since time immemorial.
Only a few knew of the troubles that had befallen the People and that threatened to destroy them entirely. There had always been a water dragon in the great cisterns below the Hidden City of Tents, tended to by the Blue and Black Tribes. This dragon used its natural powers to counteract the effect of the terrible Curse that had been laid upon the land in antiquity. But in 1224 the young dragon, for whatever reason, decided to leave its ancient home and venture out into the desert. Without its presence in the cisterns, there was nothing to counteract the Curse, and its effects began to increase, with djinn increasing in power, the weather becoming even more hostile and rifts in the fabric of space-time becoming prevalent.
Few too heard of the efforts of a few heroes far to the east of Terra Incognita, below Dragonskeep, where the People renewed their pact with the Westerners in order to prevent the malevolent dragon spirit of Draz-Olgraith from breaking free of its prison. Had this happened, the whole of the West Terra continent would have been endangered.
Other dragons had also tired of the peace. The red dragon clan of the Howling Ice Mountains, led by Ragderdon, were fed up of the meddling of the humans of the Western Kingdom and hatched plots to destroy them. Fortunately for the West, Ragderdon was slain by Prince Balthasar on his quest for the Crystal of Harmony. With his death, his cousin, the less aggressive red dragon Ilage, took over leadership of the clan, and unified efforts to attack the human nations ceased.
The bustling independent city of Sabata enjoyed a prosperous period. The foundation of the Eastern Sands Trading Company and its mercantile activities brought immense wealth to the city, and also much corruption. 1st Councilor Ramessu consolidated his hold on the city. At the end of Samheen a new member was voted onto the City Council, 7th Councilor Di Zio, a man who was not even a permanent inhabitant of the city, spending several months of each yahren living in World's Mouth. This appointment caused some grief among the Imperial faction and those closer to the native People of the Sands, as they felt that Sabata was becoming little more than a colony of the wealthy Mouth. Meanwhile, the inexplicable targeting of Amunic trade by criminals continued apace.
The end of the War of the One brought a sudden influx of mercenaries to Sabata, attracted by rumours of the area's wealth and lawlessness. Many were hired by the Eastern Sands Trading Company as caravan guards, and others joined Ramessu's city "police force" under Boss Harkhebi, but a good number simply turned to banditry, preying on nearby People tribes, and even on trade caravans if they were in sufficient number and feeling adventurous.
On the 12th of Chril 1225, rumours trickled down of the sudden death of the softly spoken 2nd Councilor Kare Ana. Since the Achadhiel had been in excellent health and in a prominent position, this naturally aroused much suspicion, but no party claimed responsibility for the deed. All councilors except Ramessu moved up one place in the hierarchy, leaving the seventh council seat vacant once more.
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(OOC: Please post your recess write-up here. Details of the recess and Super Sync in general, as well as worldwide developments, can be found here. If you have any questions, please get in touch via PM!)
TI and Sabata Recess Summary (please post write-ups here)
Moderator: Mods
TI and Sabata Recess Summary (please post write-ups here)
[size=84][i]"She told me I had too much to dream last night..."[/i] - [i]Apprentice of the Universe[/i], Pure Reason Revolution
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
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Jack Farrell
- Civus
- Posts: 296
- Joined: Sun May 22, 2005 1:05 pm
- Location: Citadel
- Contact:
After the doomed flight of the Scillus, Jack found himself without a rudder in the world. The princely gift of Lazare conveyed more wealth on Jack than he had ever possessed in his life. Jack turned to one of the only contacts he had, the merchant Badar. Knowing that his charge needed to deliver word of the Scillus to the authorities, Badar let jack leave on the first available caravan to Dragon Keep. The journey through the desert was plagued by storms and bandit attacks and it took several weeks to cross the wastelands. However, by the 4th of Yulember, Jack arrived and reported the loss of the Scillus. His part in the bargain upheld, Jack was once again a free man.
In Dragon Keep he found himself torn between his desire to return to the desert and the overwhelming urge he had to venture westwards to the Mouth. Seeking some guidance he looked for another airship he could serve on, yet even on when one of the great vessels graced the horizon it seemed that not every pilot was as open and welcoming as Rezon had been. Perhaps they regarded Jack in the same light as that Cursed Scillus, he would never know but still Jack found himself grounded. Listless, he returned to Sabata and to Badar. He soon found himself unsure of his path in life. He had money, the sale of the Scillus’s cargo and equipment had ensured a tidy sum even after Lazare had taken his cut. Out of good faith he repaid Badar the sum value of his cargo lost aboard the Scillus but what to do with the remainder he did not know. He did not have enough to set him up in luxury for the rest of his life but still it would be worth investment. Badar once again took Jack under his wing. He offered to invest the sum in the blossoming trade of coffee. Since the Mouth had a colony now in the Isles, there was a new trade route. If Jack became an importer of coffee he could easily capitalise on this opportunity. And so Jack lived for a while under the tutelage of Badar, learning his letters and his numbers from the experienced merchant. Jack never truly took to the lessons and yearned for a more active role. Despairing of his young charge, Badar often let the young man blow his steam as a hired sword to the Caravans.
He managed to stay alive through several bandit attacks over the coming weeks, but he never really settled down. Each caravan was different, with different people and Jack always seemed an outsider even though his face was known to several of the mercenaries that hired with him. Jack became lost in the desert and always his mind wandered to thoughts of Amica and her struggle with Aeis, the dragon of wind.
Jack idled in Sabata at Badar’s estate. Often he found himself turning the spyglass over in his hands, his heart soaring where he himself could not. He grew discontent in the City by the Great Water. Surrounded by slaves he was constantly reminded of his own past and he envisioned a great future for himself, not watching his life trickle by as he guarded one fat merchant after another or worse still became one himself. He wondered what his ancestors would think if they saw him now, without direction or purpose. He wondered about the Condotierre, who's faded insignia still decorated the armour he wore, armour he was not worthy to wear. He fingered the insignia and dreamed of flight once more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Skills wise, I'd like to spend 5 points buying literacy and 5 points buying Math both to basic level.
In Dragon Keep he found himself torn between his desire to return to the desert and the overwhelming urge he had to venture westwards to the Mouth. Seeking some guidance he looked for another airship he could serve on, yet even on when one of the great vessels graced the horizon it seemed that not every pilot was as open and welcoming as Rezon had been. Perhaps they regarded Jack in the same light as that Cursed Scillus, he would never know but still Jack found himself grounded. Listless, he returned to Sabata and to Badar. He soon found himself unsure of his path in life. He had money, the sale of the Scillus’s cargo and equipment had ensured a tidy sum even after Lazare had taken his cut. Out of good faith he repaid Badar the sum value of his cargo lost aboard the Scillus but what to do with the remainder he did not know. He did not have enough to set him up in luxury for the rest of his life but still it would be worth investment. Badar once again took Jack under his wing. He offered to invest the sum in the blossoming trade of coffee. Since the Mouth had a colony now in the Isles, there was a new trade route. If Jack became an importer of coffee he could easily capitalise on this opportunity. And so Jack lived for a while under the tutelage of Badar, learning his letters and his numbers from the experienced merchant. Jack never truly took to the lessons and yearned for a more active role. Despairing of his young charge, Badar often let the young man blow his steam as a hired sword to the Caravans.
He managed to stay alive through several bandit attacks over the coming weeks, but he never really settled down. Each caravan was different, with different people and Jack always seemed an outsider even though his face was known to several of the mercenaries that hired with him. Jack became lost in the desert and always his mind wandered to thoughts of Amica and her struggle with Aeis, the dragon of wind.
Jack idled in Sabata at Badar’s estate. Often he found himself turning the spyglass over in his hands, his heart soaring where he himself could not. He grew discontent in the City by the Great Water. Surrounded by slaves he was constantly reminded of his own past and he envisioned a great future for himself, not watching his life trickle by as he guarded one fat merchant after another or worse still became one himself. He wondered what his ancestors would think if they saw him now, without direction or purpose. He wondered about the Condotierre, who's faded insignia still decorated the armour he wore, armour he was not worthy to wear. He fingered the insignia and dreamed of flight once more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Skills wise, I'd like to spend 5 points buying literacy and 5 points buying Math both to basic level.
Last edited by Jack Farrell on Fri Mar 16, 2007 10:27 pm, edited 1 time in total.
The war in Pan's Isle was, for Sweeney, an anticlimax. In the end, he didn't even get to be outraged at having been drafted into the Mouthies' army, since that army never fought a major battle, and peace was declared less than a week after his arrival in Aveas.
Which is not to say that the war did not leave its mark on the half-giant. He took part, to his lasting shame, in the abandonment of the Oneist and Royalist forces, leading to their slaughter. As much as Sweeney blamed the bigotry of the Oneists for his being sucked into the war in the first place, watching them being slain almost to a man gave him no satisfaction. And the death of the King was even harder to take. He'd always thought of himself as a loyal subject of Kingdom, and now he'd helped (through inaction) in its fracturing.
Sweeney returned to World's Mouth from his "victorious" campaign demoralized and depressed. Unable to come to terms with the treachery of he Merchant Council or his own complicity with that crime, the half-giant grew increasingly morose and self-destructive. He never even bothered to inquire about his mules or the other property that had been confiscated by the Purificatio, and he squandered whatever wages he'd earned for his soldiering on staying almost continuously drunk throughout the months of Yulember and Darkenry. During this time, he lived, if it could be called living, on the streets or in a cheap flophouse in the Seams. It was probably only his enormous size and the continued effectiveness of his fists that kept him alive until spring.
With the easing of winter in early Chyril, Sweeney began to pull himself together. He began to forgive himself, at least partially, for his small and unwilling role in the war and resolved to leave the city that had been the cause of so much misfortune for himself and others. The half-giant's past experience handling pack animals, coupled with his imposing figure, earned him a spot on a caravan into Terra Incognita. The desert crossing proved to be physically grueling but uneventful, and it afforded Sweeney ample time to be alone with his thoughts and to consider the events of the past yahren. While it would be going to far to say that he'd completely conquered his demons, he did reach a certain kind of peace with himself by the time the caravan reached the distant port of Sabata. With the desert between himself and his past, the half-giant had high hopes that he could begin a new life, and he pledged to himself that the next time he faced a crisis of conscience, he would stand up for his beliefs, regardless of consequences.
Recess stars:
Survival [Desert]: ***** (acquire at Basic)
Teamster: *** (advance to Apprentice)
Animal Handling: ** (Basic+**)
Which is not to say that the war did not leave its mark on the half-giant. He took part, to his lasting shame, in the abandonment of the Oneist and Royalist forces, leading to their slaughter. As much as Sweeney blamed the bigotry of the Oneists for his being sucked into the war in the first place, watching them being slain almost to a man gave him no satisfaction. And the death of the King was even harder to take. He'd always thought of himself as a loyal subject of Kingdom, and now he'd helped (through inaction) in its fracturing.
Sweeney returned to World's Mouth from his "victorious" campaign demoralized and depressed. Unable to come to terms with the treachery of he Merchant Council or his own complicity with that crime, the half-giant grew increasingly morose and self-destructive. He never even bothered to inquire about his mules or the other property that had been confiscated by the Purificatio, and he squandered whatever wages he'd earned for his soldiering on staying almost continuously drunk throughout the months of Yulember and Darkenry. During this time, he lived, if it could be called living, on the streets or in a cheap flophouse in the Seams. It was probably only his enormous size and the continued effectiveness of his fists that kept him alive until spring.
With the easing of winter in early Chyril, Sweeney began to pull himself together. He began to forgive himself, at least partially, for his small and unwilling role in the war and resolved to leave the city that had been the cause of so much misfortune for himself and others. The half-giant's past experience handling pack animals, coupled with his imposing figure, earned him a spot on a caravan into Terra Incognita. The desert crossing proved to be physically grueling but uneventful, and it afforded Sweeney ample time to be alone with his thoughts and to consider the events of the past yahren. While it would be going to far to say that he'd completely conquered his demons, he did reach a certain kind of peace with himself by the time the caravan reached the distant port of Sabata. With the desert between himself and his past, the half-giant had high hopes that he could begin a new life, and he pledged to himself that the next time he faced a crisis of conscience, he would stand up for his beliefs, regardless of consequences.
Recess stars:
Survival [Desert]: ***** (acquire at Basic)
Teamster: *** (advance to Apprentice)
Animal Handling: ** (Basic+**)
'Apeneck Sweeney spreads his knees / Letting his arms hang down to laugh
The zebra stripes along his jaw / Swelling to maculate giraffe.'
--T.S. Eliot
Avatar by Obey Giant
The zebra stripes along his jaw / Swelling to maculate giraffe.'
--T.S. Eliot
Avatar by Obey Giant
Well Langredoc did run away to a country less hot. Smart ? Probably not. 
The write-up is here
http://www.tazlure.nl/board/viewtopic.php?p=187134#187134
Well maybe the forces that govern tazlure move him back one day.....
Thanks Morgan Scrylock,Talanwei Fortisse, H'saan Alai and Dakyna.
The write-up is here
http://www.tazlure.nl/board/viewtopic.php?p=187134#187134
Well maybe the forces that govern tazlure move him back one day.....
Thanks Morgan Scrylock,Talanwei Fortisse, H'saan Alai and Dakyna.
[quote]I am the warrior of the raven, traveling from war to war feeding on the dead and the living alike. Until darkness fall's.[/quote]
Avatar from Paige !!!!!!!!!!!!
Avatar from Paige !!!!!!!!!!!!
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Guest
H'saan's assignment for the ESTC turned out to be a dismal failure. By the time the negotiators arrived at the Yellow camp, the entire Tribe had packed up and left, leaving only the desert wind blowing in their wake. With no experience at tracking Sandsmen and little knowledge of the Tribe's movements, the frustrated party had no choice but to turn back to Sabata.
Still, the setback did not weigh heavily on H'saan. The friendships he made on the short trip and the payment of half a crown afterwards did much to cheer him up. Within a day he was back on his feet, using his connections with Corlais' hired men to find freelance work around the city and with caravans out in the desert. The rise in banditry kept him busy for the next three months as he waited for the halfling Crispin Longfellow to return from his trip to World's Mouth. He consolidated many of his existing skills, but had little time to learn anything new.
Two months before Longfellow's expedition was due to leave Sabata, personal tragedy touched H'saan's life again for the first time since his father had died. Over dinner one night, the healer questioned his dreshi about her sighting of the Philosopher's Stone as a child, and found that she knew nothing of it. At first he grew angry, thinking that Longfellow had lied to him, but over the next few weeks, Marianna began to exhibit further signs of memory loss and personality changes. Eventually, H'saan and Marianna's son Aemelius were forced to conclude that she was developing some degenerative disease of the brain, and that they had nothing in their power to cure her.
H'saan did not know whether he truly believed in the existence of the Philosopher's Stone, but for the first time in his life, he found himself hoping that something like it existed.
Recess Stars
Healing [Non-magical]: ***
Playing musical instruments [Pipes]: *
Quarterstaff: **
Slings: **
Survival [Desert]:**
Still, the setback did not weigh heavily on H'saan. The friendships he made on the short trip and the payment of half a crown afterwards did much to cheer him up. Within a day he was back on his feet, using his connections with Corlais' hired men to find freelance work around the city and with caravans out in the desert. The rise in banditry kept him busy for the next three months as he waited for the halfling Crispin Longfellow to return from his trip to World's Mouth. He consolidated many of his existing skills, but had little time to learn anything new.
Two months before Longfellow's expedition was due to leave Sabata, personal tragedy touched H'saan's life again for the first time since his father had died. Over dinner one night, the healer questioned his dreshi about her sighting of the Philosopher's Stone as a child, and found that she knew nothing of it. At first he grew angry, thinking that Longfellow had lied to him, but over the next few weeks, Marianna began to exhibit further signs of memory loss and personality changes. Eventually, H'saan and Marianna's son Aemelius were forced to conclude that she was developing some degenerative disease of the brain, and that they had nothing in their power to cure her.
H'saan did not know whether he truly believed in the existence of the Philosopher's Stone, but for the first time in his life, he found himself hoping that something like it existed.
Recess Stars
Healing [Non-magical]: ***
Playing musical instruments [Pipes]: *
Quarterstaff: **
Slings: **
Survival [Desert]:**
Last edited by Guest on Tue Mar 20, 2007 1:39 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"Peace be with you, T'Kil," murmured the young shaman quietly as she caressed the sleeping man. She had joined several others in taking refuge with a merchant caravan, and it was here that T'Kil would have to recover from his horrendous wounds. The wet-landers found some sense of security as well, and soon enough they could return to the City by the Great Water if they chose. For Amica, it had meant salvation...for she had disappeared. Even Aeis, Dragon of Wind, would think her dead now...for she had disappeared into the world of Ghosts, and she would soon disappear into the endless desert beyond.
And she would do so this very night.
She had nothing, but she needed nothing. Wearing only a tattered wetlander dress and carrying her spear, Annuire, and her medicine bag, Amica would wait long enough to insure T'Kil's safe recovery before she would slip away into the darkest mark of the eveningtide, fleeing out into the desert as she had a yahren ago. This time it would be different, though. Last yahren she had fled her family and her responsibilities...a selfish little girl who wanted something more. This time, however...she fled to embrace her fate, fleeing towards the responsibility she had accepted.
She would flee west, and live off the land. She could gather what she needed from the desert's many, varied animals and plants...and she could conjure what water she might want, leaving in her wake one oasis after another, small pools of water that would dry up and wither away within marks of her passing. Wrapping her face and feet in the remnants of her once-long skirt, Amica would travel through the hot, dry days and freezing, formidable nights all through the winter season to reach the foothills of the Great Western Mountains. There, she would begin her hunt for the Peshawgo...and the Dragon of Wind...once again.
Skills:
Mod discretion, maybe survival, healing, and communicating with spirits?
And she would do so this very night.
She had nothing, but she needed nothing. Wearing only a tattered wetlander dress and carrying her spear, Annuire, and her medicine bag, Amica would wait long enough to insure T'Kil's safe recovery before she would slip away into the darkest mark of the eveningtide, fleeing out into the desert as she had a yahren ago. This time it would be different, though. Last yahren she had fled her family and her responsibilities...a selfish little girl who wanted something more. This time, however...she fled to embrace her fate, fleeing towards the responsibility she had accepted.
She would flee west, and live off the land. She could gather what she needed from the desert's many, varied animals and plants...and she could conjure what water she might want, leaving in her wake one oasis after another, small pools of water that would dry up and wither away within marks of her passing. Wrapping her face and feet in the remnants of her once-long skirt, Amica would travel through the hot, dry days and freezing, formidable nights all through the winter season to reach the foothills of the Great Western Mountains. There, she would begin her hunt for the Peshawgo...and the Dragon of Wind...once again.
Skills:
Mod discretion, maybe survival, healing, and communicating with spirits?
OOC: Below I will finalise the summaries as they come in. Please note that you cannot write something that contradicts what someone before you wrote if it is already finalised. As soon as you are finalised you can make your first Chyril threads. The Sands await on Morningtide, 22nd of Chyril!
IC: The sale of the cargo of the Scillus made Jack a rich man, by most standards, although not on the level of the mercantile elite of Sabata. The import of coffee from the Mouth, mediated through House Constanza, also proved to be quite a popular move, although buyers were initially hard to find. Jack found some competition, too, in the form of the massive Eastern Sands Trading Company, who dealt directly with the Aveas Exports Company, the other major supplier of coffee. More obviously welcome was Jack's sword, where he lent it, as banditry was on the rise.
The desert of Terra Incognita was much like the Great Desert that was home to Sweeney's race - although Sweeney himself was unable to make the comparison. Bandits were spotted a few times during the journey, but an attack never came, possibly because the Eastern Sands Company caravan he was accompanying was relatively well guarded and the bandits did not want to take the risk. Unbeknownst to the half giant, many of these bandits had "fought" on the same side as him in the War of the One, as mercenaries in the Mouth's army.
H'saan was privileged enough to have more close contact with these out-of-work mercenaries, usually in dirty desert combat. His skills as a healer were much appreciated by those on his side - who were often no more principled than the bandits they were hired to fend off. The merchants of Sabata were not picky about their hired muscle, and as many mercs joined Harkhebi's guard and the Company as ventured out into the Sands to make their fortune.
When T'kil woke on the morning of the 29th of Samheen and found that Amica was gone, he cursed his luck. The girl had clearly gone to face the Wind Dragon. He could not follow her, not if it was her wish to go alone - nor would he be able to, as the desert winds would wipe out any sign of a trail within a few marks. Briefly he considered making a casting to reveal to him the path she had taken, but he knew that his own injuries would make his progress in following painfully slow if not fatal. No, he would have to take another path. T'kil offered his services to the caravan until they reached Sabata, and sat brooding over the likely fate of one who dared to challenge the Beast without support... one who was at that moment making her steady way towards the massive forms of the Howling Ice Mountains in the west.
IC: The sale of the cargo of the Scillus made Jack a rich man, by most standards, although not on the level of the mercantile elite of Sabata. The import of coffee from the Mouth, mediated through House Constanza, also proved to be quite a popular move, although buyers were initially hard to find. Jack found some competition, too, in the form of the massive Eastern Sands Trading Company, who dealt directly with the Aveas Exports Company, the other major supplier of coffee. More obviously welcome was Jack's sword, where he lent it, as banditry was on the rise.
The desert of Terra Incognita was much like the Great Desert that was home to Sweeney's race - although Sweeney himself was unable to make the comparison. Bandits were spotted a few times during the journey, but an attack never came, possibly because the Eastern Sands Company caravan he was accompanying was relatively well guarded and the bandits did not want to take the risk. Unbeknownst to the half giant, many of these bandits had "fought" on the same side as him in the War of the One, as mercenaries in the Mouth's army.
H'saan was privileged enough to have more close contact with these out-of-work mercenaries, usually in dirty desert combat. His skills as a healer were much appreciated by those on his side - who were often no more principled than the bandits they were hired to fend off. The merchants of Sabata were not picky about their hired muscle, and as many mercs joined Harkhebi's guard and the Company as ventured out into the Sands to make their fortune.
When T'kil woke on the morning of the 29th of Samheen and found that Amica was gone, he cursed his luck. The girl had clearly gone to face the Wind Dragon. He could not follow her, not if it was her wish to go alone - nor would he be able to, as the desert winds would wipe out any sign of a trail within a few marks. Briefly he considered making a casting to reveal to him the path she had taken, but he knew that his own injuries would make his progress in following painfully slow if not fatal. No, he would have to take another path. T'kil offered his services to the caravan until they reached Sabata, and sat brooding over the likely fate of one who dared to challenge the Beast without support... one who was at that moment making her steady way towards the massive forms of the Howling Ice Mountains in the west.
[size=84][i]"She told me I had too much to dream last night..."[/i] - [i]Apprentice of the Universe[/i], Pure Reason Revolution
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
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Guest
Holler Sleipnir, Orc and marrow sucker extraordinaire.
Holler Sleipnir - Chyril 22nd 1225 A.D.
As leader of his pack enslaved Orcs, Holler had been ordered by their master - Governor Maglio - to forcefully sabotage the Faithful Army. Their freedom enhanced by a twenty crown reward was promised to the Orc leader and his thirty eight warriors. In return they had to make sure that not a soul of the invading army would return to Aveas. The Orcs, as always, take slaughter and bloodshed very seriously and wallow in the ruin they create. The battle at Gatetown surged back and forth without a clear victor emerging. Waves of warriors ebbed and flooded the battle field. Impatiently the Orcs stood back and watched the bloodletting. Hard pressed to keep his men from joining the fray, Holler waited and waited, choosing the perfect moment to carry out his orders. As once again the Panlings pushed back the Faithful Army, he released his boys. Freed from the restraints of their commander's dark glare they crashed into the vanguard, growling and bawling. Completely taken by surprise the besieged men didn't put up much of a fight. The shock troops they had expected to aid them had suddenly turned on them. Many a soldier died with shock fresh on their bloody visages.
Holler's pack forced about a turning point in the battle. The delicate balance was broken, shattered, stomped to pieces by huge green feet. Plowing through the troops like huge lawn mowers the Orcs sent a ripple of panic through the lines. Not all of the warriors broke and ran, but most did. Some fought back with a zeal born from desperation and righteous anger. The panlings, take aback by the sudden murderous frenzy so very Orcish in nature, stood mouths agape. In this moment of awe and indecision about half of Holler's warband came to a painful end. Not sure what to think of the Orcs' help, Gatetown's defenders shrugged and once again advanced on their shared enemy.
As silence and crows descended on the blood drenched battlefield, the murky green leader - chewing on a thighbone - surveyed their handiwork. Only nine of his men limped over to him. Most displayed an impressive array of cuts and bruises, not unlike Holler. With regret he noticed that he had lost middle and ring finger of his left hand. Still the spoils of battle more than made up for the loss. As any well bred Orc should, Sleipnir had looted the battlefield afterwards. The cheap slave weapons and armour he'd replaced by sturdier specimens. Money pouches, rings, pendants and other shiny stuff had inadvertedly made their way into the sack by his side. As it became clear that not many more of his comrades would show up alive, Holler rose unsteadily and grunted to his nine to follow. As they plotted their way towards the coolness of the forests, their way was blocked by the victors. A line of Panlings spread out to encircle the sorry survivors of the Orc warband. Gripping their weapons tightly, the warriors glared at them.
After a rather civilized conversation in which Holler managed to convince their captors that he and his Orcs had been enslaved and forced to fight in the war, the Panlings grudgingly admitted that the green monsters had actually helped their cause greatly. As a result they are allowed to use the portal in Gatetown to get on their way. Helped them, they might have, but there is no love lost betwixt their hosts and them. So, with inappopriate haste the sad leftovers of Holler's warband were marched over to the portal and send off-Pan's Isle.
Still not cured from his fear of the dark seas, it came about that due to this forrest campaign his distaste for trees and the soil that feeded them was temporarily worse. As he stumbled out of the magical portal on yonder side, he didn't take time to heal properly before he sought out a seaworty ship. Salt water might set his upper lip atremble, but at least the Orc knew what he got himself into. Four of his comrades followed their former leader on this excursion. Only burns before they shipped out, Holler sold off the spoils of war and hid the well deserved coinage in a safe place.
Soon it became apparent that theirs was a pirate ship. What better place for a few Orcs! It took them no time at all to get used to the routine aboard the vessel, as they sailed from conquest to port and port to conquest. After they dropped anchor in Nether's Gate, their ship acquired a healer - to many a sailor's relief. Lir Calysta Markby was a sullen, little wench, but Holler thought she seemed able enough.
After a particular hard catch, Sleipnir ended up in the healer's not so soft hands. Some bloody lacerations testified to the stiff opposition their last victim had given them. As the ship tried to limp it's way to the nearest harbor - Sabata - a competitor accosted them. With unveiled threats and harsh accusations the other pirate ship claimed the hard won prize to be theirs. A more cowardly captain can not be found; their high and mighty leader caved in under the pressure and just handed the goods over to the antagonist. As the sails and black flag disappeared over the horizon, dismayal and anger rose. The helmsman a piratical sullen sod decided to vent his wrath on the only female aboard; Lir. Too bad for him, he hadn't counted on Holler. The steersman had been taunting the tall, muddy green Orc on many an occassion - which was a sure way to becoming a midnight snack in it's own right. Presented with the man assaulting his doctor, offered the Orcish sailor a perfect way to vent his own grievance, and supplement his diet.
The captain of course was not amused. A good steersman is harder to come by than your average - though Orcish - sailor. So, as they hit port it didn't took the man long to toss Holler Sleipnir off his deck. The Orc figured that the captain did it not just to punish him, but also to regain at least a speck of authority. Thus Holler ended up in Sabata.
Skills:
Intimidation Thuggery: **
Sailing: *
Tactics: ***
Swords, One-handed: ****
As leader of his pack enslaved Orcs, Holler had been ordered by their master - Governor Maglio - to forcefully sabotage the Faithful Army. Their freedom enhanced by a twenty crown reward was promised to the Orc leader and his thirty eight warriors. In return they had to make sure that not a soul of the invading army would return to Aveas. The Orcs, as always, take slaughter and bloodshed very seriously and wallow in the ruin they create. The battle at Gatetown surged back and forth without a clear victor emerging. Waves of warriors ebbed and flooded the battle field. Impatiently the Orcs stood back and watched the bloodletting. Hard pressed to keep his men from joining the fray, Holler waited and waited, choosing the perfect moment to carry out his orders. As once again the Panlings pushed back the Faithful Army, he released his boys. Freed from the restraints of their commander's dark glare they crashed into the vanguard, growling and bawling. Completely taken by surprise the besieged men didn't put up much of a fight. The shock troops they had expected to aid them had suddenly turned on them. Many a soldier died with shock fresh on their bloody visages.
Holler's pack forced about a turning point in the battle. The delicate balance was broken, shattered, stomped to pieces by huge green feet. Plowing through the troops like huge lawn mowers the Orcs sent a ripple of panic through the lines. Not all of the warriors broke and ran, but most did. Some fought back with a zeal born from desperation and righteous anger. The panlings, take aback by the sudden murderous frenzy so very Orcish in nature, stood mouths agape. In this moment of awe and indecision about half of Holler's warband came to a painful end. Not sure what to think of the Orcs' help, Gatetown's defenders shrugged and once again advanced on their shared enemy.
As silence and crows descended on the blood drenched battlefield, the murky green leader - chewing on a thighbone - surveyed their handiwork. Only nine of his men limped over to him. Most displayed an impressive array of cuts and bruises, not unlike Holler. With regret he noticed that he had lost middle and ring finger of his left hand. Still the spoils of battle more than made up for the loss. As any well bred Orc should, Sleipnir had looted the battlefield afterwards. The cheap slave weapons and armour he'd replaced by sturdier specimens. Money pouches, rings, pendants and other shiny stuff had inadvertedly made their way into the sack by his side. As it became clear that not many more of his comrades would show up alive, Holler rose unsteadily and grunted to his nine to follow. As they plotted their way towards the coolness of the forests, their way was blocked by the victors. A line of Panlings spread out to encircle the sorry survivors of the Orc warband. Gripping their weapons tightly, the warriors glared at them.
After a rather civilized conversation in which Holler managed to convince their captors that he and his Orcs had been enslaved and forced to fight in the war, the Panlings grudgingly admitted that the green monsters had actually helped their cause greatly. As a result they are allowed to use the portal in Gatetown to get on their way. Helped them, they might have, but there is no love lost betwixt their hosts and them. So, with inappopriate haste the sad leftovers of Holler's warband were marched over to the portal and send off-Pan's Isle.
Still not cured from his fear of the dark seas, it came about that due to this forrest campaign his distaste for trees and the soil that feeded them was temporarily worse. As he stumbled out of the magical portal on yonder side, he didn't take time to heal properly before he sought out a seaworty ship. Salt water might set his upper lip atremble, but at least the Orc knew what he got himself into. Four of his comrades followed their former leader on this excursion. Only burns before they shipped out, Holler sold off the spoils of war and hid the well deserved coinage in a safe place.
Soon it became apparent that theirs was a pirate ship. What better place for a few Orcs! It took them no time at all to get used to the routine aboard the vessel, as they sailed from conquest to port and port to conquest. After they dropped anchor in Nether's Gate, their ship acquired a healer - to many a sailor's relief. Lir Calysta Markby was a sullen, little wench, but Holler thought she seemed able enough.
After a particular hard catch, Sleipnir ended up in the healer's not so soft hands. Some bloody lacerations testified to the stiff opposition their last victim had given them. As the ship tried to limp it's way to the nearest harbor - Sabata - a competitor accosted them. With unveiled threats and harsh accusations the other pirate ship claimed the hard won prize to be theirs. A more cowardly captain can not be found; their high and mighty leader caved in under the pressure and just handed the goods over to the antagonist. As the sails and black flag disappeared over the horizon, dismayal and anger rose. The helmsman a piratical sullen sod decided to vent his wrath on the only female aboard; Lir. Too bad for him, he hadn't counted on Holler. The steersman had been taunting the tall, muddy green Orc on many an occassion - which was a sure way to becoming a midnight snack in it's own right. Presented with the man assaulting his doctor, offered the Orcish sailor a perfect way to vent his own grievance, and supplement his diet.
The captain of course was not amused. A good steersman is harder to come by than your average - though Orcish - sailor. So, as they hit port it didn't took the man long to toss Holler Sleipnir off his deck. The Orc figured that the captain did it not just to punish him, but also to regain at least a speck of authority. Thus Holler ended up in Sabata.
Skills:
Intimidation Thuggery: **
Sailing: *
Tactics: ***
Swords, One-handed: ****
-
Guest
Although until then, Jezira has had many signs that Councillor Ramessu was a mighty man and surely one of the - if not the top one of - prime movers of things here in the rich trade port city of Sabata, she was deeply impressed from the moment on, when she first saw the mansion of the Councillor.
As Auson spoke to her and took her from Silberstein's she did what almost always helped her to get along with people. She listened intently and weighed carefully what she had been told, at the same time she watched carefully for reactions which told her what the person expected to hear from her. Never having been outside of Amun Rah somewhat complicated things for her, here in Sabata. So she began to watch the people around her for customs or reactions specific to the culture she will have to deal with.
Neus, the woman who Jezira had to entertain, was a challenge for her as she seemed to be a spirited person and seemed to expect no less from Jezira, who had to adjust quickly to a state of mind so very alien to anything she had been trained to do. On the other hand Neus was from Amun Rah, which to some extend even made it easier to understand the woman as Jezira didn't had to bridge a cultural gap.
When not being together with Neus, Jezira concentrated a lot on preparing in advance to Neus interests, be it reading poetry books from the library to learn enough to entertain her with recitals too or when shopping with her she paid attention to the newest style in sabattan fashion, which compared with the amunic fashion brought up a good conversation for hours for sure.
Although she gave a lot of time into her preparation, Jezira almost never missed her stretching gymnastics, which are so essential to keep and improve her dancing and acrobatic training, which she thought to herself won't be to Neus liking, but which Jezira is very fond of.
Even as the other slaves treated Jezira with respect, she always tried to be polite and friendly to them, keeping their names always present to address them properly and trying not to discuss, but to give suggestions if her opinion was asked, especially to Auson, to whom she showed even more respect. In general trying to stay out of any problems.
OOC :
The stars I would like to spend for ...
***** culture(Sabata) (to Basic)
** conversation (to Basic+**)
* Acrobatics (to Basic+*)
* Dancing (to Basic+*)
* Literacy (to Basic+*)
As Auson spoke to her and took her from Silberstein's she did what almost always helped her to get along with people. She listened intently and weighed carefully what she had been told, at the same time she watched carefully for reactions which told her what the person expected to hear from her. Never having been outside of Amun Rah somewhat complicated things for her, here in Sabata. So she began to watch the people around her for customs or reactions specific to the culture she will have to deal with.
Neus, the woman who Jezira had to entertain, was a challenge for her as she seemed to be a spirited person and seemed to expect no less from Jezira, who had to adjust quickly to a state of mind so very alien to anything she had been trained to do. On the other hand Neus was from Amun Rah, which to some extend even made it easier to understand the woman as Jezira didn't had to bridge a cultural gap.
When not being together with Neus, Jezira concentrated a lot on preparing in advance to Neus interests, be it reading poetry books from the library to learn enough to entertain her with recitals too or when shopping with her she paid attention to the newest style in sabattan fashion, which compared with the amunic fashion brought up a good conversation for hours for sure.
Although she gave a lot of time into her preparation, Jezira almost never missed her stretching gymnastics, which are so essential to keep and improve her dancing and acrobatic training, which she thought to herself won't be to Neus liking, but which Jezira is very fond of.
Even as the other slaves treated Jezira with respect, she always tried to be polite and friendly to them, keeping their names always present to address them properly and trying not to discuss, but to give suggestions if her opinion was asked, especially to Auson, to whom she showed even more respect. In general trying to stay out of any problems.
OOC :
The stars I would like to spend for ...
***** culture(Sabata) (to Basic)
** conversation (to Basic+**)
* Acrobatics (to Basic+*)
* Dancing (to Basic+*)
* Literacy (to Basic+*)
(OOC: Both approved and skilled! 
)
And so it was that Holler found himself back in the city from which he'd been forcibly evicted three months earlier. As a harbour, Sabata wasn't much worse than some of the other hell-holes around the seas... Nether's Gate, the Broken Isles, some of Muchislie's less salubrious townships... but one thing it did have was dry, oppressive heat. It also contained more slavers per head of population than perhaps anywhere else in Tazlure, some of whom had already enslaved Holler and would no doubt be baffled and more than a little scared to see that he was once again walking free so soon after his capture.
Jezira was in a more stable situation, at least. The spirited Neus even provided her with a reasonable amount of "pocket money" of her own over the three months, mostly out of interest in seeing what the slave - who had likely only very rarely had money to spend on herself - would do with it.
The other slaves of the estate warmed to the girl. She was in a difficult position in being somewhat set above and aside the others by her connection to Neus. In addition, some of them had heard whispers of the exceptional price paid for her, a price almost unheard of in the slave markets of Sabata. It would have been easy for them to turn up their nose at her, but they appreciated the facts that she always remained friendly and civil with them and that she always remembered their names, and some of them even broke out of their reticent shells and would talk to her as a friend on occasion.
)
And so it was that Holler found himself back in the city from which he'd been forcibly evicted three months earlier. As a harbour, Sabata wasn't much worse than some of the other hell-holes around the seas... Nether's Gate, the Broken Isles, some of Muchislie's less salubrious townships... but one thing it did have was dry, oppressive heat. It also contained more slavers per head of population than perhaps anywhere else in Tazlure, some of whom had already enslaved Holler and would no doubt be baffled and more than a little scared to see that he was once again walking free so soon after his capture.
Jezira was in a more stable situation, at least. The spirited Neus even provided her with a reasonable amount of "pocket money" of her own over the three months, mostly out of interest in seeing what the slave - who had likely only very rarely had money to spend on herself - would do with it.
The other slaves of the estate warmed to the girl. She was in a difficult position in being somewhat set above and aside the others by her connection to Neus. In addition, some of them had heard whispers of the exceptional price paid for her, a price almost unheard of in the slave markets of Sabata. It would have been easy for them to turn up their nose at her, but they appreciated the facts that she always remained friendly and civil with them and that she always remembered their names, and some of them even broke out of their reticent shells and would talk to her as a friend on occasion.
[size=84][i]"She told me I had too much to dream last night..."[/i] - [i]Apprentice of the Universe[/i], Pure Reason Revolution
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
-
Lir Calysta Markby
- Civus
- Posts: 226
- Joined: Sun May 07, 2006 1:32 am
Lir Calysta Markby - Chyril 22nd 1225 A.D.
During the grueling war, Lir felt as if she was stuck in a continuous loop of healing, evading, and fighting. She had imagined how bad it was but worse. Her only times of comfort was when she was able to spend some time with her companion, Ony who continued to aid her in her studies in both a martial arts that could disarm an opponent in hand to hand combat snapping a couple of bones in their body if done correctly as well as dodging attacks which worked well with her martial training. Also giving pointers on her technique to defend herself with knives in close ranged attacks.
The young ship healer also practised her knife throwing when Ony was busy and she was waiting for the next wave of patients, trying to get used to her small throwing daggers. Her targets which were usually a painted cork board or other inanimate targets and as of yet has not had the need to throw it at a moving target.
Of course, because it was during a war, her skills as a healer became a bit more strong and she felt more confidence in herself with cleaning, stitching, hacking off limbs, and using her herbs to drug, or assist with the healing process. Using what herbs she had brought with her from the Nether's Gate and what she found in Pan's Isle.
It was during the last days of the war, tragedy befell on her companion Ony who was in charge of a scouting party and that ran into a war party and even though the scouting party escaped, most were injuried and some were critical. Ony had unfortunately received a laceration in her neck that had released a lot of her life essence before she was brought to Lir.
The ship healer did what she could to stop the bleeding but Ony's spirit had already left her body making it impossible to do anything else. As strange as it may seem, during the preparation of the cleansing ceremony, Lir took a large vial of Ony's blood and kept it in her medical bag before she released the body. A keepsake or a future poison research, no one knew she had taken her friend's life essence, but she herself wanted a way to remember her friend.
It was then, Lir had decided she had enough of this war. She received her payment and headed back home to Nether's Gate. She packed up what she could carry and sold her home. The dark-haired woman did not believe she would be back in awhile if ever and knew it best to extend her knowledge of her skills as a healer, as well as the art of death.
Lir made sure to keep her herbs replenished and the rest of her funds was sewn in various garments left in her possession.
She received passage on board a pirate ship that held a fierce looking humanoid who called himself Holler who at first she stayed clear from for the most part. It was easy enough to maintain the health of this ship but there were several times when it became down right dangerous especially after their last encounter which had left several of the men badly injured and the one called Holler to be brought under her care for 16 stitches.
It was a couple of days away from Sabata when a rival pirate ship called the Manticore caught up to their own. Their pirates had boarded the ship that Lir was on, demanding their take. argument had broken out but strangely enough no physical fighting had started. She watched the ongoings on the deck as their cowardly captain gave their hard earned loot to the Manticore's captain. The tension was evident as both sides felt the pressure of this insult.
Once they were gone and sailing off, one particular helmsman who obviously had a grudge against her because she had shut his advances down very harshly, had the audacity to pick a fight with her and even ready to attack her. While she knew she could have handled the helmsman, it was Holler that had saved the day and killed the man that threatened her, but she had a feeling the man had it coming. The first day was constant taunts like a foolish man poking a hungry bear with a stick.
Sabata was Lir's port of harbor and when Holler was thrown off as his punishment, the healer had her possessions already packed up and stepped off the ship as well. It was still difficult to describe what she felt when she had stepped onto land, but she knew for now this was home.
Throwing Weapon ~ **
Martial Arts ~ ***
Dodge Blow ~ **
Healing (Non-Magical) ~ **
Smaller Blades ~ *
Sold her townhouse ~ +4 Crown
Mercenary healer for war wages ~ ??
During the grueling war, Lir felt as if she was stuck in a continuous loop of healing, evading, and fighting. She had imagined how bad it was but worse. Her only times of comfort was when she was able to spend some time with her companion, Ony who continued to aid her in her studies in both a martial arts that could disarm an opponent in hand to hand combat snapping a couple of bones in their body if done correctly as well as dodging attacks which worked well with her martial training. Also giving pointers on her technique to defend herself with knives in close ranged attacks.
The young ship healer also practised her knife throwing when Ony was busy and she was waiting for the next wave of patients, trying to get used to her small throwing daggers. Her targets which were usually a painted cork board or other inanimate targets and as of yet has not had the need to throw it at a moving target.
Of course, because it was during a war, her skills as a healer became a bit more strong and she felt more confidence in herself with cleaning, stitching, hacking off limbs, and using her herbs to drug, or assist with the healing process. Using what herbs she had brought with her from the Nether's Gate and what she found in Pan's Isle.
It was during the last days of the war, tragedy befell on her companion Ony who was in charge of a scouting party and that ran into a war party and even though the scouting party escaped, most were injuried and some were critical. Ony had unfortunately received a laceration in her neck that had released a lot of her life essence before she was brought to Lir.
The ship healer did what she could to stop the bleeding but Ony's spirit had already left her body making it impossible to do anything else. As strange as it may seem, during the preparation of the cleansing ceremony, Lir took a large vial of Ony's blood and kept it in her medical bag before she released the body. A keepsake or a future poison research, no one knew she had taken her friend's life essence, but she herself wanted a way to remember her friend.
It was then, Lir had decided she had enough of this war. She received her payment and headed back home to Nether's Gate. She packed up what she could carry and sold her home. The dark-haired woman did not believe she would be back in awhile if ever and knew it best to extend her knowledge of her skills as a healer, as well as the art of death.
Lir made sure to keep her herbs replenished and the rest of her funds was sewn in various garments left in her possession.
She received passage on board a pirate ship that held a fierce looking humanoid who called himself Holler who at first she stayed clear from for the most part. It was easy enough to maintain the health of this ship but there were several times when it became down right dangerous especially after their last encounter which had left several of the men badly injured and the one called Holler to be brought under her care for 16 stitches.
It was a couple of days away from Sabata when a rival pirate ship called the Manticore caught up to their own. Their pirates had boarded the ship that Lir was on, demanding their take. argument had broken out but strangely enough no physical fighting had started. She watched the ongoings on the deck as their cowardly captain gave their hard earned loot to the Manticore's captain. The tension was evident as both sides felt the pressure of this insult.
Once they were gone and sailing off, one particular helmsman who obviously had a grudge against her because she had shut his advances down very harshly, had the audacity to pick a fight with her and even ready to attack her. While she knew she could have handled the helmsman, it was Holler that had saved the day and killed the man that threatened her, but she had a feeling the man had it coming. The first day was constant taunts like a foolish man poking a hungry bear with a stick.
Sabata was Lir's port of harbor and when Holler was thrown off as his punishment, the healer had her possessions already packed up and stepped off the ship as well. It was still difficult to describe what she felt when she had stepped onto land, but she knew for now this was home.
Throwing Weapon ~ **
Martial Arts ~ ***
Dodge Blow ~ **
Healing (Non-Magical) ~ **
Smaller Blades ~ *
Sold her townhouse ~ +4 Crown
Mercenary healer for war wages ~ ??
Beautiful avatar by [url=http://nairohe.deviantart.com/]Nairohe![/url] ^_^
The herbs on Pan's Isle were for the most part very different to those found around Nether's Gate, but in her free moments Lir found that they were rich and plentiful. The island remained a natural paradise despite the atrocities wreaked upon it.
Sabata, by contrast, bordered a dull and near-lifeless desert wasteland. The three vast tentlike domes, festooned with spikes, stood on a vast, jutting ledge of rock overlooking the sea, threatening and unwelcoming. The harbour area itself, though, was much like any the world over, with the exception of the grating dry heat. Unhelpful harbour-hands shuffled about their business, surly guards stood watch over looming warehouses and raucous laughter could be heard from dockside taverns.
(OOC: Skilled, approved, cash paid out!)
Sabata, by contrast, bordered a dull and near-lifeless desert wasteland. The three vast tentlike domes, festooned with spikes, stood on a vast, jutting ledge of rock overlooking the sea, threatening and unwelcoming. The harbour area itself, though, was much like any the world over, with the exception of the grating dry heat. Unhelpful harbour-hands shuffled about their business, surly guards stood watch over looming warehouses and raucous laughter could be heard from dockside taverns.
(OOC: Skilled, approved, cash paid out!)
[size=84][i]"She told me I had too much to dream last night..."[/i] - [i]Apprentice of the Universe[/i], Pure Reason Revolution
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
His ebony hair whipping in the strong easterly breeze, Brann stood at the stern rail of the Manticore and watched the Citadel shrink toward the horizon. His fingers gripped the polished wood tightly, and though the dark onyx pools of his eyes remained dry there was no lack of emotion churning inside. He was saying goodbye to his mother.
Ever since she had escaped Kislovan, his mother had scrapped and fought to provide a decent life for him. And ever since he had been able, he had used his own skills to make sure she was provided for as well. Though she’d never made a point of it, Brann suspected his mother knew how he was supplementing their income. He’d always been careful, only injecting a few coins at a time into their family coffer, but there were some things a mother just knew. Brann didn’t care if it was a charade or not, what mattered was that he was repaying her dedication to him.
But that was all over now. Ever since his misfortune at the docks with Baron Marcada, Brann had been running from one crisis to another. And now, scant days after that fateful meeting, he was aboard a ship headed for the far side of the world. It was his last payment to his mother, bittersweet in the extreme, ensuring her continued safety by taking himself out of the picture as completely as possible.
His thoughts receded unbidden to the Baron’s list that had seemed an unlimited opportunity. His impromptu partner, the waif Haylin, had filched the private list and offered him a cut if he would but read it for her. Little did either know the riches that simple scrap of paper promised. But things had gone wrong quickly, when Brann was captured spying on the nobleman down at the docks. A deal was struck, Marcada’s flunkies agreeing to take Brann on if he gave over his employer. Brann readily agreed, knowing there was no employer to betray, hoping to use his inside position to gain further leverage to make the payoff. But the offer was half-hearted at best, and the achadhiel sneak-thief spent the next three weeks dancing a tightrope between his new employers and the fish at the bottom of the harbour. When Haylin went missing, he knew the gig was up.
Silk and his midnight killers weren’t involved, he was reasonably sure, but elements of the Crane family couldn’t be ruled out. Problem was, neither could foreign influence from the western continent, if Brann’s ears didn’t deceive. He had little to no influence with the Cranes, and absolutely none with some other enterprise working an angle on the Rock, and that left Brann with very few alternatives. Go to ground in the rings of the city and hope against hope that things would blow over, or disappear himself. As he sat pondering in his garret window, his mother asleep in the next room, he made the only decision he could.
He didn’t leave the stern rail until the Citadel sank beneath the waves. Turning forward, he looked across the rolling sea to the west, where the Manticore was bound. Ostensibly the ship was a merchant vessel bound for the far away land of Terra Incognita, and though Brann knew little about seafaring vessels he thought it was sleeker than most he spotted floating in the Citadel’s harbour. He did know people though, and to his practiced eye the crew was a little rough to be convincing as simple traders. It mattered little to him really, for the price was right and his mother was now safe. And either way, this would certainly pose a new challenge for him.
That was how Brann liked to view his life, a series of challenges. He was rarely satisfied with his lot, always looking to try something different and new, to test himself against a higher standard. And even though the severity of his failure against Marcada still stung him terribly, already the dark-haired sneak-thief was viewing his voyage as the next opportunity to match himself against the world. If nothing else, he thought, I’ll learn about sailing, by the Twins!
The voyage proved mostly quiet, much to the growing dismay of the captain and crew. They hugged close to the coastal waterways while still in Empire waters, nominally for the safety of shallower, populated trading lanes and to put in at various ports to load and unload cargo, but Brann eventually concluded without a doubt that the Manticore was looking for easy prey upon which to fall. But they never found what they were looking for, the ships they did encounter either floating high in the water with little cargo or traveling in the safety of groups of three and four. Eventually the captain was forced to make for open water, in the hopes that pickings would be better along the coast of the western continent.
During the crossing Brann found his sea legs, and learned quite a bit about being a sailor. He even weathered his second storm without being sick, quite the accomplishment when compared to the first. He was a natural for the rigging though, with his experience in climbing and with heights, and most days was aloft balancing on a spar or spying across the horizon with merely a hand and leg securing him to the rigging.
When they reached the western sea lanes it seemed their luck was not going to turn. Some even started looking at Brann as bad luck, for never had the Manticore had such a dry spell in as long as they could remember. With nowhere to run, the achadhiel began to get nervous about his status and prayed repeatedly to the Twins to send some luck their way, in the form of a fat and lazy merchant vessel. And finally his need, and that of the Manticore, was answered – at least, to a degree.
They have ranged far south of Sabata searching for vessels rounding the western continent when they finally came across suitable prey. At first Brann thought the other ship was a merchant, but as they got closer he could see her lines didn’t hold with his assumption. But the captain seemed enormously pleased, and they made straight for the ship anyway. With practiced efficiency the crew of the Manticore overtook and drew alongside the other ship, and within burns the two ships were made fast by a series of grappling ropes drawn taut. For all he’d supposed his shipmates were pirates, this demonstration illustrated just how practiced they were.
The odd thing about it was how little resistance the other ship offered. Brann quickly realized something very strange was taking place when the captain of the Manticore walked bold as brass onto the other ship and began demanding things from his opposite number. And with very little complaint, the other captain sent his men to comply with whatever demands had been made. Brann wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or very, very worried.
From his familiar vantage high in the rigging, the dark-haired achadhiel allowed his gaze to wander over the deck of the other ship, more out of boredom than any particular reason. No one grabbed his eye at first, just another set of sailors not unlike the ones he was sailing with. But then, near the aft of the ship, Brann spied two figures not at all like the crew of the Manticore.
The first was a large figure, and clearly not human. If his dark eyes didn’t deceive, Brann would have sworn the sailor was an orc! He watched for a burn while the orc did little more than stand around, caught in the same malaise that affected the entire crew of the other ship. Once again Brann wondered what hold his vessel’s captain held over the other.
Those thoughts were cut short when he spied the second unusual figure, not far from the orc. It was a woman of all things, strange on sailing vessels for any number of good reasons, especially if the promise of Brann’s view held at close quarters. She was clearly attractive, but her stance also betrayed a confidence even surrounded by enemies. If that wasn’t enough, the sea breeze ruffled her long raven hair and revealed a patch over one eye. A smile crept across his angular achadhiel features – Brann was officially intrigued.
The indulgence of the Twins was at an end though, for before he could move more than a span down the rigging for a better view his shipmates began streaming back onto the Manitcore. Apparently they had gathered everything the captain had demanded and were now readying to make way again. The grappling ropes were retrieved and gaffs used to shove away from the other vessel by the time Brann reached the lowest spar. On the far deck he saw another brief flurry of blue-black hair and then only the dingy white of the Manticore’s sails as the ship heeled to the wind.
The voyage continued quickly from there and there was no more talk of Brann being bad luck, much to his relief. Soon enough the lights of Sabata appeared across the waters, and the next morning the Manticore pulled into the harbour. Brann stood near the bowsprit surveying the strange appearance of the city, so completely foreign to anything he’d ever seen before, and hoped he’d made the right decision. It would be a challenge, at least that much was certain.
In the end he was more a passenger than a crew member, so his departure from the Manticore was made with little fanfare. A quick word with the captain, a few bits of advice offered in regard to Sabata and its people, and then Brann was over the side and riding in the ferry to the docks. His future, whatever it may be, awaited.
Recommended skills:
Climb Walls (rigging): ****
Sailing: ***** to achieve gain new skill at basic
Smaller Blades: *
Ever since she had escaped Kislovan, his mother had scrapped and fought to provide a decent life for him. And ever since he had been able, he had used his own skills to make sure she was provided for as well. Though she’d never made a point of it, Brann suspected his mother knew how he was supplementing their income. He’d always been careful, only injecting a few coins at a time into their family coffer, but there were some things a mother just knew. Brann didn’t care if it was a charade or not, what mattered was that he was repaying her dedication to him.
But that was all over now. Ever since his misfortune at the docks with Baron Marcada, Brann had been running from one crisis to another. And now, scant days after that fateful meeting, he was aboard a ship headed for the far side of the world. It was his last payment to his mother, bittersweet in the extreme, ensuring her continued safety by taking himself out of the picture as completely as possible.
His thoughts receded unbidden to the Baron’s list that had seemed an unlimited opportunity. His impromptu partner, the waif Haylin, had filched the private list and offered him a cut if he would but read it for her. Little did either know the riches that simple scrap of paper promised. But things had gone wrong quickly, when Brann was captured spying on the nobleman down at the docks. A deal was struck, Marcada’s flunkies agreeing to take Brann on if he gave over his employer. Brann readily agreed, knowing there was no employer to betray, hoping to use his inside position to gain further leverage to make the payoff. But the offer was half-hearted at best, and the achadhiel sneak-thief spent the next three weeks dancing a tightrope between his new employers and the fish at the bottom of the harbour. When Haylin went missing, he knew the gig was up.
Silk and his midnight killers weren’t involved, he was reasonably sure, but elements of the Crane family couldn’t be ruled out. Problem was, neither could foreign influence from the western continent, if Brann’s ears didn’t deceive. He had little to no influence with the Cranes, and absolutely none with some other enterprise working an angle on the Rock, and that left Brann with very few alternatives. Go to ground in the rings of the city and hope against hope that things would blow over, or disappear himself. As he sat pondering in his garret window, his mother asleep in the next room, he made the only decision he could.
He didn’t leave the stern rail until the Citadel sank beneath the waves. Turning forward, he looked across the rolling sea to the west, where the Manticore was bound. Ostensibly the ship was a merchant vessel bound for the far away land of Terra Incognita, and though Brann knew little about seafaring vessels he thought it was sleeker than most he spotted floating in the Citadel’s harbour. He did know people though, and to his practiced eye the crew was a little rough to be convincing as simple traders. It mattered little to him really, for the price was right and his mother was now safe. And either way, this would certainly pose a new challenge for him.
That was how Brann liked to view his life, a series of challenges. He was rarely satisfied with his lot, always looking to try something different and new, to test himself against a higher standard. And even though the severity of his failure against Marcada still stung him terribly, already the dark-haired sneak-thief was viewing his voyage as the next opportunity to match himself against the world. If nothing else, he thought, I’ll learn about sailing, by the Twins!
The voyage proved mostly quiet, much to the growing dismay of the captain and crew. They hugged close to the coastal waterways while still in Empire waters, nominally for the safety of shallower, populated trading lanes and to put in at various ports to load and unload cargo, but Brann eventually concluded without a doubt that the Manticore was looking for easy prey upon which to fall. But they never found what they were looking for, the ships they did encounter either floating high in the water with little cargo or traveling in the safety of groups of three and four. Eventually the captain was forced to make for open water, in the hopes that pickings would be better along the coast of the western continent.
During the crossing Brann found his sea legs, and learned quite a bit about being a sailor. He even weathered his second storm without being sick, quite the accomplishment when compared to the first. He was a natural for the rigging though, with his experience in climbing and with heights, and most days was aloft balancing on a spar or spying across the horizon with merely a hand and leg securing him to the rigging.
When they reached the western sea lanes it seemed their luck was not going to turn. Some even started looking at Brann as bad luck, for never had the Manticore had such a dry spell in as long as they could remember. With nowhere to run, the achadhiel began to get nervous about his status and prayed repeatedly to the Twins to send some luck their way, in the form of a fat and lazy merchant vessel. And finally his need, and that of the Manticore, was answered – at least, to a degree.
They have ranged far south of Sabata searching for vessels rounding the western continent when they finally came across suitable prey. At first Brann thought the other ship was a merchant, but as they got closer he could see her lines didn’t hold with his assumption. But the captain seemed enormously pleased, and they made straight for the ship anyway. With practiced efficiency the crew of the Manticore overtook and drew alongside the other ship, and within burns the two ships were made fast by a series of grappling ropes drawn taut. For all he’d supposed his shipmates were pirates, this demonstration illustrated just how practiced they were.
The odd thing about it was how little resistance the other ship offered. Brann quickly realized something very strange was taking place when the captain of the Manticore walked bold as brass onto the other ship and began demanding things from his opposite number. And with very little complaint, the other captain sent his men to comply with whatever demands had been made. Brann wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or very, very worried.
From his familiar vantage high in the rigging, the dark-haired achadhiel allowed his gaze to wander over the deck of the other ship, more out of boredom than any particular reason. No one grabbed his eye at first, just another set of sailors not unlike the ones he was sailing with. But then, near the aft of the ship, Brann spied two figures not at all like the crew of the Manticore.
The first was a large figure, and clearly not human. If his dark eyes didn’t deceive, Brann would have sworn the sailor was an orc! He watched for a burn while the orc did little more than stand around, caught in the same malaise that affected the entire crew of the other ship. Once again Brann wondered what hold his vessel’s captain held over the other.
Those thoughts were cut short when he spied the second unusual figure, not far from the orc. It was a woman of all things, strange on sailing vessels for any number of good reasons, especially if the promise of Brann’s view held at close quarters. She was clearly attractive, but her stance also betrayed a confidence even surrounded by enemies. If that wasn’t enough, the sea breeze ruffled her long raven hair and revealed a patch over one eye. A smile crept across his angular achadhiel features – Brann was officially intrigued.
The indulgence of the Twins was at an end though, for before he could move more than a span down the rigging for a better view his shipmates began streaming back onto the Manitcore. Apparently they had gathered everything the captain had demanded and were now readying to make way again. The grappling ropes were retrieved and gaffs used to shove away from the other vessel by the time Brann reached the lowest spar. On the far deck he saw another brief flurry of blue-black hair and then only the dingy white of the Manticore’s sails as the ship heeled to the wind.
The voyage continued quickly from there and there was no more talk of Brann being bad luck, much to his relief. Soon enough the lights of Sabata appeared across the waters, and the next morning the Manticore pulled into the harbour. Brann stood near the bowsprit surveying the strange appearance of the city, so completely foreign to anything he’d ever seen before, and hoped he’d made the right decision. It would be a challenge, at least that much was certain.
In the end he was more a passenger than a crew member, so his departure from the Manticore was made with little fanfare. A quick word with the captain, a few bits of advice offered in regard to Sabata and its people, and then Brann was over the side and riding in the ferry to the docks. His future, whatever it may be, awaited.
Recommended skills:
Climb Walls (rigging): ****
Sailing: ***** to achieve gain new skill at basic
Smaller Blades: *
Last edited by Brann on Wed Mar 28, 2007 9:44 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Guest
Calvin spent some time with the People of the Sands, and Shea. He had quickly realized that these hardworking people were not at all as he had been told. Their culture was deep and rich, a fascinating blend of work and play. At first, it was a nearly insurmountable challenge for an Achadhiel to live among the desert people. It had been fine when he was simply a guarrdi needing passage across the desert, but the more it became apparent that Cal had the intention of staying, the more difficult it got for him. The half-breed was constantly making the wrong moves, insulting people with his mere presence. On top of that, he had no skills that were valuable to the tribe. Though Shea did her best to instruct him in proper etiquette and the ways of her society, there were always new an surprising ways for Calvin to step on toes. The desert was harsh on his body, too, leaving him fatigued and worthless for nearly the first month he was there. Abia's death weighed heavily on his mind as well. He had returned the man's recovered scimitar to the one family member he could find, but they and the other members of the tribe had definitely considered the trade of Abia for Calvin to be a poor one. No one had any luck tracking down the bandits that had waylaid the caravan and driven Cal and Shea into the Forbidden Lands, so there was yet another loose thread. As time went by, the trail grew cold and all signs of the battle that day were swallowed by the unforgiving sands.
His many failures and constant slip-ups aside, he was having the time of his life. He was used to the life of captivity on a slave ship, so the mild disgust that the desert people regarded him with was still a step up from his former conditions. At least he had Shea, a single friend and ally among the people, as well as a guide to surviving the harsh climate and culture. He had made her a solemn vow that she would one day regard him as a beshi, one who truly was at home in the sands. He had made a blood oath, something impossible to take back. Calvin would become a child of the desert, or he would become a victim of it. Gradually, the Achadhiel was growing more accustomed to the ways of the tribe and the sands, but it was slow and painful to learn. Cal was quick to help anyone with anything that he could, though he was of limited use to the People of the Sand. One of the few tasks they did seem to allow him to perform was riding along with caravans to the port-city of Sabata, where he had first met Abia and Shea. He always felt more welcome in the city, but he felt more at home with the tribe. The slaves that everyone seemed to ignore were glaring in his perception of the place. Had he rolled a different number on a set of dice, he would have been among them. Sabata would never be his home for that simple reason. On the first of his trips he had decided to purchase a pair of scimitars, so he no longer had to borrow Shea's while she instructed him.
Though Calvin was learning all he could as fast as he could, the desert people seemed no more willing to accept him than when he had first arrived. He had fallen in love with their way of life, of total freedom and simplicity. If it wasn't for Shea, he would have felt completely alone. It became increasingly apparent that a guarrdi wouldn't pierce the thick defenses of the People of the Sand, at least not easily. His thoughts often traveled to Pirate's Duchy, where he imagined that his mother was awaiting him. The realist inside him, however, would remind him that it had been over five yahren since his capture. Surely she would believe him dead, and even if she thought him alive, how would he find her? It seemed unlikely that she would be living in their old home still, in fact, it seemed impossible. The Achadhiel was torn between searching for a home that might not exist and existing in a home that wasn't his own. Both seemed equally daunting, but his oath kept him where he was for the time being.
Cal resigned himself to learning all he could of the desert and it's people. Nothing would stop him from becoming at home in the sands, even if the others who called the desert their home never accepted him. This was between the half-breed and the desert, nothing else mattered. He at least had Shea's friendship and tutelage to help him carry on. All in all, the time he had spent with the tribe since they had been rescued by the Dragonrider was the best in his short life. Still, something drastic would have to happen before he could claim the title of beshi.
Recess Stars
**** to bring Survival [Desert] to Apprentice
*** to bring Culture [Terra Incognita] to Apprentice
* to bring Swords, One-handed to Apprentice+*
* to bring Two Weapon Fighting to Apprentice+*
* to bring Riding [Camel] to Basic+*
His many failures and constant slip-ups aside, he was having the time of his life. He was used to the life of captivity on a slave ship, so the mild disgust that the desert people regarded him with was still a step up from his former conditions. At least he had Shea, a single friend and ally among the people, as well as a guide to surviving the harsh climate and culture. He had made her a solemn vow that she would one day regard him as a beshi, one who truly was at home in the sands. He had made a blood oath, something impossible to take back. Calvin would become a child of the desert, or he would become a victim of it. Gradually, the Achadhiel was growing more accustomed to the ways of the tribe and the sands, but it was slow and painful to learn. Cal was quick to help anyone with anything that he could, though he was of limited use to the People of the Sand. One of the few tasks they did seem to allow him to perform was riding along with caravans to the port-city of Sabata, where he had first met Abia and Shea. He always felt more welcome in the city, but he felt more at home with the tribe. The slaves that everyone seemed to ignore were glaring in his perception of the place. Had he rolled a different number on a set of dice, he would have been among them. Sabata would never be his home for that simple reason. On the first of his trips he had decided to purchase a pair of scimitars, so he no longer had to borrow Shea's while she instructed him.
Though Calvin was learning all he could as fast as he could, the desert people seemed no more willing to accept him than when he had first arrived. He had fallen in love with their way of life, of total freedom and simplicity. If it wasn't for Shea, he would have felt completely alone. It became increasingly apparent that a guarrdi wouldn't pierce the thick defenses of the People of the Sand, at least not easily. His thoughts often traveled to Pirate's Duchy, where he imagined that his mother was awaiting him. The realist inside him, however, would remind him that it had been over five yahren since his capture. Surely she would believe him dead, and even if she thought him alive, how would he find her? It seemed unlikely that she would be living in their old home still, in fact, it seemed impossible. The Achadhiel was torn between searching for a home that might not exist and existing in a home that wasn't his own. Both seemed equally daunting, but his oath kept him where he was for the time being.
Cal resigned himself to learning all he could of the desert and it's people. Nothing would stop him from becoming at home in the sands, even if the others who called the desert their home never accepted him. This was between the half-breed and the desert, nothing else mattered. He at least had Shea's friendship and tutelage to help him carry on. All in all, the time he had spent with the tribe since they had been rescued by the Dragonrider was the best in his short life. Still, something drastic would have to happen before he could claim the title of beshi.
Recess Stars
**** to bring Survival [Desert] to Apprentice
*** to bring Culture [Terra Incognita] to Apprentice
* to bring Swords, One-handed to Apprentice+*
* to bring Two Weapon Fighting to Apprentice+*
* to bring Riding [Camel] to Basic+*
Last edited by Guest on Tue Mar 27, 2007 9:40 pm, edited 1 time in total.
The most striking thing about Sabata for Brann was the ferocious heat of the sun. Light breezes blew into the city off the sea, but they did little to alleviate the oppression, fiercer even than in Brann's mother's homeland of Kislovan due to the scarcity of plant life along the eastern coast of West Terra. For an Achadhiel physique it was taxing to say the least, especially when much of that achadhiel's wardrobe consisted of blacks.
Earning the acceptance of the People of the Sand was a tall order, and after three months Calvin had little to show for his efforts. Perhaps some of the members of the tribe who had initially been more aloof now deigned to greet him, but not even Shea treated him as a full beshi. His presence was gently tolerated, but rarely appreciated. Living in such close proximity to the People, Calvin was also able to sense their growing unease. The Sands had always been a harsh homeland, but the general consensus seemed to be that the climate was becoming progressively less hospitable. The few isolated visits from members of the Blue and Black Tribes and the agitation of the tribe's elders and leaders after holding meetings in their tents with these representatives offered further evidence that this problem - whatever it was - was real.
(OOC: Skilled, approved, cash doled out!)
Earning the acceptance of the People of the Sand was a tall order, and after three months Calvin had little to show for his efforts. Perhaps some of the members of the tribe who had initially been more aloof now deigned to greet him, but not even Shea treated him as a full beshi. His presence was gently tolerated, but rarely appreciated. Living in such close proximity to the People, Calvin was also able to sense their growing unease. The Sands had always been a harsh homeland, but the general consensus seemed to be that the climate was becoming progressively less hospitable. The few isolated visits from members of the Blue and Black Tribes and the agitation of the tribe's elders and leaders after holding meetings in their tents with these representatives offered further evidence that this problem - whatever it was - was real.
(OOC: Skilled, approved, cash doled out!)
[size=84][i]"She told me I had too much to dream last night..."[/i] - [i]Apprentice of the Universe[/i], Pure Reason Revolution
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
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Guest
Despite her brief affair with the young scout, Arigha could not be dissuaded from striking out on her own once the caravan reached Sabata. In a very short time the city grew on her in a way she had not expected. For most of her short life she had felt divided in two: the girl of tradition and the wild dancer. At home, she had always been conscious of this dual nature as something that separated her from the rest of the tribe. But here was a city that shared her dual nature: the ways of the People met with those of the merchants and city folk.
She struggled at first to find a place. Keeping to the Native Quarter and the Market, she earned coins here and there playing her flute for those passing on the street. It is there that she met the old tribesman and astrologer Jubai. The soothsayer took an interest in Arigha after hearing her play some of her original music based upon the sandstorms. At first the dancer and would-be scout found his interest disconcerting. His knack of predicting small things and habit of posing riddles as conversation were not very endearing. But with each conversation, Arigha found that she did indeed learn something and her mind, and more importantly her confidence, became stronger for it.
Through Jubai's contacts, Arigha managed to meet "the right people" to secure her first performance contracts at some of the taverns, notably the Red Djinn (its name summoned memories of the encounter at the Dragon's Backbone, but its patrons were nowhere near as foreboding), less notably a few dives. Arigha's mix of traditional and original songs was generally well-received. Sometimes her songs and dances were met with thoughtful expressions rather than applause, but she chose to interpret that as a good thing. And indeed it was, for it made a reputation for the novice performer. Combined with her skill at fending off unwanted advances with good humor and a smile (and with a few well-chosen bedpartners) her unique style soon had her performing at that pinnacle of loacl culture, The Barbed Poet.
Still, there was wanderlust within the desert daughter, a longing to travel the sands on a more regular basis. Returning to the caravan folk with whom she had journeyed to Sabata, Arigha hired herself out as a beasthandler and scout for short trips. Alternating desert journey with performances, she found a balance between her city and desert life.
Skill points:
Playing Musical instrument[flute]: +**
Dancing: +**
Animal Handling:+***
Weather and Climate Lore: +***
She struggled at first to find a place. Keeping to the Native Quarter and the Market, she earned coins here and there playing her flute for those passing on the street. It is there that she met the old tribesman and astrologer Jubai. The soothsayer took an interest in Arigha after hearing her play some of her original music based upon the sandstorms. At first the dancer and would-be scout found his interest disconcerting. His knack of predicting small things and habit of posing riddles as conversation were not very endearing. But with each conversation, Arigha found that she did indeed learn something and her mind, and more importantly her confidence, became stronger for it.
Through Jubai's contacts, Arigha managed to meet "the right people" to secure her first performance contracts at some of the taverns, notably the Red Djinn (its name summoned memories of the encounter at the Dragon's Backbone, but its patrons were nowhere near as foreboding), less notably a few dives. Arigha's mix of traditional and original songs was generally well-received. Sometimes her songs and dances were met with thoughtful expressions rather than applause, but she chose to interpret that as a good thing. And indeed it was, for it made a reputation for the novice performer. Combined with her skill at fending off unwanted advances with good humor and a smile (and with a few well-chosen bedpartners) her unique style soon had her performing at that pinnacle of loacl culture, The Barbed Poet.
Still, there was wanderlust within the desert daughter, a longing to travel the sands on a more regular basis. Returning to the caravan folk with whom she had journeyed to Sabata, Arigha hired herself out as a beasthandler and scout for short trips. Alternating desert journey with performances, she found a balance between her city and desert life.
Skill points:
Playing Musical instrument[flute]: +**
Dancing: +**
Animal Handling:+***
Weather and Climate Lore: +***
(OOC: You're cleared and ready to start in Chyril! Any questions, just PM. )
Life in Sabata, with its dense and diverse population, could hardly have been more different from the nomadic life of the desert tribes. Nevertheless, it had its own advantages, and one of them was a good number of ready audiences for Arigha's art. Although the patrons of some of the first places she played were more interested in ogling and heckling than in taking any notice of the actual music, it did not take her long to find places such as the Barbed Poet where there was a definite market for serious and different acts. She became a semi-regular performer there, even though her frequent disappearances into the desert caused the organisers of the place's programme some grief, as they would have liked her to be available on call more often.
The Eastern Sands Trading Company, who operated the caravan Arigha had travelled with, were always on the lookout for people to tend their animals, and paid good money for her participation in trips out to the Company's suppliers in the desert. These trips were not always uneventful; many were attacked, or at least threatened, by groups of brigands, and the caravans' complements of guards became steadily larger. During one of these trips Arigha noticed H'saan, the half-giant surgeon, also employed by the Company, although the different roles of the two meant that they did not get a chance to speak to one another.
)
Life in Sabata, with its dense and diverse population, could hardly have been more different from the nomadic life of the desert tribes. Nevertheless, it had its own advantages, and one of them was a good number of ready audiences for Arigha's art. Although the patrons of some of the first places she played were more interested in ogling and heckling than in taking any notice of the actual music, it did not take her long to find places such as the Barbed Poet where there was a definite market for serious and different acts. She became a semi-regular performer there, even though her frequent disappearances into the desert caused the organisers of the place's programme some grief, as they would have liked her to be available on call more often.
The Eastern Sands Trading Company, who operated the caravan Arigha had travelled with, were always on the lookout for people to tend their animals, and paid good money for her participation in trips out to the Company's suppliers in the desert. These trips were not always uneventful; many were attacked, or at least threatened, by groups of brigands, and the caravans' complements of guards became steadily larger. During one of these trips Arigha noticed H'saan, the half-giant surgeon, also employed by the Company, although the different roles of the two meant that they did not get a chance to speak to one another.
[size=84][i]"She told me I had too much to dream last night..."[/i] - [i]Apprentice of the Universe[/i], Pure Reason Revolution
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
Jadmai recruited mercenaries with money he would hopefully procure from Ionis. He also would continue to shadow not the First Councilor, but the Amunic looking women he was with—he seemed to collect them, so chances were good that Neus had run into him.
For now, he could see no more actions he could do, he knew he must simply wait. So, he put Rabiah in charge telling her all that Taymar had told him. He then walked the city himself trying to find the ins and outs. When satisfied he would go back to the embassy, and watch the workers toil. He figured he had time until any of the actions he put forth went into effect, so he decided to portal back to Amun Rah to visit with Ionis, and continue their discussions on the nature of men. He stayed their a great wile, during the days he would practice different uses for his daggers—two weapon, throwing, etc.
Jadmai had enough of the desert, and now he was about to tell a King, what he would prefer to do. He wanted a different assignment, in the isles. He would ask Ionis to send him to the Citadel.
At least, that was the plan. He asked spefically if there was any business to be done in the Citadel, as he voiced that he would be going to the Citadel, he had done a lot for Ionis--he just wanted his pay and his blessing. He would even reliquish his title for a new one of say emissary, or perhaps even none at all.
skills:
Diplomacy: ****
Rote Memory: **
Two weapon fighting: **
Leadership: **
For now, he could see no more actions he could do, he knew he must simply wait. So, he put Rabiah in charge telling her all that Taymar had told him. He then walked the city himself trying to find the ins and outs. When satisfied he would go back to the embassy, and watch the workers toil. He figured he had time until any of the actions he put forth went into effect, so he decided to portal back to Amun Rah to visit with Ionis, and continue their discussions on the nature of men. He stayed their a great wile, during the days he would practice different uses for his daggers—two weapon, throwing, etc.
Jadmai had enough of the desert, and now he was about to tell a King, what he would prefer to do. He wanted a different assignment, in the isles. He would ask Ionis to send him to the Citadel.
At least, that was the plan. He asked spefically if there was any business to be done in the Citadel, as he voiced that he would be going to the Citadel, he had done a lot for Ionis--he just wanted his pay and his blessing. He would even reliquish his title for a new one of say emissary, or perhaps even none at all.
skills:
Diplomacy: ****
Rote Memory: **
Two weapon fighting: **
Leadership: **
Last edited by Jadmai on Fri Apr 13, 2007 1:56 pm, edited 2 times in total.
"...war is the last flower on the evil tree."-- Betrand Russel
(OOC: Apologies for the delay on this - and apologies for the lack of resolution on this plot. I wasn't expecting a Super Sync-sized spanner to be thrown in the works!
Good luck in the Citadel, and you're welcome to drop back at any time.)
Progress in Sabata was slow for the nascent Amunic Embassy. Jadmai and his spymistress were easily able to ascertain that behind the attacks on Amunic operations stood the largest faction in the Council, that of First Councilor Ramessu, which also included the city's guard force. However, making progress beyond this was difficult. Ramessu's faction as good as refused to acknowledge the embassy, and Harkhebi's guards seemed to get in their way as often as they could. Money from Ionis enabled Jadmai to hire mercenaries to shore up his operations, but it was only enough to put a guard on the building itself and to maintain a general foothold in the city.
As for Neus, a likely candidate was identified on a few occasions, but never without an entourage of guards. Her base was seen to be at Ramessu's estate, a tightly run complex some way to the south of the city where the security was said to be fearsome. In short, much of the information Jadmai had required was available, but acting on it was extremely difficult. It was a frustrating situation.
Good luck in the Citadel, and you're welcome to drop back at any time.)
Progress in Sabata was slow for the nascent Amunic Embassy. Jadmai and his spymistress were easily able to ascertain that behind the attacks on Amunic operations stood the largest faction in the Council, that of First Councilor Ramessu, which also included the city's guard force. However, making progress beyond this was difficult. Ramessu's faction as good as refused to acknowledge the embassy, and Harkhebi's guards seemed to get in their way as often as they could. Money from Ionis enabled Jadmai to hire mercenaries to shore up his operations, but it was only enough to put a guard on the building itself and to maintain a general foothold in the city.
As for Neus, a likely candidate was identified on a few occasions, but never without an entourage of guards. Her base was seen to be at Ramessu's estate, a tightly run complex some way to the south of the city where the security was said to be fearsome. In short, much of the information Jadmai had required was available, but acting on it was extremely difficult. It was a frustrating situation.
[size=84][i]"She told me I had too much to dream last night..."[/i] - [i]Apprentice of the Universe[/i], Pure Reason Revolution
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
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Guest
Domino had not been long in Sabata before (horror of all horrors) a friend of a friend of a friend informed her mother, Angelica Cole, of her daughter's reappearance. Thwarted from her plans to follow rumours of the Philosopher's Stone and discover if there was any truth in them, the young tradeswoman was picked up outside the Barbed Poet by a tall and handsome young man and dragged unceremoniously home to face the music.
Listening to her mother's seemingly endless tirade on responsibility, good manners, whatever would your father have thought? and what by Dominicus have you done to your hair?!... this would have been bad enough, but Domino soon discovered it was far, far worse. It appeared primary on her mother's long list of woes was the very inconsiderate thing her father had done, which was to pass away, the victim of bandits on a caravan train headed west for Dragonskeep. He had left the family (such as it was) with a very modest sum of gold and the little house Angelica (his wife) had always occupied. Domino silently thought, as her mother ranted on and on, that perhaps he had had a narrow escape. She discovered shortly afterwards that the handsome man who had collected her and brought her home (with no small amount of force) was her mother's newly taken lover.
Homelife little changed, then, Domino felt a strong urge to quit the place once more and travel west on the next caravan, abandoning all hopes of discovering the source of the rumours of the Philosopher's Stone. It was a hard choice, but one she felt perfectly happy to make in the face of Angelica's renewed enthusiasm for motherhood. She would mirror her actions of four years ago and escape. This was easier said than done, however, for Angelica felt it wise not to make the same mistake again! and made certain that Domino was closely watched. She felt much as a prisoner might, escorted everywhere by her mother's lover and barely allowed out of his sight to use the toilet. At least he did not speak overmuch, but then, Domino supposed, her mother did enough of that for both of them.
She speaks enough for everyone in Sabata combined... the rest of us may as well take a vow of silence...! This thought came to her, almost two and a half months later, while she was busily climbing out of a third-floor bathroom window. He was not a particularly bright man, this motherfucker, and for that she felt faintly glad as she clamboured up to the roof, almost losing her grip several times. Well... at least if I fall I won't have to listen to another talk on the proper clothes one should wear! Damned heels... can't climb in heels... The heels in question promptly hit the dusty street beneath, almost braining a passing dog, who took them to be a chew-toy from the gods and, overjoyed, took them away to somewhere quiet for closer study. The first thing I shall do is ditch this ridiculous dress... Barefoot on the rooftop, Domino paused to catch her breath and enjoy the view, wondering precisely what to do next? It would not do to leave without all of her things - well, those things her mother had not disposed of for being too dirty or just innappropriate, with mild cries of, ugh! darling!...
Daring rooftop escape complete, Domino promptly laid low in the most obscure places she could think of for the following two weeks, doing her very best to stay out of the sight and hearing of anyone who might report her whereabouts to her family. It was a terrible thing to have to do, but regretably necessary - as was breaking into the old family home to retrieve her worn backpack and belongings, as well as a keepsake or two for memory; she did not intend to return.
This note left under a large marble paperweight in a place her mother could not fail to find it, Domino promptly stole away into the night, her feet at last back in her comfortable boots. Now, to either quit this city promptly, or, if I must stay, then to stay away from her as long as possible. Bless her heart, she drives me insane...
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OOC: Please allocate skills as you see fit, oh beardy one! :)
Listening to her mother's seemingly endless tirade on responsibility, good manners, whatever would your father have thought? and what by Dominicus have you done to your hair?!... this would have been bad enough, but Domino soon discovered it was far, far worse. It appeared primary on her mother's long list of woes was the very inconsiderate thing her father had done, which was to pass away, the victim of bandits on a caravan train headed west for Dragonskeep. He had left the family (such as it was) with a very modest sum of gold and the little house Angelica (his wife) had always occupied. Domino silently thought, as her mother ranted on and on, that perhaps he had had a narrow escape. She discovered shortly afterwards that the handsome man who had collected her and brought her home (with no small amount of force) was her mother's newly taken lover.
Homelife little changed, then, Domino felt a strong urge to quit the place once more and travel west on the next caravan, abandoning all hopes of discovering the source of the rumours of the Philosopher's Stone. It was a hard choice, but one she felt perfectly happy to make in the face of Angelica's renewed enthusiasm for motherhood. She would mirror her actions of four years ago and escape. This was easier said than done, however, for Angelica felt it wise not to make the same mistake again! and made certain that Domino was closely watched. She felt much as a prisoner might, escorted everywhere by her mother's lover and barely allowed out of his sight to use the toilet. At least he did not speak overmuch, but then, Domino supposed, her mother did enough of that for both of them.
She speaks enough for everyone in Sabata combined... the rest of us may as well take a vow of silence...! This thought came to her, almost two and a half months later, while she was busily climbing out of a third-floor bathroom window. He was not a particularly bright man, this motherfucker, and for that she felt faintly glad as she clamboured up to the roof, almost losing her grip several times. Well... at least if I fall I won't have to listen to another talk on the proper clothes one should wear! Damned heels... can't climb in heels... The heels in question promptly hit the dusty street beneath, almost braining a passing dog, who took them to be a chew-toy from the gods and, overjoyed, took them away to somewhere quiet for closer study. The first thing I shall do is ditch this ridiculous dress... Barefoot on the rooftop, Domino paused to catch her breath and enjoy the view, wondering precisely what to do next? It would not do to leave without all of her things - well, those things her mother had not disposed of for being too dirty or just innappropriate, with mild cries of, ugh! darling!...
Daring rooftop escape complete, Domino promptly laid low in the most obscure places she could think of for the following two weeks, doing her very best to stay out of the sight and hearing of anyone who might report her whereabouts to her family. It was a terrible thing to have to do, but regretably necessary - as was breaking into the old family home to retrieve her worn backpack and belongings, as well as a keepsake or two for memory; she did not intend to return.
Domino wrote:Dearest mother,
It has, as ever, been a pleasure and a joy. I am sorry to have to do this to you once again, but I must report our time together over once more. If you must place blame, lay it at the feet of my beloved father, may his soul rest - it is from his blood I must have gained this terrible wanderlust.
All my love to you and... wassisname. I wish you both well. Until the next time,
- Domino
This note left under a large marble paperweight in a place her mother could not fail to find it, Domino promptly stole away into the night, her feet at last back in her comfortable boots. Now, to either quit this city promptly, or, if I must stay, then to stay away from her as long as possible. Bless her heart, she drives me insane...
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OOC: Please allocate skills as you see fit, oh beardy one! :)
The winter months in Sabata were...not entirely unlike the Summer months in Sabata, with nights that brought a heart-stopping, dry freeze and days that brought bright, blistering, gritty heat....that was also dry. Bound at home, Domino was subjected to endless displays of her mother's frantic frustrations of how she would EVER get such a girl married!, which was her intention for the intemperate youth. Despite the difficulty of the task, she tackled it with the kind of enthusiasm that clearly demonstrated some kind of ulterior motive...the kind of motive that must have been very financial, given the number of suggestive introductions to various wealthy, eligible bachelors between the ages of fifty and...well...up.
It was with a false sense of confidence (and a strong sense of her new lover) that Angelica overlooked Domino's preparation...and execution...of her escape, a false sense built by weeks of practicing such mind-numbing and dull exercises as sewing, cooking, dancing, and personal preening, all arranged by her dear mother to help make the young creature more marriageable. And so, it was a more marriageable Domino Cole that slipped out of the third story window of their new home in the wealthy district of Sabata, escaping the house with nothing to show for the last three months...save a few more coins and a fine education in being a "lady".
(OOC: skillings to come...feel free to start where you wish!)
It was with a false sense of confidence (and a strong sense of her new lover) that Angelica overlooked Domino's preparation...and execution...of her escape, a false sense built by weeks of practicing such mind-numbing and dull exercises as sewing, cooking, dancing, and personal preening, all arranged by her dear mother to help make the young creature more marriageable. And so, it was a more marriageable Domino Cole that slipped out of the third story window of their new home in the wealthy district of Sabata, escaping the house with nothing to show for the last three months...save a few more coins and a fine education in being a "lady".
(OOC: skillings to come...feel free to start where you wish!)
Maeve: It starts with ambition
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant