His eyes snapped open as he sat upright.
"Dusquene!" the large black-skinned man shouted as his whole body tensed, eyes flickering wildly. Rather, he tried to sit upright. Pain flared throughout his body, enough to force him back to a lying position. It took a long moment to calm himself enough to relax. He glanced about the room weakly as the adrenaline drained from his body. He was still weak, and he knew it. But there was one thing he'd been without for far too long...
His thick, muscular limb reached out, shaking and wavering, towards the gleaming item on the table next to him. He must've been out for a while, if he was this shaky. A plate of food--an unidentifiable meat of some kind--that was once piping hot but had long since faded to lukewarm and now bordered on cold rested on the same table, delivered by one of the serving folk while he slept. Food was not why he was shaking, however, and he knew it. He had gone days without food in the past...but not without what rest inside the gleaming item his hand finally, after a few seconds of trial and error, closed around. Gratefully his hand slipped back to the bed, taking the object with it. He unscrewed the cap and sniffed the contents. Perfect.
Raising his head so as not to choke on it, he let some of the contents drain down his throat and to his belly. He felt it warm immediately, and nary an instant later felt his tremors fade. His head fell back, expelling a deep breath as he did so with a satisfactory noise. He relished in the fiery liquid a moment longer before taking another long swig from the flask. Rescrewing the cap, he swung his legs around and sat upright, wincing as he did so. He still felt rather tender, but all things considered the bulky man would rather be tender then dead, like everyone else.
Like Dusquene.
He'd only barely limped to the Mouth with a few companions who'd survived the raid to collapse at the gates. Behn was the only one who could afford treatment, after which he had come here, to one of the shadier inns in East Arch. The location was hardly first-class accommodations, but he felt more comfortable here then he ever would in a high-class inn or at a manor.
Not like he could afford one anyway.
With another wince he stood. He still favored his left leg, but it wouldn't be overmuch of a hindrance. Another unscrewing of the cap, another swig, and he could hardly feel the pain. It wasn't until his first two needs--sleep and alcohol--had been met that Behn realized how insatiably hungry he really was. He reached for the plate of food and began unceremoniously shoveling bite after bite into his overlarge mouth. He'd never really been an 'artful eater', instead having been compared more then once to a savage as opposed to a man. In no time at all the plate had been consumed, and he was mopping what was left of gravy off the plate with the hunk of dry, crusty bread. Polishing that off and finishing with one final swig from his flask, he began to dress.
If daylight, stomach, and tremors were any judge, he'd have to say it was already the twenty-third. Morningtide, by the sounds of things. He'd paid up the room at the inn for a solid week, and by his estimation, he'd spent two of them just sleeping solid. Two whole days without his precious firewater. Unconscionable.
Once he'd dressed appropriately--black tunic, black trousers, black boots, black cloak, black belt, and sinister-looking expression--he left most of his things in his room save his dagger, at home in its sheath, and his coinpurse just in case. His flask was tucked quite safely away in one of his boots, ready for an emergency swig if necessary. His eyes roamed over the smooth, polished longbow left to him by Dusquene for a long moment, resting still strung beside the old mercenary's quiver, before turning away.
Eventually he might take it up once more...but for now it was too soon, and waltzing around town with a bow strapped to his back for no reason did seem kind of silly.
He snatched up the key and stepped outside, locking the door, before slipping the key into one of his numerous pouches. He'd paid extra to make sure his items didn't get stolen...a necessary step in the East Arch, but one he was well used to after having spent most of his life at Nether's Gate. As such, he was relatively confident his items would remain secure, and that he didn't need to worry about coming back to find his door 'haphazardly' left unlocked and all his things vanished.
With a sly grin he quietly slipped down the stairs and gave a mild wave of acknowledgement to the clerk as he passed wordlessly through the threshold of the Manacled Dancer Inn. He'd heard the evening shows were to die for. Maybe worth checking out later...but for now...for now the thug had work to do. Connections to form, innocents to rob, people to terrify, and so forth. He needed to make a name for himself. As he perused the streets for likely victims--constantly double-checking his own items, knowing full well what areas like the East Arch were like--he debated on how to quickest find a job as a brute for some gang or another.
It would likely prove to be an interesting day.
A New Home (East Arch; Chyril 23rd, MT)
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Guest
A New Home (East Arch; Chyril 23rd, MT)
Last edited by Guest on Thu Sep 06, 2007 10:18 pm, edited 4 times in total.
Nestled directly between Southbridge and the Seams, East Arch was little more than a low, swampy little island isolated from both boroughs by a thin inlet of the Lower Scillus River. It was connected to both boroughs on either side by a bridge on the west end, called the "Hammer", and a bridge on the east, known as the "Anvil". The inlet of water continued to reach into land until it became the Vedicus canal, sweeping its majestic path through the city to provide the means by which sanitation and transportation could be maintained, feeding and being fed by countless smaller canals along the way. While Southbridge and the Seams shared the Vedicus as their mutual border for much of their width as the canal ran northwest, East Arch formed the southern most span of that waterway, and it was nominally considered the "head" of the Vedicus Canal.
And it was here that law stopped. East Arch was infamous for thugs, thieves, mercenaries, harlots, drug dens, fencers, forgers, and every other vice imaginable in a city were the law was easily and frequently flaunted in favor of base profit. Occupied by the most savage of the Mouth's residents, the Arch, as it was commonly known to locals, was a fine place to go during the daylight for those seeking the exotic excesses of humanity, like any other part of Southbridge. However, in the evening marks of the day, the Arch was often enough a violent, dangerous place. So dangerous in fact, that when any body was found floating in the Vedicus Canal... a frustratingly common state of affairs... the victim was often said to have been "Archied" out of respect for the tough, cruel neighborhood on and around that area.
Often submerged when the Lower Scillus rose, very little of East Arch actually rested upon the stretch of land between the Hammer and the Anvil. This land, always swampy and uncertain, was given over to carts, stalls, tents, and shacks of rude construction, with only a few permanent structures that survived by virtue of their elevated constructions or their heavy, stone foundations that reached down far enough to find the bedrock beneath. The bulk of the population in East Arch actually lived on either of the two bridges themselves, for while the bridges were once graceful spans that curved over the inlet... hence the name... they had long since been rebuilt as low, squat, ugly bridges with wide supports that could hold the veritable town of buildings that had since been built upon their broad shoulders.
The Manacled Dancer was located on the Anvil, bordered on three sides by the narrow, twisting street that crossed the great bridge. Once it had been a broad road, but decades of disorganised and unplanned building had left the street barely able to accommodate a small cart at its narrowest point.
Most of the residents of East Arch had to look elsewhere for their marks. The only non-criminals who lived in the quarter were those who could not afford to move out, and therefore possessed little worth taking. The criminals of the Arch tended to prowl the slightly wealthier East End or Southbridge, or even the Silver District and Highton if they were confident that they could evade the increased legion presence there.
One street corner held the representatives of the law in the East Arch. Six bored-looking men in off-white tabards were chatting and exchanging news. The Biancairre legion, or the Whites, as they were known, were charged with maintaining some semblance of order in Southbridge and the Arch, and only kept to their charge by being uncompromisingly ruthless and amoral. Six was the smallest number they'd usually be seen travelling in, as they were hated and despised by the criminals of the quarter. They made no effort to hide what they were saying, though.
"...Hart dead, and maybe this place will take a turn for the better," one was musing.
Another laughed. "I'm just waiting to see who will take his place..."
No one ruled East Arch, but it did have a king, and his name was Hieronymous Hart, a name that it was impossible to avoid hearing among the criminals of the Mouth. For yahren he'd been top dog in the underworld, holding his position through virtue of his connection to the mysterious crime lord Simalde and through no small amount of personal charisma and brutality. But now, it seemed, he was dead. And so there was a power vacuum of sorts.
Just down the street were a few shops. A pawnbroker's, and a fly-infested butcher's shop. There was another tavern, too, this one without any sort of name, just a sign above the door indicating that some form of alcohol was to be found within. Outside a scarred, ugly woman was negotiating with a beggar, and a man in brown leathers was using his heels to guide a roan horse down the street. A parapet afforded a glimpse of the murky, slow-flowing Scillus below.
And it was here that law stopped. East Arch was infamous for thugs, thieves, mercenaries, harlots, drug dens, fencers, forgers, and every other vice imaginable in a city were the law was easily and frequently flaunted in favor of base profit. Occupied by the most savage of the Mouth's residents, the Arch, as it was commonly known to locals, was a fine place to go during the daylight for those seeking the exotic excesses of humanity, like any other part of Southbridge. However, in the evening marks of the day, the Arch was often enough a violent, dangerous place. So dangerous in fact, that when any body was found floating in the Vedicus Canal... a frustratingly common state of affairs... the victim was often said to have been "Archied" out of respect for the tough, cruel neighborhood on and around that area.
Often submerged when the Lower Scillus rose, very little of East Arch actually rested upon the stretch of land between the Hammer and the Anvil. This land, always swampy and uncertain, was given over to carts, stalls, tents, and shacks of rude construction, with only a few permanent structures that survived by virtue of their elevated constructions or their heavy, stone foundations that reached down far enough to find the bedrock beneath. The bulk of the population in East Arch actually lived on either of the two bridges themselves, for while the bridges were once graceful spans that curved over the inlet... hence the name... they had long since been rebuilt as low, squat, ugly bridges with wide supports that could hold the veritable town of buildings that had since been built upon their broad shoulders.
The Manacled Dancer was located on the Anvil, bordered on three sides by the narrow, twisting street that crossed the great bridge. Once it had been a broad road, but decades of disorganised and unplanned building had left the street barely able to accommodate a small cart at its narrowest point.
Most of the residents of East Arch had to look elsewhere for their marks. The only non-criminals who lived in the quarter were those who could not afford to move out, and therefore possessed little worth taking. The criminals of the Arch tended to prowl the slightly wealthier East End or Southbridge, or even the Silver District and Highton if they were confident that they could evade the increased legion presence there.
One street corner held the representatives of the law in the East Arch. Six bored-looking men in off-white tabards were chatting and exchanging news. The Biancairre legion, or the Whites, as they were known, were charged with maintaining some semblance of order in Southbridge and the Arch, and only kept to their charge by being uncompromisingly ruthless and amoral. Six was the smallest number they'd usually be seen travelling in, as they were hated and despised by the criminals of the quarter. They made no effort to hide what they were saying, though.
"...Hart dead, and maybe this place will take a turn for the better," one was musing.
Another laughed. "I'm just waiting to see who will take his place..."
No one ruled East Arch, but it did have a king, and his name was Hieronymous Hart, a name that it was impossible to avoid hearing among the criminals of the Mouth. For yahren he'd been top dog in the underworld, holding his position through virtue of his connection to the mysterious crime lord Simalde and through no small amount of personal charisma and brutality. But now, it seemed, he was dead. And so there was a power vacuum of sorts.
Just down the street were a few shops. A pawnbroker's, and a fly-infested butcher's shop. There was another tavern, too, this one without any sort of name, just a sign above the door indicating that some form of alcohol was to be found within. Outside a scarred, ugly woman was negotiating with a beggar, and a man in brown leathers was using his heels to guide a roan horse down the street. A parapet afforded a glimpse of the murky, slow-flowing Scillus below.
[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
Sadly, it was as the ugly thug--thugly?--had predicted. Few people with coinpurses ajingling walked this side of the city, else other people who were like-minded to Behn would do similar things to what he himself was thinking. With a slight sigh, knowing there was no harm in hoping, he continued to wander the area, knowing that what one gathered from conversations could, sometimes, but just as if not more valuable then the contents of people's purse.
Behn was not opposed to such villianous acts as frequently occurred in East Arch, and knew all too well that if there was information to be bought and sold that one probably shouldn't know, if there was anywhere in the Mouth to acquire it, it was here. So, while wandering and hoping for some sign or word of work or somesuch--bodyguarding or otherwise--he stumbled upon a conversation between the six Whites that had come into the Arch probably to not get caught goofing off while looking brave. Still, while he knew not to mess with the legion, he did listen to what the gathered soldiers were saying.
Hieronymous Hart? Dead? Now that was interesting news indeed. In his continuous caravans to and from the Mouth, he'd heard the name on several occasions. Enough to know the basic scuttlebutt about him. For someone who'd been at the top for yahren to eat it meant that there would be people struggling for power...and where there were people struggling for power, there were people trying to bolster their numbers...and where there were people trying to bolster their numbers, there was banner to be made as one of the numbers.
Oh, Behn had no delusions. He knew he wasn't nearly qualified enough nor had enough power--if any at all--to vie for Hart's spot as Simalde's top lackey...but those that were jockeying for the spot might be looking for a little extra muscle. Now the task truly fell to finding out who those candidates were and which, of those candidates, was the winning team worth backing.
Back the right horse when the chips are down and the big bet is on the table--to mix gambling metaphors--and it could pay off as being owed. And being owed a favor from a powerful person was an ace anyone would want up their sleeve.
And now, for whatever reason, Behn felt like playing a card game.
Shaking that thought aside, he considered how best to approach the situation. He considered what was nearby. The broker, the butcher, the tavern, the ugly woman and the beggar, and the horseman. The horseman might have been worth trying to take had the Whites not been nearby. Afterall, having a mount was costly...which could mean deep pockets. But the Whites were, in fact, there. He considered trying to glean information from the broker or the taverngoers, but he knew of a much, much better source.
Anyone worth their salt knew that if you were looking for information, beggars were the diamonds in the rough. They offered it for cheap, and usually had information not even the most powerful man in the city would have...unless he was smart and bought it from the beggar for cheap.
Armed with this knowledge, he approached the ugly woman and the beggar. He made it seem as though he were simply out for a stroll, and as he grew close he tried to listen to what the two could possibly be negotiating, and if it would beneficial or detrimental to interrupt such.
Behn was not opposed to such villianous acts as frequently occurred in East Arch, and knew all too well that if there was information to be bought and sold that one probably shouldn't know, if there was anywhere in the Mouth to acquire it, it was here. So, while wandering and hoping for some sign or word of work or somesuch--bodyguarding or otherwise--he stumbled upon a conversation between the six Whites that had come into the Arch probably to not get caught goofing off while looking brave. Still, while he knew not to mess with the legion, he did listen to what the gathered soldiers were saying.
Hieronymous Hart? Dead? Now that was interesting news indeed. In his continuous caravans to and from the Mouth, he'd heard the name on several occasions. Enough to know the basic scuttlebutt about him. For someone who'd been at the top for yahren to eat it meant that there would be people struggling for power...and where there were people struggling for power, there were people trying to bolster their numbers...and where there were people trying to bolster their numbers, there was banner to be made as one of the numbers.
Oh, Behn had no delusions. He knew he wasn't nearly qualified enough nor had enough power--if any at all--to vie for Hart's spot as Simalde's top lackey...but those that were jockeying for the spot might be looking for a little extra muscle. Now the task truly fell to finding out who those candidates were and which, of those candidates, was the winning team worth backing.
Back the right horse when the chips are down and the big bet is on the table--to mix gambling metaphors--and it could pay off as being owed. And being owed a favor from a powerful person was an ace anyone would want up their sleeve.
And now, for whatever reason, Behn felt like playing a card game.
Shaking that thought aside, he considered how best to approach the situation. He considered what was nearby. The broker, the butcher, the tavern, the ugly woman and the beggar, and the horseman. The horseman might have been worth trying to take had the Whites not been nearby. Afterall, having a mount was costly...which could mean deep pockets. But the Whites were, in fact, there. He considered trying to glean information from the broker or the taverngoers, but he knew of a much, much better source.
Anyone worth their salt knew that if you were looking for information, beggars were the diamonds in the rough. They offered it for cheap, and usually had information not even the most powerful man in the city would have...unless he was smart and bought it from the beggar for cheap.
Armed with this knowledge, he approached the ugly woman and the beggar. He made it seem as though he were simply out for a stroll, and as he grew close he tried to listen to what the two could possibly be negotiating, and if it would beneficial or detrimental to interrupt such.
Last edited by Guest on Tue Sep 11, 2007 9:25 am, edited 1 time in total.
"...said I'd give you a lance if you could TELL me anything new, but I bet you weren't even there," the ugly woman snarled. Her mousy hair was tousled into a collection of unwanted dreadlocks. "You've told me nothing, so no lance. Ultima parola."
"I was there," the beggar responded. He was a hairy, greying fellow with a skeletal build. "And I'll tell you something for free. Alvero seemed to be the big winner, but he's not interested in crime, they say. So Remmel will come out on top. He's already taken over the Punt Den, and it's open for business already. Buut... maybe Dante will move in. Or the damn pointy-ears from the West End. But probably Dante."
"Cazzata. Anyone coulda told me that," retorted the woman. "Here, have a banner. It's the most you're worth." She flicked the coin into his lap and spat at his feet, brushing the hair out of her eyes as she marched off.
Neither had noticed Behn's interest in what was being said.
"I was there," the beggar responded. He was a hairy, greying fellow with a skeletal build. "And I'll tell you something for free. Alvero seemed to be the big winner, but he's not interested in crime, they say. So Remmel will come out on top. He's already taken over the Punt Den, and it's open for business already. Buut... maybe Dante will move in. Or the damn pointy-ears from the West End. But probably Dante."
"Cazzata. Anyone coulda told me that," retorted the woman. "Here, have a banner. It's the most you're worth." She flicked the coin into his lap and spat at his feet, brushing the hair out of her eyes as she marched off.
Neither had noticed Behn's interest in what was being said.
[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
As he approached, listening intently, he found himself intrigued by the information he was already gleaning, and he hadn't had to pay a single banner thus far.
The ugly woman was not to Behn's taste--but alas, how often was 'pig-ugly' anyone's taste?--though granted he was no real prize himself. He listened to her verbally abuse the beggar, and he still try and recover the coin promised for his information. Ultimately, with only a single banner earned for his trouble, she stormed off. Behn double-checked his own disparaging funds curiously before trying to cut a deal with the information peddler.
The names he was speaking Behn recognized vaguely, having heard on one occasion or another about their activities.
He approached the gaunt man outright, holding two lance--spread a bit to make it clear they were two coins rather then one--in his hand, pincered between his middle and forefinger, and his thumb.
"I will pay you either way, so long as I get the answer to two questions from you," he started, knowing that with that approach, the Beggar had no need to try and trick him in any fashion. Behn didn't have much, but he could easily spare two lance for now, even if the information proved to be faulty...though he sincerely hoped it wasn't, as even a single wasted banner was one sorely lost by the thug. Sure, he could have tried to rough up the beggar, but beggars, as information peddlers went, were people you wanted to stay on the good side of, as they have nothing to lose by feeding you bad information that could get you ruined or killed. If they're grateful, however, they might be inclined to give good information, especially if prospects are high that one might return to re-use their services.
"Dante or Remmel...who's the favorite? And that favorite...where can I find their operation?" Just so the beggar knew and was enticed to answer true, he added, "I might have need of your services in the future if you steer me rightly." He'd heard some of the language of the Mouth, and knew it would be beneficial to pick some up...most of what he knew so far were simple curses and name-calling, though he'd work on picking up the other details soon enough. Hopefully, before too long, he'd sound like a native.
The ugly woman was not to Behn's taste--but alas, how often was 'pig-ugly' anyone's taste?--though granted he was no real prize himself. He listened to her verbally abuse the beggar, and he still try and recover the coin promised for his information. Ultimately, with only a single banner earned for his trouble, she stormed off. Behn double-checked his own disparaging funds curiously before trying to cut a deal with the information peddler.
The names he was speaking Behn recognized vaguely, having heard on one occasion or another about their activities.
He approached the gaunt man outright, holding two lance--spread a bit to make it clear they were two coins rather then one--in his hand, pincered between his middle and forefinger, and his thumb.
"I will pay you either way, so long as I get the answer to two questions from you," he started, knowing that with that approach, the Beggar had no need to try and trick him in any fashion. Behn didn't have much, but he could easily spare two lance for now, even if the information proved to be faulty...though he sincerely hoped it wasn't, as even a single wasted banner was one sorely lost by the thug. Sure, he could have tried to rough up the beggar, but beggars, as information peddlers went, were people you wanted to stay on the good side of, as they have nothing to lose by feeding you bad information that could get you ruined or killed. If they're grateful, however, they might be inclined to give good information, especially if prospects are high that one might return to re-use their services.
"Dante or Remmel...who's the favorite? And that favorite...where can I find their operation?" Just so the beggar knew and was enticed to answer true, he added, "I might have need of your services in the future if you steer me rightly." He'd heard some of the language of the Mouth, and knew it would be beneficial to pick some up...most of what he knew so far were simple curses and name-calling, though he'd work on picking up the other details soon enough. Hopefully, before too long, he'd sound like a native.
Last edited by Guest on Thu Sep 13, 2007 7:29 am, edited 1 time in total.
The untidy man hastily rearranged the blanket around him into a vague semblance of presentability and looked hungrily at the two coins. If Behn spoke true, with two lance he was a premium customer... and the promise of future "contracts" was the most enticing prospect of all. "Si, signore," he replied eagerly. "Remmel is favoured to take over from Hart. I've met him myself. He ain't a big, strong man like Hart, but he was one of his lieutenants, and he's fiendishly clever and cunning. I reckon he'll pull together the strands of Hart's operation if no one else gets there first. And if Dante doesn't move in. If Dante decides to take advantage of the situation, well, I don't honestly know, signore," he continued, shrugging. "He's into smuggling, mostly, in Northbridge, so we don't see much of him here. But he has a strong powerbase there, they say, and he may decide that now's his time." He shifted uneasily. He'd chosen honesty rather than trying to seem wiser than he was. Only time would tell if it was a wise decision with this customer.
"Remmel's based at the Punt Den, not far from here, in Southbridge," the man continued in answer to the second question. "And I've heard that Dante can sometimes be found a place called the Dockrose Tavern in Northbridge, near the waterfront. I hope that helps you, signore... you're a good man." The beggar smiled endearingly, revealing a mouth with few teeth remaining. "My name's Alberic. Round here they call me Smiley Alberic," he added as an afterthought.
"Remmel's based at the Punt Den, not far from here, in Southbridge," the man continued in answer to the second question. "And I've heard that Dante can sometimes be found a place called the Dockrose Tavern in Northbridge, near the waterfront. I hope that helps you, signore... you're a good man." The beggar smiled endearingly, revealing a mouth with few teeth remaining. "My name's Alberic. Round here they call me Smiley Alberic," he added as an afterthought.
[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
OOC: Sorry about the wait. been having some RL problems. The worst of the problems are gone, though, so I should be back to normal soon.
It was Behn's very nature, of course, to select the losing side. Psychologists could likely spend yahren studying his nature in awe, but strange it was. Not so much the 'losing side' per se, so much as 'the side still likely to win but needs the most help to do so' Thus, as was Behn's nature, he selected the one most likely, but would need the most help.
He grinned and nodded, slapping the two lance into the beggar's palm. He nodded, his grin widening...though it looked more like a leer, no matter how friendly he really was, his smile always seemed ominous. He spoke, his deep gravelly bass sounding quite pleased.
"Thanks. If this lead pans out, keep up the honesty and the information and we could have quite the friendship indeed, Smiley. Keep your ear to the ground on this subject, " He turned and headed in the direction he was pointed towards.
To the Punt Den. It was time he had a talk with Remmel.
OOC: Do you want me to move to a different thread or continue here? Up to you; I'll follow your lead. ^.^
It was Behn's very nature, of course, to select the losing side. Psychologists could likely spend yahren studying his nature in awe, but strange it was. Not so much the 'losing side' per se, so much as 'the side still likely to win but needs the most help to do so' Thus, as was Behn's nature, he selected the one most likely, but would need the most help.
He grinned and nodded, slapping the two lance into the beggar's palm. He nodded, his grin widening...though it looked more like a leer, no matter how friendly he really was, his smile always seemed ominous. He spoke, his deep gravelly bass sounding quite pleased.
"Thanks. If this lead pans out, keep up the honesty and the information and we could have quite the friendship indeed, Smiley. Keep your ear to the ground on this subject, " He turned and headed in the direction he was pointed towards.
To the Punt Den. It was time he had a talk with Remmel.
OOC: Do you want me to move to a different thread or continue here? Up to you; I'll follow your lead. ^.^
Last edited by Guest on Sun Sep 23, 2007 7:09 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Maeve
- The Dragon & Game Designer
- Posts: 15536
- Joined: Thu Oct 03, 2002 1:29 pm
- Location: The Netherlands
OOC: Dragon sailing in. I hope we shall write beautiful stories together signor. If you think I should do things differently be sure to tell me. Oh, and could you please not bold your text? It disturbs the flow of reading for me.
Yes, please, make a different thread. Mention continued in your subjetline to indicate the twist in your timeline as I see you are also at ET already, or do it the next day.
Yes, please, make a different thread. Mention continued in your subjetline to indicate the twist in your timeline as I see you are also at ET already, or do it the next day.
Last edited by Maeve on Fri Sep 28, 2007 2:01 pm, edited 2 times in total.
[i][b][color=orange][size=92]Smile and carry a big stick.[/color][/b][/i][/size]
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Guest
OOC: Very well.
New thread located here.
I actually set it for TT, since this thread started at MT, unless it took longer then that to reach the Punt Den. If there's something faulty with that, let me know, and I'll fix it.
Thnaks for your attention Maeve ^.^
Edit Note: Also, I don't know if Morg already did it, but I also paid 2 lance to the beggar...would I ask you to take it, or do I 'buy' the payment for services myself...how would that work?
New thread located here.
I actually set it for TT, since this thread started at MT, unless it took longer then that to reach the Punt Den. If there's something faulty with that, let me know, and I'll fix it.
Thnaks for your attention Maeve ^.^
Edit Note: Also, I don't know if Morg already did it, but I also paid 2 lance to the beggar...would I ask you to take it, or do I 'buy' the payment for services myself...how would that work?
Last edited by Guest on Sun Sep 30, 2007 3:31 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Guido Cercatoro
- Moderator & Coordinator Pax
- Posts: 2442
- Joined: Tue Aug 01, 2006 3:05 pm
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Guido Cercatoro
- Moderator & Coordinator Pax
- Posts: 2442
- Joined: Tue Aug 01, 2006 3:05 pm