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Cairns on the Wine River [FIN]; [ST05][Signups Closed]
Topic Started: Sat Sep 17, 2016 1:22 pm (8,275 Views)
Tian
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There were still some scuffles going on around the deck of the prison barge, but Tian had stopped worrying about it. His need to flay people alive had died with the majority of the guards who had been easily overpowered by the sheer numbers of thew prisoners, even if some of those worthies died in the process. Of the Wine River Pariahs, all made it through the trial alive.

Cold coursed through him, but he stoically pushed it aside. He marched, shivering, through the darkness - darkness that was as bright as day to his eyes - and followed others as they went to the armory. On the way, he stopped to look through the belongings of a fallen guard and found a piece of steel that would serve the purpose he intended, though in truth he could simply craft the darkness into any object he needed to. He saluted the raiders of the barge as he walked by lazily, the salute of the Company with his fist to heart, and then came to the door.

Well, they certainly used a brawny enough lock on this thing. Too bad its not much of a match against someone who really wants to get into it, eh? he said to the companions that gathered here as he whipped out that piece of metal and began to work on the lock. A few minutes of probing inside the mechanism found the catch, and a little shadowy manufacturing created the other piece he needed to lever the locking mechanism itself. With an audible click, the hasp fell loose and, with a wide shit eating grin, he lifted it off of the door, and pushed it open. The thrill of pain, easily suppressed, was well worth the effort.

Stepping into the blessedly dry storage room beyond, he began to move through the crates and barrels filled with the prisoners belongings, searching for the only things he could imagine finding. It took some time, and he blessedly dried out in the process, but he managed to find his Gloomwood Breastplate, Infiltrator's Gauntlets, and Infiltrator's Boots. He ceased looking after finding those three itmes; all of the rest of his belongings were knives and they were all secreted in a place where no one could reasonably get to them.

Dressed in the more comfortable attire, he slipped his long bladed knives into their customary place, feeling more at home and more secure with his clothes and weapons back within reach. Using that same piece of steel, he removed his collar with some trouble, and offered to remove anyone else's within the Wine River Pariah's group the same service, or who had aided directly in their escape. He wasn;t about to waste time with every single prisoner on the barge though.

Before he left the armory, one of the others pressed a piece of paper into his hands. He glanced at it, and then stuffed it into his leather armor. Following that, he made his way to the staff building, where he expected to find the new arrivals. As expected, they were there; he came in, shaking icy water from his armor as he stepped into the door. No one else seemed to have made their way here yet.

Well, then. Name's Tian. Nice to make your acquaintance. Its not every day I get to break out of jail and meet the rescue team after all the hard work is done. Viktor, was it? And Yehven? Pleased to meet you. He saluted them again, fist to heart, not caring if the gesture was recognized or not. It would be common knowledge he was part of that company, and that company might be ostracized for his involvement in this endeavor. Of course, Aeyliea had nothing to do with this place anyway. And she had been right to be that way. To what do you owe the unmitigated honor of your presence?

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Alexandra
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Alex fell to her back. She raised her now lone arm and tapped at the now barren stump that had been her other arm. Mira knelt over her.

"Deck's cleared, Marne. There's a bunch of folk walking up. I need to get back to your sister." Mira drew a rune in the air, then stopped a moment later. Alex had fallen asleep. Mira sat down beside her. Ten minutes later, she roused the young woman. "Up. They want you to look through the armory for your gear. I'm leaving." Mira drew the rune in the air and unsummoned herself, leaving only a bit of steam where she once stood. Alex fitfully tried use her right arm to lift herself, before turning and using the left. She walked into the armory, and searched through it. There was little she owned here, beyond her old mobility runner hiding in the corner. She pulled it up forcefully with one arm and walked the little mechanikal device onto the deck.

She stopped and scrounged for clothes, picking across a variety of guards until she found a fitting outfit and a gift. She sorted through the bridge until she found a proper mechanikal ink iron quill, an oil pot and a notebook. Men's pants that she had to hang low on her hips. A guard's thick coat that she didn't need, but it would have to do. She found a pair of boots that were just a little loose. She bundled the clothes up and found Zuraw. "Heh...I need a hand. Could you, ah, ...dress me?" Alex put the clothes down and unwrapped the notebook and presented Zuraw with the writing gear. "It should clip nicely onto your armor, and it seems fairly water resistant..." She tried to lead the lanky woman into a side-room so that Alex could be dressed in private. Heat rose from her cheeks as she was put into such an embarrassing position.

"Thanks. Is there anything you could use from me? I'm a technician like you know, but I'm also a bit of an accomplished, well, fire mage. Oh, and can you remove the prison branding?" Alex adjusted the oversized coat and the nestled her chin into the thick, warm high collared black coat.
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Glug Photall
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The dull, heavy thunk coming from one side of the ship made Glug look over at the side.

What in the…grappling hooks?

When the arrow hit and the black smoke issuing from it cleared away, Glug scowled. He recognized that mask…this was the gang run by the Dalca Brothers. He recalled his dealings with them once before…some good-for-nothings they had apparently done business with at some point in the past had decided Glug was being a pest. To get out of the inn, he’d had to kill the upstarts. Unfortunately, this had pissed the Dalca Brothers off enough to give him a non-negotiable job. Once he’d done it, he’d avoided them thereafter. He didn’t like doing jobs that he didn’t get paid for, especially when he was given no choice by a bunch of inbred backwater bloody jackrabbits like the Dalca Brothers.

On the other hand, he’d never seen a group operation by the gang before. These guys looked a little more organized than his initial impression of the gang. Maybe they weren’t all bad, at least as far Glug was concerned; Glug did have a tendency to judge others based on first impressions, however. But then again, he was also intelligent enough to realize that first impressions weren’t always completely accurate - a fair enough point that had kept him alive in more than a few dangerous situations. He didn’t even need to step out of the shadow behind the door; the masked man knew he was there at once and could see the make-shift lock-pick currently situated in the one-eared goblin’s slightly yellowish-white teeth.

After the man’s brief introduction, he nodded curtly and went to the armoury door. He found it quickly enough and would have set to work, but it seemed that someone else was just getting to it ahead of him. He was really feeling the cold and the rain by this time, his prisoner’s garb leaving much to be desired in terms of protection. His hands didn’t want to work right as a result, so he kept flexing them as he waited for the man to open the door. At least he wasn’t shaking, though that was likely due to being used to being out in the elements. That didn’t make this cold any easier, though. He was extremely satisfied when he found his clothes among the other heaps of confiscated belongings and changed quickly. Glug found his armour almost immediately, likely stowed because it didn’t fit any of the crew; he donned that along with his more mundane clothing; most of all, he sighed in satisfaction as he wrapped his cloak around him and donned his flatbrim. He was pissed off to see that someone had taken his cigars, but he noted that his bow was still there; likely, it had been too small for the hands of most of the guards or just generally useless to them. Either way, it hardly mattered now. He had carved and strung the bow himself, along with the arrows, though he’d used enchanted materials for the latter and had an enchanter help him with finishing the bow and the string itself. It was familiar to him, comfortable, and he felt almost whole again - but not quite. While he managed to find the small rook that he always carried, an item too trivial for most people to realize what it was, the realization slowly dawned upon him that his arrows were missing.

He seriously doubted that his horse or its tack were aboard. There would have been no need to go get them. But he was well-paid-up, so the horse would be there when he returned. But that wasn’t what was pissing him off even more right now. He could live without his exploding pebbles, his claw, and even most of his arrows - but he would have liked for some arrows to have stuck around. What good was an archer with no arrows?! This night just kept getting worse. He would have to find a quiver as quickly as possible. For now, however, his thoughts turned to vengeance as he stepped back out onto the deck. He’d have to deal with the Dalca Brothers for now. Besides, they might be useful. In fact, they would almost certainly be useful. The question at the moment was how. First thing was first, though…

“Anybody got a cigar?” he inquired. “And a light? Oh, and I’ll be needing some arrows. I’ll trade something for them as soon as I get anything worth trading.”

He habitually checked to ensure that his new lock-pick was safely in his pocket, along with his other items, as he drew near the apparent leader of this Dalca Brothers team. Before he got there, however, a quill and a blank sheet of parchment were pressed into his hand. He wondered briefly at that, but he pocketed them without a word. Finally, he turned toward the people leading this seizure once more.

“Glug Photall,” he said, his own flatbrim shadowing his face.

A keen eye would still have detected that he had only his left ear, however. The cloak, at least, was providing him with some warmth and his hat was keeping the rain off of his bald head now. But he needed arrows, he need answers, and the more he thought about it, he needed to know how best to get rid of the fellow who’d set him up. He didn’t trust anyone in the group at the moment, but a name was just a name; that could be changed. Besides, at the moment, nobody really had much of a choice. He’d sort his fellow zakona out later…but right now, he had only one major goal:

Antonio Krupin.

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Storyteller[ST]
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Zuraw

Zuraw accepts your gift with a smile and an appreciative nod, Alex, holding the notebook and ink close. She also accepts your request easily, following you to a private room and helping you out. Being a person reduced by one limb, you figure it'll be easier to get some help dressing yourself until you're used to it. The whole ordeal doesn't come across as awkward from the half-werewolf's end of things -- Zuraw just gets the task done without fanfare.

You also ask for her to remove the prison branding on your clothing. Zuraw grips the shoulder patches and tears them off like bandages, threads popping. Alexandra, you ask her if she's in need of anything from you in return for her services. She opens her notebook and writes a message for you:


Most humbly, I am in need of armor repairs. Please do not see this as me overstepping my position. It is no hurry in the absolute slightest. If this request would in any way inconvenience you, please disregard it.



Dalcas

The brothers nod at you, Tian. "Take a seat," Viktor says. "Want some soup?" You ask them a question using some strange turns of phrase. They give you a strange look and, thankfully, the entry of other people interrupt their awkward non-response.

Glug, you enter and curtly offer your name. Viktor takes it in stride but Yevhen's gaze lingers on you. The older brother gives the younger a bit of a smack on the back to snap him out of it. "Soup's on us. Nice hot soup, got chunks of bloodboar and snake-eater tubers. Good for you."


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Glug Photall
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Glug returned the gaze coolly, not saying a word. But when the soup was mentioned, his attention was diverted. He eyed the soup hungrily, realizing that although he had eaten at the inn, that had been some time ago and the cold had only worsened his hunger. Still, he wasn’t sure if he trusted the soup…he’d just been set up and none of the people here was likely any more trustworthy than he was. But on the other hand, if the Dalca Brothers had wanted him dead, he likely would be already; those grappling hooks had come seemingly out of nowhere, and given the confusion of the mutinous gaol-break, they could have easily taken out the prisoners aboard before taking the barge for themselves. No, for now, it seemed that they were to be kept alive and at least somewhat healthy.

Glug nodded in thanks and pulled up a chair, keeping a hand upon the bow as he laid it across his lap. He dug in, eating quickly but politely, his manner evidence of someone who had at least a basic understanding of civilized meal-time customs despite being what most people considered of a primitive, bloodthirsty race. There was quite a lot about Glug that most people did not know, and Glug usually liked to keep it that way.

The soup was gone all too quickly, yet the warmth was already helping to stave off the chill from the river’s weather.
Edited by Glug Photall, Mon Oct 3, 2016 3:49 am.
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Tanya
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Caelum and Caedis fell in line behind Tanya when she gave them the sheets marked with her communiquill. They assisted her in handing the last of them out.

When she'd finished, she gathered them and gave each orders. "Caelum, go around to everyone and make sure they understand how the parchments work. A briefing will be fine."

The air elemental nodded and hurried off to speak to the nearest ally. "That paper, do you know how it works? You just write on it and the words appear. I mean, they appear on the other sheets of paper. You can make copies... I'm not explaining this very well, am I? Let me start again..."

As he continued his stammering explanations, Tanya turned to address Caedis. "You go speak to the engineer girl you were with before. I'm not entirely clear on what she did back there, but now it looks like she's down an arm. See if you can get her to agree to a graft."

Caedis asked around until he found someone who could give him directions to the room where Alex and Zuraw had gone off to. He rapped on the door with the knuckles of Tanya's hand. "How many arms are in there? One too few? I have one too many! How serendipitous. Can I come in?"

Madame Tanya headed back to the cells. It was a relief to be out of the rain, though she'd have preferred to be inside any other building. But none of the other buildings were full of prisoners too wounded or ill to take advantage of the unlocked cages. The cells had been absurdly overcrowded. Balefire's authorities clearly weren't too concerned by the possibility of one or two prisoners dying en route. And some of them likely would, unless Tanya treated them in time.

She passed from cell to cell, taking care of the wounded in each one. Some were beyond her help or suffered from maladies she couldn't cure, but she was able to take care of most of them with a combination of her magical prowess and the supplies she'd salvaged from the armoury.

Only when her mana supply was completely depleted did she return abovedecks to seek out Hearne. She'd recognized him in the cell as the guard who'd given her his coat, the one with the extraplanar tear concealed in it. The job might have gone sideways, but that didn't decrease the potential value of the blueprints. With the right buyer, it could still be a lucrative asset.

Edited by Tanya, Mon Oct 3, 2016 6:06 am.
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Glug Photall
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The air elemental that approached Glug while he was eating was barely noticed. Afterward, however, Glug was slightly more attentive. It seemed that the parchment he now held was ordinary save for the series of runes written in neat, tiny script in one corner of it. He examined the runes now, memorizing each one. When he had them well enough in his head to repeat them until he could hardly forget them, he folded the parchment and put it away, along with the communiquill. He nodded in thanks to the air elemental and then stood to stretch his muscles. Pulling his cloak about him and his flatbrim low, he stepped back outside for a moment. The barge seemed to be moving steadily once more, and he decided to take a small tour of the barge. While the ability to get around in a hurry was going to be useful, however, the real reason he wanted to walk about a bit was that he needed some time to think without everyone around him.

He was in quite a spot. Balefire was dangerous now. But Antonio Krupin was more dangerous. One of the men he’d “hired” seemed to have been lured in with the promise of cake - an odd thing to offer, but if it worked, who was Glug to judge? Anyway, Glug himself had been offered quite a bit of wealth as well as something special…it seemed that each person was likely drawn in with the promise of something that would appeal to them or that they wanted, but why? Krupin must have known who each person was before he had summoned them, and he had obviously known enough about the people he brought in to get them to where he needed them to be. Then he had set everyone up…or had he? There was still the possibility that there was a traitor in the group. And yet, even if there was - even if someone had been paid in some manner to betray everyone - the fact was that it was Krupin who had brought them all together in the first place. It was only the situation as a whole that brought the idea of a traitor to Glug’s mind. The whole thing was about money - a lot of money - and that always tainted everything. But there was something else to consider, as well: everyone that had been in the group at Krupin’s behest had been in that cage.

So, was there a traitor? Someone had made certain they would all be there - either Krupin himself or someone working for him…or with him. And if the traitor was among the group, had Krupin betrayed him (or her) as well? Or, still proceeding along that line of thought, was the traitor’s capture as well part of this plan? And what of the Dalca Brothers? One of them had said that the group had done its work for them. That implied that they had been a part of this from the start, or at least that they were involved prior to the capture of the group. So how were the Dalca Brothers involved? Were they behind the whole affair, or were they merely pawns of Krupin? Or were they simply a watchful third party who had struck when opportunity presented? But there was no guarantee that the group would fall apart - unless someone had been watching the group and how they couldn’t seem to come up with a single coherent plan, which brought Glug back to the idea of a traitor, as someone that had been watching them would have to have been close enough to do so without being detected. So was the traitor there from the start or bought afterward?

And back to the Dalca Brothers, what was their ultimate scheme? They had obviously planned to take this barge, so would they have done so regardless of the prisoners? Yet the prisoners had provided them with the perfect means by which to take the vessel, and they were confident enough in the chaos of the situation to take over the barge without a fight. Everyone else was too concerned with what they were going to do rather than why they were going to be doing it - or so it seemed. They weren’t thinking about why a large gang of individuals would need a prison barge - no, two prison barges - to get to some place called Nine Angels. Or perhaps it wasn’t the barges they needed, but the manpower - namely, the group in which Glug currently found himself. That, of course, brought him all the way back to his original point: that this entire thing had been planned from the start, and that there was potentially a traitor in their midst. But if this entire affair had been orchestrated by the Dalca Brothers and/or Krupin, did a potential traitor even matter at this point?

Except for one thing: if a traitor did exist, what was the next play? The Dalca Brothers obviously needed the group - presumably alive useful. From what little he’d seen of the gang thus far, they didn’t seem like the type to pit a group against itself for no reason. No, the group needed to work together for a single purpose, even if that purpose was spread out among different tasks…the point was, though, that the whole situation had led them to this barge on this river at this time. Why?

Too many questions and no answers…the only good way to fix that was to wait and see what turned up. He might have been interested in only one thing right now - destroying Krupin for putting him in this situation in the first place - but he wasn’t stupid enough to think that he could take him down alone. Even if Krupin was the pawn rather than the Dalca Brothers, anyone involved in orchestrating a plot like this wasn’t someone he wanted to take down without a much greater time table than what was apparently available to him at the moment. He’d have to work with the others…and if they decided not to go after the man, he’d have to deal with that when it came up. But hopefully, they’d decided that a man like that needed to be taken down - and hard. His wealth was the problem, as it was obviously derived from a position of power. Power and wealth were a dangerous combination, especially in Balefire.

When he started to get stiff again, he headed back inside. He found the Dalca Brothers waiting for him, and apparently, his brief meeting “job” for them in the past was evidence enough that he was responsible enough for a paying job. He stopped to speak with them only briefly, and he didn’t immediately like what he was hearing, but he listened nevertheless.

”Hey, could y'all do me a favor? Bring these zakona announcements -- and, uh, this letter from Yevhen I guess -- to that bounty hunter Czajka. It doesn't seem like much of a job, but I'll pay upfront. Having some cash will let you survive longer in town so long as you don't blow it all on cheap liquor.”

Zakona announcements…it was bad enough that he was now considered a zakona in Balefire; now this idiot wanted him to deliver some papers detailing other zakona? How stupid did he think Glug was? But it seemed that the brothers weren’t done.

”I owe that brothel-brat.”

“Don't call her that!”

"Hey, I didn't mean nothing of it, it's just a fact!"

“Once I get her in the loop about the Taming of Balefire, she'll get a huge edge over the competition before they start swarming into town. Then we'll be even. I hate being indebted to people. And don't worry; the Wine River Pariahs aren't in the reports. Check it if you don't believe me.”


Glug took the papers from the brothers and did precisely that: he looked through them quickly but carefully. No…he wasn’t in there. Neither were the details of any of the other people he’d seen in the group thus far. There was still the matter of payment, however. He didn’t take a job unless it was actually worth it. The brothers did say they would pay up-front, which was better than one of the rules of his usual deals; he typically demanded at least half the payment up-front for a job just in case the job went bad for whatever reason. He also typically stipulated that if the job did go bad, he’d keep the initial investment and it would be his decision alone whether to continue the job. Delivery jobs could be just as dangerous as espionage, and espionage could be just as dangerous as an assassination. Still, depending upon the payment…

He eyed the brothers suspiciously.

There was mention of the oddity of Czajka’s name by the brothers, too…but Glug was more interested in the name of the inn: the Howling Dogs Saloon. He doubted very much that it was kind of place a noble’s poodles would find themselves in, assuming the name of the place was any indication. Such names usually were. Glug nodded curtly, anyway, and then moved on to his own question regarding the job.

”And what would be the payment for this job?”
he inquired, carefully avoiding asking “how much”.

Wording was often as important as the job itself when establishing a contract. On the plus side, Glug was dependable enough not to try to open the letter he was also given. For one thing, if there was any kind of magic associated with the sealing of the letter, he wouldn’t know about it until it was too late. He literally knew one spell, and it had been useless until now - and now, his fine new horse was nowhere near him, anyway. So much for that. He knew a trick to opening a sealed letter, but he doubted he was certain that he wouldn’t have the opportunity to utilize such a method. The Dalca Brothers might have been patient enough for this barge to show up, but he doubted they would be patient enough for him to take his sweet time getting from the barge to this Czajka person.

OOC
Edited by Glug Photall, Mon Oct 3, 2016 9:37 am.
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Keter
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Keter had been smart. The guards had nice, thick clothing that could help his endurance stave off the biting cold of the outside world. It might not have been a perfect solution, but it was definitely better than simply relying on prison rags and his own chiseled abs to stave off nature's chill. A hat that could keep the rain off of his head, a thick coat that could keep his body warm, considerably more comfortable pants, reliable gloves and solid boots, and a scarf which sadly did little to combat the mounting chill of the collar still around his neck. Best of all he barely had to worry about anybody harassing him as he took a look around the ship, simply having to break a few confused ex-prisoners who mistook him for the enemy, but nobody that foolish from his own group.

As the chaos of the prison break came winding to an end, when Keter came out of one of the on-board structures, he finally began to take notice of oddities cropping up around the night. Then the prison barge was hit by grappling hooks, the sound of the impact upon the vessel managing to pierce through the increasingly heavy rain, almost as if on cue.

The Dalka Brothers Gang, the Black Monkey assumed.

Considering that they seemed to be enemies of Balefire, Keter was more interested in seeing how the sudden boarding would play out rather than considering the new arrivals an immediate threat. Fortunately his hunch on that matter seemed to play out for the better, rather than turning hostile against any of the freed prisoners, he seemed to encourage their freedom and applaud their small riotous escape.

Keter did not even bother checking for any of his belongings. The only thing he had carried of any note was a ring that could make him punch a little harder, and Balefire did not seem like the sort of place that would just keep a ring with the possessions of criminals.

"Wine River Pariahs." Keter mused to himself, the Shade seeming to have been suppressed by the effects of the collar, "Interesting name for this rag tag group. Makes me thirsty."

One of the members of the group handed Keter a piece of paper without any real explanation as to what it was. She seemed to be in a hurry, maybe caught up in the adrenaline from recent events, but Keter still took the paper and placed it in one of the pockets of his newly acquired coat.

Shortly after, a familiar sort of feeling came to mind. The Ethereal was finally ready to collect, respectful enough to wait until there was proper time to share the story. It seemed to the Black Monkey that this Ethereal entity was a reliable one to make deals with. He could respect that adherence to an agreement.

"Thanks for your patience. Let me just get this collar off, it's not very pleasant." Keter said, fully intent on keeping his end of the deal, but wanting to prioritize literal freedom before figurative. One of his fellow cell-mates had been given the guard's keys to help facilitate the prison break, so with any luck they still had those keys and would not mind helping free him from the collar around his neck. Once that collar was off, he could properly don the scarf he had scavenged.

Shortly after that, with great timing it seemed, came one of the fellow cellmates to nervously explain how the parchment worked. Well, a communicative piece of paper was at least a step up from blindly charging into the future.




The Story of the Black Monkey
Price of the Ethereal Deal


"A long time ago lived a monkey that was as black as the darkest shadows, even its tongue, and it could move through the shadows as easily as it could move through the trees, disappearing into one and reappearing from another in an instant. This monkey, even by the standards of other monkeys, was a curious one who liked to explore, to watch the creatures of the forest from the shadows, and who would watch the sun and the moons roll slowly through the sky as the clouds passed them by.

"One day as the monkey was leaping from tree to tree and dancing from shadow to shadow, it came to the edge of the forest where the creatures known as humans lived. It had watched hunters skulking through the forest before, but had never seen where they had lived. To the monkey it was a curious place, with things that looked to it like stubby, wide trees filled with holes.

"From the shadows of the canopy, the monkey watched the villagers. Day after day it would return and watch them, and at night it would try to mimic them elsewhere in the woods before falling asleep. The ways that they worked, the ways that they played, and the even the ways that they fought with one another for fun.

"After a while of watching the monkeys and the humans, the black monkey began to wonder why they were so different. They both had fingers and toes, and they both gathered in groups. Sure the humans were bigger, but that couldn't be it.

"The black monkey tried to convince the others to try copying how the humans behaved, to build something, to farm instead of foraging, to form a community instead of lounging about in the trees, but the others monkeys thought it was just crazy from spending too much time in the shadows. Eventually it earned the ire of the biggest and the meanest monkey in the forest who demanded that the black monkey stop talking about the humans. When it refused, the bigger monkey impatiently attacked, not wanting some smaller monkey with weird fur to think it could get away with ignoring it.

"The Black Monkey moved quickly through the shadows as its foe tried to attack it, dodging and hiding while the bigger monkey exhausted itself with wild flailing, attacking the shadows in its frustration. More monkeys came to watch the fight from around the forest, wondering how long it would be until the dark monkey was killed. When the big monkey became slow, the black monkey attacked it from the shadow with a rock it had found on the forest floor, combining the savagery of a monkey with the cleverness of a human, the black monkey killed its bigger enemy with several sharp blows.

"When the fight was over, the black monkey looked up at the chattering of its kin, and with the eyes of the other monkeys settled on it with surprise in their eyes, a realization came to the black monkey. The humans that it had been watching had a leader that the others followed, that helped encourage them to work, and if it wanted to see the monkeys do the same, then they would need the same, and what better and more clever a leader could they have than the black monkey, itself? It demanded that they recognize it as their leader, and none denied its claim to leadership.

"With the black monkey leading the others, it began to teach them what it had learned from the humans. It taught them how to create tools, how to use those tools to create buildings, how to start growing food for themselves, and how to make weapons to hunt other creatures of the forest with. In time they had their first village built around the trees, with a wooden fence to keep the night predators from eating them in their sleep, all centered around a comforting fire. They monkeys could not believe it, but the one that they had thought little more than crazy was right about mimicking the humans, it may have been more work but it made life more interesting and made relaxing seem even better.

"After years of learning from watching the humans and growing outwards, trouble finally came from the humans. A monkey had been killed in the forest by a hunter for a spree of stealing things from the nearby human village, but instead of the monkeys cowering at the thought of being killed, with their newfound knowledge and their own hunting weapons they began feeling only rage and a want for vengeance. They succeeded in killing the hunter that had killed one of their own, but the villagers did not understand why the monkeys had suddenly attacked.

"From there things escalated. Humans would go into the forest to hunt the monkeys they considered little more than violent beasts, but the black monkey had been teaching them how to hide and strike from the shadows. They might not have been able to melt into the darkness like their leader could, but they could hide well enough to strike down the humans that intended to kill them.

"Word began to spread through Nalai about the violent monkeys in the forest, and not long after that a group of people more dangerous than the normal hunters appeared, answering the call for help. One could see the monkeys in the shadows and could strike them down before they attacked, another covered in some strange sort of hide tougher than stone seemed unaffected by the monkeys attacks, and the last one had a strange power to create light with which to dispel the darkness.

"These three moved through the forest, chasing their targets until they reached the monkey village, where the black monkey waited, its heart filled with fury at the sudden attacking of its followers by these dangerous individuals. Unlike the monkey villagers, when the black monkey vanished into the shadows, the one who could see through the darkness could not find it in time to defend against the attacks. With the one that shrugged off the attacks of the monkeys, the black one could see the gaps in the armor and stabbed at them with a spear. The one with the power of light tried to disperse the shadows, but the monkey merely hid above the shadows of the branches being cast upwards.

"Alone, the black monkey beat the three and chased them back to the village, one by one they escaped the tree line, but when the black monkey followed them out, not done punishing them yet, one of the villager's hunters readied their bow quickly and fired at the monkey. Away from the shadows and distracted by rage, the black monkey could not react in time to avoid the arrow loosed in its direction. The blow struck was fatal, it seemed that the leader of the monkeys' aggression was finished, but a strange thing occurred in the monkey's final moments.

"Rather than being filled with anger or a sensation of triumph, the three who had arrived in the forest to deal with the threat of the violent monkeys gathered around the one that was darker than any shadow at night. They came to realize that something stranger than simple viciousness had happened in the forest, that the monkeys were beginning to civilize and that they were just responding in kind to violence. The black monkey had attacked them to protect its village from the three fierce humans that had come to help the village.

"The group carried the dying monkey back to its village in the forest to the silence of the monkey villagers who watched their leader's body being returned. The black monkey died, but soon-after the violence stopped. Rather than continuing to fight the monkeys that they saw as savage beasts, the villagers, by suggestions of the heroes who had killed the black monkey, instead began to cooperate with the monkeys in the forest. Rather than hunting them, they taught the monkeys more and began to trade with them. Not long after that, more monkey villages began to crop up in the forests of Nalai, and more monkeys began to move into the villages of the humans. While they could not speak the same language, they learned to understand one another.

"The Black Monkey, the first recognized leader of the monkeys, was cremated at that village. Unbeknownst to the monkeys at the time, their leader would become an Incarnation, a living myth of Nalai, to be reborn to human parents, but that is the end of the original Black Monkey."


That was it, a story that had since been buried at the behest of the demon kings, preserved by the memory of the Incarnation, and the fulfillment of Keter's end of the bargain he had made. Honestly, he cared little if anybody overheard his story being told to the Ethereal. The more people that knew the tale of the Black Monkey, the further that the story spread, the harder it would be for it to be quelled by the influence of the demon kings. He doubted anybody would care, but at the very least maybe he could tell this story again in the future.

"Now, for the rest of our deal. You agreed to give me information about something that could give me an extra edge in power that I require. And not that ring that was taken from me, or anything like it. I'll find that again on my own."




The Dream

Keter stood before the curious sight of a cairn in the road. Everything seemed practically silver with the mist that hung in the air, the road breaking up the collection of flowers across the ground to either of its sides. The trees groaned in the chilling wind and the rain rattled as it crashed ever downward, but despite the frigid conditions he simply stood staring at the banner that gently moved with the weather.

He had to pick a path, or else he would probably just end up like the body of the woman at the cairn. Left or right, but it had to be forward.

Right, he decided. He could not waste time to accomplish what he required. Time wasted with knowledge let others prepare.

The body suddenly sprung to life and grabbed him by the leg.

"I wouldn't choose carelessly." She said through a rotten smile. Was it even the corpse that spoke to him, or the maggots that seemed to glow through the thick conditions?

Before Keter could respond, a sound like a tree cracking but not groaning came from behind the cairn. A shadow spread against the mist and stood tall, formless, but clearly looking down at him. The shadow did not move further, it simply stood there and stared before creaking out, "Either way, you know where you'll end."

Keter's eyes shot open as he laid against the wall where had dozed off. There were too many dangerous strangers around, he could not just allow himself to close his eyes and trust them, but somehow he had allowed himself to fall sleep. Too much stress since arriving at Balefire had exhausted him, but he seemed to get through his sleep without too much trouble in the waking world.

In his dream, however, everything felt off.




"Greetings, Dalca Brothers, right? You can call me Keter." Keter said as he entered the room with a wave directed to the two who had grappled their way onto the ship, "Soup would be nice, thanks."

The Black Monkey might not have been able to recognize anything other than "boar" as an ingredient in the soup, but no matter how it tasted he knew that he was too hungry to get picky. Besides, there was surely not much worse than that terrible gruel he had been force-fed for lifetimes. No matter how it tasted, he would consume it quickly and inquire about additional servings.

There did not appear to be many people gathered in the room just yet, but there was already talk about a potential job to get some coin in their pockets, something about meeting somebody name Chai Tea or something like that. Keter practically dropped himself into a seat, lazily kicking up his feet.

"I'll go with the little green man." Keter said, remembering the goblin from the dark waters of the tournament not too long ago, "I'd like to get off the barge some, and he could use an effective bodyguard."
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Prisoners

Tanya, the wounded and sick prisoners you treat are incredibly grateful for your (seeming) altruism. A few wonder out loud if the zakona proscriptions might be a load of bull. This choice might have ramifications later.


Dalcas

Glug, you ask Viktor how much the job pays. A fair question. "Anyone who agrees to do the job, I'll give 30 notes to each of them. That's enough for a few nights in a cheap inn, or you can stretch it longer if you sleep at the warming area on the street." You and anyone listening to the exchange realizes that he's offering this job purely on the honor system; he has no idea of knowing until he meets with Czajka much later who participated in the job and how much of the message would actually be delivered.

Keter, Viktor dishes out a cup of soup and hands it to you with a cursory greeting. "Glad to hear you're up for the job. The more on it, the better. It's not the kind of thing I'm comfortable handing over to some street rat. Need some people with guts." (Keter, you have an understanding of the prison barge's layout now. You were able to find a secluded place to tell your story. The only thing you felt from the Ethereal was acceptance -- you received nothing in return. A whisper of a promise is on the air, though. The winds of fate have changed ever so slightly to accommodate your deal. Just be patient; the Ethereal plays the long game.)
Edited by Storyteller, Mon Oct 3, 2016 12:04 pm.
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Carmen
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The cold on deck was instantly numbing. Carmen's core temperature plummeted, and suddenly finding suitable clothes was far more important than finding her belongings. She stumbled across the deck. Guards lay dead everywhere she looked. Some had been stripped of their clothing already. Others were being fought over. A few, the ones that had been more bloodied or mutilated than most, lay untouched. Carmen approached one and lifted the flatbrim hat to find the corpse's head nearly twisted from its shoulders. Her stomach turned, she dropped the hat, and she stumbled away, toward some of the buildings.

Through chattering teeth she asked one of the crew, the workers who'd been left unmolested, where she could find the crew quarters. On her way there, she was intercepted first by Tian, who kindly removed her collar, and then one of Tanya's followers, who pressed a parchment into her hand and gave a cursory explanation of its use. Carmen tucked it in the pit of her arm to keep it dry and kept moving.

The barracks and quarters had been opened before she arrived. Carmen kept walking, ignoring the rows of hammocks and shared beds, until she found a room with a single mattress and a desk. It wasn't much; far from the luxury she was accustomed to, but on a prison barge like this, it could only be the Captain's quarters. A small lockbox lay overturned on the floor and the bedding had been flung to the floor, likely in a search for valuables, but Carmen wasn't there for coin. She fell to her knees in front of the chest of drawers and rifled through it, finding thick, warm clothes with tight-weaved threads and minor ornamentation.

Hearing voices in the hall, Carmen closed the door and flipped the lock-bar. She doffed her half-frozen rags, dried herself and her hair with the rough bed linens, and then pulled on the Captain's clean clothes and spare jacket. The clothes were heavy, and too large for her, but they were dry and civilized; two things she could not say of the burlap she'd been wearing. The man's boots, however, were just too big for her to wear. She looked at her feet, which only now began to regain feeling, and that feeling was pain.

Tears welled in her eyes again and her nose, red with cold, began to run. Carmen wept, her raw edges still ragged from the ordeal in the cell, her insides still broken. It would take weeks for the pain of that memory to fade, and even what it did, it would only serve to inflame an old scar that could not be healed. It was several minutes before she managed to compose herself, clean her face in the washbasin, and leave the room.

Carmen staggered through the halls of the crew quarters, wearing only the Captain's thick stockings on her feet until she finally found a pair of boots that fit her small frame. She massaged her feet before pushing them into the boots, pushed the feathered Capitano hat onto her head, and stepped back out onto the icy deck.

It took her some time, but Carmen found each of the people she knew had helped her in the cell during her episode and gave them her personal, heartfelt thanks. She found Ansgar as well, introduced herself as Carmen, and thanked him for what he'd done to aid in their escape. She offered him what service she might provide in return for his help, but they both knew she was in poor position to offer anything to anyone at the moment. It was Ansgar that directed her to the armory, where he said she might find some of her belongings.

When she arrived in the armory, most of the shelves had been picked over. Her heart sank into her shoes and Carmen scrambled about the room, desperately rummaging through bins and boxes until her hand finally closed on the familiar handle of her violin case. She lifted it into her arms and cradled it like an infant. Cinder, one of her stoats, skittered up her pant leg and curled around her neck.

"Cinder?" she asked. "Where is Smoke?"

The rodent dropped her signet ring into her palm and chittered frantically, but Carmen did not understand. Color drained from her face and her chest tightened as she considered the possible fates of her pet and friend.

"We'll find him. Together," she said, tucking the ring safely away for now.

Carmen walked then to find the barge's 'rescuers', the men who had led the boarding party that came moments too late to be of significant help. They weren't here to kill the prisoners or sell them into slavery, which was a relief, but Carmen still questioned their motives, which had remained noticeably unspoken. She found the brothers dining with some of her group, the pariahs, as they'd come to be collectively known. Carmen introduced herself to them as well, using only her first name, and thanked them for having helped secure her freedom. She was handed a hot bowl of soup, and hunger drove her to put a spoonful of it into her mouth before even smelling it, or asking what it was.

"Got chunks of bloodboar and snake-eater tubers. Good for you." one of them said.

Her skin went pale and Carmen dropped the bowl on the floor. She ran to the side of the ship, held her hat and hung her head over the rail as her stomach expelled what little she'd eaten. She coughed, wiped vomit from her mouth, and trudged back to the brothers, looking notably greener than she had before.

"I'm allergic," she lied, not wanting to appear unappreciative to someone she hardy knew, and owed a debt.

She learned of the job being offered, and the reward for accepting; payment before delivery, which struck her as unusual. There were many questions to ask, but a few struck her as far more important than the rest.

"Why did you attack these ships?" she said, keeping her tone gentle and genuinely curious. "Does our freedom serve you somehow? And why trust us with this task?"

OOC



Edited by Carmen, Mon Oct 3, 2016 5:20 pm.
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Dalcas

Carmen, you ask the Dalca brothers why they attacked these ships, what their game is, and why they trusted the Pariahs with the delivery task. Viktor leans back in his chair, folding his mud-caked leg over his other knee, chuckling softly.

"We got a business agreement, and we intend to hold up our end of the bargain. She needs bodies, we need money, and it can't hurt getting a chance at a hot piece of Istan, am I right?" He lightly smacks Keter on the arm with the back of his hand, joking around. "Because damn! You got no idea, boys."

"Miss Bacek is too intimidating. I always get a lump in my throat, can't talk. Czajka is better," the younger brother mutters.

"But Czajka don't pay us," Viktor retorts. "Anyway, it's just a temporary alliance. Mutually beneficial. We used to be kings! We ruled the mines a bit west of here. But I'm not worried. Bumps like this just happen when you live a life like ours. They always even out in the end, at least if you use your brain. ...Which brings me to you Pariahs. I'll put it to y'all plain: I don't trust any of you. But with this job, I'm giving you a chance to prove you're trustworthy. It's an opportunity wrapped in thirty crumpled notes."


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Arthur
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Arthur made his way to the bridge followed by Yurim, and Hearne. Angsar also joined them quickly. Arthur paid little attention to them as he got to the door. He could have knocked the door down himself but instead he let Angsar do it. The door flew off its hinges and Arthur saw a staff of navigators and the captain that were blocked by a group of ready guards. Arthur growled at the sight of them. He said," We have the ship I suggest you lay down your arms before you die"

Arthur was giving them one chance to surrender just one. Finally the guards laid down their arms and the navigators and captain raised their hands. Arthur sighed in relief. He would have hated to kill them mostly because he would have figured they would need them later. He however could not speak for the others with on whether they would kill them or not. Arthur however would not.

He said," If the others let you go to the cells you lovingly gave us and stay there till we need you". Arthur then turned around and buckled his sword. He went out into the rain finally feeling it. He shivered a little and found a dead guard and took his clothing as the man would not be needing it. It was warm and kept a good bit of the rain off. Arthur noticed several of the bodies had arrows in them but he remembered no one with a bow. That was odd but Arthur paid no further mind.

They went down stream for little while then Arthur saw another prison barge that was being pulled to the side of the river. Arthur's hackles rose at the sight and his hand went to his sword. But before he could do anything grabbling hooks struck their ship. They were being pulled to the side of the river like the other barge.

"Come out! Come out onto the deck, everyone, everyone! Let me see those bright, smiling faces!" A voice said coming from the forest on the shore, for now. An arrow hit the deck, unfurled, belched smoke, and a man walks out. He was tall, skinny, young-looking, maybe in his early twenties and wearing all the clothing expected of someone who lives in the backswamps. However, an iron bite mask caked in frost is secured around the bottom half of his face. He's also wearing a mask on the back of his head that's painted with two huge eyes, creating an awkward crisscrossing pattern of straps between his cheeks.


Bow slung around his shoulder, he holds up both empty hands once all of you gather round, most likely huddling in areas of roof overhang so you're blocked from the rain. "Imagine my surprise when I was glassing y'all: a bunch of prisoners just bust out that door! Hilarious! Good job doing all the work for us." He literally applauds your efforts. "Did y'all kill the Captain? Just curious, don't matter neither way." While the man is speaking, the barge you're on is getting pulled dangerously close to the dark mangroves and cypresses on or just off-shore. You can see groups of people in the shadows on dry land, working with all the gear and getting things ready for boarding. The man in the bite mask rushes over to the edge and starts heaving to get the loading ramp ready to hit the water. As the barge hits the river's shallows, you feel a judder and a series of scrapes on the hull beneath you. The man just laughs it off rather than being worried you guys will spring a leak or something.

The people and beasts boarding the ship you just secured can only be described as sketchy. Highlights include a man with raggedy bird wings, a few working-umbra with prosthetic limbs, and a woman with a metal jaw and burns covering one side of her body. They don't seem very talkative, issuing all of you hard and appraising stares as they load all their horses and gear onto the barge.

"Anyone got the cargo hold and armory open yet?" the man in the bite mask turns and says to you. "Need help? Pfft, you don't, you got one guy with a lockpick and another who looks like he could lift the walls clean off. Don't mind me, go get your shit. Sure as hell earned it, and big brother just wants live bodies anyways." He starts muttering about how thorough the job you guys did was, so you get the impression your efforts hadn't all been in vain.


Arthur eyed the man with apprehension but he knew he could nothing and felt no other danger so turned around and made his way to the armory. When he got there he found the door already open and others searching it. He went in and found his Admantium armor which he thanked his lucky stars. He also found his spy token, and that was it. All his weapons were in his pocket dimension which he thanked his foresight for.

With his recovered equipment in tow, he headed back outside. Standing out in the pouring, freezing rain is a man with his shoulders relaxed and hands resting in the pockets of his long riding-coat. A storm hat obstructs your view of his eyes. What little of his face you can see lets you tell he's humanesque, with a square jaw and huge rips across his skin. One of his arms is replaced by scratched metal pieces shaped like stylized bones. Upon seeing you as a group, his mouth splits into a thin smile.

"I know you people. Saw your faces in the records," he says. "You're the Wine River Pariahs. You're famous -- a few nights north and north-east, at least. I reckon that fame'll spread quicker than you like."

"What was that, brother?" the younger man in the bite mask says, coming up alongside him. "These are the Pariahs?"

"This is good. I was hoping they'd ship you west. Damn, though, y'all're really something. Blueprints stolen, scorchliner explodes, now you bust out of prison on your own power. You could really be something. Anyway, the name's Viktor, and this is my little brother Yevhen. Let's get out of this shitty weather, alright? I'll get some soup going and we can get all cozy in the staff quarters building. Wanna know all your names, too. Got a few hours before we hit Nine Angels."


Arthur grunted at them and followed after. Tanya found him and gave him a piece of paper with a rune on it. He knew what it was so he thanked her. Communication would be a good thing in the future. Once they got out of the weather Arthur said," Names Arthur, I would say its a pleasure but I am not sure of your intentions with us and this ship. Just now I am watching you. However since your offering a job I will gladly take it as my gold was not in the armoury. But know if it goes like this last one I'm gonna do to you what I do to Antonio. I always pay my debts to".

He then looked at Glug and Tian and said," I already know you and you said your name was Glug. Like I said I am Arthur and I guess we will be woring together".
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Glug Photall
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Glug pondered the payment and the deal. Miss Bacek was a mystery to him, as was this Czajka person - at the moment - but he was quite certain that he would learn more in the future. However, although he was initially displeased at having to work with people again, he continued to recognize - albeit silently - that he would need to in order to attain his own ends. So, thinking for a moment, he nodded curtly and passed the letter over to Keter. He might not want to risk opening it, but if Keter did and he just happened to find out what it said…

“I don’t need a bodyguard,” he said. “I just need a quiver and a cigar.”

Yeah, he still hadn’t gotten his cigar. Nobody had yet spoken up about it. He didn’t technically need a cigar, but it would have been nice.

“And I can get a few arrows on my own as long as I can find some solid wood to shave.”

Indeed, he still had the bone splinter, and it would work well enough both for picking locks and for fletching arrows. They wouldn’t be perfect arrows, so they wouldn’t have the range that well-wrought arrows would be given by his bow, but they would be arrows nevertheless. As to the other, though…he shrugged.

“But I can live without a few luxuries. I have before.”

He decided to take the job, even as another joined the hunt for this Czajka person as well; he didn't like the idea of working with Arthur, as he seemed far too "noble" for his own good, but he probably didn't have much of a choice.
It was some time later in the night. He had gotten a bit of sleep but now, he was doing something that he rarely did: dreaming. It was a very strange dream, although he was not surprised by it, considering recent events. They were enough to make anyone dream, especially strange dreams.

A stranger slumps at the base of a bannered cairn there, appearing dead. Mist swirls around your legs as you approach. Your vision beyond the fork is blurry. Carpets of twisted flowers flank your path, their glow dispersed by the thickness of the mist. Drooping branches sway in the wind and rain.

There was a fork in the road. When Glug passed the cairn to go one way or the other, a stranger reached out and grabbed his leg with a frostbitten, crackling hand. He looked down, his hand tightening upon a bow that he suddenly and warily realized was not there. Even though the stranger was well-dressed, glowing maggots crawled out of the voids that were once her eyes. Raindrops drip off the brim of their storm hat. Despite the clear note of undeath evident in the eye sockets, the stranger was beautiful. She had well-kept skin of a dark-green hue; an angular face that was strong but attractive; and slender ears resembling those of a sheep more than of a dagger, the way most goblin’s ears were. The long, beautiful black hair she had was silky and tied into a tight braid behind her, the lone braid sprouting as a top-knot from her otherwise bald head. Yet her body was frostbitten, as though she had frozen to death here…yes, she was most definitely undead, or at the very least, possessed by some spirit. Glug got a chill dancing up and down his spine all of a sudden that had nothing to do with the cold of the…actually, he wasn’t ON a river anymore. Where had that thought come from? He let it pass.

The beautiful goblin woman smiled up at Glug.

"I wouldn't choose carelessly," was all she said.

He turned back to the fork in the road, and the goblin woman’s grip lessened. He strode forward, pondering…the left fork was more familiar, comfortable…easy. But the right fork…his eyes narrowed, his gaze darkening considerably. Glug rarely chose the easy way out. That was perhaps both his virtue and his folly, and this was no different. He inherently knew that the right fork would be much bloodier, and he didn’t mind that all too much; but he also knew that it would be much harder and much more dangerous - for him. Nevertheless, he knew the route that he would take already. Was it predetermined, then? Who knew? Who cared?


He awoke suddenly, but still and silent. There was brief whispering nearby, and then a story was told to the darkness. Glug listened, admittedly curious, and finally glanced over at the source - another man, the one called Keter. It was an interesting story, certainly. He turned away, considering the philosophical implications of it for some time before rising. He met the Dalca Brothers a bit later, while he was stretching his legs once more, and spoke briefly with them. The subject of the dream inevitably came up.

It turned out that everyone had experienced a nearly identical dream, with only the details of the individual changing from person to person. Viktor Dalca listened to the news of the shared dream as he shoveled spoonfuls of soup into his mouth from a tin cup.

"Don't read too much into it,” he told Glug as he ate. ”Your mind fades a little when you sleep, at least round these parts. I think it just means your fates are tied together now. All of yours. And it's no mystery you Pariah's've got a big, big choice to make: you gonna secure your freedom in Norwood or get back at the man who screwed you over?"

Glug’s eyes darkened for real this time as he turned toward the man.

“I’m always free to some extent, Dalca,” he told the man. “I couldn’t care less about my skin. I’ve had enough bigotry thrown my way to last a hundred lifetimes. I’m used to having a bad reputation. But nobody crosses a goblin and stays sitting pretty. Nobody.”


And with that, Glug stepped away to listen to others ask their questions, hopefully picking up a little information that was actually useful to him.

OOC
Edited by Glug Photall, Mon Oct 3, 2016 5:59 pm.
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Carmen
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Carmen nodded slowly as the brothers explained themselves, if that's what they thought they were doing. It still made all too little sense to her. She asked if she could sit before pulling up a chair and taking a seat with them.

"You said 'she needs bodies'. Who is 'she'? Do you mean Miss Bacek? Who is that, exactly? What can you tell me about her? And about Czajka?"

She was careful not to fire off the questions like a repeater crossbow, and instead fed them her inquiries one at a time, giving ample time for each answer before moving to the next.

"Okay," she nodded. "And what exactly does she need these 'bodies' for?"

Again, she gave time for a reply before speaking again, smiling and shifting her eyes to contact those of which brother was speaking.

"I see," she said, as she absorbed their replies. "What can you tell us about this place we are going; this town you call Nine Angels."
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Lorica
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OOC
 
This post was made via PMs with Alice and the ST, it was all compiled and put in the correct order here for your reading pleasure


Anci pressed close for 'warmth.' “No complaints here,” Lorica said, snuggling closer to the Sulerian. She breathed in their ear, speaking as softly as she could, making sure no one was close enough to eavesdrop. “I have some things to share, Braids.” She kissed their earlobe, hopefully giving outsiders a different impression of why she was taking them away in private.

Anci supressed a laugh, making a snorted giggle in response and twisted her head to look at Lore with a lopsided grin. “As long as there is a roof, I am all yours.”

“I can make that happen.” Lorica On the way to finding an abandoned room Lorica stopped to examine the corpse of a guard. She knelt down, shivering, and tilted its head from side to side. “Hey, he looks human, right? No funny horns or markings.” An arrow had taken the man in one eye socket, ruining his face but leaving the rest of his body intact. “Let’s bring him along.”

“He looks dead to me.” Anci didn't object though, helping carry the body. “No flowers or candied fruit of course on this trip. Nope. Just dead people. Thanks a lot, really appreciate it.” The cold making her teeth chatter made the griping sound a lot less sharp than it would have otherwise.

“There will be rose petals and a string quartet next time, alright?”

“Soon as I know what those are I might get excited about them.”

They managed to find a currently unoccupied supply room that happened to have some changes of clothes. Lorica wasted no time ins tripping out of her sodden prison rags and replacing them with a guard’s outfit. She shared the information she’d gleaned from the Ethereal with Anci about Zuraw and Kir Lantos. “We need to make sure Zuraw is on our side. I have a plan for that…”



Lorica tugged at the collar of her new clothes, uncomfortable without her gambeson. These clothes were fur-lined and waterproof, but she’d still prefer her usual attire. The Keeper made her way across the icy deck in her stolen boots (which thankfully fit relatively well), finding Zuraw in Alex’s company. “Hey there Scorch, mind if I steal your friend away for a minute? I’ll get her back by curfew, no worries.” She gave the half-werewolf a warm smile.

With the knight in tow, Lorica returned to the supply room. Anci was waiting for them… along with the human body. She’d cut out shaft, but the socket was still a gory mess. The Sulerian had agreed to her plan, although somewhat belligerently. I’ll have to make it up to them later. Lorica settled down next to the body, her lips pressed in a straight line. “Hungry?”

Zuraw stopped at the entrance, frozen and tense, eyes fixed on the corpse.. Her eyes flew to Lorica, shocked and afraid, even though the question wasn't even for her.

“Oh right. Vow of silence, right?” Lorica tapped the body with the flat of her stolen knife. “He’s a bit cold, but we could carve a steak off. Char it over one of those heating lanterns, if you don’t like it rare.” She looked up, smiling in a way that didn’t reach her eyes. “This is what Kir Lantos does for you, right? Keeps you fed? ‘Protects’ you?” There was a particularly bitter inflection to the last question.

The look on the half-werewolf's face was a mixture of horror, shock, and shame. Taking steps backward, she started shivering violently, shaking her head over and over. She pulled out her notebook and pen, but dropped the notebook accidentally. The way she was holding her weight, it looked like she was about to run.

“Easy there.” Anci said as she reached down and picked up the fallen notebook, slowly holding it out. She casually worked herself behind Zuraw while doing it, the half-were hadn't stepped inside of the closet fully to close the door on her.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. No judgment here. No one else knows, just me and Braids here. They won’t not unless you want them to.” Her voice was soft and soothing, Lorica plopped down on the corpse’s abdomen, making the knife disappear by legerdemain. “We just want to talk. Or scribble, in your case. There’s no danger here. Not from us, anyway.”

Zuraw took the notebook and held it close. With some hesitation, she entered the room fully, but kept her back against the wall as far away from the corpse as possible. After some time staring at them, she opened the pages and wrote.

You pulled information from the Shadow Plane. Making deals is very, very dangerous.
“Yes, well, so was trying to infiltrate Wine River. We’ve all thrown caution to the wind these past few days, including you.” She spread her hands. “Let me tell you a story, Sparky -- do you mind if I call you Sparky?” Lorica didn’t give the half-werewolf enough time to write an answer. “Once upon a time I worked for this man. He was quite a bit like Kir Lantos, now that I think about it. Sunny. Charming. Protective.”

“Anyway, he only wanted the best for me. He made sure I knew that. Whenever I did something he didn’t like, he made sure I knew that too.”
She touched her right brow absentmindedly, remembering. The scar was long gone, but the memory would remain until her dying day. “He kept me under his thumb. I didn’t even think about getting away. I was afraid that if I even thought about it, he’d know.”

“He didn’t care about me. In the end, he was willing to hand me out to dry to save his own life. I was just a plaything to him. A tool. He didn’t have to bother using chains to keep me captive. I did that myself. With my shame, my guilt.”
Lorica tapped the corpse’s chest pointedly. “My vices.” Anci was nodding reassuringly in the background. Lorica didn’t meet her eyes. She didn’t want to see any pity in her friend’s eyes. Pity hadn’t helped free her from Marcus. In the end she had to do that herself. So would Zuraw.

Zuraw's back hit the wall and she slid down until she was curled up, hugging her knees. She was still shaking. Taking her notebook up again, she wrote as carefully as she could so her letters remained neat.

Please stop this. Whatever it is you want, I have nothing to give you. I am nothing.
“Oh, is that so? So you didn’t sneak into Wine River? You didn’t keep Alex safe? You didn’t help break us free of the prison?” Lorica pulled her knife out again, lifting it over her head. She stabbed it into the corpse’s arm with sudden violence, carving off a chunk of flesh. It fell to the floor, filling the cramped air of the storeroom with the metallic reek of fresh blood. The corpse was fresh enough it was still warm. “It took someone coming along to help me see how tightly I was bound to him. Someone to show me I wasn’t just a bloody knife. Someone who let me be a knight, with the armor and code of honor and all of that. A real knight.”

“So the way I see it, you have two choices. First, you can eat this. You can be the dog he claims you are. You can crawl back to him, curl up by his hearth, and wait for the next time he decides you’re not worth keeping alive.”
She waved a dismissive hand at the oozing slab of meat. “Or we can go up there. Have some soup. Be the knight you want to be. Go back to Balefire.” She jerked her chin towards Anci. “Protect us and we’ll protect you, Sparky. No one will treat you like a dog again. If they do... ” Lorica thrust the dagger into the corpse’s chest, leaving it quivering in the body.
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