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Post by Weaver of Fates on Nov 22, 2015 20:24:14 GMT -5
[[Please note that this is a time sensitive RP. It will be locked the day before our first event.]] Back amongst the crowd of settlers and caravans making their way toward the new settlement, the baron’s knight Sir Jacob Barnes calls a meeting. Everyone meets in front of his caravan at noon, a wide variety of individuals from across the barony along mingling with outsiders who traveled to the barony with the intent of joining the new settlement.
The knight walks out of his caravan. He is heavily armored, a wild elf with long brown hair and broad shoulders. He has the look of a man who’s been through several battles, his eyes alert and his expression set with determination.
He clears his throat before making his announcement. His accent is foreign and difficult to place. “The baron still intends to settle near the nexus despite the threats that are in the area. The undead in the area show no signs of intelligence, meaning that they’re probably feral. The baron wants them dealt with, but at this point it’s more important to secure the area necessary for the new settlement than it is to clear out the undead. There were also shades discovered in the area. From what the scouts reported, the shades have been killed off and this seems like an isolated incident. However, the fact that shades were traveling and working together is concerning. They usually hunt alone. If more shades are spotted, they need to be cleared out as quickly as possible.
“There are kriegen in the area that seem to be hunting for kobolds who defected from their group. Since they haven’t requested any help, they are to be left alone unless they specifically ask for assistance. The kobolds have been setting traps in the area, but I planned ahead for something like this. I managed to get someone who’s familiar with traps to settle with us. Assuming everything goes smoothly, the traps shouldn’t be a problem. Right, Alicia?”
At this he casts a sharp glare toward a fox therian near the back of the group. The hush that follows is only broken by her chatter. The man that she’s talking to nudges her and points toward the knight. She stops, turning back toward the knight and noticing that everyone is staring at her. “Um... what?”
The knight sighs. “Exactly. Anyways. In the baron’s eyes, the only true threat is the Circle of the Thorn. It seems like we’ve got a militant circle of druids who have claimed the forest as their own. But not really, because they think the forest doesn’t belong to anyone. The baron thinks that they’re the true threat to the area, so we’re sending out a party ahead of the settlers to kill the druids and secure the area. Despite my judgment, we’re going ahead with the settlement and we’ll take care of the problems as they come. I’ll be sending my best squire along with the advanced party, so if you run into any trouble you’ll have his support.”
With that, the knight turns around and enters his caravan, closing the door behind him. The crowd gradually disperses.
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Post by Weaver of Fates on Nov 22, 2015 20:32:04 GMT -5
As the door to Jacob's caravan closes, Alicia rolls her eyes. "I mean really, how rude can you get? Did he really have to call me out in front of the whole town like that?" She turns back to where her companion had been standing, only to discover that he was no longer there. The man had discreetly left without her noticing. Her ears slump as she realized that she had been abandoned. "Oh... well then..." She sighs and dejectedly starts making her way back toward the small, makeshift tent that she'd set up by one of the other caravans.
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Post by mulcibaer on Nov 26, 2015 0:11:46 GMT -5
Jace sits at the improvised table, a hooped barrel covered with a tattered off beige linen. The chair's seen better days, a wobbly thing and gnarly in the most discomforting of places. He shelves the matter for the time being, scanning the thin crowd for his contact. The linen walls of the tent hang lazily, the breeze of the past week a distant memory. Like most of their ilk, these settlers would rather pretend to permanence in these elaborate tent buildings than the simple, well and oft used gear of the traveling class. This particular tent was ten feet at the eaves, and large enough for the fire heating the hanging grill to not fill the space with smoke. There is the cook, a great pale Wildan wolf, his nose a twitch at his stew. Likely had a thousand and one spices to go in it, all planned and schemed for maximum effect. There goes his assistant, a lithe elven maid. The absent look on her face betrays the practiced ease with which she handles her knives, dicing and chopping ingredients under the wolves watchful eye. And here again is the gaggle of unkempt settlers, all 5 of them, the same set that always seem ready to break down and move along. Poor dolts, must be getting tired of using this ostentatious tent. Interrupting Jace's impatient musings is the fluttering of many layers of silk as a short and fat Ioden traipses inside. Dressed down in what must be fashionable in more civilized lands, he could not look more out of place, nor more at ease. His stony brow furrowed and stony mouth at the angle of a half jest, his unheard words to the Wildan likely twice dripped in honey. Frakel Quick-eye was here, and Jace could only hope he could get a fair price for his trinket.
"Good day to you, Lord Quick-eye. I presume the trade prospects down here in Wintersbane must have you somewhat busy, so I won't waste much of your time. I've come across a trinket, an locketwith some sort of sea creature on it. I imagine it has some value, and I further imagine that you could offer me some silver for it, or at least information about it."
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Post by thewolfinman on Nov 27, 2015 8:29:52 GMT -5
The fat ioden turns to Jace with mirth on his face and hold out his arms welcomingly.
After a moment his face sours to a dissaproving glower. "Jaycy, you really need to dress better. Some nice clothes, or at least clean ones, and a little ostentation! The sleeping god does not take pleasure in bland dreams." His tone was that of a dissaproving priest, as that was essentially what he was. Frakel was something of a high nose in the religious community following the sleeping god Somnaeous.
His glower soon returned to its naturally amused nature and he hed out his hand for the trinket. "Let me see." He pauses for a moment and reaches into his many folds to obtain a small glass to look more closely at the item. "Not terribly old unfortunatly, I can always peddle old feces as antiques and artifacts, this is far to shiny. Not terribly recent either, better smithing has spread since this was made. I would say within the last decade but no more recent than mayhaps 3 years ago."
He flipped the locket to its front side. "Oh my!" A sudden cloud crosses his face. A dark thought and a sudden realization.
"Oh Jaycy...where did you get this? I knew you had some interesting tastes but this..."
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Post by mulcibaer on Nov 27, 2015 15:29:49 GMT -5
Jace plucked at his hood, all to aware of the his current poverty and none too pleased to have his shabby and road - worn garb mocked. He ignores the mockery, however troubling it would be to have a meddler like Frakel looking into his personal matters.
"I was part of that scouting force sent ahead of the settlers. We encountered a few persons of interest, and I retrieved that from one of their corpses. Now you have it, and I would have a straight answer. And what do you mean, interesting tastes?"
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Post by thewolfinman on Nov 27, 2015 22:27:42 GMT -5
Puzzled, perplexed and perturbed Quick-eye scrutinized Jace.
"Not many people have a taste for roving the wilds carving up persons of interest Jace."
Frowning he shook his head and his many earrings slowly. They made a chiming jingle that seemed almost jovial.
"The only persons of interest that would have these on them would be dead. This is the sigil of the Faracost family out of Newport. Each of their family members is given one of these at birth and ONLY family members. It is considered a disownable offense to trade one or sell it. They treat them as their soul Jace."
The serious concern on Quick-eye's face seemed horribly out of place.
"You see they are buried with them. Owing to the relative dating of this piece It seems likely this came from Ballast, their RECENTLY DECEASED heir apparent."
Turning the coin over in his hand his manner softened slighty.
"I cant sell this. Not on this coast. Mayhaps with some travel I couold sell it as a nice piece. I can do 10 silver for it, but honestly its worth much more to their family. I would buy it and turn it in myself, but I don't want to answer those questions. Who exactly is this person of interest you found this on?"
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Post by mulcibaer on Nov 29, 2015 15:11:38 GMT -5
"Undead are heirs to none, priest." Jace says softly.
"From what you say, I venture that locket is worth more and more again. I don't want the troubles it carries, though it is worrisome indeed someone is raising hell, and leaving their creations behind. How did this... Ballast... die? I need to know details. Who were his associates? Keep the coins, if they will bring you closer to that knowledge. You have the network, resources, and contacts to reach out of this hole whereas I do not."
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Post by thewolfinman on Nov 30, 2015 15:04:58 GMT -5
"Undead you say? Lady Faracost will be most disturbed. The Faracost family is one of the few groups of people still willing to attempt sea travel. The spend their fortunes on defenses against the Goreki. They make their fortunes on the little trade they are able to achieve and the subsidies granted by the kings. Ballast died on one of these expeditions. As for associates, I will look into it, but I am not quite sure what you wish to achieve."
Quick-eye looks at the locket one more time, turning it in his hand and admiring the tooling.
"I would rather not be seen with this. Take it and bring me something a little less troublesome next time would ya?"
He turns to leave giving the medal back to Jace.
"Good luck and try not to get stabbed. "
With a wave he is gone in a swooshing cloud of cloth and jewelry.
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Post by mulcibaer on Dec 4, 2015 0:13:51 GMT -5
Jace comes to, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He groggily stands, knocking over the barrel table and spilling an untouched flagon of mead - his own. "A dream? Damn that Toad!" he curses to himself. The tent is quiet, all the usual patrons of the makeshift tavern long since gone. The elven maid looks up from a bowl of beans, and speaks with melodic tones that could sooth a wild boar. "We knew you scouts had a hard time, but no more falling asleep here, yes? Next time you'll wake up in the dirt with nary a scrap of cloth on your hide."
Jace nods his assent quietly and leaves out the front flap after righting the barrel, shaking off the linen, and retrieving his mug. At least he has some answers now, he mused. Frakel's words would be true, he was sure, even if given in a dream. That would be all too like the priest... wouldn't want to soil your reputation publicly by visiting one of your puppets, hmm... Jace swore again. Someday, he vows. Someday he will be pulling strings instead of dancing to their beats. Someday soon.
Jace soon finds his way back to the tent and firepit he calls home, waves to his current companions, and goes to sleep. As usual for the last 3 years, he has no dreams. Not even one.
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Post by cjsolo on Dec 5, 2015 18:42:41 GMT -5
The first rays of light of a new day greet the arrival of another traveller to the gathering of caravans and tents gathered along the trail. Dirt and small rocks crunch lightly under her footfalls. She is an above average height humanoid with golden brown hair twisted into braids that hang freely to her waist, each capped by what look like silver beads. Her clothes are dark purple in color and flow freely around her form. Over her clothing, she wears delicately woven chainmail that glitters another shade of purple and is shot through with silver and gold like lightning. In her hand, at her side, is a well made staff. Her strangely pale blue eyes glance over the area with a mix of uncertainty and curiousity.
The lightning Ku'rasi known as Sharara adjusted herself and then moved towards one of the largest of the tents. Pulling back one flap, she looked in on what looked to be a tavern set up with barrel tables and places to sit.
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Post by Tannim Devilin on Dec 5, 2015 21:21:21 GMT -5
Tannim thinks to himself well that was interesting that guy sounds like Uncle Steve always saying go do this go do that but never goes out on his own. I am not sure he really knows what he is doing. Maybe the rumor is true that some officers have paid for there position. He makes it sound like the people we met when we were out there where all nice and not a bother but seriously half of them did not even care what anyone said it was like when Brother Tom got in that argument with Sister Sue he was all you are either with me or against me and I was all we are family what the heck in everything we do is for the better of all of us. Tannim decides he is going to do since he was a young and when he was bored. As all the adult's told him "go read a book" so he looks for the library to research what races he saw in the forest and see if there are books on thieving tools. He smiles to himself starts to whistle a happy tune as he remembers the words his mom always said to him at bed time. "Tannim you are mommies little thief"
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Post by kaelanriverblood on Dec 5, 2015 21:53:54 GMT -5
Gregory and Kaelan arrived at the makeshift settlement a few days later, not having experienced too much trouble. A few bandits here and there that tried to over take their caravan, but soon realized their mistake. Kaelan now had a few extra gold and a few pieces of armor and a few potion bottles that he had no idea what they did. Gregory stopped the caravan in an open area of the camp where it could be seen but not in the way. His caravan was a simple covered wagon on the outside, but as he pulled the cover off, his many wares became apparent. One would also notice he wasn't particularly specialized in what he carried.
Kaelan crossed his arms as he watched the small merchant man toil away. He still hadn't been paid, but he wasn't overly concerned with that. For now he would continue to guard the caravan, protect it from anyone who may have ill intent. His ears constantly rotated as his amber eyes gazed around watching the body language of passer by. He adjusted his weapons and crouched next to the caravan so he didn't feel quite as awkward and out in the open. Greagory looked down at Kaelan, "You can go now if you want. You- oh right, you need to be paid still, sorry." He ruffled through a pouch and handed a few silver coins to the panther man, thanking him for his services. Kaelan nodded and said in an almost purr, "I'll stay and watch for a while. There might be something entertaining to do yet." He mused, an almost devious smirk playing across his features.
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anya
New Member
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Post by anya on Dec 5, 2015 22:05:49 GMT -5
An ice ku'rasi sits inside of the makeshift tavern that has been set up in the center of the caravans and tents heading toward the new settlement. Her shoulder-length hair is shot with streaks of white and silver, and three small crystals branch out from the corners of each of her blue and white rimmed eyes. She sipped her drink quietly and watched the people move through the tent. The sharp aroma of an assortment of exotic spices, cinnamon being the strongest, wafted up from her cup. Her clothing was somewhat fine, a white corset with silver lace over a blue dress bordered with silk. It wasn't anything over elaborate, but it gave her more of a refined appearance than many of the other settlers. She wore a few silver bangles around her wrist, and a simple silver locket hung around her neck.
She watched the other inhabitants of the tavern, lost in thought as she sipped her tea. It was an interesting assortment of travelers, to be sure. Only time would tell if this particular journey would prove to be more lucrative than the last. As Sharara entered the tent, Anya met her eyes and smiled. It was good to see another of her people. She gestured toward one of the other barrels at her table in invitation.
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rake
New Member
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Post by rake on Dec 5, 2015 22:19:39 GMT -5
Sitting rather uncomfortably at another makeshift chair in the makeshift tavern was a very finely dressed Oni Kriegen. Clad in heavily patterned silks that accentuated his bluish green skin he sipped what looked like a strong dark ale with a piece of bark steeping in it. He appears to be sore, uncomfortable, irritable and in more than just a little pain. His corner appears to be the most shielded from light. Finishing his concoction he strokes the many small horns that make up his beard and calls over what pases for a tavern girl. "Miss, I require another brown ale of mysterious origin." This last bit seems to hint his distaste for the common brew. As she walks off to fetch some more with more than a little sass he pulls another piece of bark from a sachel on his hip. A small glass orb falls out and rolls off towards one of the other tables...
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Post by cjsolo on Dec 6, 2015 14:41:59 GMT -5
Sharara's gaze settles a moment on the Oni Kriegen, considering him for a curious moment. It was then that her passing gaze met that of Anya's. Sharara's smile was immediate on seeing the ice touched Ku'rasi, pleased to see one of her own people. With no hesitation, she moved towards where the woman was sitting. Sharara stopped, however, as a small glass orb rolled into her path from the direction of the Oni. Curiousity not failing her, she stooped to pick it up and take a look. She turned, then, to the Oni. "This is yours, I think." Said as she offers the small orb to the stranger.
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