Adventurers-Upon-Return · Legacy archive
Convergence (Chap IV)
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Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#161"I just hope I can find a smith who works besides common swords, daggers, and what have you. These belonged to my grandmother, I don't want to chance having an amateur work them." She laughed at the second part of Aerex's comment. "Oh, come on. You really don't believe what that awe-struck and slightly muddle-headed guardsman in Ganse said, do you? The odds of my father being anyone of importance are vanishingly small. But of course, that," she said after considering, "will make it all the harder to find him. I just hope he's not a sailor or some such; only the ancestors would know where he was then." -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#162"My atonement will require deed, Brother, as much as faith. I would speak to the learned and faithful Brothers here, in order to seek their aid in reopening my eyes and heart to the Lord... And to seek the knowledge to deal with the ska. I will need help to find those ones." Adan's voice was low, as he spoke beneath the words of the elven knight to his Brother, having intimate enough knowledge of the Jantir of several years past to recall the tourist's packet of information, and to add to it in his mind, Such hives of scum and villainy. I did not miss this place at all.
Ears sharp enough to pick up some of Talia's words, though not all, the withdrawn man finally spoke. "Seek among the Granite Quarter, fair lady. You may chance to find one who has such skill that he may care for all manner of weapons. You would not care to pay the price of those who specialize in the exotic and the concealable."
Sister, I shall recall to write you, as well, whilst messengers are here to be had. -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#163A Brief Glimpse of Jantir
The gates were open now as a new cluster of travelers was allowed inside, by the ever-vigil guard, perched like birds of prey upon the wall, and peering below at the latest arrivals.
The companions entered Jantir and an almost immediate assault of the senses began. The air smelled of the sea, of frying oils, and of musky human scents, both pleasant and otherwise. The city was over-ripe with visitors, and the air suffered for it.
Their eyes took in the wide boulevard, wrought of ancient sea-stone, presenting itself to the companions, stretching east and south across the city toward the temple districts, the docks and the bay. Minarets and spires of granite and porphyry, onion domed halls and temples with shining, gilded crests dominated the city center. The ears of the companions were likewise bombarded (shockingly so after all those months in the wilderness) by a cacophony of sounds, too many all at once to identify any single source. Numerous stalls, filled with screaming hawkers lined the great street, with every imaginable item for sale. Though proper markets were deeper inside the city, enterprising (and licensed) merchants, second-rate craftsmen, and most likely charlatans galore, were taking advantage of the influx of travelers. Shamelessly, the hawkers goaded all passers-by, the adventurers-upon-return included, as the group began to slowly stroll east along the boulevard. some were home, some returned with past memories of the city, and some were in complete bewilderment (Voro?)
An uncountable swarm of people, paraded the streets, with a particular emphasis on the religiously-inclined. Priests of every known and unknown faith, cultists, pagans, prophets, monks, penitents, worshipers, wise-men, and fools, proliferated up and down the boulevard preaching their respective causes and debating dogma beneath the shining sun. Guards, mounted and on foot were everywhere, many wearing various stylized bird-headed helms, indicating rank and office. A recent tradition, these helms were the latest whim of Larnassa, the Split-Lipped self-styled “Queen” and the Jantir’s current Dynast, as Aerex soon learned inquiring of a random passer by, as to the nature of the weird helms of the guardsmen.
Further ahead the Temple district could be seen, it could after all not be mistaken for any other district, and it was in this direction, the companions noticed, where the most people seemed to be congregating, as dusk began to fall. The streets were nearly impassable this way, and even Adan and Tristan chose to wait before heading there upon their holy business.
The companions continued down the main boulevard taking in the sites, each silent, thinking their own thoughts, until finally Kyrian and Aerex suggested the group head to an inn, eat, rid the dust of the road from their throats with drink, and speak of plans.
For the next few moments, as Talia and Vorodon continued gawking at the sites, while Adan and Tristan began conversing quietly and Kasin Mirinar simply looked around nervously as if searching for or trying to remember something, Aerex and Kyrian were busy arguing as to which inn the companions should visit. Finally, because splitting up would be so easy to do later, the two agreed on humble Wagner’s establishment in Windside. Kasin Mirinar, overhearing the conversation agreed to play the bard, as Wagner’s was famous for allowing its patrons free ale and sausage for those inclined to perform for their suppers.
Windside, and therefore Wagner’s, was also strategically somewhat away from the hustle and bustle of the central districts, and furthermore, Aerex remembered that Wagner’s was a favorite haunt of someone he knew quite well. It was decided upon, and the group headed to Wagner’s. An hour later, Kyrian scolded the stable boy into treating Herald, as if he was the gods’ own mount, and the group entered the establishment.
It was almost as if Jantir came and went in a blur, Talia thought. It seemed impossible to get a sense of the metropolis upon first go around.
Jantir, and its many sights and wonders would have to wait. Wagner’s was busy, but not as packed as other places around town. For now, the surroundings were familiar. Smoke, loud music, and an absolutely amazing amount of smoked sausages, making their way around the taproom on silver platters, courtesy of a beleaguered staff, were the main sites in Wagner’s. Just now, a sorry excuse for a free-loafing bard was physically tossed from the impromptu stage for sounding like a cuckoo in heat.
A table was found, and for the first time in a long time, seven members of the adventurers-upon-return sat down to dine together, though each one, could be bothered with little other than their own thoughts.
Kinda like a transition post. You can post, or wait. Either way, I'll post anew tomorrow -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#164Aerex quietly nursed his ale mug, ignoring most of the activity around him and simply staring out the window. It was a lot to take in; the city hadn't been this crowded in years. The familiarity of the metropolis was distantly refreshing, like a memory renewed by reminiscing with an old friend. Even so, Jantir still stunk - both literally and figuratively. He'd spotted at least two constables he knew to be corrupt still on duty. Perhaps they'd been reprimanded or demoted or something - anything - but it was unlikely. Jantir's not changed a bit, he thought. Out the window, he could see the Grand Ramparts that kept imagined enemies out and the hordes of citizens in. He spotted a niche near one of the parapets, unchanged since he'd last seen it.
* * *
Damiel grunted, shifting his weight on the unsteady pile of bricks sitting at the foot of the wall. "Can y'see it?" he asked.
"Yeah," Aerex responded distantly, in a hush. Pop pushed him up higher, high enough to grab onto the ledge and steady himself as he looked over the Grand Ramparts and out into the countryside. Below were the vendors and merchants he'd always heard hawking wares outside the gates, the many travelers meandering in from the highway, soldiers in shining war gear keeping watch over the jewel that was Jantir. In the distance, rolling hills ran into smashing seas, the brilliant setting sun gilding the scene in golden light. The boy's eyes could hardly take it all in. "Hey Pop."
"Yeah?" Damiel replied.
"Y'think we'll ever leave the city?"
Damiel smirked. "Well now why would we go an' do somethin' like that?" he asked. "Jantir's the place to be, boy. Matares've been making their mark here for nigh on five - no, six generations. Why change what works?"
Aerex shurgged, the breeze brushing dark hair into his face. "Iunno. I bet there's lotsa stuff out there." He poked his head downward. "Come look."
The two shifted positions enough so that they were both wedged in the tall crack of the rampart, looking out into the horizon. "It does look somethin' spectacular, son," Damiel said quietly. "From here, at least. Y'know what else is out there, though? There's ogres an' giants an' bandits an' rampaging hordes of Whosits and Whatsits." His jaw tightened. "Lots out there that's ready to squish you like a bug. In here, we get all the good stuff and not so much of the bad stuff. Make sense?"
Aerex fidgeted. "I guess so." He had seen enough "bad stuff" for a six year old. Only one murder, but enough muggings and sneakings and robberies. Between the dirty streets of the city and the distant monsters of the outside world, he'd take his chances on those golden hills. "I wish it were better in here."
Damiel looked down at his son, then nudged him with his elbow. "Hey, you listen here. You wanna see somethin' change here? Then change it. Only way it'll ever get done." He shifted uncomfortably. "Dynast's toes, this hole's too small for the two of us. I'm gettin' down." He shfited and slipped down onto the ground a few feet below Aerex. "Y'almost done?"
Aerex nodded. "Yeah, okay." He began to shift his weight down when he heard something from above. He looked over to his right down the wide wall - nothing. "Pop?" he asked. Aerex looked down to see the heel of his father's boot, attached to his swiftly moving legs. Before he could utter a sound, Damiel disappeared into the shadows of an alley. "P-!" Before he could finish the syllable, Aerex felt something grab his shirt and yank him upward.
He met face to face with a burly, stubbled creature wearing the browns and blues of the Royal Guard. "Wot's this?" he sneered. "Li'l man tryin' to sneak up the wall, eh?" He jabbed Aerex in the chest with his finger, still holding the boy aloft. "You know what the punishment is fer trespassin' on the Dynast's wall?" All Aerex could do was shiver and recoil in fear.
"Let 'im down, Rill," another voice came from behind. Aerex's frightened eyes shifted to see another tall, burly guard, but this one was grinning slightly. A thick blond mustache hung from his lip. "Kid found a hole in our wall, that ain't his fault. Hell, we should be thankin' him."
Rill grunted, lowering Aerex onto the wall. "I dunno 'bout that, Anton. Er, Lieutenant Therond now," he corrected himself.
Therond crossed his arms. "Well I do, Deputy Typas. An' I'm sayin' we should be thankin' him." He took a step forward and squatted down to Aerex's level. "What's yer name, boy?"
Aerex gulped. "A- Aerex Matare, sir."
Therond nodded, smiling. "Well, thank you for finding that hole in our wall, Mr. Matare. We'll make sure to fix it. You jus' make sure not to climb it again. Ain't too safe, eh?" Aerex nodded awkwardly. Therond grinned and slapped a hand on his shoulder. "Off with ya, boy. Stay outta trouble."
Aerex nodded, scrambled down the wide crack in the wall, and ran off away from the wall. Wondering where his father was, he began to weep.
* * *
Matare took a long swig, draining the rest of his ale mug. He sighed. "Jantir looks better when it's not so crowded," he said almost out of the blue to Talia. "You'll have to see it again after the convergence." -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#165"I don't know," Talia said to Aerex after a moment. "Cities are all well and good for a few days, maybe even a month. But it's so noisy here... it's like there's a desperation to get all you can. And everything is so large and there's so much of it, it's hard to get any kind of sense of the city." She looked around idly. She didn't yet know how much she liked the great city. The architecture she'd seen was nice, yes, but a city was comprised of more than buildings. So far, the city overwhelmed her; she was used to much smaller towns and a much less cacaphonous existance. She didn't really like being overwhelmed. She finished off her own ale. "I suppose that most of the swarms of people are here for this Convergence, then?" -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#166"Ah, it's the people who make Jantir, otherwise it would amount to little more than a town of ghosts. It's the people who are it's blood, both the virtuous and the wicked. And the crowds? Jantir is known to welcome everyone into its fold, like a good-hearted harlot, interested in but your pleasure and your coin. 'Tis true that you can find yourself drugged and nude as the day you were born, or on the wrong side of her pimp, who wears a crown instead of a feathered hat, but that are the risks of life."
He sipped from a mug of thick black beer, and poked Aerex with his elbow: "At least inside the city, the muggers are closer to our size, than the highwaymen, or rather highwayhulks, in the mountains. Of course, in these days, we have the danger of clergy running rampant with the nearing of the Convergence. Still, most clerics give you a choice about whether your money lands in their coffers. As to answer your question, Talia - yes, Jantir is about one percent less crowded when there is no Convergence."
Then, his attention was caught by Mirinar ascending the stage. Kyrian slapped his thigh. "Let's hear if our silent compatriot is in the favor of the Muses, what say you?" -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#167Vorodon's head hurt from trying to decipher unfamiliar symbols and writing that the folk of Jantir took for granted. Shuffling through the streets, he tried not to give offense, but found the people here just didn't make room for him the way folk from less populous areas had. Crushed toes and jostled elbows seemed to be commonplace in Jantir's crowded streets.
Near the inn, a shop had caught his eye. He couldn't make out the strange script of the place's gaudy sign, but a brightly-polished corselet was visible through the glazed windows. Perhaps this armorer could mend his battered ancestral harness, the Volgottir reasoned.
Ducking through the shop's wide doorway, he could tell that he had come to the right place. Beautiful examples of the armorer's craft gleamed on tables and stands, and books contained detailed sketches of even more elaborate gear available to those discriminating nobles able to afford the artists' staggering rates.
The shop's proprietor rushed to intercept the looming goliath, alarm written on his features. He had several noble customers in the shop, and didn't relish such an oaf interfering with his sale. "Ogre-thing! Whoever your master is, has he no sense? Go around to the back! My man Fetzenatz will see to you!"
"Vorodon stanns under," the massive warrior nodded agreeably as he shambled through the immaculate chamber. Muddy footprints and tables knocked askew marked his progress through the indignant merchant's once-elegant displays. To one side, a group of effete-looking noblemen seemed caught between awe and amusement at the awkward brute's trail of destruction.
In the shop's back room, a harried-looking leatherworker energetically snipped picadils into the edges of an armored jousting saddle. Apparently, this apron-clad man was Fetzenatz. A large-eyed little girl clung to him, frightened by Vorodon's unkempt arrival.
"Vorodon hofe for to folish armor ancestor harness," the hill warrior requested, pointing to the rusted and dented iron plates of his battle gear.
The leatherworker smiled vacantly back at him, as if the volgottir had been talking in some foreign tongue. Nodding enthusiastically, the man held up an elegantly-tooled jack adorned with elfin motifs. "Want for buy arm boulli?"
Vorodon tried not to frown, as he didn't want to further distress the little girl. "Vorodon armor mud rust!" He paused to concentrate on the right word order: The common tongue's strange articles could be hard to remember. "The... THE mud rust THE armor THE harness my! Vorodon ned folish." Having successfully expressed his needs, the half-ogre smiled, which caused the little girl to shrink further behind her father's sheltering apron.
Fetzenatz smiled again, nodding with apparent comprehension. "Not foolish! Mood to buy armor boulli?" he suggested, hopefully.
Suddenly, the proprietor stuck his head in from the front room. "Fetzenatz has taken care of your request, I trust? Good, good!" the man offered helpfully, not lingering to hear any possible response.
It was going to be a long day, Vorodon decided. -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#168Though he had said little throughout the meal so far, Adan did, at last, speak, though flatly, with neither distaste or joy. "The protection of walls is welcome, even if too many are within." Instead, he would have appeared to have spent most of the meal paying more attention to his own table manners than to the conversation, each motion impeccable, despite the rough surroundings. "... And I pray he sings well. I do not think they would care much for the music I have learned here." A brief nod, as if to confirm his own sentences, followed by a shrug, and he fell silent once more. Soon enough, it would be time to leave for the temple. -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#169Tristan smiled slightly at the small joke, and turned his ear to the stage where Mirinar was standing up to sing. Hopefully he'd sing sweet melodies to the patrons. However, the priest was also fervently praying that the trip to the temple would be uneventful. With this many pilgrims, inter-faith violence was almost inevitable between those of Trigu and those of a more...darker persuasion. -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#170Temple Ward
Adan, Tristan, Kyrian
In the morning Adan, Tristan, and Kyrian had set out to the temple district, carrying the holy symbols recovered from the verbeeg. Kyrian led the way, pointing out further establishments, wondering out loud as to the whereabouts of various old paramours and even older acquaintances, and commenting on the city at large. Despite the elf’s haughty and sometimes disrespectful manner, the Triguains had accepted the knight, and he in turn them, and a strange trio did they seem, as they strolled along the promenade.
Adan and Tristan walked quietly for the most part, Adan thinking his sullen thoughts, and painfully reminded of the proximity of the Hellschwert estate, only several miles north and east of the city, while Tristan looked about hoping that the inevitable inter-faith squabbles were kept to a minimum in the packed streets. To his pleasant surprise they were. A kind of unwritten rule he wagered. After all, with the upcoming symposium, it seemed that even so-called dark cultists and unholy pagans were on their best behaviors. That is not to say that conflicts did not spring up. Just now Tristan noticed two priests, one of the Daalraen faith, one of dour Drowned God, being pulled apart physically by bemused city guardsmen, as both priests shouted great insults at one another at the tops of their lungs, both insisting the other was the blasphemer.
The temple district as it was the previous day, was overflowing with people.
After making their way through throngs of monks and priests, occasionally acknowledged and greeted by other Triguains, the trio approached the temple, and entered the hallowed halls. While Adan and Tristan knelt in prayer, Kyrian scrunched his nose, and looked around. He was dressed in his casual chain shirt now, the Carmine Rose, sheathed at his side, his feline countenance plain for all to see.
Soon Tristan rose, and whispered to a nearby worshiper. The man pointed toward a corridor and Tristan nodded.
“Come” he gestured to the knight and the two went to return the stolen relics and symbols of Trigu, deeper inside the temple proper.
The elven knight had been thanked by the priest who was bequeathed the relics, while Tristan had explained how they had come to possess these items, and of the bravery and ardor of the elf, in the recapture of the items.
Soon after, Kyrian emerged, and walked outside once more, the incense-laden aroma of the temple, beginning to itch his nose. Tristan was still inside inquiring on attending the upcoming Symposium, as was Adan, tending to his own affairs, but the companions had agreed to rendezvous later at another one of Kyrian’s suggested inns, the one where someone named Shalaya, could be found.
Without further ado, having had his fill of the Temple Quarter, the knight strode forth with a beaming smile, toward his chosen establishment, a warm feeling in his heart and loins.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Trigu, our Lord. The same yesterday and to-day and for ever”, sang the kneeling masses, sandwiched along the gilded pews, led by robed senior priests, who were swinging censers of sweet-smelling incense as they led their congregation
“What ails you, man, that you should look so pale and wan? Surely the world’s iniquities."
After making his way through crowded streets and waiting all morning beside Trigu’s temple, Adan was ushered inside by several acolytes of the faith. Quietly he sat a while longer, praying at Trigu’s altar, several rows back form countless other worshippers who had risen even earlier than the Hellscwhert scion had risen, or perhaps had simply slept in the very streets outside the temple the previous night.
After several more hours, he was once more ushered by a nervous-looking acolyte, this time deeper into the temple, and told to sit beside a smaller alter, and to wait. Looking around, Adan could see words etched into the porphyry wall, lit as it was, by several magical sconces, each giving off a divine light but no heat.
He that hath an ear, let him hear what Trigu saith.
And Adan heard the prayers from the adjacent chamber just then...
O Trigu, ease my head,
O set thy hand against my back;
So many years and I am not dead
But rive in sunder on the rack.
Adan’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted as a plain-robed man, young, much younger than Adan, with a shorn head, paltry beard, and the deepest blue eyes Adan had ever seen, came up behind him.
No high-priest this was, but a bishop of Jantir’s Temple.
He repeated his words once more, soft and sibilant.
“What ails you, man, that you should look so pale and wan?” -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#171Kyrian
“O many a time he flees and flies across the uplands airy,
And fierce he is, and fleet he is, and light and wight and wary,
And bravely famed in faery lore
By many a hunter sought of yore...”
The Ballad of the Panther Unleashed was being sung by a middling bard, as Kyrian strode inside the Once-Proud Goose. Recognizing the knight, the bard in turn nodded, and sang even louder now, a smile playing on his lips between stanzas.
How apropos, Kyrian thought, adn looked around the establishment, a grin from ear to ear adorning his fine, feline features.
Shalaya noticed Kyrian as well, but at first pretended she had not, turning toward one of the other patrons instead, and engaging the merchant in idle banter.
“He has not changed at all. He looked the same this day, Shalaya thought, as the day he had left three years ago. She remembered how she had been smitten by the knight after her first sight of him in the gladiatorial arena. She remembered wondering if his flesh-blade was as potent as his steel one. She remembered—a familiar clump suddenly welled inside her stomach, and seemingly made its way up through her heart and throat.
“Curses. Now he returns. Two weeks too late, ” she thought to herself, even as she nodded, feigning interest in whatever the Dynast’s herald, Shouting Symeon, was saying to her at the moment.
“So, then, milady, as I was saying”, the foppish blonde-haired youth went on, eyeing Shalaya’s perspiring bosom. “If indeed I was able to score an invitation to the Split-Lipped Queen’s celebration for you, how will thee favor me in return? Mmm?” he leered lasciviously at her now, oblivious to the fact that Shalaya had not heard a single word, but was instead all a’twitter inside, at Kyrian’s entrance.
"Who's that?" Symeon suddenly spoke before Shalaya could answer him, finally aware that her attention, however subtle, was focused on the the inn's newest visitor, and not on him.
"That, my dear Symeon" Shalaya said, "is Kyrian. Kyrian the slayer, the lover, the betrayer, the scoundrel, the rapscallion and the endlessly wicked" she purred with a twinkle in her sea-green eyes, then turned to face Symeon once more.
"Now then, you were saying, dear Symeon?" she said, not wanting Kyrian to notice her gawking at him.
"Uhh-I-uh" replied Symeon, as he now blatantly stared at the knight. -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#172"And this, if I am not mistaken - which would be a fool's mistake to make - is Shallaya, the ever-reborn orchid, first to be kissed by the evening dew, and the reason why the sun does rise, the sole cause why the stars do shine" he grinned broadly. "The chief cause of madness in Jantir; six out of seven men to leap off the Dynast's Triumph Bridge die with her name on their lips, scorched with love unrequitted. What mortal could hope to inflame her heart, what man believes himself worthy of her merest glance?"
Closer he came, reminiscing of days past. How he took the humble post of guard at the red-light establishment after his falling-out with his 'aunt', after he left her marble halls and quit the blood-stained sands; how he was a confidant to the working girls, yet to Shallaya so far more.
He reached out, and brushed her cheek lightly. "Now I feel complete" he smiled.
After exchaning a glance with her, he jovially shifted his attention to Symeon, shaking his hand. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, young sir. I hope this noble haven has been soothing to your spirit and senses. Now, if you would excuse us..."
The knight turned away, forgetting the surprised noble.
Shallaya was the one he came to see.
"But a moment of your time in privacy I humbly ask." -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#173Kasin sat quietly at the table. It seemed busy for so early in the day. He waited patiently for the others to arrive.
H pulled out a parchment and ink, quickly scribbling a note. He handed it to the barmaid with the instructions to give it to one of his companions, Aerex.
The room was filling up fast for morning feast. He stood slowly, looking at the innkeeper behind the bar. A promise had been made…
He brushed his long red curls from his face and feigned a scowl.
“Come now” the innkeeper shouted “these people asked a song, and now you must sing it!”
Hiding a satisfied grin he reached for his travel worn yarting. The crowd quieted, waiting for the bard. Clearing his throat, he strummed the yarting and began to sing...
“When the enemy's surrounding,
and we think our nerves will fail,
when we hear the trumpets sounding,
and they make us quake and quail,
grab your mug and we'll be pounding
down another round of ale!
And we'll drink,
to the glory of adventure!
If there ever comes the day
when we think that we are lost,
when we think that we must pay
that most dear and final cost,
we'll just pass around the tray,
and feel better when we're sauced!
And we'll drink,
to the glory of adventure!
When we're angry and upset,
'cause we ain't been getting paid,
when we're tired, cold and wet,
and a little bit afraid,
we'll keep drinking and forget
that we ever were dismayed!
And we'll drink,
to the glory of adventure!
When the boredom makes us jumpy,
and the motion makes us ill,
when the food is cold and lumpy,
a disgusting, slimy swill,
there's no reason to be grumpy;
tap the keg, and drink your fill!
And we'll drink,
to the glory of adventure!
When the captain's really sore,
'cause he thinks he's being mocked,
when he's pounding on our door,
and we're certain to get socked,
have a drink, and tease him more;
we'll feel nothing if we're crocked!
And we'll drink,
to the glory of adventure!”
The bard finished playing and leaned the yarting on a close chair.
Looking to the door, he said "I am sorry but this story must end for a time." He turned towards his pack as the crowd began to protest.
He strapped on his sword belt and hefted his pack onto his shoulder.
"I must go for a while, I have to meet a friend down the road" he said as he picked up his yarting. He carefully hooked it to his pack and slid his arm through the other strap "but I will return soon, I promise…"
As he headed to the door he shook many of their hands, some of them palming a copper or two for his performance.
He lifted a stout walking staff from a barrel by the door and waved over his shoulder as he left.
And down the road I go…
(Lyrics reprinted by permission)
-
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#174Adan - The Bishop's Chambers
Not quite surprised, but not quite expectant of what stood before him, Adan half started, and half smiled at the quiet, simple question and the poetry of it. From where he knelt by the altar, he could only turn slightly, though he did not get up from the ground, even if his eyes might have risen to look at the other. "Many things, my brother, but no more so than mine own error."
"Thine error? Surely thine errors can be fixed with deed and prayer"
And to this, a deep sigh from Adan, as he shook his head softly. "I allowed my eyes to be blinded, sir, and let myself be lead by anger and rage. I have slain, Brother, and the blood of the innocent is upon my hands. And it was no stranger, but mine own blood, my own sibling. I have been cast out in punishment, and I cannot see the way to return..."
At this the bishop paused in thought, cocking his head slightly, his blue eyes seemingly looking through and behind Adan.... “The mind suffers and the body, cries out.” the bishop said then in a whisper, as he momentarily glanced at Adan’s various scars and healing wounds.
And Adan, in response, could merely lower his gaze from those brilliant eyes, assenting to the truth. "Brother..." For a moment, the wounded paladin's eyes closed, leaving it unclear as of he was speaking to the man before him, or another entirely.
“Your sins are terrible, and it is just that you suffer, my Brother. Your life, could be redeemed, but I know that you probably don't believe that right now. You will not change....will you, brother?", the bishop added and cocked his pale-blonde eyebrow.
"I..." A pause, a memory. "... I ... Under His gaze, all things must grow and change, Brother, or else they wither and die. I have been arrogant... Doth that root of sin still lie within me, that I believe ...?" A deep, and wretched breath from Adan, as he sunk even lower, "... I must begin somewhere."
“You see this pebble?” , the bishop asked rhetorically, lifting up as mooth stone from a small nearby temple fountain, trickling water. It lies in water many years, yet–“ The priest then smashed the pebble with his palm against the marble floor, and picked up several shards. “You see, inside still dry. Many hear the words of Trigu, immersed always in his love, yet many do not listen. Do not let his words penetrate. You came here, brother. That is something. You core is not yet dry. You will begin here. And now. And you have begun."
"In Him, there is always hope. Yes. I must remember that." Despite the sorrow still etched on his face, despite the tears at the edges of his eyes, the smallest of releases could be seen there, for one to look deep within Adan. Some things would be slow. "Brother..."
"Return to your place of birth. Seek out those who would forgive you, brother." The bishop thought a moment then quietly added, "Thine Ska is coming for you now. Face it bravely brother. Trigu be with ye...always." The bishop reached toward Adan and touched his forehead with his open palm, and with his eyes closed, gave unto Adan the simplest of blessings and gently smiled. And then, he opened his eyes once more, and the cerulean motes, bore deeply into Adan's soul... And there, they found the tiniest of sparks of hope.
"Stay in Trigu, Brother. May he keep you and bless you." Knowing himself dismissed, Adan let himself out through the thronging crowds, feeling strangely at peace with them, despite the doubts that plagued his mind from their dark corners, pushed back only slightly by that single spark, and the tiny light it cast of yet. A brief moment, to stand aside and pay the tithe, this time, out of piety and hope that it would help them help another, rather than from simple duty of law.
He would need to begin by finding his traveling companions. Even if he would face it alone, he would need help hunting it. And he would have to gain permission to return to the Citadel. And as he emerged into the sunlight outside, his mind began to compose those letters. Meine geliebten Schwester, ich werde Heim zum dich kommen geben!
(OOC: Built in chat w/ Muro~!) -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#175Aerex stretched as he stepped out of the inn room. He had slept poorly; there were far too many thoughts in his head to sleep properly. Judging by the sun, it was already late in the morning. As he closed the room's door, he noticed a slip of parchment pinned to it. Matare raised an eyebrow and read it:
Aerex,
I seem to be in need of assistance of the sort I am sure you are capable.
Meet me at Zjerzhon's Emporium in Dockside.
Be sure to bring your pack…
K.M.
"Kay Em?" he wondered aloud. Oh, of course. "Kyrian..." He sighed. This did not bode well. He had had plans to take Talia and Vorodon to the smithy shops and get their gear repaired, perhaps look for old friends - or enemies. Whatever issues the needy elf had would probably need to take precedence, though he half considered ignoring the note and leaving Kyrian to fend for himself. But no, he would probably somehow bring the trouble back to them and triple whatever damage would be caused. They'd have to deal with the knight's problem. At least Dockside isn't far from the Trade District, he thought.
Aerex knocked thrice on Vorodon's door. "Hey Voro," he called out, "looks like we got a busy day." -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#176Vorodon's neck ached from resting on the too-small bed, but it wasn't going to get any better laying in that infernal cot. Maybe he'd have more luck with the local armorers today.
Scratching a dozen fresh bites from the bed's inhabitants, the half-ogre shuffled to the door. Throwing it open for Aerax, he groggily began putting on his rust-besmirched armor. Its battered iron and improvised repairs still needed work, but it would have to serve.
He'd spent the previous evening in the inn's common room, straightening, polishing, and sharpening his darts. With fresh leather vanes and the quiver carefully mended, they looked as good as new. -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#177A nod of hers later, Kyrian and Shallaya were off. On the stairs, he saluted one of the girls. "Luna, please take the helm, if you can."
Upstairs they went, the thick carpet muffling the sound of their steps. Apparently, with the Convergence underway, the establishment was brimming with guests - the red lanterns above most of the girls' door spoke of lively usiness even in the bright light of day. Not that daylight mattered much - thick ruddy curtains insulated the rooms from the flow of time, allowing for comfort and intimacy. Why, he had helped with furnishing several of the rooms a few years back.
The second floor was Shallaya's - her quarters, library, bath and guest room. As she unlocked her door, Kyrian lifted her slender frame and carried his former mistress to the divan.
"I have but three things to ask of you: one, that you join me for dinner this evening; second, that you refrain from becoming any more enchanting, for my sanity is already in short supply. Third is most likely the easiest done - I have need of your social graces and attentive ears, for there is a youth I seek."
Briefly, he summed up his first serious employ ever, his rather fresh knighthood, his task. Truth be said, he was less curious about the lass he sought than how Shallaya fared. Kissing her upon the brow, he brushed long raven curls from her face: "I trust you are well...?"
-
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#178Adan and Tristan (Downstairs--Once-Proud Goose)
By the time Adan had reached the Once-Proud Goose, walking slowly and lost in his own thoughts, Tristan had caught up with him as well.
As the two entered the inn, Tristan was telling the sullen Adan about the Symposium, and that in two days time, the young Triguian would himself be participating in the great religious forum.
“Of what should I speak, think you, when my turn comes?” he asked Adan several times, excited about his opportunity.
Adan was about to answer, but just then the two walked inside the doors of the establishment, and were greeted by the pungent smell of perfume. This inn did not look quite right, Tristan thought suddenly. There were few tables, and no food service. There was no barkeep which could be seen, but there were two hulking goliaths, shirtless, arms crossed, standing at the far end of the inn, beside a gossamer, translucent curtain of red-beads, and keeping an eye on the patrons. Tristan immediately recognized the pair to be eunuchs, their hairless chests, bald heads, and soft, almost effeminate features giving them away.
The patrons themselves, were rather innocuous. Here and there men and women spoke in hushed, and sometimes not so hushed tones, sharing cocktails and exchanging pleasantries. Occasionally a couple would disappear behind the far wall's red curtain, arm and arm, and other times, men and women emerged alone.
All in all, it was certainly not difficult for the Triguians to recognize a den of iniquity when they saw one, no matter how casual and quaint this one seemed to be (no garish decorations, no blatant proposals, etc). The atmosphere was relaxed and almost genteel even. It seemed a place friends would come to chat.
As they stood at the entrance, contemplating and looking about for Kyrian, they were approached by a slight, inebriated-looking fellow, with a noticeable paunch and bad teeth.
“Oh-ho! Triguians, eh? bit o' surprise”, he blurted and smiled his crooked smile. “Not often we get those here in da Goose, but with the symposium an’ all, I don’t blame ye!” He chortled on. “See anything or anyone ye like?” another lizard-smile.
"Dont mind Old Lathon" came a female voice from behind the odious, little man. "Priests are welcome" a flaxen-haired beauty smiled, and curtsied ever-so-slightly. "My name is Luna. Drinks?" she cooed, "Our wine is better than our ale, and our wine is not what we're known for", her grin widened as she winked at young Tristan, while a bit put off by his pale, gruff-looking companion.
More posts coming soon! posts for all! bwahaha -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#179Kyrian (Upstairs--Once-Proud Goose)
“I am as well as can be. I marry in a fortnight” She said matter-of-factly, surprising Kyrian.
“As to your first request lover, I acquiesce. As to the second as well, for I fear I cannot become any more enchanting than I already am.” She smiled, nestled tighter against Kyrian’s body and then continued.
“As to the third, we all seek a youth from time to time, do we not? And youth in general I may add. Except you of course, the ageless wonder”, she dropped her glance now, always embarrassed in his presence of her own humanity, meager life-span, and the insidious little wrinkles around her eyes.
After Kyrian related his tale however, she pondered for a few moments in a more serious manner.
“You lost a girl?” she finally smiled again. “A first time for everything lover. Give me a few days to make some inquiries, I will have Old Lathon look into it. If your girl is in the city, we may find her yet. A bird on her shoulder, you say? How quaint.” Shallaya pursed her lips.
“Now then, before we dine, perhaps an appetizer?" She nearly lunged at the knight, wrapping his lithe frame in her long arms, and passionately kissing him.
"Care to mark your rose in yet more dew?" she managed to mumble, between heavy breaths. -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#180Talia, Aerex, Vorodon, and Kasin. Dockside
Aerex and Vorodon met Talia downstairs, and the three soon departed the comforts of the inn, and merged into the chaos of the morning streets.
As they walked Aerex explained the peculiar note he had found from “KM” and Kyrian’s assumed plight at the docks. Talia stared in wonder and surprise all around her as she listened to Aerex. She had literally never seen as many people, crowding the same spaces, as she was seeing now, ever in her life. Vorodon was quiet, still perturbed at the shopkeeper from the previous day who simply refused to understand plain common. The half-ogre looked to be in some discomfort as he likewise gawked at Jantir’s citizenry and its pomp and circumstance. Well, at least my darts are sharp once more, the giant thought, as some scrawny merchant insisted the half-ogre get out of his way.
Aerex took the quickest route he knew, and the trio wound there way past the Temple District, along Draggone’s Way, and across the magnificent Dynast’s Bridge of Triumph. Aerex commented on the sites and sounds around him, and briefly related the history and dichotomy of cultures, two in particular, which had forged Jantir over the centuries into what it was.
As he spoke, Aerex was actually lost in thoughts of his own. His eyes darted to and fro, expecting at any moment to see or notice someone he knew. He remembered the day he left the city, he remembered his father, his colleagues, and the circumstances of his past. All these memories came rushing back in earnest now, the sites, sounds, and smells of his birth city, enhancing his visions.
At last the three paused, as Aerex pointed to an outdoor smithy, situated along Tinsmith’s Plaza.
Maugamer’s Forge, the sign read, and as Aerex explained to Talia., no finer weapon smith existed in Jantir. If anyone could put a proper edge on the Blade-dancer’s fans it was Maugamer the urbanized dwarf, Aerex concluded confidently.
Talia, feel free to leave the fans here to get honed, or come back to do so later, if ye wish
Later still, the companions finally crossed over into Baycity, a part of Jantir as large in area as any other whole city in the Empire.
Here the domes and minarets of the Central District, gave way to more humble buildings and abodes, though there were just as many people in the streets here.
The great feature of Baycity however, other than the tiered streets, and perilously perched shops, was the blue-green waters of the Bay of Screaming Eagles, with a thousand ships and boats bobbing in the harbor, and a thousand times that in gulls and other birds, circling overhead, whitening the skies with their flocks, and screeching in a deafening cacophony. It was truly a site to behold, and the aroma of the sea permeated the air, as the three companions descended along the tiered, narrow streets and into the din and clamor of the docks.
Here the air suddenly smelled more of fish than the sea itself, and Aerex now paused and looked about once more, finally spying the mile-long outdoor market of fish-mongers known locally as Zjerzhon’s Emporium, where countless outdoor stalls and stone slabs, featured every creature of the known sea for sale, and some that weren’t known, some alive, some dead, some dried and salted. Fish-mongers screamed over one another, and brandished their fish knives, as almost every few minutes, more and more fish were brought from the nearby ships and boats for the fish-mongers to butcher and sell.
At that moment, Aerex spotted a man he once knew well, and his heart skipped a beat. Speaking to a filthy looking fish-monger was an aging gentleman, square-chinned with a shaven bald head, in his late sixties by his appearance, and sporting a maze of wrinkles around his eyes, his poorly-tanned forehead shining in the sun. Thyran Domavaulage was far from his supply shop in the Central District this day, Aerex thought and smiled.
Just then, as Aerex stared at his old friend, Vorodon, sharp-eyed as ever spotted the another man, a man the half-ogre still remembered best for his mad dash down the hill at the verbeeg, one Kasin Mirinar.
The bard looked about nervously, as he wandered the stalls of Zjerzhon’s Emporium, stopping occasionally to examine drift-wood tables laden with stinking fish. He had not apparently noticed Vorodon, Aerex or Talia as of yet.
more to come actually, but feel free to post -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#181Taking in the surroundings of the Once-Proud Goose with those weary eyes, Adan's left eyebrow could not help but rise one notch, his grim expression otherwise difficult to read for a long moment. Until, at last, the two accosted, his Brother in faith propositioned, his head tilted back faintly, and a sound that had not passed his lips in many a month did so once more. Laughter, deep and rich and real.
"Brother, our fried Kyrian is a trickster indeed, it would seem." A shake of his head, and he stepped forwards past the old man, with a smile and a gesture of something like appreciation towards him, before bowing towards Luna, as deep and precisely as if he were speaking to one of his own station, his low voice smooth and sincere, free of even a trace of mockery, as are his eyes. "I fear, my Lady, that we have come on business other than our own; our companion asked us to meet him here when we were done with our time at the temple. But if you will, a stout of the north, and a moment to sit, and wait for our friend to... exhaust his business here, and I would be most grateful."
Unexpected, that he would bring us here. But, I suppose there are worse places. At least they seem to mean no harm here, yet. Lord, help them find a better way. -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#182Luna and Old Lathon stared at Adan for amoment, awaiting another laugh to let them know he was speaking in jest. No laugh came.
"A stout is all they want, deary", Lathon finaly broke the silence and giggled. "A stout they shall have"
The Triguain were shown to a small table, seated, and given beer.
"And who is this friend who's exhasution you wait on, eh?" Luna asked "Surely not the last man to enter our establishment? If its Kyrian you seek, your wait will be long indeed. That one's stamina is legendary here at the Goose." she smiled again now, and excused herself, leaving Adan and Tristan sitting alone.
-
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#183Tristan blushed faintly at Luna's first comment, this being the first time he'd ever been propositioned. Most who would do so avoided him due to his obvious religious inclination, but there was a first time for everything he supposed. Before his priesthood, he'd been too drug-addled to have much to do with the fairer sex. Perhaps he could do some good here, even if it wasn't filling the purse and loins of some young lady.
"Watered down wine, if you will, ma'am." he said as he followed Adan to the table, "Kyrian is indeed our acquaintance, though I'd prefer to not know about his exploits." This could be a long wait... The priest sat, and began pondering about what he would say on the third day's gathering.
"So, brother, what pray tell, should I speak of at the Symposium?" -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#184No, indeed, it was no joke, though Adan could not help but smile ever so slightly at the expectant pause, and in response to the warning of Kyrian's stamina, he can only chuckle with some ruefulness. "I have no doubt that he's demanded your finest, too. " A shake of the head, even as he takes his first draught of the beer at hand, frowning at the priest across the table from him.
"I cannot advise you well, for I am no priest or preacher. You know that. But now, if it were I, I would speak of how Trigu and his Rhin see to it that our deeds come back to us, and how we can overcome them." A pause, as he looked at the bitter brew before him, that grimness settling into his face once more, though now, accompanied by a powerful determination. "It is, after all, my fate. The day after your speech, Brother, I will be departing this city, to make my peace and to hunt what has been sent for me..." A pause, then, as he trailed away, looking at the other, as if to see how this would effect him.
Until, at least, he relaxed slightly, sparing a smile for a raven-haired woman, even as he dug out the paper and quill he'd dug up on the path here.
Lieber Vater.
Ich habe es gedankt, dass es ist die Uhr fuer meinen Ersazt zu machen, wie mann Moeglichstes kann. ... -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#185"I congratulate you, Shallaya - I would not have deemed it possible for anyone to tame you enough to put a shackle of gold on that slender finger of yours."
Happines he wished her, yet that moment was theirs, dreamy amongst carmine satin in mellow, sleepy light.
Rising some time later, the knight ran his hand through his damsel's hair - highborn or not, for him, she was a damsel indeed; unique in that she has retained a youthful charm even in the merciless business that her trade was more often than not. Every carefree moment he could provide her with filled Kyrian with a deep feeling of contentness.
"To leave I have, for stalk the city I must. If you require anything, feel free to call upon me, and I shall make haste to you. When the sun sets, I will be here to dine with you. Until then, take care."
Truly, knighthood was a two-edged sword to have; in the years before his spurs were granted, the decision between leaving and staying was his to make, today, something greater drove him.
His liberty traded in for a purpose?
He kissed Shallaya's brow, and caressed her face and neck once more, before turning away.
Downstairs, two stern-faced men waited, eyeing him like a criminal, despite the frosty beer and light wine before them. Indeed, Kyrian failed to understand how their expression could be compatible with this cozy place and a good drink. "Adan, Tristan - I thought you would take longer tending to your religious needs and duties; firmly did I believe I would manage dark lager before you appeared. If you can suggest a course, well then, otherwise, I have to meet a few old friends to learn what transpires in this steam kettle that is Jantir." -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#186"See that big pillar over there, the one with the guy on it?" Aerex pointed out as they ambled through the busy Jantir streets. "That's the monument of Dynast Tharobis Heathen-bane. He started a sort of inquisition in the Empire, kicked out anyone with 'heathen' beliefs. It really ended up being a race purge, and a whole bunch of Khefarans were persecuted." He turned around to see Voro and Talia looking quizzically at him. "Oh, I'm getting ahead of myself," he said sheepishly.
The three moved onto the Bridge of Triumph, Matare fitting in as he elbowed a path through the dense crowd of pedestrians on the bridge. The smell of pastries and fresh bread wafted through the air; Aerex remembered briefly that his favorite bakery was nearby. But there was little room in his head for reminiscing thoughts as he continued his rambling historical tour. "The Khefara lived here before Jantir existed. There's a big Khefaran remnant still around Jantir. They're easy to spot: chiseled cheekbones, short brows, kinda yellowish skin. The Southfolk settled near here couple hundred years ago. They were pretty amiable with the Khefara for a while, but then they got to thinkin' that there was gold in the hills near this river. Khefarans had a big river village called Ssembra; some folk still call Dockside Ssembra 'cause of that. Eventually the Southfolk started a war and subjugated the Khefara. The First Dynast led the fight and built an empire outta the new territory. Khefara are stubborn, though, and a bunch of 'em never left. In some places, you can see a lotta Khefaran influence." As they finished crossing the bridge, Aerex spotted a spire jutting up from the urban landscape. "See that?" he pointed. "That's a Khefaran Ghost Tower. Or, it used'ta be." The tall wooden cone narrowed sharply toward the top, a pair of steps spiraling up to its peak where a crown of spokes jutted out. The whole thing was painted a brilliant blue. "They're important religiously for the Khefarans, though I'm not muchuva Khefara theologian, y'know?" Matare suddenly became aware of his increasingly apparent Jantiri accent. Old habits die hard, he thought.
Aerex cleared his throat. "It's still a sore topic among many Jantiri," he said, consciously suppressing his accent. "Even though it's a major trade city, there are many who look down on non-Southfolk." He nodded to Vorodon. "That's probably why you got a raw deal by yourself in the armorer's. I'll deal with the next smith, get us a fair bargain." As they walked closer to Dockside, the smell of fresh (and otherwise) fish drifted in the air. It grew stronger and stronger until they finally reached the busy docks. "Kyrian must be around..." Aerex started. He paused suddenly, squinting in the sunlight reflecting off the water. "Is that... Thyran?"
Aerex walked closer, suddenly wordless to Talia and Vorodon. The old man's bald head reflected sunlight off its burnt scalp. He turned slightly, giving Aerex a better view of his square chin and partly toothless smile. "By the Dynast," he said breathlessly. Matare turned to Talia and Vorodon. "Hey, I'll be right back," he said, already walking quickly to Thyran.
"Hey, old man!" Aerex greeted playfully. "Ain't you s'posed to be runnin' a shop in the Central District?" -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#187Talia wasn't saying much, concentrating on listening to Aerex's explanations. She'd never tell him, but she wasn't much impressed with what she'd heard so far. Gypsies were heathen-folk by most city-folk's estimation; actually, heathen-folk according to anyone but a few shamanistic tribes they dealt with out away from civilization. Therefore, she didn't really care to see a man famed for starting an inquisition honored in such a way. She'd be quiet about it, and as careful as she could. She trusted Aerex, but that trust did not extend to the other people of Jantir, and she would be just as glad to let Aerex deal with them.
And... Aerex had just run off. She sighed. Evidently he'd seen an old acquaintance. Well, if she and Vorodon stayed put until he came back, they couldn't get lost. -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#188Kasin looked around the stalls, obviously impressed. Some of the fish he saw were new to his eyes…a rare concept indeed.
He shifted the weight of his pack from one shoulder to the other. He was anxious, but with good reason. He never met the man he was here to do business with. His employer assured him things would go smoothly, but he was still uneasy. Master Jal had instilled this in him a very long time ago. He knew how wrong things could go in a deal like this and he was taking no chances. He loosened the straps on both his sword and dagger.
He scanned the market once again, being careful to watch for guards or “too familiar” faces. Then he spied what he dreaded most…the ogrish fellow Vorodon was just across the market, and standing with him was Aerex and the gypsy woman Talia. Damn my luck!
He knew what had to be done, but his plan was now useless. “Business first, then pleasure” the voice of Tander sounded softly in his mind. He quelled the feeling of dread the memory gave rise to and steeled his heart. Business first…
He moved slowly around the stalls, keeping watch for both his contact and on his three “companions”. It was easy enough to keep a few bodies between them; this was a fairly busy market. He scanned the stalls again. Two away to his left he saw his contact, just as his employer has described him. He strolled over calmly when the crowd was the thinnest. He smiled broadly, pointing at a rather odd looking fish and retrieving a few coppers from his pouch, thanks to the patrons at the inn. He spoke in a low voice, his smile never wavering.
“Came to see the cove, a family man friend of mine might be there, to ring the changes. Haven’t seen a bandog in a bit, so no worries from the new drop…far as I can tell.
The swag was easily acquired and moved, and if the King’s pictures are ready we can get on with it, yes?”
-
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#189Vorodon was confused by his friends' behavior. Apparently, the Insector saw someone he knew, but Talia preferred to wait for him by the fishmongers' stalls. True, the fish were fascinating, but the bladedancer seemed uninterested in the bounty of bizarre seafood laid out there.
Looking over the crowd, Vorodon noticed a familiar face. It was that traveler from the Ogre Hills, Kasini or something like that! It would have caused too much ruckus to bull through the crowd to greet him, but perhaps Vorodon could get his attention another way.
"Travelman Kasini! Hey, Kassinnniii!" the goliath bellowed, waving his arm in enthusiastic greeting. The man seemed not to notice him right away, so he stepped up onto a barrel of salted falchio fish and shouted a bit more loudly.
Some of the market folk stared at the half-ogre's outlandish ruckus, and a few actually looked a bit frightened, but Vorodon thought he was adapting well to this new place. Jantiri people were loud and obnoxious: He should fit right in. -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#190It was with a half indulgent smile that Adan nodded, shrugging faintly as he looked in the general direction of the Temple of Trigu. "We were lucky in our timing, my friend, and the charge given to me extends far beyond the temple, for I serve Him in the world, not in His home. And, a moment more will make no difference to us." A frown slipped over his face, then, as he looked at the folded and sealed parchments in his hand, the eloquent pleas to family, recorded in his flowing hand.
"If you do not mind, friend, I need to hire a trustable messenger. I must, I fear, break the seal of banishment that my Duke has placed upon me, and would send him word before appearing before him. My neck is sore enough, without adding a headsman's blade to the recipe, and I do not think the good sergeant in change of the garrison here will assign me men any longer. After that, I am at your service, so long as it is reasonable. Corrupt as she is, there were still a few good people in this town when I was here last." -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#191Talia
Talia looked around half-bored, half-repulsed by the madness that was Dockside.
Vorodon had now spotted that peculiar Mirinar man, and there was no stopping the lumbering half-ogre from getting over to the stand where Kasin was speaking to some balding fish-monger.
Great, now I’m standing here alone, she sighed and started looking around as she meandered in Aerex and Vorodon’s general direction. Avoiding the smelly (and often flying) fish, she walked a bit behind the stalls and stands of the Emporium, closer to the water.
Dozens, no, hundreds of sloops, barges, and ships, lined the harbor, a thousand flags flapping in the wind.
Just now she passing a massive dromond, docked and idling. So huge was the ship, that Talia felt as if she was passing underneath it. Men, Khefarans, she assumed from Aerex’ recent description of them, were carrying crates down a gangplank and onto the docks. There was no telling what was inside of them, but it certainly was not fish. The dockhands headed past Zjerzhon’s Emporium and deeper into the maze of the Docks district.
The men rushed past Talia ignoring her completely, though one did manage a quick smile and wink. She stood for a moment and looked out into the blue-green waters, and wondered again, how in the seven hells she would find a single man inside this giant city. It was impossible, she chided herself. If her ancestors were watching over her, as she was sure they were, now would be the time for them to send some clue to guide her.
Once more she sighed, as she saw Vorodon climbing a barrel and shouting over the screeching fish-mongers to draw Mirinar’s attention.
She smiled and in that very instant something caught her eye. Something that made her freeze in place. For a moment she could nothing but stare.
Talia was looking up at the side of the dromond. Along the worn, sea-warped wood, she could make out the name of the ship, written in faded white paint.
Talia
DONT post, Aerex, Mirinar, and Vorodon! one more post coming for you! -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#192Talia stared up at the ship that shared her name, open-mouthed. That was a sign, it had to be. Though what a sign that obvious meant, she had no idea. She closed her mouth, and started to think. Well, she'd thought about her father being a sailor, hadn't she? Maybe he served on this vessel. The only other idea that she had was so ridiculous that she rejected it outright. She started to look around, trying to see if any of the crew of this particular ship could spare a moment to talk to her. She felt more comfortable approaching a Khefaran than whatever they called the dominant group anyway. "Excuse me, do you know if any gypsy men sail on this ship?" She didn't know how old her father was. "Old enough to have a grown daughter?" -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#193Tristan's shock was plain to see. Here was a brother in Trigu who had as much as admitted that he had committed a wrong so great that he was being chased by one of the mythical Ska! "Surely you aren't suggesting that you leave to face your past alone, brother. To do that is almost surely foolishness. Bring myself and the others along. Some tasks cannot be managed without assistance." -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#194Kyrian, Tristan, Adan.
Kyrian, Adan, and Tristan chatted and drank in the cozy (even Adan had to admit) confines of the Once-Proud Goose for a bit more, then left the establishment at last, off to visit another one of Kyrian’s old acquaintances, this one who could prove to be of twin uses. As they walked, Kyrian described the man they were hoping to find. Halnoli Usstro, the Kepharan mage, one of ‘slight’ elvish blood as well, Kyrian noted, was an old friend of the knight from his earlier days gallivanting in Jantir, just after his time in the Pits, and just before his induction into the Dew-Marked Rose. Halnoli was what was known euphemistically as a ‘stepper’, a mage who could not stay in one place, and had little patience for scholarly or arcane pursuits in some dusty library. Instead, Halnoli spent his time joining ‘adventurers’ in their daring-do’s and exploits, often hiring himself out as a mage for hire. Kyrian and Halnoli had indeed shared a few adventures together, and once even, Kyrian had saved the bushy-bearded wizard’s life. Halkoli, in addition, was a ‘friend’ of the Dew-Marked Rose, and associated freely with the knights of the ancient brotherhood.
By the time Kyrian was done with his tale, the three companions had reached Usstro’s “home”. An odd duck, Halnoli had been renting a room at the Hare’s Hair for as long as Kyrian could remember. If the mage was in Jantir, this quiet inn was the place to find him. Usstro eschewed having his own demesne, as the mage was often fond of saying, “Every wizard with a tower, gets killed.” Halnoli much preferred to rent a room in the inn, and remain inconspicuous. To each his own, Kyrian concluded.
Kyrian led the way as the three entered and crossed the taproom to ascend the staircase. Arriving at the door of Halnoli, Kyrian knocked dramatically, (some particular pattern of knocks actually, Tristan noted) and the door swung open, revealing not a wizard’s den, but an unkempt room, that could have belonged to anyone.
“Let me see if my latest spell is of use” announced a fat, red-haired, bushy-bearded man, who despite his weight and hirsute nature, displayed a peculiar, but slight, effeminate countenance.
This must be Halnoli, Adan surmised, as the bearded wizard closed his eyes tightly, in a contrived manner, and put his short, fat fingers to his temples, as if suffering from some great migraine.
“You have returned to Jantir to find someone. You come to me not only to visit an old friend but to ask of me a favor. Am I right?” Halnoli smiled like a child, opening his eyes. "I am nearly sure you dont have enough gold to pay me, so perhaps you will offer to do an old friend some favor in return, for whichever favor you ask of me? And perhaps I even have need of a favor granted, much to your well-known, good fortune."
“Well met, Kyrian of the Rose” the mage then added and winked, “Tell me you did not put noble Herald up in this place’s stables. The stable-boy is a known Hippospadian! And tell me, why do you bring priests with you?”
It was then Tristan realized why Kyrian mentioned twin uses for Halnoli. The mage could probably identify the magic of the verbeeg’s stolen treasures! The rings, the dirk, and that wicked Lochaber axe, the Triguian realized quietly without speaking.
-
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#195Aerex, Mirinar, Vorodon, and Talia.
Thyran turned in surprise at the voice, then smiled, his face wrinkling up pleasantly, and what looked like a tear glistening in his eye.
“What brings anyone to Ssembra? Fish, and bit o’ fresh air for me, young Matare. Tell me, what you brings you back? It is certainly good to see you though. Jantir has been a boiling cauldron lately. Good to see old friends. Even if they are still way too young to be old” Thyran smiled again, his kind face spider-webbing with wrinkles, despite his ferocious, lantern-like jaw, which seemed set in place, permanently.
“Have ye heard of fair Fairis? She lives on Harbormaster’s Isle, that one now. She came a long way. Married the fellow.”
For a moment, he considered something then added mysteriously, “We could use a good man...my friends and I” and
“I prattle, forgive me. Surely you came to pay respects at your father’s grave.”
When Thyran read Aerex’ face, and realized the young Matare’s surprise, Thyran grimaced and exhaled a deep breath slowly. “Forgive me. You did not know.”
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"Travelman Kasini! Hey, Kassinnniii!"
Only Vorodon was capable of shouting over the throngs of merchants and fish-mongers successfully, and successful he was.
The bald, robed man, Mirinar was speaking with, was about to answer Kasin’s opening salvo, when both men turned and stared at the half-ogre, who was standing upon a huge barrel of fish oil and waving his meaty hands in their direction.
-------------------------------------------
“Some discretion and prudence was all I asked for” the bald man said just then in a half-whisper to Kasin.
This must be Brother Hagopin, Mirinar had time to think. He had found the right man, but now this! What was this giant oaf doing?
“I am afraid we cannot ‘get on with it’, as you say, now, can we?” the hairless man frowned.
Meanwhile, a fish-monger began waving a particularly pliable sea-trout at Vorodon’s ankles and cursing the half-ogre in six different tongues.
“Get thee off, overlarge lummox! Get thine black-nailed, fungus-crusted, feet off my oil!” he finally tried in common.
Even Aerex and Thyran gave a look at the nearby commotion, though Aerex was now somewhat numb.
A few guffaws erupted from the nearby sellers and buyers of Zjerzhon’s at that moment, and just then, the bald, robed man, whom Kasin Mirinar knew as Brother Hagopin, yanked the satchel Mirinar was holding, and took off in an effortless sprint south-east along the dock. Quite swift he was, faster than most men Kasin had ever seen. For a split second Mirinar just stared at the strange man escaping with his “prizes”, somewhat shocked.
roll was made. Brother Hagopin successfully “yanked” (fill in word of choice) Mirinar’s bag, and is speeding away. If you start to run after him immediately, you will be for all intents and purposes 1-2 “rounds” behind him, which is not bad, but he’s faster than you, which is kinda bad.
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“Look atta' tha big oaf” one of the Khefarans laughed as he turned temporarily from Talia, to watch the half-ogre “dance” upon the barrel.
After a few moments he turned back to Talia and said,
“Gypsies? No woman, no gypsies aboard this here ship that I be knowing. This here be the flagship of his highness”, the dockhand spat in jest, “The Harbormaster.” -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#196Aerex turned away from the ruckus to face Thyran again, a lump growing in his throat. "He, ah - he died?" His words dripped
with disbelief, both at the news and his own reaction. "I haven't seen him in - in years. What happened?"
"Killed young Matare...he was...killed," Thyran lowered his voice. I thought--I thought you knew when I just saw you, I thought--" Thyran shut up. "No one knows who killed him....believe me a few of us looked into it."
The ranger's hands tightened into fists involuntarily. "I need to know everything you know."
"Do ye want the truth, plainly then? He was killed for a bauble or two in his shop...I wish it were more noble..." his voice cracked, and he put his hand on Aerex's shoulder. Some say some slight."
Aerex's eyes closed for a moment. "I- I didn't know he had a shop. Where is it? Who's runnin' it now?"
"Aye, your father...he was always resourceful...who knew he was collecting all that junk down in the Burns...all that junk, and
opened a tiny shop he did...you know your father's imagination...a shell became a relic, a iron coin, and old artifact... Did alright for himself.." Thyran stopped in thought suddenly. "There was talk...some old revenge...some say the guard was involved....but we shouldn't not speak of this here...my friends and I would speak to you in private."
Aerex bit his lip. "Dynast's balls, of course the Guard are involved," he spat under his breath. He paused as the words registered in his mind. "What friends?"
"No, no, do not jump at anchovies.....we will speak in private, yes?"
He nodded. "Yes, but I need to get my own friends first. If something can be done, they're the ones to do it."
"You remember where you used to come see me? under the terraced bridge? We can meet there...tonight."
Aerex nodded, his lips pursed. "We'll be there. It's, uh, it's good to see you again, old man."
"And you...again forgive me..I did not know."
"Thanks. Be careful, we'll see you tonight."
Thyran's eyes narrowed. "Stay clear of the bird-helms. The split-lipped queen is mad!" he whispered.
Matare gave Thyran an odd look. What's he talking about? he thought to himself. But no time now. Vorodon was shouting
and Talia seemed to be lost in her thoughts while looking at the bay. Aerex quickly walked away from the fish stand, his mind set firmly on justice. -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#197Did he just steal my bag?
The bewildered Mirinar suddenly set his lips into a sly grin. A chase it was then. The bald man was fast, but he was in a rage. He began to run, jumping over barrels and crates as he went. His patients had held so far, his resolve a pillar of iron…but all that was behind him now, nothing but catching the bald man and retrieving his pouch and pay mattered.
He cast a sideways glance at Voro, his huge hand waving in the air. He knew this was just the brute being friendly, so he couldn't bring himself to hold this unfortunate turn of events against him. He was, after all, the closest he had to a friend right now. He'd have to, if things turned in his favor, let the ogrish fellow in on his secret. He might even understand his reasons.
He turned his mind back to the escaping Brother Hagopin.
“Do you have any idea who you’ve crossed” he hissed between breaths “I wager you have no clue, you old bald son of a three legged goat!”
He pressed onward as fast as he could, a steady barrage of insults and curses flowing freely with every step. He shed his pack and dropped his cloak along the way.
No need for disguises now… Honor among thieves my ass!
-
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#198Vorodon was startled to see Kasin's hairless companion grab his satchel and nimbly flee through the market. "I'd never catch up," he reflected, coming up with a better solution.
Snatching the lid from the barrel next to him, he hurled it at the retreating figure, discus-style. While Vorodon's darts would be better suited for the task, it was too early in the day for killing strangers. If he understood the locals properly, cutting purses was almost a sport in this mad city, and didn't always warrant bloodletting. Knocking the thief down would suffice for now. -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#199Frisbee of Doom
A pneumatic hiss, a whistling sound, pierced the morning air, as Vorodon heaved the oaken disk, as if it were a plate at a dwarven wedding. Having some height over the gathered mob of people, allowed the half-ogre to get a good look, and thus good aim, at the fleeing bald monk. Moments later, the oil-stained barrel cover smashed into the running figure, striking him in the back and shoulder with a gods-awful, sickly crunch. The man never knew what hit him, and sprawled forward onto the wet stone of the thoroughfare.
The man made no sound, but simply slid further another fifteen feet after going down, until he finally came to a stop, face down in the street.
A commotion rang out, though few people actually realized what had just happened, and by the time Mirinar ran up to Brother Hagopin’s still form, a few fish-mongers and curious onlookers moved in to form a circle and get a good look at the “poor bastard.”
Mirinar gaped at the seeming corpse. The man was definitely not moving. The satchel had flown from his outstretched hand and lay a dozen feet away.
One egg was smashed, much to Mirinar’s horror, yellow-white mucous spreading out in a huge puddle, from the sack. The other one seemed intact.
As Aerex came upon the scene, he noticed a pair of "bird-helms", Jantir's exalted city-guardsmen, approaching from the opposite direction, their masks, one owl, one hawk, glinting beneath the late-morning sun, lazily rising to its zenith over Ol' Ssembra.
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“You’re hired!”
A reedy, white-whiskered man suddenly said to Vorodon, as he watched the trajectory of the half-ogre’s hurled barrel lid.
“Ye can carry as many crates as ten men, and ye can double as me’ bodyguard” the old man spoke unaware of his comic timing, at the near-tragic expense of one, Brother Hagopin.
I rolled an 18. Despite Vorodon’s non-proficiency with flinging barrel lids (masterwork or otherwise), I figure that should “hit.” Brother Hagopin is out cold, along with having a fractured shoulder blade, a mildly damaged spinal cord, and raspberry-face. Cheers. -
Re: Convergence (Chap IV)
#200Aerex gritted his teeth as he saw the approaching bird-helms. There was a time when he would have given anything to walk among their hallowed ranks, the most elite guardians in the city, some say the Empire and even the world. But given their current situation and Thyran's warning, a foreboding feeling came over him.
"Friend, whatever you're trying to get, you'd better do it quickly," he said to Mirinar in a low voice, a hand clamped on his shoulder. "Things could get ugly soon." He quickly turned and jogged off toward Vorodon, who was being harassed by an old angler. "He ain't for sale, citizen," Matare quipped as he approached, picking up on the gist of the conversation. "You'll hafta find someone else." The ranger pulled close to Voro's ear, or as close as he could given the height difference. "Find Talia, we've gotta get out of here."