When The World Ends, Legends Are Created.

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Dekonic, Feb 16, 2016.

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  1. The Dragon's Breath was a worn-down establishment in which the poor resided as the rates for rooms were nothing more than a few hours of work within the lodge. It was a common point of meeting for mercenaries and traveled men alike, and on the inside was a man who waited for those heading his call to arms. Long fingers drummed against an oaken table that had clearly seen much better days. The inn was rather lonesome, seeing few patrons coming and going throughout the dragging day. The salted aroma radiating from the ocean overwhelmed the man’s nostrils, caking the surrounding with a putrid combination of stale ale and odor from long forgotten rodents decaying within the floorboards. With every squeak the door made Arthur turned his eyes to analyze the patron. His hopes of gathering a convoy group began to dwindle with every agonizing tick of time.

    Time. A measurement of something so invisible and incomprehensible. An indefinite continuation of progress regardless of race and stature. A king was equal to a peasant in the eyes of time. There was nothing that could escape the evil grasps of deterioration taking place with every step forward in time. And Arthur was living on borrowed time, his place among the mortal realm no long. He often cast a glance over his shoulders as if he had been watched from the distance. A constant feeling of unwary eyes staring into the man’s very soul. His right hand moved across the scarred table and gripped his forearm opposite of his right side. A mark of the patron fiend he served brandished forever into his skin, much more permanent than a normal scar. It was a reminder that his life was no longer his own and that his time, was indeed, borrowed.

    Perhaps this port town was not the best of choices, the outside appearance of such a glamorous town did not do the reality of the town any justice. Sure, the markets were bustling with merchant’s peddling stolen goods for a coin. The bakeries made fresh sweets every day for those ritzy enough to afford such a luxury. Telraidia was much darker than the outer shell suggested, one who journeyed deeper into the town could understand just what that meant. As an adventurer journeyed further into the city, their eyes would see diminishing buildings that seemed to crumble underneath the pressure of its’ own stone. Inhabitants of the inner city wore ragged clothes and smelled as if their bodies had never seen what was known as a bath. Beggars lined the street, their hands held out against the wind with a shaken demeanor towards those much more fortunate than themselves.

    It wasn’t as if Arthur had much of a choice in the matter at hand, given the current situation of his homeland. With a king being laid to rest and the odd mist leaving much of the countryside in ruins. The door opened with a squeak once more, revealing a much shorter person standing roughly five feet in total. Windswept hair of an auburn color and peerless green eyes stood out to Arthur in the darkened tavern. The figure moved forward and took a stool to the man’s immediate right, the light revealing the face of a young boy no more than twelve years of age.

    “Any luck brother?”

    The young boy spoke low, as if he were intimidated by the elder’s presence. Arthur reached down and ruffled the boy’s hair briefly before turning his attention back to the door. He wondered just who would walk through that door looking for an adventure. What kind of being would sell their skills for coin and a chance to travel Esslia. He was a man who lacked trust for fellowman and despised those who disagreed with his views. The very situation boiled Arthur’s blood, as he was always a lone wolf who never looked for the assistance of anyone else. His mind had been corrupted by pride, placing himself on a pedestal above anyone he deemed unworthy, which was almost always. And yet as he gazed lifelessly at the tavern doors he knew deep down that this was his only chance to make his father proud… and his only chance to find the one who reaped his mother’s soul from this realm.
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  2. A young man, dressed in a cream shirt, brown pants, and covered in a light brown cloak silently entered the bar. If he was armed, his weapons were either concealed underneath the worn cloak or hidden in a bag hanging from the man's left shoulder. Anybody who looked carefully enough would see that the man's clothing was stained with mud and sweat, a testament to his travels to reach this run down tavern. His face was nothing much to look at, messy hair, dirtied by travel, covering one blue eye but no scars of any kind to be seen.

    Jaks stood in the middle of the room for several moments, taking in his surroundings--the whispers, the glancing eyes, the stench--before approaching Arthur. He stood so that the table came between him and the sitting warlock. He silently placed a piece of worn paper, one of the many posted around the city, on the table and spoke to Arthur in a low voice.

    "Am I right to assume that you are the one requesting for help?"
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  3. Talraidia was a not a city that Vhallin liked to frequent. In fact, he would prefer to outright avoid the place, but his work led him back to the city time and again. As such, he had just finished a rather tedious journey with a small caravan coming into Talraidia for the festival. The city was teeming when they reached it, and Vhallin had collected his payment and seen himself to a tavern for a meal and some much-needed rest. It was there that he had taken note of a posting, calling for experienced folk to aid in a journey. Vhallin wasn't sure how prudent it was to mention that the people calling for aid included a prince-- there were dangerous folk about this city who would be quite keen on holding royalty for ransom-- or worse. Either way, he was already in the city and the requested rendezvous time was tomorrow; it was at least worth checking into and staying an extra was of little inconvenience if he could be of help.

    The following day Vhallin woke, cleaned himself up, and ventured into the market to procure a few basic supplies. With the increased number of people, likely in town for the festival, the tiefling had a slight struggle finding what he needed while picking his way through the dense crowds. Fortunately, there were few who tried to hustle him or pick his pocket (his appearance usually saw to that much), but the whole ordeal took the better part of the day and the sun was falling by the time he reached dockside. The Dragon's Breath, much like the rest of Talraidia, was an establishment that Vhallin tried his best to avoid. It was a forlorn building, ramshackle with a rather uninviting air about it, yet it often served as a point of meeting for hunters taking assignment or collecting coin from marks. Vhallin could count on one hand the number of times he'd actually set foot in the place, and they were all job-related instances when he couldn't find work as a guide.

    Steeling himself against the unpleasant smell, Vhallin pushed open the door to the lodge and stepped inside. It was just as dark and dingy as he remembered it, though the wooden floors and tables seemed to be even more desperate for a thorough scrubbing than last he visited. Closing the door with a soft 'click', the tiefling moved further into the tavern and cast a glance around, ignoring the faint murmurs that went up when eyes fell on him. He had no idea who he was looking for, but there were few patrons-- finding the posting's proprietor shouldn't be that difficult.

    Before he began to search in earnest, he took note of a man laying a piece of parchment on one of the grimy tables. From the looks of it, the parchment in question was a posting very much like the one he'd seen and he stepped over toward the other men, waiting silently to hear whether or not he'd come to the right place.
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  4. Telraidia, a port town that was pretty from a distance and ugly once you stepped in.

    The Dragon’s Breath, an ironic name for a tavern as destitute and desolate as this one.

    The quest, the only reason why he even bothered to come to this town. Two princes wanting to go on an adventure in these dark and amusing times? Sounded like fun to Fa Leng, though, as the massive dragonborn entered the tavern, it was rather clear that most others didn’t hold the same opinion as himself. Unlike the always-lively pubs of Malzhara, the Dragon’s Breath stank of piss and trash, a wasteland devoid of pretty barmaids and cheerful drunks. There were a few who slumped over tables, clutching long-empty flagons of ale, and there were others forcing themselves to swallow what meager meals they could afford before heading off for another half-day’s worth of work. Pretty depressing, really. Running a taloned hand through his frost-blue hair, he scanned the tavern’s patrons, golden eyes glimmering in the dim lighting.

    Maybe, once upon a time, these oaken tables would have been filled with merrymakers with loose lips and looser coin pouches. Now, though, news of the king’s death and the monsters that lurked within the mist put a somber blanket on an already pitiful tavern. With all that said, there laid only one table from which people convened upon.

    Rotund human brat? Check.

    Rugged knight-type? Check.

    All-in-black cloak-and-dagger kid? Check.

    Exotic horse-faced tiefling? Check.

    Sauntering over, Fa Leng towered over the rest of the trio, looking over the head of the roguish kid and stroking his chin. As expected, he wasn’t able to make anything out of the chicken scratch that marked the poster, but it was definitely the same sort of message that he asked the barkeep from Elteir a couple of days past. With a toothy grin, the dragonborn slapped the backs of his two new brothers, and said, “So, this is it, eh? Two princes and three vagrants, to begin an adventure that will become a legend? Name’s Fa Leng Eishandaer, former gladiator from Malzhara. You folks all look like fine lads, but hey, you’re not all gonna be sullen and silent for this epic-making, right?”
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  5. EleIt had already been a couple of days in the port town of Telraidia since Eleianva Celeste Natuahil had first stepped foot off the ship from Springmoor, following behind the three other candidates that had volunteered for the pilgrimage to become Head Priests and Priestesses. Unlike her brothers and sisters of the faith, Ele decided to remain in the little port town for a bit longer, if only to recover from the gripping fear she had felt upon facing the sea again. It had been the first time since the loss of her brother, and she really hadn’t been prepared for it.

    But, the little town had proven to be absolutely beautiful, and a place full of all types of curiosities!! Already Ele had learned three new fundamental truths. First, was that everything cost money, and not the shells her own people used as a form of free currency. No, no, people here only used bits of gold circles, sometimes copper, and sometimes silver! None of which she had.

    The second truth, was that if she wished to have a successful pilgrimage and get to travel across the continents to fulfill her duties, she would need to make this shiny form of money!

    And the third fundamental truth was that the man by the corner was sorely mistaken as to the definition of “Cat Houses.” These places were certainly not the homes of cats, but poorly clad women! Ele had felt so bad for them, that she had eagerly given away her spare dresses. In exchange she had a place to stay for the night… although she had to say, being cradled against a woman’s chest for a night was a bit too intimate between strangers! But still, the women had been extremely kind and had even found her an exit to leave from before more of their guests arrived.

    She hadn’t only helped the women though. If anything, the Sun Elf found herself stopping at every man and woman sitting and begging for something. Ele really didn’t have much to give, but by the end of the day her pack had been emptied of most, if not all, of her supplies. In fact, even her pack had been taken! Which left her in a little bit of a predicament… but that is when she found a posting tacked up in a nearby alleyway. Two princes in desperate need of help! Offering not only money, but travel!?

    By Beaivi she was blessed!

    And that is what brought her right here and right now to the door step of The Dragon’s Breath. She opened the door with a bit of a clatter, stepping inside and absolutely beaming, until silver eyes caught sight of a long tail attached to a very tall man, and proceeded to form tunnel vision.

    You have a tail!

    If the man had not noticed the very obvious elven woman completely gawking at the Tiefling from the door, surely he would now. There was just no escape from that piping voice, just a teeny tiny bit too shrill.

    If he were to take a glance, he would see Ele was gazing at him, not necessarily as if he was a side show performance, but more as if she was gazing upon a work of art and not quite understanding the artist’s intention. It involved quite a lot of squinting and glancing about, as if the answers she sought were somehow carved into his posterior by his maker. “Do you ever forget about it? I suppose probably not, right? Is it like an arm? I imagine it must be like an arm. But it’s so long! Have you ever gotten it stuck in a door? I think that would happen to me if I had a tail. But then again, I wasn’t born with a tail, so I really don’t know what it feels like! Maybe if I was born with one, I would totally remember not to get it slammed in a door! But sometimes accidents happen, right? Or, what if another person closed the door while you were walking through!

    Her hands had been moving just as much as her lips were. Gesturing to his tail, then to the closest door, then to his face, and then to her own backside as if her arm could possibly be interpreted as a newfound tail, which she waved, quite freely. Then there was suddenly a pause, followed by silence and then a widening of silver eyes as tanned skin took on a look of burnt burgundy.

    She had finally realized that she was speaking with someone she had completely just met and bombarding him with questions that may in fact be incredibly sensitive! She grabbed a hold of her staff, which had been cradled in an armpit during her hand and mouth performance and promptly apologized. “I’m so sorry! I’m Tail… No wait, I’m not tail! I was just thinking about tails, while looking at your tail, and wanting to ask questions about said tail. Because I’ve never had a tail, and I was so curious! OH! No! I mean, I’m sorry, honestly. I’m Eleianva Celeste Natuahil….No, wait, yes! Yes! That is my name, sorry.

    Ele then lifted her head, to realize she had been ignoring the other men grouped around the tailed man. The look of one in particular, made her give a gasp that sounded as if her wind pipe had been crushed. “You’re a dragon! Or a lizard? Dragon? Lizard? Oh goodness, are you related to him? The man with the tail. There’s kind of a resemblance, though I suppose not very, except maybe tails. OH! Can you do the lizard tongue thing? Do you know the one? Where it like shoots out really fast?

    The Sun Elf proceeded to demonstrate what she meant, sticking her pink tongue out and attempting, rather poorly, to suck it back in as fast as she could. She nearly choked, before catching sight of something else. “Oh wow! You have so many things tied in your hair! Did you tie them all yourself or did someone have to help? I suppose it would be easy if you have thumbs. Do you have thumbs? I know a lot of lizards don’t have thumbs, but I suppose a dragon could have thumbs!

    She lifted her hands as she talked, extending her thumbs with a thumbs-up motion, of course. Then it all came to a pause, eyes widening and tanned skin beginning to look crisp. “OH! Dear. I’m doing it again. I’m sorry, honestly. I don’t mean… It just sort of comes out, you know? Just jabber, jabber, jabber!

    Her gaze shifted to that of the other two men and a boy, before she glanced to the table where the advertisement she had seen in the alleyway was splayed out. “OH!!! Are you all here for that?” She pointed to the table before pointing to herself. “I’m here for that too! For the thing, written on that thing!

    Long pointed ears twitched as she looked towards the rather sullen man and the little boy, before fixating on just the boy, her eyes going wide. “Are you two the princes!? Oh goodness, one of you is so young! You’re just a boy! I am so sorry. This must be so frightening for you. Is it just you and your brother? Has your brother been taking care of you well? Are you hurt at all? OH! Dear, look at me… going again.

    Eleianva suddenly straightened, tapping the heels of her boots together before she gave a sailor salute. “I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself properly, I’m Boy…. AGH! No! My name is Eleianva Celeste Natuahil, a Sun Elf from the island of Springmoor and I am a priestess and disciple of the Goddess Beaivi. I am a cleric, on a pilgrimage to become a High Priestess for my people! I am looking to join your adventure! My other hobbies include flower picking, studying, reading and pressing flowers. I rather like sweet foods, and usually hate salty foods! It is very nice to meet you!

    Then she bowed, and finally there was silence.
    #5 LastCinder, Feb 22, 2016
    Last edited by a moderator: Feb 22, 2016
  6. Jaks coughed and nearly toppled over when the giant dragonborn strolled up and slammed a hand into his back. His instincts cried for him to draw a dagger and retaliate but the dragonborn's speech made him reconsider. He regained his balance and adjusted his cloak. He remained facing the table as he spoke to the dragonborn, still in a low voice. "Jaks, just Jaks and my business is my own. Please refrain from greeting me like that again, lest I accidentally do something harmful to either of us."

    The assassin also noticed another individual that the Fa Leng had greeted with the same amount a vigor. A Tiefling, perhaps a hunter, Jaks judged by the looks of him. He was larger and taller than the rogue. Then again, Jaks was quite a small person, even for a human. He turned back to the warlock and was about to speak again when he was interrupted by yet another newcomer. His eyes rolled as he let out a sigh. If these were going to be the company he would be keeping, perhaps it would have been a better idea to have skipped this job. Then again, the pay was potentially good.
  7. The younger brother began to slowly sink in his chair, hiding within the worn and oversized clothing as if he had been a turtle. Arthur lifted his head with a hint of interest gleaming in his dilated pupils, taking in the details of the man standing before him. Arthur did not have the keenest intelligence when it came to sizing up a person, somewhat shrugging Jaks off as a simpleton. However, a more in-depth analysis of this particular being gave Arthur a glimmer of hope. The man’s clothes had been soiled, yet his hands and face showed a devious-level of cleanliness. Whatever scuffles this man had been in clearly stated they had been in his favor. Arthur stood from the rickety chair, the atmosphere around his person stating royalty right down to the very way he walked towards Jaks. Arthur initiated a spoken word just before another disturbance came from within the salt-crusted decaying inn. Arthur instinctively turned his eyes towards the sound, stiffening his posture in a quick moment with the realization of ‘what’ had just walked through the double-doors. Arthur murmured under his breath after giving Jaks an approving nod.


    Tieflings were something rather left untouched and unseen. The normal being looked on these creatures with stomached disgust, disgruntled faces twisted in disproval with the simple appearance of a Tiefling. While most humans would turn away with prejudice, Arthur greeted the Tiefling with open arms. Before Arthur could greet the two new occupants, a third, much larger beast, came through the tavern doors with a much brighter disposition on life. A loud crack of scales against flesh stopped whatever banter had been occurring within the rotting tavern, followed by a delicious voice from the dragonkin known as Fa Leng. Once again, Arthur attempted to greet his gathered mercenaries and was interrupted by what seemed to be a ball of pure, unending stream if idiocy trapped within the petite frame of an elf. She spoke. And spoke. And spoke. Just as Arthur was about to cast a warlock incantation on the beast, she resided her speech and allowed much needed silence to claim the surrounding atmosphere. Finally, the prince spoke with a smooth tone, each annunciated syllable gracing the air with a royal influence, as if his manners far proceeded formalities of such an occasion.

    “Let’s get to business. You are all here for one reason. Money.”

    Arthur reached into his cloak, rummaging for a moment before retrieving a miniscule pouch that held maybe twenty coins at the very most. The man gave a devious grin before a flash of purple and red energy illuminated the bag, enlarging it several hundred times. The bag slammed into the floor, sending splinters of rotted oak screaming in all directions. Those with a large understanding of the arcane artes would be able to recognize this as a type IV bag of holding. Arthur reached into the enlarged bag, bringing out a small bag for each of those present in the tavern. Gracefully, he handed one bag to each person and removed the bag of holding from sight, placing it within his cloak once more.

    “A small sum of coin, a purchase of trust if you will. Now, let’s get down to the formalities. My name is Arthur Lor’deron, patron of Vasselheim. Behind me is my youngest sibling, Conred Lor’deron, residing king of the aforementioned empire. Some of you have heard of the mist that left much of our country in ruins. Those of you who haven’t, bless your soul. We will be making our journey to Verona at dawn tomorrow.”

    Arthur slid atop the filth-ridden planks until he had been safely behind the round table, cracking a toothy grin of a devious nature directed at the Tiefling joining the prince’s cause. His mouth opened to speak, and yet nothing human came from his mouth. A smooth voice entered the air with his syllables stemming from a language long condemned by the high-society. Where human tongue had once been, a soft droning ocean wave that mingled with the violence of a swarm of angry hornets took its place.

    “Greetings Tiefling. Your kind is well-welcomed within my society.”

    Arthur turned on his heels to better direct his posture to the group as a whole.

    “Those who have questions, feel free to ask. If not, I shall pardon myself. We will meet by the southern gate.”
    #7 Dekonic, Feb 24, 2016
    Last edited: Feb 24, 2016
  8. A brief silence fell over the men as the knight and (presumably) prince in question looked over Vhallin and the rogue. There was a moment in which Vhallin felt sure the man was going to address him, but the stillness was broken as another patron entered the establishment. Green eyes flicked toward the newcomer, taking in the immense form of a dragonborn and watching as he moved toward them. It did indeed seem that he had come to the right place; he could think of little other reason for such a diverse gathering in a place such as this. Well, that much was a relief-- provided neither of two were there with the intent to take advantage of the situation. Given, the knight did look as though he could handle himself, but Vhallin knew firsthand that dragonborn were a force to be reckoned with, especially when angry. This individual, however, seemed to be considerably more friendly than those he had previously met.

    Vhallin had been about to utter a greeting when a hearty (and wholly unexpected) slap on the back sent the tip of a fang down along the side of his tongue. The metallic taste of blood prompted him to lift a hand and wipe at his mouth, while the rogue, Jaks-- as it were, warned against repeating the action. Vhallin sucked his tongue for a moment and swallowed the small amount of blood. (Even with the establishment being as filthy as it was, he felt it rude to spit on the floor.) At least the dragonborn seemed an agreeable sort, but if that was a standard greeting perhaps he should remain silent-- lest he bite through his tongue the next time around.

    He gave a silent nod to both Jaks and Fa Leng, again turning his attention to the knight.

    Before he could even get a word out, the door swung open with a thud. Vhallin had scarcely turned to see who had come through the door this time when a shill voice filled the tavern. For a moment he wasn't sure whether the elf was speaking to him or to Fa Leng, but her pointed gaze made it quickly obvious. Surprisingly, she was not giving him a look of disgust which wasn't the general reaction to a tiefling. Usually if people stared it was followed by murmurs or ridicule-- something Vhallin had become rather accustomed to and, for the most part, wasn't terribly bothered by. Her behaviour, however, was entirely different.

    He unconsciously flicked his tail as she spoke, curling the notched appendage loosely about his feet. Honestly, he didn't mind the questions and would've been happy to answer, but he couldn't get a word in edgewise, so he settled for nodding even though he'd never gotten his tail stuck in anything before. Given the situation, it was just the easiest thing to do.

    As the questions moved from his tail to Fa Leng, Vhallin turned from nodding to shaking his head. He had never been mistaken for a dragonborn, and he doubted that most would agree that the two races shared many similarities-- with the exception of this elf. Who was, remarkably, still talking.

    Vhallin looked vaguely overwhelmed by the time the chattering died down and Arthur finally began to speak. He held his silence as the man doled out bags of coins onto the table and proceeded to introduce himself and his sibling. The prince seemed at peace with traveling with such a small group, though Vhallin had to wonder if it was really in the best interest of the young king to be entrusted to the protection of strangers. Perhaps the situation was just that dire? He had heard only bits and pieces about this deadly mist, but if it was as bad as the rumours claimed, then perhaps this was indeed their only option.

    He opted to reserve his questions.

    The strangeness of the evening wasn't ending with that, it seemed. The prince had again begun to speak, but this time in a different language that drew a questioning gaze from the tiefling. Why was this man speaking to him in that language? It was, like the others, probably a question best left for another time. Vhallin merely nodded once more, giving a faint and rather uneasy smile at such a welcome.
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  9. Woah, he hadn’t expected that a hive of scum and villainy would have attracted an elf quite as gorgeous as the one that popped up nowhere, blabbering about beautiful things that made the poet in Fa Leng’s heart horny. Kneeling with one knee down onto the ground before her, the Dragonborn gladiator took one of her slender, soft hands into his own, and kissed it. “A pleasure to travel with you, Lady Natuahil. I can see that your magical prowess is matched only by the sunlight radiance of your smile, and it warms my heart that one with a steadfast faith in the divine will be joining us on our glorious adventure.”

    Pressing his thumb against her palm, Fa Leng then looked up, partly to assess the size of her bosom and partly to admire the contours of her elven face, before smiling toothily. “And yes, I do have thumbs. Makes it rather hard to wield a sword with them, wouldn't you think?”

    With little display done, the dragonborn rose up once more, ignoring the edgy little midget Jacts. Until the cloak-and-dagger brat started spilling out his tragic past that pulled him towards the dark path of someone who wore dark clothes and spoke in too-low voices, the blue-maned bard wasn’t quite as interested in him. Maybe Jaks was more sufferable when he was drunk. Who knows? Regardless, the princes were speaking now, and Fa Leng was all ears, ready to memorize every detail.

    Turns out the person didn’t have much to say in the end, though, like all royal-types, he carried around way too much money. Did he never get robbed by highwaymen as a child and learned not to carry all his money in a single bag of holding? Well, to hell with that, it was still money that the dragonborn could look forward to spending a fun night with. Receiving it with a winning smile, he placed it under his clothes, feeling the nice weight of coins against his barreled chest. So the princes were planning on doing something fancy about the mist, were they? Or was it just that they wanted to hire less…reputable soldiers for a journey of ambiguous morality?

    Nevertheless, heading to the town of the Free Mason Council was bound to have some political effect, and it was definitely something that Fa Leng could look forward to in the future. He shot an odd glance at the rugged, older man when a foreign language found its way out of his mouth, before opening his own.

    “Well now, Prince Arthur Lor’deron, I don’t consider myself a particularly nosy dragonborn and all, but…”

    He mimicked the foreign sentence he had just heard, bastardizing the droning of ocean waves but doing the angry hornets fairly well.

    “…what language is that anyways? Sounds rather exotic, unless you were just speaking in a cipher.”

    After a slight pause, a second question was raised, this time in a much more relaxed, cheerful tone. “And the Dragon’s Breath is a dreadfully dreary place. Any of you know better taverns in Telraidia? With all this free money, I can definitely eat my weight tonight!”
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  10. Jaks closed his eyes and breathed deeply, doing his best to keep his hands from reaching into his bag and throwing a knife at whatever was still talking. After some time, creature eventually quieted and the assassin remained facing the prince while the dragonborn did...whatever he was doing. With the tavern finally quiet, Jaks attention went back to the prince, only to lift an eyebrow when Arthur began speaking in a foreign language. Jaks was by no means fluent in whatever he was hearing but he thought he recognized the sound of it, no doubt heard from some other unsavory fellows Jaks was so fond of keeping company with. Then again, as an assassin for hire, one usually could expect to be traveling quite a bit, another possible explanation to Jaks' curious deja vu. When the dragonborn presented his question, the assassin tossed a glance over to the Tiefling whom Arthur was speaking to.

    "I have absolutely no idea," Jaks answered with so much sarcasm dripping, one could collect in a cup. "It's not like we can see to whom the prince is speaking to and it is completely impossible to see which one of us understood what he just said."

    He took the pouch of gold in silence and inspected its contents. A short hum out of his throat indicated that he was impressed. The hands, with the pouch, disappeared under the brown cloak and reappeared without the pouch. His blades were already sharpened and his arrows and gadgets fully restocked before arriving so he only needed to worry about food and drink, if those weren't provided for.

    "I have no problem with this. So we meet at the southern gate. When?"
  11. Ele
    Out of all her blubbering it was the big dragon…lizard…(dragon-lizard?) that approached her, kneeling down and taking her hand as he sung her praises! Ele merely gaped at him, mouth open and eyes going wide at the very strange feeling of a scaly jaw pressing to her hand in what could only be considered as a kiss? Maybe? Honestly she had no idea. Then he pressed his thumb to her hand, as an answer! He had thumbs! Too bad the elf was too flustered and could only shriek out. “Thumbs are a good thing to have!!!!

    It was then that the eldest prince cleared his throat and seemingly got down to business. It shut up the Sun Elf pretty quickly as bags of coins were administered onto the table after a big display. He had a lot of shiny things! Ele took up her own little bag, weighing it in her hands before taking the time to open it and become amazed. The gold circle thingies! This was exactly what she needed to have for a successful pilgrimage. She dug her fingers into it a bit, pulling out a coin and rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger. It was smooth! Then she mimicked an action she had seen go on in the market place and she brought the coin to her lips, and bit it. Immediately her face took on a look of displeasure as she pulled the coin far away from her mouth as she made a, “Patuh!

    The noises continued as if she could spit the metallic taste right out of her mouth. Why in the world would anybody bite the circle things? They tasted awful! And she was pretty sure it was hard enough to chip one of her teeth! The little distraction had her miss the exchange of weird languages, however, upon the man, now known as Arthur, asking if they had any questions of course Ele took up that opportunity like an alcoholic to the world’s greatest ale.

    I have questions!” Her tanned face brightened and an even brighter smile came over her face. “Why is it that your younger brother is King? Isn’t that a lot of responsibility for a young boy? He’s just a kid! Kids should be having fun and learning about all sorts of things and not being in charge of really big countries with lots of adults and problems and thinking about the welfare of so many people! Also, what do you mean by mist? Like, actual mist? The only mist I know of is watery mist, you know, like the kind you just put your hand through and it makes you feel kind of wet, but not really wet. I guess the word would be damp! Yes! Damp!” The elf waved a free hand through the air, as if trying to give an example of shooting a limb through mist before she continued.

    Oh! But how could something meant to make things damp cause bad things? Is there something in the mist then? And why are you going to Verona? What exactly are you paying us for? Protection? From what? Bandits? Where else do you plan on going? Do you want us to stay with you? Or are you just paying for us to go to Verona? How will Verona help? Actually now that I think about it! What is Verona? How far is it? Is it very far from here?” Finally, she took the time to breathe, heaving a little bit as she looked to the eldest prince expectantly, those big silver eyes of her’s practically twinkling in the dim light of the tavern.
    #11 LastCinder, Feb 27, 2016
    Last edited by a moderator: Feb 27, 2016
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  12. (OOC I'm just gonna assume that @Ikari told my character where and when to meet afterwards)

    Upon being told where to meet afterwards, Jaks assured the prince that he would be there, spun on his heel, and hastily left The Dragon's Breath. There was time before they left, enough time to complete a job or two.


    Killing one gang member was easy. Killing an entire gang was a little bit more tricky. Killing two gangs and avoid having it traced back to you took somebody special to accomplish. Fortunately for Jaks, he was special. A third gang had hired the rogue to off two other feuding gangs. Although Jaks usually treated gangs with hostility, these employers were not a very large gang yet so he saw no problem in working for them this once.

    The way this job was executed took almost all the time Jaks had before he the scheduled rendezvous with the rest of the party. However, Jaks had did it. Several strategic kills were done before whispers and rumors were spread. Not long after, fingers were pointed and an all out war broke out between the two gangs. Jaks' blades found several more throats to speed up the process but Jaks mostly just sat back and let his targets do his job for him. Now, the assassin, dressed in his dark clothes, stood in a dim room, lit by a sole candle on the rotting wood table before him.

    The dancing flame of the candle projected two shadows on the fading walls, one of the assassin facing away from the door and the other of the corpse of his last remaining victim facing him. The man had survived the war and crept into hiding but Jaks' contract clearly stated that both of the targeted gangs had to be completely eradicated which meant no loose ends.

    The dead man was leaned back in a wooden chair at the table, with the table in between Jaks and him. His heart had been impaled by a his own pocket knife, suggesting a desperate suicide, or at least that's how his killer had made it look. Fresh blood still seeped out of the wound, down the body and chair, collecting into a small, red puddle on the loose floor boards which Jaks was careful not to disturb.

    Jaks circled the table, admiring his handiwork before stopping back at his original position. He remained facing away from the door but became aware that a third person was present. He didn't need to look up to know who it was.

    "The prince has hired me," Jaks said calmly. "We leave today."

    "Is that so?" replied a voice from the shadows. "Tell me, do you know what you are getting yourself into?"

    "The prince's kingdom is being plagued by some kind of mist. He wants me to help. Either in chasing away the mist or simply keeping it at bay, I do not know."

    "Is that all? Is that all you don't know? That is no ordinary mist, there is something lurking in it, hidden by it."

    "The mist comes and leaves corpses behind," said the annoyed rogue. "I think it is rather obvious that it's no ordinary mist." He held up a hand, cutting off the reply. "Did you have something important to tell me or are you just here to lecture me about water vapor."

    A silent pause hung in the air.

    "The first guild-"

    "Is dead," Jaks cutted in again. "I know, I took it apart piece by piece with my own hands."

    "No, you don't know. The guild might be dead but it's members are not. They were master assassins, killers who taught you how to kill. You may have beaten them once, but you had an element of surprise as well as several other guilds behind you, both which you won't have on this adventure."

    "You think they'll attack me on my journey?"

    "It wouldn't be the first time they've attacked you. They are as patient as they are sly, they will attack you at your weakest moment."

    "And they are welcome to. It is true that they are the ones who trained me, turned me into what I am. Who would have thought that the created would become greater than his creator? Certainly not they."

    After several seconds of silence, Jaks knew his companion had left the room. He spun around and followed suit, leaving the corpse to rot alone.


    Jaks stood at the southern gate tapping a foot. He had changed out of his darker clothes and now wore a clean white shirt, brown pants, and the brown cloak he had worn to the meeting. He had packed all his weapons, tools, and extra clothing either in the baggage on the ground next to him, in the same bag he had with him in the tavern, or somewhere on his body underneath his cloak. Now, just to wait for the others.
  13. Arthur intentionally tuned out the sliced rambling that suddenly erupted from the oddly beautiful, yet entirely annoying Sun Elf. Her tirade of questions rattled off at an increasingly ridiculous pace. Arthur had been impressed, however, at the singular breath required for the better half of an entire book of questions. The drudging thoughts that mucked his forethoughts were broken as the bard replicated the previous spoken sentence with an impressive accuracy. He remained silent for a long moment, turning towards his younger sibling with a warming smile of insurance. The young Conred slunk out of his hiding shell, turning to the elf and simply smiling while Arthur turned his attention to Fa Leng, cracking a wide grin before answering in a light-hearted tone caked with a hint of sarcasm.

    “It’s a common tongue among Thiefling’s and infernal warlocks. Just a warm hello. That is all.”

    Arthur then turned to Jaks, reaffirming the words he had mentioned not too long ago. His tone changed with a hint of annoyance of repeating himself. His words slurred along slowly as he to mock the rogues listening ability.

    “The south gate will be our meeting point just after the sun rise.”

    The younger sibling finally found courage to speak up, directing his attention to the sun elf, a crooked smile crossing his paling lips as he spoke. His voice held an undeniable tone of royalty, his inheritance of kingship ever apparent in the silver-tongued tone that danced its way into everyone’s ears.

    “It is unwise to judge that what has been judged before simply on appearances. While, I, may be young I can assure you I am more than adequate for leading people. I appreciate your concern however, Heh.”

    Arthur reacted accordingly, ruffling the boy’s hair before turning to Ele, finally addressing her previous questions on how a natural occurrence could lead to anything more than air moisture.

    “The mist is not something you want to question. It’s demonic, pure evil. Verona is quite far. And we require protection from the fiends that inhabit the quickest route to Verona. We don’t have the time to fiddle with taking safe passages. The longer we dabble in useless antics the more people that meet an untimely end.”
  14. Oh, so the prince was a warlock? Fa Leng couldn’t say that he saw that coming. Would have expected that the prince of the kingdom was one of those more righteous types, instead of a mage that dabbled in the magics of hell. With no recommendations given as to taverns and all that, the Dragonborn hefted the coin pouch once more, before saying, “Well, see you all later then!”

    With a wave, he left, and promptly spent the rest of the night going from pub to pub, before finally settling in the Rainbow’s End, drinking and feasting and generally doing things that one should not be doing the night before a possibly-dangerous journey.

    Of course, for a dragonborn with a constitution as mighty as his own, Fa Leng’s bad decision didn’t bear any noteworthy consequences for him. Arriving at the southern gate with the clothes on his back and a rucksack full of dried fruits and meat, the massive dragonborn cast a rather impressive figure in the light of dawn. His bearskin cloak gave him a barbaric charm, his pack was slung over one shoulder, the very essence of an adventurer ready to set off. Noting the only other figure at the gate, Fa Leng waved and called out, “Morning, kiddo! You almost look normal now!”
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