Bling Bling made her way into the darker slums of Fort Vehl. She was soon accosted by a shifty-eyed man who snatched her fake jewel bedazzled purse and attempted to run. She grabbed him by the collar of his dirty tunic before he could get away and slammed him into a wall, returning her gaudy purse back to her bright pink colored belt. As she walked away, two other men ran to the fallen man, stabbed him several times as he lay on the ground dazed, and made off with his purse… and the few meager coins contained therein.
When she arrived at her destination, a small dirty tavern tucked into the end of a dark alley, she knocked on the door three times, one time, and two times in succession. A small sliding window opened in the door and a balding orc with one eye squinted at her. She said “Here fo Shiel.” The window slammed shut, the door opened, and she entered. She hoped she would be able to secure her broker for an assassin here.
As she crossed the threshold she muttered “I teach him. No man say me pretty an run away. No man promise trophy and talk conquest and battle and run like river.”
Soon after, word begins circulating through various nefarious circles that Borris Shiel “The Unwashed” has some “wet work” for a skilled assassin.
*It simply was a long day, one long and bloody day, the man rested in the tavern, his eyes closed with as he used to be, more than once some smart mouthed had tried to steal from him while he was there, apparently drunk and aslept, it surely kept his senses sharp, that day he secretly hoped nobody tried, he just had another duel, another life on his blade, more blood on his hands, one less vagrant on the world he thought, better faced him than someone else that may not have the proper training, what he was becoming himself , he thought himself, a vigilante, a killer, he wouldn't know for sure, but anyway, a blade has not to give those thoughts to that.*
*He was on his thoughs and meditations while waiting for her, the girl had to return as the sun had to set down, plenty of time to wait and meditate and well mabe removing a new threat of this dirty place, he though heard about a wet work, his ears perked upon hearing that, a common work on the dirty Vehl, the word civilized applied barely to the city, he opened his eyes as he looked at the small ratlike man that was speaking with a burly big man two tables away from where they were, he didn't move or set the sight straight, what he had heard was enough, he waited to see what the developments would be, when the burly man and the small one parted ways he stood up, and took his blade hang up on his shoulders and start to walk, .... there was going to be probably a busy evening... and even more bloody. *
Kelvaron Al’dunii sat at the table across from the skinny man in the One Eye’d Harpy. He was disgusted with the human. In Kel’s appraising eye the man was a worm, worthy of nothing further than being stepped on. He was a source of coin though, and work… therefore for the present time he held some worth. There was a short discussion of the terms of the agreement and the target. It would be a difficult mark to skiptrace and locate… which meant more coin. He also sounded like a competent fighter… more coin. For a 500 True fee he accepted the contract. He may have to get creative with this one if he did not want to be put into the ground himself.
Kel noticed the man making an attempt to peek under his hood before they parted and he smiled when he saw the color drain from the man’s face and sensed his fear.
------
The tavern Ausir finds himself currently in is a real “hole.” There are probably cesspools more pleasant then this place. Having defeated a dirt bag in a duel in the alley earlier, the ugly and balding orc guarding the front door was more than happy to allow him entry…especially since he had bet a sizeable amount of coin on Ausir taking out the other guy.
As the words “wet work” reaches Ausir’s ears he looks at the two men a little closer with a practiced nonchalance that makes it not very obvious. Even though they are two tables over from him, he can smell the stale smell of body odor from one of them. It tickles the nose in a very unpleasant manner. Other customers are obviously avoiding these two. It is uncertain if it is because of the stink, or the danger they represent. He overhears the following snippets of conversation:
The skinny man says, “Boss, we have a taker for the contract.” The fat man responds “really?” The skinny one continues, “Yeah, and I thought I caught a real quick glimpse of his face… I’m not sure though, but he might be a “darkie.” It might have been the light, I don’t know. Guy gave me the creeps… and I’m not one to creep out easily. I’ve only seen one before… and almost got my throat cut that time.” The fat man grins “That is pleasant news. One of their kind with his skills is a valuable tool to have in the old toolbox. This one better go through with no hitches. We have the rotation schedule for the town guard on the line for the next thirty days as payment if we make this one work.”
They then get up and leave.
------
Mangus frowns as he enters the front gate of Fort Vehl. Moreg happened to be on duty and he nods his head in greeting to a fellow “tusker” and mumbles… Me’s needs to finds man like that fo sista… Not little flea.” Mangus overhears this.
Post Removed. Thanks for your understanding.
-Rave
*Ausir pull the hood upon his now braided hair, the hood and the hair that fell over his face hide a smile, somehow twisted to smile in a situation like this, but it was somehow unexpected to caught as much information, he looked upon the features of the men leaving and make sure to catch the memory of the "distinguished" odor, plenty of thought came to his mind, and for a moemnt he felt doubt, it was vanquished fast*
*He thougth for a moment on the improvement that this hs been m and the dangers that may come with this, like that had stopped him in the past, if any he was as stubborn as his mother, letting the two men move away, a bit Ausir saw himself took his belongings and leaving the place, not without giving a tip to the baldish and ugly orc guard as he left, he walked thru the city, armed and thoughtful , following the couple for some blocks, before he retake the road to the down town quarter of town, he had to make note of the tavern, and eventually vanished into the night*
//OOC announcement. An NPC is being substituted for Gromak in this plotline. I’m going to change references to him in any threads that have him there. Apologies for any confusion this may cause. The new NPC is a Halfling named Brint Stiffle Fiercerock.
Please continue as was, if anyone has OCC comments or questions please do via PM.
The balding orc door guard smiled wide as he accepted the coins and said “Youse needs anythings in this part of town, youse see’s me. Tells me whense youse fight again... Me make big coin. Ask fer Ichock. That’s Me!
The tavern has no name. Ausir notes it is in an alley off of Rude Street near the intersection of Talent Street.
The two men walk for a couple of city blocks before Ausir decides to make his way to the downtown quarter. He notices that anyone passing by the duo seem to avoid them. Most look either afraid, or cautious.
Moreg looks at Mangus and frowns even deeper. “I not good! Sista pining way over little flea halfling. Drive Moreg Crazy! He tell her she pretty, now she love him. Bahh!”
Moreg then grabs a nearby merchant passing through the gates and does a quick and rough “pat down search.” The startled man is too afraid to do anything but comply. Moreg gives him a shove to send him on his way. “You good! No contraband!”
He looks at Mangus again. “You should grab her and take her!”
A cloaked figure approaches the man at the bar, cautiously looking about for prying eyes as he does so. As he reaches the bar, he slides a coin across it, keeping on finger on the good piece to make it clear there was something that needed to be done to earn the gold.
"What do you know about a 'Briant Stiffle'?" The cloaked figure says, releasing the coin.
The barkeep smiles and takes the coin. "Nothing at all."
The cloaked figure, upon hearing the unsatesfactory response, fades from sight. Some of the people nursing drinks in the bar look about but give it little thought, deeming their ales more important. The barkeep then feels the point of a blade being pushed against his back.
"I said, tell me what you know about Briant Stiffle"
The startled barkeep quickly hisses "Whoa there stranger. No need to get your fine lace panties in a bunch." Several nearby customers decide to relocate at that point, not wanting to get involved with the barkeep's problems. The bald orc doorman starts to make his way to the bar, but when the cloaked stranger digs his blade slightly deeper and blood begins to ooze around the point he quickly waves the orc away.
The barkeep says quietly; "Obviously you don't know what you're getting yourself into... but I guess that's your problem. There's a small mercantile embassy of sorts ran by the Halfling Fiercerock Clan near the city gates... Not much more than a few offices. You might find some answers there."
The cloaked figure reaches down, snatches his coin back, and shoves the barkeep away from him. He hops over the bar, gives one staring customer a slight snarl, and pushes past the bald orc out into the streets of Vehl.
Once outside the door, he fades from sight into the shadows, and makes his way back to the inn where is he is staying. After locking the door and bracing it with a chair, he opens a trunk he brought and pulls out a few items. He changes from his dark outfit into a set of gold robes with the mark of Roferian on them(still complete with a slot for a hidden dagger), and applies a white cream to his face in order to disguise his dark elven skin. A hat is put on his head to cast shadows over his red eyes, and he then exits the room.
An elf clad in the robes of the Roferian church enters the halfling merchantile embassary, and finds the halfling that looks to be in charge of the small folk.
"Greetings, sir. Do you know of a Brint Stiffle? We have had some reports of a man who got information about him at knifepoint from a barkeeper, and we believe that Brint may be in danger. If you could tell me where he is or how to get in contact with him, you may be saving his life."
The elf patiently waits for a response.
*Ausir returns the next day to the same place after some time on the slums of Vehl, he nods at the bald orc and exchanges some words with him, before taking his usual spot at the table. *
"Diss here deposit Mr banker is deh result er hard work an' Perseverance! But Er ain' gonna give it all to yew. Nope! Er gonna go celebrate down ert diss little water'n hole don' too many folk know's about! Yep!"
Mangus exits the bank and winds his way through Fort Vehl to a tiny little not well regarded ally named Talent Street. as he does this, he reviews in his mind is exchange with Morag. Bling Bling needs a new boyfriend and Morag want's it to be Mangus? He considers all the reasons why that arrangement wouldn't work. The most important reason being Mangas doesn't want to girlfriend, but the second most important that his grandma would find a way to kill him more than just once. Yet, secretly, he can't deney Bling Bling's attractiveness. Her fat Orcish features with the curve of her fangs and hog like snout, represent a special kind of ugly that only an Orc like Mangus could apreciate. Still, he wasn't looking for a girlfriend and his gramma wouldn't approve.
Gramma keeps a special club in the kitchen, waiting for him to come home with that sort of announcement...
He approaches less than stately door on a less than stately dwelling and gives an even more less than stately secret knock adding a few extra personalized wraps that identify him as Mangus. As he waits for a response he begins to sing to himself again only this time in very hushed tones.
"...An' Gromak an' Harri an' me...
Will sail deh seven sea's...
An' drink till we can't drink no more..."
The Halfling behind the counter of the Fiercerock establishment raises a bushy red eyebrow and gives the Rofirein clad elf a piercing look. “Brint Stiffle eh? Have not seen that bloke about for days. I can take a message for ya though.” He whips out a huge purple feather quill (nearly 2 feet long) and a pot of ink and stares at the elf intently, ready to take down every single word of his message. Several other Halflings in the room are chatting merrily away in the Halfling tongue. Some glance at the elf from time to time with grins.
-------------
As Ausir enters the shabby little bar and nods at the balding orc, he sees Ichock motion him over. The balding orc whispers to Ausir and places a light hand on his shoulder, “Youse should be here yesterday! Good fight fer youse fer shure. Bartender attacked by elf.” He gives you a gloating look. “Mez thought I peek and seez red eye on elf. Good fight, no?” Ausir looks up just in time to see another orcish fellow wander into the bar.
-------------
The bar is Mangus’s kind of place. He has visited the establishment from time to time for several years. No disrespect here. No prejudice. Everyone is the same… the dregs of Vehl. A place to live by the knife… or in his case the club. He sees the familiar sight of Ichok whispering something to a human. A handsome human that he knows is Ichok’s usual “type” and he chuckles to himself. Mangus takes a stool at the bar, slaps the countertop, and blurts out “My usual Mario!”
*Ausir nods slowly at the Balding orc and grins returning the gaze, passing a gold piece to him* You see this elf again, you tell me more ,deal ?
*Upon the fight reference, Ausir tilts his head to one side, leaving his half braided hair fall to one side of his head, his hood covering his features mostly, and replies* Maybe, maybe, it sounds like interesting at least, but i usually don't put value of the warrior upon a display of bullyness *Gesturing over to the barman* But we'll see.
*Ausir moves closer after giving a small nod to the baldling orc, coming closer to the bar, he pulls a stool, he notices the other cherry orc that is just ordering "his usual" and nods to the orc in the stool near him, upon sitting he calls the atention of the barman and speaks in low voice *
Greetings.. . I heard you had a small issue happening around.. with certain elf ... Mind to share the story .. it may prove beneficial for both our interests. *the wolf like hunger shows in his eyes for just a moment, before it returns to his usual neutral features , he pulls out some coins and order the same the orc is drinking*
The gold clad elf smiles slightly.
"You must understand that, with the recent events, I am not exactly trusting of all when it comes to this matter. We are worried that whoever is seeking information about Brint may be watching the Church, so it may be best if nobody but Brint, yourself, and I know about this. This may be best to be kept a private affair until this man is caught and tried."
The elf then begins to recite a message for Brint.
"Mr. Brint Stiffle,"
"It has come to the attention of the church that a man is looking for you, and it would appear he does not have good intentions. I hope that you will take the wise path and meet me behind the Inn on Talent Street in two days time. We need to discuss a plan of action to keep you safe from whoever this cloaked figure is. He was heard to fade in and out of sight before putting a knife to the back of a barkeep, and so we fear he may skilled at the art of stealth, making him an even larger threat. That is why this must stay private between you and I. I fear he could be anywhere, and so even other members of the Church can not be trusted. Not because of them, but because of other prying ears."
The elf then nods to the halfling to finish writing. "I do hope you can get this message to him in a timely manner, for his sake."
He then returns to his room at the Inn to sharpen his blades and make sure his poisons are ready.
After the gold-clad elf departs, one of the Halflings who had been chatting and laughing in the room frowned. “What do you think Alieaster? He did not even leave a name.” The older red-haired Halfling laid down his large purple quill and also frowned. “Aye... suspicious it is. You need to hole up somewhere safe… and start using a new name. We may need to get you out of here in a jiffy… so keep close, and hidden.” He then turned to one of his fellows and said “Stein, go to the temple and make some inquiries. See if anyone else has heard of this matter.”
Two hours later Stein returns. “Alieaster, it’s a sham. Nobody has heard of any danger or ill will towards Brint.” The red haired Halfling frowns and then says; "make arrangements for Brint to make a hasty exit to the homeland today. It looks like the rest of us have a meeting to attend behind Talent Street in two days. Sharpen your knives boys…”
//This quest is now being calendared for in-game quest time. The event should be posted on the calendar soon.
// I'll post a response soon. Please consider Teo's PC not present any more.
Erased. :-)
Erased :-)
Aliester and Stein gave each other foreboding looks as they watched Brint strapping on his katana. He had refused to head to the safety of the homeland, and they began to follow suit as they armed themselves and tightened armor straps. Aleister should have known that the lad would not run to hide from danger. Inwardly he approved greatly… but he also had dire misgivings.
Six Stronghearts from Clan Fiercerock were soon on their way to an alleyway near Talent Street to find out who the strange elf was… and what he wanted with Brint.
//Teo, PM me your tactical plans and intentions. Be as descriptive as possible and include alternate ideas. Do not post here. This is going to be a “go” for Saturday regardless of other turnout. ;-)
*Ausir smirks upon the orc falling to the ground, he still leaves it the beverage, as he was going to buy it for the now knocked down orc, he shakes his head and return his gaze upon the barman awaiting for the replies he previously asked, this time passing a small bag with gold pieces to get his atention back * So.... ?
Mangus looks around the seemingly too quiet room. He hears crickets chirping in the background. Laying a fist heavily on the bar to get everyone's attention, he says: "Er said.... Erm buy'n a round fer deh house! Dunno one gonna say thank yew?!"
He shovels his coin toward Mario.
"Tough croud" he murmurs as Mario collects payment for all the drinks. "What's go'n on Mario?" He asks in a more tempered voice. "Folk around here seem er little on edge?"
He sips his beer more conservatively this time while he waits for Mario's response.
Vehl. . .
It had been a long time since she had been removed from her head at the block that sat in the courtyard outside the Rofireinite Temple. The mistakes of those days had been well learned in the time since. She was an soldier in service to a new master now, one that was not defined by her ego.
But Vehl... Vehl never changes.
Disembarking from the small chartered ship from Mariner's, Tyra wore her finest dress, a black hood and cloak, and carried a velvet suitcase carrying all of her essentials. She was immediately greeted by the familiar gruff sound of one of the crooked dock worker's voice. "Papehs plees." This one looked familiar, and had a gold pin attached to his second-hand (or maybe third hand, judging by the blood stains) petticoat. One of Arkolio's, perhaps, she thought to herself.
Regardless, she passed him her papers rolled neatly in a black velvet lined tube with violet embroidery, and the Silver Buckle's insignia as the cap. She got the desired reaction, watching his lip curl in a small grin. "Lavendeh Blacklace, eh?" the grunt said, reading aloud the name. He had to be one of Arkolio's. Of all the grunts she'd met in her time in Vehl the one's who could read were almost always Arkolio's. But there were others in the city who liked to know who came and went through the fort, one with the means to educate their peons enough to read papers and spy on letters, so she would have to just see what came next to determine who he really belonged to. "Says yer stayin' at the The Green Dragpn? Sounds like ya need an escort. This city ain't safe this time ah day." He must be new. He gave away his intentions too easily after that.
"Oh, truly? Well if it is no trouble." She knew it would be though. That was the point.
They barely managed to get out off the pier when she was forced to leave the grunt face up in an alley, discretely incapacitated by the æther she kept up her sleeve. She left him with his life after she dragged him behind a crate, but kept his purse.
After that it was an easy walk to the One Eyed Harpy. She knew which alleys were safe and which were not, and her Corsainian fan (and the make up she wore) kept her face unrecognizable at a distance. Once there she rented her usual room, paid for in advance years ago with a favor, and discarded her dress in exchange for a finely tailored suit. Along with a change of make-up and an assortment of gadgets and blades tucked into their designated pockets, she was ready to stalk her old hunting grounds for a few days, before her duties in Tau'ren required her and her charter to return.
It did not take her long to find something going on. Leaving the Harpy and turning down an alley toward Talent Street, where most of the unclaimed muscle and blades-for-hire spent their time waiting for patrons (and prey) she found three men, one face down in the dirt, two rifling through the third's corpse. They immediately turned to see her, and ran, leaving the dead man to color the sandy alley with his blood. She ran in to them not far away, however. She gathered they double back around her, based on the sound of their footprints coming up behind her. She was not worried though. When the first made contact with her, he found himself hip-tossed in to a barrel across the alley. His partner just ran.
Once on Talent Street, she found anothe corpse. Some thug must have tangled with a man wielding a broad sword, based on how cleanly his strenum was cleft. An orc was standing nearby, beside a door with a port hole in it. A guard of some sort, and he clearly was not the killer of this thug. The orc bore an axe.
As she pondered the body, untouched and still bearing all the valuables the poor sod had, a voice whispered behind her. "Welcome home, Stalker."
In a flash she was wielding Virtue and Vice, and the alley rang with parrying blades. This one was good to have noticed her, and dangerous if he got that close before she heard him. But his advantage was his stealth, and he gave it up. Her advantage was 30 years of intense training, and as she sliced each tendon as he presented them to her, she made the promising assassin kneel at her feet before delivering a pommel to the temple, knocking the man out cold.
She then swirled at the sound of a rusty door opening, and instead of more combatants flooding in to the street to claim whatever bounty she might have on her head, she saw just the orc, gesturing for her to enter. Wiping her blades off on the would-be assassins shirt, she went inside. If nothing else it proved one thing:
Vehl never changes.
Kelvaron was satisfied with his work. Although it had not worked out to his plan exactly, it was a clean kill nonetheless. It was an assassin's kill, a clean shot. And he got to play at pretending to be a Roferianite and trying to arrest someone.
After the Fiercerocks had cleared the area and a sufficient time spent hiding to make sure they had not left someone to watch, Kelvaron pulled off his Roferianite disguise and changed into his normal green and black clothes. He slid into the bar where he had first accepted the contract, and turned to the bar keeper. "Your information was good..." Kelvaron slid a gold coin, the same coin he had used to get his lead on Brint from the bar keeper in the first place, back across the counter. He then turned and saw the worm he had first taken the contract from.
"Job's done." He said as he slid into the seat across from the man. "Brint met an unfortunate end. An end that costs you 500 trues." He looks at the man, awaiting his coin.
The seedy tavern near Talent Street was busy as usual, packed with the dregs of Vehl. Smoke floated throughout the common area, and flickering light from oil lanterns hanging from the rafters cast everything in an orange glow. Thick shabby curtains had been pulled tight across all of the windows. Mangus sat at the bar drinking raucously, and Ausir was busy bribing the bartender for information. Farros Galdor was plying his trade in a corner, his audience held in rapt attention, bound by the skill of his words. Ben’Vrackie was quaffing copious amounts of brew. Standing in another corner, a little out of place was the silent man with no name, a monk who had bested three opponents in bare fist fights earlier in the evening. Everyone appeared be staying clear of him. Walking into this scene was a woman being ushered in by Ichock, the orc doorman. He was grinning, teeth jutting out of his mouth.
A short time later yelling and cries from outside interrupted and several of the tavern patrons rushed out to see what was going on. Six Halflings were milling about, blades drawn, eyes flitting between streets, doorways, and rooftops. When the tavern patrons began asking questions they were able to ascertain that an elf had been masquerading as a Rofirein Protector and had tried to take one of their number into custody… Brint Stiffle Fiercerock. When they attempted to defend Brint they were engulfed in magical darkness and the fake Rofirein Protector was gone when it cleared.
Scanning the roof tops, Lavender Blacklace picked out a shadow, a form of someone watching. She squinted, saw movement, and before she made a warning an arrow pierced the back of Brint’s head and protruded through his eye socket. He fell over prostrate; all movement at that point involuntary muscle twitches. Lavender jumped into action, scaled the sides of the close buildings and made her way to the rooftop to confront the unknown individual. He was already well ahead of her. Ausir began the ground chase, looking to the rooftops for indication where to go, but the warren of alleys, streets, and dead ends quickly confounded him. He made his way back to Talent Street empty handed. Mangus attempted to heal the Halfling, but death had already come for him. He also found a green substance on the arrowhead consistent with some type of blade venom. If the strike had not been true, death may have still been likely.
Soon, after losing the assassin to the shadows Lavender Blacklace returned via the roof tops and dropped an abandoned set of Rofirein robes to the street. She had found them while following occasional smears of white make-up. The same substance was on the robes. Farros Galdor stepped forward, knelt next to the robes and picked up the material, rubbing it between his finger tips. He began a low chanting dirge, beginning the weaving of divination magic. In his mind he saw a blurry side profile of a dark elf, building rooftops drifting by as if he was running, sensed deceit… and the visions then ceased. When he conveyed this to the others Ben’Vrackie snorted “Dark elf. Now the darkness spell makes sense.”
The Halflings gathered the body of Brint and set out for their mercantile compound. No assistance was asked for or taken. Most in the area of Vehl did not give it a second glance. Life in Vehl was cheap… and often short.
The smell of the fat man wafted over Kel. The man smiled with an evil predatory grin. “I’ll determine if the job is done or not.” He motioned to one of his thugs, “Go confirm the death.” After the brute left, another brought the fat man a platter of meat and cheese. He began eating greedily, not offering any to Kel. In fact he did not even look up as he consumed his meal. Kel waited patiently, in his mind visualizing numerous ways he could end the glutton’s life. After a half turn of the hour glass the brute returned and nodded in the affirmative. Borris Shiel “The Unwashed” reached to a bag next to his seat and withdrew a sack of coins and pushed them across the table. “Your payment.” As Kel walked towards the door with his coin the fat man said, “You are my tool assassin. Ensure you do not associate with my enemies. I will know.” He is then ushered out by one of the thugs.
Moreg opened the door of the apartment that he shared with his sister Bling Bling. He was very agitated. He gave her a long hard look. “You flea got squash today. You know somtin bout dis?” She looked away. No tears in her eyes. No reaction. Moreg frowned and knew the answer. “Dis come back to you, I cut you head myself. You fool.”
He then headed to his room and his bed. His shift would be coming early.
//This arc is now complete. It is likely that a future plotline will develop from this though, so keep your eyes open... There will be some ripple-like affects from the event in Vehl as well. Wouldn’t it be cool to tickle Mr. Salvorre’s interest again? ;-)
Thanks everyone for attending, this was a lot of fun for me, and somewhat of a challenge keeping up with 7 people in the chat window and separate locations simultaneously, but I would not have it any other way. You all did a great job.
Kel shoves his 'escort' away from him when the fat man calls him his 'tool'.
"Keep me busy then... Idle hands serve whoever is offering the money."
He then exits the Tavern, being pushed along by the escort.