The Everlasting Symphony: IC.

Play around with roles and whatnot in here, I suppose.

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y7h65
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Re: The Everlasting Symphony: IC.

#46 Post by y7h65 »

"Trust me Avis," Maskerad responded, voice bemused as they turned to address the Avean, ignoring the other two humans present. "I will take no part in this conflict, whether directly or indirectly, if I can help it. Allow me to state this first. I have never been in a war. I have, however, been in the aftermath of many large conflicts. I have done many... distasteful, things in my life but I believe that that is not much to claim considering some of those present. But at the same time, I have also seen many horrible things done by those that claimed themselves to be soldiers. I have seen how wars scar the ground and earth that they take place in. I have been present, several times, for when a mercenary band decided to ... treat, themselves to the woman and girls of a village that they were ransacking due to a lack of pay."

Leaning forward, hands arced together in front of his face, Maskerad continued with a tired voice. "Make no mistake. I am not trying to imply that you are not aware of such travesties and incidents that occur as a result of war. I am sure you all have at least some idea that such things happen. What I am trying to say is that for a long time, I simply stuck to my job. That is, well,"

Maskerad paused for a moment and reached at the sleeve of her jacket, pulling it up to reveal an inch of skin that had been hidden by the gloves and the jacket. Underneath the article of clothing was a massive burn scar that encompassed the entire limb and, from what you can tell, stretched up their arm and ended somewhere on their hand. "One day, I was tasked with retrieving something valuable that a noble had left behind in their hasty retreat from the front that they claimed to love to be on. On my way there, I came across a situation that I could not ignore. Small village damaged by war, survivors, and mercenaries with more steel in them than intelligence. I had to clean them up and I almost finished it when their leader hit me in the side with a fireball. The attack burned off most of my flank and arm. I managed to take him down and retreat back to safety but my little side trip and injury caused whatever it was the noble had left behind to be taken. As a result of that, I lost my reputation and my job. Some people I have met say that some people never realize the horror of war until they see how it affects those close to their heart. What I saw that day confirmed that saying for me."

Standing up, Maskerad grabbed their bag and slung it behind them. Turning to face the group, she said with her voice neutral once more. "Say what you want about me and form your own opinions. Do not take what I have said to be me attempting to preach my beliefs to you. Feel free to consider it but feel free to treat me like a fool as well and disregard it completely. It matters not to me. I hope that the war will pass uneventfully, nothing more than angry words and a show of arms. But if it does not,"

Maskerad turned around, walking away from the table. At the corner of their eye, they spotted a robed and hooded woman, semi-transparent and ghost-like, at the corner of the room. They paused for a moment and in that moment, someone walked in front of the woman and when they had passed, she was gone. Shaking their head slightly to clear their mind, they continued to speak as they walked away. "But if violence does come from this, I hope that you all remain safe." With that they left the table behind.

Moments later, Maskerad found themselves at the bar. Looking at the current occupants, some barbarian and a Basil, it seemed obvious as to where they should sit. The basil, judging by their clothes, was clearly more interesting. Never knew what one of the scales might hear, after all. If anything, this might help them figure out what to do about this war. Walking up to an empty chair next to the Basil, they sat themselves down before calling for another glass of water.
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Myperson54
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Re: The Everlasting Symphony: IC.

#47 Post by Myperson54 »

Erik hesitated, then grinned a toothy, serrated grin at the foreigner. "Ah, was not intent, but... Would be nice for having extra persons. Should meet Keetara, my friend." He motioned over to where the other Basili sat, then took a swig of his mead. Good stuff that was, not anything like the bland swill they made in his homeland.

The northerner had guessed his true intentions, after all, or at least guessed them halfway. In all honestly, Erik was lonely in this bar. Save Keetara, there were few he could naturally converse with at a decent level (although he'd been practising his Common). So while he certainly thought the bearded human was a dangerous-looking fellow, certainly useful for Erik and his companions to be allied with, he was also glad to have someone else to talk to. Although it looks like I might have two heads to talk with now, he thought as the... human (Yes, human at the very least, although not much else was discernible from its appearance.) in the mask sat down beside him and ordered a glass of water. The acrid stench of blood slammed in to his nose like the blunt side of a sword blade, although it quickly subsided as they settled into place at the bar. Just who were they? On one hand, he half rejoiced at the chance to speak with this person, this walking mystery he'd spied across the room earlier. The other half of him loathed the need to speak in Common again, although he supposed that when it came to language, nothing would come of nothing. He'd have to try at least.

There was something odd about this person, however, besides the obvious. Their garb, figure, voice and smell were all rather gener- Smell! Erik's mind went on high alert as he tested the air over and over again. They must not notice, he thought silently. Their own scents clogged up the air, cleverly masking the fact that, once the scent of blood from before died off, this person lacked any scents whatsoever, or at least those that mattered. Sure, there was the tang of stale urine that permeated the bar, the smell of beer and mead soaked into the cloth of every mercenary who travelled through this town, but those smells were weak, impersonal. Even the soap used on the floors smelled more distinct than this person, who seemed to give off nothing but the faint scents of oil, oxidizing metal, and maybe a few herbs of some sort. Hardly anything identifying. He shuddered involuntarily, yet while one part of his mind was spooked by this person, another part urged him on. He was so used to naturally smelling things, this sudden lack of scents came as a shock to him.

"Greetings, traveller." He nodded in the figure's general direction, keeping his eyes wandering about the room, in a silent attempt to not have to look at their mask. He followed Jack for a second as she moved about the room, then Kristoph and the gamblers he was chatting with, finally finding himself wandering back over towards the bar. "If not bothering, may I ask name? I am Erik."

... Even that water was odourless....
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Re: The Everlasting Symphony: IC.

#48 Post by Stryder221 »

"My apologies miss Avis, I truly did not mean to offend." The "Noble" said sheepishly.
Only after taking another drink of his ale did he respond.
"Splendid! I foresee this to be a very beneficial partnership for all of us."

Varil listened in silence as "Beck" recounted his(?) story, wondering if the tragedies he mentioned earlier were going to occur during this particular conflict.
Oh, who was he kidding? There's going to be tragedy for one or both sides, be it a large war or a small one, just like every other war in the past.

The things I do for money... If I was smart, I wouldn't be here in the first place.
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Re: The Everlasting Symphony: IC.

#49 Post by triman95 »

With the news of gaining a ally for the upcoming conflict Vladimir took a good drink from his mug in celebration of this good fortune of his. With the removal of his mug away from his lips a smile could be seen, only for a second as it took him a second to notice the new patron of the bar. The mask kept him staring at the new patron at the counter and the choice of drink is a odd one yet to him. Water? A drink that isn't normally drinked at taverns for most. Yet his smile returned, assuming that the masked man had a story of his own and that he may as well be a foreigner of Welvo. Looking at Erik's response to their new company, Vladimir give a response of his own,"If we are new starting to greet others and asking and giving names its only fair I do the same, I'am Vladimir Romanov.

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Re: The Everlasting Symphony: IC.

#50 Post by Lief »

((Collab between Amoeba and myself.))

"Nothing flashy, no." John responded to the woman next to him. "Something more subtle. Perhaps an Elvallian soldier carrying a Cabalian longsword."

Leaning back, he grabbed the mug off the table, taking a swig and setting it back down. John preferred ale or mead when at an inn, but he was on the job and that meant no drinking. "Ever consider doing this full-time?" He asked idly, eyes following the soldier through the inn.

"A meal is boring with just one flavor." Jack scoffed at the idea, waving the thought away with a pale hand. "Only a poor mercenary stays hired forever. Besides, I would miss seeing the world from inside a bar. And who..." Curious brown eyes drifted to the object of her conversationalist's interest. She pursed her lips as the music was silenced, voice drifting into bemused irritation. "Rich, handsome, I should mar myself to match."

"Mm. Understandable. Can't say as I'd like to get a regular boring job, either. A little stability would be nice, though." John shrugged, watching as the soldier approached the stage. He frowned when she made the bards stop playing, but returned to a neutral expression when she began her speech.

Turning to look at Jack, he quickly deduced from her expression and tone of voice that she was jealous. That was not terribly uncommon for Jack, so he had learned over their travels. "My interest in her is purely professional, I assure you. That said, you know I only have eyes for you."

"Narrow eyes have narrow purses and empty bellies." Jack sniffed, as her foot began tapping the pattern of the silenced song while the soldier spoke. Her head inclined, thin eyebrows rose at the brazen proclamation to the inn. Already hired. Who? Not messengers, implied paths too subtle for one side. War already known, bands always better than the one, making war regular employment. Should join-Choice, my choice!-the side of profit.

At the soldier's conclusion, Jack beamed as the music resumed, rubbing her hands together. "A job ahead for me, then. War's a lovely time for a sneak."

"Nobles tend to have narrow eyes, yet their purses are wide and their bellies full." John replied to the odd girl. Though he had grown used to her weird sayings, they were still quite strange and not always decipherable. As his companion grew quiet to listen to the soldier's speech, so did John.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as the speech finished. "A job ahead for all of us, I'm sure."

"Not after the knife." She motioned forward, stabbing then gouging the empty air. "Should I show you the truth of it on someone?"

"Not now," He shook his head, continuing, "Liable to start a barfight, wouldn't end well for anyone. Later, perhaps."

Lips twisting into a pout, Jack folded her arms in a brief huff. "Hmph. No fun at all. Easier to pinch coin in a brawl." She picked up her serving platters and slipped back into the crowds, toothy grin springing back to life. "Three days a war, all the better to drink more!"

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Re: The Everlasting Symphony: IC.

#51 Post by DarkTheImmortal »

Avis Noticed that Varil kept using Miss while adressing her. She didn't think there was that much formality between them, but before she could say something to him, Beck began to spoke. She listened to Becks speech and as they walked away, she thought "I wish the same for you." as a response to their goodbye. She then spoke to Varil "No need to keep calling me miss. There doesn't need to be such formality between us." Then to the entire group. "Now we just have the question of which side to choose."

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Re: The Everlasting Symphony: IC.

#52 Post by Hotep the psychic »

"it wont matter for me as to who we support. But rather if we can work well together as a team."Trevor said looking at varil and avis. His mind wrapped around the detail of war and his kingdoms safety. He then shook the thoughts away before focusing back at the two he was to team with. "so varil you didnt finish ealier how you encountered a saxe knife. Mind finishing?" Trevor asked berore sitting back down to drink
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Re: The Everlasting Symphony: IC.

#53 Post by Tyendinaga »

(Collab Post, Ty and Red)

Rikklin grew a big eyed smile and was about to nod his head in approval and start the game but before he could manage a woman suddenly began giving a speech. It did not directly affect him truthfully, he was a merchant not a mercenary but it still influenced his future decisions. For one thing, should he follow the mercenaries going to Oakenshall or Ctunder? Oakenshall was well known to being the richer of the two nations and offered more opportunities though Ctunder was still a close second and still able to make Rikklin rich if he played his cards right. Not wanting to actually think this through that much, Rikklin simply decided, for now, that he would go to the one that most of the mercenaries would go to.

Turning back to the strange fellow in front of him, Kristoph he called himself, Rikklin nodded approval on his part of the bet. "Thats cool mister! I heard star metals are worth a lot!" He said innocently, eying the goggles, inspecting them. "Oh, dont worry about blood iron, any blacksmith with a big pocket will pay good gold for it! Or it might make pretty colors in a fire..." Rikklin seemed to hint that he knew that kind of stuff.

Extending a hand towards the goggles, hesitating for a second, then picking them up gently, he turned them a few times in his hands, tried them on, smiled with delight, like a kid with a new toy on sol day, then put them back on the table. "Ok, Time to begin!" Taking the dices, he shook them in his hands and then tossed them on the table. The fives dices bounced around, tumbling to a stop, 3 sixes, 1 four and 1 three for a total of 25. "Your turn mister Kristoff...", for once, he didn't seem like an excited little kid, his eyes concentrated solely on the dices.

___

Looking down. The older of the two simply eyes the set of dice in front of him, mentally reading off every number of every die within the grouping. A Roll of Twenty five was...for the lack of a better word, quite fortunate. He let out a deep breath lying his head against his palm. Despite the kid telling him it was his turn, he merely looked onward for the short moment being. Though at first look the roll might not looked substatial given the numbers. But your average roll would be 18, Riklins was much much higher. Given a scant three rolls, A normal person would be hard pressed to simply tie let alone win. If Rikklin was capable of rolling like this all the time, It would be no wonder the traders had been taken for chumps.

"Well, Aren't you just a factory of luck?" He spoke with a smilem, as if suggesting that luck itself could be made and packaged. Of course in times like these, luck was all you had manufactured or not. And in reality, The Engineer didn't even expect to win. Not against changing tides of fate. But he could damn well try.

Reaching forward, he grabbed each die one by one, until they were all within his right hand, positioning each specifically in his palm. He looked across the table to Rikklin, and then side to side at the two traders beside him. There was no real winning without cheating, was there? After all if these two were to serve as any sort of warning, it was fairly obvious.

"Pardon Me, I'd like to do this while standing." He spoke as he slid his chair back and stood up in front of the table, coming to his full height. Oddly enough though, the stance he took wasn't typically one of rolling the dice. His right arm holding the dice merely hung at his side. He took a few simple breaths, all the while leaving time to concentrate, not necesarily on himself, or even how he was going to do this, but solely on the dice. After all, even if you looked like a complete idiot, You had to make your cheating look natural.

Right?

Taking in a final deep breath, he let it out, and without warning, swung his right arm back, and let it pendulum forward till it was just in front of him where he merely opened his closed palm and up into the air the dice were launched. If someone were to watch, the dice would almost seem like they were frozen in time, almost like they were simply hovering as they reached the top of the toss. between being throwen and landing, they would spin but only once. It was a roll with almost no roll, Almost perfectly controlled. Of course, Accounting for the rickety table beneath was an entirely different game all together.

With a crash each of the landed in Tandem, Most shakily bouncing up only to land on the same face they had been, while an unlucky few toppled over onto the adjacent face. Five Five, Six, Four, Five. A total of Twenty-Five. With a blank face, the Engineer looked down to his handiwork, And then back to Rikklin. If this were a game of cards, there would be no way to hang on. But this was a game of physics.

"I believe It's your turn. Let's see how far you can push that luck of yours."

___

Rikklin for a time seemed to be worried that he angered the other fellow for a while. That was certainly not the intention in any way. For Rikklin, the game was just for fun, not for any actual gambling. The fur trader though was all eyes on the game, as if there was nothing else. "This'n gonna be good...", he said, half wobbling to one side from all that ale in him.

Eyeing Kristoth, Rikklin seemed to loose his smile, upset eyes rolled down his face as he suddenly had trouble concentrating on anything around him. Is he thinking I'm cheating? The young Avean thought, remembering the last time he was accused of it and got almost knifed. It was not that this Kristoth was angry exactly, he just let out an... uncomfortable air around him.

Picking up the dice reluctantly, Rikklin shook them a little before letting them drop from his hand. They bounced around on the table like they always did, slowly slowing down to a stop. 2 six, 2 fives and 1 four, total of 26. "Sorry..." He muttered genuinely. "Your turn..."

___

With the curiosity of a cat, Kristoph watched as the dice skitted across the table. Twenty six. He glanced to the fur trader. It seemed that things were heating up? Well, as heated up as a game about throwing little bits of wood could get. For a moment he distinctly wondered in his mind what the restrictions in this game were. The goal was to get a high roll, and it wasn't like the dice were mis weighted.

'Am I actually cheating then?' he wondered to himself, the idea furrowing his brow a slight bit in his genuine unfamiliarity with this sort of thing. Before anything else could whip up in his mind though. a familiar voice came back. Rikklin. "Sorry... Your Turn..."

He blinked a bit. His wandering mind only just processing that the the Avean's face had dropped its smile and voice dropped its cheery tone. At that he found himself looking down at the dice, back to the Avean, and eventually to the Fur Trader, and Back to Rikklin once more. His face was one of genuine befuddlement.

"Can't say I really follow what you're sorry about." He spoke in answer as he leaned against the table to grab up the dice, once again taking the time to order them particularly on his palm. "If It's about the goggles, I'm not going to really miss them or anything if I lose them."

With that said, he wound his arm back once again and swung, the dice once again sailing cleanly through the air and impacting the table, a few once again tumbling to the side and landing off their intended mark. Six, Six, Six, Five, Four. Twenty Seven. Hitting much higher than that was going to be difficult.

"Maybe I could make up some Ice Cream after this, Well, I suppose I don't have the salt for that, Maybe Shaved Ice." He seemed to mutter to himself for the moment, Mind clearly wandering in separate directions.

___

Rikklin took the dice again, this guy was really lucky, like himself. The fur trader was smirking like there was no tomorrow, seemingly expecting what was going to happen.

Shaking them in his hands, Rikklin thought about winning, he just wanted to win at this point. Those goggles were cool and he wanted them. He had heard of these glass spectacles some nobility or rich men wore but never saw any before and now he really wanted them. Besides, they'd be pretty useful wearing while he flew in the air, less bugs in the eyes.

Throwing the dices, with all his thoughts on them, they tumbled and spun on the circle before coming to a stop. All sixes. The fur trader roared a laugh and smacked a palm on Kristoth back. "Cant beat the kid! The moons luck that one!" Rikklin simply blushed under his feathers, muttering under his breath about being embarrassed by the trader.

___

Giving a soft smile, Kristoph merely nodded his head. Winning at this point was of course impossible. Getting a Tie was just slightly less so, though pretty damn close all things considered. Looking up to the Avean he opened his mouth to speak, only to find no words only a short a short though audible fit of laughter.

After a moment though, he managed to collect himself and finally speak. "Well now, it seems you've pretty much won..." He paused. ..."Well, You can't lose either I suppose." He noted with a simple shrug, before simply reaching forward and picking up the dice, raising the enclosed fist up to his face. This was honestly his last chance to get out of this. But, hey, Losing wasn't always so bad, right?

Turning his head down he opened his palm, looking at the bits of wood he held so close to his face. 'Well, No use is being a sore loser any more' He thought, turning his head back to look to the Avean. As he did this he simply pushed his hand forward, the dice tumbling through the air as they smacked down onto the table and tumbled freely about, clattering and bouncing about, mashing into one another freely without outside influence, all of this betraying his usual routine of tossing the dice high into the air. One by one though, they came to a stop. Six, Four, Five, Six, Six. Twenty seven once again. He chuckled a bit, finishing with a quick sigh to collect himself once further. Something about this was all strangely and perhaps unnaturally amusing to him. Something he was becoming a bit all too aware of.

"Well, It seems you've won Rikklin. Fair and Square." He glanced down to the table, the dice in particular "Or Cube, something of that sort." He continued. After a moment he glanced back to his Basilian friend, who was still seated at the table they had been earlier.

"Anyway, It'd be bad form if I were to ignore what I was asked to do. so, would you like to come over and talk to my Shady Lizard friend back there?" He asked, motioning behind himself with a thumb pointed back over the shoulder. "If not, It's perfectly understandable."

___

Rikklin smiled as much as was possible for an avean to do. The man was a good sport, not what he thought at first. Taking the goggles, he wrapped them around his top hat and smiled again, no more bugs in his eyes while he flew at least!

The big fur trader let out one of his signature laugh and started walking away. "The sun be with you both but I'm calling it a nigh. A drank to many for me..." He said, wobbling away more then walking. Rikklin himself though looked at the man Kristoth, then at his lizard companions, then back at Kristoth. He has no fear of the lizard folk, he was raised by one after all. "More friends is never a bad thing." Rikklin smiled an innocent child's smile. "Lead the way!"

___

"All righty then!" The engineer spoke, spinning on his heel and turning his way away from the table, Rikklin in tow shortly behind him. All in all today had been a good day, or so he supposed. Things went smoothly, nobody died, nobody got stabbed. Couldn't really ask for much more given a they were in a bar full of potentially inebriated Mercenaries, of whom it would only take one for things to go straight to hell. After a mere moment or two, he found himself standing by the table where Keetara was sitting, Erik evidenly still off in some direction somewhere.

Stopping, he motioned to Rikklin and then Keetara. "Rikklin, Meet Keetara." He spoke, then motioning from Keetara to Rikklin. "And Keetara, Meet Rikklin." He spoke with a nod, taking a moment to step back a bit so the two could get a better view of one another, and greet one another, or something.

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Re: The Everlasting Symphony: IC.

#54 Post by Stryder221 »

"Oh? Well then, mi- ah... Avis. My apologies, it is somewhat of a force of habit."

The "Noble" turned to Trevor. "It's really quite simple. You see, back home in..."
He stopped right then in a manner incredibly abrupt, his face taking on a stony expression.
"I met a ranger once. The end. It's not a thrilling story."

Varil then reached for his Ale, taking yet another drink. Just this last one... He thought. I'm already getting too careless with my words. I never could drink very well.
"Quite frankly, I could care less which side we fight for. If I get paid, and don't get stabbed, I'm perfectly happy."
E͎͖̯̱̻͡r̲͇r͢҉͈͚ò͈̹̰̩̺͓̝̘̟̕r̨̡̺̥̲̰͕̭̬:̵͙̦̟̮̖̯̞́͢ ̴̛̞̙͙̠̲̝̟S̵͎̼̖̜̯͕̺͔̀i̶͉̟̝̻͕̺g̢̤͕n̴͈̩̝͓͖̹͕̟͢a͕̺̱͞ț̸̛͓u̢̥̣̣̰̪ͅr̨̠͙̯̣̣̘̠ḛ̡̨̟̗̥̰̱̻ͅ ̻̮̼̥͕̼͉͎u͏͔̳n͏͔͈̭̭͟a̮͕͖̲͕͙͔ͅv̺̦̼̥̭͙a͏҉̦̺̫̯i̝̙̳̜l̴̡̳̥͠a̢̘̬͈͢ͅb̶̶̦͉͙́ḷ̸̙̙̳̩̥́e͔̪̳̦̫͚̪̹ͅ.͖̠̗͔̖̞ͅ

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Re: The Everlasting Symphony: IC.

#55 Post by Hotep the psychic »

"quite the uh. tale?"Trevor said before finishing his drink "well if you dont mind im going to visit the others" Trevor said before grabbing his bow and shouldering it then walk around finding a group consisting of a lizard like person and the two men playing dice earlier. Trevor walked up without a word not wanting to intrude on any conversations at the moment and only stood quiet.
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Re: The Everlasting Symphony: IC.

#56 Post by Twippit »

Keetara shook his head when his second companion left the table. His intention had been for Kristoph to bring the young avian back to their table, where the old basili and his two young lieutenants would discuss a business arrangement between the two parties; but it looks like Kristoph got sucked into a game of chance, and Erik got distracted by the drinking to be had nearby. Keetara smiled fondly. Children, he thought. Can't keep 'em on one track for too long.

Keetara settled back in his chair and took another drink, both with his eyes of the room and his lips of the flagon. The group at the other table seemed to be growing irritated with each other... Kristoph was getting settled into his game... Erik was attempting to chat up a barbarian from the north at the bar... Goral snoozed softly on the table... The ale in Keetara's flagon was crisp... And rain continued to pound on the roof.

The door opened rather suddenly, and in walked a sopping wet figure. Keetara's ears confirmed what his eyes saw; the wet drizzle of tiny waterfalls cascading from a tired back, a weary limp, and the chafe of steel on leather. The figure was human, Keetara could tell by the gait alone. Female. Not quite middle age. Long blond hair... Wait... Keetara knew those traits...

“Oi, you look like a real mess... But that should be usual for you,” the bartender laughed to the newcomer.

The newcomer turned and flashed a smile, and Keetara got his first good look at her face. Grey eyes, a strong Pendrakon chin, a scar beneath the eyes -sure enough, Killi was back in town.

“You’d like to step outside? I’m sure you’re dying to swim; Sol knows that you probably can seeing how it is extraordinarily wet out there,” Killasandra replied.

Killasandra and Keetara went way back. After a misunderstanding between her and one of her first bands caused Killi to be alone and penniless in Gilora, Keetara took her in and helped show her the ropes. She was competent as far as her mercenary skills went -but what always had been her forte was planning and leading. So it was no surprise when she'd left to do some politicking on behalf of the mercs in Ctunder and Oakenshall. But if she's here...

Something Killi said broke Keetara out of his reverie. “Oh, do you mind if I use the stage for a bit? I have to announce something,” Killi asked the bartender.

The bartender waved his hand dismissively. “No, no. Do what you must,” he said, turning away to wipe a spot off the counter.

Keetara leaned forward, resting chin on his folded hands, listening intently. Whatever this was, it was bound to be good.

Killasandra walked in her self-important way up to the stage, signaling for the bards to stop. “My fellow mercenaries; cease and desist,” She cried out to the inn. “Quiet I say, quiet! I bring news from the Kingdom of Ctunder and the Kingdom of Oakenshall.” Killasandra pulled a piece of parchment out of her pouch and unraveled it. “The mercenaries that are being hired by the lords of Oakenshall will need to travel to the town of Willovale. The mercenaries that are being hired by the lords of Ctunder will need to travel to the village of Ironforge. These will be your designated recruiting stations.”

Willovale and Ironforge, eh? Keetara thought. What bizarre places for recruitment. Willovale is a small trade town, a mere rest stop on the way to Oakenshall; and Ironforge is a small mining community in the northern Ctunder mountains. Both are key for the war effort, but not big or central enough of a location to warrant a recruiting station... Why there? What's she playing at?

Killi continued. “Remember that the lords are paying mercenary bands more than they have for individuals. That means you will be given significantly less money for being by yourself than to be a part of an actual group. The larger the band, the more money the band accrues and the more money you will get. The rain is said to stop in a few days, so the recruiting stations will be hiring around three days full. Be there on time and prepare.” Killi put her parchment back in her pack, and cast her iron gaze across the assembled toughs and muscle. She still held that youthful defiance that Keetara knew so well, as if she was daring anyone in the bar to ask a question.

The bar stood silent.

Killi nodded. “That is all, you may now go back to drinking.” With that, Killasandra walked off the stage. The tavern bubbled back into its usual mild clamor. She muttered something to the service dwarf and made her way to where Keetara sat alone.

"Mein Gott, Killi!" Keetara exclaimed, jumping from his chair and startling poor Goral. "How have you been? It's been so long! Oh, I forget myself; Please, sit. I'm sure you have much to say."

“Oh Keetara, my dark brother,” Killi replied affectionately as they both took their seats. "I've kept well. Life is good in the cities, away from the battlefield. Dreadful boring, but good. And you? How have -oh!" Her face twisted with concern. Killi reached out and touched Keetara's face, and he winced away. "You have a new scar, you poor thing! How did that happen?"

Keetara gingerly touched the scar in question. "It's a long story, and not entirely pleasant. How about you? Finally tire of clean clothes and fresh mead?"

Killi smiled at the old lizard. "Something like that." She leaned forward. "I found a way to build my nation," Killi said in a hushed voice. She leaned way back and watched Keetara carefully. His reaction would decide everything.

"That's great," Keetara said slowly, "But something tells me you have a part for me to play in this hair-brained scheme of yours."

Killi smirked. Perfect. Killi brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "You're right. Here's what I need you to do..."

For several minutes she sat there explaining her plans. At first Keetara had a look of intense concentration, but soon changed rather suddenly to a look of shock and dismay, and finally settled into an unhappy grimace.

"I don't like it," Keetara said, shaking his head. "You knew I wouldn't like it."

An odd look crossed her face. "Was auch immer passiert, um Die Fünf?" she said in Basili. "'Opfern Sie sich nie in die Lage ein andere,' war es nicht?"

The old basili paused. "Meine Begleiter, Erik und Kristoph, werden sie...?"

Killi nodded. "Sie werden sicher sein, so lange sie nichts tun, dumm."

Keetara sat back and considered for a moment, stroking Goral. "Will there be gold?"

"Plenty."

Keetara emptied his flagon and slammed it on the table. He looked his old companion dead in the eyes. "Count me in."



The two caught up for a few minutes longer, then Killi made an excuse to leave. She had found another mark she wanted to discuss "business" with...
Spoiler!
Killi took long, purposeful strides to the wandering "barmaid". She placed a light hand on the small of the other woman's back. "I wish to speak with you," she whispered in the younger woman's ear, "privately."

"I should say the same." Jack murmured, leaning into the touch. "But with me, payment comes first."

Without missing a beat, Killi retrieved two gold coins from her pouch, snaked her hand through Jack's arm, and placed the cold bits of metal flat against the girl's bare neck. Killi's breath was hot in Jack's ear. "There's more where that came from," Killi breathed. She moved her hand from the Jack's back to the woman's waist, tugging lightly. "Come with me, let us... Discuss further."

Briefly allowing herself to be pulled along, she slipped out of Killasandra's grasp, lips quirking into a challenging smile as she played with the small coins between dextrous fingers. "As these things go, I rate yours rather well." Jack swayed towards the stairs leading upwards, seemingly unaffected by the other woman's advances by the lack of a blush. "Let's make another more interesting pair, then."

Killi nodded, her eyes narrow and keen like a hunter. Lust pervaded the air around her. This was a dance she knew well. She lightly gripped the younger woman's wrist and, with a coy glance over her shoulder, led her up the stairs. As soon as the pair were out of sight of the other patrons, Killi threw the smaller woman against the wall. She pressed herself close against her partner's body and stared deep into the girl's big brown eyes for a moment.

Jack matched Killasandra's hungry stare, running her tongue across smooth lips as her breathing accelerated. "I am at your mercy, then." She murmured, hooking her leg around Killasandra's to pull their bodies closer together.

Killi smiled wolfishly, her body tingling. She reached a hand up and cupped the younger woman's breast. She brought her face close -close, so close- to the girl's neck, breath hot and smelling of sensuality. "You have keen eyes," she breathed. "Much like a Falcon... Or perhaps you prefer Hawks?"

Jack placed one slim hand atop Killasandra's, encouraging her on with fluttering breaths and quiet gasps. She closed her eyes, back arching at the sensation of warm breath on her skin. "Th-the crow eats best." She responded haltingly.

Killi paused, but only for a moment. Her smile grew ever so slightly. "Mmmmm," she moaned, trailing kisses up Jack's neck to the girl's full lips. She opened her eyes slowly and looked into the other woman's big brown swirls. "Beautiful and wise." She stared for a moment longer. "Tell me," she husked, "where do the crows flock?"

"Wherever they wish." Jack whispered, resting her free hand on Killasandra's flushed cheek. Her fingers stroked a slow path along a smooth jaw. "But they do like the shine of gold."

Killi nodded approvingly and leaned in for a passionate kiss. She massaged Jack's breast rhythmically, removing her other hand from Jack's wrist and running it through the smaller woman's hair. Jack filled Killi's senses; soft touch, pale skin, quiet moans, sweet taste, and smelling of... cucumbers.

Killi broke off suddenly, breathing heavily. "Soon the crows will make a nest from the remains of the nests of hawks and falcons," she said breathlessly. She pulled herself away, and looked Jack up and down, admiring her handiwork. The thief stared back at Killasandra with wide eyes, panting. A faint blush was apparent on her cheeks, and her lips were parted slightly as she blinked in seeming confusion. Killi smiled smugly. "Meet me in Willovale," she stated simply. With that, Killasandra turned and walked down the stairs, wiping her face and straightening her armor as soon as she was out of sight.

Jack giggled quietly, smoothing down her own mussed hair. The pink of her face faded rapidly, breathing steadied within the span of an exhale. "Too bold by half, and far too quick, but I'll see where you go." She faded from sight into dim motes, reappearing a second later with unmarred skin and resettled clothing. Showing little signs of her brief affair with the scarred woman, Jack slipped downstairs, ready to resume her serving.
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Myperson54
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Re: The Everlasting Symphony: IC.

#57 Post by Myperson54 »

"W-" Maskerad began before a coughing fit wracked their body. "Sorry about that, water went down the wrong way. You may call me Beck."

The masked man sat still for a moment, quietly observing the Basili next to them. It was clear that the lizardman didn't feel comfortable around them which, to be fair, wasn't exactly a surprise. The mask had been called disturbing and offsetting many times in the past and it did work to her favour at times. Though it did make for a poor first impression most of the times which was an unfortunate, but necessary, trait of the accessory. Still, for now, it might be better to try to learn more about this Basili.

"So Erik, what brings you to this town?"

Erik's left index finger, hidden by his cloak, twitched involuntarily, ever so slightly. The mask was nice, at least. "How you say it," he began, "For... Profit. Gain. But also honour, pride. Are few noble warriors," he finished, shaking his head sadly. He picked up his head - careful not to look at the mask, if he could help it - "Why you come to town?"

Standard enough of a reason to come to a mercenary bar, Maskerad mused. Not everyone came for the reasons that, well, she came here for. In all likelihood, many of those within this bar were probably locals rather than mercenaries; just that many of those locals knew how and when to stay low and not draw the ire of an overly violent mercenary.

On the other hand, the Basili was most definitely unsettled by the mask. Even now he was still trying to avoid looking directly at her face.

"Well," Maskerad started, bemusement audible in their voice under a thin veneer of boredom. A distinct Espadan accent could be distinguished as they spoke. "I suppose you could say that I am simply looking for a dry roof to be under while the sky desires it to pour. Just a traveler that does not wish to be wet. I take it you have not yet mastered the language?"

Erik shook his head despondently. "Is much to learn," he sighed. "Much to learn, but no time. Need Common here, but I... am not knowing much. Is very bad," he added, although he realized it was probably overstated by that point. All he needed was a teacher to give him some instruction. He shuddered, and this time it wasn't due to Beck. He felt... out of sorts in this environment, without the necessary social skills to truly be himself. It was weird for him to not be joking around and making snappy remarks - This stupid language barrier was a problem.

He stood up without warning, finishing the last of his mead in one go. "Basili tongue much more... simple for me, but, how do you say it, will make do." Changing the subject, he motioned to the bearded human with a wave of his claws. "Was going to... meet northern man and friends." He pointed towards the table where Keetara and Kristoph were sitting, along with the small Avean they'd spied earlier. He chanced a minute grin. So Kristoph had succeeded, at least in part. "Join us?"

"If you mean to ask me to join you to meet your friends," Maskerad answered, voice neutral. "Then I would gladly accompany you. However I will not be quite so inclined if you wish for me to join the war effort."

Erik nodded understandingly. "Is fair to say, I was thinking of it. Much talk is likely war, but some... maybe not so much war. But! I must go, still." He turned to the northerner as he said this, nodding his head in the direction of his party's table. "Maybe I should also say, friends are... Ehh, interresant, of interest. You might like, war aside."

"Well, if you say they are interesting..." Maskerad began with a neutral, teasing out the pause in the middle of their sentence before continuing with a bemused voice. "Then I suppose I will meet with them. I will tell you now though, I will not be joining your efforts so do not expect me to join as a participant."
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triman95
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Re: The Everlasting Symphony: IC.

#58 Post by triman95 »

"More friends, more fun I say." Vladimir said as he slowly rose from his seat with his flagon in his hand. Seeing that if there are some traveling in Erik's company than that might mean others with courage. Turning towards the direction of Maskerad, "I just hope Beck here won't mind us at least talking about the war if it comes up." jokily saying as he looked down into his flagon and stirring it to see how much was left. To him, Maskerad just seemed be a Welvo whelp.

With a quick drink he finished what was left of his mead and set his flagon down onto the counter. Taking off his cap for a quick second he pulled out a couple of coins from the fold of his hat and placed them on the counter as he put his hat back upon his head. Stared walking towards the direction that Erik nodded to. After a couple of steps turning around to wait for the others. Best to leave Erik to the introductions.Don't want them to think I'm just here to fight. he thought as he waited.

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Re: The Everlasting Symphony: IC.

#59 Post by Geo_&_Bio »

Killasandra smiled for a bit, walking down the down; however, after she wiped her face, the smile disappeared. She seemed to of caught two big catches already, but she was on the hunt for more to be recruited into her scheme; she needs to hire more crows. The Assassin and the Wench, both crows who like to feast off the labours of death. It was natural for her to surround herself with a murder of crows, little clever thieves and killers who will do anything for gold.

Her entire life has been filled with metaphors, but such is the life when people using sigils as if they truly meant something. She looked around the room to see who else she can truly trust. She looked around to see her next willing contestant.

The ranger seems like a good choice for what she needs, but she is unsure of how competent he may be. Maybe he might be useful. Another Basili, completely unsure about that one. A masked man, should one trust a person who hides their face? Hardly.

A small colorful bird gambling with a large handful of winning was next to be caught by her eyes. It was an odd sight indeed, a rare bird child gambling, and winning, in an inn, not something you see every day. Her eyes then moved to the man who was challenging the child, an odd one as well.

The man seems interesting. He wears odd, yet rather plain clothing and is wearing glass attached to leather, or something of the like, upon his head. If she had to guess, he was an intelligent man of sorts. He could be useful to her plans.

There were many good choices to choose from. She managed to spot all the ones she wanted until her eye was suddenly caught off guard. A monster she knew far better than most people she had contact with, including Keetra. A being with objectively beautiful blond hair and a striking charm, its face was considered something close to prince charming in all the fairy tales with its square jaw and smug, satisfied face. Some can say that this being’s only true flaw was its height, a dwarf of man. Killasandra can find a few more flaws then that: Rude, snide, evil little [censored] who betrayed her mercenary company for more gold and then placed the blame on her. Now the little poppie is leader of the infamous Dwarven Battlers.

“Well, well, well. Killasandra. It has been, truly, a long time since we last met. My, my. You truly made yourself a name here in the world. And to think you were but a mere number that screwed up that entire operation so many years ago.”
Killasandra quickly unsheathed her sword and prepared to strike in fury. The blow, stopped in the nick of time, was hardly a threat towards the Dwarf as a trident kept Killasandra’s blade at bay. He was saved by an unfortunate looking being. The unfortunate looking being was small looking, with large legs and arms, but its body was scrunched and it had a protruding hump upon its back. Its face was twisted and noticeably asymmetrical, but it continued to give an evil eye towards Killasandra. It was the dwarf’s bodyguard, Hanal the Hunchback, Champion of the King under the Mountain. Hanal was famed for being quick and deadly despite his appearance, and rumors had it is that he is exceptionally smart despite his constant silence.

Killasandra was far more upset, that devious dwarf sat there smugly behind his goon. “Now, now, Ancalaga. Save that desire for the battlefield. Word is that you are going to be in charge of one of the condottiere auxiliary forces for Oakenshall. Well, I’ll tell you that my band was chosen, by name mind you, to be a part of the forces of Ctunder. So we will get to kill each other then.” He stated with an self-satisfied little grin. “You came all the way here to Gilora to gloat?” Killasandra inquired. “Dear Sol, no. I merely wanted to inform you when I noticed you’re presence up on the stage. Gilora is actually one of my stops that I am taking for my band and I, our stop at the Ctunder capital.” The dwarf still had not changed his attitude, neither has Killasandra. “Well then. I suppose that it will better for me to leave this inn and head to another. I shall take me leave.” He nodded and walked out of the inn. Hanal followed after he twisted Killasandra’s blade out of her hands. Killasandra picked up her sword and re-sheathed it.

“I hate that dwarf.” She exerted with an emphasis on hate. She looked down to her right and saw a rather scared dwarf. “Not you Goff. You’re a fine lad.” Goff turned and eased a bit, still cowering because of its nature. “Var,var nop." it replied.

_________

Outside the Grapes o’ Wrath inn, the dwarf and the hunchback limped their way to their carriage. Another dwarf figure moved closer to the noble looking one. “My prince.” It stated. “Were you satisfied?” The noble, prince charming looking dwarf nodded. “Quite so, master Gilvar. I just had to see her myself. I could not truly believe it.” He stated, his smile becoming less prevalent as he became more and more serious. “When someone said Ancalaga was alive and rounding up mercenaries, I just…” He ended abruptly. “She cannot continue to live, she cannot.”

Master Gilvar looked up to his leader, “But my Prince, couldn’t you kill her then and there?” He inquired. “Gilvar, if I had committed such an act, despite her deserving such ill-treatment, I would have the entire country of Ctunder laughing at me and my band of lovely misfits, using such craven tactics to end our foes. Who will hire us then? Oakenshall? I’d rather kill myself then to lower my standards for such a disgusting and plague worthy country, by Sol’s name.” Gilvar nodded off to his prince. “Of course, my prince. You are right, my prince.”

The noble dwarf sighed as the carriage moved towards their next destination. He looked towards his body guard, Hanal the hunchback. “Hanal, do you have any more of those mind riddle. I solved your last one a few days ago; it took me a month to understand that weird translation. I’m ready for your next one.” Hanal stared into the eyes of his leader. Hanal’s eyes seemed like they were wise but also deadly at the same time, such combination that seems very uncanny and eerie. “Forty dry the Seven hundred few ran. The lead gross why?” The riddle puzzled the leader immensely. “That is a hard one, Hanal. I am definitely going to have a hard time trying to figure this one out.” Hanal chuckled, sounding like a choking rat. “Anything for you, son of Oak.”

____________________

A hooded man walked through the rainy path. He trudges through the mud faithfully, as if on a mission from god. He is unyielding, unbending, unsowed. It is difficult see him in such dark conditions, but to the trained eye, one can see that he is a very dark skinned man, rare in these parts of Wevlo. His black, scruffy beard penetrates the shadowy silhouette. His eyes glow pure white with magic aura, an unsettling feeling when looking at such a figure.

The man stops in his tracks and he begins to sniff the air. “I smell a sinner.” He pronounced. And from the shadows, a mysterious set of men came from the bushes around. “Stand still and deliver.” One of the men shouted, a man who looks to be the leader judging by his masked face. “I have nothing of value, I am a mere pilgrim. I wish to continue my path of righteousness.” One of the other men blurted out with laughter. “Pilgrim, my [censored]. You one of them Moonas. All Moonas are evil Lunnah heathens.” A different man came out and argued against his buddy. “I don’t know about that man. Look at how he’s dressed, I’ve never seen a Moona dress like that. Moonas usually wear those wraps around their heads and wield those devil weapons. He looks like one of them ‘Oly Knights.” The other man spat in disagreement. “Piss on that, he probably looted a poor [censored] off the edge of the woods and thought he could get away with it. He must be a Moona. Moonas are heathens, but they aren’t smart like I am.” He proclaimed.

“Gentlemen. I am not, what you call, a moona. I am just a simple pilgrim who is on a journey to righteousness and…” The masked man interrupted the poor gentleman’s statement. “Quit pissing out your mouth, Moona. Your coming with us. We’re taking you to the church so that they’ll purify your heathen blood while we get paid.” The masked man smiled wolfishly. “Well then.” The gentleman stated. “Let god be the judge of us, sinner.” He proclaimed. One of the highwaymen hurled himself into the mysterious man, only to be cut down in an instant. It was difficult to see what had happened. The man who rushed began squirting blood from his neck region and began his death. The gentleman looked over as the highwaymen began to plunge themselves into him all at once in pure rage.

It was over before it truly began. The gentleman began wiping the blood away from his sword, the sword no-one saw during the fight. After he was done cleaning, he pulled out a strange sphere with untold power. “Obierika, the lamb.” He stated his name. “I have commit sin in defense, pray for my wounds to be healed. Pray for me, for I have eliminated another sinner from this world, but in violence instead of peace. Pray for my weakness, so that I will eventually become strong for you.” Obierika chanted. He stood up from his prayer and looked around and sniffed the air again. He shook his head. “No… the sinner is still out there.”
The ending of the words is ALMSIVI.

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Hotep the psychic
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Re: The Everlasting Symphony: IC.

#60 Post by Hotep the psychic »

Trevor still stood quietly, his hood seemed to increase sound of peoples chatter even when the comtion between the dwarves and killasandra occured. He moved his shoulders some and in a simple movement picked up a simple throwing knife from a nearby man who lay unconcious from ale. he weighted the knife some before finding the inns target. he flipped the knife and caught it blade first before flinging it through the maze of people hitting the target just above its center. "oh well, still would kill someone." Trevor thought.

moments later after doing so he slipped around, his face still covered by the cloak and his bow and quiver on his back. He was now closer to killasandra. He looked at her before looking around the room once more, he leaned on the nearby wall before crossing his arms. "Your killasandra correct? Mind if i ask who the dwarf was?" Trevor asked. His hood was bent to seem he was looking in her direction as he looked at a different man in the bar, Who was obviously drunk as he leaned back before falling over.
As an engineer for war, a thief for hire, and a regular guy, one finds similarities to all these occupations in time.

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