[RP Thread] Grey Dawn

[Wolfe]

Gaseir smiled. "You're in The Quart of Shadows." He was sorting through his inventory, checking that certain items were still in check. "I am Gaseir."

------

Imyas smiled as this man's disdain. He appreciated his efforts to disguise it though. This was the norm for the wealthy and influential in the city. Pretend excitement and masks made of ecstasy to please others, keeping up appearances and preserving reputations. "I had to take care of some business down here, actually. The Grand Enchantress is in quite a foul mood after today's events. Poor human wench, always lets her anger get the better of her. I don't suppose you know of this ithaelum-wielding renengade, do you?"

-----

A young brunette girl patrolled The Valerian Exchange, a basket hanging from her forearm filled with various fruits. She examined the stalls closely, looking for a particular fruit that would help quell a craving. She felt around until she withdrew a blood-red circle from a pile of colourful fruits. It was ripe and moved at the slightest of pressure applied by the girl. She smiled as she handed a faerie a gold coin and turned, spotting someone vaguely familiar. Her smile became a grin.

"You've been quite naughty lately, haven't you?" She said, addressing Cepharys. There was something in her eyes that had changed since their last encounter.

 

[Dragonson]

Cepharys, who was now back on the streets, began slowing down until he could have been mistaken as waiting for someone, although still moving.
He let the mask and cowl drop, his brown hair rustling in the wind.
"I hate shackles."

 

[Phoonix]

"I know nothing more then what i have seen." he said, clearly disapproving of what had happened here moments before.
"And yes i can imagine the Grand enchantress being quit worried about her son. Tell me, do you know how he is doing?"

 

[Wolfe]

Evelyn's grin was relentless. "What did you except? You nearly destroyed the city. Every magehunter in this city is going to want your head. Not to mention what the grapevine is saying about the Ministry..." she dragged on the end of her sentence, satisfied by the gossip. Yes, this was not the same innocent shopkeeper's niece from before. Or rather, this was really who she was.

------

Imyas scowled at the mention of the commander. "He was poisoned by some kind of black magic. Nothing seems to be reviving him. My slave's daughter is a nursemaiden in Temric Square. She says that he is as cold as ice, a dead body but yet still breathing." He said, walking up the street. He motioned for Dara to follow him. "I personally think the Grand Enchantress is unfit for her role given the circumstances."

 

[Dragonson]

Cepharys kept moving forward, slow as his movement might be.
"People break things when they're angry. I was very angry.
Who knows, if some mage-hunter barges into my workshop I might get angry again."

 

[Wolfe]

Evelyn chuckled. It was gentle and innocent, a reflection of the purity of girls her age. She adjusted the basket. "You should be careful. Don't want to cause another Sundering so close to the last one." She said, almost as if she'd find another Sundering hilarious. "How many of your little containers do you have?"

 

[Fussiler1]

No bloody inn around here. What sort of town was this, he often asked himself as he strolled through time, desperate for some distraction. Beer was the best way to forget, and hey, maybe if he almost drunk himself to death, maybe he would forget all the damn bodies, his near-execution and the explosion. A man would hope, he thought bitter as he turned and headed into a different street. Questions kept plaguing him. Who the hell was that Remnant man from earlier?

Ithaelum. As he thought back of the whole scene, he recalled the word Ithaelum. The man had.. channeled that, hadn't he? Yep, he had. It was a bit vague, but now he remembered what the hell Ithaelum was. It was, uh, the magic the Ithuri channeled, and as soon as he came to realize that, more questions sprung to mind. How the hell had the man been able to channel Ithaelum? It wasn't good news, in any case, he thought as he almost tripped over a loose rock.

Where the hell was an inn? He had kept strolling and now, unfortunately, he had no idea where the hell he was.

 

[Phoonix]

Dara followed Imyas "perhaps, but i do no think it my role to judge whether she is or is not." he pondered for a moment. "regardless she and her family have done a well enough job leading this city.

 

[Dragonson]

"Too many. They're way too easy to aquire.
The tricky part is getting the regulator on."
The leather bag strapped on his belt rustled.
"I find them more useful when they're hollow, though."

 

[Wolfe]

Near the gate that led into Lowtown, there was an inn. It was three-storeys tall and quite large. Behind it appeared to be a brewery of some sort, and many humans were congregating outside with mugs filled to the brim with frothy ale. Despite it being the middle of the day, the inn's windows were ablaze with fire. Above the very wide door that went inside was a sign etched into wood - "The Dragon's Breath". The structure was very inviting.

As Azshiir approached, there was another sign written in various dialects - "Humans only, no magi allowed."

------

Imyas scoffed. "I don't understand how you Tahijans conduct yourself in the field of politics, but on the federal stage of Kaydeir the only good thing the Greythorns have brought this city is the Ministry." He continued walking, heading to the gate leading to Hightown. "Why don't you come to the meeting tonight? The Grand Enchantress is inviting the entire Ministry. You could be my companion for the night."

------

Evelyn stopped and turned to face Cepharys. "What if I could get you a few dirty ithuri secrets? Apparently they know a little more than they let on about magic." She said, looking down to the bag, then to Cepharys' green eyes.

 

[Dragonson]

Cepharys stopped.
"I'm not wearing my mask."
After stating that, he then turned around to face her aswell.
A most unbearably friendly smile had overtaken the grim look which he had sported before, and he was quite suddenly holding one of the ivory canes usually attributed to the city's wealthy folk and nobility.
"Would the fair lady be interested in a serving of tea?"

 

[Phoonix]

"perhaps the ministry is the only thing they have done well, but i cannot be the judge of that. I do not know enough about this city's politics to really have an opinion on the matter." he was silent for a few moments. "Yes, perhaps i should accompany you to this meeting... yes i definitely should."

 

[Wolfe]

Evelyn was taken back. "My, what a gentleman. I believe there is a Tahijan teahouse hidden in one of these side-streets. Busy, but private enough." She led him down a few shadowy alleys until they came to a wide side-street. The scent of exotic tea leaves wafted in the air, a sweet aroma that tantalised the nostrils.

------

"Wonderful, I've always wanted a human to accompany me to one of Karina's self-righteous rants. I should go make myself presentable for tonight. I shall have a carriage pick you up when the sun sets." He said, abruptly turning off and rushing into Hightown.

 

[Fussiler1]

As soon as he saw the sign, Azshiir almost ran towards the inn with great speed, finally happy to get a place to rest. Sweet salvation was nearby, he thought with a great grin on his face and he quickly reached out to check how many golden coins he had in his pocket. Enough for a night of drinking, he quickly established. It would be good to take his mind off this mad day and other things, he thought to himself as he approached. It seemed like a warm place and from what he could figure, he thought the sun was going down fairly soon.

As he went closer and he saw the other sign, he stoppe and frowned for a minute, frozen, not sure what to do. No mages? What was that for? He hadn't spend a lot of time in many cities, so he didn't really know. He howevered, longed for a warm place to rest. They wouldn't know he could perform magical feats. Nope, they wouldn't, so what would be the harm? He finally shrugged and entered the inn. Perhaps he could do some work, too, he thought to himself.

 

[Dragonson]

OOC: Requesting conversation momentarily moved to PM.

 

[Arcisal]

Ernis turned to the male Remnant on the floor, though he still had doubts about legitimate that claim. Nevertheless, he kept himself cool.

"This is Gaseir. Former friend and mentor." At Ernis' introduction, Gaseir gave a flamboyant bow, fit for the jesters of high courts, as if the entire world were his audience. "We are ithuri and I am presuming we are standing in a local apothecary, the place magi go to for reagents and whatnot. I myself am particularly confused."

Ernis handed him the pitcher of lemon water. "Here. To soothe the burning." Turning back to Gaseir he spoke once more. "Explain."

 

[Phoonix]

Dara watched as Imyas left and turned into one of the many streets again.
He walked around, browsed shops until he arrived at his destination.

The biggest dealer of real estate in the city.
The building was clearly owned by Tahjians, the windows and doors framed in oriental colored markings. many exotic pasterns decorating the walls, no expense was spared in decorating this building, typically Tahjian.

He entered the shop and politely waited until the customers before him were done.

 

[Wolfe]

Gaseir smiled. "A new concoction. When I saw what was going on, I knew I had to get you out Ernis. So I threw the potion down and it produced a cloud that knocked you both out. I dragged you, then I heard something shatter and felt my vitali react. It was almost like they were growling, like hounds. And here we are, quite the accomplishment for an old ithuri! I did, however, produce quite a show if I say so myself."

------

The inn was warm. Not due to a fire or anything, just by the presence of many people. It was odd seeing so many humans in one spot, drinking, arm-wrestling, gossiping, eating. In a city so diverse, a treasure like The Dragon's Breath was rare.

Sitting on an old couch beside a dead fireplace was a woman. Her hair was rough and bronze and her figure curvy. She drank from a half-empty mug and stared into the abyss. She was somewhat distant to the rest of the inn - cold.

A golden-haired maiden approached Azshiir with a warm smile. She was busty and beautiful, adorn in a green and brown dress. "Welcome, may I help you today?"

------

A dark-skinned bear of a man grinned as he saw his kindred. He was wrapped in a thin fabric of gold and red with exposed forearms covered in dark hair. He was bald, with a missing canine and one eye brown and the other grey. "Ashvak iq-rin, brother! Welcome!" He motioned for Dara to sit. It was a purple pillow behind a piece of wood covered by Tahijan tapestry.

 

[Arcisal]

OOC: This thread is on fire.

 

[Phoonix]

OOC: continue RP in private.

 

[Wolfe]

OOC: Drag >< DM, private RP. Pho >< DM, private RP. In certain moments of time, especially ones you may not want to reveal yet, feel free to say so in this thread and we'll organise a place to do it. For Pho and Drag, it's Skype.

 

[Fussiler1]

Azshiir took the smell of ale and food in him with a grin as he entered. Truly, inns like these were hard to find and truly, he was happy he had found one in this god-forsaken city! The smell made him watermouth and he just wanted to eat, to drink and to laugh. This place was truly glorious, he thought as he took another step in and looked around. Lots of good folk in here.

He was a bit surprised when he heard a female voice speak to him, as he had mainly been focusing on the inn itself. When he turned his gaze to meet hers - the waitress, he assumed. Maybe something more than that, but that he did not know - he was momentarily stunned. This was not something you would expect from a bar maiden. No, usually they were either pretty faces with some horrible maimement, or old hags, not fair maidens like this one.

He was momentarily at a loss of words, before finally speaking after somewhat of an awkward moment; ''I'd like a small table, please.'' he asked, politely, his voice sugar-coated. Blagh, he was quite the sucker for good looks, he realized disapproving. Though, he could forgive himself for that now. ''Do you have a place near a fire?'' he once more asked. ''Oh, and could you also bring me a mug of ale?'' he quickly added.

After he had spoken, he quickly looked around once more. The tables near the fires were often very busy, the couches too. He frowned as he came across a dead fireplace with a lone woman, avoided by the whole inn. What the hell, he asked himself. Why would she sit all alone there? Ah, women, he thought to himself, resisting the urge to shake his head.

 

[Wolfe]

The maiden couldn't help but giggle at his awkwardness. It was a nice shift from being degraded and touched in sacred places. She led him to a table where another bar wench, a raven-haired beauty of Remnant descent, placed a mug of frothy brown ale on his table. The ale smelt different, a mix of hops with spice. It was nothing the travelling wildman had ever encountered before. The table was next to the dead fire. He was the receiver of smiles and glances.

The wildman woman finally broke her seemingly eternal gaze. She looked around to see if anyone was watching, and with a flicker of her hand, the dead fire roared to life. She smiled and sunk back into the couch.

 

[Fussiler1]

Azshiir had been staring at the buttocks of the maiden as she had left, but had quickly diverted his look as another waitress came and put down a mug of ale. A bit worried that she had seen at what he had been looking at, he had just resigned to quietly drinking. As time progressed, he had noticed that he was the centre of attention. He felt himself getting red. Damn headgear, he grumbled as he quickly put his antler off. That always got him stares.. and well, his leaf-decorated shirt, but he couldn't take that off. So he took the antler off, because stares in a bloody inn wasn't something that he wanted, did he?

After he had resigned to drinking, he just looked around while his tongue coped with the strange spices. The ale tasted well, but.. damn, if you had it too long in your mouth, it started burning somewhat. Ale that burned your mouth. A strange city, he thought to himself, shaking his head silently. And as he did so, he once more noticed the woman who sat alone, with a frown. Nobody would sit next to a dead fireplace. Then she started looking around and he almost spit his ale out as he noticed she was of the Wildmen! How hadn't he recognized that before?

It wasn't until the fireplace suddenly lit up that his eyes widened to their maximum extent. Another Wildmen shaman? Gods, what were the odds? Indeed, what were the odds, he thought, his jovial face turning dark, somewhat. Why was she here? Questions raced through his mind and after a while he had to tell himself to stop being paranoid. He got up, grabbed his mug and then walked to the once-dead fireplace, five steps or so from his table. He sat down and stretched his arms a bit, sitting next to the woman and staring at the fire.
''That was fairly risky..'' he muttered, loud enough that she could hear it but not others.

 

[Wolfe]

The woman scoffed. "They treat us like we're the bearer of a plague, brother. Let them see and let them come." She sat, back turned to her new visitor. It was not common for Wildmen to call each other brother or sister regardless of their families or their clans. The Wildmen did not hate each other, nor did they wage war, their lives were a game of survival not battle.

OOC: Bed time for me guys, night!

 

[Phoonix]

Dara left the shop and turned towards high town. He would take a walk trough the park on his way home and then he would prepare for the meeting.

 

[Fussiler1]

OOC: Good night.

He frowned and looked at her. He hadn't been called brother for a long time. How long was it ago? The years went by so fast, he thought in a moment of nostalgia, though he quickly shook it off and looked at her again, this time with a question in his eyes; ''Sometimes.. sister.'' he said. The word sister was an unfamiliar one and it didn't feel wholly right. He almost refrained from saying it, but at the last moment he went through with it. ''So, how come you're in this damn city?'' he asked, before he took another sip from his mug, the ale starting to taste better and better as he drank more of it. Was it the result of all those spices?

 

[Arcisal]

Confusion dazed Ernis for a moment. "Potions that make people disappear? You've always been fiddling with the laws of alchemy too far Gaseir." He turned around and tried to absorb everything around him. It was too fast. Whenever Ernis tried to recall what had happened, it was all a blur. Hisses and screams. Explosions. He remembered tripping and losing most of his items. The shackles that appeared out of nowhere. And then...this.

"Why did you leave?" It sounded more like a soft plea to Gaseir. Answers. They were what he needed to survive right now.

 

[Wolfe]

The woman turned to face him, her eyes grey and dull like a dreary rainy day. Her face was pale and covered with dirt-coloured tattoos resembling stag horns. Her cracked lips curved into a smile. "Why am I here?" Her gaze, once serene, became filled with what seemed to be a thousand sorrows. "How long has it been since you've been Home, brother?" Her head fell to the floor before she began staring at the flames again. She was clearly in pain, something had triggered dark memories.

------

Gaseir's devilish smile became a frown, his brow straightened. "I know, child. You want answers, but alas answers would only bring more questions. For now, I require you and your vamphiir friend here for some business." He smiled again, picking up a small vial filled with a bubbling black ooze.

 

[sanofa]

Zenon slowly sipped the lemon water, and the burning in his throat gradually disappear. "Ah... Now that cured the damn burn. Think I'll introduce myself. Name's Zenon, nice to meet you, Ithurians." Zenon said, and let out a hand, signalling a handshake.

 

[Fussiler1]

Aszhiir froze as she asked that question. Gods, he thought, reaching silently out for a piece of oak. Just in case, he thought, but a grim look had appeared on his face. ''Few years.'' he said relaxed, though in his voice one could hear a hint of insecurity and caution and his face didn't match his voice. How great were the odds he would find someone else of his kin, a shaman nonetheless, in this forsaken city? He looked at her again. Was he sure he hadn't seen her before? He digged deep, but he couldn't find anything. Maybe he was just being paranoid.

As he looked aside, he had also frowned. She seemed to be a bit in pain, though he couldn't quite identify what it was. Had she also had a bad day? He had never been good at reading people, he thought to himself as he reached out and threw another log on the fire. More than a few had told him that, he remembered.
''Are you alright?'' he said after that, with still a big frown on his face.

 

[Wolfe]

The woman turned back to Azshiir, her expression as cold as a winter’s morn. This man was a lone wolf, a man who chose to brave the challenges of life by himself. It made sense that he knew nothing of Home. Still, it disgusted her. The wildmen were bound by blood; divided kin with loyalty to the wilds and loyalty to the clans. She stood up, ignoring his question. She motioned for Azshiir to follow her through the sea of boisterous humans. Her stocky form lumbered past them, exchanging rude glances to some of the rowdier guests objecting her abrupt pushing. She seemed to scare them. But who wouldn’t fear her? She was a ferocious looking woman, with built arms and a bear-skin cloak falling to her waist. Her ears were pierced with what appeared to be claws from some kind of animal. She herself appeared to look beastly, with her vicious stormy eyes and wide nostrils.

She arrived at a staircase and continued forward, knowing that Azshiir was behind her. “I am Kvilde of Clan Ungar,” she stated in a tone which invited Azshiir to state his name.

 

[Fussiler1]

He had put on his antler before he had stood up and followed her, walking through a clear path in a crowd. You didn't have that very often, he thought to himself. And even though she seemed to dislike him, or so he thought, he still followed her. At least he got that part right, he muttered as he finally arrived at the staircase. Why would she want to go upstairs? He didn't quite trust it, but earlier he had been proven to be paranoid. She was just a kinsman, he thought to himself. He froze momentarily after she asked his name.

Should he give her his name? He still didn't fully trust her.. but still, if she had wanted to do something already, she would've done it. Upstairs wasn't the best place to get rid of him, in any case, he thought to himself. He would give her his name. It was fairly obscure anyway, though he wasn't quite sure what to say of his clan.
''Azshiir, of no Clan.'' he told her as he followed her upstairs.
He quickly spoke once more, to prevent confusion; ''My father lived solitary and never told me from which clan he was part of.''

 

[Wolfe]

"A clan's bastard then?" She said rather brashly. She came to a door next to the staircase and withdrew a key, unlocking the door and welcoming Azshiir in. The room was rather plan - a mangy circular rug, an old dresser and a large bed occupied by a slumbering old man. He was quite big, despite being under the covers. His face was decorated with similar tattoos, interrupted by years-old gashes on his cheeks and one fresh cut on his upper lip.

"This is my father, Iregir. We are the last of Clan Ungar," she revealed. Her voice was low, almost a whisper. She was pained to say that final statement.

 

[Fussiler1]

He had been about to respond to her brash comment, until he entered the room and looked around. It was nothing special, but his gaze lingered at the old man on the bed, with a frown above his eyes. He stept closer, to examine him better. The man reminded him of his father, a bit, he realized. The old man explained why the woman had been so cold. Still, this woman puzzled him in more ways than one, he thought to himself, resisting the urge to sigh.
''I'm sorry..'' he whispered, and after a few moments of utter silence he continued;
''Why have you brought him into this city?'' he asked softly, careful not to wake the old man.

 

[Wolfe]

"He's proof," she said. "Two years ago, when the Fey Folk decided to lift the spell over their lands, they became increasingly aggressive. It was winter, so naturally we were low on food, but the Folk have no thought for an honourable kill. It started with their typical games, stealing weapons and being pests. Then they started stealing food," she said in pain. "Then they began a new game. One where blood and death wasn't enough for them." She took a seat at the bed, gazing down at her battered father.

She continued, her gaze meeting Azshiir's. "We became the hunted. We once ruled the woodlands and the hills, but what can you do when nature itself has a grudge against you?" She paused, holding back tears.

 

[Arcisal]

He clasped the vamphiir's hand, although with some hesitation which he managed to hide relatively well. "Ernis." He felt uncomfortable introducing himself to a vamphiir.

"Answers first. Who were those mages we stumbled on? And how did you find me? Only two and then business." He gave a slight grin to his old mentor. "And after that more questions."

 

[Fussiler1]

Azshiir stared at the old man, without motion. He felt the blood that was pumped throughout his body chill. He turned his gaze away from the man, the living proof of what the woman had told and met hers. She was no longer the seemingly bestial woman of before, no, that had all vanished in a few seconds, it seemed. A few minutes earlier he could never have imagined her like this, he thought to himself with a great frown. Gods. Fey, Fey.. damn them, damn them to eternity, he thought. He spit out another seemingly ten thousand curses, in his head. Cowards, monsters, liars, killers, idiots, and more. He held in those few moments seemingly endless tirades in his head, never-ending. And he felt anger again, having replaced the shock of earlier. He felt an anger that hadn't ever been matched in his life. Not even the rage over the dead child had surpassed this, no, for while that was sad, this was truly personal. He swore silently to himself, in a moment of irrationality, immense anger and rage, that he would slay every Fey he would encounter, swearing a heavy oath. ...I swear it by the trees, by the hills..

It was only after a few moments that he opened his mouth to speak. His mouth was open, but no words came out of it. He didn't know what to exactly say, what to tell her. How could he tell her, anyway? Occasionally he said a few words before he stopped talking again, mid-sentence. He stopped for a while, only staring at her, occasionally looking at her father.
''I.. I don't.. I don't think anybody here would concern themselves with the affairs of the Wildmen.'' he finally said, stammering in the begin but finally speaking clear, steeling himself as he progressed further and further down the sentence. She had proof, but why would anybody aid her? Had she even come to seek the aid of the people who ruled this city?

 

[Wolfe]

She nodded her head, but added: "I have not come here to see rivers run red, I have come here to see wings protect our people. We are few enough, we cannot die out. This city is the closest refuge we have, regardless of those little skirted pixie girls being here." She paused, placing her hand into her father's. "I have heard that Karina Greythorn knows the pain of losing her people. She will understand."

------

"Which mages? From the Bank? Ernis, you should know very well! The men in white skirts were wizards, part of The Wizard Council. The rest were warlocks, very naughty creatures. They're part of The Black Court. Their little war has been raging for years but this is the first time they've brought it into the public." He paused, shaking the vial gently and watching the ooze slip and slide. He smiled, a fire in his eyes fuelled by a bank of ideas in his head. "It isn't that hard to find an awkward blue ithuri, even in a city like this."

 

[Fussiler1]

Was that so? He hadnt heard much about the Greythorn lady, except for a few snippets, mainly because he had never listened, but even if it were true, would she welcome Wildmen into this city? She might know how it feels, but Wildmen weren't very respected, or at least, he wasn't. To accept them into your city wouldn't earn you the gratitude of many people.. Still, it was a better request than what he had in mind.

He nodded after she spoke and leaned against the wall. Why had the Fey done this, he asked himself? They were the kind of people to play games, but he hadn't heard of anything in this capacity. Why, why, why? Just for fun? Agh, while the Fey had such a reputation, he had a hard time believing it, now that his anger had subsided somewhat. Gods. There had been some hostility between his kin and the Fey, even deaths, but nothing on this scale, he thought. What prompted such a reaction? Blasted thieves and cowards, he grumbled very softly to himself. Indeed, blasted thieves and cowards, that's what they were.

''So.. when will you meet her?'' he asked.

 

[Arcisal]

Ernis wasn't satisfied, but satisfaction didn't come to him often, so it would have to simple be. "Fine then. So be it. Now, name your business." He hinted with his eyes on the small vial Gaseir held in his hands. It somehow looked familiar, but he couldn't exactly place how. The black bubbling made Ernis feel slightly nauseous but excited at the same time. Never before had he seen such a concoction, or anything even close to it! Perhaps it were dangerous, able to inflict terrible wounds or marks upon those unfortunate to bear it on their skin. Maybe it was something new, like in the old days when Gaseir would present Ernis a new tonic he would learn for the week.

Ernis realized he was staring for a moment and then snapped back his eyes to Gaseir, awaiting a reply.

 

[Wolfe]

"Tonight," she said, standing up. "The grand something as they call her's meeting with this 'ministry'. She's agreed to an audience in front of 'em all." She thought for a moment, and smiled. "Would ye come? I can't carry this old lump by myself." She said, looking at her father.

------

Gaseir was still smiling, a pale comparison to the darkness around him. "A friend of mine is expecting his next prodigy. A rather affluent fellow, a man of our race. I must introduce you to him. With your friend of course, we'll need a..." he paused to look over the vamphiir. "Bodyguard."

 

[Fussiler1]

''Pfffft. Very well.'' he said, rolling his eyes, though with a grin on his face. Though he wasn't sure if he wanted to be seen in a meeting with some kind of ministry after today's incident, he still wanted to see how this ended. Besides, it would be rude to refuse and it's not like anybody would recognize him anyway, or so he thought.

 

[sanofa]

Gaseir was looking at Zenon, announcing the word "Bodyguard", and immediately he recognized that he was looking at his blades. "Sure, why not. I'm homeless anyways. Just give me the call, and I'll be ready." Zenon said, a smile on his face.

 

[Arcisal]

"Bodyguard?"

Worry struck Ernis for a moment. The need for bodyguards meant violence, and while Ernis was capable of defending himself, with his alchemy of course, he was generally a pacifist. He frowned at the idea and thought for a moment. He didn't like the idea, neither did he like how different his old friend had changed. But deals were deals.

"Alright then. You know I may not like this, but my end will be kept, so long as you keep yours."

 

[Wolfe]

"Of course, of course!" He shouted, clearly happy at Ernis and Zenon's decision to help him. He came to comfort Ernis, placing his hand on Ernis' shoulder. "This is a bad city. A very bad city. A vamphiir body guard will scare off what watches you from the dark." He looked at the vamphiir. "Well then, get yourselves ready, we have a special event to attend!" This put Ernis on the spot, of course. This 'friend' wanted a prodigy. Ernis had to impress.

------

Kvilde smiled. "Very well, we'll leave as soon as light begins to fade."

OOC: We'll pause here for a bit, and proceed straight to the meeting, as you'll all be ready for it. So, yeah... crappy DM timeskip incoming.

 

[Wolfe]

It was the evening and Kaydeir was a city that never slept. Silence was a distant concept for those who resided within the City of Splendour. Hightown was no exception. In the upper echelons of the city, the rich and powerful congregated in the various parlours and restaurants that littered The Lane of Lovers. Lights were ablaze, illuminating the sea of nightly beauty and revealing the various denizens that gathered in the wide, cobbled streets. Older women in sophisticated gowns traipsed about the streets, arms locked with suitors young enough to be their sons. Couples wandered from shopfront to shopfront, some of the more exorbitant women dragging their husbands or partners inside and returning with a dazzling new golden necklace or a beautiful gem-encrusted ring. One could almost feel sorry for these men, others could envy them.

On the highest point of Hightown was the Ministry Halls. This structure screamed wealth, power and arrogance; the epitome of what Hightown stands for. Built with granite, the building is led to by an impressive set of steps; four round columns then guide visitors to a set of locked oak doors. Above these doors in the ithuri language was; ‘May power rest in eternity; and eternity rest with the powerful’ – an ithuri proverb, one that baffles most with its rhetoric. Of course, the ithuri put it here for that purpose. To demean the other races and make themselves look superior. Outside the building were two magewatchers – a very large man, covered head-to-toe in armour with a greatsword that seemed to glisten despite the encroaching darkness; the other was a very petit faerie with glittery dragonfly wings and a steel rod half her size.

At the base of the stairs, the ministers waited. They were all ithuri and human of varying ages, sizes and apparel. In the crowd, Dara awaited to be summoned. He had been told to sit closest to where Imyas was presiding. However, Imyas and three other key members of the Ministry were absent. Gaseir was approaching, Zenon and Ernis in toe.

“Remember you two; we’re dealing with the richies here. They’ve got more money than you’ve got talent,” he said, glancing back at Ernis. As usual, he was smiling. One often had to wonder what darkness lied behind his happiness for ithuri rarely smiled.

Not far behind, practically climbing The Lane of Lovers was Kvilde and Azshiir. They were dragging a rickety old wagon containing Iregar under a layer of blankets. Despite the ordeal, the bumpiness of the cobblestones and the constant profanities from both Azshiir and Kvilde, he was still a slumbering giant.

Each had their business here tonight. But in the meantime, under the cover of the night, these unknowing souls were blinded to the emerald eyes that watched them all.

OOC: Lalalala double post. Suck it Zero Tolerance.

 

[Dragonson]

On a bench, not far from the Ministry Halls, a man sat with a book.
A cowl covered his head, and upon closer inspection a steel mask covered his face.
He appeared to be reading the book. But then again, despite the cloak and mask he also appeared quite peacfull.

 

[Fussiler1]

OOC: lol

''Oof..'' he groaned as he almost tripped over a small rock, and thus almost made the wagon fall to the ground. For fuck's sake, he thought to himself as he quickly regained his balance, though with much effort. He had been pulling this immense giant for.. what, two hours or so? He had lost track of time, because transporting this man was immensily tiring. What old man was this heavy, he thought to himself, rueing the moment he began helping with pulling the wagon for this man. He was strong among these people, and had also considered himself to be strong, but bloody hell, this man was so heavy it was almost go at a speed above the level of a snail with this wagon! He had kept pulling and his companion didn't fare much better, he noticed.

Still, as he had been dragging the cart forward, he had looked around very much. This district was beautiful, he thought to himself, yet these thoughts were always interrupted by curses so vile even a veteran would jump away in shock. He had never actually been in the upper districts of.. well, any city, and he was genuinely surprised. Such craftsmanship was not easy to be found and he liked it here, even though the smell of food from the fancy restaurants tormented him as he dragged the old cart forward.

They were almost there, almost there, almost there, he kept telling himself with every step forward, but he couldn't go on for much longer. He felt extremely tired and honestly, he couldn't even remember how they got him out of his room. And he was very curious how she got him into his room. Damn, the man barely fit through the door! That part he did recall. As further as they had progressed, the more stares they had gotten for their strange clothes and well, the fact that they were dragging a wagon that contained a giant. Sometimes he would grin maliciously to one of the highborn ladies that stared at him and they would scream in terror before running away, their husbands running after them. Hah, it was great sport, but still, they were outsiders here, exotic beings from far-away places. He had realized that a long time ago, but now it was more clear than ever.

''Almost there..'' he puffed as he saw the Ministry, his eyes lighting up with joy and amazement as he looked upon the grand structure and the crowd. But with every step closer, he felt the fear again that somebody would recognize him. He was, after all, one of the two Wildmen in this city, it seemed.

 

[Wolfe]

Within minutes, the two magewatchers opened the doors. The ministers hurried in, and the large magewatcher, noticing Kvilde and Azshiir's predicament, hurried to help.

"Bit far from home, ain't ya's?" the magewatcher said, his voice rough and stern. This man was of the Wildman Clans.

------

As Dara walked in, he was greeted by Imyas. Imyas had changed, sporting a full purple robe with a grey mantle. "Ah, you made it! No trouble I'm hoping? Those magewatchers can get quite protective."

"Minister Imyas, hello!" called Gaseir, arriving with Zenon and Ernis. "This is Ernis, the apprentice I spoke to you about." Gaseir and Imyas exchanged glances. Unspoken words were uttered when their gazes met.

Imyas looked Ernis down, disgusted. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Ernis. Your mentor speaks very highly of you. Oh, this is Dara Ardeshir."