[Real RP!] - Have Party, Will Travel

[ElvenAngel]

YES This is the official, trademarked and patent pending RP! It's been a long time coming but we're hoping to give you the best RP! I shall take this opportunity to remind you of the general info and rules of this RP:

INFORMATION AND ANNOUNCEMENTS: here. Includes all latest updates and bios of all the participating characters. Don't forget to drop in and check.

RULES:

1. God-Modding is severely discouraged. Bear in mind that any character deemed way too powerful and dominating for everyone's taste will be subjected to the rule of...

2. Inverse Power Karma: For the sake or lulz, we will be employing an Inverse Power Karma law that states: The more powerful you are as a character, the more often lulzy bad things will happen to you. These things may be brief or long-term, and often will result in running gags. We ask players to adhere to and cooperate with this for the sake of Rule of Funny. The tl;dr is that if you are a powerful character, you WILL be a recurring butt-monkey more often than less powerful characters; this is not for the sake of bullying but for the sake of laughs and fun.

3. NO POWER-PLAYING. We'll allow players to have minimal control over the consequences of their actions and players are in fact the ones who will be driving the story in large. However, don't abuse this kind of thing by ending battles prematurely, getting characters away from where we want you to be and etc.

4. THIS RP IS PAST TENSE. In other words, we RP by writing in past tense, using 'did' instead of 'do' or 'doing'. Please try to adhere to this and not slip into present tense because it gets insanely confusing.

5. Please remember there's a lot of people in this RP! If someone hasn't posted for a while, restrain yourselves and don't post until they either catch up or declare their departure!

6. Please try to use easily read fonts! Try to keep em over 2 in size and avoid colors that blend too closely with the black background. I know this might be cribbing on people's styles and the like but trying to read massive walls of text in miniscule, curvy, dark text is PAINFUL for some people. Please respect those with eyesight problems D:

7. This RP is meant to be comedic and include some screwball moments. Though it is set in a high-fantasy medieval/renaissance world, you can still include modern little details like a character wearing a pair of shoes suspiciously like All-Stars, sporting jeans or carrying a modern-looking umbrella. You are encouraged to not specifically mention these items with modern brand names, and if they are powered by anything come up with different ways that they work--i.e an iPod is not an electronic device but rather a stone that contains music that you listen to whenever you want and must power it with magic. GMs have the right to politely tell you when you're taking this too far. But remember...RULE OF FUNNY.

8. Please feel free to think up random places that your character may hail from or has been to in their travels or that you'd like the team to visit. PM me with some details about these locales and what they're like, and I'll be more than happy to weave them into Angria's other territories.

8. I also welcome contributions for beasts, perils, locations, npcs, services and other details for Angria.

Rules aside, this is now the beginning. The first post here will be a setting-determination, letting you all know how things are in the respective locations you're starting in. I've tried to take everyone's starting point into account. But I would like to request that you all make an effort to head towards Morris. You don't need to rush there, just make a route there.

My out of character announcements, comments and requests or instructions will be relayed like this: (( ---- ))

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Location: Threepwood

The bustling town of Threepwood, sitting on a fertile bluff just a stone's throw from the shoreline, caressed by sea winds and battered by storms every other day. The architecture style of the city is unique, including many spiraling towers proudly erected among humbler homes and shops. Many large manors belong to prominent mages and merchants of magical goods, displaying the wealth and prominence of their position. The houses of the major mage guilds tower over the city, barely rivaled in opulence and taste. The spirals of the Stormchasers Guild, always crackling with lightning and glowing with dew dominate the Marketplace; the beautiful, glittering glass dome of the Guild of Veiled Mirages, entwined with exotic flowers is the jewel if the Hill District; and the tallest towers in Threepwood, built of glittering marble, belong to the Guild of Amber Smoke and stand at the very end of Rue d'Enlise, the largest and most prominent street of Threepwood.

Half a dozen other, smaller guilds also populate the city, each with its own base and members. It's a popular place and even more popular holiday destination for mages of all kinds, with a flourishing trade in magical goods. In all of Boletaria, it's probably the best place to be if you're a mage. There are countless services and dedicated stores carrying magical goods from all over Angria.

Many of the citizens are mages themselves so the town has a very strong magical atmosphere. It's a peaceful place with little trouble from raids of orcs or bandits--few are crazy enough to set foot in a city full of people that could turn you into a toad for laughs. It's not entirely peaceful though, occasionally suffering from the aftermaths of some mage's failed experiment.

I mean...the town's only just recovering from last week's stampede of purple-and-pink unicorn cats caused by Sir Ilethius de Pompadour's latest experiment on transmogrification of species... The Marketplace took the brunt of it but survived in good shape, with no damage a little magic wouldn't fix.

The most famous inn of Threepwood, the Broken Wand, was packed as usual in the high noon of the day, bustling with lively music produced by the magimatronic little orchestra, the owner's own pride and joy. Drinks and light meals were served about amply by friendly serving wenches and nimble waiters. A few patrons, new to town, were admiring the 'fame wall' of the inn, with pictures and portraits of famous mages and personages that had visited the Broken Wand--including the young king of Boletaria himself, King Hamlet II Von Hoffen.

The square outside was also bustling with life, citizens conducting their daily shopping, and tourists pootling around on rental magic carriages or floating carriers, admiring the town's sights and sampling wares. And of course, the entire town buzzed with the latest news: An emissary with an entourage had arrived just last night from the Duchy of Morris to the West. Rumor had it that such emissaries had been dispatched all over Boletaria with an important announcement.

And true enough, heralds of the emissary were dispatched all over town. One such herald posted himself on the herald's podium in the middle of the Marketplace square right outside of the Broken Wand, while his young pages scattered around to put up elaborate signs with the message on every public board.

"Hear ye, hear ye!" began the herald in a loud booming voice--no doubt with a little magical aid behind it. "Good people of Threepwood! The Duke of Morris, His Royal Majesty's most opulent servant, Sir Morris Mariner, declares the 24th Annual Conference of Magic of Morris now open to citizens of all of Boletaria! His Excellency the Duke, hath overturned 2 centuries of tradition and decided the most prestigious conference now open to members of all of Boletaria's magical community!"

This bit of news interested a lot of people. Morris had for years held a sort of expo of magic that rivaled Threepwood's and yet had never held its doors open for mages outside Threepwood with rare exceptions, specifically invited. Now it seemed that Duke Morris Mariner had changed his mind very suddenly and was openly inviting mages from around Boletaria--and very boldly from Threepwood itself, Morris' rival in magical goods and people.

"The 3-day conference shall include lectures from famous professors of magic and legendary adventurers, including celebrated Lady Agatha la Purcell, Slayer of the Beast of Grumber Bog herself! Purveyors of magical goods from all over Angria will be visiting, bringing exotic goods and materials! Many events have been organized for your pleasure: Menageries with beasts from far and wide! Magical acrobats and performers! Live shows of dexterity and skill! Baudy plays and a troupe of elven magic bards from Andulachia! And finally!" The herald called, drawing himself to his full height. "His Excellency the Duke himself shall address the esteemed visitors in a mass banquet held by the Duke in the Grand Court of Morris for the delight of one and all, and engage in a debate about magic in the future of our beloved Boletaria! Everyone is welcome! Adventurers as well!!"

The bard repeated his message, which stirred interest in the population while his pages passed out flyers and with the message and put them up on public announcement boards. A plucky little page, probably no older than 10, dressed in Morris' green and silver livery got in the Broken Wand, handing out flyers for the Conference to interested patrons of the bar.

"The Morris Annual Magic Conference!" the kid said, straining to be heard over the orchestra and the chatter. "The biggest event of the year! Have a flyer miss, come check out the conference!" he blurted, holding flyers out to interested people.

------

Similar heralds were dispatched all over Boletaria and could be heart touting their message around towns and their flyers could be found as far as the Volven Mountains, inviting people to visit Morris and participate in the festivities.

In Valentia, the capital of Boletaria, the news of the Morris conference being opened to the public was met with surprise and excitement, as many mages and travelers thought it a great opportunity to visit the Duchy and see the conference themselves. The city was reeling back from the weekend of festivities hosted by the palace on account of the King's wedding anniversary and the people were still in a rather festive mood and eager for more.

------
Location: Morris and outskirts.

To the west of the thriving town of Threepwood, the Duchy of Morris and it's expansive capital, Morris Keep, was indeed stirring under the preparations for the Annual Magic Conference, a Morris specialty. The city, bursting from within it's walls, was alive with work and activity. Crews of citizens were taking to the streets to sweep and clean, removing trash and obstructions, other crews were setting up the conferences gathering points to ensure the visitors never got in the way of the city's own activities and businesses; stores were being stocked to the brim in preparation for the people, inns were filling their barrels and ale stocks, mage guilds were preparing their halls to impress and the people were working to make their city look its best.

Castle Morris, the home and base of the Duke and the Duchy's government, was also in a throng of preparations for the visitors. The Grand Court, a massive paved courtyard usually reserved for reveries of the nobles, was being prepared to hold a massive banquet for the people attending.

Nobody was really sure why the Duke had decided to open the Conference to non-Morrisans but most assumed it was an economical move, trying to bring cash into the Duchy. Besides the Conference, the Duke was also entertaining several high profile guests from the mainland of Angria, including Orlov Gelzimowitz, deposed Count of the former County of Ruskha, now a thriving little nation of its own trying to rebuild itself from the ruins of the Count's excessive lifestyle and oppressive politics. A celebrated mage once, the Count had lost much of his power with the loss of his family's crest, a ruby with magical powers.

Rumor had it that Duke Morris had been charged by the King to keep an eye on Orlov during his stay in Boletaria to prevent any further political disasters. It really said something about the king's trust in the Duke of Morris.

This boom in activity was even prevalent in the outskirts of Morris. Any small hamlet or village around the city was being prepared to provide housing for visitors, everyone expecting they'd make fairly good money out of the conference. Posts guiding people to various settlements, inns or the city were being put up by crews.

But not everyone was being cheery and expecting the conference with delight. Under Castle Morris, in the dungeons, the atmosphere was same as always: dreary, dark and very damp. A trio of guards, all dressed in rather grimy and damp versions of the Morris army uniforms, sat at a termite-infested table, playing cards. They'd laid their helmets aside, their halberds only close at hand, and exchanged infrequent curses and swears as they played, between random chatter and silence. Most of the cells were empty except for one sobbing old man in the far end and the cell right behind the three guards.

It was a strange cell, with thicker bars than the others, surrounded on the floor and the ceiling by magic circles traced with charcoal and red chalk. Two candles, both red, burned inside it without seeming to melt. Another circle was traced inside the cell where a man sat lazily, chained to the wall with heavy chains that forced his back to the wall and his arms up and overhead at an angle so that his hands and elbows dangled. His legs were also chained to the floor, always keeping him within the inner circle.

Oddly enough though, the man was humming and after some consideration started singing rather cheerfully if dully.

Tonight...I'm gonna have my~self a real good time
I feel ali~ve and the wo~rld... I'll turn it inside out - yeah
And floating around in ecstasy
So... don't. stop. me. now...don't. stop. me...
'Cause I'm having a good time having a good time--

"OI! What're ye warblin' there?" the fatter of the guards barked lazily and clanged against the cell with his halberd. "It's rubbish! Sing that other one you were sayin' before!"

The man stopped and sighed patiently. "You guys are a tough audience..." he muttered.

"Deal with it," another guard scoffed.

"Look, I've sang that one a dozen times since I've been here. Don't you wanna try something else?" replied the smooth, jaded voice from the cell.

"No! Unless you don't really want yer water."

"Fine, dad..." the voice mumbled and cleared it's throat before starting a different song in a melodic, but clearly bored tone.

Just cast away...and I am lost at sea
Another lonely day and no one here but me~
More~ loneliness than any man could bear
Rescue me before I fall into desp~air

I send an S.O.S. to the world...
I send an S.O.S. to the world
I hope that someone gets my--
I hope that someone gets my--
I hope that someone gets my...
Message in a bottle
Message in a bottle
Message in a bottle...

----

((OOC: This is the set-up everyone! Make what you will of it and get your characters started! We'll make sure that the setting doesn't lag behind your characters as they move about and do stuff. Try to have fun!))

((My eternal thanks to Queen for their sexy "Don't Stop Me Now" and John Mayer for his "Message in A Bottle".))

[Gaige]

Location: Threepwood

A short boy packed his bags. The inn room was small, rather bare and crawling with mildew and dust, the latter clinging to the sheets of the bed, the slightest movement of the material yielding a choking cloud that caused Flick to violently cough.

"I've stayed in better stables," he murmured to himself, pulling one of the bags off the bed. Heavier than he had expected and still a little disoriented from his sleep, Flick overbalanced and fell on his rear with a massive thud, the dust from the pressure on the bed causing another loud, unpleasant hacking fit.

Muttering profanities to himself as he stood up, lugging his bags onto his shoulders, he left the room, walking to the payment area and handing over the money he owed to stay the night, which was more expensive than he would have liked. He couldn't just cut and run though.

Not because of any morality of course.

He just couldn't run to save his life.

As he stepped outside, a brightly colored cat-purple and pink- with a spiral horn dashed past, disappearing into an alleyway. Flick blinked at the sight. What in the world kind of place was this?

Though he still had to pick up his mount, he kind of wanted to explore this new place. After all, large places like this that openly embraced magic were new to him, and he would be wasting his travels if he didn't take a self made tour. The stables were paid to keep Lara for another few hours yet. That was plenty of time.

Hearing the booming voice of a herald, he tentatively followed the voice just in time to hear about some magical conference. And it was open to citizens.

Well. This was his opportunity to prove himself. He wouldn't be staying in those hovels for much longer. This could be the chance he needed to join a guild. After all, people from Threepwood as well as Morris would be there. This was his chance to make a name for himself.

Heading towards the stables to pick up Lara, Flick tripped over the straps of his bag, falling on his side with an "Oomph!" Cursing to himself again, he got to his feet, brushing dust off himself as he looked around for the stables.
___________________________________

Leaning against the walls of Morris with a nonchalant expression on her face, the tall woman whistled to herself, clearly bored. She had heard that this place was one of the centers of Boletarian magic, and yet it was just a boring dump.

Everyone that passed in and out of the city looked at her. The strange facial markings, the tiny horns, the pointed ears. All pointed her out as a part fiend. An outcast. Some simply gazed at her fearfully for a moment. Others with disgust. Others with outright hate.

Not that it particularly bothered Clair. She had gotten used to this long ago. She met the gaze of the occasional judging passerby, and they would quickly look away. She would try to look as terrifying as possible to the rare small child who met her gaze, cause them to burst into tears, and force the concerned parent to usher their spawn away, glaring disgustedly at Clair.

Well now what would she do? She thought she would get some excitement here, but instead she was stuck leaning against a wall, glaring at passerbys. She knew the guards, who probably hated part fiends as much as anyone, would take any excuse to apprehend her. Her kind weren't well received...well, anywhere.

[Squid]

Pomoly Grimsher.
Redwater > Morris

The journey had started out rather normal. A young half-elf, Pomoly, or Pom as she preferred to be called had packed her custom built robotic backpack full of the necessary items for a long trip. Some snacks, a flask of Honey beer, enough money to hire her a nice, slightly less putrid stable than most (for a couple of nights rest along the way), first aid supplies, tools and some spare clothes. Those were the things that would fit in the 'bag' anyway.

The more important things she wore in easy to access locations. She carried a large Hammer on her back, it's name was Humma. She could never be too careful, sure she was travelling with Duke, her pet Dire-wolf and best friend but unfortunately he could not protect her from everything (though he'd like to think he could) and on her hip, being held by a harness around her shoulder and waist, was her pride and joy, her baby - The Mad Scientist - It was a magic amplifier. It could power her pathetic magic skills and turn them useful. Without it she wouldn't stand a chance against almost anyone.

Once packed and ready Pom stepped out side her old ugly shack, turned and faced it and blew it a farewell kiss. She didn't want to leave the old seaside abode. But in order to keep it standing she had to visit the Lord of Valentia and plead with him to spare it. He was planning on building a large navy base on the shores of Redwater.

She then hopped on a small ship and stayed in the cargo area for a small price. It wasn't a comfortable ride, it took about 10 hours for the ship (which was pathetically slow) to finally arrive at the shores before Wispton and Pomoly was just glad to be on land. She was sure she would catch scurvy being out to sea for that long, fortunately scurvy was something that took a lot longer to show itself.


Although her travels had gone smoothly thus far, it wasn't long before she was met with misfortune. Travelling East she bumped into a group of 3 Orcs. They looked scragglier than most, beat up and just uglier...

"Well, well, well. Wat 'ave we 'ere" The taller and uglier of the three said, looking over the girl with a hungry expression. He seemed to be able to speak the common tongue quite well. "Ya lost lil' dwarf?"

Dwarf?? Pom was an Elf NOT a Dwarf! Sure she was tiny but she most definitely was not part Dwarf! Her face flushed red with anger and embarrassment and she opened her mouth to talk. "I...you... uhm we-I... uhm... " She coughed and spluttered against her words, she knew what she wanted to say but it just wouldn't come out... the orcs could speak better than she could.

"Looks like she's a lil' dis...diss...."

"Disabled..." The first orc spoke again correcting his less intelligent companion, his eyes then caught a glimpse of the gun against Pom's hip. "Wazat, then aye?" He said snatching the gun up and holding it within eyesight, bringing Pom with him as it was strapped tightly to her. He examined it and smiled.

The girl kicked and screamed mid-air, Duke started snarling and growling but the three were too big for him to harm.

"D-d-don't touch it!!" She finally splurted out. "Y-you can't have it, it only works with my magic...when I use it!!"

"Well, dere's a magic confe'ence down in Morris... you come wid us, you fix dat magic gun to work wid me, I will go up against Mages and I will beat dem wid magic betta dan theirs!!"

"T-that's not how it wo--" But the Orc was not interested in what Pom had to say. Instead he dropped her to the ground and threatened that if she spoke again he'd eat her bones for supper and that's how Pom found herself in this merry group of 5 on her way to Morris. Much further out of the way than originally planned.

~*~

Charles.
Morris.

"Excuse me??"a startled small-goods salesman said, staring up at a huge figure before him.

"You....job...me?" the Half-Orc said again, his broken English showing clearly as he missed most of the important words in that sentence.

"N-no... You can't work here, no one would buy anything from me if you were serving them!! G-get out of here!!" The short man flicked his wrist at the Orc, sending him on his way, secretly hoping no harm would come to him by doing this.

Charles sighed and turned around, stomping away from the stall he'd been dismissed from. He had travelled to Morris from the Volven Mountains, which had been his lonely home for many years. He'd found a flier outside his door, he couldn't read it but it had some pretty pictures on it, one picture he recognised as Morris. This had given him the idea of travelling to Morris to interact with people, maybe find a job, a body guard perhaps? Protect humans... and maybe even make some friends? But so far his job hunt was failing.

"We ewa kuff buta ra....(No one will hire me...)" the Orc sighed, petting the tiny white rabbits head which was poking from a small pouch on his belt. He had tried every stall in the small market place but so far no one had even given him a chance. He didn't even know how to go about becoming a body guard...Perhaps if he made a sign 'Orc looking for work'... too bad he couldn't write.

He sat himself down on the rim of a small fountain in the middle of the marketplace and thought up what to do next. Small brain ticking over, not really coming up with much of anything.

[Yu Narukami]

Aaron Sohm
Hut outside of Red Water

Aaron walk's outside the hut and looks back at his tutor

Aaron:We'll thank you for everything,I'll be sure to come back and visit you when I can.

Aaron's Tutor: Don't bother unless you make some friend's,Hohohoho...

The Old man begin's to cough his age catching up with him,Aaron nod's and grab's the Dragon bone flute around his neck,he blow's into it a melodic tune travel's across the air,after a few minutes a load roar rings through the air second's later a small red dragon land's by Aaron's Side.

Aaron:Well Sirocco,we'll be heading out together I wont be able to have you come near town's since people normally kill dragon's before wondering if they are friendly or not.. Your only to come if I blow into this flute ok..?

The Dragon tilt's it's head like it understand's and flies off,Aaron tosses his sword on his back and start's walking toward's Red Water to get his first Mission as a Mercenary

((OOC:Short post but a decent opening for now =o))

[Cyberdelius]

Tali awoke with her back hurting. It was the no good inn she was at. Sure, she had no choice but to go the cheap route at the moment, but that was no excuse for having to sleep on the worst bed in worldly existence. There were springs that poked through the mattress, and she was sure she slept on at least three of them, and her back hated her for it. It was at times like those she honestly felt like sleeping in the stables with Berhu. At least he was big and soft, and Tali was so light that he would never even know she was sleeping on him.

In fact, there were times she would jump on the back of Berhu and she would swear he didn’t notice her get on. Being so light, he probably just disregarded her as some insect. At the present, though, she was low on funds because Berhu needed to eat. If it had been any other mount in the world, it would have starved so that Tali may sleep a restful night. Of course, it wasn’t as if The Broken Wand was a bad inn… it just had bad rooms available for people that couldn’t afford a good room. And Tali often found herself being in that category.

Getting out of her bed, she grabbed her staff, Spellweaver. Besides Berhu, it was the only other thing in the world she cared about. Next to her staff, she grabbed a small pouch that she fit around her waist. In it was the rest of her money… so it was mostly empty. Other than that, she didn’t carry much. Odds are, she would put a drink and something small to eat in it later. But as for now, it served its purpose as holding the money that she didn’t have.

There was a mirror on the wall next to her, and she looked at her reflection in it. Her long black hair was a mess… as per usual, and her lack of sleep showed. But other than that, she was fine. Opening the door, which, in all reality wasn’t much of one as you could just push it open, she started to head down stairs. She could hear the creaking under her feet as she walked down them. It was almost as if they were going to fall beneath her at any given moment.

However, that would be an occasion saved for a much heavier person. As she entered the lobby, she noticed a couple of rather ugly looking humans sitting in the corner. The innkeeper was behind the counter cleaning glasses. “Aye, Tali, ‘ow did ye’ sleep?”, he asked. He already knew the answer to that question, but Tali never passed up an opportunity to complain. “I slept as well as a man that knows he will be hanged the next morning.” Which was to say… not at all.

“Well, laddie… if yeh would just put down more than a few coppah, ye could be gettin’ a much betta room,” he said. Tali couldn’t help but attempt to place his accent every time he spoke… but she never succeeded. “Well, if your rooms were not priced so high I would gladly purchase one. However, as it stands, I do not wish to lose an arm and a leg just for a night of good sleep.” She smiled; it was oddly fun exchanging words back and forth like this. “But I am a frequent customer… could you perhaps lower the price… for me… please?”

Of course, she already knew the answer to that, but it never hurt to try. “Ye be knowin’ me policy now,” he replied, pointing at a sign he kept hung from the wall. The sign, in big bold letters simply said: “No discounts, not even for me own mother, not even if ye be dyin’.”

“Of course… how about a drink then, to go.” The innkeeper pulled out a little potion glass and filled it up with “the usual” bright blue liquid and handed it to her. Tali put down three more coppers on his counter and took it. “Well, I will be off now. Have fun robbing more tourists blind.” Just before she walked out of the door, the innkeeper responded, “Aye, an ‘ave fun tryin’ to earn that money you ain’t gonna make.”

Cheeky bastard, Tali thought to herself. Walking out of the inn, she went for the stables. There was some talk about a magical… something or another in Morris. Perhaps she should go there… could be some money involved…

[Dragon Mage]

Location: Morris Capital

Raz, renowned mercenary and an intended royal bodyguard, was having an argument with her cat that morning.

Apparently he did not like the tuna she had so graciously carved up for him that morning, which was expensive to get this time of year anyways. She had delicately sliced it up for him, put it in his bowl that had his name on it (acquired at an exorbitant cost) and set it down right under his pumpkin nose.

Havoc -- an impressively large tuxedo cat -- delicately sniffed the tuna then sat up and looked at her expectantly, whiskers twitching.

Raz glared at her cat. "Well what's wrong with it?"

Havoc blinked his green-gold eyes at her lazily.

"You've eaten it every day the past week, don't give me that shit. Eat."

He meowed softly.

"Don't give me that innocent look, you either eat or go to bed." Raz glanced outside at the large magically-operated clocktower. Just a little past nine. "Now I'm late because of you." Sighing, she hurriedly pulled on some light armor that she was never without these days. Inscribed with runes of protection and strength, it provided her modest protection against magic and usual wear-and-tear. Not that she ever really relied that much on her armor -- she depended more upon her own speed and skill to keep her out of harm.

As she buckled on the leather armor and her sword, Thirst, her thoughts wandered. Jazz would be expecting her at his place by now. Had some new instrument he wanted to show her. As a musician and instrument crafter, he was about as different as one could get from Raz. The fact they'd been seeing each other for the past three years seemed to say a lot about opposites and the attractions therein, however.

Havoc gently patted his tuna with his paw and snatched it away quickly.

Raz grabbed her money pouch and -- after impulsively checking to make sure her necklace was still there (a gift from Jazz) -- she headed for the door to her modest home. "I'm going out for a while babe," she called. Havoc padded after her, escorting her to the door. "You better have cleaned that plate before I'm home, little man."

Havoc sat down and stared up at her.

Raz smiled grudgingly and bent over to give him a kiss on his head. "Don't stay up for me, lovebug," she said as she left the house, locking it behind her.

Striding down the street, whistling a tune to herself, she ignored the strange looks cast her way. At 6' 3", she towered above most of the pedestrians, and the black-sclera/red-iris of her eyes didn't help matters much. Oh well. She was used it. People ought to recognize an inadvertent side-effect of a spell by now, but what could you do about it, right?

The streets were crowed, extra squads of guards stiffly striding down the street, all in preparation for the big magical meet coming to town today. Booths and merchants bustled about, setting up stalls and ordering apprentices. Some were even starting to haggle over their wares and she lengthened her stride.

She wanted to get to Jazz quickly. She had no new jobs recently -- not with this gang of plumed-helmet mooks slithering everywhere. A horsefly probably had to have papers to get into the city today. Even so, that didn't stop Raz from taking her hand crossbow and her sword with her. Wherever mages came in large numbers, trouble was sure to follow, and just as legion in size.

[Sexy Beast]

Location: En route to Morris

It was a lovely day in Angria. There was a light breeze in the air, clouds hovered the sky in slow fashion, and the sun was shining so bright that someone could get a perfect tan just laying out. Yes, it is indeed a nice day for travels. And Cerden along with his trusty companion, Gary, couldn’t agree more. Their travels all over Angria has sent them from their homeland of Esk to the rough waters of Orka Sea, to the wonders of Flushlocke. And along their travels, there came a quest deemed by a traveling salesman who actually sparked Cerden’s interest. Now to clear things up, Cerden usually wants to enjoy his travels with Gary, but this salesman was persistant…even when the two of them left Flushlocke.

Let me tell you now, Cerden really wanted to fly off into the sky, and just get rid of this guy, but something about his persistence really interested Cerden, so that is why he chose to hear him out, and what are the odds that this Salesman was going to Morris, and present some prized jewel to King Hamlet himself. This salesman never revealed his name, but he kept on emphasizing that this jewel was a one of a kind, and that it was first-in-priority to deliver it to the Young king. However, this sales man couldn’t get it done due to family issues. So, now due to unlikely timing on Cerden’s part, he now ventures onto Morris in hopes that the young King is there, and will be taking this jewel off his hands.

“So what do ya think, Gary? Should I ditch this arrond for that guy back there, and take off with the jewel myself?” Cerden asked his Gryphon in a jokingly manner.

In response, Gary gave a light grunt, and shifted his eyes at Cerden, pretty much saying ‘hell-to-the-no’. Cerden knew that it would be wrong of him to do such a thing, but it is in his character to joke around like that. Though, Cerden doesn’t really understand much importance to the jewel. Like, it’s not even a pretty jewel. It’s shaded maroon red, and it’s shaped like a disfigured square. But, it can’t be helped.

“I wonder what this king will be like. He better not be a damn pissy snob of a king. I’ll be very pissed off if he is.”

[Valkyrur]

Threepwood
Altair Aquilae

Threepwood. Bustling town of Magic-users. Filled with guilds, this was a town to be in. So Altair would think anyway, considering the other towns and cities that she once visited. Yet she still had much more to see, and much more to experience. Stepping into her home of many years, she smiled, seeing the cobwebs and generally rundown condition of the house.

A hundred years is quite a long time, and with her parent's xenophobic tendencies, there rarely was a chance to purchase newer furniture. Aqui walked over to the table, its top covered with a noticeable layer of dust.

"Probably an antique by now, hm?"

Smiling, she walked into her parents' room. On the bed, a smooth stone very much like a candy bar. Picking up the stone, she quickly wiped off the dust on the stone. Glancing at the ancient markings on the stone, she closed her eyes, gathering focus on the stone.

It glowed, and for a moment, it stayed that way until finally, the ancient markings were the only lit parts of the stone.

"What was it again? Uh... Nine... Nine... Eight... Seven..."

Trying to recall the code her parents left her with, she gently touched the relevant markings. The stone emits a soft beep with each tap, and with one final tap, she placed the phone to her ears.

"What."

"Oh hi Mum!"

Exclaiming into the phone, Aqui laughs almost maniacally at her mother's curses and swears.

"Are you even my daughter?! What happened to mature and demure?! A hundred years failed to teach you that?!"

"Oh come on, there's no additional charges... Just magic!"

"I'm hanging up."

"No! Don't!"

"Uh, there's like bad reception here."

"W-what?"

It was quiet as soon as she said that. The stone returned to its original state. Sighing softly to herself, she placed the stone back on the bed as she walked towards the room. It wasn't unusual that her mother would cut off the conversation like that - her father wouldn't though inevitably, it happens.

To those end, they would concoct the most creative of excuses, much to Aqui's amusement.

Be it, 'having the runs', 'I'm busy right now', or 'I'll get back to you'.

Nothing she couldn't handle, however, as she walked towards the inn, where she would be staying for the night. Admittedly, while her house would be a cheaper alternative, she wouldn't let an opportunity to stay in the best room.

[Heading towards Threepwood Inn]

[ElvenAngel]

(( OOC: Hohoho, so much to do! I'm glad I waited a bit for some posts to accumulate. Time to meddle with you! Well...at least, the ones that I CAN find something for you to do...))

-------------

Location: Threepwood - The Broken Wand Inn - Stables

Bernadetto's workload in the stables always seemed to pass faster when he whistled as he did his chores. So he whistled softly as he swept the floor around his work-post, where he sat and read, ate or dozed between his chores, when he wasn't looking after the mounts of the guests. It was a fairly busy day and the equine section was nearly packed. The carnivore section, with the bigger, sturdier pens that kept their guests safe--and the rest from them-- were far from empty as well...

A thick wall and a narrow space for him and his two assistants to live and work from was all that separated the two sections...well, that and a few dozen wards and calming spells to keep the animals relaxed and easy to manage.

As he swept some loose hay out on the side to be carted off later, he noted a heavily-loaded person approaching. Most likely from the inn and wanting his mount--and he was shortly followed by that elvish woman that'd left that oaf of a white bear the other night. Bernadetto was relieved to see her if anything. That beast was going to eat through their larder sooner or later.

Then some yells attracted his attention. "What's going on?! What's all this racket!? Hey you, wait! Don't go in that section--it's where we keep the meat-eating mounts!" the stable keeper blurted, watching somebody come barging in from a side door and straight into the meat-eaters' section. "Come out of there, you're upsetting the animals!"

And with that, he facepalmed as an angry moa bird squawked loudly at the disturbance from it's pen, and a chorus of grumpy grunts, shrieks and other noises followed.

------------

Location: Outside the walls of Morris

The Duchy of Morris prides itself in it's self-sustenance and management and an integral part of all this was internal security. Morris had a pretty extensive army that also acted as police, protecting the capital and the tiniest hamlet in Morris territory equally. Of course, they were no match for the expansive and better-armed troops of Boletaria, but they were adequate for a territory the size of the Duchy of Morris.

A patrol group of five officer soldiers were completing their usual patrol route along the outer wall of Morris--one of three patrol groups that made this route regularly--when a civilian reported to them a disturbance. The patrol promptly saw fit to investigate and before long, they arrived at the spot where the civilian had reported the problem. The subtle but noticeable way that people seemed to slow down as they passed, lingering to observe, let the commanding officer know they had arrived at the scene when they approached one of the auxiliary gates of Morris, known as the Gate de la Luxiol.

It didn't take long to locate the problem. A woman, who by all appearances was a part-fiend. The commanding officer silently ordered his men to stand by while he assessed the issue. Thanks to a very liberal Duke (the current Duke's grandfather, in fact) Morris was one of the few places in Boletaria where part-fiends could come and go with more or less little problem as long as they conformed to common laws. Sure, people were still wary and even a bit afraid of them but the city was still open to them for residence, travel or business. Some part-fiends lived in Morris and openly flaunted their nature. Yeah, they could be a troublesome lot but they never overstepped their bounds and the Morris army was trained for such emergencies if the need arose. But the part-fiends, the people and the army of Morris had all formed a sort of unspoken truce. Nobody got in each other's hair.

This woman was probably a recent arrival.

After weighing his options, the officer approached the part-fiend woman, on his own, with a very calm and collected stride. He kept his hands away from his sword. His men knew the drill about investigating such incidents: stand back and stand by, ready to act but never before the captain had made the first approach.

The uniform of the patrolling officers was designed with a dual purpose of protecting its wearer, so it came with the standard chest-plate armor, thick pants of magi-woven iron-linen (they were as tough as steel yet breathed like cotton!), gauntlets and greaves. The armor was light and streamlined to give it a light, compact look that clung to the body well and kept the soldiers from looking big or clunky. Their helmets, sleek and smooth like the rest of the armor, with a crest sweeping back and topped with hunter-green short feathers gave them a smart, alert look. Their visors, with elegant face guards of smooth bars that could be raised or lowered, had a neutral look to them, keeping them from looking overly intimidating but still endowed them with an air of authority. The armor, tinted in the Morris colors of steely gray and hunter-green, displayed the crest of Morris (a hand rising up from a cloud while grasping a lightning bolt in hand) proudly.

"M'am, a moment please," the captain of the patrol said to the part-fiend coolly. "I need to take a look at your travel papers, please."

He kept his tone even, firm but non-threatening. He hoped she wasn't going to react. The main reason he was giving her a routine check was to keep the citizens calm and get them to move along and quit their dawdling and staring.

------

Location: Morris - Public Square

With the approach of the conference, stall and shop owners were doing everything to spice up their establishments and make them more attractive.

In that way of thought, the proprietor of a bakery was struggling with his son to set up a new tent over the sales window of his shop to accommodate for more people waiting to buy and even include a few tables for people to sit and enjoy their purchases on the spot. However, the process of erecting the three wooden pillars needed to support this new feature was proving to be a problem for the baker, already rather advanced in years, and his son, a thin man who although healthy, just lacked the strength needed to hold the pillars upright till they were secured on their moorings on the ground.

"Dad, it's hopeless. Unless we get a crew here, we won't be able to get this up," the son grumbled, wiping his grow.

"Darn it!" the baker huffed. "The crew office is touting such nonsense. I've been there thrice already and their men are all already booked through the week!" he grumbled, prodding one of the pillars they were forced to put down yet again, with his foot.

He glanced around. "Maybe someone could help..." he muttered, spotting an orc--or half orc probably, judging by his looks.

"Dad, no," the son said firmly but quietly. "You promised no more business with orcs! We barely got the bill paid off the last time one of them came here. Remember how they broke the counter? And the smell afterwards!?"

"Quiet, Rupert, those were different times--besides the square's positevly crawling with guards," the baker brushed him off and approached the orc who was sitting at the fountain. "Oi, there, fellow," he said firmly. "D'you wanna earn a bit of money and a hot loaf?" then with the cringe of someone not familiar with a language added: "Heo kiwz...kecv? U xih. U xih...rewah...money and...uh, pcaim. Ya? U waam...rogska!" he added, pointing to the orc's big arms and then the pillars. "Ah for fuck's sake, my orcish is a disaster. I need to lift that wooden junk there and get it secured. Heo bakx?" ("You want...work? I pay. I pay...money... money and uh, bread. I need...muscle! [...] You help?")

The son just looked on nervously as this odd exchange went on and tilted his head, still wondering just where his father had learned orcish from.

-----------

Location: Redwater - Wembley's Mercenary Agency

Located in the outer end of the mercantile district of Redwater, Wembley's Mercenary Agency had seen slightly better days. Back in the day it was a major hub for traveling mercenaries or adventurers looking for something to do. With Redwater' boom into a prosperous dock, newer agencies had flourished and Wembley's had fallen a bit on the old-fashioned side--even though it still provided the same impeccable services.

The clerk at the front desk of the agency sighed and scribbled away some nonsense, in a vain effort to pass the time while nobody showed up in the agency. It was a slow season, with not much going on and most of their surviving mercenaries either on leave or already on jobs.

He huffed, pushed his glasses further up his nose and tapped his fingers on his desk, looking at the door and almost begging for some washed up mercenary to come in looking for something to do, just so that he'd have something to do as well!

[Hera Ledro]

((OOC: Starting location - Castle Morris, outskirts))

Two hooded figures stood under the northernmost keep of Castle Morris, one tall and one short. The shorter of the two bowed and said, "A princely ransom, but this particular target will require much more...adequate remuneration."

The taller figure bristled. "And exactly how 'adequate' is this to be?"

"Thrice your request." The short one's statement caused the other to groan angrily. "If my price is too high, then I can recommend some colleagues who work for cheaper. However they are not quite as versatile or talented as myself, and only a handful of them may be considered 'subtle'. A royal target is an important one."

The taller figure said, "That's why he must die. It will cause chaos and disruption over the whole duchy, which is just what my master needs to wrest power from these fools. I tell you -"

"I do not need to hear your exposition of your master's plans," the shorter figure interrupted, "nor would it be wise for you to keep a loose tongue. Merely pay me the money or seek other help."

The taller figure visibly wrestled with himself while the shorter simply stood back, his cowl providing all the cover he required. Finally, the taller figure said, "Fine. We will pay you your price. And, as agreed, you will be paid half now and the remainder upon returning alive from the successful job."

"Agreed." The shorter figure turned and looked at the wall behind him. He fidgeted beneath his sleeves for a moment, then a shunk sound was heard from the inside. The figure drew back his sleeves before turning back to his employer, revealing dark blue furred claws and two bracers with three sharp blades sticking out of each. "Now, if you would provide me with my money, we may begin."

The tall figure drew from a satchel in his cloak three bags, and within each the tinkling sound of gold and platinum coins were heard. "Here is the half. I look forward to seeing you return triumphant on this day."

The shorter figure took the bags and weighed them in his hand. "And I look forward to counting all of this with you when I return." With that, the figure turned and, digging his claws into the wall of Castle Morris, began his ascent into the second floor window in the keep above. The figure had gotten only halfway when his employer shouted from below, "How do you plan to kill him?"

"Simple," replied the shorter figure. As he reached the section of the tower that angled up and out, his hood fell away, revealing a lupine face with black-blue fur. White fangs gleamed in the sunlight, and a sweeping tail peeked out from under the cloak. Yet the most disconcerting thing, the tall figure noted, was the jet-black blindfold that Without turning, he said, "They won't be able to see me." With that he reached the outside of the window and grabbed onto the sill.

He didn't expect the window itself to slam down on his fingers.

The werewolf held back a cry and slipped back down, flipping backwards and around as he did and grabbing onto the ledge with the upper part of his feet. He blew on his injured fingers, muttering, "Damn...that smarts." Making sure the window was closed and not about to fall again, the wolf flipped back and pulled himself up, opening the window and disappearing into the castle.

The tall hooded figure stood outside and looked at where the werewolf assassin had been hanging not a moment ago. "This Tysorai is the best...hopefully he'll have better luck inside."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tysorai stole out into the hallway with a swish of his cloak, massaging his fingers before opening a door to a room and disappearing into it. Tysorai closed the door silently and tapped the wall with his knuckle. The tap reverberated, and the echo seemed to descend from where he stood. A stairway, obviously. With quiet steps the blind assassin made his way down the staircase, noting that it spiraled downward.

Tysorai stopped and sniffed the air; his target's scent was all over this hall. He continued downward and sniffed again; the smell was stronger, and had a strong tang accompanying it. Blood. Tysorai maintained his course, thinking on this as he padded down the spiral staircase. Why would his target, a high-ranking member of the court, smell of blood? And moreover, why would the smell of blood be getting stronger? Tysorai surmised that he was approaching a dungeon - perhaps a torture room - for the smell of the blood did not match the smell of his target. Yet, strangely, it was familiar. But Tysorai could not figure out where he had smelled that blood before.

Tysorai arrived at the landing of the staircase, raising his hood and lowering his sleeves. A guise would work well, he thought, and so he imitated the voice of an old man as he knocked on the door in front of him. "Hello?" he rasped, "Is this the john? Oh my aching...let me in, please?! I need to go so bad..."

There was a click on the latch and Tysorai hunched himself over, attempting to make his old man disguise more believable. What he was in actuality doing was gripping his daggers, though he appeared to be gripping an aching stomach. He heard the door open, and the smell of his target flared in intensity before a voice said, "You bloody old git, you're going the wrong way! The -" The man did not even manage to finish his sentence before Tysorai bowled him over and crouched over top of him, his daggers pressed crosswise against the man's throat. "Another sound," Tysorai warned, "and your throat will be slit on the spot." Tysorai leaned in closer, smelling his target. Yes, this was the man, this was his target. But he also smelled of blood - a very hard, ferrous smell which belonged to the same person who Tysorai could not recall.

This mattered not, however. A mere curiosity which Tysorai could ponder later. Instead the assassin said to his target, "Do you know the price that was put on your skull? Quite a hefty one. And I tripled it. You've upset a lot of people, you know. No, don't say a word," he hissed. His captor had opened his mouth, and Tysorai responded by pressing his daggers harder against his captive's throat. "You scream, and those guards I smell on the other side of the door will come in, and then I'll have to kill them as well. You wouldn't want to be responsible for more suffering than you already are, would you?" Tysorai smelled the air again and cocked his ears. He could hear conversation on the other side of a nearby door, and...singing.

Tysorai brought his nose close to his target's and said, "Do not fear. Death comes to us all. Be happy that I ended it for you, before the war began." With that, Tysorai slashed his daggers and slit the man's throat. With a quick flourish to shake some blood off them, Tysorai sheathed his daggers and approached the singing door. Time to satisfy that curiosity - why was the smell of iron-like blood so strong by this door, and why was there a tune coming from behind that door?

It hit Tysorai in a flash, and he instantly regretted it. He growled low, caught between his desire to uphold a debt and to collect his bounty. He sided with honour; there was nothing which said he could not collect his bounty after settling his debt.

Tysorai opened the door and inhaled, locating the two guards by their scents. Both of them had only time to turn before Tysorai buried a throwing knife in each of their throats (an uncommon miss for Tysorai; he usually got them in the head). Tysorai walked past their bodies and fished out one of his throwing knives. Lowering his hood, he growled at the cellmate while picking at the lock.

"You damn idiot Ryan...exactly what in the name of Hell do you think you're doing getting yourself caught in Castle Morris?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OOC: Interesting little tidbit: it is possible for blind folks to tap their way into 'vision', and some can actually use a form of echolocation by clicking their tongues. Tysorai will use something similar to this; the reason it isn't stated in the bio is because I thought it was rather obvious that this was something he could do given his heightened senses.