RPG #1 - Under the Dark of Night

Discussion in 'RPG #1 - Under the Dark of Night' started by Nienor, Apr 10, 2004.

  1. Radagast

    Radagast Art House Member

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    Menecrow, not having a chance to talk inbetween Cymri's lashes, glared at the woman as hard as he could. Finally finding a break in her anger, Menecrow yelled loudly enough for most of the tavern folk to hear if they could understand his harsh accent.

    "Mediocre? Bloody nobles! Your lucky I realize my significance to this party, and that I know the value of my skills. No appreciation where appreciation is deserved."

    Standing up, Menecrow gave Cymri a push towards the stairs, in which she responded with stiff composure and a raised eyebrow. Menecrow muttered under his breath, the word gentlemen prominent, before retrying his approach.

    "M'lady, we shall need to have a chat, you and I. Menecrow has not been merely mediocre, in fact I have done more justice than those other fools out there. If you would follow me, I would be honoured to tell you why I am worth an infinite amount of gold." Flourishing a very pitiful bow that was more sarcastic than sincere, Menecrow held out his hand for Cymri. After a moment of hesitation, she complied and followed him upstairs, where they could talk without other ears.

    Once above, Menecrow checked to make sure none of the maids were around. Cutting his finger absently as he stroked one of his axes, Menecrow spoke in a low, rigid whisper to Cymri.

    "M'lady, if you would wish to know, I awoke early this morning before the others, save Darion. After a couple of well needed morning refreshments for a spurt of energy, I scouted the outskirts of the town for knowledge. I know where every bloody road leads too, and the location of several of the estates belonging to the child horsethief." Cymri raised an eyebrow to question the significance of what Menecrow just told her, yet Menecrow hurried on, not giving her a chance to speak.

    "Ah, m'lady but wait. My adventures becomes much more, hmm...thrilling." An evil grin enveloped Menecrow's face as he continued. "After I journeyed back to the tavern, I walked in to make common talk with the villagers. Menecrow is very curtous and friendly with the local colour, m'lady. And but along comes a young child, an overgrown infant with ill-favored animal features. He tried to taunt Menecrow the Mighty with jests of importance, but Menecrow looks beyond such petty attempts. Knowing that only fools create trouble, I journeyed outdoors, only to be followed by the helpless beast. After some lousy jeering on his part, he reveled to me his status as the uncivil horsethief. A born fool, m'Lady. With that, I decided to put the barbaric varmint out of his misery with one shot of the crossbow. If it wasn't for some mystical power placed within that jewel inlaid sword of his, he would of been good as gone. First off, he did not even learn his stance right, second, he held a lousy grip on his sword. The younger Menecrow the Merciful used to be a skilled sword fighter before he learned the techniques of more useful and practical weapons m'Lady."

    With that said, Menecrow spat to hall while he waited for Cymri's response.
     
  2. Nienor

    Nienor Administrator Staff Member

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    As Menecrow spoke, Cymri felt her anger lessening by degrees. The man was as useful as she had first thought. It paid to have friends in low places. Smiling gratefully at the man, she answered, “Menecrow, forgive me for my insults. I seem to have misplaced my common sense today.” In a lower voice she added, “This is the most useful information I have heard so far. Coincidence has lead us to exactly where we need to be. I know it!”

    She began to mumble to herself, “If what Menecrow says is true, I can see why Lord Aquilius wants the Emerald back. But what if I kept it for myself….” she mused.

    Instantly remembering she wasn’t alone, Cymri regained her regal composure in front of Menecrow. Reaching into a small pocket in the skirt of her dress, she withdrew a large embossed golden coin. She held it out towards Menecrow saying, “I always reward dedication.” As his hand reached for the coin, Cymri held it back for a moment finishing her thought, “Let us keep this private. Three can keep a secret only when two are dead.”

    With a grunt and a nod Menecrow accepted the coin. Cymri was sure he would bite it when she was out of sight to test its authenticity. Placing her hand on his arm she spoke quietly, “Come, let us go back to the common room, before anyone suspects something is amiss.” After those words, Cymri walked confidently back to the common room, sitting down next to Darion.
     
  3. Meteorain

    Meteorain Magical & Mystical

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    Practicing his forms in the clearing at the rear of the house, Fallorian deftly went through the forms. He wsa quite skilled with sword, even without the new 'powers' he had gined. The trick for Fallorian to winning a duel was his lazy stance nd poor grip. These were intentional. The poor looking grip and lazy stance tricked his enemy into thinking he was a fool with a sword, and this gave him the advantage, as he could quickly strike before his enemy knew what was happening. Still he had to go through the basics, as the most fundamental skills made a good fighter.

    An hour later, Fallorian went inside to don his cloak, as he intended to begin his 'investigations' into the murder. Farod's body by now must have been removed and given to the undertaker. Therehe would be able to closely inspect how the man was killed, and with what. Heading to the mortury, Fallorian knocked on the door, and asked to see Faro'd body. Fed the undertaker lead him to the body, which was placed ontop of a table to be 'cleaned up presentable' for the funeral. After a while of inspecting, he deduced that the man who was responsible was a highly skilled assassin of sorts and that there was noone in this village who had the skills to do this, therefore it must be one of Cymri's companions or herself responsible. He would have to have a word with them soon.
     
  4. aule

    aule The Smithy of the Valar

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    Cymri, my lady, I am sorry, I had gotten carried away earlier... it is just that I am terribly bored and have nothing useful to do, so I feel that I must insist that I join your party. Or would you rather that I make things even more difficult for you and your crew in your quest?
     
  5. Turin

    Turin Valar Morghulis

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    Glancing past Cymri to take Black Spear, Darion said in a low voice. "This party of your's gets stranger by the minute, my Lady." Pushing back his empty plate he leaned his elbows on the bar and began sipping wine from his mug. "I fear some may not be what they seem, I would caution you to be careful who you are alone with." Not wanting to reveal his findings in the stable in front of Black Spear, a man he hardly knew, and trusted little, Darion changed the subject leaving Cymri with a raised eyebrow. "Where do you plan to lead us now that we have at least one of our goals in sight?"
     
  6. Nienor

    Nienor Administrator Staff Member

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    "Aye, but the party started out strange when I picked up a man in the Dragon's Nest." she retorted with a grin. Motioning to one of the barkeeps, she inquired, "Could I have some spiced red wine for myself. Also, if you can aquire it a piece of paper and something to write with. Turing back to Darion she replied, "I do have my plans."

    Ina few moments the barkeep returned to Cymri's surpise and delight with exactly what she asked for. While Darion stared over her shoulder Cymri penned a quick note in pretty penmanship. When she had finished Cymri stood up and walked over to the Black Spear. "If you wish to be of service, please bring this letter over to Lord Sarat. Hopefully he will have a reply for me."

    She walked back to where Darion was and sat down again, picking up her goblet of wine. Smiling faintly, "I think the horsethief will be in for a shock when Lady Cymri and her cousin Sir Darion come for tea on a social call to his father. Perhaps when we're there, our footman could do a little snooping." she said with a wink.
     
  7. aule

    aule The Smithy of the Valar

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    Yes, m'lady, I'll take your missive to Lord Sarat... and I'll be back in a jiffy *he says over his shoulder as he strides out of the tavern*
     
  8. Turin

    Turin Valar Morghulis

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    Thoughtfully rubbing his chin Darion gave Cymri an approving smile and a nod. "Yes, I can see the advantages in that. Perhaps we need to bring our group together in private to discuss the dynamics of this little outing."

    Darion gave himself a quick glance, wondering if he could become presentable enough for an audiance with the local lord. He had been in the presence of nobility plenty of times throughout the years, and with royaly more times than most, but his travels had left him a bit worn looking. "Perhaps I should give my boots and coat a good cleaning before we go?" Cymri gave him a wry smile, perhaps she had been thinking the same thing. A woman always noticed flaws in ones appearance before a man. He might be rougher looking than he thought. He would have to remember not to go around fingering his sword in front of the lord either, that sort of thing had a tendancy to put people on edge.
     
  9. Crusader

    Crusader Disturber of the Peace

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    *Gwandon was filled with anger, the sight of skeletal peasants moaning for food before his feet had enraged him. Now standing before his father, knife in hand he slashed at the mans face. What was before him was a monster, a tyrant and not his father. Blood trickled from the kings cheek. Gwandon turned to his left seeing his young brother Shann staring, his gaze burning a shameful hole in Gwandons face*

    Jumping into conciousness Gwandon realised where he was in the Tavern. When Darion mentioned Acronia his thoughts had drifted back to home, he had spent half his life in exile and it pained him to think of his family.

    Gwandon shrugged away his memories and rose, it had been many hours and he was in need of an update. He walked to the bar near Cymri and Darion, listening to their plans of entering the thief's home and overhearing words of murder on the other side of the bar. Gwandon brushed a little dust from his cloak.

    "If you wish to see this lord Sarat as nobles, I may suffice. I.............was......A prince, of noble birth, this lowly lord should respect me enough. I apologise for my inactivity this morning, i was deep in thought"
     
  10. aule

    aule The Smithy of the Valar

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    *As this is going on, Black Spear comes into the tavern from the direction of the abode of Sarat the Mayor of the Town* with an acception for Darion and Cymri to visit later that day.
     
  11. Nienor

    Nienor Administrator Staff Member

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    Taking the letter from Black Spear, Cymri swifly broke the seal and opened it. She scanned the letter, quickly reading its contents. Glancing circumspectly at Darion she told him, "Lord Sarat is wishes our company this evening for dinner. He doesn't specify that we cannot bring another, so I'm sure he will not mind Gwandon accompanying us."

    Turning towards Gwandon she replied gently, "Nobody begrudes you your personal time Darion. Truly there was nothing that we needed you for today." Moving the paper slightly towards him, "We're going to meet Lord Sarat this evening for dinner, why don't you prepare yourself." she said soothingly.

    Gwandon smiled at Cymri's pleasant tone and returned to his musing. When he was out of earshot, she smirked at Darion, gesturing back towards Gwandon, "Amazing the amount of wine some men can consume when they're not paying for it." Rolling her eyes at his behavior, she stalked over to where a barmaid was sitting, "Has there been any packages for me?" she demanded.

    "Yes m'lady" the barmaid answered with a curtsy. "Several from the seamstress. They were taken to your room." In the same demanding, impatient tone Cymri asked for a bath to be brought to her room, a light luncheon and all the wrinkles pressed out of one of the gowns. Her tone implied that these request would be carried out with expediency.

    Smiling back at those assembled in the common room she called out, "I will see you gentlemen in a few hours. Occupy yourselves as you wish."
     
  12. Lego

    Lego God amongst men

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    Alvarel sat in his chair and glanced around the room he sighted Gwandon and sized him up, he look at how his figure was and judged him, on whether he thought Gwandon would make a good corpse, he lloked at his eyes and suddenly somthing came back to him, he saw him before, he carried on looking at gwandon for a long while.
     
  13. Meteorain

    Meteorain Magical & Mystical

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    As Fallorian made his way back inside the house, his father beckoned, as he was about to go to his room. Spinning around he went to his father's study.
    "What is it father?" he asked
    "It seems that we shall be having guests tonight...A Lady Cymri it seems" his father replied.
    "Hmm, Father when i went to get the Emerald, I 'got' another item aswell as the Emerald. I took a horse, which i believe is lady Cymri's."
    "I see...well we shall just have to see how it plays out then"
    "Father, i would advise you set up some traps with your mage skills, for I think she may bring some of her 'retune' with her, and they do like a ruff lot."
    "Hmm, I don't know what you get yourself into Fallorian, but if you feel so, i shall do it" his father said, as the conversation came to a halt.

    Walking out of the study Fallorian called for Nana, to heat the water, as he would have to be presentable for tonight. Going into his room, Fallorain thought of what they might be up too, most likely, one of the ruff's would sneak about, he supposed he could get out early, to check for anything amiss.
     
  14. Crusader

    Crusader Disturber of the Peace

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    Gwandon walked away from Cymri and went back up to his room, Noticing an odd look from the elf on his way there. Taking off some of the heavier chainmaille and replacing his battle worn surcoat with some more respectable garments, looking once more like the noble man he was, Gwandon put his white cloak back on and returned to the common room.

    Feeling his mouth dry he went to the bar and spoke with samal.
    "Ale my friend, my mouth is parched. Say, what is all this talk of murder, i have been deep in thought all day and am in need of news"

    "Aye, terrible business this is, A man was brutally slain in the stable, his neck cut from behind and his eyes removed, heres yer drink"

    Gwandon stopped frozen, It couldnt be, no, not here, not again! He quickly turned his head and surveyed the room, the killer was here, Deaths Shadow was in the village.

    He thought back, it must have been three years or more ago, all the way over the other side of the river Tolk in the city of H'thrana. Gwandon had been travelling in the hotter regions of Elysium and had come to the city to rest. When he first came to the place there had been a murder, a week later there had been six, it went on exponentially for over month. The city was a huge maze of shady streets and rocky roads, it was a breeding ground for thugs and bandits. But this was different, mercenaries and Sherrifs were slain, all of them had their eyes taken. In H'thrani culture the eyes were sacred so the dead could find their way into the afterlife, none would touch them, and it was seen as dishonourable to attack an armed man from behind, without warning, the killer was given the name "Deaths Shadow" as no one ever saw the murderer, he or she was gone before the authorities arrived. The killer was foreign and soon many began to question Gwandon. As an oath fo honour, Gwandon pledged to rid the city of the plague and went in search of the murderer. After a week of following patterns and suspects, by chance he came at last to the killer in the act. It was in the dark fo night, fog had set in and in a deep alley on the way to his inn, Gwandon saw two figures in the distance, one seemed to disappear and reapear in a second and then the other fell down dead. Gwandon ran as fast as he could and with the killer in front all the saw was a slender figure and a dark cloak. The figure span around mid run, sending an arrow back at him in furious speed, Gwandon only barely escaped the thing landing in his neck ans threw a knife forward at the killer. Similtaniously another arrow came back and struck Gwandon in the thigh. The killer escaped and Gwandon pulled the shaft from his leg, he memorised the design, for it was cold and deadly. After that day there were no more killings, Gwandon had scared off Deaths Shadow, but the menace was still alive somewhere.

    It was happening again, and Gwandon thought to himself who it could be, and at once he knew. From their first meeting a day or two ago, Gwandon had felt a sense of familiarity with the elf. Trying to keep this secret hidden untill he could next speak with Cymri, Gwandon took the ale and went to a seat in the back where he could clearly see alvarel, and Alvarel could not see him without turning from his chair. There was little chance Gwandon could defeat this menace easily. He would have to be very careful from now on.
     
  15. Lego

    Lego God amongst men

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    Alvarel remembered who the man was, he was the Prince that caught him in the act, he remembered that he had only just managed to escape from being captured last time, he remembers the arrow that he successfully lodged in the prince's thigh and smiled, he leaned back in his seat pulled his hood over his eyes.
     
  16. Turin

    Turin Valar Morghulis

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    Watching Cymri leave the common room, Darion did the same. It would be two hours or so before they needed to depart for Serat's manor, enough time for him to have his coat cleaned and focus his mind. Gathering his coat from his room he left his cloak hanging on a peg and returned to the common room. "Samal, would you have my coat brushed and pressed please, I will need it in an hour." Giving the man a grateful nod Darion departed the inn through the rear door.

    Entering the stable Darion made sure he was alone before begining his workout, he prefered to be alone, it helped him to focus. Stripping to his waist and propping his empty scbbard against a stall door he began working his sword. After an hour he found himself dripping with sweat and feeling much better.

    Returning to the inn he found Samal with his freshly pressed coat in hand. It actually looked presentable, hard to believe after all the travelling he had done in it. Giving the man a few coppers for his time Darion took his coat and returned to his room. After washing he unloaded the contents of one of his bulging saddle bags. Sorting out his large golden pins he began attaching them to his coat. The markings of his rank. 'Sir Darion' he thought wryly to himself. I suppose I can make a good enough show of it. He had never actually been a knight though, being accepted into the Dar'Shien at only 15 years old. Not that it really mattered, most of the men to join the order were the highest knights from the surrounding nations, and they started their training all over after joining.

    Pulling his coat on he gave it a final look, a fair sight, regal blue with a high collar and a large golden lion on the left shoulder that mirrored the stalking lion tatooed on his neck. On the other shoulder was a golden pin of a sword wrapped in rose vines. On the left breat were a dozen smaller pins of both silver and gold, medals awarded for his successes in combat. He was unaccustomed to wearing such gawdy things, typically they were only donned for the most formal events, but he supposed now was occasion enough. Buckling his sword belt on over his coat he left his room and went down the hall in search of Cymri, 'perhaps she would like an escort' he thought.
     
  17. Radagast

    Radagast Art House Member

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    Menecrow had been lounging around the tavern, drinking more ale than his thirst required. He was not really paying attention to the happenings of the others, he had heard enough. Menecrow would slit his own throat with his own fingernail before becoming a pawn in any nobles meeting. The fool Darion would do enough protection for Cymri, if the need arose. And although Darion was still dense at times, he had become more favourable the longer he was around Menecrow. It also appeared to Menecrow that Gwandon might be going along. Though whether him and the elf could stop eyeing each other up, both pretending not to while both thinking that they were succedding, was a rather trivial matter. Children, Menecrow realized he would never understand them and their imaginative antics.

    Getting up slowly, Menecrow decided to head to his servant quarters. Sleep always seemed so aluring after ale, though what made it so, Menecrow was unsure. Sounding his boots on the stairs, he made he way to the top and almost fell right back down. Darion was dressed up pretty as any noble, he hardly appeared the same man Menecrow had seen not two hours ago. Muttering rigidly to himself, Menecrow brushed past the man to his quarters.

    "Always knew you were as stupid as they get, I was the first to claim it. There was a remote chance for you to learn a shade of the wisdom I behold, yet this vile noble costume leaves little doubt now. Pass my well wishes to the lady, she will need it without my imposing presence."

    Glancing back to Darion, who appeared to be either trying hard to stifle a laugh or suffering emotional from Menecrows lashes, Menecrow carried on into his room. Menecrow knew the man was crying inside, none laughed at Menecrow and lived. Falling lazily to his bed, Menecrow unstrapped his two axes and checked his crossbow to ensure it was not tampered with during his outing. Closing his eyes, he quickly drifted into a much deserved sleep.
     
  18. Turin

    Turin Valar Morghulis

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    Barely suppressing a chuckle over the man's stumbling and nearly falling down the stairs after catching sight of him, Darion watched Menecrow stagger past to his room, reaking of Ale and mumbling something inaudible about wisdom and his imposing presence. It had to be a joke, anyone would laugh at the word wisdow associated with 'Menecrow the Drunkard' or whatever it was he called himself today.

    He could hardly blame the man for being taken aback by all the metal hanging from his coat, Darion was realizing himself why he disliked wearing the things so much. They made him feel like he was standing under a beacon for all the world to see. Not that it mattered really, few people this far south knew enough to recognize one of the Dar'Shien, even if they did know the name. They had not been active in these parts since the end of the Goblin wars.

    Allowing himself a small chuckle after Menecrow stumbled into his room, Darion continued down the hall towards Cymri's room.
     
  19. Meteorain

    Meteorain Magical & Mystical

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    The bathe was comforting, as it loosed knots in Fallorian's back, and it helped him to think. Getting out of the copper tub, he donned a high necked black coat, with patterns spiralling in a moonlight silver along his arms to his collar. He may not be a great noble, but he could sure as hell show them up. Buckling up his scabbard, Fallorian decided he would use a snakeskin scabbard; it was excellently crafted, and it radiated wealth and power.

    Talking to the few servants he had, he made sure everything was ready, only an hour now according to the agreement. He certainly would have to find out what they were truly after. He was sure all would be revealed tonight.
     
  20. Crusader

    Crusader Disturber of the Peace

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    Placing his hald around the hilt og his sword, Gwandon drew the blade a few inches, and the bright metal sparkled. He removed his glove and ran his left palm down the edge in a ritual fasion, as the blood ran his mind cleared, his view of the world sharpened and he was ready, the elf would not catch him off guard at any point. Carefully he wiped away the crimson flow and replaced his glove, careful not to stain his long coat.

    It was the last garment he was fitted for while in Acronia, Red silk with gold and black stitching and paterning all over., the symbol of the bleeding hand upon the sleeves among the other lesser symbols. Gwandon covered it with his white cloak so as not to stand out.

    He was eager to speak with Lord Sarat again, before he had left the village last time he had spoken with him briefly in the street, mostly about the histories of the town, as Gwandon sought knowledge of all the places he had been and Gwandon was saddened at his urgency to leave and cut short the conversation.