Game Thread A Death in the Upper City - RPG Crossing
RPG Crossing Home Forums Create An Account! Site Rules & Help

RPG Crossing
Go Back   RPG Crossing > Games > Pathfinder: 1e > Forgotten Forge
twitter facebook

Notices

Reply
 
Thread Tools
  #1  
Old Aug 20th, 2012, 08:10 PM
mad_gondsman's Avatar
mad_gondsman mad_gondsman is offline
dad_gondsman
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: May 3rd, 2021
RPXP: 27632
mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman
Posts: 9,759
A Death in the Upper City

IntroductionSharn, the largest city on the continent of Khorvaire, knows many names: the City of Towers, the City of Knives, the City of Lost Souls, the Gateway to Perdition... the Gateway to Xen'drik.

The ominous name which you ascribe to such a many-faceted city such as this, however, would largely depend upon the nature of your business on any given day. Within the walls that rise from the cliff faces of the Hilt is a maze-like network of structures that defies not only logic but the very truths that bind the world together, as well. Towers piled on top of towers reach higher and higher still, creating a man-made mountain of spires and skyscrapers that disappears into the dark clouds above.

From the the sordid filth of the shanties and hovels within the churning molten depths of the Cogs to the grand crystalline spires suspended far above the tallest towers of the Upper City, Sharn seethes with activity. While majestic and beautiful skyships soar through the skies above, houseless ragamuffins scrape, steal, and fight just to survive, forgotten beneath the weight and shadows of the towers where unimaginably wealthy scions of noble birth and Dragonmarked houses make their homes. To say that the city is beautiful and a marvel to behold is to turn a blind eye the squalor below. To say that the city is the pinnacle of civilization is to ignore the evil plots and selfish schemes of the men that make this city their home.

But ignorance, as they say, is bliss. And as such, this metropolis thrives.


Reply With Quote
  #2  
Old Aug 23rd, 2012, 11:46 PM
mad_gondsman's Avatar
mad_gondsman mad_gondsman is offline
dad_gondsman
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: May 3rd, 2021
RPXP: 27632
mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman
Posts: 9,759
Part One


Curtains of water fall from the sky as you stand beneath a canvas awning of a bookstore, huddling within a deep doorway and waiting for the storm to abate so that you can make your way back to your lodgings. Arcs of golden lightning streak across the sky, rumbling like an avalanche and rattling the nearby windows in their casings as the rains drum down in a relentless deluge. Fierce winds tear at your clothes and sting your cheeks as you huddle for cover behind whatever you can manage, hoping that you are not flung from the tower's top and wondering how it is even possible that such a storm manifested itself within only a few hours! Strange, other-worldly manifestations within Eberron may be disconcerting to many, but to Sharn, its logic-defying existence depends upon them.

Here, atop the impossibly tall Dalannan Tower, Morgrave University typically commands a breath-taking view of the surrounding towers and the lower reaches of the city. If not for the storm, you could see the neighboring Breland Spire, but as it is, you can barely make out the tower walls ten paces from where you stand. Stone paths wind around and between the towers and spires of the university, forming a complex latticework that can be very confusing on evenings such as this. Unfortunately, you were caught upon one of these wrap-around paths, miles above the ground, when the storm decided to show you all how insignificant you really are.

The rain falls like a waterfall from a higher balcony, splashing upon the stone a few paces from where you stand, and another arc of lightning streaks across the sky, illuminating your faces and temporarily dispelling the shadows in a flicker of unnatural yellow light. The distant glow of everbright lanterns, just barely visible in the soaking gloom, mark what you hope is your desired path. If only the storm would relent...

DMAnd we're off!
__________________
Tentatively getting back to it...

Become a Community Supporter! | Art of the Two Paragraph Post

Last edited by mad_gondsman; Aug 23rd, 2012 at 11:48 PM. Reason: It would feel wrong if I didn't.
Reply With Quote
  #3  
Old Aug 24th, 2012, 12:28 AM
Arucard's Avatar
Arucard Arucard is offline
Vampire Cat
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Dec 25th, 2020
RPXP: 19247
Arucard Arucard Arucard Arucard Arucard Arucard Arucard Arucard Arucard Arucard Arucard
Posts: 10,379
Melanchton watched the rain fall with mild consternation. Had he been within his quarters listening to the tempest from the vantage point of shelter, he would have been more appreciative; the rain had always helped him sleep. But he was not, and the only shelter he was afforded was near the back of a small, tightly-packed group of strangers - at least, they seemed to be strangers. The darkness and lack of visibility left little room to be sure.

The priest peered out as best he could between the huddled shoulders of his fellow pilgrims. Resigning himself to his fate, the young man tapped his staff with a dull knock into the stonework platform. A moment later a soft glow emanated from his cubbyhole next to the door of the bookstore, the tip of his walking stick providing artificial lighting to the small assembly.

Smiling meekly to any whose attention his display drew, Melanchton nestled the staff in the crook of his arm and opened the book he had just recently procured from the very building they were huddled outside of. He couldn't help but smirk at the irony, really; he had heard upon his arrival in Sharn about the manifest zones of Syrania causing the occasional storm. With the planes being an area of relatively limited knowledge for him, he had taken the opportunity to purchase a book and rectify that - and now he was getting a first-hand experience.

Within the glow of the magical illumination, the face of the young man was more easily discerned. He was young - perhaps in his late twenties - with short brown hair and faded blue eyes. His habit was plain; pale cloth robes with a dull red sash covering his shoulders. The only thing of note was a wooden trinket hanging from his wrist; it was mostly hidden, but showed itself every time the enraptured priest turned a page in his tome. Crudely designed, it looked as though it must have been whittled by the man himself in his younger years. It bore the shape of a book.

A light cough was the only noise he made, accompanied by the occasional turning of a page. Every so often he would look up from his book at the storm, nod sagely as if confirming a thought about its nature, and then return his attention to the literature.

 
__________________
Haunting the forums like a memory, lingering like the aroma of old socks.

Want a new avatar? CLICK HERE!

Last edited by Arucard; Aug 24th, 2012 at 01:18 AM.
Reply With Quote
  #4  
Old Aug 24th, 2012, 08:45 AM
LupusRegalis's Avatar
LupusRegalis LupusRegalis is offline
Boojahideen
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: May 18th, 2020
RPXP: 6905
LupusRegalis LupusRegalis LupusRegalis LupusRegalis LupusRegalis LupusRegalis LupusRegalis LupusRegalis LupusRegalis LupusRegalis LupusRegalis
Posts: 3,875
"Sodding rain, sodding school... waste of time! go back to malleon's gates my fuzzy red butt!" A half drowned mercenary, whose exposed features seemed odd in the poor lighting even given their soaked nature, grumbles in his native tongue as he carefully pushes on while looking for some shelter from the storm. "Uppity Brelish whore-son, like to send him through the gates!" Despite the gloom of the storm-swept landing he'd be able to see fine, if it wasn't for the waves of water sheeting into his face, and he'd have been safely out of the storm by now. The wind and water were becoming much more than just a nuisance as the storm gained momentum.

A sharp rap of wood on stone, somehow carried through the storm, catches his attention and he turns to look for its source. Oddly enough a soft glow seems to spring up as if to show him the way, though he has to shield his eyes so they adjust to the light. He grunts in surprise, and as quickly as he can heads towards the beacon. He quickly shuffles his way under the now-visible awning, pushing for room with no concern for who might be in his way. Though given his stature and nature, it's unlikely very many would contest his actions.

In the sheltered space of the awning, and with the soft glow of what appears to be a shining stick, his nature becomes apparent. His reddish-brown fur is waterlogged and drapes his bestial-seeming face in soaked strips. It's obvious he's extremely displeased and uncomfortable, but his heavily armed self deters anyone from commenting on his bedraggled state, if they're wise. It's all too obvious he's not a scholar, more likely a mercenary of some sort, and what exactly his business in the college is, isn't obvious at a glance. How often does a Hobgoblin end up on the grounds of Margrave University though, anyways?

"Gonna take HOURs to clean this stuff so it doesn't rust!" he continues his self-directed rant, looking at his soaked armor and weapons. "All because some self-important glorified assistant couldn't give me a simple answer on tuition cost. Dorn's balls he had me sit there for almost half the day. Bet he's sitting there all comfy like and smug. Better hope I don't see him on the streets, believe you me."

He fumes for a bit, but finally actually looks around at those sharing the awning with him. His eyes narrow a bit at the young man whose staff is lit up, and he cocks his head as he addresses the boy. "Your doing, that light?! Good timing, couldn't see merde. You a Mage or somethin'?" His speech is colored by his native tongue, but he otherwise speaks as well as any man, more or less. He picked up some bad habits from other mercenaries. "Anyways, gratitude and all that. I'm called Dag."
__________________
'Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force'.
~ Jedi Code, prior to Odan-Urr's Teachings
Reply With Quote
  #5  
Old Aug 24th, 2012, 06:55 PM
asura8 asura8 is offline
Star Gazing Nerd
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: May 5th, 2021
RPXP: 6277
asura8 asura8 asura8 asura8 asura8 asura8 asura8 asura8 asura8 asura8 asura8
Posts: 3,021
A Dark Night During the Last War
”Do not let yourself falter just because the weather has turned against us a little! We falter and we allow the undead to slaughter our people like they did to Metrol! Stay alert!” Aiden struggles to make himself heard over the sound of thunder and powerful winds, moving up and down along the ranks with a flourish of his blade. Each sound of lightning makes his hand clutch down a little harder upon his longsword; a faint resonance can be seen with the noise of the storm as a flicker of electricity runs for the barest of moments down the blade. He had been placed in charge of a small group of the soldiers; most of them were ill trained, but the support of even a single member of the Knights Arcane could help turn that force into a much more lethal body. But now, in this storm that chilled each man down to his very bones, they seemed ready to break down.

”The zombies and monsters of Karrnath will not rest in this storm! Think of your families, of everything we must protect. We shall strike them down so that our loved ones can live in peace! For Aundair!” Even as he shouts it out and raises his blade into the air as a rally, an arrow plunges into his shoulder. He scarcely has time to twirl around before-


Another peal of thunder fills the air and breaks Aiden from his reverie. As in his memories, he grips upon his sword as he remains in the shadows of the building, his body serving almost as a shield to protect a slender elf next to him from the worst of the rain and storm. She had wanted to see the grand libraries at Morgave University, of that knowledge pilfered from Xen'drik. He figured that they could perhaps find something to stock up a little money from there as well. He had left the service with so little gold, that it would best if he could restock that whenever he was capable.

His cloak is entirely soaked in the rainwater by now; it clings tightly to his form as he glances around at the other people seeking shelter from the storm. It is a nervous behavior, somewhat. He was somewhat lucky; he had only spent less than a quarter of his life out in the Last War before it ended as far as he was concerned. Across those battlefields, he fled with a Karrnath wizard that had spared him where his own country would have had him die. It was strange circumstances that brought him to the towers of Sharn, but leaving the Arcane Knights did not rid him of his training.

A spellcaster of some kind lights up from the tip of the staff. His eyes catch to it briefly; his familiarity with magic did not take him long to recognize it as an entirely non hostile action, yet for that brief moment, his hand once against found itself on the pommel of his longsword, crackling with lightning again. He removes his hand and shakes it off, listening to the conversation between what appears to be a hobgoblin and what appears to be a young man of age similar to Aiden himself. A learned man by the looks of it; he certainly didn't look like he had dealt with the horrors of war that so many of his generation had.

Still, hearing the commotion due to the general closeness that shelter from the storm created, he states in a simple voice. ”It was only recently that goblin blades clashed with Breland steel. I would not be so surprised by the treatment.” His voice carries with it a certain fluidity, a certain richness to the tone that marks him as having grown within Aundair. He speaks calmly, most of his face shielded under the cloak's hood, just loud enough to make sure that he is heard over the rage of the storm. He takes a moment to glance back to the elven girl next to him, stating in a slightly softer voice, ”Hopefully you are not getting too soaked, dear Aisula?”
Reply With Quote
  #6  
Old Aug 25th, 2012, 02:03 AM
Saratek's Avatar
Saratek Saratek is offline
Not a Doctor
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: May 17th, 2021
RPXP: 15530
Saratek Saratek Saratek Saratek Saratek Saratek Saratek Saratek Saratek Saratek Saratek
Posts: 11,544
Not sure why, or how he had managed to come this far, Nikolai found himself in a place he would have never dreamed he would be. Morgrave University was like nothing he had ever seen before. The entire city was for that matter. Mystified as he was, for some reason every path he took, and every turn he made just felt right, like a force was pulling him towards something. The journey to Sharn had been difficult and filled with tragedy to say the least, but that feeling of gloom had faded nearly completely when he walked through those doors into the largest and most exquisite library, for lack of a better term, he had ever seen.

Questions plagued the young Nikolai’s mind, but every time he approached someone, the words seemed to fade from his memory, leaving him standing there in silence with his mouth half-hanging open. After a while it became apparent that loitering wasn’t look favorably upon, so with little option, the smith decided to buy a book so as to seem less out of place. Whether it was just coincidence or fate, the first shelf Nikolai glanced at had a small book on it that grabbed his attention. While the others on the shelf were either quite large or quite thick or both, this one stood out as being a rather small book bound rather plainly compared to the others. Pulling it from the shelf, Nikolai ran his hand across the cover, feeling the rough texture of the book. There were no markings on the outside of the cover whatsoever, so when he opened the book to the title page, the name of the book surprised him even more. “The Armorer’s Challenge” was printed in plain script with no frills and no notation of an author.

What luck it could have been that the first book the young man pulled from the shelves seemed perfect for him. Taking it up to the front desk, Nikolai placed the book down and waited a few minutes before a rather annoyed looking elf turned and glared at him. There was a moment of shock before the elf’s scowl softened slightly as he looked back and forth between Nikolai and the book. There was a long moment of this before the elf picked up the book, examining it closely, and then set it back down. There was obviously an air of confusion to the encounter, but after some silence, the elf simply replied a rather cheap price for the book. Nikolai’s was actually quite surprised, but wasn’t sure if it was because of the book itself, or the fact that his apparent disability garnered some form of charity from the elf. Either way he paid the few coins for the book, and was off meandering through the halls to leave the University.

The rain had started while he was inside, but it hadn’t gone unnoticed by any stretch. The torrential downpour, jostling thunder, and blinding lightning made it clear to everyone that a storm had rolled in that was nothing like anything that someone could be used to. The locals of the city had probably grown to expect such things, but this kind of storm was not something a person could ever ignore. Nikolai knew he was walking into something bad as he slowly made his way outside as he flipped through the pages of his new book. He had been fortunate to have found a path through the mass of people moving in various directions through the large hallways as his attention was more on the book than on what was in front of him. As he neared the doors, a flash of lighting caught his attention for a mere moment, but growing up where he did with the weather he had endured, he knew the storm would pass soon enough and things would brighten up. This was Sharn after all, and not Karrnath.

Reaching the doors to the outdoors, he reached out without looking and started to pull when a powerful gust of wind helped him open it much faster than he expected. It through him off-balance for a moment, but just a moment long enough for Nikolai to refocus himself, pull his hood over his head, and bury his eyes back in the book as he pushed on outside. He hadn’t meant to but as he took his first few steps, the rushing wind, thundering rain, and flashing lighting disoriented him long enough that he walked right into a young priest(Melanchton) reading from a tome, nearly knocking the book from his hands. The young man immediately looked up from his own book with a look of regretful shock on his face as his innocent, yet gruff voice squeaked out, “My apologies.” Looking up at the man, and the others that had migrated to the priest, his milky white eyes was what caught their attention first. Nikolai was rather plain in the face with only a slightly prominent nose and jaw line. His very short dark hair was nearly completely hidden thanks to the drab cloak hood, and only was hinted out by the short beard the man had. In a city like this, someone that looked like such a commoner could almost be called out of place.
__________________
A common mistake that people make when trying to design something completely foolproof is to underestimate the ingenuity of complete fools.~Douglas Adams
Current Status: Playing Catch-Up
Reply With Quote
  #7  
Old Aug 25th, 2012, 10:35 AM
Krystianna's Avatar
Krystianna Krystianna is offline
...is pink
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Apr 2nd, 2016
RPXP: 3831
Krystianna Krystianna Krystianna Krystianna Krystianna Krystianna Krystianna Krystianna Krystianna Krystianna Krystianna
Posts: 699
Sharn had always been a destination Aisula was interested in visiting, especially the famous Morgrave University. While yes, the place certainly lacked what you would call... pristine academic credentials, even an institution that sustains itself mostly on the air-headed desire of rich upperclassmen to gawk and babble like air-headed drones over generally mishandled and damaged Xen'Dirk artifacts still must have SOME amount of reading material that is worth a genuine intellectual's time. Indeed, under ideal circumstances, this place would have been demoted to a mere pit-stop, an unfortunate but necessary side-trek for specialty research before moving on to some place with real promise, like Arcanix. Unfortunately, her dreams of a vaunted career in arcane academia seem to be ending up as yet another unfortunate casualty of the optimistically named Last War, especially considering her inability to gracefully return home and her present company's reluctance to return to Aundair for his perfectly reasonable concerns.

So Morgrave will have to do for now.

Indeed, the old adage of "beggars cant' be choosers" certainly rings true these days as even being at the doors of a place of learning is a distressing rarity in her life, as the concerns of day-to-day living tends to brutally rob her of the free time she so greatly yearns for. She would consider Breland a much nicer county had she not been forced to visit the armpits of the nation on a fairly regular basis for the sake of cheap travel and at the whims of the caravans she and Aiden sometimes found themselves guarding. Certainly, an elf can be forgiven for having a general disdain for an entire population when most of her dealings have been with, unwashed nose-picking mercenaries whose only two hobbies appear to be projectile spitting and self-referential works of fiction purely focused on tavern wenches and the boning thereof? Not to mention the fact that the towns she frequented tended to only vaguely be interspersed with brief glimpses of civilization (most due to house influence) and were generally awash with thick-headed and unkempt yokels who could be entertained for hours by even the most elementary feats of arcane prestidigitation! One might be tempted to blunt ones criticism of these people considering their frequent willingness to give up coin to her in exchange for a few hours of wide-eyed drooling stares over her parlor tricks. MIGHT, being the operative word, considering such a generous forgiveness of their intellect would be forced to be interspersed with the fact that at any given time, at least half of the wide-eyed drooling stares were focused more on her breasts than her feats of magic.

So no, Breland as a whole has, thus far, been barely sufferable and this university, focused mostly on fulfilling the desires of rich patrician sons to pretend they're intellectuals and providing, again, the wide-eyed drooling public shiny artifacts to stare at, certainly has a long way to go to redeeming what one can reasonably consider to be an unredeemable populace.


...Still, her insistence towards Aiden that this be their first stop in Sharn was turning out to be at least a modestly wise choice. They had only needed to spend a few hours in the university before Aisula was in possession of several tomes she was eager to begin study of. Aealnon, an elf that was, by all accounts, a tolerable person, had generously offered to show Aisula around the library of the university after revealing that he too was a wizard with a thirst for knowledge in areas very conveniently correlating with her own interests. Upon reflection, every single branch of study she suggested was met with enthusiastic agreement and a subsequent trip to the bookshelves where he would point out worthwhile books that tended to be on top shelves. Still, procuring a step ladder is a small price to pay for worthwhile reading and she was ultimately grateful to the blonde-haired elf, even after their meeting was brought to an abrupt end by Aiden as he curtly informed her of them leaving. Though disappointed, Aisula knew that they could ill afford an entire day's trip for academic pursuits and leaving the university was perfectly reasonable considering the amount of reading material she's amassed now, courtesy of Aealnon. Again though, upon reflection, it may have been Aealnon's guidance towards the history section and his insistence that she study a book on ancient elven erotica that prompted such a non-magical expeditious retreat... That's something to consider later though, since that book, along with six others will not read themselves.

Unfortunately the combination of a rainstorm and a... colorful diatribe in Goblin seem to be quite set on interrupting her concentration and huddling beneath Aiden's cloak is less than optimal for reading, even if having an excuse to be this close to him is... not unpleasant.

"I'm well enough, thanks in part to your efforts, Aiden." She states somewhat dryly as is her typical tone, while she smoothly bookmarks the treatise on arcane theory and slips it into her satchel. "Unfortunately, I don't think I'll be getting much reading done until we're in less danger of being randomly drenched by wind gusts."

Last edited by Krystianna; Aug 25th, 2012 at 10:38 AM.
Reply With Quote
  #8  
Old Aug 25th, 2012, 06:10 PM
LupusRegalis's Avatar
LupusRegalis LupusRegalis is offline
Boojahideen
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: May 18th, 2020
RPXP: 6905
LupusRegalis LupusRegalis LupusRegalis LupusRegalis LupusRegalis LupusRegalis LupusRegalis LupusRegalis LupusRegalis LupusRegalis LupusRegalis
Posts: 3,875
"Nearly three decades, it's been. Darguun mercenaries have been a staple of Brelish commerce for much of that. If anyone has the right to hate us, it's the Cyrians, not the Brelish." Dagular comments loud enough for the man to hear, while trying to shake some of the rain-water off himself (poorly). His speech, bound by goblinoid though it might be, is noticeably of better quality this time. "I would not be surprised to find it all of Elvish origin, the poor treatment."

"Silly Elfsis thinkin they be betterer than us'n lowly Gobberz!" He says as he turns around and eyes the man, sizing him and his companion up. His common is horrendous this time around, the worst impression of a goblins broken dialect possible, and very sarcastic. He's about to continue, but is interrupted as yet another wayward traveler exits the storm and enters their awareness. A small grin shows his canines as the traveler collides with the mage who'd not bothered to answer him. Dagular guffaws with a hearty laugh, only slightly disappointed that the two men didn't completely bowl each other over.

"Why, there's the problem," Dagular exclaims, still laughing "the silly lad is blind. Who let him off the leash?! In a glorified library no less."
__________________
'Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force'.
~ Jedi Code, prior to Odan-Urr's Teachings
Reply With Quote
  #9  
Old Aug 25th, 2012, 10:31 PM
mad_gondsman's Avatar
mad_gondsman mad_gondsman is offline
dad_gondsman
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: May 3rd, 2021
RPXP: 27632
mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman
Posts: 9,759
Once the common-looking blind man has exited the establishment, there is a loud CLACK as if a bolt has been thrown, securing the door from re-entry. Shades are dropped and lights are quickly extinguished, almost angrily, as the proprietor sealing the bookstore looks at you all with suspicion from behind a dark window before snapping shut a curtain and retreating from the door.

The intermittent flashes of lighting continue to play with the shadows as the cubbyhole which serves as a doorway becomes increasingly crowded. A particularly stiff sidewards wind beats the canvas awning like a drum, spattering and tearing at the pages of your books as if the storm objects to your trying to read under such circumstances.

A moment later, there is a fierce whistling from overhead, and glancing up, you see a luminescent blue ring moving across the sky. A bolt of lightning reveals the silhouette of a sleek ship within the ring, cruising between the towers. You may have heard stories of the Half-elves, but not necessarily the offspring of a human and elven union. They breed as their own race and are recognized as such.Khorovar men and women of House Lyrandar who bear the Mark of Storm, which grants them power over the weather as well as the ability to control such vessels. You imagine that tonight would pose a test for even the most gifted of such individuals.

The minutes pass as you continue to wait, though it may seem as if the winds are gradually lessening. Looking out across the void, which is but a dozen yards from your position, the rain seems to fall more-or-less along a vertical axis now, as opposed to swirling in violent circles as it was earlier. Perhaps a little while longer and you each can be on your way...
__________________
Tentatively getting back to it...

Become a Community Supporter! | Art of the Two Paragraph Post

Last edited by mad_gondsman; Aug 25th, 2012 at 10:56 PM. Reason: Fix.
Reply With Quote
  #10  
Old Aug 26th, 2012, 12:02 AM
asura8 asura8 is offline
Star Gazing Nerd
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: May 5th, 2021
RPXP: 6277
asura8 asura8 asura8 asura8 asura8 asura8 asura8 asura8 asura8 asura8 asura8
Posts: 3,021
Another man stumbles into the limited protection that the storefront offers and for that brief moment, Aiden's hand finds itself on the hilt of his blade, almost as ready to draw it as the lightning dances along his fingertips briefly. A moment later, he has removed his hand and crosses his arms once more. Just another traveler seeking shelter from the storm, but it reminds him all too much of the arrow in the shoulder from what feels like so long ago. He listens to the hobgoblin, snorting a little at his use of common in response to the talk of elven treatment of him and his kind.

”Mercenaries tend not to get the same respect as a normal person, unless you happen to be the kind with a mark on your body... though as goblin, that might well cause more problems.” As the storm starts to at least blow less viciously and the rain falls less horizontally, he moves to allow Aisula a little more clearance out into the open at the cost of less protection from the storm. He muses to himself, wondering how Aisula shall respond to the insult on elves, however slight it might be. He did not quite know how much that heritage mattered to her; there were many types of elves in Eberron and she certainly would not make the cut for the type to run around slicing things up, at least.

”Blindness is not always a problem to the types of people you find near Morgave University. I hear there are monks who can fight without ever taking off a blindfold.” He takes a moment and glances over the man, deciding immediately from the looks that he was, in fact, not a monk. ”Though he does not look quite the type for such work.” As the storm starts to calm at least a little, he glances at the sight of that glowing blue ring moving across the sky. It was rather impressive that House Lyrandar would keep on business despite this weather. Apparently, even the slightest delay would be a problem for them.

”At least once the storm is over, there can be a nice warm fire to look forward to...” he mutters out, mostly to himself and Aisula. After all, a nice warm blanket in front of a fire would be a nice matter to wrap up work for the day. It was just a shame that the cost of living in Sharn was so much higher than out in the small towns.
Reply With Quote
  #11  
Old Aug 26th, 2012, 02:50 AM
Saratek's Avatar
Saratek Saratek is offline
Not a Doctor
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: May 17th, 2021
RPXP: 15530
Saratek Saratek Saratek Saratek Saratek Saratek Saratek Saratek Saratek Saratek Saratek
Posts: 11,544
Nikolai’s face turned slightly due to the hobgoblin’s seemingly hilarious, well hilarious to him at least, observation of the smith. He gave the goblin a look of annoyed bewilderment pondering how the man could be so dense. Letting it go, his face softened to its normal even demeanor as storm around the huddled mass seemed to burst into a fury for a moment. When the gust came and ripped a page out of Nikolai’s book, he reached out and snatched the page out of the air with very little effort, adding probably more confusion to those that were wondering what a seemingly blind man was doing coming out of a bookstore.

As the storm began to ease a bit after its surge, it was apparent to the man that the others were taking in the sight of something in the distance that mystified them a bit. Looking out to what he could only guess was the direction they were looking, his sight never made it past the group, the horizon a complete blur of muddled grey from the swirl of colors that all blurred together. A moment of depression set in as Nikolai realized that while it was such a fantastic journey to be here in such a city, there was so much beauty he couldn’t enjoy because of the curse upon him. Gifts were never truly free, and his hindered vision was the cost for all the power he was capable of.

The conversation of the obnoxiously dressed man brought Nikolai back to reality as he commented on several things, including the smith’s blindness. The talk of a warm fire was soothing to the young man, but just as Aiden was thinking, Nikolai’s own mind dreaded the thought of how much it was going to cost, or where even to go, for him to stay in the city. Cities were always more expensive than other places, and a city like Sharn might literally cost a man his leg for a warm bed and a hot fire. Still there was little Nikolai could add to the conversation, so he stayed quiet, taking note of those around them, but also pondering if it was safe to go back to his book or not. The weather didn’t bother him all that much, but with rough it had been minutes ago, he didn’t want to take the chance of leaving the cover of the awning in case the storm should surge again.
__________________
A common mistake that people make when trying to design something completely foolproof is to underestimate the ingenuity of complete fools.~Douglas Adams
Current Status: Playing Catch-Up
Reply With Quote
  #12  
Old Aug 26th, 2012, 11:50 AM
LupusRegalis's Avatar
LupusRegalis LupusRegalis is offline
Boojahideen
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: May 18th, 2020
RPXP: 6905
LupusRegalis LupusRegalis LupusRegalis LupusRegalis LupusRegalis LupusRegalis LupusRegalis LupusRegalis LupusRegalis LupusRegalis LupusRegalis
Posts: 3,875
Dagular za'Khael

left-aligned image
Dagular raises his head along with the others as a fierce whistling breaks through even this storms noise. He stops his heckling at the same time as a look of wonder crosses his wet fuzzy face. The airship's blue ring cuts through the stormy night like a light-house sending a beacon out to sea. His face tracks the ships movements, and almost as if unable to stop himself he says "There'll come a day when I'll own an airship myself...the places I could go...the things that I would do...The Power it would represent. Ah, no tribe of Darguun could field a force as swiftly..."

He abruptly stops talking, but he still watches the airship pass by through the storm. He cannot seem to take his eyes off of the vessel. Even the slight lessening of the storm does not register to the daydreaming hobgoblin. This small glimpse of his motives does however give some small measure of the Hobgoblin himself. Though perhaps it shows some of his naivety as well. Could not the Lhesh Huraac afford a few for his own forces, or at the very least the hiring of vessels for specific use. But maybe not, perhaps the Houses would balk at providing the Darguuni airships, and maybe Dagular would face a similar prospect trying to obtain one for himself. Legally, at any rate.
__________________
'Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force'.
~ Jedi Code, prior to Odan-Urr's Teachings
Reply With Quote
  #13  
Old Aug 26th, 2012, 02:07 PM
Arucard's Avatar
Arucard Arucard is offline
Vampire Cat
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Dec 25th, 2020
RPXP: 19247
Arucard Arucard Arucard Arucard Arucard Arucard Arucard Arucard Arucard Arucard Arucard
Posts: 10,379
Melanchton looked up from his book in surprise as the rough voice cut through the crowd, accompanied by a physically imposing figure doing the same. Was that goblin? he wondered, thinking he recognized the accent on some of the words. Eyes widened and mouth agape, the question was confirmed beyond all doubt when the large, well-armed creature forced its way into his line of sight. Melanchton's studies had not lead him into encountering many hobgoblins up close and person, and for the briefest of moments, his line of thought left him.

"Ah," he began, the first syllable in what would have no-doubt been a stammering reply in the warrior's native tongue, when he was saved the discomfort by one of another type entirely. Grasping for his book and staff frantically before either hit the wet ground, the priest stood aright with furrowed brow to face whoever had so unceremoniously threatened to bowl him over.

His features softened considerably when he perceived the nature of the individual in front of him. "My.. apologies." said the ecclesiastic, his own eyes looking carefully over those of the newcomer. Is he blind? Perhaps just impaired... hm. he considered, spotting the book in his hands. Placing his own tome within his robe - blasted wind - Melanchton found his attention forcibly redirected to his surroundings, and the rather colorful collection of people assembled. A physically fit human man with his hand on his blade seemed to have drawn the attention of the hobgoblin away for the moment, much to Melanchton's relief. Beside him stood an elven woman with an impressive collection of reading materials. He wasn't certain in this lighting, but he thought he had spied her in the library halls before...

When his attention was drawn from his book to his surroundings, Melanchton handled it with relative grace and calm. When his attention was drawn from his surroundings to the skies, however, an audible "Wow." escaped his throat undeterred. It was not the first airship he had seen since being in Sharn, though they never failed to impress... but to pilot one in this storm? The young man was an avid connoisseur of skills, and that was an extremely impressive display thereof.
__________________
Haunting the forums like a memory, lingering like the aroma of old socks.

Want a new avatar? CLICK HERE!
Reply With Quote
  #14  
Old Aug 27th, 2012, 10:29 PM
mad_gondsman's Avatar
mad_gondsman mad_gondsman is offline
dad_gondsman
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: May 3rd, 2021
RPXP: 27632
mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman mad_gondsman
Posts: 9,759
As you all huddle beneath the awning, chatting and peeking out regularly to gauge the intensity of the storm or predict a break that will allow you to make a run for dryer pastures, you first hear a regular thok coming from around the bend. Before long, a miserably drenched fellow with a staff ambles into view, a spotted, old, wrinkled hand pulling his cloak tightly about his neck. The gesture would seem to do little, as he's probably soaked to the bone, but that does not stop him from nodding amiably to you all as he hurries past. Those of you who the night does not render blind may even notice a smile from underneath his cowl as he continues a hasty, old-man trot towards the nearest bridge. Although the winds have died down substantially, the rain does not relent, and within moments his silhouette disappears into the stormy night.

Several moments more and the deluge finally begins to fade, returning to a display of nature which you are accustomed to and much more comfortable with. While the rain still falls and the wind gusts, you no longer feel that the strange forces that surround Sharn are out to kill you. In the distance, you can clearly make out the skybridge that links Dalannan Tower to the Kelsa Spire, where a covered lift to the lower city can be found. The everbright lanterns can now be made out through the lighter rains, lighting the way...

DMThe narrow skybridge is perhaps 50 yards from the bookstore where you huddle.

__________________
Tentatively getting back to it...

Become a Community Supporter! | Art of the Two Paragraph Post

Last edited by mad_gondsman; Aug 27th, 2012 at 10:46 PM. Reason: Added info.
Reply With Quote
  #15  
Old Aug 27th, 2012, 11:04 PM
Arucard's Avatar
Arucard Arucard is offline
Vampire Cat
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Dec 25th, 2020
RPXP: 19247
Arucard Arucard Arucard Arucard Arucard Arucard Arucard Arucard Arucard Arucard Arucard
Posts: 10,379
Melanchton smiled to the elderly man with a deferential lowering of the head. He was unable to see his features in the darkness, but it was a matter of course for the young priest to respect his elders; the various indignities those within the Silver Flame had heaped upon him notwithstanding. When the storm began to die down, the priest's first instinct was to retrieve his book from the inside of his garb and resume reading. When the lightning flashed, however, another matter seized his attention.

Eyes narrowing, Melanchton leaned forward past his staff so that its light would not prejudice his vision. Was that what it looked like? he wondered quietly, studying the dark area on the bridge where he thought he had seen a skulking figure moments before. His question was more out of curiosity than concern, truth be known. He had no evidence it was aiming to intercept the elderly gentleman who had just passed, and if it was a truly shady character, it was hardly a rarity.

In fact, Melanchton's arrival in Sharn had educated the inexperienced priest rather quickly as to the dangers of the streets. Even now beneath his pale robes he donned a leather armor-piece, and his prepared spell was one he had never had occasion to consider before his arrival; an incantation to turn his staff into a formidable weapon. He had planned for this trip to the bookstore today - storm notwithstanding - with the very idea of potentially unfriendly encounters in the back of his mind. A few days before his arrival in Sharn, the cleric would have called a warning - ran after the elderly man just on the off chance he would be in danger. Pragmatism won the day, however, as doing so for every suspicious figure on the street would quickly wear one's breath out.

But this wasn't the street, was it? The realization that he had not before seen such suspicious actions in the actual towers caused Melanchton to re-examine his initial disinterest. Stepping forward through the crowd to get a better look, the man surrendered to his limitations in the darkness and turned to the others gathered. "Did... did anyone else see something over there when the lightning flashed?" he asked uncertainly, raising his still-lit staff tip as a pointer to the area in question.
__________________
Haunting the forums like a memory, lingering like the aroma of old socks.

Want a new avatar? CLICK HERE!

Last edited by Arucard; Aug 27th, 2012 at 11:10 PM.
Reply With Quote
Reply

Thread Tools

Posting Rules
You may not post new threads
You may not post replies
You may not post attachments
You may not edit your posts

BB code is On
Smilies are On
[IMG] code is On
HTML code is Off



All times are GMT -4. The time now is 01:43 AM.
Skin by Birched, making use of original art by paiute.(© 2009-2012)


RPG Crossing, Copyright ©2003 - 2021, RPG Crossing Inc; powered by vBulletin, Copyright ©2000 - 2021, Jelsoft Enterprises Ltd. Template-Modifications by TMB