[DMZ]Faerun RP "The Path of Gold"

[Kostvel]

Kostvel stared form side to side, shuffling slightly with the disorganized crowd. He wasn't sure how it happened, but he had ended up heading into a much more cowded street than before. It wasn;t that Kostvel hated crowds, he just hated not knowing where to go. And on the street he was currently on, he had no idea. Also tending to the fact that as far as Kostvel could see, none of the shops had signs clearly demarking their trades, or wares.

Pushing to the side he tried to listen in on the venders yelling out their wares but couldn't quite pick up what they were saying over the others. The fact also that to him everyone here seemed to speak in some wierd clipped accent diminished his capacaty to recognize a few critical words as well. He was in a way still used to the slow rumbling speech of an Athkatlan, and assumed that he must sound as foreign to people here as they did to him.

Walking through the crowd he kept his head on a swivel to take in as much as possible. He felt a litlle like he was wearing a great helm, as he was constanly looking around much like the Athkatla's Charval Knights. Becuase of the limited vison of the helms the knights would always be swiveling their heads round and round on the battlfield, to try and locate enemies near thier field of vision. He smirked slightly. Although they did offer you the best protection, you looked kind of stupid.

Plus with thier huge plume of horsehair and feathers, they earned themselves the nickname "peacock knights" from Kostvel's company. Not that Kostvel would say that to a Charval, as they were still some of the best fighters.
He felt a little odd standing in the crowd, leaning slightly on his halberd.

People automatically gave him a fair berth here, even though he wasn't a noble or anything. He obviously was a foreigner to their city, clearly denoted by the amount of dust and wear on his clothes. People here weren't all dressed in silks and finery, but they all did wear well fitted, and clean garments.

In a way Kostvel liked Assam in that people could wear clothes as such. Almost everyone not a noble or a sailor wore chainmail or leathers in Athkatla. Which was mostly a trait learned the hard way through quite a few wars and strife.

Looking around once more aroudn the busy stalls lining the side of the street, he tried to brush some of the rough grit from the road of his surcoat. He knew he should be looking around for a smith and a cobbler, but he didn't really know where to even start.

Hearing his name called over the general din of the crown he stiffened his back in a momentary stance of attention before relaxing as soon as he realized it was Aya the elf lady from the inn. Years of conditioning had taight him that if you hear your last name, and officer wanted something, and although his mind recognized that he wouldn't have to stand to attention really anymore, his body didn't forget as easily.

"Don't do that." He replied with a small smile back at Aya. "Makes me think your an officer. You can just call me Kostvel, it woudld be easier on my mind if you do so." Pausing for a moment to cosider her offer he nodded slightly. "Sure, if you can help me find a cobbler first. my feet are killing me." he said, indicating his rather worn and ratty boots.

[DMZ]

"Move you maggots! We still have three quarters of castle wall to run through before lunch! On my mark, commence singing like your life depends on it!" Lath ran behind a small troop of city guards, the newly graduated recruits from the academy. Their first run was around the city walls, which happened to pass through the market. For this occasion their armour was loaded with bags of sand to bring their total weight to about twice their own, making sure they could run and fight with any equipment. Lath himself wore a comfortable outfit that allowed full freedom of movement in expense of protection. He wasn't even sweating from running several miles. He had undergone similar training before and knew what benefits it gave. The troop started singing after he waved his hand:
"We are the finest to have ever lived,"
"Our wives have never grieved!
"We will shield this awesome city,
And we'll do it with no pity!"
"No one here can doubt this,
Anyone who does will end up in the abyss!"
The group passed many travelers and the crowd respectfully stepped apart to allow them through. The shopkeepers were cheering as the recruits passed them, shouting phrases ushc as "Free food for the winner!" and "I have some money on you son, don't ruin it for me!" to entice the race. Among the crowd Lath noticed a familiar face. The soldier from the Inn. He was accompanied by an elf, who also looked familiar but not from there. Lath nodded and smiled to the soldier as he and his troop passed them, saluting the fellow warrior.

At about the same time, three market criers got the same message, and started crying it out loud:
"Hear ye, hear ye! Lady Kath is organizing a tournament today for all you brave warriors, to be battled out in the arena of the Armament section. The prize for the winner will be a finely crafted suit of armour made by the dwarves of Tethyamar and a kiss by the lady herself! The tournament is sponsored by your very own Isla Nookskin and Humar Bravekrest! Only today you may enter this one of a kind event and take your chance to win an exclusive suit of armour! Apply now, there are only twenty slots availible, and only today!"

[Vietmyke]

Atelar headed rather directly to the Living & Comfort 'section', looking to buy some new clothes to wear, as his were obviously quite worn and tattered. Atelar looked at his tattered clothes again, and then at the fancy linens of those around him, and started feeling only a bit self conscious, as he felt the stares of the noblemen on him. The noblemen were obviously suspicious of this rather raggedly dressed boy, in most places, he would look like a thief, because in fact, he was a thief, and while Atelar could not actually see them, he could feel the eyes of several security archers burning holes in his back where their arrows would land should he decide to do something sneaky.

This encouraged Atelar to pick up his pace. Not so much that the security would think he's making a break for it and shoot him, but best not give them any reason to either. Atelar quickly brushed his way through the crowd, ignoring the occasional protest or cry of outrage, or demands of 'come back here you knave!' as he accidentally knocked over a small box of pigments all over a noble. One particularly fat noble went so far as to block his path, so he could give 'the little rouge' a stern talking to. The fat man was so large in the crowd, that Atelar could not easily shove past the man, who had annoyed him so much that Atelar was almost tempted to draw his knife on the man.

Finally, Atelar had decided he had grown quite annoyed by the man. Inconspicuously reaching into the depths of his tattered cloak, Aden drew a gold coin, and a few silvers out of his pocket, and dropped them at an area Aden hoped to be under the fat man's wallet. The coins made a loud clinking sound against the stone floor and the noble immediately looked down to see what this source of money sounding objects was. Atelar shoved past the man and kept going at a much faster pace. When Atelar decided he was far enough, he looked up and conveniently saw the sign of a small clothing shop overhead. Atelar took a step back and quickly slipped into the small boutique.

The shop was a small little store, with various rolls of expensive fabric, and a few already made pieces of clothing, also moderately expensive. It had a very colorful look, as the store could obviously afford to be decorated by various expensive pigments. Sitting behind a small table was a very well dressed, quite small, very bored looking, little man. The little man looked up as Atelar walked into the store, and snorted derisively. "We don't serve your kind here." The little man said arrogantly, possibly implying Atelar's thief like appearance, or the fact that Atelar did not look like he had a lot of money.

Atelar took a quick furtive glance behind him, and to his relief, the windows were well covered by clothing and curtains, and no one could see into the windows. Atelar took a few intimidating steps towards the small man at his table, brushing his cloak aside to reveal his heavy dagger. The small man took a little gulp and shrank in his chair. Atelar closed his cloak and made a show of reaching in, making the little man whimper even more. Atelar pulled out his heavy money sack, and loosened the top, and threw it on top of the table the little man was attempting to use as a shield. The sack landed on the table with a firm, heavy, smack and leaned over a little, tipping out a few gold coins. The little man's eyes were immediately riveted to the sack of gold, before he looked suspiciously up at the ragged looking thief.

"Now," Atelar said amiably, "Lets talk some buisness, shall we?"

[DMZ]

The shopkeeper looked at the small elf like he was made of pure gold after the sack with coins dropped onto the counter. The small elf was about the size of the shopkeeper himself, and really didn't look like he was loaded with coin. Despite that, when Kis saw the purse and the gold coins on his counter he immediately changed to merchant mode:
"How may I serve you dear sir? Perhaps some silk undergarments? Or a new cloak for milord? Finest quality south of Dragonmere!" Kis zipped around the shop, showing off various clothes and cloaks, eagerly awaiting a response.

Not too far from there the merchant was utterly shocked at seeing that...thing. It didn't resemble anything he had ever seen, the shopkeeper was ready to call the guards. When the strange creature started speaking the merchant's hart almost stopped. He pointed in the general direction of the Luxury and Comfort department, his hands shaking from fear, his mouth unable to to open.

[Card VII]

The merchant was very clearly scared of him. He showed no reaction whatsoever to the merchant's fear, as reasoning with fear isn't always effective when you were exactly what the person in question is afraid of.

"Thank you for your time." Centum briefly said as he turned and strode out of the armory store. He stepped out into the city crowd, constantly moving and shifting to where they needed to go. He weaved through many frightened people before he made it to the Luxury and Comfort area of the market.

"Perhaps I could find myself a horse to ride here as well." Centum thought about how much money he had. He really didn't need much, just a horse that could carry him and a few things that he might find along the way. In the expansive Luxury and Comfort section, he found a modest store that seemed to sell simple goods, rather than large furniture. He cautiously entered the store, attempting to seem as inconspicuous as possible. Which wasn't very inconspicuous.

As he entered the small shop, hostile or at least suspicious stares followed him around the room. Whether one thought he was an abomination to be destroyed, or a shady character up to no good, the constant was always an underlying fear.

He found a small desk with a merchant behind it. He walked up and asked "Would you happen to sell bags? Nothing fancy, just something to carry things in?" Centum tried his best to sound normal as he spoke, but the echo of the dead in his voice didn't exactly give off a soothing vibe.

[Blu]

"What's wrong?" The merchant looked to his guard. Like all elves, the guard was beautiful, slender, and lithe, holding an elven bow, her hand continuously nearing her quiver. The expression was visible even in moon light. Worry. Doubt. Her gaze kept shifting to the tall grasses of the plains nearby.

"It's..." She hesitated. Had she seen something? Was it wind, or beast, that moved the grasses nearby? "It's nothing." But was it? She kept trying to keep watch, but she could not get a lock on anything alive.

Behind them, five wagons of supplies were being pulled by strong hearted mules. A mercenary stood on each side of the caravan, with their ranger leader at the head. Assam was a good four miles ahead of them. Their arrival was later than they expected, but they were happy to get there before dawn. The two mercenaries on the side were overly eager. Their guard was dropped. They were thinking only of ale and tavern winches. The ranger was more focused.

Rotzie grinned. Perfect.

In a blinding flash, a large figure leaped from the grass, lunging just over top of the mules, tackling the mercenary on the far side, rolling and dragging him into the grass. Before he could even get a cry out, he was gone. His comrade's nerve was lost, as he frantically cried out to alert the ranger.

A feral beast stuck it's head out of the grass. With uncanny accuracy and speed, the ranger took out and arrow and put it right between it's head. But in all her experience, she forgot a basic concept. A feint. When she returned to the front, her employer, the merchant, was missing.

Rotzie licked his chops, the man's body slung into his own wagon carelessly. Fear. The greatest ally any hunter could have. He could smell it on them, the man's hands tremoring as he held his weapon. The female's will was a stone wall that was being taken down by small tremors and cracks.

Rotzie reached under the wagon, and grabbed the man. He screamed to his captain, "Auuugh! Save me!" He gripped onto the wheel, but a strike from a clawed hand loosened his grip. A trail of dirt and blood lead into the grass, but did not lead out.

The elf's was no longer brave. Her face showed noticable fear. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the bow, turning in all directions to look for him. All, but the right one. Lurched on top of the wagon above her, Rotzie chuckled as blood and drool dripped down onto her head. When she looked up, before she could draw an arrow, he gripped her neck in his clawed hands.

Her eyes went wide as she stared at him. She saw him, the large werewolf in silver armor, but what she was really seeing was her life flashing before her eyes. He gripped her neck, and squeezed, staring down at her as he watched the fight drain out of her.

But he didn't kill her. He didn't kill any of them. The merchant feinted at the sight of him. The other two, he knocked out. Blood was expensive. Spilling it carelessly could cause issues.

He robbed them of everything. The weapons and armor of both men, the goods and gold carried by the merchant, and the elven woman's bow and armor. He left them with nothing but their lives. But that was enough. Robbed, there would be increased guards. But if they had been found dead, there would be investigations. Questions. And Rotzie didn't want those. Not now.

Because he had a bigger catch he was after. Richer prey lied in Assam. And he was coming for them. When they least expected it.

[DMZ]

Dargar looked over the counter and saw this weightless and lifeless form standing before him, asking whether he sold packs. He sighed, having hoped not to meet yet another undead after that last one nearly wrecked his shop with that helmet. Dargar looked up to the ghost before him, being about half the entity's length:
"Yes, I do sell leather packs. Question is, why would you need one? Ask yer mates down there to hold on for dear life and suspend the items you need with magic. Seems fair enough to me. Or, if you like a little more comfort, I have a few pouches over here in various sizes and colours. For the smallest one you'll pay 9 silvers and it can hold a head's worth. The largest one will cost you 47 silvers and can hold you in its entirety if properly streched."

[Card VII]

"I'll take the largest bag you have, please." Centum said. For a price of only 47 silvers, he figured it would be best to be on the safe side. Centum had never been outside of Assam in quite some time, let alone go out adventuring. He wasn't quite sure what to expect of the journey he was about to take. Centum had reached into his pocket to find that all he had were gold pieces. His share from Glith, and the five he had for quite some time.

Centum pulled out one gold piece and dropped it onto the counter, and said "Keep the change. Also, would you know where I can find a horse merchant?" Centum felt something inside him as he told the small merchant to keep the change. Something very unfamiliar, yet familiar at the same time. He had not felt it for a long time, yet he had known the feeling for as long as he could remember.

As he spoke with the merchant, he could tell he wasn't one to fear him, but more to hate him. As far as Centum was concerned, there were two types of people in the world. Those that feared him, and those that hated him. Him and everyone else in the world who weren't either of the two were in a very, very small minority.

[DMZ]

Dargar kept an eye on the strange visitor as he grabbed the largest pouch he found from his back shelf. It was a slightly worn pouch, but made from a very strong fabric, made out of horse hair and bear skin, giving it both extreme durability as good flexibility. This was not an ordinary pouch, but for the price that thing over there paid it would fit just right. Dargar walked back with the pouch and took the gold coin, hiding it away in his chest pocket. He looked at the cloaked figure:
"Yer not a bad sack 'o brains, are ye? What ye name be, stranger?" The dwarven merchant's face displayed a friendly smile, as opposing to a few moments ago. The question asked by this hooded collection of personalities did seem odd to Dargar, as he was sure these types of undead could wield powerful magic, even if they didn't know it. So why would this one want a horse? Dargar could only think of one explanation: he was nostalgic. That was the second time he had seen one in his shop, a nostalgic corpse. Except this one wasn't.....a corpse.
"Depending on how much ye want to part with there are several places. For something really expensive you should look at the Golden Horseshoe, a large establishment to the north of here. Impossible to miss. If it tickles ye fancy they can even give your colt golden teeth. As for the average priced part, a few dozen foot lengths from that is the "Silky Whip", which sells for anywhere between five and twenty gold. Good horses there. The sign is a crooked whip with seven tails. Other than that I don't know much at the moment. Oh wait! Me nephew is selling his former battle steed, Pelk, at his smithy in Armament. If ye aren't dirty with used horses you can buy him. Great horse that. Saved him time and time again. Still can't fathom why he wants to sell it. Must be his new love in the city...." Dargar caught himself drifting away and quickly turned the train of thought back on the business part." If ye want to look at that one, tell 'm that Dargar sent ya. That'll sweeten the deal a might." Checking all the information in his head again Dargar nodded satiated. He took out his checkbook and a pen to write the transaction, but hesitated to write. He glared back the figure:
"Might I ask what ye need a horse for? Yer not planning on eating him, are ya? Dargur will never forgive me if I tipped a horse eater about Pelk."

Glith strode into the O&M department, the guards still oogling him suspiciously after all this time. The shops were still open as the sun began to set, here and there still some customers arguing about how much a magic broom would cost. The place he was walking to had a round roof with a large cross at the very top, and double doors that seemed to never close. Glith thought about his past and present, sometimes wandering off into the future. A loud "bang" against his right leg interrupted the thought. A slightly less loud "thump" followed by a cloud of dust revealed, or rather his a small figure lying in front of him. The dust magically cleared up and Glith saw the boy who visited the Inn earlier. He seemed to have been knocked unconscious by the fall, opening his eyes the very moment Glith crouched.
"Gah! Get away!" the boy screamed, using hands and feet to crawl out under Glith's shadow. He stood up and reached to the kid with a glove, helping him stand up. The lad came to his senses and calmed down after seeing Glith's silhouette in the sun:
"Sorry sir! Don't know how I didn't see you."
"Don't worry, happens every now and then. Still planning to go on that big adventure of yours?" Glith sounded fairly ironic, towering above the chap with his arms crossed.
The boy doubted a little:
"Tis a large sum of money that was offered thar. Would help my padre get out of prison faster it would." The boy avoided looking into Glith's eye sockets, clearly not having enough courage to look at him yet.
Glith searched his chest pocket for his purse and dropped it onto the sandy pavement:
"Take what you need. Your mother won't be happy to wave you goodbye on adventure, it's better if you stay here."
The boy looked up in disbelief, but didn't hesitate to grab gold coins out of the sack until every single pocket and cranny was full with them. Mumbling a "thank you" he walked away, swinging from side to side under the weight.
Glith amused himself with the thought about the chances of they boy getting robbed outside the market and continued to walk towards the temple.

Once inside he stood and waited for the ceremony to end. There were a lot of people in the small temple and the female priest was chanting a prayer to Mystra. People stood up and mumbled their thanks to Mystra before leaving, giving Glith a wide berth as usual. He stepped forward towards the altar, to the priestess. She wasn't old enough to immediately be accepted for the Head Priestess, but her actions spoke truer than her words. Glith placed his right hand to where his heart would be is he were human and bowed before her. Not one one knee like everyone else, but standing up straight. The priestess looked at him and smiled complacently, resting her left arm on his shoulder. They stood like this for a few minutes, not a word or sound disturbing the silence. Any normal person walking in on this would have thought they prayed together, and that's exactly what it needed to look like.

The priestess opened her eyes and looked at the huge suit of armour:
"You cannot do this, Glith. She is too far and there is no way, even for you or me. If the world splits and you are able to accomplish it, there will be another feud between you and your brother. Radiance and Darkness are not to be messed with." Her words didn't sound like a warning, more like a suggestion. Glith pulled out his sword and held it before her, lighting up the inscription:
"She is right here. And this time I found a way to do it properly." His eyes started to shine, lighting up in the same yellow-white colour the inscription glowed with. The engravings on the armour lit up after the eyes, all centering on the sword before them. "I can do this. And if he doesn't like it, he can talk it out with me."
"Talk it out like the last time? When you two created the Troubles? You know how much effort went into covering and repairing that? Not to mention the fact every single deity was displeased with your actions. You cannot allow everything that happens to you influence what you do. It's not the way you live and die. It's not the way they do." She nodded towards the entrance.
He sighed:
"Mother, you tell me this every single time, yet every time it's not as you foretold or as I saw. It's different now." The woman smiled with a sad smile, pulling her long black hair behind her back:
"And every time you say that about someone else. Why corrupt that fine group with gold? It's true enough that not all are of this world and are already corrupted by greed, but you're only making it worse. Think about that on your way there." The priestess turned around and disappeared without a trace.

Glith stood still, shocked by the reaction:
"But Mother!"

*colt: horse

[Vietmyke]

Atelar replied to the man rather simply,

"I want new everything," Atelar replied, "New pants, new shirt, new cloak, a rucksack, the works."

Atelar stood there, almost amused as the little man scurried about here and there, showing him various clothes and cloaks and objects made for the purpose of wearing, proclaiming loudly their quality and finesse. He was certainly not the grouchy store keeper from a moment ago. Atelar stood as the merchant showed him a variety of pants. There were tights and leggings, which Atelar turned down immediatly, with no room for bargaining. There were soft, silky pants, made of various light colored silks and cloths. Also a wide selection of tough and meant to be worked cloth pants, of various thickness, colors, and flexibility. This store in particular, apparently had a tendency or liking of bright and gaudy colors. Colors that would no doubt needlessly draw attention to himself. While these colors were indeed quite eye pleasing, Atelar's old thief instincts told him that such flashyness would inevitabbly lead to his being mugged on the streets. As he was after all, or rather slight build, he seemed like an easy target, as his prowress of the magical arts were not visible to the naked eye or a brute. In the end, Atelar selected a pair of thick cloth pants, colored a shiny black, that hung loosely around his legs.

Moving on to shirts, the merchant ran about in a similar fashion, offering shirts of various cuts, sizes, colors and styles, whilst bragging about their quality. Atelar silently closed his ears off to the small merchant's rambling as he merely eyed each piece of clothing. He finally stopped the blabbing merchant when the merchant showed him a simple, light blue shirt, with a slight V in the neck. The merchant was a little hesitant to sell this, as it was quite simple, plain, un-gaudy, and cheap. The merchant reluctantly moved onto cloaks, once again parading around in his usual fashion, showing off his various fashions. Atelar's eye was caught by a thick, deep blue, hoodless coat sort of cloak (I'm trying to imitate the character picture), that had a dark gray liner-like cloak underneath, that did sport a hood. Atelar indulged himself once again, when his eye caught a plain, light gray scarf. Which he promptly bought and exchanged with his ragged one. Atelar bought a simple, regular sized rucksack of nice quality from the man before he finally paid his dues, a lot steeper than he had expected.

Atelar checked his gold pouch, to ensure that he still had a sizable sum. Not quite as large now, as he had probably burned through 3/4s of the gold he had recieved from Glith, but that would probably be enough to pay for a quick visit to the armory. Stepping back onto the streets, freshly clad in his new duds, Atelar walked off at a brisk pace towards the weapon and armor section of the city.