In the bustling city of Porthsmouth, there were certain workshops scattered all over the urban wild. From these shops one would hear joyous whoops, cries of surprise or confusion, and the occasional small explosion. We now focus on a cozy little wooden structure not too far from the famous harbor. Look past the weather-battered wooden doors, and you would see a man - if it wasn't for his approximate size of three foot seven - working on the insides of what seemed to be a metal humanoid double his size. Surrounding him were strange contraptions stuffed with cogs and miniature steam pipes, all in the same tone of brown, yellow and grey. A half-eaten loaf of bread and a rusted toolbox lay by his side.
"Hmm.. hoom... aha!" The gnome's shoulders, still buried in the robot's torso, extended a gloved hand that felt around until it came to rest on a stray cog.
"Let's see... hmm. Aagh!"
The hand reached out again, and reeled in a small hammer. Three unruly bangs resounded from inside the machine.
"Ah. Better. Much better." There was a sound of a click, but the gnome struggled to pull his head back out.
"Confounded apparatus!" After a strained groan, the gnome's face appeared. His face was black with soot and his beard was now almost night black. One might have assumed this was his original hair color, if it were not for the streaks of hazel brown. His blue tunic was now ruined, but he didn't seem to care. Suddenly, a miniature bell somewhere rang and two figures walked in - a boy and his mother. The gnome attempted to dust off his sooted face, and put on his most salesman smile. "Good morning, Madame! Is there anything that you fancy?" The gnome gestured towards the rows of clockwork contraptions adorning the walls. The child seemed to take an interest in a peculiar miniature - it modeled a playground, with robotic-looking children looking much akin to the enormous one that the gnome had just previously worked on. The gnome winded the miniature up, and the children began playing ball, going on swings, see-sawing, and the like. "But that's not all." The gnome absentmindedly conjured up a small display of fireworks. The clockwork children looked up from their games in wonder, then after some time they whooped, cheered and clapped. However, the mother had watched the gnome's display of an arcane act and glared at him in disgust. She then huffily took the child, wrapped her arm protectively around his shoulders, then proceeded to hastily exit the workshop. The gnome looked at the fireworks, then his gloved hands. He clutched them to his bosom, muttering a curse against himself for yet again driving away another human. Bloody Broken Wand and Gilded Cross and their shenanigans. Why was it so important? He sighed and proceeded to re-enter the large robot's torso.

Sleeth sat within his family manor, listening to the constant bickering. Ridician households held many families that acted as one to the outside world making it seemed as though they were incest when brothers married sisters though in truth there were eight families within the large manor and since marriage didn't exist to them, being technical in-laws didn't stop them from breeding again. Sleeth however had no interest bin this system. Though he was honor bound to one day return to bear a child of pure Ridician blood, he had a long time to go and explore, and give him a break from the pestering.

In a household of his kind he was average looking, the high cheeks and full lips were common amongst all of his people but to a human they could be masterpieces to rival the Elves. However he didn't particularly like humans all that much. If not for his speed, agility and masterful practice of the martial arts they had passed down he'd have little appeal as anything but necessity to keep the blood flowing.

He fastened his cloak that proudly bore his family crest on one shoulder and his households on another. He stepped out into the streets, they didn't believe in good byes, those were for suicide missions. Leaving without word was a promise to come back or die. With his blades fastened to his back along with several concealed knives and a pouch of coins for board he set out. He hadn't been outside of the walls in years, and had to go and get his papers so he'd be allowed back in the city. Surely he wouldn't need them but it was to be on the safe side. Last time there were new guards at the gates who didn't recognize him and he had to wait until the shifts changed to go home.

Lance stood up and checked he had all his gear on content he had not forgotten anything he began to move to Porthsmouth he had gotten to the island yesterday and decided to explore before going into Porthsmouth "first I should find an inn when I get there" he thought 3 hours later he had reached Porthsmouth the city was amazing there were large tower with steam coming out of them and thousands of people buying from shops every one looked content but them he remember he had to fined an inn.

Silvana stood quietly at the bar table looking at all the men and women who were in her mother's tavern there was a drunken male human sitting in a corner looking at her and then started talking to another one who was sitting across from him. "Half elves shouldn't even be working in a bar they should be in some really cheap brothel where they belong." He said drunkenly laughing at his comment, it was a common day at the Portsmouth Tavern her mother built several years ago which her mother got enough money to start it from her father who didn't want to have anything to do with her. Silvana grabbed a pitcher of mead and headed over to their table to refill their glasses, when Silvana was close enough she started to pour them another.

The man grabbed Silvana by the wrist looking her up and down and smirked. "How about you please me in another way like the wench you are huh?" He said with a laugh that comment made Silvana angry and grabbed the knife from their table and quickly stabbed his hand into the table. He cried out in agony as she twisted the knife in his hand and leaned forward whispering into his ear. "Suggest you get that checked out, and another comment like that i'll make sure you." She then took her foot and kicked him in the crotch. "Wont have babies again." Finishing her comment before ripping the knife from his hand and threw it into the wall the blade of it sticking into the wood.

After that the two drunk men quickly went out of the tavern, Elinoa her mother came out from the back just in time to see the scene ending and the two men stumbling out of her tavern. "Hun is that even necessary?" Her mother asked speaking in elvish so that anyone who didn't know the language wouldn't listen in. "What did you expect, they are like the other drunks who make a comment about what I am." Silvana said sounding irritated as she went to grab the knife imbedded in the wall yanking it out easily and handed it to her mother she noticed a small amount of blood on it. "We will lose more customers if you keep acting like this." Elinoa said, Silvana ignoring the comment headed back towards the bar area.

Lance had been walking around Porthsmouth when he saw two presumably drunk men stumbling out of a building, he walked a bit further to see that the building was a tavern finally he thought he opened the door and saw what at first glance looked like a elf women standing there assuming she worked there she "excuse me but can I rent a room here".

Elinoa turned to look at Lance as he entered her tavern and smiled softly at him, and waved Silvana over. "Of course, my daughter here will show you to your room it will be ten gold a night." Silvana reached for the key rack that was behind the bar and walked up to the man motioning for him to follow her. "Follow me please." She said and started walking through the bar area before heading up a flight of stairs and headed towards the end of the hallway which was close to another staircase. "This will be your room, if you need anything before midnight be sure to ask." Silvana then opened the room door inside it contained a small bed with a dresser and a window overlooking the harbor. "I'm Silvana by the way and the third floor is off limits, that's where my mom and I sleep." She said softly

Silvana then conjured up a small flame and lit up the candles within the room. "Enjoy your stay, i'll bring you up a meal in a few minutes." With that the young half elf started to head out of the room.

Sleeth, gathering a horse from the stable headed for the gates. This horse was part of a branch, and he could drop it off later without needing to return. It'd be a long trip and he wanted to head to another capital, if we road through the night likely he could make it to Portsmouth, it had been a long time and he fancied a drink. Port cities always had stronger drinks after all for the sailors. Though he enjoyed his pristine wines and fine ales he wanted something more rough on his travels. Being incapable of growing facial hair like elves took away some of the gruff look that they could get and he had none. He looked delicate, almost womanly if not for the cold intimidating eyes that gave him all of the manliness he would need.
He trotted down the road towards the city that was so far. Nights without sleep would be no problem and he might be able to find an adventure or two.

Nemita dragged her feet along the dirt road as she walk, kicking up the loose dirt making them look like little clouds of dust at her feet. Each one of her steps heavy and uncoordinated as if she had been walking for a very long time. Nemita stopped walking for a minute to look up to the sky, taking a deep breath in as she embraced the sun on her cheeks even though she was exhausted. "Alright, it's just a little farther..." Nemita reassured herself as she looked forward once more to see the city of Portsmouth off in the distance. She paused for another moment before she looked down at the dagger attached to the right side of her belt by a rope like chain. Taking the sheath in her right hand and the hilt of the dagger in her left, she cracked the dagger from the sheath to expose the steel blade. As she stared down at the the dagger it reminded her of the night it was given to her. The longer she stared at the dagger the more she began to miss home, but Nemita knew what she was going to have to do if she wanted to be able to go on and have adventures. She knew she would have to leave them behind. With that, she slowly closed her reddish brow eyes and let out a deep sigh. As the last of her breath left with the end of the sigh she quickly slammed, what little of the dagger that was exposed, back in its sheath creating a 'shink' like sound. "I will get there in no time at all!" She cried out as her eyes blinked open and a grin appeared on her face, clenching her right fist out in front of her. With new found energy Nemita hopped into the air not going very high only to say "Let's get moving" as she landed, seeming to take off in a mid-pace run towards the city of Portsmouth.

Kharloz trudged on aimlessly through the snow of the lands known as The Barren. There was not a sound in the distance nor could he tell which direction lead to civilization. The heavy snow that fell during the prior night had completely covered the roads. While he didn't like to admit it, he was lost. Although that wasn't all bad. He hadn't experienced being lost for ages and being the person he was, relished in the opportunity to experience new and dangerous things. Plus he had been in worse situations before. The thing is, it was starting to get dark and a night in The Barren was considered certain death unless he found a way out of the snow soon.

With a thump, he sat down on a rock to think about his predicament. "Maybe purposely going into the untamed wilds of the cold with no map, food, or proper clothing wasn't such a good idea after all... I'll have to drop my weapons at this rate to move more freely through the sn-" His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a galloping horse heading in his direction. He stood there for a moment, staring at the incoming rider and its horse. Cautiously, he held a hand up, palm facing the rider's direction, signifying for the rider to stop. He hoped his intimidating appearance wouldn't scare them away, it had happened before on more than one occasion.

Sleeth looked ahead, noting a figure in the road. Though his eyesight was good he was no Elf, seeing in the dark wasn't an option. That blade was too big though, slow, finding no need for extreme caution he slowed down, noting now that this figure was in fact an orc. He kept his hood up, hiding his face so he wouldn't he confused for a vampire again. "Are you lost?" He asks, his voice had an overly calm tone that signified a certain lack of caring. "Apologies, I am Sleeth Uzama of the Valerin household, you are sir?"

Kharloz sighed, the rider had slowed down and came to a stop at a respectable distance. Combined with the darkening sky and hood the rider was wearing, Kharloz couldn't tell of what blood he was of, but didn't give it a second thought. He was more concerned for getting out of the snow. The rider quickly introduced himself, although he sounded a bit uncaring at first.

"Greetings, Sleeth Uzama. I am Kharloz Daerok, of no particular allegiance." The Orc holds his fist onto his chest, as is the customary Orc greeting of his people. "I realize you probably have something to attend to but I am afraid I appear to be lost in this damned snow. Is it okay if I tag along with you out of this frozen hell? I would be forever grateful."

Sleeth extended his hand out too this Orc, he wasn't interested in slowing down at all. "Get on, you must be tired. Besides, the trip will take too long on foot. She's hardy, I'm like a hat and you'll be a coat. She'll have no problem carrying us to the port." He says, adjusting himself a bit for a passengers. Orcs could be bandits sometimes yes, but they never stabbed someone I the back literally and this one seemdd trustworthy enough.

"Maybe I shouldn't have started running, I was already low on energy' Nemita would say through her panting, clearly tired and exhausted from the running, especially after already walking so far. As she looked up to the sky, she would see that the sun had shifted from the last time she looked up. "I should look to speed up even if I am pooped, I need to make it to the tavern before night break" She thought to herself as she riffled through her pack looking for her canteen of water. As the felt the canteen in her hand, she'd pull it from her pack and in to the air as if it were a prize. Lifting her left hand to the cap of the canteen she would uncork it and pull the top to her lips. "Ahh!" The water was refreshing and enough to keep her mind on the task. "I can't wait to be back in Portsmouth" Nemita said peacefully as she slowed her mid-paced run to a quick walk.

"You have my gratitiude, Sleeth of Valerin, was it?" It takes a special kind of person to pick up an armed Orc in the middle of nowhere when asking for help. It made him curious to know more of Sleeth. Kharloz took the man's hand and awkwardly climbed onto the horse's back. He hadn't been on a horse for years but could still remember the pain in his crotch from that bumpy ride like it was yesterday. "You mentioned heading for a port? Would that happen be Portsmouth in Morcrest?"

Tugging up the Orc was semi difficult, he was strong but not horribly so. Once he was up Sleeth nodded and turned the horse back into gallop. "Aye, not many ports worth mentioning after all. I said the port, not a port. I trust your kind, more than I'd trust a shem by far. A warrior is better to have with you than a random damsel likely to stab you with a makeshift blade. Besides that, bandits don't salute even as deception. It's a true sign of respect is it not? People fail to see that."

"Of course. Although I may not live among my people as I once did, their teachings and customs are as alive within me from when I was just a tyke. Speaking of which, I hope I am not being rude when I ask of what blood you are of, my friend? You don't have to tell me if you are uncomfortable with saying, I will understand."

Sleeth hesitated though not in lack of trust, he was trying to remember. "I am Pargijakun Fos in Orcish tongue- Ridician." He answers after coming to terms. How ling had it been since he'd spoken or even thought of that tongue? No matter now at least. He reached up and grabbed his hood, lowering it down. He felt no need to hide, it would he clear he's no vampire if he traveled with an orc, considering it not only looked like the orc could cleave him in half but they couldn't turn anyhow. He felt like he could breath easier in the night air this way, his red eyes peering behind him. "Thats not a problem is it?"

The gnome once again extracted his head from the robot's torso. The day was getting on, he needed some new parts and spare ale, ale most importantly. Since the recent tensions about magic, business hadn't been as good as it was before and it was really getting down on him. Maybe a trip to the tavern would do him some good. And a wider range of clients would be there, too. He had also heard that the inn offered some new, private study rooms where he could concentrate on his blueprints. The gnome donned a nice black trench coat, a silver knapsack and a scroll case which looked like it had carried significant amounts of rolled-up parchment. Of course, before going anywhere, Thom hung a simple sign on his door on which were painted the words GONE FISHING.

When the gnome stepped into the tavern, it was loud, noisy, boisterous - the usual. He said a kind hello to the landlady whose daughter was out serving drinks to the guests. Her daughter was a beauty among the regular tavern-goers, he'd heard - for better and for worse. Her attractive body often made her the subject of many drunks with... urges. Suddenly, a brown-bearded dwarf swathed in a leather coat residing to the left of the tavern suddenly stood up, knocking over a few flagons of ale. "Thomas, my little man! Have a drink with me!"
Thomas knew that voice all too well - it was Bjorn Frosthammer, a famous smith in Porthsmouth and one of Thom's good friends.
"Good to see ya, Bjorn." Thom enthusiastically embraced the dwarf's bulky frame - just enough for his fingers to touch. He sat down, relieving himself of his silver knapsack and worn scroll case.
"Now, Bjorn. Let's get down to business. You wouldn't have a spare 3'7 brass cog on ye, would ya?"
"3'7, 3'7..." The dwarf rummaged in his fairly large leather satchel and pulled out a brass cog slightly larger than his fist, which he slid across the table to Thomas. In return, Thomas slid back five gold pieces.
"Ah, thank you for that, Bjorn. I'm still working on Maximus. Something happened and my last cog holding his left arm together snapped in half."
"That old robot? Still?" The dwarf counted the pieces. "Oh, yes. I forgot. The Annual Tinker's Convention is in a month's time, no?"
"Indeed." The gnome adjusted his glasses to better magnify his eyes, which had a slight sparkle in each blue pupil. "Maximus is going to be the star of the show. Have a look at the plans." Thomas unlocked the brass hatch of the circular case and rolled it over to Bjorn, who immediately started poring over the blue paper.
"Hey, isn't that old Tinker Tom?"
"Looks like ye've got some visitors, mate." Bjorn looked up from the blueprints and smiled. "Might wanna give 'em a little show."
Thomas stood up and walked over to the patrons who had recognized him, knapsack in tow. "Perhaps you would fancy some toys, sir?" Thomas reached inside his silver knapsack and pulled out a small clockwork chicken. He winded it up, and the chicken started walking around in his palm, complete with lifelike bawks and cock-a-doodle-dooes. "Brilliant!" "More, Tom, more!"
"More, sir? Alright, I've got plenty more tricks up my sleeves." Thomas smiled. Ah, the true joy of tinkering - seeing people enjoy what you've made.

The Orc's curiosity was admittedly peaked to know more about the boy as he revealed his knowledge of the Orcish language and race. It was a rare sight to see Ridicians outside their isolated territories and even more so for one to be so courteous to a stranger. But Kharloz knew better than to pry into someone else's life so soon after they had just met and kept personal questions to himself. He realized then that the boy was most likely hiding his origins from fear of being accused as a Vampire, who looked similar to their kind. Not that the boy didn't look like he couldn't defend himself, even with his back turned towards him. Now that he thought about it, he felt as if he had met a Ridician before in the past though he couldn't pinpoint who it was or where it happened. He decided to ignore the thought.

"No, it's no problem at all, my friend. While race and lineage is the base of a man's soul and identity, it does not have to dictate his future. Both of our cultures share many similarities anyway from what I know. I only hope I am not being a burden on reaching your destination. How far are we from Portsmouth, by the way?"

"I wouldn't care to do the math for clicks." Sleeth answered, looking ahead again as they started to go down hill. "I've been at it for..." He stopped and looked up at the sky, finding the stars he had needed and ffollowing them down. "Give us just another two, maybe three hours depending." He clicked his heels on the horse to get it to speed up. "Next time I'm asking for a courier horse, these war horses may intimidate but they aren't fast enough." He complains, more so to himself than the Orc behind him. "Going anywhere specific then?"