[IC] ~Winds of Fate- A Thief's Adventure~

Here are some hiders containing easy access to valuable info for all players as a resource.

Still accepting new applications for characters. Apply in OOC thread please. If submitting a character please post it in a hider.. Thanks in advance!!

MAPS OF THE NINES

I will update these locations accordingly over the course of the RP as it unfolds. Please check periodically.

Guilan

CURRENT LOCATION++

1 Square= 3ft

PURCHASABLE GOODS

ROLLS AND MODIFIERS

Attack rolls - 1d10
Injury Mod - -2 for the duration of the injury.

Skill Rolls - PointsxD2 ( if no skill points exist for skill player rolls 1d6 but must roll a 4 or better for a success. If successful in same action several times the GM may award character with this skill, adding 1 point, accumulating over time. Please make the GM aware of this as best as possible.)

Flintlock Mod - -2
6-8 = hit, 3-5 = poor shot, 1-2 = catastrophic failure

If you roll a perfect 10, the -2 modifier is negated, The shot is accurate and finessed. (Head shot, or similar)

Flaw Mod - -2 on first roll, if successful, mod drops to -1 (hold my beer!)

Intoxication Mod - -1 for duration of affect. Must be added to roll if this flaw already applies to character but reduces to regular mod -1 if roll is successful.. (good luck!)

Unfamiliar Weapon - -2

Pickpocketing - 1D100 (Silver)
All Successes - 1D20 (Gold)
Zero Successes - Failed pick, alerts the mark as well, resulting in confrontation.

[Arkitekt]

Guillan- Market district, Noon.

Y'Vanna-

Y'vanna peeled her head from the drool-soaked table planks that served as her last night’s lodgings. Her left hand still clasped around a half drank horn of grog. The afternoon swelter woke her, and the air was thick with the smell of strong alcohol and vomit, and it was enough to drag her from slumber. Her eyes were red and half lidded, her stomach groaned as she bent to wrench the gruel and grog from her belly. What sort of life is this?, she thought to herself. Guillan was supposed to be a stop along the way and nothing more. How had she remained here for nearly a full cycle? Sure, Guillan wasn't a bad place for a thief to make a living, if that's what you'd call it. Enough coin to fill her belly and horn, but that was about it. She couldn't even remember the last time she had a night under roof or with bed. The grog was nothing like the sweet mead she was accustomed to, but a little girl, she was not. She wiped the froth and bile from her lips and chin as she stood. Her face twisted slightly and she winced as she finished off the stale liquid from her horn. She made her way down to the water’s edge, perhaps the thing she enjoyed most about Guillan, as it reminded her of her own port city. Her leather leggings stretched and groaned as she knelt, immersing her head beneath the crystal waters. The shrill water was enough to widen her eyes and erect the hairs of her neck. She pulled her head from the waters and gasped. Finally she was awake, and for better or for worse.

The sun was bright and beat down with little in the way to soften it, and it was almost unbearable she thought.. and her head, oh how it pounded. Her leathers were drenched and tight against her body as she walked. She made her way back to the same outdoor tavern as she placed two bits on the counter. "Another.." she clamored.. Hair of the wolf would surely do the trick, as it had done nearly every day for as long as she could remember. The barmaid produced another horn on the counter as it sloshed. She would've thanked the ogre of a woman, had she actually been doing her a favor. She grabbed her drink and downed it fast.. On to business. Her fingers tapped against the pommel of her cutlass as she figured upon what she was to do this day.. Not much going on for a thief in the afternoon sun, but the heat was not to offer her any rest. She missed the cool breeze that rolled in from the shores from her home lands, but she shook it off. No time for daydreaming, not now. Grandeurs and delusions only got in the way, at least that's what she told herself. She made her way back to the tented tables, choosing a different one this time, away from the cesspools of last nights lodgings. The air was stifling and she had grown tired of her situation, though her drunken state did little to free her of her stagnancy.

She laid a few more bits on the table. The woman huffed and waddled over with all of her stench and girth. She set a small pitcher on the table, sloshing the liquid inside. She looked at Y'Vanna and placed her hands on her hips.

"Aren't ye had enough lass?. Been 'ere nearly a moon’s cycle, day after day a'drinkin' the grog.." the woman said, offering only a slight tinge of sympathy.

"You'd do good to hold your tongue, old sow..." Y'Vanna said in a low and firm voice as she raised a brow and tilted her head to meet the woman's eyes. "Sides, I pay ye do I not? My coin is good, aye?" She snorted. The look was enough to curdle sweet milk in an instant.

"Aye your coin is good... it's your attitude needs a good polishin'.." she said as she waddled back towards the bar adjacent the tented tables.. "Had ye been me own I'd had ye beaten with the sense of things, lass.." she mumbled as she went.

"Had I been yer own I'da left by now..." Y'Vanna said, her voice raised and perturbed in manner as she poured another horn. "Or killed meself... Twat."

The woman cackled as she made her way behind the bar.. They had been at this for a while now.. Had she really been there that long? She downed the horn and poured another. The pounding in her head slowly subsided and gave way back to her thoughts. What to do? The question resounded yet again.. There was still a good bit of day left in the sky, and plenty of time to ponder. She was tired of the marks in the alleys, barely had coin themselves. Things needed to change for her, and she was going to change them. The sun beat down hard around the canvas covered tables, which offered little comfort from the heat. She played with her small purse, rolling the weight and strings in her fingers. What to do indeed..

Several hours pass as Y'Vanna waits out the afternoon swelter. The market district was thick with people and the hot air and stench of it all was stifling. She propped her head with one of her arms as she sighed, watching the passers by, entranced by the motion of it all. She took the last sip from her horn, and looked at it disappointedly. She had been asking for another pitcher for nearly half an hour now, no response from the wicked shrew either. Y'Vanna was losing her patience. She cut eyes towards the bar adjacent her table under the tent. "Look at her.." she thought.. acting as if she hadn't heard her requests for some time. Y'Vanna had little in the way of patience to begin with, and her temper had little need of encouragement like this. She huffed and slammed her horn hard on the table planks.

"Damn it wench, I said another! Ye be deaf as well as ugly now? Do ye?" Her voice was shrewd and cut like a blade. Others seated nearby grew quiet and looked onward in her direction and the scene she was making. Y'Vanna cared little, nor did she notice. The woman waddled silently back and forth behind the counter. Y'Vanna could hear her shuffling about. The woman soon came from behind the bar and walked over to Y'Vanna's table carrying a small tray. She stops directly in front her and sets the tray down. Y'Vanna looks coldly at the woman. The woman then grabs a small cup filled with a steamy liquid. The smell was putrid and stung at the nose. It was quite noxious, she thought.

The woman sat across from her with a stern brow. She crossed her arms and leaned back a bit, tilting her head as if she was disappointed. She nodded her head and pointed at the small cup.. "Drink up lass, do ye good an' all." She nudged the cup closer. "Go on. take it all up now."

"Now ye know this not be what I asked ye for wench.." Y'Vanna said, crossing her arms in contempt. "Sides, it smells like the shite from a sickened yak belly..."

"Just drink it.. go on. Ye be drenched in the mash and need a good lift up.. Now I see people all the time.. just like ye, drinking like the time just stopped a'tickin'.. People don't just drink like that for no reason lass.." She paused a moment before continuing. She leaned across the table taking "Y'Vanna's hand. "I had me own daughter once... long time ago though... Look child, I know what ye be doin for coin.. Least ye not be taking to yer back to get it.. Those be the real fools. I know I didn't exactly get marks for me smarts, but any fool can see it dear. Now, I'm not sure what ye be runnin' from lass, but ye needn't be a'wastin away in the likes of this 'ere place either."

Y'Vanna jerked her hand loose from the woman. "Now just who ye be thinks ye know me? Trust me wench, ye know little about me.. or what I a-." Y'Vanna couldn't finish her retort before the woman started back in at her.

"Aye lass.. Ye be right on that.. I don't know ye.. but I do know ye aren't what ye be claiming to be. And ye don't need be knee deep in shite 'ere either." she said in a very direct manner. "I seen the markings on the back o' yer neck, all slumped over and near a'drownin' in yer own liquids of an evenin'.. and that's enough." she said, raising a brow. "But don't worry lass, I won't be tellin’... now drink up.. I might a have a bit you'd might be interested in, a proper job, if ye gets me jist." She slid the cup closer to Y'Vanna with a stern look.

Y'Vanna sighed and looked away for a moment, as if to take in the recent proposal. She looked back at the woman and leaned in landing a finger on the rim of the glass. She thought for a bit, and there was a brief silence between the two.. She took the small cup in her hand and brought it to her lips then stopped.. "Let's say I do be interested wench.. what sort of job is it... and is it worth me to be doin' in the first place." raising a brow as if slightly intrigued at the sound of this so called "proposition".

"It be enough for ye to get away from 'ere lass.. Now go on, bottoms up." she said slyly..

Y'Vanna thought for a second and threw the liquid to the back of her throat, wincing immediately . The foulness of the dark roasted liquid was indescribable. Black bean tea they called it, guaranteed to lift the drunk from the dead. She smiled and said "Alright then, let's be hearing it." The two leaned in close and began talking over the details, and for about an hour or so this continues. It looked to the other inhabitants taking the grog as if they had surely been friends for ages. They finally settled and agreed, Y'Vanna and the woman stood, and then the barmaid produced a small folded papyrus and gave it to Y'Vanna. The two shook on it and parted ways.

"We'll see ye none more then, aye?" The large woman said loudly as she made her way to the bar, looking back in Y'Vanna's direction from over the counter as she went back to sprucing the cups.

"Aye, wench, no more.. ye being seeing me no more.." Y'Vanna smiled as she spoke, but she didn't look back. She took to the masses of people in the streets, which had died down a bit now. The daily hours were quickly waning, and so was the heat. It looked as if it might come to a drizzle from the looks of the sky. She found refuge on a bench nearing the end of a corner street, away from most of the traffic. She unfolded the papyrus and looked at the scratched out map and plan, careful not to afford even a single glance to any passers by. She smiled and found herself to be rather giddy upon doing so. A "proper job" indeed, she thought. It finally looked as if her very luck was changing and she would be free of this place, and it would soon be just another faded memory, cloaked in the clutter of better days to come.

[Arkitekt]

Guillian was a major port city, much like Y’Vanna’s home city of Avondyllac, though it dwarfed it in size. It was a major trading hub in the Lands o’ the Nine, and brought goods and commodities alike to the people in all corners of the empire. Salts and spices, dyes, fruits and vegetables, and many hard to get delicacies that were succulent in nature all came together here. The Lands o’ the Nine were vast, and stretched far and wide over mountains and valleys and kissed the seas that surrounded it. Most anything the mind could conjure could be found in the Nines.. Guillan was also a cultural hub, as it sat almost dead center in the seat of the empire, it was also the capital. All walks of life exchanged daily routine and custom, as well as religion. There were all sorts from any class thinkable. From the high ups and prominent patrons to the very vile and malicious scrapers at the bottom. There were plenty of this last lot. There were uncountable alleys and nooks within Guillan and not one of them was without it's share of undesirables. This worked both for and against Y’Vanna as it was in these numbers that her ability to blend in came from, but it was also this lot that was her competition. There was one thing to be true, there were thieves aplenty in Guillan. It was probably one of the thickest professions in the port city, next to the whore and songwrite… No matter though, not to Y’Vanna at least. She had a decent enough hand at it to get by. Her father had other intentions for her, and had he still been alive her life would have most likely went in another direction. Delicate fingers traced over the marks on the back of her neck, as her thoughts shifted back and forth like waves in a turbulent sea. No time to get caught in her feelings she thought, as she sniffled and tugged for a small pouch tucked in her waist. She quickly found it and pulled it out, repositioning herself on the bench to take full advantage of the small nook of the corner. She pulled from the bag a small vial of very pale blue powder, so pale it almost had no color at all. Constables were everywhere, walking this way and that. Y'Vanna would have to be tidy about it.

She pulled its cork and put a bit under her nail and put it to her nostril. The “dust” as it was referred to was bountiful in Guillan. Another thing that Guillan was good for.. Didn’t have to go far to find the premium stuff. “Dust” was a potent stimulant, and was popular with the scrapers and the likes. A dangerous vice to say the least, and it was very addictive in nature, and had claimed many a better man than she.. But as it was Y'Vanna was no little girl. She’d had her nose full of it for the better half of a decade now, and she didn’t see an end to it any time soon. The powder soon hit, and her eyes widened as the sweet rush came on. Y'Vanna was keen on using it, especially after a good stent with the grog. She always kept a bit put back just for times like this. She knew it was a nasty habit, but it was like a consort that she couldn’t seem to kick, or a leftover remnant from her days with the pirates that took her on after her father was killed. The markings on her neck nearly vibrated from the thought. Perhaps it was the dust.. The twang of it hit her throat and her eyes widened even more as she tucked the vial back into her waist. She ran her tongue across the back of her teeth and the cloudiness from the grog soon gave way to alertness. Y'Vanna was as sharp as a hewing axe.. The night would soon take the sky and she would embark on this new and enticing “proposition”.

"On with it V." She said to herself as a determined and inspiring sentiment.

A firm brow and a stern look now fell upon her. "V" was a little nickname that had always kind of seemed to loom around her. It wasn't an official or given name but rather just seemed to float to the surface over time, and once that happened it spread like the plague. Her leather pants and boots wretched as she stood, She straightened her attire and sniffed again, and looked in both directions sporadically whilst running a finger ran across where the vial was stashed to make sure for the last time that it was securely in place, before turning to left. Her boots fell briskly to the copplestones below as she turned down Albacore street heading towards the docks and shipyard. To her future to come. Y'Vanna had a feeling that something very big was going to happen in her life this night. One that would surely change her course in one way or another. She thought upon this but a moment before it dwindled like ash in her mind. She welcomed a change, be it good or not.

[The Angry Goat]

Gail // Marketplace // Eastern Slums // The Play Begins

Gail stretched as he looked around the marketplace. A particularly large amount of boats had come in today, and it was a little busier than usual. It really just meant all the more people to observe, but he was looking for someone in particular, which made it less enjoyable. he knew she had a stall somewhere around here... ah! there it is.

"Shannon!" he exclaimed when there was a gap between the customers. "How are you? and how is Dietrich?"

it seemed to take her a moment to recognize him, but she quickly brightened upon the realization. "Oh, better now that the most recent shipment came in - more people in the market means more people to buy this food" she remarks, gesturing at her stall, adding, "of course, at a 10% discount for friends. Dietrich is fine; the doctors were saying that whatever it is that's ailing him is fading - but of course, he still has those bedsores."

"Ah, and I take it that is where I come in," Gail responds, eyeing her supply of lentils as he pulls a bottle out of his bag. "For the bedsores - and instead of last time's price, I'll just take a pound of those lentils and two pounds of potato, if that's alright with you?"

"Fair trade in my eyes. thank you so much young man, this makes his life so much easier"

To this, Gail has no response but to smile awkwardly and gather up his ingredients. "s-same time next week?" he asks, getting a nod in response.

Gail moves quickly into the crowd, blending into it almost as second nature until he bumps into someone, knocking a lady's basket out of her arms as he backs up apologizing to the first someone. shit...fuck...damnit...argh he thinks as he bolts from the scene out of embarrassment after frantically trying to help the woman, who refused.

finally regaining his composure as he walked towards the slums, Gail remembered that with this newest shipment, Buddy would finally have more supplies to give him. Dust... Black Lotus... drugs are such a disgusting phenomenon, people selling their souls for a chance at the next high. But, people are gonna get hooked whether they want to or not, and it doesn't do them any favors to remove the drug from them entirely. Especially with how much they pay. He turned down an especially slimy looking alley, loudly coughing twice and then hitting the blade of his knife against the brick wall. he stood and waited for a while... it is possible that he won't be here today... might take some time for it to get to him... but he popped out from the back door of an old warehouse, flanked by a large man, long haired and surprisingly well armored - he was new, and Gail immediately checked behind himself, checking that that route wasn't blocked, ready to bolt.

"Calm down, 3," he said to Gail - neither knew each other's real name - "My friend Fist here is just a ...precaution... against some recent incursions into my territory by... well, you don't really care by whom, do you?" for a man as grimy looking as he was, Buddy was surprisingly eloquent, putting him relatively out of place among Gail's usual backstreet crowds. "Pay me the usual, I'll give the usual."

"Show me." he said, pulling out his coin. "and I'll need some change."

"don't trust me, eh? I guess I can understand, Fist ain't exactly a friendly guy. You don't need to worry about him though, especially since you won't be getting your supplies from anyone else" he smiled, as Fist cracked his neck. After shuffling around in his bag for a moment, Buddy pulls out 3 bits, 4 bottles of Dust and 3 of Black Lotus. They exchange content, and thank each other, culturally mandated niceties in a world far from that which spawned them.

"two weeks?" Gail asked, getting a nod in response. He wandered back out the alleyway, noticing a loaf of bread at the side of it - someone must have dropped it. Giving it a once over after picking it up, he determined it was fresh, most likely anyway, and moving on after adding that to his bag. A good day, and good supplies for dinner. he'd be able to get started on that next potion, too.

[Arkitekt]

Guillan- Market District, Dusk
Y'Vanna-

Y’Vanna made her way through the twisting paths of the marketplace with ease now as the people had all but abandoned theirs stalls and storefronts. Windows and doors were being pulled closed and latched for the night. The last light of the day was upon as the sun now kissed the vast horizon of the sea, just before it would plummet beneath its waters. Most of this light didn’t make it to the market, and the street torches were being lit. That’s when she saw it.. The perfect market. An elderly woman with a large basket under her arm, and a snotty little brat of a child tugging and pulling at the other. A slim grim fell upon her face and her pace quickened. The hunt was on. She knew to be mindful of the constables and the citymen lighting the pyres, but she was also a seasoned enough to know that hesitation was responsible for the knicking of many a picker, and there was no hesitation in Y’Vanna, or her will.

She slowed once she got in closer, at a range that she could make her move when the pass was a go. The pads of her feet fell silently against the soft trodden earth beneath them. One last glance over the shoulder, her hand extended towards the basket. She could see the strings and sash of the coin purse as it lay there amongst an assortment of vegetables and grains. Just as she did the young child, a girl, that she could see now tugged frantically at the woman, causing Y’Vanna’s hand to slap the basket. Y”Vanna was frozen with shock as the woman and child both looked to her.. The woman’s face twisted with disgust.

“What are you on about, then?” The woman shrilled with excitement.

Y”Vanna barely heard the words as they rang out from her mouth. This was hardly the smooth transaction that had played out in her mind just moments before. Stunned. Finally the words seemed to meet with the face before her, and her senses came to, one after another. Her brow furrowed and she had only a small moment to act upon.

“Oh feck it..” She said as her hand grasped the coinpurse. She clawed at the leather pouch so quickly that she almost swatted it from the basket entirely, and barely managed to get a couple of fingers around it..

She took off running, swift like a gull on the winds of the tides. The woman left some paces back shrieked and howled, and the child followed suit. There were constables in earshot, this was certain, and before long she heard their whistler sound off, blowing hard and beckoning company. She cut at the nearest ally, the coinpurse tucked firmly under her arm now and she could feel its girth and weight. She could hear the heavy footsteps and chainmail as she rounded another corner. They were bigger and less agile than she, and it wouldn’t be long before they’d give up in their pursuit of her. They were many in number, but if you added five of them up they’d hardly have the brain of a normal man. Oafs, the lot. At least that’s how she had always seen them.

It wasn’t long before she had outpaced them and she could no longer hear them nipping at her heels. A large crash and shouting noises verified their distance. She chuckled softly as she slowed to a walk before finding a small cut to rest up in. She knelt next to a small lodge, in between it and a shack just beside it. She pulled the purse out and rolled its weight between her fingers and palm. She undrew the string to reveal it’s contents. 3 whole coins and 7 bits, not a bad score. Now she had enough to purchase some more dust from her fence in the slums. Gail was his name. She hadn’t been in Guillan long, but she had taken acquaintance with Gail. He was not the usual dealer, or peddler of evils if that’s what you like.. He had always seemed a bit more gentle, and his kindness could hardly be masked. A very genuine fellow, be him odd, she thought. He had always been fair with her, and she always tried to look out for him in return. She stopped along the way to pick up a fresh loaf for him. She liked to get him sweets and breads whenever she could. She made her way down into the slums. Cluttered hovels and shacks everywhere, one nearly atop the other. The smell of the bread was enticing, and fresh. She couldn’t help herself and finally gave in, pulling a small piece off of one end. She finally made it Gail’s hovel but he wasn’t home. No matter.. there was still a bit of time to kill before she would implement her plan, and besides, maybe Gail would be interested as well, for a cut of the action of course. She sat there patiently outside his door, waiting upon his arrival, as the cinnamon bread tickled her tongue. The sun had finally set, and the streets of Guillan were dotted by torchlights.

[Genbor]

Guillan - Upper District, Dusk

Lautrec

Lautrec was carefully observing a mansion from a dark alley situated to the north, connecting a side street to the main one. It was the same mansion he had put under scrutiny for a whole week now, learning the schedules of the guards and servants hired to protect and maintain it. The mansion’s windows all faced east and west, so he was not in danger of being noticed unless someone deliberately leaned out and looked in his direction. As such, he was leisurely sitting on top of an empty barrel, chewing on a piece of sausage he had swiped earlier during the day from a market stall.

He saw the candles being lit by the butler, as he was making the rounds around the mansion. A quick glance down at the main door revealed two house guards talking. It seemed like one of them came to relieve the other of his shift. Oh, how he adored people who did not slack off. It made his job so much easier.

He knew that patience was the key, so he snuggled into his barrel-chair and leaned against the wall of the alley. The sausage he had been chewing on was now reduced to a stub, so he threw the small remains behind him. Anyone in their right mind knew that food should never be eaten completely, or you’d be making a statement that it wasn’t worth anything but the excrement you’d make out of it. He wasn’t that ungrateful and paid the respects that were due.

Slowly the stillness and quiet of the night settled over the streets. It was never fully still or quiet in a city this large, but the Upper District had the luxury of relative silence compared to the rest. As time passed, the light from the windows of the mansion were starting to dim and eventually fade. The candles had burned their course, and would be replaced by a fresh batch next day. It was slowly time for action. He got off the barrel and stretched extensively, trying to warm up every fiber of his muscle.

Once he was done with stretching, Lautrec started tracing a pattern in the air with his left hand, while he stomped with his right foot in a specific rhythm. The pattern and the rhythm would change depending on a number of circumstances that were obvious to all but the ignorant. Tonight’s robbery would require a double-tap, pause, tap rhythm of course, without forgetting to spin occasionally. A solid two minutes passed as he repeated the ritual until he was satisfied and finally made his way towards the mansion.

The front guard had moved in-doors by now, but Lautrec did not go towards the door, as he circled around the mansion. There was a window on the eastern side which was always kept open to let the fresh air in. The shutters weren’t raised enough so that a grown man could fit through, but he had dealt with these types before. The winch that locked the shutter in place could be bypassed if you knew where to apply a little bit of pressure with a thin rod. He just so happened to have such a rod on him, and knew where to apply the pressure...

As he got underneath the first floor window, he ran up the wall and pushed off against it in an attempt to jump higher than he normally could have. As he did so, his hands quickly found purchase in a rather convenient piece of decoration in the shape of a gargoyle. Well, convenient for him. As he dangled down from it, he started swaying left and right in a pendulum motion, and after gaining some momentum he let go of the gargoyle as he was swaying to the right, and using his newfound momentum reached the windowsill he had been aiming for.

With a pull, Lautrec found himself in upholding his weight with his down stretched arms, planted firmly on the small ledge. As he did so, he slid his left leg inside the opening, and was now in an awkward position where one of his legs was inside the house, his hip pressed hard against the shutters, and the rest of his body was still outside. He twisted his leg in a position so that the inside part of the windowsill was wedged between his calf and his thigh, and kept himself from falling.

With what seemed like practiced movement, he removed the thin rod from where it has been sheathed on his belt and then started fumbling around with trying to bypass the winch. He knew exactly what to do, but it proved to be much more difficult to do in practice, than in theory. He could feel his left leg going numb from the weight he was placing on it, and his frustration was making his hands sweat, essentially making the whole work harder.

With a last spurt of effort he somehow managed to unwedge the locking mechanism, and the shutters gave way. Climbing in, he lay down on the floor and just rested, panting for air from the strenuous effort he exerted. He breathed some life into his numb leg with a series of exercises and winced knowing how sore it would become later on. After a short amount of time had passed, he got up and summoned Willow, his guardian spirit to guide him.

[Genbor]

Guillan - Upper District: Mansion, After Midnight

Lautrec

With Willow to light his way, Lautrec looked around the room he was currently in. From the furniture and the stacks of documents on the desk he concluded that he was currently at the Study. A quick rummage through the drawers got him a leather satchel jingling with a few silver bits and papers describing incoming shipments, expenditures and future endeavor plans. While those could certainly be sold to the right buyer, he was not interested. He did pocket the satchel though.

Creeping to the door he opened it ever so slightly, the well kept condition keeping it from creaking unlike its dry and unoiled counterparts. His vision didn’t focus on anything, as he was more interested in catching movement in his sight. Not noticing anything alarming, he looked back to the Study one last time, taking everything in. His gaze got caught by a painting that was being illuminated by Willow nearby. It was a portrait.

He slowly made his way back to the portrait and took it off the wall, leaning it face-first against it. This was the only effective method of preventing the bad luck that the prying eyes could cause without ruining the painting. He went back to the door and entered the corridor leading from the Study. It was long and narrow, with a couple doors connecting to further rooms. Not an ideal setup in case he bumped into someone, but thieves’ couldn’t be choosers.

Under Willow's guidance, he quickly understood how badly he had chosen when he picked this particular mansion. It seemed the owner was a learned and worldly man, and utilized stationary sentries on his walls. They were just as effective as normal guards after all, and were much cheaper to employ. However Lautrec was not the type of person to shy away from a challenge. After careful consideration, he decided to leave no witnesses.

A considerable time later he finally moved on from the corridor, sweat adorning his brow from the effort he had to expend. Thankfully the rest of the mansion seemed much less closely watched, with only a guard or two looking about half-heartedly. It was clear they expected an intrusion to be loud and chaotic, and coming at them head on. That suited Lautrec just fine, so upon this silent but mutual agreement, they avoided conflict by staying out of each other's way.

He checked every room, avoiding those that were slept in, as he knew he wasn’t quiet enough to attempt stealing from right under their noses. He did, however, manage to collect a nice assortment of trinkets from a few golden candelabras to various gems and jewelry. This all went into the leather bag he had prepared just for this occasion. Just as he was considering whether his bag could hold anything more, he heard the thumping of running feet and excitement in the guards’ voices.

In a moment of decisiveness, he slipped into the bathing room nearby and curled up inside the tub that was off to the side in its own little chamber. He then dismissed Willow, as she’d only give away his location now that the people of the house were alert. Sure enough, it seemed the guards were checking under beds and inside closets, but nobody thought to check the tub. Typical negligence.

He was contemplating whether to charge extra for them being sloppy when he overheard two muffled voices. The door soon opened admitting two sets of footsteps, and he could finally make out their words clearly.

“.. the clever bastard. Must have gotten a tip about the hidden compartment behind the painting,” said one of them, as they walked in and checked something. Lautrec could hear something creaking.

“Maybe so, but at least they didn’t know which painting. Seems to me, they were trying to guess which one was the lucky find.”

As the second man spoke in a thoughtful manner, the creaking sound accompanied his words, followed by a click. The footsteps were now heading back the way they came as a third voice joined in from outside the room.

“Ha, you call that guessing? I’ve never seen the wall so bare before. Almost like…” the voices became muffled once again as the door closed, but they did not fade. It seemed like they decided the best place to have their conversation would be in front of the door.

Lautrec’s interest piqued after the mention of hidden compartments inside of paintings, so he got out of the tub and cautiously looked around the main chamber. Sure enough, there was a large painting of the sea with boats in the distance on the far wall. He looked at the door, then at the painting, and then shrugged. Might as well, since they've been kind enough. After listening intently on what was going on outside, he concluded that one of the guards had stayed behind to stand watch in front of the door. Good, he probably won’t be interrupted then.

Ever so carefully, attempting to make the least amount of noise possible, Lautrec felt around the edges of the painting with his hands. As he did so, he felt a bump with his finger on the bottom of the frame, and after pressing it, the work of art gave way like a door. He made sure to move it incredibly slowly, as he wanted to avoid alerting the guard outside. As the hidden compartment came into view, he clasped his hands together in a motion of gratitude toward the door, then leaned in closer to examine its contents.

[Peaceless]

What harm can it do?

Slums, Evening

The gloved hand faltered a little before opening the swinging door to the pub. A job interview? Why was it so disproportionately exciting? On one hand, she had heard of this local band of small fry and the nonsense they limited themselves to - but on the other, this was crucial experience for her. And you gotta start somewhere.

"'ey 'arm!“ a voice called out from behind the counter, "Check it!" And the lanky bartender with the large voice pushed a tap handle and poured some beer-looking substance into a mug as if it was an amazing trick. He only had a second to flinch at the short woman rushing at him from the door and climbing the counter with two swift hops. She tore the mug out of his hand and took a swig. She had to see for herself. And it was exactly what she expected.

After some swishing around in her mouth, she spit the liquid back into the mug. "You kould not help yurself, ah Garth?" If contempt was a solid, the nervously smiling barkeeper would've already been stabbed to death by her eyes. "Cheked it yesterday? Dis is beer flavored seeling vax. Do you knou vat dis meens?!" Garth was still frozen in a flinching position.

The loud girl hissed through her teeth as if letting out steam, her childlike face losing some of its surprisingly frightening tension. She jumped down from the counter and pushed the man away from the tap, to get a closer look. "Next pipeline inspektion in one month instead of three as I promised before. I vould redo this, but I don't trust you, Garth. For damage kontrol, run vater through da pipes for tvo hours. You kan recycle it. Just don't forget to swap it for yur beer or peeple may mistakingly tink dere's someting vorthvile here to drink."

"Ey shut the 'ell up 'arm", the man finally regained enough composure to reply. "I work 'ard for this stuff!" He obstinately filled another mug, and with just a hint of hesitation committed to a swig. "What the 'ell, this is normal beer!"

"Yeh, dat's yur problem rite dere, Garth." She sighed at him, and somehow shot a sideways glance at the mug on the counter. "My problem is I kan't even trust my barkeeper for unvinding material." With much less energy than what her day started with, the girl walked around the table to sit at the bar, her back against it. She grabbed her mug.

"Now c'mon 'arm, 'm sure I can offer ye somethin', eh? Eh?" her head turned with excruciating, owl-like slowness to meet his eyes, and even the smallest hint of a smile vanished from his face. "Yah, didn't tink so." she said into the mug, then took a swig. "Eh, dis will do. I've alvays been a lightveight anyvay, yea?"

Garth laughed nervously, wondering what kind of marketing strategy to employ to prevent Harm Titanfoot from ever walking into his bar again.

[The Angry Goat]

Gail // Eastern Slums // Caught Between Gangs

Elsewhere...

"And you're absolutely sure this will be going on tonight?"

"yes sir; I've been observing them for weeks, like clockwork, every time a big shipment comes through."

"and why have you bothered to watch them, hm? another drug dealer trying to get in on their turf?" The guardsman laughs, lightheartedly.

"Sir, I would not have you insult my integrity like that! I am not but a concerned citizen, wishing for nothing more than to rid these slums of their drug problem."

"Watch your tongue, and don't think we won't be keeping our eyes on you, too. Regardless, your reward will be here tomorrow if this information leads to an arrest. The royal guard thanks you for your service to the community."

---

Gail wandered home after his meeting, as it began to grow dark. It was a bit later than he expected it to be - he had gotten distracted earlier in the market - perhaps that's why Buddy took longer to meet him than usual. Where had the time even gone? Ah well, no real matter, he had no plans for the next day, and the night's plans could always be carried over to then. He rounded the corner to his place, and saw a shadow sitting by his door. He jumped and brought his hand to his hip before recognizing it as Y'Vanna. His heart dropped a little bit upon recognizing her, as it always did, sorrow for her situation overcoming his excitement at the money he'd make from the deal. He saw her as a woman brought to her personality by her lifestyle, hiding her kindness behind a veneer of stand-offishness, forever marred by some past event or present struggle. Whatever it was, it lead her to come to him for the Dust.

It was a healing potion in some respect, that way.

He approached her; "Y'Vanna? the usual, I suppose? come inside," he beckoned. Noticing the bread in her offering hands, he was flattered and blushed. "Oh, you really shouldn't! I haven't anything for..." he petered off, noticing an unusually brusque sound - something to worry about? A clattering - the sound had already been in the background, but the Guard wandering through the slums at this time of night was nothing entirely unusual - but never down his alley. It was quiet, full mostly of tired, honest dockworkers, a calculation of his father's when setting up here in the first place. Torches were already clearly noticeable from the direction he was looking, and a glance behind him confirmed what he had suspected. "Shit" he muttered, looking quickly to Y'Vanna: "take no offense from what I say in the name of bluffing" as the guards quickly approached, clubs out, definitely converging on his location.

"hands where we can see them, you two," A guard demanded, helmet frills announcing him as the captain of a division. There were five guardsmen in the alleyway now - two flanking the captain, the other two now behind Gail as he turned to face the captain, his hands raised to his sides, right palm open, left still clutching the loaf he found on his way back, about a quarter eaten. The already cramped side-path was already heating up with the presence of bodies and torches, and Gail's hands were nervous and clammy, shaking enough for the loaf to fall out of his hand. "You, young man. We have reason to believe that you are a dealer in illicit substances. Explain."

"Ah, uh, Sir. Uhm - pardon, you've surprised me. This is not the first time I have had a run-in like this, as people often misinterpret the nature of my work. I do indeed deal in substances, but they are, in fact, home-made healing potions, created and sold within the boundaries of the city codes covering rare and unusual substances."

The captain raised an eyebrow. "and of your meeting with this young woman? Is this a customer for your potions?"

"She's... she's a friend..." he said, reddening a bit while wavering his voice (and hoping in this way to keep her from incrimination even if he was caught in his lie), "Unconnected from my work."

The captain raised his eyebrow further, and smirked, seeming to believe him - on that front, at least. "Heh, very well. Just let us search that bag of yours, and you can be on your way."

Gail's heart dropped even further, but he still kept up the facade. "Pardon? I will not be having the guard going through my possessions on a whim without proper evidence!"

Suddenly, the joy was gone from the captain's face. "We ain't in the upper district, kid, and you ain't from a royal family. It was cute to watch your little brain work, after having tracked you from that alley to here. We already sent a group to take down your supplier, and me and my friends here..." he said as he and the rest of the guard moved into a fighting stance "will happily beat you to a pulp if we don't get what we want. show us."

Keeping his movements slow and methodical, Gail took his bag off of his shoulder and handed it to the captain. No longer able to keep up his facade with nothing to hide, tears began to slowly move silently down his face as he watched the man dig through the bag, pulling out the Dust and Black Lotus. "Just keep her out of it," he stammered, the reality of his care for his friend blending over with the previous lie hinting at a relationship. Suddenly, Gail was realizing the consequences of his actions, cursing the fates for bringing him into this life. In a different family... If his mother had lived... if he could have just made enough money off of the deals to stop having to do them...

[Genbor]

Guillan - Upper District: Mansion, Dawning Soon

Lautrec

Looking inside the compartment, Lautrec had a hard time discerning what was valuable and what was personal junk. The former was anything that he could sell on the streets without much trouble, while the latter was some kind of invaluable item that only meant something to its owner, or at the very least, a very niche set of people. His predicament arose because all of the items seemed to be in the personal junk category, yet why would they be hidden and guarded so closely if they weren’t extremely valuable to others as well?

He decided to pick up a moderately sized statue, around as big as a bottle, depicting a naked woman. The material seemed to be hardened clay from how the texture felt to the touch, and not some kind of valuable metal. Shaking it did not reveal anything inside either, at least not something that jiggles. Well, he could examine it closer once he was safely away from the place. If nothing else, since he’d already picked up a fair share of valuables, so it could serve as a memento.

After securing the statue inside his bag, he quietly closed the compartment’s artistic lid, and heard the click. With the distraction out of the way, it was now time to plan his grand escape. It would be rude to the inhabitants if he was caught after all of his efforts, and he was a well mannered man.

Lautrec stood there, thinking. He was standing there gathering his thoughts. His two legs were holding him up at that place while his brain worked its… It’s no use. He could not think of any way to leave unnoticed. The bathing chamber had no windows, just a pipe that served as ventilation, and it was about rodent sized. Now, some people could argue that thieves were a type of rodent, especially people that were displeased with losing their possessions, but Lautrec wasn’t fooled. Humans could only turn into ghosts upon death, not beasts.

And then, the idea came to him. He went back to his trusty tub, and hid once again. He called upon the aid of Willow, and willed her to head towards the door that the guard was stationed at. Being a metaphysical manifestation, she easily bypassed the limitations of a primitive physical barrier in the form of a door. He knew this because the guard cursed loudly and called for backup, with a thud that could have been him falling on his ass. Things may not necessarily have happened in that order, as it’s always a bit hard to tell how things occured during hectic situations.

He made Willow sink into the floor, and the repeated thuds from in front of his door signaled his chance to leave the room. The guard was giving chase, as you would when you see a levitating glowing sphere. Getting out of the tub after nobody came to inspect why Willow came from inside the chamber, Lautrec got to the door with swift steps and opened it slightly to get a better look. The coast seemed to be clear for now, but he heard the familiar bang of a gun firing. It was time to move and move quickly.

He traced back his steps to the corridor leading from the Study, and although he had to hide once in a room as a guard rushed past him, his flight was mostly without incident. That is, until he stepped onto the familiar corridor and his heart skipped a beat. The security was just as tight as it had been when he first came in, but he did not have the luxury of dealing with them at his own pace. He saw the butler's back from the door leading to the Study. The way was closed to him, and he knew it. He turned around and ran, wanting to reach the opposite side of the house. If he was lucky and someone saw him, they’d think he was another guard hurrying to do his job.

Someone did notice him, and even more shouting ensued. He could not focus on what they were saying though, as his whole attention was trying to find another escape route. He ran to what he gathered would be the western side of the mansion, and as he burst in through the doorway he grimaced. What greeted him was a set of stairs looking over a room on the first floor. Below him was a bedroom with bunk beds complete with chests at the wall, and around four very surprised guards that were currently hurriedly dressing.

He grabbed the door handle and closed the wooden portal behind him as he now ran back where he had come from. The shouts were now coming from both behind him and from the front, so he made a quick turn at the next door to his left. He came to a large bedchamber with a very shaken looking woman and a pale man that had a very notable mustache. He recognized the man from the portrait in the Study as he darted past them. They were so shaken up by the whole ordeal that the man only started shouting after he came out of his stupor, by which time Lautrec was well into the adjoining room.

The room turned out to be the Main Hall of the mansion, with two large staircases leading down onto the ground floor. The furniture was set up in a way that it would both serve as an adequate entry point and as a lounge, with cushioned sofas and tables suitable for tea or coffee. The whole place would have had a leisurely luxurious feel to it, had it not been for the hectic situation that was occurring all around. Some people just liked to make a big deal about everything.

There were guards running up the stairs towards him on both sides, cutting off his escape. He opted to take the third route, and jump down from the balcony in the middle. Surprised yells rang out all around him as he landed on his feet, tumbled upon impact and came out unscathed and running dearly towards the entrance door. As he did so, the man guarding the door stepped in his way, attempting to cut him off from his escape.

Without breaking pace, Lautrec took out a satchel of bits in his pocket that came loose with a tug, and launched the silver bits at his opponent’s face with a swing. Flinching from the unexpected situation, the man brought up his arms instinctively to shield his face from the incoming impromptu projectiles, and closed his eyes. While this was just a temporary distraction, it was enough for Lautrec to get past the man, swipe the keys from where he dropped it onto the floor and get to the door.

Lautrec practically pounced onto it as he fumbled with the keyhole, and to his delight, the door gave way. Stepping through, his delight turned to despair, as he came into bodily contact with a very surprised unit of Constable patrol that came to investigate the nearby commotion. One of them still had a hand raised as if he was about to knock, but it quickly lowered onto his sword hilt, and the others took on a defensive position as well after assessing the situation.

With Constables around him from the front, and the house guards from behind, Lautrec was now well and truly caught. He took the initiative and lowered himself onto his knees and showed that he was no threat, before one of them could cut him down in a fearful moment. As he was lamenting his bad luck, a thought came to him and he started ruefully laughing, mostly at how idiotic he was. He forgot to throw a pinch of salt out the window that he had climbed in from, to ward off bad luck. No wonder things turned out this way…

Status: Caught

[Peaceless]

Slums district

It was already dusk when they poured in. An ominous dark mass, slithering to a corner table, the lantern light around it sucked in by its blackness. The shape twisted and rippled slowly, lazily. Tiny brilliant orbs floated to its surface from time to time. Harmony Titanfoot, sitting at the bar, was gradually becoming more nervous.

This is going to be so awesome.

One of the tiny, reflective orbs scanned the room and froze on her. It measured her from head to toe, meticulously, with the patience of a master jeweler. A long moment after, the mass, which was in fact a huddling of black-clad backs, spit out a chair from its bowels and moved it away from the table. As if with invitation. The short woman rose from the bar, walked the distance to the corner table with confident but much less aggressive strides than was typical to her, and carefully sat on the chair. The dark mass closed around her.

When her eyes adapted, she was greeted by rough masculine faces, huddled together in a way that made their eyebrows and mustaches connect into a furry fairy circle. Their wrinkled, evil eyes narrowed at her, some of them licking their lips with thick, greasy tongues. It was a Hydra of lowlives, hungry for victims, misdeeds, and who knows what else. Harmony felt as threatened as elated - this was uncharted territory, and she was good at adapting. There were lessons to be learned here. Her loaded flintock became heavy and cold against her thigh.

"Harmony Tiiitanfoot." The central head of the hydra chewed on her family name. She could see the physical effort it took him to not look at where her feet would be had the table been transparent. These locals were always so literal. "We've got yer name from, sources, nevermind where, and believe you will be of service to us." The absolute nature of the last statement did not escape her. "There is a - a kid, a vagrant of sorts, moving material around, illegal trade and the like, steppin' on our toes all along the way. We want an accident to accidentally happen to him. Maybe a roof was too loose around the edges. A wheelbarrow not fastened strong enough. Water leak on a steep street - you get the gist of it. You will provide the materials, and have full, uh, creative freedom. And no downpayments - After all, you still need to prove you self, eh, Harmony of Titanfoot?"

They chuckled as he looked around. "Hard to believe a noble's daughter would hang out with the likes of us, eh boys? But then again, how boring must life be in the upper district. It's no wonder this little girl came out to play - " He reached out for her chin with a thick gloved hand. With a hard, swinging motion, she nailed the glove's hems to the table with a fork, and pushed a flintock against it with her other hand. There was an awkward silence.

"You know - " The short woman said, rising from her seat, "Most flintoks don't vork in dis orientation, since dey rely on gravity to hold the gunpauder and bullet inside. This one is a little different. Hauever, the solution to dis problem has a side effect, one that does not leave just a hole when the veapon is fired from a range of one foot or less. The effect is similar to... vat's the vord... Oh yeah. Meatloaf."

The large man pulled his hand back, his face visibly contorted from being forced to visualize Harmony's explanation. "You tiny b*tch, don't you know who I am?" He growled, "You have one week. And the payment is halved for insulting me." The fairy circle became visibly hostile. "I'll make it easier for you - I refuse de job." She sank back into her chair. "I don't knou hoo you tink you are, but you don't have half of vat it takes to say da Titanfoot name so easily."

"What the hell?!" He roared at her, pushing the table away. The dark mass spread outwards, splitting into its members. "Nobody refuses the Dark Companionship!"

[Arkitekt]

Guillan-Eastern Slums: "Fate is Fate.. right", Late Evening
Y'Vanna-

Y'Vanna was grateful for Gail's efforts in his attempts to separate herself from this terrible predicament that had hastily bestowed itself upon their poor souls. It would've have probably worked too, had it not been for the nature of her own destiny.. as the old woman and screeching brat of child, held up on one side by a guardsman of her own.. Y'Vanna's jaw dropped, and had it not been attached it would have surely came to rest on the worn cobbles beneath her feet. This was only a momentary look which quickly turned into a furrowed brow, and a look of bewildering disappointment as she realized she was clutching the coin purse still in her hand.. Careless move.. at least she thought so. How damning and insufferable her luck had always been.

"There she be!!, That be her that ran off with me purse.." the woman clamored about. Her and the child now hissing and pointing in her direction..

Y'Vanna was used to this sort of thing though. Trouble had always seemed to follow her, for they both crossed paths constantly. Y'Vanna would've normally sought out some ploy to escape from such a situation, and half of the time that strategy would work out in her favor. However, it would not be this day. The narrow alleyway was now impassable with guards, and that's all there was to it. It was over for the both of them, and she knew it too.. but she was still grateful to Gail. His efforts were commendable to say the least. She turned to look at him and pulled her arms up in the air, half shrugged, left hand still clutching the evidence.

"Hey..." she said with a smile."Fate is fate.. right?"

Then, as she did so, two guards were quick to put a good grip on her. One grabbing each arm. The one on the left snatching the woman's purse from Y'Vanna's palm, relieving her of it's ownership. The coins and bits still heavy inside it. One guard looked to the other, and then he looked to the accusing..

"This it Missy? This your purse 'ere?" he said with a jeered smile. The other trying to contain himself in the jest of it, whilst securing Y'Vanna's arms behind her back.

"Aye, that be it." she said in relief. The child now jumping with enthusiasm at the plight of Y'Vanna's situation.

The look on both of their faces made her sick in the pit of her stomach. How she loathed those who lived above her stature. She was for better than this, and she knew it.. and her past did too.. She had been better than this, at one time or other.. She scowled. Her hands were now being shackled tight behind her, the weight of the cuffs and chain were a constant reminder of guilt and were perhaps designed for this purpose to some degree.

"You mind I be having it and I will be happily on my way.." the old crow cawed, raising a hand and waving it as to dispatch her assailant "do what you will with that one.."

"I'm afraid I can't at the moment.. it needs to come with us so that we can properly document the evidence at this district's magistrate, Miss" the guard says, stuffing the purse under his belt and returning his attention to Y'Vanna and the other guard. "You're more than welcome to come by and pick it up there at noon on the morrow though. It'll be there for you then, safe and snug it will.."

"oh for the love of the Nines.." she snorted.. "Hard to tell who the real crooks are round 'ere, ain't it love?" gripping the child's hand as they both stormed off in disbelief.

It was a well known fact that the guards and those that governed in certain districts of the city were just as corrupt as the undesirables were.. everyone knew that. They began to pat Y'Vanna down and relieve her of her belongings and her pointy objects. One of them was being extra friendly as he did so, eventually relieving her of her pistol.

"What's this we got 'ere Lass?" The guardsman said holding out to pass to the other. rubbing his other hand across the flesh of her breast. "Wonder what else we might have."

Y'Vanna's heart sank at the words.. The dust.. She could surely not afford to lose her precious powder. Her saving grace. She would have to act fast. It was instinct that took over in that moment. One thing the girl knew was a good distraction, and a touch of seduction went a long way when properly applied..She lifted and knee and slid her leg across his own, and splitting them. She Tilted her head with a sly smile on her face, as she continued to reel in her catch. These were hard earned, and repetitive lessons, from her past time with the pirates. Some of her darkest memories, but also some of her most hardening too, and the skills she learned from them had always served her well.

"Why don't you get a little closer and find out?" She said enticingly. Her words melting the wit of the mark.

"Well now.." The guard said, licking his lips with anticipation. "That be an invitation.. is it?"

Aye it is.. she thought, as she rammed her head hard across the bridge of his nose and brow. His helmet left a terrible slice across her forehead from the nose guard, and blood began to seep down from out of it. She was hardly as marred by the incident as he was though, the cracking sound that was made sounding as if it was very unforgiving.

"You bitch whore, you!" he snarled, slinging the back of his fist hard across the ridge of her cheek, instantly rendering her unconscious. "Get her on out of 'ere, for I kill the wench.."

Her ploy had worked out though, as the guards were no longer concerned with searching her at this point. Her body slumped over as the other guard struggled with the limpness of her limbs. Blood dripping from her brow and lip, forming a constellation like pattern on the pavers below. Her dust was safe, at least for now.

Guillan- Royal Complex/Stronghold Keep, Dawn
Nar-

The two of them were both subdued by the posse, loaded up and carted away. The highly altered carriage was very sturdy, and both the wood and the iron bars were very thick. Though it was very well made, it was not luxurious, nor did it afford any comfort as the seats were as hard and damning as the evidence against them. The trip would be a bit longer than expected though, as they weren't going to the magistrate's at all. This carriage was on a course for the Royal Complex.. which was just as much a fortress as it was a palace, with bastions and thick buttressed walls. A fortification of the type that would require extensive siege to conquer. It was by far the most fortified location in the entire city. Massive walls and guard posts everywhere. Everything was immaculately ornate as well. No expense had been spared in its construction, nearly two and a half centuries ago..

Eventually, the pair had ended up in a small cell, with bars as thick as the carriage's were. The stonework and back wall were thick, and probably doubled as a massive foundation for the entire palace. One shackled at the ankle to the other. Y'Vanna was still out cold and laid out in a fetal pattern on the hard flooring. In the cell next to them was another ill fated thief. He was also shackled at the ankle to an iron loop in the wall. Hours had passed since the two had been down there, but he had remained silent for the whole time.. and oddly enough, when there was not a guard presently walking by, odd hints of lights could be seen dancing about from his direction as if it were from a flickering candle.
One thing was most assured.. Something was afoot and the three of them likely knew it.. crimes of their nature weren't usually handled directly by the Emperor King himself.. which was surely where they were at. Something was off alright. The floor and walls were damp from the ground water, and the temperature was very cool. One would assume that they were at some depth beneath the palace stronghold. Muffled voices and the sounds of chains clamoring about added to the dread of their environment. This wouldn't have boded well for any of them. Soon the morning sun would rise, and so too would fate changing events along with it....

[Arkitekt]

Lockup-

• Lautrec Varr'o
• Gail Caradec
• Y'Vanna Kurk'jian
• Justin Bark
• Harmony Titanfoot

Royal Complex Dungeons

[Peaceless]

Slums, Dusk

Harmony's world became very sharp. She still wasn't sure whether it was an overy vivid imagination or some kind of phobia, but she could swear she felt the points of the knives drawn against her skin. She tried prepairing for this mentally, but the time that took for the exchange to derail was too short. It took much effort to hold the leader's stare instead of looking at Garth - that would immediately be written up as a sign of weakness. Unbeknownst to her, Garth was calmly polishing a glass with a practiced motion, mentally adding the damage to ensue to Harmony's tab.

"Grab her!" The leader roared. She felt hands tightening on her shoulders, struggled against nothing for a confusing second, then weaved under and behind her baffled would-be captors. Most of them blocked by furniture and patrons, she now faced only two tall men, their hungry eyes dissecting her for a delicious meal. "Come along girlie," one of them chimed, "we will hurt you just a little!" He lunged at nothing. Harmony's steel-tipped boot sent his privates to a meeting with his teeth. A knife brushed against a strengthened leather plate on her shoulder, and she turned just in time to meet a large gloved fist face-first.

"Oh you will do this, miss Titanfoot." The leader growled, walking towards her, as his companion loomed over. She pushed away the chair she crashed against, but did not get up just yet. "You will do this job for free, or die trying, because until you do, the Dark Companionship will be breathing down your neck from every alleyway, every cranny, every -"

He stopped at the sight of a shiny flintock aimed at his midsection. His 'dark companion' suddenly realized there was a chair between him and the girl, and he had to bend too far to stop her from shooting. Breath was held. Time seemed to slow down.

Some guards barged in.

"Now what do we have here." Chided the eldest of the bunch, a bald man with a greying mustache. The gang leader didn't miss a beat. "As you can see, officer, just a poor drunken lass picking a fight she can't finish." The officer's eyes moved to the bartender, who raised his hands in a don't ask me kind of fashion. He sighed.

"Alright, drop that thing missy, you don't want to hurt anyone do you?" He said, in a surprisingly kind voice. "Come, we'll get you sorted out, don't you worry." He purposefully placed himself between Harmony and her assailant while helping her up, gently disarming her in the process. She was led outside politely but firmly, and finally looked at the bar to notice Garth avoiding her gaze. When her eyes moved to the gang leader's face, there was a strange, tiny smile.

Two guards waited outside, with their backs turned towards the bar. "It's really alright," Harmony started, "I'm from the upper district, and - " the officer cut her off, slamming his palm into her chest. She felt a crinkling not unlike breaking glass, and a strange smell filled the air, pushing its way into her lungs. She coughed with surprise.

"Yeah, looks like we have another one over here." The mustached man said with fake exasperation, his tone alarmingly different than before. "Probably some laced stuff, violent tendencies and all. We'll let 'er sit it off for a few days, and then decide what to do." Still coughing, Harmony failed to resist the steel cuffs closing around her wrists. Her head began to spin as she desperately tried to cry out. They pushed her onward, and when the effect finally subsided, she found herself behind a patrol, on what seemed to be the way to the guardhouse.

Listen, this is all a mistake! She said in her mind, but realization hit only a few seconds afterwards. It wasn't. It was all him. She licked her lips. Revenge is going to be a delicacy.

Status = CAUGHT

[YungTweak]

Justin Bark

Slums

Although the single roomed shack was dark, bits of light peppered in from various holes and spaces in the walls. A single candle resting on the only wooden surface, the top of a simple drawer, illuminated what it could, remaining steady as it was untouched by the wind. Laying on this table of sorts was a letter detailing a job, a small glass jar containing a blue powdery substance, and a cup of water. Sitting on the edge of a bed next to the drawer, Justin Bark, old criminal and ex privateer, lunatic to others, had started preparing for the evening. He sat shirtless, holding a syringe in his hands. Looking over the blue powder, Dust, he had decided that what remained wasn't worth conserving. Shifting forward a bit, the man grabbed the cup of water and allowed a splash to pour into the jar of Dust. He then took the tip of the syringe in hand, mixing it together a bit before pulling back on the plunger and creating a vacuum for the blue tinted liquid to suck into.

Plugging the needle into a vein at the crease of his extended and tightened left arm, Justin drew just a bit of blood to see if he had his mark. The dark red pouring into the cylinder brought a curt grin to form on his lips. He pushed down on the plunger, a rush of euphoria and energy washed over him, and truly, the old sailor had awoken. Having been a Dust fiend for quite some time, Justin considered himself lucky to have stumbled upon the small niche of those who had taken it in this way. From his understanding, this was rare and unheard to even the most addicted of users and the idea was stolen from the most advanced medical practitioners in the Empire. Maker knows how much Justin had to invest in acquiring a syringe himself. Cleaning up after his mess, washing the syringe of blood and returning it to a leather container that he would slide into a hidden pocket on the inside of the back of his pants, he looked over the drawer top before him, glaring first at the empty jar and then to the letter next to it, Justin was simply glad that he had found work for the night.

Using his newfound energy to prepare, Justin got dressed, gathered his personal belongings, armed himself, and looked over the letter once more. He had received the letter from an unnamed messenger earlier in the day and it's contents were just as simple. The parchment plainly stated that the job was from Thomas Kelling, a former employer, and that a shop owner down the way was to be intimidated into paying his protection fees. The pay was to be in 15 coins, delivered the day following the job's completion. Justin crumpled up the piece of paper and tossed it to the floor of his shack before blowing out the single candle flame and taking his leave.

The sun had began to falter in the sky, leaving the cityscape horizon a soft hue of orange when it wasn't blocked by a complex of buildings. The hustle and bustle of the streets was now decaying as people went about concluding their business, shutting down their market stalls, cleaning up their messes, and so on. This was the perfect time to begin a night of work as it didn't require any stealth activity and it wasn't conspicuous to be roaming the street. Justin Bark, triggerman to those who needed a place held up or a man killed, robber and murderer to some, had yet again began his descent into the role that he was hired for. With the loose stone beneath him clicking beneath his boots, he made his way toward the shop at the end of the street.

The triggerman's mind ran all over the place, contemplating various realities which could follow every single action he took. Every single detail of the world around him was beyond interesting, his eyes darting to and fro in an attempt to observe the details of every stone, every piece of grain, every bug, and so on. The only thing that he tried to ignore were the whispers in the distance, seemingly emerging from every alley, muttering his name or speaking some other mockery. Although unfocused, he kept moving forward, coming to a stop just outside of the named shop and taking a deep breath. Looking around the street, he saw that most of the human activity was a far enough distance that he could make a disturbance and go unnoticed. Placing his hand on the grip of his flintlock pistol, Justin took another deep breath to focus and took a few steps back. He was supposed to intimidate this fellow and that's what he intended to do. He pushed the bandanna upon his head, with the cloth resting on his nose and hanging down to obscure his features, before proceeding.

Bits of wood sputtered into the shop as the door's hinges snapped and bent and the wooden frame flung inward. With pistol in hand, Justin immediately marched toward the man behind the counter of the shop. He aimed the barrel toward him, shouting in a fast paced manner as he did so.

"WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, EH!? GIVE ME ALL YOUR FUCKING COIN 'LESS YOU'RE TRYNA' GET A BULLET, MATE", the words were bland, the first that came to the old criminal's mind, but effective nonetheless. The owner of the shop trembled in Justin's wake, likely frightened by the sudden exchange and frightened by both the demeanor and stature of Justin. The shop owner immediately began doing as he was instructed, rummaging through a drawer of the shop counter, searching for where he kept his coin from the day's transactions. As this happened, Justin listened to the words of someone in the world behind him, outside of the shop. It was a mocking voice, though he couldn't hear the exact words spoken.

Spinning on his heel, Justin turned and fired out into the distance, toward where he heard the voice. Although no one was to be seen, Justin shouted out again, this time at those who would speak ill of him.

"COME AND FIGHT ME IF YOU WANT TO FUCK WITH ME THAT BAD, YA' FUCKIN' GIRL", he screamed. Justin heard the familiar whistle of the city guard. He hadn't planned on firing a single shot on this job but had let his anger get the better of him when it came to that sudden verbal attack. Now, he was about to be swarmed by the guard and had to get out of there. Turning around again, he ran up to the counter and swiped what coin the shop owner had procured before running off into the street. Justin hoped that the shop owner was scared enough to start paying for protection as of the morning and that the job was successful.

As soon as he stepped onto the stone pavement, Justin saw that guards were coming at him from either direction. Directly across from him was an alleyway, his only chance at escape. Darting forward, he made way for the alley with as much speed and intensity as he could. Rushing ahead, he made it maybe forty feet into the brick tunnel like escape route until he had found... that the darkness of the night had covered the fact that this was a dead end.

Behind Justin, a troop of the city's forces had come upon him. Justin sighed, knowing that he had no chance. Laying down his pistol and the bag of coins, the criminal got on his knees and put his hands behind his head. Although every ounce of the man wanted to fight as much as he could, Justin knew that it would only cause more trouble, if not his death. If he was lucky, he'd be out in a few months time.

Status = Caught

[Arkitekt]

Guillan- Royal Complex Dungeons, early morning..

Y’Vanna’s nostrils were filled with the stench of stale air and mildew as she wrenched herself from the dungeon floor. She winced as she ran a hand across her face, as bits of dirt and straw had clung to the coagulated blood were torn from her wounds. She propped herself up as the throbbing pain coursed over her forehead and cheek, and the agony and pain was worse than her worst hangover had ever been. The room was dimly lit by the warm colors of distant hearths and hanging torches, none of which were very close to the small cells but could be seen from down the halls. Drops of water hitting small stagnant pools sounded like small bells chiming in processions in the background.

She rubbed her fingers over her brow and winced, the guards helmet opened up a nasty slice which still bled even though hours had passed. It was a smooth cut and bled profusely as most clean ones tended to do. She had barely recalled how she had gotten her wounds, though the memory of it all was returning to her, riding the throbbing waves of pain of her head. It all happened so very fast, and Y’Vanna was still unclear of what has caused the events as they had unfolded. Disoriented and foggy, she began to piece it all back together. She was both happy and saddened by the fact that Gail was shackled to her ankle. Glad that he was safe at least, and could be accounted for, but also sad, sad that they were both is such a terrible predicament. She realized that she felt a bit lighter than usual, and this feeling was due to her saber and dagger belts had been relieved from her.. And then the thought of it came rushing in.. the dust! She panicked and began to fidget and feel around for it, giving a sigh of relief once her fingers fell over the small lump in her crotch. There it was, still wrapped in the leather scrap and snug in it’s place.

“Oh, thank the Nines…” she said with relief.

Relieved indeed. She glanced about hoping that her feigning had not been with an audience. She was both embarrassed and ashamed that she was so dependent on the stuff. Not so much that she’d ever give a thought to giving it up.. At least not anytime soon that is. She tugged at the leather and did her best to free it from her waist as fast as she could. She pulled the leather open to find that the vial had broken, but remained mostly intact. There was only a small bit left anyway, but it was enough to get her up and out of the daze she was in. She brushed the glass shards from the small mound of powder with a finger, thankful that the glass had broken fairly neatly. She looked at it briefly before sniffing it up.. down the hatch it went. She shook out the leather and folded it, placing back under her waistline once more.

She hadn’t seen her wounds, but she could tell they would need some mending judging by the extent of the pain they were causing. This pain was waning though. Another perk of the dust was that it was also a very effective anesthetic and the effects were almost instantaneous. This alleviation allowed her to focus more on what had happened the night prior. She could still smell the cinnamon from the sweet loaf on her fingers. A small flicker of comfort in an otherwise void environment. She pulled the shackled leg in close to her and the weight of the large metal shackle and chain could be felt. She hoped that she hadn't disturbed Gail in her doing so. She had many times experienced this in her short life, being incarcerated, shackled. The feelings of confinement were not new to her, though it was still a terrible feeling. She valued her freedom, perhaps more than anything else, and her agitation was always heightened when this was jeopardized. Her plight was presumably shared by her partner in crime, and she hoped it wasn’t a terrible shock to Gail’s senses. She pursed a small smile when she had recalled his valiant efforts to keep her from sharing his ill-met fate.

[The Angry Goat]

Gail // Royal Complex Dungeons // Mildew and Jail Cells

Gail sighed as he lay on the dungeon floor, looking up at the ceiling. How the hell had this happened? 4 years of being the supplier in his neck of the woods, not once was there ever a problem like this. It had become routine, normal, just a side gig he did to keep the money flowing for his real passion. But now the guard suddenly cared? Enough for him to be in the Royal Dungeons. Gods, there was no way this was going to end well, and he just had to drag Y'vanna around into it. He grunted as he sat up, and had a look around the cell, pointedly avoiding looking at Y'Vanna for a moment, mostly out of shame for getting her into this situation. But then, he supposed, they were shackled at the leg, so they'd have to look at each other eventually. The dungeon was, well, dungeon-ey. dark, full of mildew and mold, wet, the silence only really disturbed by the clanking of the leg shackle and the occasional noises from the floor above. The only real thing of interest outside of his cellmate was the man the next cell down, sitting there, somehow... lit? by something?

Gail mentally shrugged. He could do weird shit to. speaking of, actually... he realized as he turned to Y'Vanna that he could probably be of some assistance on that route. "I... uh...... Sorry for this," he awkwardly choked out. clearing his throat, he continued. "I got us into this shithole, but I can probably at least help with your head."

Gail had, in fact, no idea how good of an idea it was to try and heal the cut. But, it was still bleeding, and it's not like he really needed his consciousness if he did end up failing, so what the hell? "Hold still, and be ready to catch me if I pass out." he said as he carefully brought his hand up to the wound, willing the magic into his fingers. as he brought them slowly across her forehead, blood staining them as he did so. Moving left to right, the gash began to scab over; ugly, crusty, and perhaps likely to leave a scar, but nonetheless, heal it he did. The world was spinning hard now, and he was beginning to feel nauseous. Gail gingerly lay down on the damp floor, somewhat aware of the water dampening his clothes even more, but not really being bothered by it, focused as he was on not puking as he closed his eyes, bringing his hands over them to block out the dim light. That went surprisingly well he thought, as his mind moved on to wondering where this was leading the two of them.

And come to think of it, wasn't it a tad odd that the guards put the two of them together? Especially since they were caught in the same spot? I guess that guard captain really did believe me...

[Genbor]

Guillan - Royal Complex: Dungeons, Early Morning

Lautrec

Lautrec looked up from his work. Thankfully the cells weren’t very clean, or regularly cleaned for that matter, so there was plenty of dust and dirt to work with. He would much rather have something more permanent, but there was little to no breeze down here and it would suffice. As there were no guards present he allowed himself Willow’s comforting presence, her warm light enveloping his cell in a small glow.

He wiped the sweat from his brow as he glanced around at his neighbours. Next to his cell was a younger couple, the woman still bleeding from some gash on her head. He didn’t know what they got themselves into, but they probably deserved it. The people down here were probably despicable criminals, capable of heinous acts of crime. It was the Dungeons beneath the Royal Complex after all.

Only the worst of the scum, and treasonous courtly officials, were said to be sent here, so surely they must have misplaced him here, as he was innocent. His only crime was getting caught after all… He looked across his cell and saw a large burly man whom he recognized as Justin Bark, a particularly lunatic lumbering hulk of a madman. He was said to eat the kidneys of kids for breakfast. In the cell adjacent to him was a child of all people, and Lautrec wondered what kind of crime the kid could have committed to get themselves sentenced here. If being next to Justin was any indication of her crimes, he probably was best left not knowing. Still, if the rumors about Justin were true, he didn’t envy the child’s kidneys when Justin got hungry.

The woman stirred in the next cell, and finally woke from her peaceful slumber. Lautrec decided it was best to hurry with what he was doing, before he ran out of time. He looked back down at the dusty floor and continued tracing patterns around where he was seated on the floor. The pattern consisted of circles and strange shapes, with him being at the center of it. He did make sure to mark extra shapes in the direction of Justin’s cell. With his charms and fetishes confiscated, he didn’t want to leave anything to chance.

By the time he was done with his work, the young man of the psychotic murderous duo stirred and woke up as well. Lautrec watched from the corner of his eye what he was doing before focusing back at his ward. Under careful scrutiny he made some extra adjustments and clapped twice to activate the ward he had made. Now he was safe enough until the guards came and rescued him from this place, once the misunderstanding was cleared up.

[Peaceless]

A short stalactite, aimed at the face of the shortest prisoner in the Royal Dungeon, released small drops of water from the ceiling at near-constant intervals that would prove to be quite chaotic if someone would actually sit down and record them. They would explode against her forehead, cleaning a small blotch of dust and machine oil, the shape resembling a gunshot wound. A breeze made the next dangling drop change course slightly, falling at an alarming rate towards the girl's eye... but finding a leather glove instead.

Harmony blinked herself awake. The look of the metallic protrusion used to hold the bench she lay on gave her an immediate splitting pain in the forehead. Soon after, her entire body joined in. Sore back, sore feet, burning sensation in the throat, itching eyes, and a powerful urge to cough her guts out, attacked in unison. She spent an agonizing few seconds looking for a blanket to just go back to sleep, and realizing she didn't actually have one, sprung to her feet and walked towards the bars of the cell.

The previous night was foggy, and she did remember taking longer than usual to get to the guardhouse, but where the hell was this? It was so gigantic, with corridors extending out of view in every direction, weird echoes and shadows... There was no way the guards managed to renovate and extend their dungeon in such a short time. Then there were the royal sigils on some of the iron protrusions used to hold the lanterns... Could it be?

She was suddenly struck by an urge to look around her cell. If her guess was correct, this was bad. And why would fate disappoint? A gigantic, scarred man sat against the wall across her, his eyes hidden by a shadow that his forehead cast on his face. Sitting down, he was almost as tall as her. Her hands slapped against her tunic instinctively, quickly searching for anything the guards let her keep on her person, anything that wouldn't look important enough to take - It was at this time she realized how much of a vice it was to keep tidy and organized pockets. Everything looked important.

Then again, they did let her keep her clothes, and weren't as smart. She found one of the more useful tools she made herself, hidden in a double seam in her undershirt. A thin iron rod, about six inches in length, sharpened to a point on one end, chiseled to have protrusions of various shapes on the other. It could double up as a low quality replacement for half of her tools, and had saved her skin more than once. As a weapon, it wasn't deadly at all, unless it goes into a person's ear, eye, artery, privates, and other unpleasant options. Indeed, the element of surprise was her only advantage. And she hated it.

It took immense effort for her to not shake the giant awake to get the whole thing over with. Instead, she tried to push her head against the bars. The cells were not made to keep children, and she had the feeling that with a few grazes, her skull would pass through. Her hips, however, were an entirely different story. But even if she were ten years younger - where would she run? The place was probably swarming with guards. And the entire story was suspicious as hell - Sure, she was framed, but how does a dustie that'd done no harm other than toss some chairs find herself in the Royal Dungeon?!

In a ritualistic manner that probably made absolutely no difference, Harmony sat crosslegged in front of the bars, removed one glove and put her hand on the cold, ancient iron. Her eyes closed, she tried to remember the night before, but not in the normal sense - She tried to recall memories she did not have, events she did not witness. At first it was all noise, but as she recalled her nightly trip, she noticed a change of hands between the patrol leading her and another. They seemed confused. She then remembered sitting in the cell across, hurt and angry, disappointed and helpless, disgusted and wary. In a furtive, fearful kind of way her attention shifted to her own cell. The feeling was of a brilliant diamond, cut by a master craftsman, sunk into an infinitely large tank of oily mud.

Weird. But you can't argue with the results.

She got up again, put her glove back on, and waved at the three sitting in the cells across.

[Arkitekt]

Guillan- Royal Complex Dungeons, Early Morning

She could hardly believe what had just happened. She had not known Gail to possess magic. Sure, she knew he dabbled in healing salves and ointments, potions and the like, but she thought it was little more than a hobby. Never would she have guessed him to be capable of such a remarkable feat. Not that she would have in the first place. I mean he was only a dealer to her.. at least that what she told herself in her head. However, as far as friends go, he was about the closest thing she had to one here in Guillan, or anywhere for that matter. The only other person she knew better was the wretched old sow of the tented pub she had grown so accustomed to, and she was hardly a friend. She pulled a hand up to feel the wound in disbelief. Her fingers brushed over the scab which flaked when she did, jarring most of it loose. The pain had all but subdued as well. Remarkable, she thought to herself.

"How in the Nines di-" she started speaking but cut herself short at the sight of a now peakish looking Gail, who now took refuge on the floor.

Y'Vanna knew very little about magic, but she had heard that such feats were very taxing on the wielder. She plopped herself down beside of him, pulling his clothes from a puddle that he seemingly cared little about as he neglected to acknowledge its place underneath him. She did her best to drag him free from it, though the entire flooring and even the walls were damp and glistening. Still yet, the dungeon had it's ups. It was far cooler than the streets above, but the air was stale and hardly worth breathing. She tilted her head up, catching a glimpse of a peculiar fellow next to them.. an odd one indeed. He was pacing about and clapping, making diagrams or something on the dungeon floor.. The whole thing reminded her of a tropical bird, dancing to entice it's partner. She had seen this many times in Avondyllac, and it made her chuckle slightly.
She did her best not to stare at him, even though the whole thing was quite entertaining. She would've all but forgotten she was behind the irons had she watched him any longer. Her attention then shifted to the bloke across from her, and the small one next to him. The two made quite the pair, and the contrast between their sizes was almost laughable. The rather large fellow looked very unapproachable, and would surely be able to crush a lesser man's skull with some ease. She could only speculate what he had done to be here, in this predicament that they all now shared. It mattered little what he did.. they were all in the same boat regardless. The smaller one was an odd one too, giving a friendly wave in such an odd circumstance, she thought. Catching droplets on her forehead, and tinkering with some sort of shank, at least that's what it looked like in the dimly lit corridor.
Her thoughts shifted back to a happier time, before the pub, before Guillan.. before the dust, and before her father's death. She could almost feel the cool breeze coming off the shoreline back home, and if she tried really hard, she could hear his voice.. "Father.." she whispered softly.



Her dreaming was cut short as two guards approached from down the stairwell. A waft of a food smell permeated the air, and it wasn't the pleasant kind either. It had been days since she had eaten anything proper, save for the small morcel of the sweetloaf she had gotten for Gail.. The poor fellow hadn't even had the chance to eat a single bite of it either, she recalled. The two guards were carrying on about something, but it was unclear what, the clanking of the ladle and bucket, chainmail rustling, and an awful echo reverberated over every word, making most of it inaudible. The pair rounded the corner and were now in her line of sight, a surly and rugged pair they were. Greasy looking, and definitely ill kempt. These guards were not of the same caliber as those who roamed the streets and markets above. This was indeed certain.

"Alright you dogs, lap it up then.." said the one with the bucket. "Seems the King has special plans for you lot.. eat up. Don't want you to be perish'n before he has his moment with yous."

The other guard was right on his heels with an armful of shallow bowls, nestled tightly between his arm and his armpit. The sight was almost enough to make Y'Vanna gag. They were a grotesque pair, and she had a hard time determining whether the stench was coming from them or the bucket. Either way, she was nauseous, so she guessed that it made little difference at this point. The guard held out a bowl and the other tossed a dollop of porridge into it, making a fwapp sound. It was an oatmeal looking substance, steaming and thick, it seemed as though it didn't want to let go of the ladle either. The guards both laughed as they tossed the bowls under the bars to each of them. The bowls made quite a racket as they slid across the cold stones.

It was definitely the porridge..