[IC] [D&D 5e] Shadow World ~ A West Marches Campaign

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Prologue

Shadow World

---

Prologue

---

Who among mortal kind can know the thoughts of the divine. How can that which is omnipotent and omniscient be deciphered, predicted, and really understood. Perhaps Their scions and avatars might come close, yet in the end they are still mortal kind, and their minds often clouded with egotism and selfish desires. Even altruism can be a blinder that leads ones steps astray. Yet there often is, among the religious, an epiphany that comes as if a gift from the Gods. A moment of clarity and deep understanding that one might have actually found their chosen path, their fate, their destiny.

It was one such moment that struck the young acolyte Phastian. It was the aftermath of yet another beating the young priest endured for his preachings on the streets of Haven of the wonders of Larethian, Issaries, Molodin, and Pelor. It stuck the young man, as he lay holding his sides and coughing up blood, just as sure as the fists of the ruffians who beat him.

What benefit is there to worshiping the Gods who had so readily abandoned the world? They do not hear his prayers, do not stay the attacks of the unrighteous, and care not for virtuous and sinner alike. His mentors would tell him that they walk the path of redemption for all mortal kind.

Then the darkness came.

Phastian left the temple of liars and traveled into the wilderness, braving the creeping shadow that swallowed the world. He would find that he is brave and strong. Raiding deep ruins, uncovering powerful magical artifacts, and gathering supporters to his cause, Phastian realized that those deities in exile, who choose to doom and forget the world, their creation, were not worthy of worship. Yet there was one whose power loomed in the deepest of shadows, in the dark corners of ones mind, uttered in the last gasp of tortured life to the sweet release of death. It was Nerull, God of Darkness, and the only God to pull the world to his embrace.

Phastian was cautious, studious, and relentless. He wielded the awesome power of shadow magic, and all trembled before his might, that is before the Heroes of Haven. He had been so close to his goal, to his life's ambition. He was in the closing moments of a ritual that would bring Nerull to this world. He believed he was Nerull's chosen, his scion and champion. Indeed he was important to the God, but again he was mortal. How could he begin to understand Nerull's true plans for him.

As the flesh of the sacrifice was cut, and the blood dripped onto the shadow rune upon the stone floor, the heroes of Haven burst into the chamber prepared for the toughest fight of their lives. The heroes had vanquished the goblin hordes protecting the ruin, navigated the traps throughout the decrepit corridors, and slew the cultists and undead that barred their path.

A valiant effort, but all for nought, thought Phastian. All their toil merely to come just in time to witness my glory, my ascension to immortality, and the coming of Nerull.

To Nerull, however, Phastian was but a vessel. A means to obtain the true prize, being the heroes themselves. Nerull's scion felt he was on the cusp of some great victory, that the power coursing through his veins was his, but alas, he was but a mortal. Nerull, on the other hand, is eternal. Phastian's weak body contorted and twisted, his bones breaking and shattering within the weak sack of flesh that encompassed it. Within moments, before the eyes of the heroes, it erupted, and demons came pouring forth from the lump of gore that remained.

The heroes fought valiantly, indeed their victory had come close, but the Shadow God would not be denied, new vessels to add to his army.

Phastian had got it wrong. What would a god want with a dying world when a far more tempting prize lay beyond.

Days later, rangers dispatched from Haven would walk the same ruins as their heroes, yet there would be no sign them, save for the lump of rotted flesh that was once Phastian.

Shadow World

---

Chapter One: Founders' Day

---

28th of the Sixth Moon, 12th Year of Darkness...

Haven, the last city. A remnant of a world long gone, a shadow of its former glory, and a fading jewel whose high walls and battlements do little to break the encroaching darkness. This city has stood for two thousand years, but like all else in this world, it will die. Yet this harsh reality is not so much forgotten, but at least suspended, for Founders Day. It is a day of celebration where people from all over Great Maw and the wider world gather to celebrate the captains of Edric Godsbane who settled here and built this city.

Once a place of civility and learning, it has fallen far, and though it may be in its death throes, the citizens still try in vain to capture but a glimmer of what once was, at least for a day. The harbour is packed with ships flying banners from Amnon, Eclor, and Idoth. Halflings, Elves, and even tieflings pay their docking fees and trek up the Lord's Road to the main gate of the city.

Before the main gate, at a cross roads, weary sailors are met with weary travelers from the baronies, Pax, and Razor. The procession of revelers and merchants make their way to the gates of the city, the road lamps burning bright with whale oil, and many not waiting for the actual festival in two days time to tip their skins and drink their share of ergot beer.

The Khagon Empire may threaten with conquest, darkness and the horrors of a wilderness untamed may loom ever closer, but for this day at least, let all that be forgotten.

At the main gate a great banner is unfurled above the iron gates, illuminated by a hundred torches that burn so brightly the sky is aglow.

WELCOME TO HAVEN

[rush99999]

Suddenly, the door of a nearby tavern was flung open and an intoxicated beard with legs (also known as a dwarf) was spat out onto the street. As the door slammed shut behind him, Durwith Bronzebeard picked himself up and brushed himself off. Though the day was supposed to be 1 of happiness and festivities, Durwith was even grumpier than he usually was. He'd been thrown out of the watch earlier that day for asinine reasons, and now he had been thrown out of his favorite tavern for even more asinine reasons. Needless to say, Durwith wasn't having the best day. With nothing better to do, Durwith had a wonder around the festivities. "Wonder if the goblin fights are open" Durwith mused to himself as he navigated his way through the crowd in search of something to do.

[dndragons]

Saya Rosewell

Saya crested over the hill almost two miles out from haven to catch glimpse of the City for the first time since her travel began. Hand resting against one of the sparse trees by the road, something about its sight gave her a sigh of relief as well as a rising anxiety. The fact she had made it was good, but she knew behind her some distance away was why she needed to make it in the first place. As she glanced back, she noticed a cart slowly having caught up on her in the distance carrying what seemed to be bushels of various crops from a village. The man wore garb that seemed to indicate him as a merchant by the quality, and as she peered in the distance at him she quickly adjusted the odd fitting armor and clothes she had been able to scrounge up on her way there. While it looked alright on her, the form fit was cut to that of a man as the seller at the time didn’t have anything available her and it made her wish she had enough gold to get it refitted left. “It’ll have to do-“ she muttered to herself as she waited for the cart to roll up and gave a wave towards the man. “Sorry, but I’ve been traveling through the night. I was hoping you could give me a lift on in towards the gate.” She asked with a calm smile, and fortunately for her she man seemed to notice the necklace she had hanging above her collar and called out to her that he too followed the way of Issaries. Climbing aboard with help from the generous merchant the main gate into Haven was eventually upon her.

Gazing up the wall in strange awe, Saya didn’t think the city would look so grand when a few days before she thought she may end up here still in bindings. She had heard she was going to be presented to a possible buyer, but clearly she hadn’t stuck around long enough to find out who it was. Haven was the closest place of refuge at the time, and thankfully the festival gave her a good crowd to hide in as the city became more and more packed with travelers, merchants, artisans and more. The gate guard easily let her pass with an inspection that her only weapon for self defense was a dagger, and after saying goodbye to the merchant she hopped off the cart and moved between the people littering the streets to find a place of rest on a bench with a small meat-stick in hand from a vendor who gave her a sample, despite stating she wasn’t looking to buy. Munching on what she could, Saya continued to look around the preparation for the festivities as she tried to discern which way to go. “It’s so much bigger than home" she spoke softly to herself as she was lost simply by not having a current target. As a city watchman moved by, she took action by standing up and getting his attention with a tap on the shoulder form behind. Once he turned she gingerly asked. “Excuse me, but could you possibly point me in the direction where one could find work? An odd job or two?” After a moment of him asking to repeat what she had said as her hushed voice didn’t break past the noise of the guard, she soon had directions to find what she had missed closer to the gate behind her.

[rush99999]

Although he was drunk, his instincts as a watchman were no less sharp. In fact, Durwith believed his instincts worked 10 times better when he had a flagon or 2 in him. Out of the corner of his eye, Durwith noticed a shady deal going down in an alleyway. He looked around for a nearby watchman to report it to, but found none. After looking about, Durwith shrugged and continued on walking. Upholding the law wasn't his problem anymore anyway.

Soon enough, Durwith came upon the goblin fight pavilion. The proprietors were running a few preliminary fights to weed out the weaker goblins so that only the stronger specimens featured on the day of the main event. After finding himself a good spot to watch the action, Durwith went to find out what the odds were for the next fight.

[deadpixel101]

She loved this feeling. A salty breeze rolling over her cheeks with her eyes closed, taking in the sensation without sight. When she opened them she saw the sight of what sailing really meant to her. A clear sky, with no land in sight and the sun just rising, creating a beautiful golden backdrop for the purplish clouds to caress, and the shimmering line of reflected light to look like a sunken mountain of gold. It was nothing but everything, possibility manifest in the freedom that a ship granted. Travelling faster and farther than anyone else with no one to tell you to stay put. It was her life, and she loved it.

"What do you see?"

A familiar voice shouted from down bellow. Sylvia looked over the railing of the crow's nest to see a familiar shape on the deck. Her friend and cabin-mate grinning in the cold morning air. When she chuckled to match his useless question the heat from her breath let vapors trail in front of her nose. She wasn't as bundled up as she should be, but it certainly woke her up like this.

"I'll come down and let you know!" She shouted gleefully downward, already climbing down the main mast. She had done this a thousand times and felt no fear in the height. But when one foot pushed the ladder plank out, and the one second of unnoticed left her free-falling, she remembered fear once again.

---

And her eye opened. Her heart was racing now. She starred up at the wooden ceiling of the inn room she had rented. The booze of last night making her head still swim a little. She groaned as she sat up, looking around her room. Thankfully there were no clothes strewn about, meaning she was the only one who had slept here last night. She sighed and grabbed the headband from her bedside table, and placed it where it belonged. Keeping her mess of hair out of her one good eye, and covering the ghastly stitched up one. She stood up with another groan and made her way to the window, needing to air out the night of merriment. She propped the wooden hatch open and rested her chin in her palm, overlooking a street of shops. The sound of a merchant's aid unloading heavy boxes of drink nearby is what awoke her. Gods what time was it? She must have been out for a while. That meant she needed to stretch her legs. With a stretch of her arms behind her back and set to gathering her things. Once sure they were all there she suited up and made her way outside. She was in a pretty good mood despite the dream, so she payed her tab on the way out.

Once she was in the hustle and bustle of the city, she took a deep breath, trying to recapture any feeling of a morning on the seas. It didn't come to her, naturally; but she didn't feel a fool for trying. She just shrugged inwardly and set to it. Might as well pick up a job while she's about. There's always gold to be made.

[dndragons]

Saya Rosewell

Saya noticed the sounds of growling vibrate in her inner ear just over the noise of the people she had been walking past. Slipping through the congested space, she saw down the dim lit alley the pair of dogs fighting what seemed to be a small scrap of meat, definitely too small for it to qualify as shareable. Their postures were fierce, but one definitely seemed like the harder fighter as it drove off the other dog soon afterwards. Saya noted the stick of meat she still had in her hand, and despite it tasting far better than the dried and barely edible rations she had taken she knew that she could hardly let a dog live off dried crusted bread from that instead. Hell, if it wasn’t careful it would likely choke on the stuff. So, she tossed the stick she had forward and down to the mastiff that had lost and hastily made her way gone, doing her best to ignore the sight of the wounds it had as healing such minor injuries wouldn’t benefit her in staying safe. The job board thankfully was nearby, and her thoughts moved to the papers posted there instead of the small moment of guilt.

As her eyes scrolled through the notifications, she instantly was curious about the missing women. Her eyes shifted around herself on instinct, wondering if it was a case of slaver scum or something even more heinous. A bit of hope sank within her now that she felt like she may need to worry about more news of that coming in rather than just her own problem. If thirteen women had been taken though, could she actually get that done herself? Finding the rat posted noted above it she found solace in a task she didn’t think would be too hard even for her. “Just any old rat?” she said to herself. When they had a rat problem where she came from, they just brought in a cat to deal with it. Though, perhaps they don’t want stray cats to then become an issue in the crowded city and higher mice population- Gah, she thought to herself. Rats still were annoying even if it seemed to pose less danger than the women. Taking off from the sign she was at least determined to see if she could make enough silver to pay the inn tonight. The alleyway the dogs had started in seemed like a good start though, people had been throwing food in it already.

[Cu Chulainn]

Ahrem of Haven

Knight of the Black Sword

---

Haven Library

Tourneys are a way for knights to prove themselves as the true warriors they are sworn to be. It is what separates knights of true mettle from the petty lords who sit in their manors all day getting fat.

And only recently, Ahrem understood this opportunity in a new light.

For the past few days, the young man has had strange dreams... ones of knights jousting and dueling. At first, he thought this was just his curse mocking him of his birthright, showing him harrowing visions of what could have been. At least, until this morning, when he heard the heraldic call of the Town Crier announcing the Tourney on Founder's Day. Ahrem knew his curse was, once again, trying to lead him to a battle he cannot avoid, and it was indeed something that was tempting even for him. This tourney could prove a chance for Ahrem to bring back his family into grace. A chance to begin at clearing his family name...

Ahrem was no warrior, that he knew. The few fight's he's fought through, it was through his endurance alone. He needed as much time as he could training with his blade. He didn't have to win the Tourney, but only leave a lasting impression for the other lords, and even Lord Gyus, himself. Perhaps he could enter into knighthood and serve as a vassal to one of the major lords of Haven. With the endorsement of a lord, he may be able to accomplish his goal at restoring his family's honor, and even have enough resources to wipe away the stain that is this blasted curse...

... But he didn't even have a name to begin with.

Ahrem knew he needed a way to prove of his family's existence, and he knew of one place he could start in finding it... the Library. For the past three years, he has spent countless nights pouring over its tomes, learning of different curses and remedies to them, yet he hasn't found a damned thing about his own curse. Perhaps something as strange and unique as this mark may be hard to find information on, but he's sure that if his family were once one of the Highborn, then it's likely he will be able to find something that proves he is of noble blood.

Entering the library, hooded as always, Ahrem made his way down the aisles of bookshelves, remembering which section hosted tomes and scrolls of history, namely concerning the history of noble families. Ahrem was doubtful that he could find exactly what he needed, here, so he focused on looking for any information on locations or archives that would house such resources.

And even then, he could only hope to find what he was looking for before Founder's Day.

[rush99999]

The 1st of the preliminary fights was between a pair of sorry looking goblins named after a distinguishing accessory they bore. The odds were a cool 3 to 1 in favor of the goblin with the red cap. Deciding to make a safe bet, Durwith placed a 4 gp bet on Red Cap's victory. It turned out to be a smart move, as soon after the fight had begun, Red Cap butchered his opponent with the same murderous fervor as the fey creature it was named for. With the fight won by the goblin he backed, Durwith's bet was returned to him along with an additional 4 gold pieces. Stowing 6 of the 8 gold pieces in his coin pouch, Durwith waited for the odds of the next fight to be announced.

[deadpixel101]

A familiar light fingered feeling tugs at Sylvia's waist. She whips around to snatch a scrawny wrist in her hand, attached to a ragged look boy. He was pretty brave for his part, still attempting to pry the gold right out from under Sylvia. A wordless and swift production of a dagger was enough to finally cause him to let go. Before he was able to flee into the crowd though a flash of familiarity reached the pirate woman's mind.

"Hmmm..."

She hummed aloud, re-situating her blade and her money back into place. It looked like one Rambling Lockwood might be in town. A fellow pirate, always scheming. That or some of his crew jumped ship; but she knew that was unlikely. This many people all in one place? He was bound to have something on the go. She debated at first for following the boy, but the crowds were thick, and he moved through them with more ease than she would. That being said, she had one good eye, and that was usually enough.

She broke into a sprint after him, trying her best to keep aware of where he was going. With a little luck, she did in fact. The little thief ran into an inn after a small chase, and Sylvia stayed behind, peering around a corner. "The Cravin Kraken boarding house huh? A little on the nose..." She muttered to herself, the appearance of a smile threatening to upturn her lips. Well she had a few options now. She could simply waltz in, maybe have a chat with the man. It's not like they were sworn enemies or anything, and she was just curious. It's also not like she cared to protect anyone from him or his scheme, if anything she might want in. With a shrug of the shoulder, she adjusted her belt, weapons and everything into place to feel a little more comfortable. Time to do business.

With a keen pace she mad her way to the front doors, and pushed them open. Walking into the commons area she shouted alout:

"LOCKWOOD! LET'S HAVE A CHAT!"

Loud enough that assuredly someone from his crew would take note.

[dndragons]

Saya Rosewell

Saya moved her way back into the alley once she came and held a hand up to cover her face as the smell hit her now that she had actually stepped into it. Unfortunately, with more people tossing trash around, it seems whoever was in charge of cleaning such areas up was behind schedule and hadn’t gotten to this location yet. While the dogs were no longer there, it at least seemed to be a good place to start in her mind as she walked through the corridor. The buildings around her made her wonder what they may have inside, the quality and size of the structures certainly impressed her, but as she trailed her finger along the stone walls of the buildings she noticed she had become distracted and turned around once again to see if she had missed anything. Yet, she was not successful in spotting any rodents. With a sigh she continued forth, but she was getting the idea that the rats were good enough at avoiding her due to the sound she made and may have gotten used to people trying to catch them for some silver. “I wonder if the perpetual night made them more active?” she asked herself. A not too unlikely reason as to why the infestation occurred now, but it’s been ten years and she had no idea if any of this built up gradually since then.

Slightly annoyed, and hungrier than earlier she resisted the urge to curse under her breath when she found herself back in the mains square, having been turned around in the maze of alleys. She had wasted a fair amount of time, and the rat problem seemed to not be giving her a real solution to gaining money. However, she didn’t exactly have a job waiting for her still. She had heard news that the temple within Haven had a revival and surge of good will not too long ago, but she never did confirm it. Holding her necklace gently she gazed around and determined perhaps she could help there with any small job for a little while. It was better than nothing, but she didn’t expect her to be able to stay there more than a day or two and be left alone. As her legs moved her forward, and another guard gave her directions, she began her movement towards the holy site.

[rush99999]

Durwith watched as another 2 goblins were led into the arena. This time, they had paired up a scrappy goblin named after a distinct scar over his right eye with a scrawny goblin named after its pot belly. When the odds were announced as 6:1, Durwith produced another 2 gold pieces from his coin pouch and made another 4 gp bet on Scar. But when the goblins were let loose and the fight began, Scar's victory wasn't as in the bag as everyone thought it would be. By the end of the fight, Scar lay dead and Milk Belly walked away as the winner. Although he'd lost money because of that win, Durwith still cheered for the victor anyway. He had great respect for those who could win even when the odds were against them. As he waited for the next fight, Durwith pulled out another 4 gp. Slowly but surely, he was beginning to forget his woes for a time.

[Pennydumb123]

GREGORII FIREFIST

The Sun, a big ball of light, life and love. The Sun was a amazing thing, it lit up Gregorii's life, it kept him warm, it let him be happy. The Sun was Gregorii's favorite thing, and he knew that he would never see it again.

A Small old Dwarf with a massive beard, stood hunchbacked by a window, clutching a dry hardened mop, that was used to hold himself up, Though he was weak, a sun burned inside him, not a loving sun, a big ball of fire, anger and hate was the fire that fed him, the replacement for the sun the gods took from him, like they took the light of his life, He had done nothing to deserve it, he didn't burn down heaven like Edric did, in fact he wasn't even born when that happened, yet still he was forced to suffer for the sins of a dead man. He understood why Edric tried to kill the gods, they were pretentious, giving humanity death instead of love, for the most frivolous of reasons, Would a father not want his son to be happy?. Son, it rhymed with Sun.

Gregorii stood in the library, staring through a window, staring at a empty dark sky, staring at the void that the sun once sat in. When the Sun had set forever, it unleashed a deadly disease known as the Grey Death, carried by rats it took the lives of his family, causing them to rapidly age in a couple hours, he never even got to say goodbye, he had simply come home one day, and found a pile of ash where his dad and mother once was, he was 7 when that happened, as a result no one taught Gregorii how to laugh, and now he had a steel frown instead. It was the anniversary of his parent's death, the 10th. Last year on the exact same date, he had got the same disease, though he was able to cure it in time, he had lost his youth, he was still a minor, and had grey hair. How ironic that he had gotten the same disease at the exact time his parents got it?, it had to be a message from the gods, probably some pretentious nonsense. He would make the gods suffer for the horrid life they gave him, they would suffer for giving him sand instead of a sandwich, he would rage against the heavens, until their was nothing left but ashes, He remembers the day it happened, a priest of Pelor cured a child with the same disease, The priest was celebrated as a hero for saving one, as thousands suffered and died. It was funny, thousands die of a disease and no one notices, the gods spare one and it's "a miracle".

He searched through the library, looking for a book, any book that could help him with his nihilistic crusade. Life had no meaning to Gregorii, he was free to do what he wants, and damn the consequences, damn those who tried to constrain him, and damn the gods who gave life a meaning as deep as a puddle. Worship was the meaning of life to the gods, what a bunch of narcissists. Gregorii scanned the bookshelves, he was going to rage against heaven, but he needed to know how.

[Default]

Culmith Woodhaven

As Culmith stepped through the gates of Haven, he couldn't help but be excited. Founder's day was a day where he could forget how the gods had scorned all mortals and left them to die. It was a day where he could fool around and have fun without a sense of dread creeping into every activity. Raised in a small village miles from the nearest civilization, he was used to keeping his head on a swivel for any intrusion of monsters or bandits alike. As he stood just inside the gate, a few regarded him with strange looks. Culmith ignored them and continued to think about how he could celebrate this day. He ultimately decided to go to a tavern and have a bit of fun. As he walked towards a respectable looking tavern, he saw a temple, and did his best to hide his disgust. These days, he didn't dare reveal his nihilism, for fear that those who supported the gods would scorn him and even kill him. And Culmith didn't intend to die anytime soon.

[rush99999]

Another round was fight was about to start at the goblin fights pavilion. This time, it was between a goblin with a missing ear and a goblin with a missing incisor fang. Durwith had placed a bet on the goblin with 1 ear, once again betting on who the odds favored. For a 2nd time now, the goblin who wasn't expected to win claimed victory despite the odds being against them. Durwith cheered at this as he went for another 4 gold pieces for the next fight. He was enjoying himself very much now, all the troubles the day had brought had been pushed to the back of his mind as he enjoyed himself watching goblins fight each other.

[Cu Chulainn]

Ahrem of Haven

Knight of the Black Sword

---

Haven

Ahrem marched down the streets, hooded once again with a new purpose. He didn’t express it as much, earlier, but now that he is outside the Library, he realized how overjoyed he was about the news. The High Wizard, himself, granting him a Scroll of Pedigree. He almost felt the need to start hopping and skipping over to the notice boards, with a wide smile on his face, as he sang ballads of how joyous this day is.

But alas, ever the stoic, Ahrem only stuck with a slight smile on his face. He still needed to prove that he was of noble character, and he didn’t need to make a fool of himself howling and hopping in the middle of the streets like a crazed toad. And for him, the day wasn’t quite over, yet.

---

Ahrem stood in front of the notice boards, eying the different quests available. The City Watch was, as always, looking for new recruits. Given how his curse has mystically instilled upon him martial abilities he had not known before as well as a means to overcome his lack of physical prowess, he would have actually considered enlisting if not for the fact that it would be a long-term obligation. And besides, he came here to find something notable for him to be recognized, not devote his life to being a beat cop.

As his eyes continued to scan the board, he almost yawned at some of these requests. Rats? No noble would be caught dead dealing with rats! That might define his character in a different way. And the brigands? That felt like absolute suicide to him, at this time, walking into the middle of a bandit’s camp with his current set of expertise. Not even his strongest spell could take on an organized group in their own turf. That leaves only one option.

Missing persons. Ahrem overlooked it at first, but after giving it a second read, he realized how perfect this was for him. One of the missing persons listed was a noblewoman. This would definitely net him some form of patronage, if he is able to provide significant aid in solving it. His years spent in the library finding any obscure information about his curse has also done much good to his sleuthing skills, so he’ll be able to provide a fair amount of assistance. And most of all, this case hits Ahrem close to home. He’s lived with his mother most of his life and he still tries his best to provide for her, so the thought of her, so the thought of a child having their mother snatched away in the shadows of the darkest city streets did not sit well with Ahrem.

”... Missing women, huh? I suppose I could start by narrowing down where these women were last seen.”

[dndragons]

Saya Rosewell

---

Saya struggled on her path through the city. The hustle and bustle was far and away the greatest magnitude she had experienced as stalls were being set up, lights being added, shipments moving and much more. Despite having been given directions, just seeing past the crowd at some points while avoiding being run over by carts carrying their respective packages and materials was difficult. At multiple points, she had to get out of the crowd making her uncomfortable to take a break and recognize her surroundings. Sweat dripped from her brow before she wiped it away and she felt her heart pulse a bit before she took a few dep breaths. It was clear she was lost again though when she noticed a statue she had seen a while earlier, and when she gained this knowledge she tried to recount the instructions she was given. “Oh no…” she groaned as she looked to her feet. She already was on a time limit, and she was already feeling in over her head just making sense of Haven. Staying in one place though wouldn’t help, and quickly she moved to attempt and make it somewhere, anywhere of use. Lifting her hood up she moved back into the crowd.

She was only spat out from the rest of the people busy preparing for festivities when she was back next to the main gate once again. And as she dealt with the fact this had occurred she heard the cry of horses and tripped over herself getting out of the way of a carriage whose rider quickly cursed her. Dirt covered her cloak before she got up to shake it off and rub the side she had fallen on. The way people moved and avoided each other’s paths in such a populated place was certainly something she needed to get used to after being dragged around unable to choose where she went before. I’ve wasted nearly half a day! Saya thought to herself with disappointment. Rats didn’t seem to be the answer she needed and while the temple was an option she figured it would be a long shot anyway.

Glancing back at the job board itself across the way and noted the man not wearing the standard guardsman armor reading the posted tasks and notices. While she hadn’t planned on it, she got the initial idea that perhaps at the least he might know where other work is if he was some kind of mercenary. Brushing her cloak off another time and getting her hood rearranged, she made her way over to the board where the man muttering of missing woman reached her keen ear. While she too had taken interest in it, she was a little surprised that the man sounded as if he was going to try and attempt it alone. “Excuse me-“ Saya began to speak as she gingerly tapped the shoulder of the scale armor clad knight. Once notice of her hooded form was taken, she took a ginger step back and commented. “I heard you talking about looking for the missing women, and I was hoping I could offer aid.” After which she swallowed to herself, hoping that offering aid rather than asking him to help her would be the better approach. “With the festival coming, I don’t like the sound of having more women disappearing from the crowds.”

[Riaxh]

Eudaxia

Eudaxia squinted at the cramped noticeboard. It had been years since she'd learned how to read, but she still had to take her time to decipher obtuse handwriting. She struggled to keep it in view as she was jostled by the large crowd that filled the square. The city was full for Founder's Day. Loud and smelly people seemed to be everywhere you went. ...plague of rats...missing women...will trade leaky pot for a cart? who writes these...bandits...
Bandits. Now that would make a change, but no... too risky, strange eldtrich powers or no. But five silver pieces a rat was a steal. It was almost too good in fact. How big did a rat have to be for it to be worth five silver when dead?

Thanks to her powers it had been a long time since she'd had to beg for her money, but she still wasn't above a dip into the sewers to kill a few rats. Taking the job meant interacting with the Watch however, which she was loathe to do anyway, but lately they'd been interrogating her kind and that made her nervous. She'd managed to steer clear of them so far, and nobody had bothered her, but she hadn't found out why yet either. "curse these horns.." she muttered absentmindedly. She'd tried to saw them off once, a long time ago. It hadn't gone well.

More importantly should she go alone, or should she get a crew? She was suspicious, but had her magic to back her up. Five silver pieces didn't seem such a good deal when you started splitting it. The festival would be soon, and she still needed a dress and mask for the masquerade. It was simply too good an opportunity to miss to scam and look for marks. It only came once a year. If she went and killed a few rats, she might have enough money to buy a costume rather than steal one, and still have decent spending money left over for the festival. She could head over to a good sewer entrance she knew, near the cemetery. Her mind made up, she was just checking her purse to make sure she hadn't lost it to the noticeboard crowd, when she caught an elbow in the head from the mass.
"ow." She grunted in annoyance. Well, they'd gotten her right in the tip of the horn, serves em right.

[Default]

Culmith Woodhaven

Culmith was about to step inside the tavern when a slaver appeared, dragging a beautiful woman. She looked like she was worth quite a large sum. The temptation was there, but ultimately he decided to do the right thing. Culmith drew his short sword, and does his best to intimidate the slaver. "Let the girl go, or I'll make you." The slaver pulled the slave closer, drawing his longsword. "Well then boy? Go ahead and make me." Culmith tried his best to hide the shaking ravaging him, then attempted a quick stab. However, the slaver had obviously been through some fights and attacked first. He left a sizable gash in Culmith's shoulder. The pain was almost instant, burning with a passion. Culmith ran into the tavern, as a swing from the slaver misses him by a long shot. The slaver left, as Culmith felt eyes staring at him. He ignored them and sat down at the bar, trying to ignore the pain. So much for justice... He thought, as sadness set in. That woman would be sold, then some sick freak would take her and lock her up, using her to satisfy himself. He sighed. I need a drink.

[Cu Chulainn]

Ahrem Grenstone

Knight of the Black Sword

---

Haven

@dndragons

”... Perhaps I can ask one of the Watch men about what they know. Maybe I could put the magic of this curse at use, for once...” Ahrem had said, to himself, once again, pondering how he should go along with this. He would have stood here for as long as an hour if his trance wasn’t broken by a tap on a shoulder and a soft call for attention. Turning around slowly, he found himself face-to-face with a hooded girl, and a rather good-looking one at that. As she spoke about offering aid as well as her surface feelings, Ahrem could not help but stare at her face, mostly not out of attraction, but mainly of curiosity. Indeed, the more he looked at her, the more he noticed some sort of... ethereal nature to her beauty. Could she be a Half-Elf? He has met only a few in his life, but they were obvious enough with their slightly pointed ears.

It was only until half a minute after she finished speaking that Ahrem noticed he was doing nothing but stare. Well, at least his eyes didn’t seem to be wandering. Clearing his throat and fixing his posture, Aheem nodded, in agreement.

”Indeed. The mere thought of a family losing a daughter, sister, or mother is something that doesn’t sit well, with me, either, especially in these tumultuous times.” Ahrem began, crossing his arms and resting his chin on his hand, thinking once again before speaking. ”Yes, I could use the assistance in solving this case. While I’ve a trained eye for details, I have only just recently taken up the sword. If this were a large conspiracy, especially, it may be dangerous to pursue this, alone... Although, might I ask, what skills have you to offer?” Ahrem asked. After a few seconds of waiting for a response, Ahrem realized another social gaff he has made. Sighing, he went on to correct himself.

”My apologies, that was rude of me. I know not of your name, yet I sound like I’m the superior. My name is Ahrem...” the young man had began, before a small but noticable hint of a smile began to manifest on his face. ”... Grenstone.” So that’s what it feels like to have a last name... ”I hope we’ll be able to work well together in solving this case, miss...?” He asked before extending a hand, to shake.

[dndragons]

Saya Rosewell

---

Saya had, by the time he noticed his staring, gingerly turned away to the point she didn’t have to keep looking back in the eyes trying to determine more about her. Scratching her cheek as he began to spoke she slowly relaxed the tense muscles she had gotten from the strange situation. At least it didn’t seem to be recognition as far as she could tell, or she would have been more worried. When he explained his relative lack of skill using a blade she carefully thought about the outcomes of going with him. She didn’t want to drag someone who couldn’t defend himself with her into anything dangerous if she didn’t have too, but he was about to depart on his own to do so just earlier by the looks of it. “I’m Saya, just Saya,” she carefully responded to start as the smile on his face allowed her to shyly smile back and take his hand for the greeting. “A pleasure,” Saya added on a moment later as she glanced back to the board to reread the notice. More so to take a second and decide how much detail she should add to her own response in terms of skills.

“I’d like to think I can at least do alright with the knife I carry-“ It was a partial truth, though when it came to killing people she didn’t fully enjoy the thought if such actions were needed. “And I tend to be able to get along with people enough to gather information or judge someone’s intentions.” With her second line she meant it more than the first. If they could find and get the women out with a few words she would be all the happier. Glancing around at their surroundings afterwards she spoke up. “The paper doesn’t really detail much though about the crime… not even a suggestion where to start or if they were taken in the same district.” Half of what she said trailed off towards the end, hoping that she didn’t seem to point out the obvious too much. “Since you were here, I think for now I could follow your lead on it. I’m new to Haven and I get a little… lost through the streets and alleys.”