Drache

Ebonfort

Welcome @VoiD and @iisbor!

Ebonfort

The RP A Common Flame has been started between Drachiathoryx and Aussir.

[Ebonfort] A Common Flame

@Krinos Solstice

[Ebonfort] A Common Flame

Starting Date and Time: Jedayan 40th, 301DM

Starting Location: The Labourer tavern in Pyresia

CS URLs: Aussir Denthanus & Drachiathoryx

Light and raucous music poured out of the open windows to the busy tavern onto the sandstone pavement beyond, mingling with the chatter and shouts of the crowd within. Beyond its windows a light breeze blew up the slope of the mountainside city from the sea, bringing both the scent of salt and the fragrance of jungle blooms to compete with the stink of sweaty bodies and stale ale. Looking down the slope to the harbour, many parts of the city glowed with a hellish light where the ornate stone culverts channeled lava safely down to the water.

The heavy stone door to the bar swung open with surprising smoothness, dwarven construction of course, under an engraved basalt sign identifying the place as The Labourer.

"Dwarves," Drache smirked a little, part exasperation, part fondness for the gruff stoneworkers and guildsmen of Pyresia. She was forced to bow her proud spiral horns under the door-frame to join the crowd. Thankfully the ceiling inside was a good bit more forgiving to non-dwarves.

Tucking her strong wings tightly to her back as she threaded her way through the crowd, the crimson beauty was unsurprised to find that she was far from the tallest person in the room. The Labourer was a known hangout for mercs and head-hunters and retired or failed arena fighters. Her amber eyes skimmed the low stage, her ear-frills catching the frantic and almost grating sound of fiddles, flutes, and drums being played at maximum volume. No doubt there was a different group of entertainers in here every night.

Not seeing the person she'd come here to meet, the shapely dragonkin made her way to the end of the bar and the last two free seats. The counter had been constructed out of a huge slab of rock, polished and finished with glass so that the spires of green gemstones glittered prettily within. Much of the decoration in any building in the city incorporated the natural seams of gems and geodes threading through the stone.

Sighing smokily, Drache lifted her tail and sat down on a wooden barstool with one long leg crossed over the other, drumming her black-clawed fingers on the smooth counter, her gleaming amber eyes following the dwarven bar-tender as he served drinks and cheap stew to patrons at the other end. other eyes followed her to her seat. There weren't many women present, other than the ones serving drinks or gradually losing their clothes in the laps of other patrons, and certainly none of those had scales.

Her hand lifted to touch a tiny quartz vial hanging from a chain around her neck while she waited. Purple wasn't normally her colour, but the tiny bottle contained a glittering purple powder that shifted as she spun it round and round.

Even in such a crowded place, Drache couldn't help but feel a certain oppressive loneliness. It was a feeling she though she'd outgrown long ago, but for some reason had returned to plague her full-force since the tragic events of the Vircastorian ruins. The voices around her seemed to fade and hear ear-frill twitched, her eyes growing unfocused, and she could almost hear the hiss of the slug-God's breath... turned it absent-mindedly. Apart from the necklace, the half-dragon wore a brown suede vest and a long black skirt slit up to the hip on both sides.

[Ebonfort] Days of Grass and Dust

Asher didn't move until the pale purple glow of Verissa's magic shield blossomed up between them, his fretful grip around her wrist broken by the Swordmaster's sense of self-preservation as he stepped back to watch it warily as it glowed and then gradually disappeared.

Up until that moment he had worn a wondous and thoughtful expression as he looked into her pale face, his shocked concern fading once he realized Verissa wasn't hurt. He quickly came to grips with the power she had kept hidden, and was not terribly surprised that she hadn't been up front about it. He naturally paused to consider the repercussions, what this meant for his Tribe, what it meant for Verissa's life among them, what it meant for him, what it meant for them, together. His mouth formed a small circle and his breath came out in a silent whoosh.

"That's amazing," he breathed, watching the patch of invisibility with the fascination of someone who appreciated magic but the caution of someone who clearly had never and would never weild it himself. But after a moment he noticed Verissa's panic. Her pale face and wide eyes, her tense and defensive posture, her rapid, shallow breathing.

"Verissa, what's wrong? Are you hurt? What are you afraid of?" He resisted the urge to step forward to comfort her, stopped by both the recent presence of the violet apparition as well as some subconscious suspicion that it was him she was afraid of. He had no way to know that the shield was still between them even if it was invisible, but fortunately did not sweep forward and crash into it.

The fighter noticed when her pretty but terrified eyes darted to the door like a frightened animal and Asher moved back, crossing his arms across his bare chest as he smoothly blocked her path, his expression growing stonier. "Don't do it, Verissa," he warned. "Please, what's wrong?"

He didn't bother translating into Kvaren right now, the situation far more tense for the trouble.

Ebonfort

Greetings to @Krinos Solstice and anyone else who is currently interested in joining! :)

[Ebonfort] The Edge of the Map

The small shadow of a fairy, as well as the occasional flutter of Dain's wings as he moved about on the ship, was not something that the men before the mast had yet learned to recognize. Their ears were attuned more to the hard crack of a man's booted heal upon the wooden decking and the clearing of a grog-wetted throat. So when the fairy rapped hard on the smooth polished door he received no answer from within, though there were certainly voices beyond. Closer at hand, however, were the surreptitious murmurs of at least two male voices down the hall. A flickering lantern cast their shadows on the wall, and even those seemed furtive and crafty, though the men they belonged to were just out of sight.

"Are there enough of us on board to make a move?" The first voice sounded young.

"I'd say so, yes, but it's not a matter of just numbers, boy," came the reply, this voice far deeper, older, and somewhat slower. Also meaner. "It was a given that Donnie would have to go, and that stick-up-his-ass Darfellan as well. But we were all expecting Ricko to be hired on as first mate so we'd have access to the armoury. What do you know about her?"

"I've never shipped out with her 'afore but I hear tell she's been on the wrong side of the black line before. Mayhap she'd be willing to throw her lot in with us if the price is right?" The third voice was quieter and more thoughtful. "I hear she likes a good game of cards. Might be a good chance to talk to her."

"It's too big a risk," came the second voice again, and one of the shadows shook its head. "Soon as she refuses we'd be forced to kill her."

"Well then we'll send her to the bottom."

"Agreed. I'll tell the others. Blow that lantern out, boy."

The tallest of the shadows lifted the lantern, causing the flicker of light to jump and warp, and then it was gone, the three men moving down the cramped hallway the other way.

Just then, foot-steps approached the captain's door from within, and Blaine's own voice could be heard from the other side.

"Ye have a job to do, you know," he said, a reluctant grin in his voice, "Much as I enjoy the company of as lovely a lady as yerself, I can't spend this whole voyage with you in my lap."

"..mmm...your loss, Captain." The sassy, purring tone of a female sounded strangely like it was coming from somewhere near the floor. The doorknob twisted and opened inwards, the newly-oiled hinges barely squeaking.

"Oh, good evening Mr. Crest. Did you knock? I certainly hope you weren't waiting here long." Blaine looked down at the moth-winged fairy, a lop-sided sort of smirk on his face. A sleek gray shape threaded between Blaine's boots and oozed around the door-frame as supple and silent as a scarf in the hands of an exotic belly-dancer. Two emerald green eyes glanced up, framed by a set of ashen stripes and long whiskers. Slightly bigger than the average cat, the female licked her lips, and the owner of the second voice was suddenly revealed. "By your leave, Mr. Crest." And then she was off down the corridor of the gently-swaying ship, her long tail held up high behind her, the tip bent haughtily. After watching her go, Blaine moved to the side and turned back to Dain. "Care to join me for a drink?"

--

Kira's fiddle wouldn't be the only one on deck that evening. The excitement of the first night out on the open sea was always a bit of a celebration in and of itself. But most sailors didn't have anything nearly as fancy as an instrument crafted in Green Fall.

And most of them were lingering on the main deck, while Jharnia seemed to have made a home for herself as close to the bowsprit as possible. She was a pretty girl, barely into adulthood, with dark brown skin and long black hair secured down her back with a set of thin bands of carved coral. Her clothing was made out of something turquoise and gauzy that covered her chest and her legs but kept her midsection bare. Probably not the wisest choice on a ship crewed by salt-hardened seamen.

Kira's heavy bootsteps on the deck behind her caused Jharnia to look around, her brown eyes startled. She had been busy with what appeared to be a turtle-shell bowl full of seawater and shells.

"Oh! Ehm. Gud evening madame Kira," she replied shyly, her own accent was almost as thick as Kira's but vastly different. "Yas, I am Jharnia." Her eyes darted over Kira's intimidating clothing, seeming to pause on the various silver flourishes on the way down to her boots. She stood up and held onto the railing tightly, clearly still unsteady on the rocking deck. She frowned a little uncertainly, guessing that Kira hadn't come to talk to her on a whim but unable to figure out what it was she might need.

"What does the first mate do? Did you need something from me?"

Ebonfort

So anyone interested in a small group/1x1 roleplay?

@SouffleGirl123

Just now saw this. I would love to play with you. What did you have in mind? Feel free to PM or IM me on Skype. It would be nice to get a small group together. :)

[Ebonfort] The Edge of the Map

The Azure Rising drifted away from the docks into the deep water, her blue sails billowing taut in the breeze as the crew rushed around to adjust the rigging to take advantage of the wind. Seagulls screeched overhead, trailing after the ship, bobbing in and out of the fluttering tail of the long black Ebonfort penant. It didn't take long for Azure Strand's waterfront to shrink and fade, though the ship kept close to the coast for a while. Captain Blaine steered the ship himself, calling his orders to Darshane from the helm, the huge darfellan repeating them up and down the deck to the rest of the crew.

During the cast off, most of the passengers hovered along the decks, either watching the landscape fade into obscurity behind them or look out into the infinite expanse of the ocean ahead, their hearts full of adventure. After an hour or so, it was the waving grasslands of the Valley of Screamers sliding by that earned a bit of attention, for crowded along the sandy shore was an entire tribe of Screamers, their customary tents rising up along the dunes.

But those too passed by, and once Blaine laid their course in and turned the helm over to the helmsman, who appeared to be some kind of were-creature, though for now it was impossible to say what species, he was free to walk along the deck and speak with the crew and passangers. Some of the crew were sailors he had worked with before, but most were new faces, and not all the eyes who watched him pass by were friendly.

At last, Blaine came upon Kira Kodera and grinned charmingly as she saluted, giving her a nod as he reached for her hand, "Well blow me down..." he muttered, whistling through his teeth as he was confronted with a whole lot of woman. His squeezed her palm firmly, glad to feel the tough skin on her fingertips. "They told me you were right for the job but I haven't the damndest idea what you just said."

Hooking a thumb through the belt holding his scabbard around his hips, mainly to keep from resting his palm on the hilt of his rapier, Blaine motioned with his other hand for Kira to accompany him as he moved along the railing, his sharp eyes flicking alternately between the buxom woman before him and the rest of the crew.

"You'll be in charge of the defense of this vessel until we're back in Azure Strand. You answer only to me, but I suggest taking advantage of Darshane as the man has been sailing longer than you and I combined. You'll have the only key to the armoury. None of the crew should have any weapons on deck, so if you come across so much as a knife that looks a bit too sharp for carving potatoes I want you to confiscate it. I suspect the passengers likely have their own blades or whatnot stashed in their rooms, but so long as they stay there..." He let that trail off, producing a bronze key from inside his vest and handing it to the swashbuckler in front of him. "It's been a terrible long number of years since anyone sailed out past Sharkfin Island and I don't rightly know what to expect. Fortunately, our good Master Cavendish has seen fit to stock us up. Ye'll see what I mean when you take stock of the Armoury later."

While he was talking, they had squeezed through the open doors down into the lower decks of the galleon, passing the crew's quarters where hammocks swung empty in the poor light. For now, even the lower decks were clean and orderly, but that would change as the days went by. The wooden grate in the floor revealed little except that the cargo hold in the bottom of the ship was very full indeed. They moved then through to the nicer but still cramped passenger cabins. "This one's yers." Lifting an arm casually against the doorjam, the Captain lifted a blonde brow and grinned a little. "The scuttlebutt is you're good with a crossbow and a fiddle. I expect there'll be plenty of time to find out if it's true." There was a hint of suggestion in his eye before he moved on. "Be sure you talk with Jharnia. You'll find her on the bow, most like. She's a mage what hasn't been picked up by the Knights yet."

With that, he left Kira to her duties, humming a sailor's drinking song under his breath as he moved back out into the light.

--

By mid-day, the land behind the ship was lost beyond the horizon, nothing to see in any direction except a calm sea that gradually darkened as the sand beneath them slid down into the depths. It would take another day for the last of the seagulls to turn back, their presence in the sky replaced by the occasional glittering shoals of fish. And as the hours slipped by as if blown by the wind, a radiant sunset lit the deck, striking the blue sails until they looked nearly magical. Part of the crew went to bed, snoozing in their hammocks as the cycle of shifts began. The rest gambled around carefully watched cookstoves on the deck, occasionally breaking out in raucous laughter. Blaine had retired to his cabin, though the brown-skinned black-haired woman known as Jharnia was still lingering on deck, as was Darshane.

Dain Crest in his human-sized cabin would find himself rudely awoken by a shrill loud scream as one of the ship's cats pounced on and rapidly dispatched a rat right outside his room.

[Ebonfort] Days of Grass and Dust

Working through the discomfort of the sword slash on his shoulder was just another part of life on the grassland to Asher. His people didn't have the luxury of laying up to heal. So when Verissa crossed her arms and glared at him, her cross expression was met with a confused lift of Asher's scarred eyebrow as he followed her gaze to his shoulder, uncertain what he'd done to earn her displeasure. He was injured. Of course it would bleed...

When Verissa took his hand in hers, Asher's mouth opened as if he was going to speak, but his expression darkened and he followed the blonde wordlessly into the bare interior of the tent. Not much was left inside, only what they would need before the entire tribe became a caravan moving through the dry winter grass of the plains. He noticed a couple of other tribesmen watching, grinning at the way he was letting himself be manhandled by his slave, but he was not bothered. Perhaps having a woman in his life before kept him from being rankled by such things anymore, and the sooner his friends saw him accepting Verissa, the sooner they would follow suit.

Dark eyes watching, trying only partially succesfully to stifle a grin as Verissa cluck-clucked around at him like a mother hen, Asher sat down and let the healer work on his wound. It was hard to see the laceration without the use of a mirror, which was now packed, so he flexed a little and looked at it out of the corner of his eye, worried that he'd somehow made it worse by working too hard. In the end he watched Verissa's face, his nose scrunched against the aching jabs as her fingers prodded the rent in his skin, comforted by the fact that she didn't seem too distraught by what she saw. How funny that he was already content to trust her...

Asher grinned amusedly as she made him stay put instead of helping with dinner, though he was curious about what she was making and fidgeted. Years of being his own cook were not easy to set aside. Settling down to be her translator helped, naming everything she picked up for her to learn. "The rest wont take long in the morning. The hardest part will be folding the tent. The only heavy piece left is the stove. I usually let the fire die on the night before a move so that it's not hot in the morning." It meant her bedroll would be far more chill tonight than it had been the night before, but there was no doubt in Asher's mind that offering to share his would be met with those frightened eyes.

He wished Wren were still alive. She was so much better at dealing with people than he was. "You're right. It wont be very much fun for me if my arm rots off before we get there."

"Just leave some water aside so I can clean up after we eat," Asher asked, eventually getting up in spite of her pointed looks. There was a metal clanking as he fiddled with the chains attached to the pole in the center of the tent, disconnecting them completely before carrying them out into the darkness, and a second clatter as he threw them into the bottom of the wagon.

When Asher returned, his footsteps were quiet on the leather floor, intending to sneak up on Verissa to see what she was adding to the soup next. The scent of rosemary had filled the tent and he was planning to tell her that it was one of his favourites. But his words failed when he watched the woman plunge her hand into the seething surface of the water.

"Verissa, no!" he shouted, shocked, reaching around her waist with one mighty arm to pull her from the stove, the other darting swiftly for her wrist. Undeniably strong fingers trained for gripping swords closed around her wrist as he brought it up, a strangled noise of dismay working out of his throat as his heart leaped to his throat. "What did you do?!"

Confusion swept over his face as he brought his other hand to her palm, carefully spreading her fingers open to inspect them. Asher had seen burns before, and expected the mixed blotched red with pale blisters already bubbling...to find her skin scaled and painful. His distress at the idea of her being hurt was pure and genuine, not hidden by the dark broody mask he normally wore. But instead of finding her maimed, Verissa's hand was as pale and flawless as before, and she would be able to watch the realization dawn in his steely eyes as they panned slowly from her hand to her face.

"You're a mage."