Skyswimsky
Sir Lurksalot
High Moon
RisingRobin
Affili
mickilennial
Feyblue
Kronshi
Sky Blue
Majoraa
//O3 - The Pallid Mermaid
Crag made no comment about Elys’s handiwork. Perhaps she had done a standup job, or perhaps this was simply another test that she passed, to prove that she wasn’t just a feral woman that answered with extreme violence every slight that she encountered.
Or maybe he just wanted to see if she could take orders properly.
“Once you leave, go right. Past three blocks, go left on the fourth. Keep going until there’s a well, then to the left again. Path branches off. Go down the smaller one.” A pause. He picked up the bucket. “You’ll know you’re there if you can smell something that isn’t shit or food. Tell ‘em Crag sent ‘cha.”
The bucket disappeared beneath the counter, the mass that was the bartender turned once more.
“They’re the Bladerights. If yer gonna be a cutthroat for loose gold, they’ll be your foes, but if yer in the City because of heroic stories, you’ll do better work than with ‘em delver types.”
@Estylwen
//O3 - Entrance area
“Playing at something?”
The leader of the operations, who had the countenance of a bear after a profitable salmon run, set his eyes upon Theodore. There was something unsettling about the lad, that much the boss could surmise. Too pale, too clean, and yet without the wealth to travel by carriage into the deeper recesses of Oratorio. Flocked by five others, all of whom didn’t appear impoverished. And there was the smell of lingering rust, the tang of blood, regardless.
“If you want in, then that’s that. I ain’t your tour guide, pretty boy. And down in the Abyss, you’re takin’ orders from me, understood?” Five minutes hadn’t elapsed, but the pickings were poor. “Send your lackeys off wherever and grab yourself a sack. We’re leaving.”
Following the leader’s gesticulations, Theodore would see that in the back now, there were sacks being handed out. Coarse sacks that were empty but for a heel of bread and a block of hard cheese. Water, it seemed, was the concern of others. Tools, it appeared, were non-existent, but perhaps that’d be handed out closer to the Abyss.
The group departed soon after. The Ichor-Blessed would have a scant few moments to give his orders, whatever they may be, before he would be left behind and sackless.
@Silverpaw
//O4 - Main Streets
Sunken-Cheeks nodded ferociously at Sebi’s responses, feeling validated and appreciated for perhaps the first time since his wife divorced him eight years ago. Camille was a right scoundrel! And he was far too dainty for the task of protecting the Royal Road from those Outer Layer ruffians! Perhaps, if Sebi pushed it, while his partner was still on their piss break, she had a chance indeed of convincing the man to overlook their nameless and wealthless situation and let them into the Royal Road!
Sumiye sent her mother down another, more complex, train of thought, however, and that path was severed forever. Instead, it became a matter of bathhouses.
“Ah, Sunchy,” the guard spoke, performing a guard’s salute in a somewhat pathetic attempt to appear manlier than the armoured scarecrow that he was. “I’m not much for bathhouses myself, but for fairer folks such as yourself and your daughter, the Adventurer’s District should have a place to wash off in any of the larger inns there.”
Sunchy turned his eyes up to the sky, squinting as he stared at the sun.
“Aye, and the usual types that visit more public establishments don’t do so around these times, if you’ve coin enough to afford warm water.” Clearly, he was one of those usual types, even if he didn’t state it, as he gave Sebi directions to one such public establishment: The Onyx Sardine.
Undoubtedly a euphemism for a penis, but well, no one would pay for just a bath, after all.
@Asuras
//A11 - The Shire's Lock
The Adventurer’s District called, and the Underpass that the Ichor-Blessed and their Paladin strode through offered nothing that would give either of them pause. The suffering of mortals was transient in comparison to the eternal flame of the stars, and neither Almagest nor Frederika had the means to offer alms regardless. It was cruel, perhaps, but if they stopped for one, they would undoubtedly be stopped by many others, each beggar equally deserving of charity, until it would be only through violence that the pair would be able to advance once more.
Better to ignore it, like every other passenger through the Underpass.
And once one was indeed past those dark tunnels, the first sight of the Adventurer’s District was certainly impactful enough to make one forget about all those unhoused, jobless fellows from just moments before. While the Outer Layer had been cramped and desolate, the Adventurer’s District, even during the day, was cramped and festive! Brightly colored stalls marked every which direction, and bands of valiant warriors were posed up everywhere, haggling over the price of supplies, plotting out future expeditions, or simply enjoying any of the distractions that the district offered. Thieves were present too, of course, but the sheer number of able-bodied and well-armed individuals meant that a softer touch was necessary, pickpockets and cutpurses slipping through crowded avenues, rather than thugs threatening the balls of fair-faced youths.
Of course, that didn’t mean violence was completely absent. Especially not when a particular tavern nearby, The Shire’s Lock, possessed an outsized crowd for this time of day, the sounds of flesh striking flesh and the cheers or groans of the crowd rocking out from large, creaking establishment. If the two entered, they’d no doubt find themselves at the very edges of a crowd that encircled two similarly half-naked fighters. Why were they fighting? Who knows! It sure looked passionate though, colorful bruises blooming like flowers over their body as sweat shone in the firelight.
And there were bets being made, and thus, money to be made…not that Almagest had any to spare. Frederika didn’t have any either, but perhaps throwing hands would earn her some?
@Izurich
//O11 - Alleyways
It was a chase between a group of longlegs who, rather predictably, had the stride length advantage, versus a halfling with the advantage of the home field. Talia’s booty slap, being just a slap on the butt, hadn’t affected the ringleader’s speed all that much, but she nonetheless was faster in a flatout sprint than he, especially as his own lackeys peeled off, splitting down other avenues.
There had been no time in which the bag of coins could be exchanged though. It was simply too heavy of an object to be easily legedermained away while running away, and Talia herself kept her own men close by: dying to a halfing with a knife would’ve been a pathetic way to go out…but being unable to chase down a halfling would be equally pathetic.
Even if that halfling was utilizing every trick in the book to lose her.
Garbage was tossed in her path. Narrow streets were traversed. In one instance, her quarry even dove beneath a wagon, prompting her and her men to run around the other side, only for the halfling himself to simply roll out the same way he rolled in…which he proceeded to do two more times, until one of Talia’s thugs finally got the idea to crawl beneath the wagon after him, in which case the unfortunate follower received a kick in the face as the halfling scrambled off again. He was no acrobatic master, no aerial artist, but wow, was he annoying!
Their chase culminated down an alleyway, a deadend that revealed itself to possess a single hole in the wall that lead to the other side. The halfling sprang forth, shooting through the hole in the wall with ease. Talia’s men faltered, their broad shoulders making it a fool’s gambit to try to fit through. Who knew what would happen to them if they were stuck halfway?
Talia herself though? She was the Queen of Thieves. If there was a bag of gold on the other side, she would plunge in without hesitation, for who could claim plunder, if not one who had a stout heart? Her shoulders were less broad than her men, and her breasts were made of the same substance that cats were. A hole fit for a halfling was a hole fit for her too!
Arms through! Head through! Shoulders through! Chest through! Hips…through!
It was strange, the slipperiness of it. As if someone had greased it so it was easier to slide through. But she was already most of the way through, so her legs were through too, Talia landing with a front roll before springing to her feet.
“Now!”
And then, the hole was plugged by a block of wood, carved specifically for such purposes. The Big Nan, sweaty from his running, leaned against the now-sealed wall, while Talia’s own men, stuck on the other side, were helpless to deal with what came next.
The halfling, accompanied by Tall-And-Skinny, sneered. It was a masterful plan, wasn’t it? Delaying for time, so that his allies could reconvene upon this meeting point, where the hunter becomes the hunted! That was why he was their leader! He was cruel! Intelligent! The sociopathic brains behind the operations!
“Well now,” he said, lower jaw jutting down in disdain. “I still owe you for the mark you left upon my buttocks. But ‘fore I do, what kinda thief even are you? Trynna shield the rich from the reprisals of the poor?”
@OwO
//A12 - Marketplace
The Outer Layer was too dangerous to continue milling about alone, and the Underpass was much the same. Voi, in order to protect what remained of his assets, had practically ran through the Underpass, avoiding any and all contact with its derelict denizens before he broke free into the feverish hubbub of the Adventurer’s District. This, indeed, had to be where Oratorio truly was. The number of living, vibrant souls present was dizzying compared to life on the road, and so too were the great sums of coin being exchanged.
Following the concentration of people and market stalls, the white-haired Ichor-Blessed soon found himself in one of many marketplaces, where adventurers and merchants traded in all sorts of goods. There were weapons, of course, hauled off fresh from the forges of distant smitheries, but there were potion brewers too, tossing ingredients into their cauldrons as they shouted out the ‘daily special’ to anyone who was interested in purchasing. Porters squeezed through, their packs bulging with the supplies necessary for long-term missions, while squads of squalid Outer Layer residents tried to sell what materials they could to merchants who clearly knew who held the advantage in the dealings.
Predation was common, and the sharks could smell the blood, whether it be great warriors too drunk to understand the value of what they were trying to trade, or bloodied survivors, who were just trying to make enough money that they could pay for a trip out of Oratorio.
But the wares here had the promise of being functional, at least. Perhaps they would be expensive, but regardless of their quality, they were reliable and tested. Merchants whose wares did not perform as they ought to, after all, found out quickly what it meant to live in a city with no universally accepted and enforced system of law.
@Theyra
