GreivousKhan — Roleplayer Guild

Nerd gods, eh.

So I'm guessing that will be a fairly new religion then? I had it in mind that my nation would be fairly old and thus was united under said religion. I'd have to ask the GM how long steam technology would have been around for. Still aside from the age thing that belief system might still work for what I have in mind. Just depends how old it is. @ClocktowerEchos

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I planned on asking someone about it, but I'd say that a whole NotCatholic and NotOrthodox dynamic. And if you'd all like, we could maybe throw in some NotProtestants and forge a complete NotChristianity.@RWDS

A NotOrthodox/NotCatholic would work for me. I assume we would be going with a Yahweh like deity?

Birth Pangs

 Hospice Isles

The alley stank of piss, shit, and the gods knew what else. Of course, the slums of the Hospice isles never smelled pleasing to any decent man's senses. Only now the usual stink was accompanied by the distinct coppery iron smell of blood. Though it was the sight before watch Captain Karrnthal that nauseated him the most. He fished his worn handkerchief from his back pocket and covered his mouth in a vain attempt to guard against the smell and the rolling in his stomach. He shook his head as he observed the scene before him. 

“Almost nineteen years in this shit show and I’ve never seen anything like dis,” Karrnthal said in disbelief.

The robed man standing beside the watchmen leaned on his cane and sighed. Opposite the pair was the corpse of a local alchemist who had plied his trade in trying to help the community in the district. Those normally too poor to afford the apothecaries from the higher end districts. Deaths in Ravencroft were nothing new of course, but this was very different. The alchemist’s body was leaned up against the dead end wall of the alleyway, body lifeless, hands unmoving, and his head slumped forward. Or at least what was left of his head. The man in question- Cyrno Daz-Si- had his entire upper skull starting from just above his eyes missing. Along with the brain, that should have been inside his cranium. Behind the slumped body the wall was splattered in blood and above the body itself was a message painted in red. No words- simply a date. 

Karrnthal scratched his chin and said, “And what ya make of that?” Gesturing toward the bloody message.

The robed man said nothing for some time before stating simply, “That I don’t know. But you did well in calling upon me. I have little doubt this is the work of the man we seek. I don't need to tell you the importance of finding him.”

“We already have patrols in place watching the docks- even inner island to island travel- just who is this guy?”

The robed man ran a hand through his beard before saying cryptically, “A mistake. One I must rectify without delay. You need not know anything beyond that. You shall have the aid of the Circle, that much I may promise. Just know that he is... dangerous.“

Captain Karrnthal scoffed, “Clearly. I hear the seven are now only six.”

“That is none of your concern Captain,” a hard edge to the robed man's tone.  

“Of course, my apologies Lore Master Rusiz, However, anything you can share about this.. suspect. Could be of value.”

“You already know the man in question is a powerful sorcerer. You and your men would be wise to prepare accordingly.” Rusiz turned from the body and began walking toward the alleys exit where several other members of the watch waited. “You must make finding him your top priority. We cannot afford to have him reach the mainland. Under any circumstances.” 

Captain Karrnthal walked up beside Rusiz as he placed his handkerchief back under his sash and said, “Of course, we’ll find him you can be assured of that. Can you at least give me a name for this man? It could make finding him easier if we use clairvoyance magic.” 

Master Rusiz shook his head, “Fool. If it was that simple the circle would have found him long ago. He was raised as a slave. He has no name. Simply a number. 21.” 

Ravencroft: Port of Deceit

Harbor of Captain’s Isle (aka the Main island) 

Captain Junal gripped the rails and tried to peer through the fog by force of will. He hated trying to make port here when the mist was heavy; there were too many perils and his pilot was green. At last, the haze broke. Silhouettes of buildings rose ahead, perched atop myriad islands connected by heavy bridges. Smoke stacks reached into the air alongside wide towers. It was an unholy mess of a city, and he’d rarely been happier to see it.

Off the starboard bow, Ravencroft sprawled across the inlet of the Dragon Tongue Gulf like a spider's web. He heard a shout erupt from the rowdy crew, and someone broke into an off-key song. Fresh from spoils at sea and having looted and sunk a Sanren vessel just four days before, the crew was in a real mood. They were barely containable, and Junal was eager to let them loose before there was more fighting.

Maintaining order was never easy after fresh spoils. It was no surprise the men were eyeing one another with greedy eyes thinking how they could increase their shares. All it would take was an accident in the dead of the night and a little splash in the waves for one fewer sailor to wake in the morning. He’d already had to lock up three of the worst of them after drunken brawling, and the mood on board had taken a bad turn.        

It was time to let them hit the dockside taverns of Ravencroft and run amuck among the bawdy houses and gambling dens. They would spend most of their money and have nothing left to show for it- such was life a privateer. The smarter few would squirrel away against misfortune the next trip out. Either way, Captain Junal did not care; sailors came and went, and he knew fewer would return to his ship at the end of their stay than had left. Only a few had what it took to stay on and earn their keep to become trusted and valued.    

The captain looked to his first mate, a grizzled man with one chewed off ear and a crooked tooth. That man nodded at his captain with a grin, thinking similar thoughts. There was nowhere else like Ravencroft. While he did not intend to waste all his money, the captain felt his own need to let off steam as well as find Lattimore and see if there were any other juicy targets for a privateer such as himself. The city held both death and fortune in its streets and was ready to shower them on its inhabitants one after another. Ravencroft might be many things, but dull was never one of them.

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