Hmmm... interesting.
Any rules on counter spells? Anti-magic?
Great post BTW, caught me off guard
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Hmmm... interesting.
Any rules on counter spells? Anti-magic?
Great post BTW, caught me off guard
Any rules on counter spells? Anti-magic?
Great post BTW, caught me off guard
Khaylan flashed a frown at Miranda's icy tone, the look of displeasure gone almost as quickly as it arrived. As defiant as ever, he thought to himself, I offer to double her coin for the day and she acts as though I am the devil himself come to steal her firstborn. I should teach her a lesson...
Khaylan spent a few moments thinking about what tale would serve the best, pretending to be growing bored with the situation. After letting the question hang in the air for a while, he snapped his fingers dramatically, turning one of his best smiles to Miranda. "Ah, I believe I know just the one, since there seems to be an arthurian mood in the air..."
A story about a woman's folly that ruined two men, and destroyed a kingdom...
"I'll have the story of the fair lady Guinevere, and her seduction of the noble knight Lancelot," Khaylan said, then turned to look at one of his companions. "And you sir, perhaps you would care to play the noble knight himself?"
His fellow knight grinned, leaning over and whispering in a voice that almost certainly carried towards Miranda, "While I would enjoy doing more than some acting with that one, I must decline. Let the girl entertain us, if it please my lord."
Khaylan chuckled, continuing to give Miranda a smile that was dead of any warmth. He had to give her credit, she had already seemed to pick up on the game and was playing it well.
Khaylan spent a few moments thinking about what tale would serve the best, pretending to be growing bored with the situation. After letting the question hang in the air for a while, he snapped his fingers dramatically, turning one of his best smiles to Miranda. "Ah, I believe I know just the one, since there seems to be an arthurian mood in the air..."
A story about a woman's folly that ruined two men, and destroyed a kingdom...
"I'll have the story of the fair lady Guinevere, and her seduction of the noble knight Lancelot," Khaylan said, then turned to look at one of his companions. "And you sir, perhaps you would care to play the noble knight himself?"
His fellow knight grinned, leaning over and whispering in a voice that almost certainly carried towards Miranda, "While I would enjoy doing more than some acting with that one, I must decline. Let the girl entertain us, if it please my lord."
Khaylan chuckled, continuing to give Miranda a smile that was dead of any warmth. He had to give her credit, she had already seemed to pick up on the game and was playing it well.
Spiffy map
Alchemistic said
It was fantastic, I love the last line. "Please. Resist if you dare." Like a medieval duke nukem line.Also .. ""No, you look like a dog got drunk and mated with one of the ugliest crabs in existence," I damn near pissed myself. Great post ^ ^ Looking forward to this one so far.
Thank you. I tried.
*takes a bow*
Posted, let me know if I should change anything
Vaerun drifted through the slums on the outskirts of Providence, looking every inch the beggar that he was pretending to be. In the slums, you never made it very far without an "accident" unless you looked like an accident had already befallen you. Fortunately, this wasn't his first visit to the tiny trash pile that so many of Providence's poor called home, and he had chosen his outfit appropriately. His shirt had originally been a natural white color, but a day spent rubbing it in mud and dust had changed that, including purposefully tearing holes in the sleeves in areas where he never bothered to conceal anything useful anyways. The shredded remains of his pants were more akin to shorts, their longest part stopping just below his knees and caked in mud. Vaerun deeply wished he could have worn his boots today, but most beggars lacked even the most basic of sandals, and he was not going to stand out as an exception.
Vaerun ran a dirty hand through his dusty, ebon colored hair, groaning inwardly at how much further he had to travel to reach the agreed upon rendezvous point. He didn't know why, but one of his oldest acquaintances had sent him a message he couldn't ignore, and Vaerun was determined to find out why. And so he continued to walk through the streets, eager to see this meeting over and done with, but at the same time trying not to draw attention to himself.
After another hour of walking, Vaerun finally pushed open the door to the Rich Joke, a tavern located even further on the outskirts of Providence. For some reason, the first owner of what was now one of the roughest taverns in the city thought that so long as he watered down the drinks and paid his workers in that same mead, he would make a handy profit from even the poor here in the slums. That owner was long gone now, his body buried somewhere in the basement after a card game gone wrong. The current proprieter was a bald, sickly looking man who smelled of things Vaerun tried his hardest not to contemplate as he approached him.
"I'm here for a meeting," Vaerun said.
"What do I look like, a skin merchant?," the man grunted back in reply, pretending to clean a filthy looking tankard.
"No, you look like a dog got drunk and mated with one of the ugliest crabs in existence," Vaerun retorted, slapping a gold coin down on the table. "I'm looking for Geoffrey."
" Well you should have just said so," the man replied, taking the coin and biting it to test its authenticity. Seemingly satisfied, he answered "Room eight. Upstairs."
With that finished, Vaerun turned and walked up the slowly rotting wooden planks that had been nailed together in a crude imitation of stairs. Continuing until he found the appropriate room, Vaerun checked once more to make sure the knife he had pressed against his side was still safely in place and concealed before knocking once and entering.
There across the room, was an old man clad in thick traveler clothing sitting behind an oaken desk covered in parchment. Leaning back in the chair, Geoffrey did not even acknowledge Vaerun's existence, leaving him to break the silence himself.
"What do you want Geoffrey?," Vaerun said, leaning against the wallnext to the door. When still he received no answer, Vaerun began to grow impatient.
"Do I look like I have time for your games old man,," Vaerun growled, and was answered once more by silence.
What was going on here, he wondered, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He pushed off the wall, approaching Geoffrey cautiously, his instincts screaming at him from some unknown danger. As he approach, he noticed that not only was Geoffrey silent, the man wasn't even breathing.
Vaerun ran, pulling open the door in time for the first city guardsman to come barreling through. They slammed into each other, and instincts honed by years on the streets sprang into action. As the guardsman raised his cudgel, Vaerun jammed his fingers into the gap between the man's helmet and breastplate, smashing the man's Adam's apple. As the other man gasped, Vaerun rolled away from him, starting to sprint towards the door but drawing up short as the rest of the guard's patrol entered the room.
Vaerun began to step backwards as he came face to face with half a dozen guardsmen. One, a cleaner looking fellow with a long mustache and gold filigree on his helmet smirked and cast a glance at his fallen companion. "I suppose we'll add attempted murder of a guardsman to the charges then. Citizen Vaerun of Providence, you are under arrest for murder, assault, treason of he highest order, and conspiracy t assassinate highly placed members of this city's lawfully elected council. Please, resist if you dare."
Vaerun ran a dirty hand through his dusty, ebon colored hair, groaning inwardly at how much further he had to travel to reach the agreed upon rendezvous point. He didn't know why, but one of his oldest acquaintances had sent him a message he couldn't ignore, and Vaerun was determined to find out why. And so he continued to walk through the streets, eager to see this meeting over and done with, but at the same time trying not to draw attention to himself.
After another hour of walking, Vaerun finally pushed open the door to the Rich Joke, a tavern located even further on the outskirts of Providence. For some reason, the first owner of what was now one of the roughest taverns in the city thought that so long as he watered down the drinks and paid his workers in that same mead, he would make a handy profit from even the poor here in the slums. That owner was long gone now, his body buried somewhere in the basement after a card game gone wrong. The current proprieter was a bald, sickly looking man who smelled of things Vaerun tried his hardest not to contemplate as he approached him.
"I'm here for a meeting," Vaerun said.
"What do I look like, a skin merchant?," the man grunted back in reply, pretending to clean a filthy looking tankard.
"No, you look like a dog got drunk and mated with one of the ugliest crabs in existence," Vaerun retorted, slapping a gold coin down on the table. "I'm looking for Geoffrey."
" Well you should have just said so," the man replied, taking the coin and biting it to test its authenticity. Seemingly satisfied, he answered "Room eight. Upstairs."
With that finished, Vaerun turned and walked up the slowly rotting wooden planks that had been nailed together in a crude imitation of stairs. Continuing until he found the appropriate room, Vaerun checked once more to make sure the knife he had pressed against his side was still safely in place and concealed before knocking once and entering.
There across the room, was an old man clad in thick traveler clothing sitting behind an oaken desk covered in parchment. Leaning back in the chair, Geoffrey did not even acknowledge Vaerun's existence, leaving him to break the silence himself.
"What do you want Geoffrey?," Vaerun said, leaning against the wallnext to the door. When still he received no answer, Vaerun began to grow impatient.
"Do I look like I have time for your games old man,," Vaerun growled, and was answered once more by silence.
What was going on here, he wondered, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He pushed off the wall, approaching Geoffrey cautiously, his instincts screaming at him from some unknown danger. As he approach, he noticed that not only was Geoffrey silent, the man wasn't even breathing.
Vaerun ran, pulling open the door in time for the first city guardsman to come barreling through. They slammed into each other, and instincts honed by years on the streets sprang into action. As the guardsman raised his cudgel, Vaerun jammed his fingers into the gap between the man's helmet and breastplate, smashing the man's Adam's apple. As the other man gasped, Vaerun rolled away from him, starting to sprint towards the door but drawing up short as the rest of the guard's patrol entered the room.
Vaerun began to step backwards as he came face to face with half a dozen guardsmen. One, a cleaner looking fellow with a long mustache and gold filigree on his helmet smirked and cast a glance at his fallen companion. "I suppose we'll add attempted murder of a guardsman to the charges then. Citizen Vaerun of Providence, you are under arrest for murder, assault, treason of he highest order, and conspiracy t assassinate highly placed members of this city's lawfully elected council. Please, resist if you dare."
Sounds like a plan.
Khaylan Somisteel walked down the villages pathways, followed at a distance by a small entourage comprised of starry eyed peasant children and a pair of his fellow knights. Standing taller than both of his "brothers", and clad in a somewhat ostentatious set of clothing, it was Khaylan who had drawn most of the attention of the tag alongs. His black vest was embroidered with silver and leff open enough to expose a deep purple undershirt and was sinched together by a thick leather belt over a pair of loose fitting black pants that tucked neatly into a pair of high leather boots. He wore a single steel ring on his left hand, emblazoned with the seal of his house. All in all, he was the picture of wealth to the villagers who caught a glimpse of him, a dangerous prospect, were it not for the broadsword that hung comfortably on his hip.
The knights were both from houses that ranked lower than Khaylan's own, and were feigning friendship in order to curry favor towards their own respective houses. What he found most amusing was that both of the men beside him wouldn't hesitate to stab him in the back if they thought it would bring them power. Fortunately, like most nobility, this was a game he had been playing most of his life, and he'd had far better teachers than these two ever had. Still, although part of Khaylan berated himself for being so shallow, he was unable to lie to himself:
He loved the attention.
The trio approached the village square in time to catch the tail end of the performance. In truth, this had been his objective all along. Another peasant, hoping to earn a few gold coins had informed him of a delightful songstress who sang in the village square along with a small band of instrument players. Ordinarily he would have scolded the man for wasting his time, but the peasant had also mentioned that the songstress had long hair that was a very attractive color of strawberry blond. Instead, Khaylan paid the man a single gold coin and had arranged to investigate this rumor to see if it matched up with a girl he had encountered in the past. Now that he had seen her with his own eyes, the knight grinned in anticipation. When the crowd had dissipated, Khaylan clapped his hands together slowly and loudly, his two "friends" misunderstanding the sarcastic tone of the gesture and adding nervous claps of their own.
"A sad sum, my dear, and after such a wonderful performance," Khaylan said, directing his words at the singer. "What did you pull in I wonder? Wait, don't tell me. I'll double it if you and your friends here would play me a little song..."
The knights were both from houses that ranked lower than Khaylan's own, and were feigning friendship in order to curry favor towards their own respective houses. What he found most amusing was that both of the men beside him wouldn't hesitate to stab him in the back if they thought it would bring them power. Fortunately, like most nobility, this was a game he had been playing most of his life, and he'd had far better teachers than these two ever had. Still, although part of Khaylan berated himself for being so shallow, he was unable to lie to himself:
He loved the attention.
The trio approached the village square in time to catch the tail end of the performance. In truth, this had been his objective all along. Another peasant, hoping to earn a few gold coins had informed him of a delightful songstress who sang in the village square along with a small band of instrument players. Ordinarily he would have scolded the man for wasting his time, but the peasant had also mentioned that the songstress had long hair that was a very attractive color of strawberry blond. Instead, Khaylan paid the man a single gold coin and had arranged to investigate this rumor to see if it matched up with a girl he had encountered in the past. Now that he had seen her with his own eyes, the knight grinned in anticipation. When the crowd had dissipated, Khaylan clapped his hands together slowly and loudly, his two "friends" misunderstanding the sarcastic tone of the gesture and adding nervous claps of their own.
"A sad sum, my dear, and after such a wonderful performance," Khaylan said, directing his words at the singer. "What did you pull in I wonder? Wait, don't tell me. I'll double it if you and your friends here would play me a little song..."
Interested in the small group version. Which is to say if one more person joins in then I'm in. I'll keep an eye out here.
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