Red Wizard

The Shadow over Old Caledon - Open for Applications

@TRES Sure, go ahead!

The Shadow over Old Caledon - Open for Applications

@TRES

The journey to the docks was largely uneventful, save for an incident where an intoxicated working class man had to be forcibly persuaded by the night watch to exit the subway for disturbing public order. The man flatly refused to move, only to be lifted and carried off the cart by the two burly constables. One of them nodded at Adraman, silently apologizing for the commotion, before the train continued south. Before long, Adraman reached his destination and the train continued on its way back north.

The factory in question was only a short walk from station, across the bridge to the western bank. The dark waters of the Kaper glittered with the light from the lamp posts above, burning bright through the night. The sounds of activity and commotion grew louder as he approached the opposite bank. There was another kind of life in that part of the city that never slept, a kind that thrived in the cover of night. People could be seen passing by on the street, or moving in and out of alleys and buildings. The occational constable patrolled the roads and walkways, keeping watch for any signs of trouble.

Adraman drew some attention to him, but nothing more than curious glances. He looked like he belonged elsewhere; certainly not on the western waterfront, but the people here were accustomed to strangers on strange errands and none confronted him. A scantily clad woman called out to him as he passed an establishment, offering nocturnal business, and cursed at him behind his back when he passed her by.

Finally, he arrived at the factory in question. It was a behemoth of a building next to the smaller, older buildings surrounding it. The chimneys, usually spewing black smoke into the sky, lay dormant and silent. There was light spilling into the night from a few windows, indicating a presence, but the place looked mostly deserted. A guard was standing on watch by the gate to the courtyard, eyeing Adraman as he approached. He was dressed in a uniform and carried a pistol in a holster on his belt.

Jared, the guard, was perplexed. He had noticed the man walking down the street a while back and had wondered what an upstanding member of Caledons society could possibly be doing in the western docks at this time of day. He could guess at several less savoury reasons, of course, but his mother had always told him not to judge people all to quickly and decided against his initial speculations. The man in question was a gentleman, no doubt. Was he perhaps lost? The streets and alleys of Old Town could be labyrinthean even to its inhabitants, so it would be of no surprise if an outsider got turned around trying to navigate them. He knew full well what his employer would think about the situation, but Jared was kind at heart and wanted to help. As the man drew near, he raised his hand in greeting.

Good evening, Sir, he called out, Lost, are we? Can I offer my assistance with anything? Directions, perhaps?

Ye Olde Laboratory

The journey to the docks was largely uneventful, save for an incident where an intoxicated working class man had to be forcibly persuaded by the night watch to exit the subway for disturbing public order. The man flatly refused to move, only to be lifted and carried off the cart by the two burly constables. One of them nodded at Adraman, silently apologizing for the commotion, before the train continued south. Before long, Adraman reached his destination and the train continued on its way back north.

The factory in question was only a short walk from station, across the bridge to the western bank. The dark waters of the Kaper glittered with the light from the lamp posts above, burning bright through the night. The sounds of activity and commotion grew louder as he approached the opposite bank. There was another kind of life in that part of the city that never slept, a kind that thrived in the cover of night. People could be seen passing by on the street, or moving in and out of alleys and buildings. The occational constable patrolled the roads and walkways, keeping watch for any signs of trouble.

Adraman drew some attention to him, but nothing more than curious glances. He looked like he belonged elsewhere; certainly not on the western waterfront, but the people here were accustomed to strangers on strange errands and none confronted him. A scantily clad woman called out to him as he passed an establishment, offering nocturnal business, and cursed at him behind his back when he passed her by.

Finally, he arrived at the factory in question. It was a behemoth of a building next to the smaller, older buildings surrounding it. The chimneys, usually spewing black smoke into the sky, lay dormant and silent. There was light spilling into the night from a few windows, indicating a presence, but the place looked mostly deserted. A guard was standing on watch by the gate to the courtyard, eyeing Adraman as he approached. He was dressed in a uniform and carried a pistol in a holster on his belt.

Jared, the guard, was perplexed. He had noticed the man walking down the street a while back and had wondered what an upstanding member of Caledons society could possibly be doing in the western docks at this time of day. He could guess at several less savoury reasons, of course, but his mother had always told him not to judge people all to quickly and decided against his initial speculations. The man in question was a gentleman, no doubt. Was he perhaps lost? The streets and alleys of Old Town could be labyrinthean even to its inhabitants, so it would be of no surprise if an outsider got turned around trying to navigate them. He knew full well what his employer would think about the situation, but Jared was kind at heart and wanted to help. As the man drew near, he raised his hand in greeting.

"Good evening, Sir" he called out, "Lost, are we? Can I offer my assistance with anything? Directions, perhaps?"

The Shadow over Old Caledon - Open for Applications

@Fuzzybootz I can't seem to detect which of the hooks your character is going to investigate in your post. Would you mind elaborating, so I can give you an adequate response?

The Shadow over Old Caledon - Open for Applications

@Fuzzybootz@CollectorOfMyst@TRES

I will try to have the post done sometime today.

In Tenebris - Always Open

@Mole

(OOC: Your Action is technically Use, but no worries. We'll learn together!)

Pushing the handle yielded no success, but as she pulled it, the coffin hissed. Air rushed into the space as a narrow slit opened in the ceiling. The slit continued to open in a smooth motion, leaving her lying in an oval bed of sorts. She found herself in a domed room, dimly lit by a pulsing red light. There were two other coffins, or pods, joining hers at the foot end, still closed. At the head of each stood a locker in the same white material as the pods, and there was a closed circular door to her right with a dormant panel next to it.

What did she do next?

Dwarves!

Alberich

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Name

Alberich son of Gudmund Thorson Orebender and Isolde Tyrasdaughter Rocksplitter, of the Orebender Clan

Age

98

Gender

Male

Appearance

Alberich is of average height for a dwarf, but somewhat heavier than his fellow brothers and sisters. He has blonde hair and beard, often braided and bound to keep it from getting in the way in the smithy. His small, tired eyes are a light shade of brown, peering thoughtfully from under heavy brows. He has pronounced cheekbones and a massive nose, which often acts as his primary emotional tell.

Alberich is heavily muscled, his arms brawny beyond what is normal for his kind, a feature which has gotten some of his brethren speculating that he probably lives up to his family name. He usually dresses in simple, durable clothes of wool and leather, opting to walk barefooted even when working at the forge.

Alberich is never seen without the ornamented silver bracelet on his arm, a wedding band gifted to him by his deceased mate, Holga Ingridsdaughter Oakenshield. He has a slow, deliberate way of walking and talking, never seeming to make or say any unnecessary moves or words.

Skills & Flaws

Alberich is a respected and reknowned blacksmith in the halls of Thrillem, known for his qualitative craft. He can work any kind of ore in the forge, having learned many secrets from the master smiths of the senior Orebenders. He has just recently passed the test of mastery himself, finally earning the right to work his own anvil and take on apprentices himself.

Apart from being good with the hammer and tongs, Alberich likes to cook and has become skilled with the craft, experimenting with whatever herbs and spices he can get his hands on from traders and travellers. He plays the drum, as could be expected from a blacksmith, and sometimes blows the horn, one of which he has forged himself from bronze.

What Alberich lacks, however, is speed. He can be slow and thoughtful to the point of stagnation, always careful and deliberate in his actions. This has a tendancy to drive younger, more eager dwarves to frustration or even anger at times, as Alberichs slowness of action is extraordinary even among his kind. He also suffers from bouts of depression, fueled by the loss of his mate. During such bouts he becomes distant and unresponsive, often secluding himself from others for days at a time.

The greed is constantly there, of course, always surfacing at the worst of times. Alberich has a hard time separating from the more expensive and exquisite things he makes, to the point where he sometimes is unwilling to part with them without further compensation or persuasion.

Background

Alberich was born to Gudmund Thorson Orebender and Isolde Tyrasdaughter Rocksplitter. It was decided that he should follow in his fathers footsteps and learn the blacksmiths trade, and he has spent the most of his life as an apprentice to the master smiths of the Orebenders, learning their craft.

He met his mate, Holga Ingridsdaughter Oakenshield, at a feast in the hall of the Oakenshields. His family had been invited there as thanks for supplying the warriors of the Oakenshields with weapons and armor to beat back a particulary nasty infestation of goblins in the lower tunnels of Thrillem, and the two dwarves quickly fell in love. Their union was quickly negotiated and accepted by both clans as a suitable bond of friendship, and they were wed after only a decade of courting.

Disaster soon struck, however, not twenty years into their marriage. Holga was slain among many brave dwarves in an attempt to plug a breach by marauding goblins in the mines, and Alberich went into mourning. They had been preparing to sire children of their own, but Alberich knew that he now had lost both his companion and the prospects of carrying his bloodline to a new generation.

It took him over a decade to find the strength to once again lift the hammer, but when he did, he regained some semblance of a purpose to his life. Work consumed him, and he was deemed ready to face the masters trial at a staggering tender age of only ninety. He passed to thunderous applause from the collected Orebender, Rocksplitter, and Oakenshield clans, and a feast was held in his honor that has seen few of its likes before or after. Alberich was fondly regarded as the future of the Orebender smiths, and his name was immediately mentioned by the three clans as a candidate for the expedition to the surface.

Ye Olde Laboratory

Alberich

---

---

Name

Alberich son of Gudmund, of the Orebender Clan

Age

98

Gender

Male

Appearance

Alberich is of average height for a dwarf, but somewhat heavier than his fellow brothers and sisters. He has blonde hair and beard, often braided and bound to keep it from getting in the way in the smithy. His small, tired eyes are a light shade of brown, peering thoughtfully from under heavy brows. He has pronounced cheekbones and a massive nose, which often acts as his primary emotional tell.

Alberich is heavily muscled, his arms brawny beyond what is normal for his kind, a feature which has gotten some of his brethren speculating that he probably lives up to his family name. He usually dresses in simple, durable clothes of wool and leather, opting to walk barefooted even when working at the forge.

Alberich is never seen without the ornamented silver bracelet on his arm, a wedding band gifted to him by his deceased mate, Holga Ingridsdaughter Oakenshield. He has a slow, deliberate way of walking and talking, never seeming to make or say any unnecessary moves or words.

Skills & Flaws

Alberich is a respected and reknowned blacksmith in the halls of Thrillem, known for his qualitative craft. He can work any kind of ore in the forge, having learned many secrets from the master smiths of the senior Orebenders. He has just recently passed the test of mastery himself, finally earning the right to work his own anvil and take on apprentices himself.

Apart from being good with the hammer and tongs, Alberich likes to cook and has become skilled with the craft, experimenting with whatever herbs and spices he can get his hands on from traders and travellers. He plays the drum, as could be expected from a blacksmith, and sometimes blows the horn, one of which he has forged himself from bronze.

What Alberich lacks, however, is speed. He can be slow and thoughtful to the point of stagnation, always careful and deliberate in his actions. This has a tendancy to drive younger, more eager dwarves to frustration or even anger at times, as Alberichs slowness of action is extraordinary even among his kind. He also suffers from bouts of depression, fueled by the loss of his mate. During such bouts he becomes distant and unresponsive, often secluding himself from others for days at a time.

The greed is constantly there, of course, always surfacing at the worst of times. Alberich has a hard time separating from the more expensive and exquisite things he makes, to the point where he sometimes is unwilling to part with them without further compensation or persuasion.

Background

Alberich was born to Gudmund Thorson Orebender and Isolde Tyrasdaughter Rocksplitter. It was decided that he should follow in his fathers footsteps and learn the blacksmiths trade, and he has spent the most of his life as an apprentice to the master smiths of the Orebenders, learning their craft.

He met his mate, Holga Ingridsdaughter Oakenshield, at a feast in the hall of the Oakenshields. His family had been invited there as thanks for supplying the warriors of the Oakenshields with weapons and armor to beat back a particulary nasty infestation of goblins in the lower tunnels of Thrillem, and the two dwarves quickly fell in love. Their union was quickly negotiated and accepted by both clans as a suitable bond of friendship, and they were wed after only a decade of courting.

Disaster soon struck, however, not twenty years into their marriage. Holga was slain among many brave dwarves in an attempt to plug a breach by marauding goblins in the mines, and Alberich went into mourning. They had been preparing to sire children of their own, but Alberich knew that he now had lost both his companion and the prospects of carrying his bloodline to a new generation.

It took him over a decade to find the strength to once again lift the hammer, but when he did, he regained some semblance of a purpose to his life. Work consumed him, and he was deemed ready to face the masters trial at a staggering tender age of only ninety. He passed to thunderous applause from the collected Orebender, Rocksplitter, and Oakenshield clans, and a feast was held in his honor that has seen few of its likes before or after. Alberich was fondly regarded as the future of the Orebender smiths, and his name was immediately mentioned by the three clans as a candidate for the expedition to the surface.

Welcome to Vradia

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S i m b e l m y n ë

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Simbel let the curious woman touch her as she examined the token. The other Elvian seemed to study it, too. She was a bit disappointed that none of them could, or perhaps would, tell her more as to what the object was, or what connection it had to her Mother. It dawned on Simbel that maybe they were as ignorant of this strange business as herself, and had come here looking for answers just as she had. The thought was equally comforting as it was frustrating; she had hoped to learn new information by coming here, risking a lot by revealing herself, but it felt good to know she was not alone in her struggle. Her eyes wandered over the assembled individuals, so different and strange to her. What winding paths could have led them here, and where would that path take her, should she choose to tread it? The Elvian, at least, seemed to recognize the symbol of her Patron. That is the symbol of my Master, she said, It is the Old Goat. She searched her face for any signs of recognition.

I do not care for this name, Mousey, she continued, I am Simbelmynë, servant of the Wilder-o'-the-Woods. You may adress me as such. Neither her voice nor face betrayed her feelings, but she was offended at the slur. She held the gaze of the Elvian for a moment before Sir Dorian entered the room and interrupted her. She listened to him intently, and stared at his hand as he held it out to her. Slowly, reluctantly, she extended her hand and placed the token in his. It was her only lead to finding Mother, but perhaps this sacrifice could open new paths for her. It could always be retrieved later, if need be. She did however refuse to sit. Chairs seemed odd and unnatural to her, and the few she had tried had been uncomfortable, too. Simbel could stand on her own two legs.

Dorians revelation startled her somewhat. Her Mother in league with outsiders, with... Mercenaries? Unthinkable! But she could detect no lie in Dorians words. Apparently, she had been expected. It was all a bit much, but Simbel gathered herself. If Mother would aid you in this, she said, Then so shall I. What is this mystery you speak of?

The Shadow over Old Caledon - Open for Applications

@CollectorOfMyst It's a great start! I'll reply to you and @TRES in the next few days. Let's get this show on the road!