Of Mages and Kings : A Twokinds RP (Started/Closed)

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RBMidknight

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Nov 27, 2009
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A Twokinds RPGMed by [user]Baldrek[/user] and [user]RBMidknight[/user]

1. Respect the GMs.
2. No godmoding.
3. User proper grammar in your post and always use third-person past tense.
4. OOC chat should be in spoilers [ spoiler=OOC ] or taken to the User Group.
5. No NSFW content in your posts. Take that to PMs or //fade out// if you must.
6. If you submit a sheet you are committing to be a part of this RP. That means you should be posting regularly. If you have to be absent for a period of time, try to let one of the GMs know beforehand.

Additional Formatting Rules
• Italics should be used for thoughts
• If you quote someone else's character it's recommended that you bold their words.
• Despite how appropriate you may think your 'daffodil yellow' text is, please stick to the standard black.
• If your character is speaking Basitin, enclose the words in curly brackets. Example: "{Something Basitin goes here}"
• If your character is speaking Keidran, enclose the words in brackets. Example: "[Something Keidran goes here]"

Introduction

It has been long since the events of the rebellion, the event that would change the face of the continent of Mekkan from being dominated by the Vast Human Empire and instead divide the land into a number of sovereign nations as it still exists to this day and age. The rebellion started out along the Human-Keidran borders as a simple understanding between the races that lived there, developing into a ceasefire and peace over time. However, this conflicted greatly with the policy of human superiority that the imperial rulers had attempted to ingrain into the heart of the nation. Seeing this as something that might evolve into slave uprisings and questioning of their practices, they retaliated with force, intending to spark war near the borders once more. Their plan backfired however, when the local populace both Human and Keidran alike decided that enough was enough, they had fought each other for far too long already. Eventually aided by the militaristic Basitin as well, they managed to fight back the Imperial forces who retreated to the Human Capital. The Azure Badlands, located in the path of the advancing Human-Keidran armies, feared the destruction that might be wrecked in their lands. As a result they declared themselves neutral in the conflict and renounced the imperial crown and banner, becoming what is today known as the 'Border Nations'. A big portion of their territory ceding from their rule, and with their armies battered and broken, the Empire petitioned for peace and a treaty was fashioned at the neutral ground of Lyn'Knoll. The treaty stated that the Templar order, a powerful order of magi under imperial command, would face immediate disbanding and the imperial military was to be reduced to one fourth of their current strength. In addition to this, all secessionist territory would be allowed to govern themselves, and that the territory of the Keidran and Basitin would remain theirs. Peace once again restored on Mekkan, a few years passed before various Keidran clans and ex-imperial territories formed the current republics. In the North there was the Arctic Republic, in the south the Republic of Felimarlch, and to the west there was the Republic of the Free lands where the rebellion had its origins.

The years have passed since that time, no one who still lives can say that they fought during those events. The races have grown closer in the republics, living side by side as equal individuals, free from slavery, but perhaps not entirely free from racial tension. In the border nations it is still like it has always been, numerous nations with each their own laws and views, seemingly differing every few miles, if not more often. In the Human Kingdom not much has changed, the human race is still regarded as superior, the other two kept in shackles by law and prejudice, forced to wear slave collars and being treated as the property of their betters, but even here some stand up for them, and the 'Resistance' has been busy freeing slaves as long as there have been slaves to free. And the Basitin Isles? Well, Basitin being Basitin, they are still fighting with each other, and enjoying every minute of it.

This RP is based on the world set up by the webcomic TwoKinds. You are not required to have to have previous knowledge of TwoKinds to join, but it's recommended that you take a look [http://twokinds.keenspot.com/] at it.

Character Template
[small](Note: The characters will be starting in the Port city of Median in the Republic of the Free lands, which is not too far from the Border nations.)[/small]

Name: (Guess what goes here.)
Race: (Human, Keidran or Basitin.)
Subspecies: (Only applicable if you're a Keidran or a Basitin. See the extra notes on different species under Keidran and Basitin.)
Age: (Self explanatory.)
Profession: (What your character does, or did prior to the RP. Anyone who wants to play as a mage, or magic user has to PM both GMs.)
Physical description: (How your character looks. Height, weight, skin/fur colouration, hair colour, eye colour, build, etc. Clothes and stuff like that also goes here.)
Weapons: (If your character begins play with any weapons you write it down here, but keep in mind that your character isn't a walking arsenal.)
Other notable equipment: (Any other equipment that is not weapons and has story significance. Like 'Medical supplies', or 'lockpicks' or whatever.)
Backstory: (Your characters past, what made your character the person s/he is today?)
Additional notes: (Optional notes about your character that don't really fit any of the aforementioned points.)

Differences in Species

Human
Humans are your standard primate-based, bipedal, sentient animals. Due to their high intelligence and natural curiosity they used to be technologically superior to the two ther races. But the technological gap has closed between the races since the rebellion, although even today most specialists still tend to be human due to their longer lifespan.

Humans live to be as old as 80 years+ provided they receive medical treatment, human opinions about the other races differs greatly, but some still see themselves as superior to the other two races, or at least less animalistic. Humans can be taught how to work magic and are perhaps the best at it due to their ability to draw mana straight out of their surroundings.

Keidran
Keidran are canine- and feline-based, bipedal, sentient animals. They come in a variety of shapes and sizes, which include: Tigers, Large Cats, Dogs, Wolves, and Foxes. They are a short-lived but intense race; guided by powerful base instincts. They are highly territorial and usually short-tempered. However, they are relatively easy to subdue and dominate individually, and thus make ideal slaves for Humans. This has been a point of contention for centuries between the two races.

Keidran can live to be 20-25 years old and reach adulthood at around 8 years, their society is usually a free spirited one, and most have trouble with long relationships due to both their short lifespans and their sometimes instinctual behaviour. Most Keidran have attributes associated with the animal, such as a very keen sense of smell for Dog and Wolf Keidran. Like humans, Keidran can be taught how to utilize magic, but they have to draw the power from a prepared source of mana, usually in the form of a crystal.

Subspecies: Cat , Dog, Fox, Tiger, Arctic Wolf, Forest Wolf, Mixed heritage (Ancestors from two or more subspecies), Other (PM the GMs if you would like to play as any other subspecies)

Additional Notes: Keidrans are Carnivores, they get sick from eating bread, their diet is more or less meat filled. Keidrans also do not take well to Human alcohol, there are specific types of alcoholic drink aimed at Keidrans.

The Festival of Beasts, a form of thanksgiving which is celebrated around every winter to symbolize Keidran and Human co-operation. (Most common close to the Forest Wolves.)

Basitin
Basitins are a little-known race of bipedal, long-eared, brown-furred, sentient animals. Unlike the other two races, the Basitins live off the mainland on a distant island-continent. Due to their isolation, they are often forgotten by the other two races and left to their own devices. They are a warrior race, with a society solely consisting of soldiers. They behave in a hive-like manner, following orders of superiors without question. They are usually even-tempered and disciplined.
The Western Basitin are more free spirited again, but their society is still centered around warfare due to their long conflict with their Eastern neighbours, one which is still ongoing.
Mainlander Basitin are the descendants of exiles and immigrants from the isles, they are still very much like their islander kin, but have adjusted to life in the mixed cities with less oppressive laws.

All Basitin can live to be around 60 years old, they are bound by numerous social taboos (like having to cover their feet, the base of their tail, and between their legs at all times, and with bodily contact usually being perceived as inappropriate, this is generally referred to as the 'Modesty laws') and they are incapable of using magic under normal circumstances, their minds degenerating quickly if they gain access to mana. However, Basitin are incredibly tough and highly resistant to disease, sickness, and poison. They also have a heightened sense of hearing.

Subspecies: Eastern Basitin, Western Basitin, Mainlander Basitin

Humans
Humans utilize magic by drawing out the mana in their surroundings and giving it shape and purpose, more experienced mages can draw and use more mana at once, leading to more powerful magic. However, at most times even an experienced mage will be reluctant to use his full potential, for if ones surroundings are drained too quickly it will leave them powerless, their knowledge of magic suddenly useless. Though perhaps useless isn't the right word, for there is more power to be had in a patch of ground even with all its mana drained. 'Black mana' as it is called, is the life force drawn out of the ground itself, it is a very powerful matter to weave magic from, but it has been known to affect the users sanity greatly, leading to delusions, nightmares, violent outbursts, and other unpleasant effects. As such 'Black mana' is outlawed in most nations for its damaging effects, and mages taught how to avoid it.

Keidran
Keidran can use magic from prepared mana crystals, or stones. These are prepared beforehand and can be used only once before having to be prepared anew, how powerful a magic users spell becomes is dependent on the amount of mana in the crystal, and ones skill in utilizing the mana reserve. More experienced Keidran are known to be able to fit more mana inside a single crystal, leading to more powerful spells, but seeing as it has to be released all at once most settle on a moderate amount. Keidran can also use 'Black mana', which is referred to as the forbidden magic among Keidran mages, by trapping it in crystals as with normal mana, the crystals then glow red instead of the usual blue, and using them results in highly increased power, but at the expense of ones sanity.
One thing that is unique about the Keidran magic users is their apparent affinity with specific types of magic depending on bloodline, and sometimes clan, with pure blooded Keidran of one clan often excelling in a particular magic type, much more so than any mixed heritage Keidran. For example, a pure blooded mage of the Arctic Wolf clan could have a much stronger affinity towards ice or cold oriented magic due to his heritage.

Basitin
Basitin cannot use magic, their bodies are simply not suited for it and they are incapable of utilizing mana from the conventional sources available to Humans and Keidran. However, a Basitin can be granted access to mana through the old templar towers or similar structures, but doing so will cause their minds to deteriorate quickly, leaving them close to mindless and nearly incapable of independent action. It is unknown what effect 'Black mana' would have on Basitins, but it is theorized that it would simply speed up their mental erosion.

The Setting
The Arctic Republic
The lands north of the Forest of Wolves and West of the Northern Plains, the Arctic Republic is a democracy encompassing the old Arctic Wolves territories and parts of the old Human Empire, leading to a mixed population and a mixed elected ruling class. Still the republic has much inhospitable land that is difficult to settle, and which is still only inhabited by isolated Arctic Wolf settlements who follow their old clan democracies and who have mixed feelings about the republic and the settlers being encouraged to move further north and west. Slavery is illegal in the Arctic republic, though it is sometimes difficult to uphold out on the frontier.

Republic of the Free Lands
The former territories of the Forest Wolves combined with the Fox and Dog clans and a small area of former human territory, the Free lands stretch west of the mountains formerly known as the 'Great Human-Keidran Barrier' but also incorporate a few coastal cities just east of the mountain range. Due to the diverse territories that banded together to form the republic there is an understandably mixed racial makeup of the nation, with every race being well represented in most cities, even Basitin. The old nobility left over from the Forest Wolf monarchy still dabble in politics from time to time, but do not carry the weight they once did, and the nation is now ruled by a council of elected officials from every race. Slavery is considered illegal and every slave entering the republic is a free man/woman.

Republic of Felimarlch
Felimarlch is a word constructed from both the human and Keidran tongue, it's meaning initially being something like 'The feline woods' or 'The Forest of the Felines'. The republic governs the area south of the Parapet mountains and borders directly to the remains of the Human Kingdom to the north, and the Basitin Isles to the south-west. The nations racial makeup is varied, with emphasis on feline Keidran, but only Arctic wolves seem to be less represented among the populace. The republic also governs the neutral meeting ground of Lyn'Knoll, also known as Orchard Valley, where officials and ambassadors of all the nations meet to discuss matters of international importance. Slavery is illegal, sometimes to their northern neighbors great annoyance when they are refused the return of their 'property'.

The Basidian Isles
The Isles are strictly speaking two nations, each a monarchy lead by a king (The title is bestowed regardless of the kings gender) and with great majorities of Eastern and Western Basitin, as the other races often have trouble with the strict laws of Basitin society. The nations are also continually at war with one another, their armies constantly clashing at the border to duke it out in a never ending war that both sides seem to enjoy greatly, even to the point where they have yet to actually occupy any of the other nations holdings. This is how it has been for centuries. Slavery is considered illegal in the Isles.

The Human Kingdom
The remains of what was once known as 'The Vast Human Empire', they now only hold the territories north of the Republic of Felimarlch, east of the jade river and a portion of the Northern Plains east of the Serpent Tongue, as well as the Soden Island. They are still ruled by a monarchy, with all the nobility that follows, and the nation has its fair share of dispute between noble families. The population is mostly human, with Keidran and Basitin slaves as a minority, only Humans can receive citizenship and it is considered a public service to capture any runaway slaves and 'free' Keidran and Basitin so that they do not become a danger to others and themselves.

The Border Nations
The territory between The Arctic Republic, The Free Lands, and The Human Kingdom consists of numerous independent nations, each with their own laws, names and rulers. Some nations here put Humans and the other species as equal, others elevate humans as superior, some outlaw slavery, other encourage it, and some allow free slaves alongside slavery.
 

RBMidknight

Elite Member
Nov 27, 2009
5,022
0
41
The Players

Name: Katja
Race: Keidran
Subspecies: Mixed-Heritage Forest and Arctic Wolf
Age: 9
Profession: Traveler
Physical description: Katja stands at about 5'6" tall, a pretty average height for a Keidran, and weighs around 130 lbs. Her fur is a light brown, almost sandy in color, with patches of darker brown on top of her muzzle and underneath her eyes, which are a golden yellow color. Her hair is of the same dark brown as the fur under her eyes, and reaches down to her shoulder blades. It is usually kept in a braid for practicality's sake, the end being bound up with either bandages or rope, depending on what she has at hand.

She prefers her clothes practical, usually wearing a pair of dark brown pants, a simple linen shirt, a piece of rope as a belt, and a worn cloak made from gray wool. In addition she prefers to wrap up her feet and the base of her tail with bandages, a very peculiar practice for a Keidran, and this (along with her fur coloration) sometimes make people mistake her for a Basitin.

Weapons: Broadsword, shortbow and arrows.
Other notable equipment: A map yellowed with age, a utility knife, a worn leather satchel, and a wooden figurine depicting a Basitin.

Backstory: Katja has had an unusual life for a Keidran, the first memories that she can recall is of herself traveling with her Basitin foster father, who later also became her mentor.
He told her that he had stumbled across her while he was traveling through the border nations, her family nowhere to be seen. She had been badly emaciated and was carrying tell tale signs of having been on the run for a prolonged amount of time. Due to the child's bad condition and the sometimes hostile reactions of the local populace towards Keidran, he had been fairly certain that whatever had befallen this young child's guardians had likely resulted in them either captured against their will, or worse. If she even had guardians that was, she could also be a runaway slave, but that didn't exactly improve her situation.
Knowing full well that the Duchy they were currently in was rather unkind to Keidran, the Basitin took it upon himself to lead her to the Arctic Republic where she could find herself a new home in an orphanage. To make the trip slightly easier he disguised her as a Basitin. They were also disliked along with Keidran, but most bigots knew better than to pick a fight with a Basitin unless they were certain that they had the odds on their side, so it offered some meager protection.
However, as the journey went on, the Basitin's original idea seemed to fade away, as Katja seemed content to follow him around. This eventually lead to him growing attached to her and start treating her like an adopted daughter.

Katja learned much from traveling with her 'father'. He had taught her how to speak, as well as how to read and write the Basitin and Human languages. Unfortunately he had nearly no knowledge of the Keidran language, and Katja grew up with nearly no exposure to her own race's language as a result. After that he started teaching her how to fend for herself the Basitin way, with superior martial prowess. Her lessons mostly centered around swordsmanship and archery, even though her mentor used a halberd himself. And when she asked about why he wasn't teaching her how to wield that as well, he had replied that the halberd was something better suited for war. That it served nearly no purpose in protecting oneself or other people, what he was teaching her could be used for far nobler purposes than just fighting an opposing army. Katja was still a little unsure if this was entirely the case, but took her mentor's words to heart. After all, who was she to oppose the wisdom of those more experienced?
Other than that she got taught how to use her skills for hunting as the traveled, and of knowledge that could help her find edible plants and berries in the forest, even if she herself couldn't eat them due to her race's carnivorous nature. And though perhaps not her mentors intent, she also picked up a very Basitin way of life. Something that lead her to behave a lot more strict and formal than most Keidran, and perhaps also in part leading to her developing a very stubborn, yet assertive and slightly proud personality.

A few months ago her mentor passed away from old age, as is to be expected of Basitin nearing their sixties. And Katja, knowing no other way of life, continued wandering the land with the sparse equipment and supplies left over from her mentor, eventually finding herself in the port city of Median.

Additional notes: She speaks Human and Basitin fluently, yet she doesn't even know rudimentary Keidran.

Name: Jarrod
Race: Keidran
Subspecies: Forest Wolf
Age: 10
Profession: Dockworker, former slave
Physical description: Jarrod is 5'8" tall and 155 pounds. His life and work has made him strong, he is well muscled but not overly so. He has dark brown fur except at the tip of his ears and his feet where color lightens a bit to more of a tan or beige. He has light brown hair that is cut short. When working he wears a loose fitting light-colored shirt and plain brown or black pants. On his days off Jarrod forgoes the shirt and simply wears a comfortable pair of pants secured by an worn old leather belt he found unclaimed in the dockworkers' common room.
Weapons: Jarrod carries a well-worn axe in a loop on his belt and keeps a small knife strapped to his belt.
Other notable equipment: He has an empty mana stone attached to a leather cord that he wears as a necklace but keeps hidden under his shirt. He also keeps a leather bag with a variety of seeds affixed to his belt.

Backstory:

Early Years

Jarrod was born a third-generation free slave. His paternal grandparents had been freed in their late adulthood by their owners, a kindly old couple who used slaves as workers for their fields but set them free once they reached a certain age. Jarrod's father was a swordsman, and his mother worked as an assistant at the local apothecary. As a child Jarrod was a curious explorer, always trying to see or hear new things. He often spent time climbing the walls of his mother's place of employment. To try and tame her wild offspring, Jarrod's mother attempted to teach him about the different items that were grown for the apothecary supplies. These impromptu lessons did not keep Jarrod occupied for long. He would obediently recite a few plant names to make his mother happy. Then shortly thereafter he would wander outside to find something more interesting to do.

Taken

When he was five years old, during a routine shopping trip with his mother Jarrod wandered away from her. This wasn't an uncommon occurrence. While his mother was busy purchasing some herbs Jarrod ducked between the vendor stalls. Something caught his eye and therefore his attention. A crowd was gathered near the village square. By the sounds, some sort of commotion had broken out. Jarrod was curious. Naturally. So he made his way toward the square. The commotion turned out to be an argument between a group of slavers and the local law enforcement. The loud shouts between the two forces had drawn a crowd of people. The slavers were loudly protesting that they were allowed to be in the village, and should be allowed to sell their 'goods' in peace. The guards countered that the village had declared slavery outlawed some ten years past. Therefore the slavers were not welcome. The crowd began to grow angry and several people began calling for the slavers to leave.

Wanting to get close to the action, Jarrod pushed his way through the crowd. Several villagers protested at the shoving. But they were too caught up in the excitement to pay close attention to the young Keidran. His small body fit between the adults quite easily. One large human male, however, took offense to Jarrod's rush. He shoved the young Keidran away from himself, causing Jarrod to stumble and fall. Dirt from the road coated the boy's clothes as he scrambled to his feet. Young Jarrod froze when he saw the line of slaves, all fitted with collars and iron restraints. Several looked to be his own age. All of the slaves were haggard and their clothes were threadbare as they stood in front of a small wooden cart. Having never seen a slave before, the sight stunned Jarrod.

The slavers were forcibly herded to the front gates by the guards. The slaves, most of whom were chained in a line to the wagon, went along with their owners. The mob of a crowd followed as well. Jarrod fought his way to the font of the crowd again. He wanted to see the slaves. He didn't understand why they were chained. By the time he reached the front of the crowd everyone was outside the village gates. The crowd spent time hurling insults at the slavers. Though the law was clear about not allowing slavery, the residents knew they couldn't just take the slaves. If one of the slavers attacked, however, it was grounds for their property to be handed over. The slavers bore the insults and tossed back some of their own. But neither side attacked the other. When the crowd noise down down the residents turned back to the gates. All but one. Jarrod tried to get closer to the wagon. A slave that looked to be his own age had his hands through the bars that made up the door. The slave, a young Fox Keidran, noticed Jarrod getting closer and reached out to him. The crowd reached the gates and people began filing into the village. Their backs were turned. So no one noticed when Jarrod was grabbed by the nearest slaver. The boy fought immediately, but the slaver put one massive, beefy hand around the young Keidran's muzzle to keep his cries from being heard. A sharp blow to the head stunned Jarrod long enough for him to be shoved into the wagon that contained the rest of the slaves. The Fox Keidran quickly went to the groggy Jarrod in an attempt to help him. The slavers resumed their travel, hastening the horses to put as much distance between themselves and the village as possible. They now had one more item to sell at the next stop. It was a good day, as far as they were concerned.

Consequences

The slavers traveled for days. The slaves continued to be cramped in the small wagon, given little water and scarce scraps of food. On the sixth day Jarrod was released. He was hauled by the neck out into the daylight and thrown onto a patch of cold damp earth. In the middle of an unfamiliar forest the young Keidran was fitted with bands of metal over his wrists and a thick collar of the same material was put around his neck. Money was exchanged between the slavers and a tall human with greying hair. The man had a thick build and a heavy axe fixed to his belt. In a matter of minutes Jarrod was bought and sold. The slavers continued on their journey. But Jarrod was left behind. The large man looked Jarrod up and down, gave a derisive snort, and instructed his assistants to bring the boy with them. "He better be a good worker." the man said. "He cost a lot."

Jarrod was made a lumberjack, a woodcutter. Which meant that he had two jobs. His first job was to cut down designated trees and then to cut the fallen trees into several foot sections. As many trees and sections as he could make from morning until afternoon. After a very short lunch break the second part of his job started. Jarrod was to haul all of the fallen tree sections to a designated pile. "It's a simple job. For simple animals." the company manager proclaimed. Jarrod was not the only woodcutter, but he noticed that other slaves had different jobs. Whenever Jarrod deposited a wooden section into the pile, there was always another slave there ready to take it away to be prepared. For what, Jarrod was never told. He was never told anything that didn't have to do with his job.

In fact, the instructions for his job were dictated to Jarrod as he stood with several other shivering furred bodies. Every one in the group had been recently purchased. After the grey-haired man finished his speech, five Overseers used fist and whip to herd the slaves to their designated areas. It took Jarrod but an instant to bolt away from the burly Overseer and his cracking whip. Running on two legs and then four Jarrod fled from his captors. His kidnappers. But suddenly Jarrod struck something. Or someone. His head ached brutally and his vision went black as he fell to the ground. The Overseer gathered the unconscious slave and carried him to his designated area. A quick face-full of water revived Jarrod. He awoke gasping and sputtering. He glared at the Overseer but the man simply pointed to a nearby tree. It was marked with a bright red X made of paint.

"Cut it down." the man said. He tapped his folded whip against his leg. It was an order. Jarrod refused. The Overseer struck Jarrod across the face. Once. Twice. He yelled obscenities at the Keidran. And when that proved fruitless he hit Jarrod a third time. When the boy refused to even move, the Overseer seized hold of his shirt and dragged him back to the main camp.

It took three days and three food deprived nights for Jarrod to finally realize that he couldn't escape from the wretched place he'd been transported to. The metal bands that he wore prevented him from leaving his the work camp. Every escape attempt he tried failed. When the exasperated and angry Keidran tried to strike out at the humans in anger, his fists seemed to slide off an invisible wall and the bands lit up with unknown sigils. He was trapped. He was defenseless. Sullenly Jarrod turned his anger to his so called 'job'. He attacked trees with a vengeance. He pooled his anger into his fists and arms, and showed the wood no mercy. Despite his failures, Jarrod became determined to find a way to escape.

For a year Jarrod was forced to perform his task alone. Under the careful eye of the Overseer he and other slaves chopped and hauled trees in their own areas of the forest. It was a densely wooded forest. And the trees selected to be cut down were carefully chosen. Another slave once said that they only marked certain trees so that the slaves would always have work to do. To Jarrod, the trees seemed endless. Day after day he worked. The constant labor at first gave him aches and pains as his unused muscles were forced to work grueling hours. Many nights Jarrod was not able to sleep for the pain. But slowly the pain dwindled. The aches became dull and then nonexistent. Jarrod became building up muscles in his arms and back.

During Jarrod's second year, after the slavers lost two of their slaves to felled trees, the men in charge decided to try a new tactic. Jarrod was given a partner. A mixed-breed wolf Keidran who was a year or so older than Jarrod. Or that's what he guessed based on the other male's appearance. They were told to split the jobs. One would do the bulk of the cutting, and the other would be in charge of cutting the sections. Then they both hauled the wooden sections during the latter half of the day.

At first neither male spoke. Not so much out of fear of the Overseer, but because neither was used to talking. Eventually, Jarrod learned that Thane was a born into captivity. Before being brought to the forest he'd been a house-slave. Something that he'd done had caused his master to have to sell him. Thane wouldn't say what it was. Jarrod found it odd that Thane was not outraged by his captivity. Instead he seemed to endure it without comment or complaint. "[I am a slave.]" Thane explained. "[It is all that I am and all that I will be.]" Despite Jarrod's vehement denial that Keidrans were in fact free beings, Thane would not be persuaded. Still, despite their differences in opinion a slow friendship developed.

Seeds of Hope

Winter was the most difficult time to endure. Whereas the Overseers had large bonfires and solid wood houses, the slaves were left with cloth huts and some threadbare blankets. Often times they slept in one big pile simply to remain warm.

During one such winter, Jarrod caught his friend doing something strange. Early in the morning he slipped outside into the forest. Jarrod was awoken by the sound of the wind picking up. He peeked outside of the hut. After gathering a pile of half-frozen branches Thane knelt down in the snow and pulled out a small stone from his pocket. And for a moment he stared at the pile of branches. Jarrod wondered if perhaps he was praying. He even stepped outside to try and approach his friend, when suddenly the branches burst into flame. Jarrod fell muzzle-first into the snow. When he rose, shaking ice from his fur, Thane was sitting calmly next to a merrily crackling fire. Jarrod approached his friend cautiously.

Thane admitted freely that he knew a bit about magic. It was, he explained, the reason his previous master was forced to sell him and at the same time it was not. Jarrod ignored the confusing comment and pleaded with his friend to be taught how to use magic. At first, Thane refused. It was dangerous, he said. And magic wasn't a toy to be played with. But the persistent Jarrod finally managed to convince Thane to give him a small lesson. And so, in secret, the magic lessons began. The slaves quickly found out that whereas Thane's affinity and abilities were rooted with fire, Jarrod's affinity was with something entirely different. He had an affinity to plants. Whenever he aimed at a tree, trying to create a fireball, the tree would instead sprout into life. Even if it was out of season. The magical abilities came as a surprise to Jarrod as neither of his parents had never shown any signs of being gifted. Thane asked Jarrod what his parents' jobs had been. The answer seemed to provoke some bit of thoughtfulness in Thane, but Jarrod failed to see a connection.

Over the next two years Jarrod and Thane practiced their abilities whenever they had free time. Thane would show Jarrod something, and then Jarrod would work on creating an equivalent. Thanks to the abundance of plant-life the slaves lived with every day, finding material for Jarrod to practice with was not difficult. Jarrod practice on the trees during lunch. And at night there were plenty of roots and vines within reach of the tent's cloth walls. When Jarrod solidified his three main abilities, the lessons took a slight turn. Thane and Jarrod began using their abilities against one another, in mock battles to see how effective their magic was in combat situations. They had but one stone to use so the battles were short and done in extremely close quarters. These sessions were only done during times that the humans feasted. Very often the Overseers consumed too much wine, and slept as though dead during the night. Jarrod and Thane were very careful during these sessions and made sure that they weren't noticed.

Plan of Action

Toward the end of the fourth year of Jarrod's captivity he and Thane came up with a plan of escape. Or rather, they came up with a plan for Jarrod to escape. Thane had no desire to leave. "[I will be caught. And the next master I have may not be so kind.]" Thane explained. Jarrod objected that these 'masters' were not kind at all. Thane promised that there were worse things a slave could do than cut down wood. Jarrod had questioned his friend, but Thane would not explain any further.

Their plan was simple. "[The problem.]" Thane explained "[is the bands.]" The magic bands that kept slaves from escaping. If they could get the bands off, Jarrod could be free. Their first attempts at removing the bands failed miserably. Thane attempted to use his magic to melt the bands. Despite his best attempts to control the heat, the bands caused his magic to backlash. The superheated metal of the bands severely burned their wrists. It made each swing of the axe almost excruciating. But they were lucky that the scars were hidden by the thick metal. Their Overseer complained about the decrease in logs, but he did not take notice of them otherwise. It took two weeks for the burns to heal. And even after the singed fur grew back, scars still remained. The second attempt at removing the bands was a tad more successful. Using his ability to control plants, Jarrod tried to pry the bands off. But due to his lack of experience, the mana stone emptied before he made any real progress. But at least, Thane commented, there were no scars that time.

Their third attempt was completed on a cold and rainy night. The slaves were allowed to leave early, because of the lightning the storm brought with it. Huddled in a corner of the hut, Jarrod tried his magic once again. But instead of gradually using mana to coax the plants to move, he poured all of his energy into a single effort. The thin vine he controlled strained mightily to try and pry apart his left wrist band. But to no avail. Jarrod focused more energy, and more, and then right at the end of the stone's capacity the vine lit up from within. And the sigils that always appeared at the edge of the forest glowed in response. And the band clicked open.

The resulting commotion that Jarrod made resulted in several slaves starting to approach. Frightened that they would be discovered Jarrod quickly snapped the band closed again. The sharp metallic click echoed in his ears. He was trapped. Again. But now Jarrod was invigorated. He knew how to get the bands off! He just had to...practice.

Several months passed as Jarrod honed his ability. The trick, he learned, was putting just the right amount in the vine and doing so in a way that was quick and precise. Each band seemed to have its own frequency. Its own amount that was required to open it. When he abandoned the tactic of brute force prying, Jarrod found that he had just enough mana in the stone to remove the two wristbands. But that still left the collar. "[It's time I taught you one last lesson.]" Thane admitted, after seeing Jarrod succeed for the fifth time at taking both wrist bands off but run out of mana for the last item.

Jarrod"s last lesson was on how to put mana into the stone. It was the hardest lesson yet as it required complete concentration. And Jarrod was distracted by the possibility of escape. Weeks passed. A few slaves tried their own escape attempts. But all were caught, punished, and forced to return to work. The sight of the battered and beaten faces drove Jarrod to be more diligent during his lessons.

Finally, Jarrod was able to prepare the mana stone himself. As a reward for succeeding in his final lesson, Thane gifted Jarrod with the stone. "[You will need it more than I.]" was the cryptic response to Jarrod's protest.

Spring was in full swing the day that Jarrod decided to escape. Thane was to be the distraction. "[It is,]" the young Keidran explained, "[the least I can do.]"

They worked as though it was any other day. But just before they were to haul their first load of wood sections back to the base, Thane began to wail. Faking a bout of severe stomach sickness, he moaned and groaned his way to their Overseer. He pitched himself forward, crying, wailing, and making and awful racket. Concerned only that he would infect the other slaves, the head Overseer approached Thane. And in his moment of inattention, Jarrod acted. He yanked the mana stone out of his pocket and reached for his power. Calling to the closets thin plant he thrust his hands forward. The plant, or briar, as it turned out to be, cut cruelly into Jarrod's skin. But he ignored the pain and concentrated on the amount of mana he was using. He got one wrist band off. Then the other. The collar was harder but then it too released. He was free! But the sound of the heavy bands falling to the ground caught the Overseers attention.

The big man gave a startled yell and raised his whip. He snapped it toward Jarrod, but the Keidran quickly gathered the bands and threw one of them at the Overseer. The tightly bound leather crashed into the metal, throwing off the Overseer's aim.

"[Run!]" Thane urged his friend.

And so Jarrod did.

The next crack of the whip caught his ear, and the pain nearly blinded Jarrod. But still he ran. There was a loud shout behind Jarrod, and a cry of pain. One that had a familiar voice. Jarrod stumbled, then tripped.

"[Run!]" the voice called again. But another cry of pain sounded.

Angry at the Overseer's actions, Jarrod turned to see the man's hand raised, preparing to strike Thane once again. Forgetting his plan, Jarrod charged the Overseer. Together they fell onto the ground. Jarrod began kicking and biting at the human. It never occurred to either of them that they had axes on their belts.

Until Thane called to Jarrod.

"[Use your axe!]" the light-colored Keidran cried.

Jarrod was fast. But the human was faster. The blunt edge of his axe smacked solidly against Jarrod's head.

He saw stars. Then the forest went blurry and faded into blackness. With a moan of pain Jarrod fell to the ground.

The Overseer rose to his feet. And began sweeping dirt from his pants.

"Stupid slave." he grumbled.

So intent was he on cleaning his clothes and complaining that the Overseer missed Thane coming up behind him. With the Overseer's fallen whip in hand. A sharp crack sounded as the whip wrapped around the Overseer's feet. Thane jerked the whip backwards and the Overseer fell. His momentum increased by his own weight, the human's head collided with a rock on the ground. And then the man was still.

Stepping over the inert body, Thane approached Jarrod and shook him several times.

Jarrod awoke with his head pounding and his eyes unable to focus.

"[Wake up.]" Thane said urgently. "[You have to go. They're coming.]"

Jarrod remembered. The plan. The escape. Freedom.

He looked at his arms and gave a cheerful cry. Jarrod shot to his feet and prepared to run.

But then he paused, and looked at the body on the ground. Realization made his eyes widen. Pulling out the mana stone, Jarrod approached his friend.

"[You can't.]" Thane said firmly. He smiled sadly and shook his head.

Jarrod became angry, then confused. Then with a sickening feeling in his gut he raised the stone and peered at it. His still blurred vision revealed what he hadn't seen before. The stone was broken. Somewhere in the fight, he'd shattered part of it. He truly couldn't save his friend. Not now. Not ever.

"[Run.]" Thane said. The single word held sadness, and determination. He folded Jarrod's paw over the broken stone. "[Go.]" he urged. Jarrod shook his head. He didn't want to leave his friend. There was a dead Overseer. An escaped slave. Nothing good could come of his friend. Thane gave Jarrod a shove.

Frightened, heartsick and angry, Jarrod fled. He ran past his designated area, passed the tall trees, passed the boundary fence, passed all of the known forest. And then further. He ran until he collapsed next to a small stream. Using the last of his strength Jarrod pulled himself into a bit of shade. And there he slept.

New Life

When Jarrod awoke, he was alone in the middle of a strange forest. But he was free. He wandered aimlessly for days, feeding off of the freely growing vegetation despite an initial . Finally he came upon civilization. A small city. It was a port city. Jarrod could see the ocean from the hill next to the main gate. Cautiously he approached the front gate. The guards welcomed him and asked if he needed assistance.

Apparently his battered appearance was enough for them to deduce he'd been a slave. To his astonishment, Jarrod found that slavery was not tolerated in this place. And escaped slaves were welcome, though not 'officially', the guards were quick to explain.

With the fragmented remains of his slave collar clinking quietly in his pocket, Jarrod entered the city. A passing elderly woman took one look at his appearance and gave him a few small circular items. Coins, he was told, for him to get some food. Jarrod followed his nose to the nearest tavern. Using the kindly woman's money he bought his first decent meal in five years. From bits and pieces of conversations he overheard, Jarrod was able to determine that he'd escaped to the the city of Arroy in the Republic of the Free Lands.

For the first week Jarrod was a scavenger. He begged for money, and food, and took whatever was offered. An gruff grey-furred Keidran refused to give him any coins, but before walking away told him that if he was looking for a job, to be at the docks at sunrise. Jarrod arrived when the moon was still in the sky. The Keidran that had spoken to him was there, waiting. "Good." the stranger commented. "You'll do." They shook paws and a deal was made. The Keidran turned out to be the owner of a docking company. And the company needed a few extra hands for the spring season. So Jarrod became a dockworker. He started at the bottom of the job chain, sweeping floors and hauling out trash. Slowly, but surely he worked his way up to become a dock worker. Most of the work in his new position was manual labor. He was to help unload the vessels that arrived and load the ones that were leaving. But he had three set meal times and he was allowed two days of rest every other month. For Jarrod, it was paradise.

Working at the dockyard, Jarrod was among the first to find out when a new shipment of mana stones arrived. He saved part of his pay to purchase mana stones from the market. In a few months he'd saved up enough to purchase three stones. Jarrod never restored the stone he'd escaped with to a viable state. Instead he found a jeweler who, for a modest fee, affixed the stone to a clasp and leather string. Jarrod has worn the stone around his neck ever since. As a reminder of where he'd come from, and who he'd lost.

It took Jarrod a while to get used to the city. He learned that along with slavery being banned magic was allowed. But it made Jarrod nervous to be seen using his abilities in public. So on his days off, Jarrod frequented the market and visited the local gardens. He found that in the garden under cover of night he could practice his magic without anyone noticing. If he made a mistake or accidentally uprooted a plant, he would place some seeds in reparation.

Recent Times

Despite his best efforts, Jarrod was never able to remember the village where he grew up. He remember his parents, and his mother's voice, but nothing concrete about the village. One evening, after practicing some new techniques, Jarrod fell asleep in the gardens. He awoke the next morning from a very strange dream. One that triggered some memories from his childhood. He recalled a fountain, the sign from his mother's apothecary, and one of his mother's lessons. But it wasn't a lesson about plants it was a lesson about his family's history. His grandparents had been slaves, young Jarrod was told.

When he asked around work were he could find information about former slaves, one of his fellow workers suggested that Jarrod try Median. It wasn't that far from Arroy, the Feline Keidran assured Jarrod. And if he needed the time from work he could always volunteer to travel with one of the more valuable shipments as security.

Additional notes:
Magic Abilities
Jarrod's affinity is with plants. Using his mana stone Jarrod is able to convince plants to grow out of season, to grow rapidly, or to move in an unnatural manner. This latter ability works similar to a puppeteer controlling a puppet. Jarrod controls the plants using mana. It he uses a lot of energy for a single plant, that plant will start to glow with an unnatural light. Jarrod can convince healthy plants to wither and die but it takes more energy to do something so against the natural flow of life. And it's not something that he likes to do.

Language
Jarrod knows both Keidran and Human. He knows some basic words in Basitin, those terms relating to ships and the dockyard.

Name: Leva Branden.
Race: Basitin.
Subspecies: Western Basitin.
Age: 33.
Profession: Former lieutenant in the Western Basidian army, now a private investigator and treasure-hunter for hire.
Physical description: Leva is tall by Basitin standards, standing at about 5 foot 5. Her fur is a stark, iron grey, though it turns to near-white at her shoulders, elbows and knees. She has loose, elbow-length hair that is somewhat darker than her fur; if her fur is iron, her hair is stone. She has a single, small braid running down her left side down to her breast. Her eyes are light blue with small flecks of orange in them, and she has a face that can be very pleasant but only when she wants it to, which is none too often.

Like most Basitin women, she is more scrawny and wiry than buff and brawny, with the notable exception being her legs which are long and have very well-muscled thighs. She has a burn-scar the size of a dinner-plate on her left shoulder-blade (more on that in the backstory section). It's not really an ugly scar, just a patch on her back without fur where her skin is a dark, ever so slightly purple kind of grey.

When it comes to clothing, Leva prefers large shirts of thin, faintly pink cloth with long, wide sleeves that flow in the wind, with the chest area covered in stylish red leather armour. [http://maskworld.scene7.com/is/image/maskworld/104396-gladiatorin-brustpanzer-leder-rot-female-gladiator-leather-breast-armour-red?$mainshot-2$] At the end of the sleeves are thin but strong silk cords that she can pull to tighten the normally wide and open sleeves, and make sure they don't catch on anything. She usually wears well-tanned brown pants made out of tough cloth, upheld by a modest leather belt and with small leather bands over the knees. Her feet are wrapped in black strips of flexible leather, held together by leather cords tied in fiercely complex knots.

Weapons: Leva uses a double-edged bastard sword, which she can use surprisingly deftly in just one hand, though its real potential doesn't shine through until she wields it with both. During her days in the Western Basidian army she became fairly adept at archery as well, but she hasn't touched a bow in quite some time.

Other notable equipment: A personal journal filled with notes recorded during her years as a PI, a small and an ivory pipe with accompanying tobacco-pouch and flint and steel.

Backstory: Leva was lucky in the army, as such things are reckonned anyway. She was a bit of a natural, and acquiring the rank of lieutenant didn't take her very long. Better yet, the garrison she ended up leading included several of her friends. She didn't have to endure many of the horrors of war, until she and her garrison were sent out on an assault against the Eastern Basitins. They were put on a dreadnaught and set sail, hoping to arrive at first light and take the Easterlings by surprise. But during the night, a terrible storm struck the vessel. The winds broke the mast in half, spilled lanterns set the deck ablaze, and eventually the whole ship went down. The next morning, Leva was woken up by a Keidran child poking her with a stick. She had washed up on the beach of Median.

Eversince, Leva has had a dark scar on her left shoulder-blade, and terrible trouble recalling even the tiniest details of her life on the Basitin Isles. While she remembers the skills she learned (the Basitin language, her combat-training, etc.), her parents, friends, career in the army and life as a Basitin are all but lost to her. Arriving in an unfamiliar place with no friends or contacts, and even hardly any knowledge of her own self, Leva became a Jack Of All Trades, until she had something halfway resembling a dignified life.

Eventually, her employers noticed her prowess with her sword, and her assignments became a little more similar in nature. The job that put her on the map was the recovery of a feline Keidran slave (owned by a Human master) who had been kidnapped by a pack of Wolves. Eversince there have been many words used to desribe her, the more respectful of which being treasure-hunter, sword-for-hire and "private entrepreneur".

Now, all Basitins enjoy a good fight now and again, but Leva did eventually tire of such similar requests, and began to open a business of more...subtle nature. Information is just as valuable as gold, jewels or slaves, so becoming a private investigator can be a rather lucrative endavour. It didn't take her long to learn the tricks of trade, what with many of them being similar to those of her other job. Surprisingly, the clientele of the two occupations was rather similar as well, with many familiar faces popping up sooner or later. Leva's services aren't registered anywhere, and the only people who know of them are the well-connected and the poor.

While she still takes on a wide variety of jobs and tasks, she can now at least turn down the less savoury ones, and has something a of a reputation nowadays as the go-to person for people that want things done, and want them done discreetly. She is a professional, but she genuinely enjoys what she does, and doesn't care who knows it.

The one thing about her past that haunts her though, is the absence of friends. She doesn't remember them, but there is a hole in her psyche where they once where. She has filled this hole semi-succesfully by taking up smoking, regularly enjoying a good pipe, but the hole is still there. It's well-hidden, and it doesn't bother her too much, but it's there. And someday it is going to need filling.

Additional notes: Her diverse clientele has given her a fair knowledge of both Human and Keidran, though she has had little to no exposure to the poetry and literature of either language.

She has never gone on any epic quests and rare indeed were the events where she encountered anything more dangerous than a single old wizard. Regardless, by now she is an experienced veteran in her field, with past work including treasure-hunting, hostage-rescue, tracking down wanted individuals, espionage and information-gathering, exposing and investigating corruption in several guilds as well as the city hall and, on extremely rare occasions, work of a less peaceful nature, though she tries to keep that to a minimum these days.

<spoiler=Blasphemous Rex - Eric and Owen Thorn>
Name: Eric Thorn
Sex: Male - Heterosexual
Race: Human
Subspecies:
Age: 31
Profession: Traveling Merchant
Physical description: Build: Average-Short Height, Healthy Skin: White - Tan Hair: Blond, Well Groomed Eyes: Turquoise, Far Sighted - Doesn't have Glasses Clothes: Appealing, yet Practical; A brown coat with too many pockets, a white shirt, and brown slacks with too many pockets. Resembles his brother.
Weapons: "Hired" Help, Crossbow if Necessary
Other notable equipment: Various Goods for Sale
Additional notes: Addicted to Coffee; Knows Human and enough of the other languages to sell goods.

- - -

Name: Owen Thorn
Sex: Male - Heterosexual
Race: Human
Subspecies:
Age: 30
Profession: "Mercenary"
Physical description: Build: Tall, Lanky Skin: White - Tan Hair: Dirty Blond, Scruffy Eyes: Turquoise Clothes: Brown Leather Armor, a white shirt, and brown slacks. Resembles his brother.
Weapon: Bastard Sword (2h sword)
Other notable equipment: Mother's Metal Necklace
Additional notes: Addicted to Coffee; Only knows Human.

- - -

Shared Backstory: Eric and Owen Thorn grew up together. Unlike most brothers, they never minded each other's company much. The two were born in the Human Kingdom, and raised in the capital city. They technically had Keidran slaves, but more along the lines of servants being paid with food and board, and mostly because it would be a social taboo and too suspicious for their family not to have any. Eric quickly became an apprentice to his father - a shop manager - and Owen joined the city guard.

At 20 and 19, after their mother was murdered for smuggling slaves out of the city, the two brothers, their father and their two Keidran servants fled for the Free Lands, using the same smuggling route of which their mother had been the very first leg. Once in the Republic, the two parted with Silver and Art - the Keidran - and settled in a small port side town with their father. Eric opened up a shop with his dad and Owen joined the guard again.

Then, at the ages of 28 and 27, their father got ill, and died a few months later. Eric decided he no longer wanted to be anchored in one spot, and sold his and his father's shop to become a traveling merchant. He managed to convince his brother to come with him as "protection," and the two continued to do just that.
 

RBMidknight

Elite Member
Nov 27, 2009
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Name: Arryn
Race: Keidran
Subspecies: Tiger
Gender: Female
Age: 10
Profession: Hunter

Physical description: She stands at 5'9", her tail reaches all the way down to the ground when it's straight. She weighs about 132 pounds, which is quite enough for her. Her fur is just like you'd think would be on a tiger, orange fur for the most part with black stripes all over and white fur on her front torso and front side of her neck, around her mouth, around the groin and on her palms and under her feet. She's got black hair that reaches down to the middle of her back. Her eyes are green. She's got size C breasts and she has a kind of an hourglass build. She doesn't normally wear clothes, but when she has to, she has a pair of dark green trousers and a green sweater to cover herself with. She doesn't care much for footwear.

Weapons: Sword and a bow with some arrows

Other notable equipment: A pendant from her mother she keeps inside her fur, though obviously it dangles down from her neck if she leans forward.

Backstory: Arryn was born into one hunter family out of few that hunted together, who hunted wild animals. They lived inside the forest near Lyn'Knoll, never going there themselves since they had what they needed in the forest. She had, from a young age, been alright at hunting, her father teaching her everything he knew. She was able to crouch carefully and sneak on the wild animals, hunting them successfully most of the time.

Her father was still the one to provide his own family with food, but he never said no to Arryn following him on the hunts. They were very careful and usually never got hurt, and if they did, it was usually never anything serious. Arryn had one time had to carry her father home after a nasty fight with one of the wild animals, which had gotten away, but that hadn't mattered to Arryn, since she needed to get her father home so her mother could take care of him.

Arryn had never been particularly girly about anything about her, even bounding her chest down with bandages, though that was mostly so it wouldn't get in the way while she was hunting. She was among the better hunters in the group of hunter families, but she wanted to do more than just hunting. At the age of 10, she decided to go and had the support of the others. They were sad to see her leave, but they didn't stop her from doing what she wanted to do. She traveled by foot for many days, often needing to hide in the trees if she encountered someone she didn't know, before arriving in Median.

Additional notes: She's not too picky about a mate, though she still prefers males over females, if only ever so slightly. She doesn't speak any human due to the group she traveled with didn't visit any human villages or encounter any on their travels. She only speaks in Keidran.

<spoiler=Serioli - Essil>Name: Essil
Race: Keidran
Subspecies: Feline, some hybridization in ancestry
Age: 9
Profession: Minstrel
Physical description: 5'9'' tall, 112 lbs. White body fur that seems long compared to many Keidran, white head hair that comes to his shoulders. Pale blue eyes, pink nose and pads. Usually wears green short trousers that end six inches past his knees and he has an instrument case that has been adapted and padded to be worn over both shoulders. He also has a filled tube of cloth that is tied and connected at both ends with a piece of rope, this he either carries like a satchel or in a hand. A 5'9'' staff is either carried or nearby.
Weapons: Staff and natural weapons
Other notable equipment: His main (and favourite) instrument is a lute but there is also a small flute and some shallow hand drums in there. The cloth tube carries general items, food and drink if traveling, a thick cloak for if it rains or gets too cold, some writing implements and ink. A small folding knife, more tool than weapon.
Backstory: As the descendant of a long line of 'ornamental' Keidran slaves, Essil is pretty to look at. He has been taught numerous instruments to entertain his masters and their guests. He has also been lent to other households for entertainment and pedigree breeding purposes.
He escaped with his parents approximately nine months ago and made it into the Border nations where they moved gradually westwards as they were unable to remain in kingdoms that allowed slavery to exist, both from a hatred of it to the fear that they would be enslaved again or returned to the Human nation. As they were originally owned near to the western border of the human lands they could not simply disappear into Felimarlche
They settled in a small village, Leafmantle, close to the Forest of wolves where they have been living for approximately six months. Essil has been learning letters and finding a new love of art to go with his freedom and is staying in Median to get access to better materials.
Additional notes: Speaks Keidran and fluent human.
[/spoiler]

Name: Marcus
Race: Human
Age: 26
Profession: Survivalist
Physical description: Marcus stands at an even 5"10 and weighs just over 160lbs, with a lightly tanned complexion. He has broad shoulders and is reasonably built. His hair is a dark blonde, short and wavy that falls just over his deep blue eyes. He wears a rough dusty brown shirt, with khaki trousers and heavy boots.
Weapons: Marcus carries a short sword, with an intricate design along the blade.
Other notable equipment: A small etched ring, carrying a coat of arms.

Backstory: Originally living in a small village, Marcus's guardians moved him away from the village and made a new home in the mountains. From a young age Marcus was taught how to survive and live off the land. His guardians both being expert hunters. they used to tell him stories of the old days and the battles once fought. Inspired by these, Marcus quickly picked up a sword and learned how to fight, sparring with his uncle. Many years passed with Marcus learning more and more. Eventually time took it's tool and his guardians, fell sick. Both succumbing to the illness, they left Marcus everything. this had a deep effect on him, still young at the time the sense of loss overwhelmed him, feeling as though he was the cause, that he was too weak to help he began focusing on making himself better and to make himself stronger. He is often found wandering the lands, helping people and offering a hand to anyone that needs it.

Additional notes: Marcus is a quiet, held back person. He isn't comfortable in large groups, though he will do his best to help and pull his weight, he finds it hard to open up to others.

Name: Matthew
Race: Human
Age: 33
Profession: Mercenary, Ex-kingdom mage
Physical description: Matthew is 5'8", Caucasian with shoulder length dark brown hair, his right eye is blue but his left is covered by bandages and a face plate which cover his forehead and a lot of the left side of his face, he wears a modified military jacket which has been patched up at the tears and armoured on the left side, it has had all kingdom insignias removed and is worn over a dark gray shirt, black trousers and black plated boots, he also wears a dark blue travel cloak over everything else, around his waist is a brown belt with a small bag attached for minimal medical supplies and a sheath for his survival Knife, lastly he wears a heavy plated gauntlet on his left hand for offhand protection during a fight.

Weapons: A Short spear with a metal pole, the spear is heavy with a larger tip which is unique in its appearance, as the tip of the blade is followed downward it flares out in a fire like shape with several sharp, hook like points sticking out, the edge is plain silver while the centre is darkened with an ornate pattern containing several symbols from an old language and another which seems more like a family crest, Matthew usually wields it with one hand.

Other notable equipment: a small medical kit and survival knife.

Backstory: Matthew isn't aware of his past beyond 2 years ago, he was supposedly found on a battlefield and brought away from the fighting having suffered near fatal wounds, his apparent rescuer was an old Keidran who said he was repaying a debt to Matthew for freeing him 13 years ago. The Keidran told Matthew his name and as much of his past as the old one knew, Matthew had been a mage for the kingdom, serving under a man who held ideals of human superiority and led a revolt against the rest of the country and waging war on the Northern plain.

Matthew had been a part of it, although not of his own will, he had freed the Keidran along with a few others and had been severely punished by his superior for it, being made an effective slave to the corrupt man by the same power that held the slaves in check, over the years he had been forced to kill many people with his power, earning himself a reputation as a cold killer, however, despite any power this revolt had it inevitably fell to greater numbers, but before the end 2 years ago his superior gave him the order to use the forbidden magic.

The resulting destruction was great, causing countless deaths, but like all men who turn to it, he had no control, the Black mana ran rampant for a time, devouring whatever there was to devour, including the collar that bound Matthew to the will of his unwanted master, once his chains were gone, his will returned and the black mana, vanished, leaving Matthew lying in field of corpses, his mind effectively broken.

The recovery made by Matthew was a lucky one considering the time the mana was active for, though he may have received physical damage and lost his memories among other things the fact remained he was alive, he spent a year recovering from internal damage, during which the Keidran who had saved him passed away, leaving Matthew alone in a land unknown to him, after recovering, he collected his belongings including an old military uniform that had been partially torn up, and a spear which seemed familiar to Matthew.

Having retrieved his belongings, he left to wander the land in search of a purpose where he ended up a mercenary for hire, he did the jobs presented to him in each settlement until there was either no work or he was recognized for who he had been by a traveller from the kingdom, whereupon he left to the next town and has continued wandering for the past year, his wandering leading him to the Port city of median where he searches for more work.

Additional notes: Matthew will mostly seem rather cold in certain situations, as if he possessed no emotion, he has a certain look in his eye as if he's missing a vital part of himself.

List of spells:

- Air cutter: Using his spear Matthew changes gathered mana into a rotating disk of wind with enough speed to cut through most things, once ready the cutter is thrown as a projectile.

- Ferrous Vines: Matthew uses mana to manipulate the metal plates attached to his clothing, forming 3 long chains (2 from the jacket plating and one from the gauntlet.) to enhance his fighting ability, the chains are usually used to bind, attack and defend against multiple foes but has other miscellaneous uses.

- Sonic Strike: By manipulating mana in a certain way Matthew can use it to perform a high speed piercing strike over a fair distance at the speed of sound, allowing him to plough through up to 3 enemies on a thin line, this ability does require a short time to charge before being let loose, creating a small delay between the line up and the actual strike.

- Mana Spire: Matthew draws mana and infuses it into his spear, changing it into a stronger and lighter weapon capable of discharging mana in destructive bursts, while this is active the spear can do no damage to Matthew himself due to a forger's link, the mana inside the spear may also make it possible to block certain magic on contact with the spear itself, naturally limited to anything with a small enough contact zone, after losing his memory and the two years that followed this is the only spell Matthew has yet to learn again.

Name: Jae Windross
Race: Human
Age: 15
Profession: Unemployed (aspiring musician)
Physical description: Jae is tall for his age and lanky; he is roughly 5'8'' tall, and clothing has a tendency to hang off him due to his skinny frame. He has messy brown hair coming down floppily over both eyes,
He typically wears a plain white shirt a few sizes too big for him and baggy blue knee-length shorts.
Weapons: Metal gauntlets covering only the back of the hand and the top joint of the fingers, with 10-inch-long metal claws coming out of the knuckles.

Other notable equipment: A beaten lute he's carried with him since he was 9, and a length of rope wrapped diagonally around his chest like a sash, "'cause you never know when you're gonna need some rope".

Backstory: Jae grew up in an orphanage and suffered from chronic depression as a youth; the housemasters were cruel and uncaring, the other children thought it was fun to kick him and spit in his hair and there wasn't anything in the world that was really worth living for.

The only times Jae ever felt happy as a child was when the traveling bards of the time came and performed in the Meidan city square. He'd sneak out to watch them play; getting caught wasn't much of an issue, as the heads of the orphanage didn't particularly care if any of their youngsters ran out and got caught under the wheels of a wagon, and as such they didn't take much notice when Jae nabbed a length of rope out of the store-room and made his way out into the world.

He got by by playing; he'd adopted a dusty old lute from one of his heroes, who had replaced his old one with a much sleeker model and generously donated the older instrument to the young aspiring bard. Jae taught himself by ear; he wasn't great, but he was improving, and the playing - combined with his natural charm - was enough to earn him a lump of bread to get by on every day.

At some point during his 14th year, Jae was approached by the owner of an inn and offered a permanent gig; he'd play during the day and attract them customers, and in return they set him up with a place to sleep and a meal every day. Naturally this wasn't ideal for the ambitious young Jae, who strived to be out in the world spreading his craft, but he told himself this was merely a stepping-stone along the road to fame and greatness. As soon as some ragtag band of adventurers arrived in the tavern, he'd don those awesome claw-things he'd nabbed when that mercenary booked out and left them behind in his room, declare his intentions to be an explorer of the world and order them to take him with them.

Additional notes: Jae dreams of being a renowned musician, and has made it his goal to travel the world, showing people all across the globe how amazing and brilliant he is.

Jae only speaks Human; he knows a few songs in other languages, but he doesn't understand what the words actually mean.

Name: Matrim Cauthon
Race: Human.
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Profession: Cleric.
Type of Magic: Healing Magic, with some simple telekinetic spells.

Physical Description: <spoiler=Generally what he looks like>http://th00.deviantart.net/fs32/PRE/i/2008/214/f/3/__Matrim_Cauthon___by_Ravyn1078.jpg
Matrim has a fairly small frame, and is not suited for battle. He is of slightly above average height, at around 6 foot, but has little muscles around himself, due to the lack of needing them. Due to his job of a Cleric, he is forced to wear a white cloak as much as he can, so people can recognise him. He is constantly wearing Long pants, no matter the weather because of a mistake in his past, that caused him to Draw Mana from the Earth, tainting his left leg, and leaving him with a small limp.
He wears a contrasting Black scarf around his neck, since he became sick of wearing nothing but white.
His hair is a ragged Brown, swept to left to keep it out of his eyes, it often does fall down in front of his eyes.
He carries around a walking stick, which is fairly bland, just a plain wooden one with a straight top so he can support himself on it.

Weapons: Matrim carries around a few very small throwing knives, used to protect himself just in case someone tried to take advantage of his small physical stature.

Other Notable Equipment: A Plain Walking stick.

Backstory: Matrim's early life was fairly calm, his parents made fairly decent money, so he spent his young life relaxing. They lived in a secluded, average sized home, buried in the forest for a peaceful life, away from the towns and cities. When he became a teenager, it all changed. His mother, Moiraine, came down with an incurable disease, and his dad became depressed because of it, becoming an alcoholic. Since his father could barely help himself, it was Matrims duty to become the man on the house. He picked up the slack, and started to do the things his father was incapable of; Cutting wood to keep them warm, taking his mother to the nearby town to see the Clerics and doctors each day and to obtain at least a little bit more money but taking a job.

The First year wasn't too much of a change, Moiraine was well enough to help out, and his dad still kept his job, and reserved drinking for night time. However, His mother's health suddenly deteriorated at a rapid rate. It became too much of an effort for a daily trip to health clinics, so they moved into the city, and received home-calls from the Medical Staff.

To try and help his mother, he started to read a few books on medical supplies. One day, he worked up enough courage to ask one of the Clerics, Perrin, to teach him how to use some magic, just in case his mother needed it. Perrin started with a simple spell, how to heal a cut. Matrim worked diligently, and mastered the spell quickly. Perrin was impressed, and started to teach him some higher tier healing spells, which took longer, but Matrim learned how to use them effectively eventually. He soon became apt enough at the art, to be a full time healer for Moiraine.

It worked wonders, having a constant medical advice to stem the disease, his family could move back into his old house in the forest. His dad started to drink less, and became his old self again. Life became nice again, his mother was at times well enough to walk, but most of the time was still bed ridden.

It continued like this for a few more years, until he was 19 years of age. His mother had seemed fine, so he left on a small trip with his friends into the city. He stayed for only 2 nights, but when he came back, his mother was on her death bed.

She had been outside collecting some food for a 'Welcome Home' Meal for Matrim, when she had collapsed. Matrim found out as she only had a few minutes to live. Not seeing any other option, started performing everything he knew, trying Magical medicine, and some traditional medicine. None of it worked. When she was very close to dying, he did the thing that every mage he had seen had told him not to do, he reached into the ground, and tapped the Mana source, bringing it up through him and into his mother. At least that is what he thought would happen. The second the "Dark Mana" went into his system, it shut down, and made him pass out. He woke up Two days later, with his mother dead in front of him. He tried to stand to find a way to bury her, but when he stood, his left leg rejected the idea. He collapsed in a heap, and rolled up his pant leg to see what the problem was. What Greeted him wasn't his own leg, it had became twisted and gnarled, and was pitched black. He tried to find out why it had happened, when he remember that Perrin had warned him about using Dark Mana, and his leg was the price he had to pay. Luckily, it was still in good enough condition to walk on, he just needed some aid.

He forced himself back up, rolling down his pant legs to cover the distorted leg, and smashed a nearby table, breaking off one of the legs to use as a temporary walking stick. He started a long journey to a nearby town, to arrange a funeral for Moiraine. No-body asked him about his limp, until he found Perrin. The Cleric scolded him about using the Dark Mana, but he quickly changed his attitude and started helping him make plans for the funeral.

After a mourning period, he joined up with Perrin to become a full time apprentice. The man taught him other types of Magic, but he didn't want to hurt people, so he focused on only the telekinesis style of magic, since he also found it to be really fun and useful.

He graduated from his master at the age or 23, and roams around city to city, finding places that need a Cleric.

List of Spells: Heal Flesh wounds -- This only heals wounds that are skin deep, such as sprains, cuts, gashes and bruises. It isn't instantaneous, but it heals the wound a lot faster than traditional medicine or waiting.

Mend Deep Wounds -- This is only a temporary healing ability. It can mend all wounds, but only for a limited time. This acts as a "Mana Bandage", and stops the wound for a time, either until Matrim is to tired, there is no mana left, or a doctor with the right tools can help.

Telekinesis -- The simple ability of picking things up with his mana. It only has a small radius of one and a half metre in around him, but he mostly uses it for fun. It can be used to fight however. He can use it as a temporary shield, but it requires significant effort to stop a melee weapon from hitting him, he can lift something up to defend himself or to bolster a defense by reinforcing the object that is receiving the force. But his favourite is to use one of his many throwing knives, to keep people at bay, hurling them at tremendous speeds with a push of his mind.
He can lift a human, but only for a split second.
It only works on one object at a time.
 

Baldrek

Elite Member
Jun 26, 2008
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Country
Norway
The port city of Median is a sprawling urban area filled with lines upon lines of houses divided by cobbled streets and alleyways. Walls of stone more than a century old cut through the city, dividing it into rough districts and encircling it's border to protect its inhabitants from outside threats. Once an important city in the Human Empire, the city used to have a Templar garrison at all times before the rebellion. And a Templar tower used to rise far above the walls, an imposing sight to remind people of who the real power in the city used to be. Nowadays however, only the ruined first floor of the tower remains, having been razed to throw off any remaining ties with the old Empire. And as a result the skyline is now dominated by the few towers and church spires belonging to the resident magic academy and the clerics, as well as the countless masts of ships leaving and entering the harbor. As an important trade hub between the Republic of the Free Lands and the outside world, the city of Median receives more than its fair share of traffic and commerce, and many outdoor markets and shops of all kinds can be found within its walls.
The city is positioned at the northern end of a small gulf, making the area a natural harbor that is well shielded from rough seas and storms. A small lighthouse is positioned at the inlet to the gulf to help ships avoid the reefs close to the inlet, it is kept running by apprentice mages in an agreement between the city council and the mages guilds. But there is little else of interest close to the inlet to the gulf.
The area surrounding the city is mostly rural farmland with a few villages in between, but the high road west is a valuable trade route to the Capital city, even though the perils of brigands and highwaymen are as present today as they have always been. The high road leading east first comes into contact with another port city called Arroy before crossing the border into the Border Nations.

- From Lucious Askanti's, The Travelers Guide to Mekkan.
The cobblestones felt cold against Katja's feet as she walked, having only been out in the sun for the better part of an hour. It made her glad that she kept her feet wrapped up, as the cold feeling would have been even more intense without the cloth between her feet and the roughly shaped stone.
Pulling her mind away from the cold sensation, she focused her gaze on the horizon, where a few stone spires had been visible for a while now, a tell tale sign that a bigger city was just beyond the horizon. And surely enough, a few hours later she was walking up to one of the city gates. It was an imposing sight in and of itself, the walls encircling the town reaching at least 10 meters, and with two even taller towers flanking the gate. The gate itself, however, was wide open, in what seemed like a gesture of welcome.
Katja stopped and looked in suppressed awe at the massive stone structure spanning around the city, feeling terribly uneasy about entering as one of the guards near the gate shouted. "Alright people, keep moving! Don't hold up traffic!" As he motioned towards the gate with his halberd for people to get a move on.

Not wanting to be a nuisance to the local guard, Katja pulled the hood of her cloak closer around her face and followed the crowd into the city. And moments later she regretted it.
All around her there were people, so many that one could hardly walk through the main street without bumping into someone. She remembered that this was one of the main reasons she disliked cities like this, there was just too much happening all at once, she could hardly keep up with what was happening right next to her in this chaos.

Finally making her way into one of the side streets branching off from the main road to the harbor, she stopped to collect herself. She needed to find somewhere to stay for the night, but finding an inn in this mess would be harder than she thought. And to top it off, cities were terrible to navigate, everything looked the same. How the people living here managed to find their way around everyday she would never understand. Having collected her thoughts somewhat, and regained her composure, Katja set off once more into this maze of stone and timber.
 

Blasphemous Rex

Better Than You
Jul 26, 2009
6,494
0
0
". . . Wanna hear a joke?"

"I never want to hear your jokes."

"What do you call a mercenary that doesn't get payed?"

"Your *****."

"Exactly." Eric liked to tell that joke a lot. Owen had long since decided to just get the whole thing over with whenever it came up.

"It's still not true, you know. We share a wallet."

"Yes, but you have to beg at my feet whenever you want some money."

"I don't beg: I threaten." The threatening always came after the begging.

"Right," Eric said dismissively. ". . . We're here." 'Here' was the city of Median. The two often - but not always - traveled the road between Median and the capital. It was a profitable trade route, and the two were, after all, traders. At the very least Eric was.

"Lets take a different route next time. I'm getting tired of all the monotonous scenery."

"I don't make that decision. The Gods of the Goods do." The 'Gods of the Goods' was a rather unfunny joke traders in Mekkan liked to make. None of them believed in these particular gods; It was just a way to tell if a person had any ties to traders somewhere.

"Just shut up. We're not going back to the capital again."

"Whatever you say, boss." Owen rolled his eyes. It was impossible to deal with his brother. He wondered how Eric ever sold anything to anybody.

An hour later the two had arrived at the gates into Median. They exchanged a friendly greeting with the gate keepers, of whom they knew on a first name basis. Owen would probably have a drink with one of them later - that is if he wasn't already in jail for getting into a bar fight. They split up after passing through - Eric headed off to the Merchant's Guild to organize prices and Owen went to their usual inn. It took him near 30 seconds to be in and out with keys to their room and then he was off to the Black Bluebird - one of the few pubs he wasn't barred from yet.
 

Yumi_and_Erea

New member
Nov 11, 2009
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An appreciative puff of smoke left Leva Branden her pipe as her latest client, a merchant by the name of Grindstone, passed a small leather satchet across the large mahogany table, payment for a job well-done. Grindstone did not much care for the smoke, and had no problem showing it, but so long as she was in his employ he could not outwardly reprimand her.

The instant she picked up the satchet, however, she knew something was wrong.
The weight was not right, and a slight shake revealed the contents to be coins.

"The ruby, Mr. Grindstone. The deal was for the ruby."

Indeed, the marble-sized precious stone had originally been set as her payment, and she had rather taken a liking to the idea of owning it. As she had every right to, considering the lengths she had gone to in order to fullfill Grindstone's request.

Now, Grindstone was not a very big-hearted man, and it is no exageration to say that his predominant business-strategy revolved around backstabs, literal or metaphorical. However, as the strong woman with an angry scowl and a large sword rose from her seat and stepped towards him, her leather-bound feet sounding surprisingly heavy on the wooden floor, he was no longer entirely sure this was a universally effective strategy. The guards, armed with halberds and lurking just behind the open chamber doors, felt likewise.

When she got close enough to him that she could have sliced of an ear with her sword, the overweight man pulled the ruby out of his inner pocket and handed it to the grey-furred woman, smiling the pathetic, sycophantic smile of traitors caught red-handed as he did so.

"Such a delightfully funny man you are, Mr. Grindstone." said Leva, her voice not nearly as warm or pleasant as her words.
Both the ruby and the satchet disappeared in one her large sleeves, which was then pulled tightly shut with a cord.

Leva gave the slightest of bows and said, "I will see myself out. Good day." before turning around and headed for the doors, which had been swung inwards to allow the guards to hide. Leva had heard the distinct *clink!* of their armour and weapons, however, and had seen through the plan shortly after her arrival.

Just as a triumphant smirk crossed Grindstone's face, Leva extended her arms out to her sides and grabbed the doors. She then proceeded to swing them outward of the chamber as hard she could, and the sharp crash and surprised groans that followed set forth another pleased puff of smoke. As the Basitin woman left the merchant's mansion and the slightly concussed guards were trying to get back on their feet, an enraged and confused Mr. Grindstone was left all by himself, in a room that still smelled of smoke.

Not a bad day, if I do say so myself, the woman thought, a vague strut in her step and a faint smile on her lips.

Putting the pipe away for now, she decided that a trip to the market was in order before she returned home, maybe with a modest interlude at the local tavern as well. The main street of Median appeared before her, a familiar sight if there ever was one.
 

Dragon_of_red

New member
Dec 30, 2008
6,771
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Matrim tightened his cloak around him, to cover the chill in the air. He aimlessly moved around the towns market, looking in almost all places, trying to find things to waste his time until someone else injured themselves. 'Damn... Why did I have to be on duty today?' he thought as he looked at some vegetables that looked to be rotten in a day or two, so he passed on the chance to purchase one.

As he limped out of the store, his ears picked up a loud cry from a small child. He sighed, but started awkwardly moving towards the direction of the cry. As he neared, he found a small child trying to be re-assured by his mother. "May I be off assistance?" he asked, desperate for some form of work today.
The mother blinked at him, "Oh, um, No. I'll be okay..." she said before leaving.
As he watched her walk away, he lowered his head, "I didn't say I was a Cleric did I? She just thinks I am some random creep" he said to himself, his face filling with a bright pink colour.

He started moving again, not wishing to stay in the same spot as his previous embarrassment. His walking stick making a rhythmic clacking as he walked, and he continued wondering aimlessly, just waiting till someone eventually hurt themselves or sought his assistance.

<spoiler=OOC>It would be grander, but I am not 100% clear on what a Cleric does other than randomly heal people. I don't know if they own a shop, or just wander...
Since the only time one is seen is used to heal Flora...
 

Meta_Trooper

New member
Mar 6, 2010
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Matthew sighed, he was sitting in a corner in some back alley tavern, he'd come in for a quiet drink but it turned out to be far from quiet, the other drinkers got into a fight over some game and a full scale brawl had started, not that he cared, he did choose the place which was known to be more violent, but there were shady jobs on offer in the more obscure parts of the city, and shady always pays well, or not at all, but that only means a little extra blood and maybe some more money, you never can tell what your employers are carrying.

A bottle smashed into the wall next to Matthew and he looked up, it would seem some people take offence at their fights being ignored, he stood up and grabbed his spear which was propped against the wall, the drinkers immediately backed off.

not a brain between the lot of them. thought Matthew as he walked out, he hadn't paid for his drink, after all, since the barman was hiding it'd probably be best not to scare him for something so little, as he stood outside the tavern he though about where to go, from what he was told by a bribed guard there were a few possible employers around where he was but wealthier people on the other side of town, Matthew pulled out a note from his jacket pocket and looked at the list, picking out a name he stepped back into the tavern, propping his spear in the doorway and grabbing a passing brawler.

"Do you know where I could find this man?" Matthew pointed to the name on the note, the man he'd caught stared at him with a confused look for a few moments before his face lit up.

"He'd be around the market at this time of day, dealing in black mar- I mean, being an honest merchant and all."

"Thanks." Matthew put the note away and pushed the man into the crowd, right into a chair that was being swung, he then proceeded to grab his spear, turning it point down, and leaving toward the market.

I'm assuming that the black market does exist, something is always illegal.
 

Lambi

Yuki-Onna
Oct 20, 2009
30,217
0
0
Arryn was amazed by almost everything she saw in the city. This was the first time she had been to one, her group never having so much as seen one. And all those...humans, as she had heard some Keidrans call them. No fur at all! How do they keep themselves warm, she wondered. She'd been forced to wear the only clothing she had since she didn't want to, but had to because apparently you can't just walk around naked when you're in a city. She thought that was very weird, since she was so used to walking around in nothing by now.

When she listened to everything around her, she didn't understand a lot of what everyone was saying. She'd never been taught to talk and understand human, only being able to understand Keidran because of how and where she was raised. When she had tried to speak to some fellow Keidran's, they found it odd that she only spoke Keidran, but didn't mind it. She'd need help if she was to talk to the humans, but help was something she couldn't ask for. She wasn't all that good with others, it seemed, from her small talk with other Keidrans. She didn't know about some things and accidentally offended some, who understood reluctantly why she had done so. She sighed as she walked around, her tail swishing from side to side while she walked.

[Ugh. Hot. So hot. Yet I'm not allowed to take this off. Ugh...] This was not a good day for her. She wondered if she made a right choice to leave her group, but she was sure they would manage without her around and she had wanted to leave.

She'd been given odd looks now and them from others, probably because of her perhaps unusual and plain outfit, but she shrugged them off and continued her wandering.
 

RBMidknight

Elite Member
Nov 27, 2009
5,022
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41
"This ya first time sailin'?"

The rough alcohol-slurred voice came from behind Jarrod. The Keidran had been enjoying his view of the city which was steadily getting closer. In particular he'd been trying to identify the tallest structures. But he turned to see who had addressed him. It turned out to be one of the deckhands of the merchant vessel. A pudgy balding man whose name Jarrod didn't know. In one hand the man clutched a skin of wine.

Jarrod shook his head in answer to the man's question. "No. I've...sailed before." he replied. He stepped away from the rail of the ship, absentmindedly brushing the fur on his arms. The salty air stirred up from the ocean had begun to cling to his clothes and fur in an unpleasant manner. But Jarrod preferred being out in the open than cramped in the small quarters below deck. He sidestepped to be upwind of the slightly inebriated human.

The deckhand eyed Jarrod with a skeptical expression.

"Right then. Well. Just so you know. It's gonna..it's gonna take awhile for our boys to get everything uh...unloaded. What ah...why are you here again?" The man raised his empty hand. He managed to point roughly in the direction that Jarrod was standing in.

[Make sure the cargo gets to Median. Make sure the cargo isn't damaged while being transported to Median. Watch them unload the cargo at Median. Return to Arroy either by ship or by foot when you've used up your days. Don't be late or I'll dock your pay. And tell the harbormaster over there that he owes me a pint of ale.] Jarrod mentally reviewed what his boss had told him before he left. At the time he'd hoped that the last instruction was a joke.

"I'm supposed to make sure the cargo is unloaded safely." Jarrod said slowly.

"Right...right. Well it's gonna to take awhile. Your box is last in the pile, ya know." The comment was followed by another pointing gesture, this time with the hand that held the wine skin.

"I know." Jarrod replied. He'd been the one to load the box back in Arroy's harbor. The three foot square container didn't look like much. But it was heavy enough, and important enough, to warrant being in the back of the cargo hold. On the off chance the ship was raided it meant that it would be one of the last things the thieves would get to.

The deckhand nodded briskly. He started to say more but a loud horn sounded from above, interrupting the conversation. It was a signal. They'd arrived at their destination.

[Already?] Jarrod went back to the rail and leaned over as much as he could. Sure enough, sailors were already in the process of securing the ship. [Time to go.] With a hurried excuse to the deckhand, Jarrod began jogging toward the boarding ramp.

Despite the deckhand's prediction it only took the Median workers fifteen minutes to get to 'his' cargo. Jarrod watched the box get loaded, by two of the workers, onto a small cart. Next to the cart stood a young human male of indeterminate years. The cart was simple wood but painted dark blue. There was a stylized flower on the side. The human signed the receipt with a flourish and the dockworkers moved on to the next box. Jarrod watched the man and his cart disappear into the crowded street. His job was now complete. He was officially on 'vacation'.

Jarrod bid a brief farewell to the captain of the merchant vessel. He was told that the ship would be leaving the next day, and that he was welcome to join the crew for the return trip. A nice offer, to be sure, but one that Jarrod was not interested in. As soon as he cleared the dock he began making his way to the only road he could see.

[Where to first?] he wondered as he drew closer to the crowd.
 

Baldrek

Elite Member
Jun 26, 2008
2,031
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41
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Norway
The buildings all looked the same, with stone or wooden walls, with winding and irregular roads placed between them, this place was a nightmare to navigate. Everything was identical, nothing of note to set one street of houses and shops apart from another, and hardly anything to use as landmarks, only the spires jutting up above the houses in the distance. Katja was still walking along the road, looking for any buildings that looked like they could house an inn, or a perhaps a sign if she was lucky. However, it felt like it had been a while since she started now, and so far she had had little success in her search.

She cursed herself inwardly, it shouldn't be this difficult to merely find a place to stay for the night, yet she had so far proven to be utterly incapable of even such a simple task in this place. She felt completely out of her element here, unable to keep tabs on what was happening around her, constantly thinking that every bystander was as likely to attempt mugging her as they were to simply walk on by. Her stress with this situation was becoming unbearable, and just moments ago someone had brushed against her as they passed her in the crowded street, causing her to jump straight into another passerby, resulting in an awkward apology. No, she had to make her way out of this mess and into a less trafficked part of the city, if there even was such a thing. She had to collect her thoughts and think about a better way to tackle this problem.

Seeing a slightly less trafficked path on the other side of an alley, she went for it, bumping into more people as she made her way through the crowd and mouthing apologies in Basitin all the way. Finally making her way into the alley, and walking through it at a brisk pace, ignoring a sleeping man reeking of cheap booze, she found herself in a much less crowded street. Feeling a strong salty breeze from one end of the street that made her cloak flap about her, she was fairly certain that she was nearing the harbor, a thought later reinforced by the cries of seagulls from somewhere in her vicinity. Her stress dissipating somewhat, she looked up and down the street she was currently in, thinking about her next course of action.
 

Meta_Trooper

New member
Mar 6, 2010
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The market was quite busy when Matthew arrived, over a sea of customers you could barely see and of the stalls let alone the merchants who ran them, he pushed his way through the crowds, glancing at each merchant as he passed, it didn't take long to find the man he was looking for, the one stall that had a small group of men loitering nearby, always eyeing those that came close, the merchant there was a rather short human man, though what he lacked in height he more than made up for in expensive clothing, he wore the type of clothes you'd see on a lord and had no doubts about showing it off, the items on sale were quite rare and in perfect condition, the sort of thing you wouldn't be able to find on a common merchant.

As Matthew approached the man the group nearby stared at him and only him, from the looks of them they were armed, though not very well composed, under the cloaks they wore he could see that they were mostly wearing leather armour, though some did have metal chest plates, it would seem their boss had a decent supply of arms for his bodyguards, he looked around at the items on the stall for a moment, catching the interest of his soon to be employer.

"good day sir, what might I get you today, one of these trinkets perhaps? or are you more interested in the merchandise with more risk?" the man smiled, Matthew didn't look up, lifting an amulet for a closer look, it was a worthless fake but well made, not many would notice and in this part of town it'd be unlikely that he'd be found out as a swindler, Matthew put the amulet back where it was and looked up.

"I believe you might have some work for me, I don't care for what kind, as long as you can pay, as you can see, I'm quite capable of dealing with 'problems'" Matthew could already tell the dealer would be interested from ho on edge his guards were, they were expecting something they didn't like, which meant there was a problem they weren't capable of dealing with, the man's smile grew.

"I might just have what you're looking for, please, let's discuss this away from the crowds, you never know when someone might be listening." he led Matthew behind the stall and through a door behind, nodding to a man sitting nearby who stood up and took over for him, Matthew found himself a rather large room with a number of crates and barrels lying at the sides, in the middle was a table with a few chairs and some paperwork, the man sat down opposite Matthew. "have a seat, we've got a lot of things to discuss before we get to your job."
 

Sam G

New member
Jul 14, 2009
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"Ladies and gentlemen... thank you... for allowing us... to entertain you tonight," Jae called out into the tavern.

He was greeted with a number of looks from the tavern's patrons: The most common two were looks of irritation that this performer had interrupted their important conversations, rather than simply playing quietly in the background like he was supposed to; and looks of mild bemusement as to why this boy with a lute was referring to himself as a "we" when he was the only one on the stage. There was also a single girl sitting at the bar, screaming - as she did every night - that she loved Jae and wished for him to impregnate her, but Jae didn't notice any of these people; he had his eyes on his instrument, and was already completely focused on strumming out a sick-wicked bassline that went like this: doo doo doo doo doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo...

After a couple of sick-wicked basslines, Jae allowed himself to go onto auto-pilot and let his focus drift around the rest of the tavern. There didn't seem to be too much happening tonight, so Jae leaned forward and really forced himself into the wickedest ill-sexy strummination he could muster when out of nowhere a wet towel somebody had flung hit him in the face and his focus was broken.

"Knock it off, dumbass! People're tryin' to think in here!" the bartender yelled. Jae sighed and wiped the dirty water off his face with his shirt. Some people simply couldn't appreciate the connection between a man and his instrument; when a man got his strum on, you couldn't simply interrupt him! That could give him a brain-relapse or something! It's like taking a spirit-channeler and shaking them violently when they're in the middle of doing their do!

Jae was about to explain this to the elderly pleb, but then he started shouting and pointing at things and Jae found it incredibly hard to get a word in edgeways. "If you wanna put yourself to some use, get out into the city and attract me some customers! For christ's sake, whatever you do just stop givin' my customers headaches! You're gonna scare 'em away, idiot!"

Jae sighed, then straightened up and saluted his boss. The man was like a father to him - he'd given him a home, a job and even occasional lute maintenance, which was more than a useless teenager like Jae could realistically ask for - and though he frequently noticed that he was right and the old man was wrong, he'd never dream of saying so. The boss's beck was Jae's command.

Waving to his adoring fans as he went and ducking to avoid the occasional thrown plate of food, Jae made his way to the door. Before he could step outside, though, the old man stepped in front of him and held out his hand. "Gimme the lute, Jae."

"What? But boss, I was gonna score you some punters! You know, playin' on a street-corner, singin' tales of a tavern where the booze is so fine the first drop knocks you off your feet, the service is quicker than a Bastian sprinter an' the musical accompaniment's borderline orgasmic-"

"Kid, didn't I specifically say I don't want you scarin' people off? You're a son to me, I respect any wishes you may have for your future and support them fully, but... you are a terrible, terrible musician. Gimme the lute, Jae."

And so it was with the boss's words still ringing in his ears that Jae stepped out onto the street. He felt a little numb after hearing that, so decided - as he surely had done many hundreds of times before - to block the criticism out of his memory entirely and forget the conversation had even happened.

Once into the city, Jae scanned around for prospective customers and immediately spied a fairly fine light-brown keidran girl. The boss wasn't overly fond of her type, but as Jae saw it, a customer was a customer, so even if he didn't hold the door open for her the boss wasn't gonna turn her away without feeding her. Also, there weren't many other people about, so if Jae wanted to fill his people-quota and be allowed back inside quickly he couldn't be choosy.

"Hey there, madam! You look like you could do with a place to sleep, or eat, or listen to an incredible aspiring musician or something! If you are, in fact, interested in any of those things, I could do no better than to direct you to the Old Mill, down this road! I mean, it probably seems as though I'm only saying these things 'cause I'm under the employ of the guy running the place, but it's actually a really nice place! Seriously!"

Jae tried to whip out his lute and regail the wolfy woman with a ballad about how great his adoptive dad's pub was, but realized he wasn't carrying his lute with him. How odd; he must've put it down somewhere.
 

Baldrek

Elite Member
Jun 26, 2008
2,031
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41
Country
Norway
"Hey there, madam!"

Katja heard someone shout in her direction, she immediately thought it had been intended for someone else, but after a quick look around found that she was the only one who could be addressed as 'Madam' in the near vicinity. As such she turned in the direction where the voice was coming from to hear what he had to say, pulling her cloak around herself to keep it from flapping about in the wind so much.

"You look like you could do with a place to sleep, or eat, or listen to an incredible aspiring musician or something! If you are, in fact, interested in any of those things, I could do no better than to direct you to the Old Mill, down this road! I mean, it probably seems as though I'm only saying these things 'cause I'm under the employ of the guy running the place, but it's actually a really nice place! Seriously!"

The one delivering the message seemed to be a boy in his late teens from what Katja could see, apparently working as a crier for a local establishment. The majority of his message seemed to be inconsequential babble, but he was correct in assessing her as one in need of a place to stay, and she didn't particularly cherish the thought of going back into the crowded streets to look for another inn when there was one right here. Still grasping the cloak around her to shield her from the salty wind she approached closer to the boy and the side street he was standing at.

"I do need somewhere to sleep for the night, so I will take you up on your recommendation." She told him as she locked her eyes on his, standing about five feet from him as she spoke. Keeping her gaze on him for a moment, her expression didn't change, even though she was unsure if she should say something else as well. In the end, she merely broke eye contact with Jae and walked past him, heading to the place known as the 'Old Mill', where she knocked twice on the door before entering and walking up to the counter, trying to ignore the other patrons to the best of her abilities.

"I need lodgings for a few days, do you have any vacancies?" She asked the person behind the counter, who she assumed was the owner of the place. It was a fairly blunt question, with no introduction or pleasantries, almost to the point of it being rude, but that didn't seem to bother her at all.
 

Sam G

New member
Jul 14, 2009
2,580
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0
"Hm?" The barkeep looked up from the glass he was polishing and spotted that this new potential customer was a Keidran woman. "Ah... yes, we do."

"Got us a customer, old man!" Jae declared cheerfully, strolling in through the door behind Katja.

"That you did, son..." the old man said, nodding. "Why don't you, uh, go out and find me some more, eh? You useless lout," he added, to make the sentiment seem more natural and disguise how uneasy the situation was making him feel.

Jae nodded cheerfully and headed back out onto the street. With him gone, the barkeep returned his attention to Katja. "Uh..." He rubbed his head and looked at the ground, an awkward look on his face. It shouldn't be this difficult in this day and age, but he still wasn't fully accustomed to the new-fangled ways of today, and he wasn't really sure how to deal with Keidran. He didn't have anything against them; they were just different. A different stock to most of the types he usually served.

"You'll be wantin' a room, then? Going rates're fairly cheap, so you can pay me in the morning; I dunno if any of our rooms're really suited to cater to your special needs, though... I mean, do you have any special needs? I'm not really used to dealing with your, uh... with your lot..." The old man rubbed his head and looked away again. Why did I send Jae away? He was better at dealing with things like this than the old barkeep was...
 

RBMidknight

Elite Member
Nov 27, 2009
5,022
0
41
Jarrod made his way into the crowded street and walked in the direction that most of the people were going. Since he was still uncertain of his goal he kept his eye on the buildings nearby. But after several minutes of not being able to see the signs due to people being in the way Jarrod decided to leave the street.

"[Excuse me.]" he said to no one in particular as he began to move against the flow of traffic. He raised his arm and stepped around two rapidly conversing human females. Neither seemed to pay him much attention. "Excuse me." he said again, putting a tad bit more force into his weaving between people. After the second request a few crowd members reluctantly shifted and allowed Jarrod to pass by. He reached the edge of the street with little difficulty.

Beneath the overhanging roof of a shop Jarrod paused to consider his next move. He needed information. And he would need a place to stay, eventually. Jarrod looked up at the sign for the building he was in front of. Weaver. '[Not quite what I'm looking for.]' The next building belonged to a leather-worker, and the next to a shoemaker. A whole shop for shoes and shoes alone. Jarrod paused outside of the building, just to the left of the main window of the shop. He peered inside and saw a stooped old man assisting a young boy with what must have been new shoes. Jarrod looked down at his own feet and gave a short laugh. Shoes were one thing he never had to worry about.

After passing a few more buildings Jarrod found a sign that had potential. Library, it stated. It was an old wood sign, hanging above an equally old and worn wooden door. The building itself was easily the size of the other shops Jarrod had already passed. '[That could work.]' he decided. Libraries had books. And books had information.

But Jarrod quickly learned that he didn't have enough details about his homeland to find it easily in any of the books that he could read. Jarrod set his latest attempt back on its proper shelf with a disappointed sigh. The shelves were close enough together that Jarrod had to be careful not to knock any of the books over with his tail as he made his way back through the aisle.

Seeing a middle-aged man behind the front desk Jarrod approached the counter. He explained to the man, who put down the book he was reading when Jarrod approached, that he needed to find someone from a town or city that he wasn't sure the name of. And he needed assistance. The slightly balding man was silent for a moment. He tapped the book he'd been reading on the counter as he peered at Jarrod carefully. He swept his gaze up and down taking in Jarrod's attire. Finally the man spoke.

"We have maps and guides for almost all the major cities." There was a hint of pride in the man's deep voice, "A few towns as well." he continued. "But you'll need to know the name of a place before they can be of much use. If you know this person's name you could try the census. But only officials have access to those."

"Oh." Jarrod frowned. He had hoped for better news. But the information was a bit helpful. "Thank you." he nodded to the man and stepped away from the counter. There were a few chairs near the entrance of the library just to the right of the large front window. Jarrod chose one to sit down in.

Perhaps he could use a process of elimination? Read all of the guides available...'[That would take a long time.]' And it didn't sound like very many towns had guides. He needed another way. Jarrod looked down at the floor. '[If only I could remember more...]'

"An investigator."

'[What?]'

"What?" Jarrod looked up to see elderly woman standing next to his chair. No more than five feet tall, dressed in plain clothing the woman had a book in one hand and an amused expression on her face.

"You need an investigator" the old woman insisted. Disregarding Jarrod's wary glance she casually sat down in the next chair. As she situated herself Jarrod noticed a pair of metal-rimmed glasses tied around her neck. When the woman was comfortable she spoke again. "You're looking for someone, right?" Jarrod started to answer but the woman kept going. "Then you either need to check the census like Mark said which means you have to know the right sort of people." The woman gave a dismissive wave. "Or, you need to hire an investigator. A proper one, mind. For enough silver or gold an investigator can find just about anything." The woman smiled brightly seeming to be a bit pleased with herself.

Jarrod waited a moment to see if the lady was going to depart after this bit of unexpected advice. But she continued to sit and seemed to be waiting for a reply. Jarrod sighed inwardly and gave the strange woman's theory some thought. He had heard of investigators. But he'd never actually met one. Perhaps it was a common profession in this city? Jarrod debated asking how this woman knew what he needed. But he had another question, first.

"Did you lose something?" Jarrod asked. She seemed rather certain of these investigators.

"Yes, yes I did." The woman set her book on the edge of the seat and used both hands to hold up her glasses. The light streaming in from the window reflected briefly off of the polished glass lenses.

"You lost...your glasses?" Jarrod asked slowly. It wasn't the response he was expecting. He felt somewhat disappointed. '[It sounded good, for a moment.]'

Some of his skepticism must have come through in his voice, because the woman gave a dignified huff. "These are one-of-a-kind. And I can't work without them." She waved her hand in the air again. "People. Places. Things. Even information. It's all the same. Investigators find things. And they're really good at finding things that are lost." Jarrod winced slightly. But the woman didn't notice. She breezed right into her next topic. "Now, the nice man I hired left town last month. It's a pity, but he had some troubles with his last job, or so I hear. But there should be other investigators about. Just ask one of the innkeepers or barkeeps. They always keep tabs on people. You'll be sure to find someone." The woman patted the arm of Jarrod's chair in a friendly manner. Then, as quickly as she had appeared, the woman rose from her seat and walked away.

'[What an odd lady.]' Jarrod shook his head. "Thank you." he called belatedly. Some nearby patrons quickly gestured for him to be quiet. Jarrod sighed audibly. There wasn't much left for him to do. He quietly made his way to the door and stepped outside. As he closed the door behind him Jarrod noticed the woman who'd spoken to him was now behind the front counter. '[She works here.]' he realized. That explained a few things.

So, if the librarian was to be believed..."[I need an investigator]" Jarrod said to himself. The words sounded a bit odd. He leaned against the side of the building and looked out at the crowd.
 

Blasphemous Rex

Better Than You
Jul 26, 2009
6,494
0
0
The Black Bluebird. A bar practically designed to get its customers to fight each other. The music was aggressive, loud and terrible; the drinks were disgusting, expensive and overly alcoholic; and sometimes the bartender would tell you the guy across the bar insulted your mother. Owen loved this place. It was hard to find - as hard to find as any place can be in a city - hidden in a back alley so deep that only a genius could find it if he didn't know where to look, and aside from near completely intentional murder, enough money could convince the owner or any guard to let you alone.

Owen came here to fight people - pure and simple. Pretty much anyone who went to the Black Bluebird came to fight someone. If you left without at least a black eye they wouldn't let you back. Owen never had that problem. He got in more fights at this bar in a single week than in all the other bars he had been in combined before finding this place. All the regulars knew Owen had two shots, one drink, and then fought. First he would punch the first person he hadn't (remembered he had) punched before, then he would fight any guards, and by then everyone was in on it. The place was rowdy, and to the regulars they couldn't think of any place they would rather be.

Owen was greeted with a roar from the crowd as he shoved open the door. His drinks were ready before he sat down. It was going to be a fun night. Assuming he could drink slow enough to last to the night.
 

Lambi

Yuki-Onna
Oct 20, 2009
30,217
0
0
Arryn had walked so much by now that she was starting to sweat through her fur. [Oh, darn it! If I don't find something to bathe in soon, I am taking my clothes off and jumping into the nearest source of water I can find!] She wasn't used to being exposed to this kind of heat for so long. She flapped her shirt to cool off a bit, but it wasn't enough.

She walked by a wolf Keidran and heard him say something about an investigator. She stopped and looked towards him. She was very curious, sometimes too much for her own good. She walked over to him. "[Uhm, excuse me, but what do you need an investigator for?]" She didn't even know what an investigator was, to be honest, but it didn't stop her from asking.
 

RBMidknight

Elite Member
Nov 27, 2009
5,022
0
41
"[Uhm, excuse me, but what do you need an investigator for?]"

In the midst of his musing Jarrod was surprised by a question that seemed to come out of nowhere. He pushed off from the side of the building and turned to locate the source of the voice. For a moment he looked curiously at the tiger Keidran who had stopped nearby. "[Hello.]" he offered. The newcomer wore an outfit made entirely of green cloth. And she was entirely unfamiliar. Another traveler, perhaps? Or a citizen? Jarrod's left ear twitched slightly.

"[I'm looking for someone.]" he admitted once he was done with his quick inspection. '[That's safe enough.]' he decided. Keeping his tone casual he continued on. "[My name's Jarrod.]" he said, hoping to steer the potential conversation to a more neutral point.
 

Lambi

Yuki-Onna
Oct 20, 2009
30,217
0
0
"[I'm Arryn! Nice to meet you.]" she said with a wide, sort of silly smile. Her tail swished from side to side. "[I don't mean to sound too curious, but who are you looking for and why?]" She would like to help this Keidran if she could, though she wasn't sure how. She knew she had a good nose, but amongst all these people in the city, she might not be able to find them.

She looked over the wolf Keidran. [Kinda cute. But I'm sure he isn't looking for someone like that. I'll try and help him if I can.] She mentally nodded to herself, and kept looking at Jarrod, waiting for his answer.