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[Araph]

Path to Power

"Behind every legend is a man who was willing to do what was necessary."
                                                          - Ragnac Sarinal, Bard of the Ebony Crescent

Every living being dreams of something more. Of being someone great, whether that comes from dominion, knowledge, love, or honor. Wherever you're from, whatever your walk of life, you have the potential for greatness.

The only thing limiting you is how much you would sacrifice for it.

Spoiler: Gameplay (click to show/hide)

Path to Power is a multiplayer RPG. Each player makes and submits a character, and, if their character is approved, they start off in a reasonable spot in the game world.

Characters have simple skill levels. Rolls will be done by the GM privately, adding the character's skill level in the relevant skill to a d6, along with any necessary modifiers.

This game is RP heavy. Character can talk amongst themselves if they're together, but major actions (travelling long distances, raising armies, negotiating truces, combat, etc.) must be narrated by a GM. OOC discussion must be restricted to the OOC thread, along with character applications.


Characters can do anything that would be in-character and reasonable for them. A warlord might try to conquer somewhere, a scholar might research ancient ruins, a diplomat might negotiate alliances; however, if a humble alchemist attempts to raise an army, they'd better have a really good way to justify that action.

Spoiler: Characters (click to show/hide)

Description and Backstory:
All characters must have a realistic (within the constraints of the game world) backstory. While it doesn't have to be a work of art that would bring Tycho to his knees in awe, it does have to be grammatically correct and have as few spelling errors as possible. Similarly, the description cannot be of an attractive, heroic loner who's misunderstood and bring bad guys to justice and is just the best at everything. The closer a character comes to Mary Sue status, the better the writing has to be to compensate (overly Sueish characters will be rejected on the spot, however good the writing may be).

Skills:
Characters start with one of the following:

• Two major skills (level 3).
• One major skill, one moderate skill, and one minor skill (levels 1, 2, and 3).
• One major skill and three minor skills (levels 3 and 1).
• Two moderate skills and two minor skills (levels 2 and 1).
• Eight minor skills (level 1).

In addition, they begin with basic equipment. If it's justified by your backstory, you'll most likely be able to have it.

Note: For the time being, money will be kept abstract.

Character Submission Format:

Name: Araph

Skills: Programming 3, Animating 1, Music 1

Equipment

• Computer
• Graphics Tablet
• Guitar

Description
Araph has brown hair, blue eyes, and is fairly athletic. He uses big words even when they're unnecessary and sometimes makes an idiot of himself.

Backstory
After his previous suggestion adventure flopped, Araph decided to involve the players more by starting 'Path to Power'.

Location Vote: Laenaren

Spoiler: Setting (click to show/hide)

Path to Power is set in The Worldbuild Project-verse. Don't worry, there isn't that much information there you need to take in. As you play the game, however, the world will begin to take a more defined shape. Because of this, feel free to propose additions to support your character's concept. The Project is open to additions from anyone.

As it stands now, there are a few major nations:

• The Acasic Empire
• Rhael
• Laenaren
• Hebbek
• Vilerii
• Selahren

Characters can come from any of these or new ones you created. Make sure, however, that characters fit with the already established culture of their native land.

The game takes place directly after the deposition of Verek kel Aldeos of the Acasi Empire. As for the location, submit your vote with your character sheet.

A Note on Magic: Magic is ill-defined. The Rohomajeshi have a spirit-based shamanistic magic, but other forms of it are still up in the air.

Link to OOC Thread

Player List

• kj1225 :: Kyle Johnson
• flameboy99 :: Aerzekar Mui
• Criptfeind :: Streic
• vastaghen12 :: Onell
• sjm9876 :: Arsc Verdason
• IamanElfCollaborator :: Pollux Armiksen
  

[/li][li]All spots are currently filled.[/li]
[/list]

[Araph]

Spoiler: Kyle Johnson (click to show/hide)

Name: Kyle Johnson

Skills: Free Running 3, Pick pocketing 2, Brawling 1.

Equipment
Hooded cloak

Description
Kyle has brown hair, blue eyes, and is fairly athletic. He has stubble on his face and no mustache. His hair is in a messy style and goes down to his shoulders. He likes to steal for pleasure and profit. Or for poor people.

Backstory
Kyle lives in Naros trying to make a living of the purses of the merchants who live there. He is very capable of running and has a history of giving half his gains to the poor. He was born in Naros and lived there all his life. He first started stealing from the rich and giving to the poor when a homeless woman caught his eye when he was going home with his haul that day. He didn't know what else to do so he gave her a couple coins, then he spotted some other homeless people nearby and wanting to be fair gave them some money as well. By the end of the day he had about half his earnings left and good feeling in his heart. It's been a ritual to him to give the poor and needy money at the end of the day ever since. He isn't known by anyone except his family and some beggars he has befriended.

Spoiler: Aerzekar Mui (click to show/hide)

Name: Aerzekar Mui

Skills: Swordplay 3, Archery 2, Improvised Weapons 1, Stealth 1

Equipment

    Rapier, known as the Life Drinker
    Dagger
    Bow
    Quiver with 15 arrows


Description
Aerzekar has short, brown hair, a small amount of stubble, a wiry build, and striking green eyes. He has no typical clothes, and changes into whatever will benefit him the most at the time.
Backstory
Aerzekar used to be an apprentice warrior under a small group of bandits. He was an equal match to his master back then, and has grown in power since. Eventually, he had learned all there was to learn from his master, and he set off on his own in order to learn further. He had killed a great many foes, and became a renowned warrior in some lands, and infamous in others. He was known by many names: The Black Paladin, The Night Thief, The Devil's Assasain, and many others. Finally, he had come to find Zamaakil, and found it to his liking. He began to settle down, raise a family, and gradually, lay down his blade. His exploits faded to urban legend, as did his skills and history. He lived a happy life for many years, having a happy wife and raising two children. One day, he came back from his work as a trader to find that his family had been murdered, done at the hand of a well known criminal. He swore on their life to avenge them, and as his age ascended into midlife, he began to resharpen both his blade and his prowess, fighting against roaming monsters and bandits, any who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time or that he deemed deserved death, though many would not agree with these decisions. Soon, he tracked down the killer, and slew him and his accomplices quickly. However, it was not enough for him. He continued to roam the landscape, once more taking up the mantle of the Black Paladin, his favorite alias. Slaying many far and wide, most would consider him evil. He has since returned to Zamaakil, and has since become infamous in most civilized places. His blade is often considered to be an artifact, a being in and of itself, though this is not true. However, he has often found it to be a good intimidation tactic.

Spoiler: Streic (click to show/hide)

Name: Streic

Skills: Swordfighting 3, Stealth 2, Animal handling 1, Riding 1, Survival 1

Equipment

• Greatsword
• Dagger
• Leather Armor
• Short bow and arrows
• Horse
• Travel rations and equipment
• Some amount of local currency

Description
Streic has brown eyes and short cut brown hair. He has a olive complexion and he stands at a little over six feet tall and. He is wearing a suit of leather armor and has a well cared for Greatsword strapped to his back. He tends to have a frown on his face, especially when meeting new people. He has a strong believe in personal power and believes that the strong in the world have a right to rule over the weak, and the weak have a right to bow to the strong or to die. Despite that, he is a strong believer in freewill and self determination and feels that people should at least be able to attempt to be strong. He sometimes takes enjoyment from killing, but lately has been questioning the morality of it, especially with the death of someone who, well not exactly was a friend, was at least the closest he has ever had. Certainly killing the totally helpless without at least giving them some other option is against his moral code.

Backstory
Summary
Born in Selahrin. He was enslaved at a young age. As a slave he worked varying jobs, including being a stable boy. Eventually he became a gladiator. He did okay at being a gladiator and eventually made 'friends' with a young noble man who ended up purchasing him. The noble man eventually went a trip with Streic to establish a merchant caravan, and Streic was going to try to escape during the trip. Early in the trip they were attacked by bandits and the nobleman wanted to turn around. Panicking that his freedom would never come about Streic killed him and the remains of the caravan. He then fled and is now trying to make his way in the world as a free man.

Full Backstory
Streic was born in Selahrin to a small warrior tribe on the northern coast. When he was quite young a much larger and stronger tribe expanded into the area and came into conflict with his tribe, the larger tribe gave a ultimatum to his tribe. They would surrender the rights to their lands and serve tribute onto the larger tribe and their children would be raised as members of the larger tribe, or the larger tribe would declare war and forcibly take their lands. Streics tribe responded by killing the messenger and declared that their honor demanded that they not agree to such a thing. The larger tribe Annihilated Streics tribe in battle with ease, most of his family was killed and he and the remainders were sold to slavers.

Streic and the remains of his family were transported across the Taveric sea to Hebbek, where eventually he was sold as part of a pack along with several other tribe members to a wealthy merchant family, where he was forced to work first as a general helper, and then eventually as a assistant stable boy. Around the age of 15 though the merchant family decided to resell him, he worked for a time as a manual laborer, but eventually found himself sold to a gladiatorial arena. After a light amount of training he was sent to the pit to fight for his life and the amusement of others. A bit to his surprise he found he was almost a natural with a sword, the hard labors of his youth and training, and perhaps distant memories of watching the warriors of his old tribe fight had produced in him a semi capable fighter. That said, he was not really a match for the veteran warrior he was matched against, and after a bit of a show he the older warrior put him down painfully, he was deemed entertaining enough to live by the crowd though, after a relatively short convalescence time he went back to the arena with no permanent effects other then a few scars. After surviving for several months and gaining a few more scars and a lot more skills he eventually managed to gain a small amount of notoriety for himself as a skillful, if somewhat brutal, fighter who learned how to play up to the crowd, particularly the nobles who sometimes watched from reserved seats.

In the spring of his 17th year he gained what was to be a important 'friend' in his life. A younger son of a important noble family, Hadar Asusher. This younger noble was heavily sheltered in life, and was frankly a bit foolish and sometimes foppish. He enjoyed sneaking out of his house to watch the Gladiatorial battles and he quickly became a fan of Streics persona as a fighter. Eventually Hadar bribed his way into the slave pits to see a few of his favorite fighters, Streic included. When Streic recognized the young noble as someone who often intensely watched him or often even cheered for him he realized this was his chance to escape the pits. Motioning Hadar over in a spare moment when no one else was paying attention Streic managed to talk with the young noble. Flattering him and impressing him with inflated tales of his life Streic managed to leave the impression of a honorable if slightly unintelligent savage who lived a unjust but amazing life in the mind of the young nobleman.

Springing from this a acquaintanceship between the two of them slowly grew in secret, with Hadar bribing his way into the pits to talk to Streic. After a few months of this Hadar with the encouragement of Streic managed to convinced his parents, who were at this point unaware of his actions, that he was growing up and needed to be coddled less and given more responsibility, eventually he left their house and set up his own fairly modest (for a noble) home. Which he stocked with a few slaves, some hired freemen, and Streic, who he managed to buy from the arena for a quite frankly too large amount of money. From here Streic managed to deepen his relationship with Hadar even more. As he gained more and more of his confidence a plan formed in his mind. Talking with Hadar reveled that he was generally unhappy with his lot as a younger son, no where close to getting a large inheritance and likely having to live off of his (in his eye small, which was hilarious to a man who owned absolutely nothing like Streic) allowance for quite a bit longer. Streic convinced him that he should be investing his money instead of bemoaning his station in life, and eventually together they came up with a plan to fund a merchant caravan that would carry luxury goods across the mountains and into Nahkarvan, spinning tales of the adventures they might have Streic convinced Hadar it would even be a grand idea to go with the caravan on it's first run though. Hadars parents would be dead set against it of course, but the first they heard of the plan was a letter Hadar sent to them after leaving the city, and they had no chance to stop him or argue him out of it. And so Streic left Hebbek along with Hadar, some guards, a few slaves, and a small merchant caravan. In his mind Streic envisioned that once they made it to the friendlier and less deadly Nahkarvan he would be able to break away from the caravan and make his escape, freeing himself from his long slavery. By the time word of his escape made it back to Hebbek he would be far to long gone for any hope of catching him to remain.

At first the trip went well, it made it out of Hebbek fine, and it was about a fourth of the way over the mountains when tragedy stuck. A group of mountain bandits, fairly desperate from a lean winter, attacked the caravan on mass at the break of dawn. Heavily outnumbered, almost everyone in the caravan went to help with the defense, with the only exceptions being Hadar and two slaves, who hid in his tent. Although lacking in numbers, the guards were better equip, better trained, and in better health. Both sides took heavy casualties. Most of the bandits were in the end cut down or ran away, and the only person from the Caravan who escaped heavy injury was Streic himself. As soon as the last Bandit turned and fled Streic rushed to Hadars tent, he found Hadar shocked by the events, and as soon as he became sensible he said that he intended to turn around and return to Hebbek as soon as possible. Hadar cried out in repentance for being a wayward son and promised himself that he would never again disobey his parents. Streics blood ran cold as he realized his hopes for freedom were being dashed. If he tried to run now it would only be a few days before the news would reach civilization, and he would have to move slowly on foot. It was highly likely he would be caught. Additionally, if he didn't run, it was undoubted that such a chance would be unlikely to come again, Hadar might even move back in with his parents, and they would eventually manage to piece together the new found agency in their son came from this slave, and if that happened at best they would resell him to some dangerous place like the arena again.

Streic realized that there was only one path open to him. He knelt next to Hadar and put his hand in his shoulder. Then ran his blade though the neck of his once master and almost friend. Hadar didn't utter a sound as he died. Only a slight air of confusion. Turning to the other two slaves. Streic left the tent and went among the wounded, most of they were tending to their wounds and in poor shape to fight. They stood no chance and he cut them down. Streic then turned to the slaves who watched in shock. Not willing to leave any possible witnesses he ran them though. At the end of the blood bath he stood alone in the carnage of his slaughter and the bandit attack. If luck was with him anyone who found the scene would assume the bandits had done the whole thing. After all, what was one slave more or less? And very few people knew that Hadar had a favored personal slave.

To complete the deception Streic tied together all the horses he could handle and loaded him down with all the goods they would carry. He then headed to the North though the mountains. After a few weeks of travel he found himself in Vilerii. He buried the more expensive goods he carried and let all the horses but one go free, keeping a sturdy surefooted mare. He made his way to larger city and managed to sell off the less expensive goods he stole from the caravan for what was likely way bellow it's market value but to a escaped slave was a fairly enormous amount. With this money he purchased a new set of clothing and travel supplies. Then he set off. Making his way in the world, partly by living off the money he got for selling the stolen goods, and partly by thievery. For a while he was confused with what to do with his new found freedom, but he eventually came to the conclusion that he would simply have to go on living. But also importantly, he decided to himself that he would hone his fighting skills and strength and become powerful enough that his safety and freedom would not come under threat again. In the meantime though, fearing that somehow he would be caught, he turned to the north. He made his way to the great ports of Vilerii and booked passage across the Strait to the Acasi Empire, far past the reach of any Hebbek slave catcher. He eventually found his way to Naros, where our story begins.

Spoiler: Onell (click to show/hide)

Name: Onell of the Daros Mountains

Skills:
Light mage 3 (the manipulation of direct sunlight for several things, like: blinding, causing sunburns), Lucky survivor 2, Inventive (bonus to crafting things) 1

Equipment:
Makeshift oak staff (the original was stolen from him)
10 Blank scrolls

Description
Onell has shoulder lenght brown hair, hazel eyes, thick eyebrowns and an average build. He feels a stronge urge to do what he considers morally right and truly believes that there is goodness to be found inside everyone. He is an ardent worshipper of the gods of light and the sun.

Backstory
Onell is a member of a small monastery high in the Daros mountains. It was there, where he was schooled in the art of light manipulation since young age, as the elders saw great potential in him. Even as a child, Onell was deeply interested in the world outside the walls of the monastery; to the point of spending whole days observing the villages and  green valleys of Laeranel through the monastery telescope, happily imagining how the life of people so far away could be, and wondering of what  kind of lands laid beyond the horizon.

Onell has never known this outside world until a few weeks ago, when he was given the choice to go in a pilgrimage to The Great Temple of Naros in order to retrieve a piece of  bark from the tree of providence. Even while knowing the dangers of this relatively  short journey, he accepted the offer without second thoughts, hoping that if he was successful he will be named the new knowledge gatherer of the order. A position that will allow him to fulfill his dreams of traveling and getting to know this unknown world.

Unluckily Onell was robbed a few days after visiting his first village (perhaps announcing his intentions and destination to the villagers in the plaza was not a very brilliant idea after all). Still, he is determined to continue his journey, firmly believing that his actions are following the path the gods intended and that everything will end well.

Spoiler: Arsc Verdason (click to show/hide)

Name: Arsc Verdason

Skills: improvisation 3 (the ability to use things in ways they are not intended for. ie, a chair leg as a weapon.)
   survival 2
   alchemy 1
        perception 1

Description: Arsc is a well built young man, more by use than nature. He has long untamed black hair, under which are deep set grey eyes. He has a beard, and a scar runs down his cheek. He dresses untidily, and tends to come across as rough and abrupt. He is incredibly loyal, although his loyalty is itself difficult to earn.

Backstory: Arsc was raised on the outskirts of the Verdash swamps, the son of an eccentric alchemist. He spent his youth playing in the marshes, growing older in the harsh environment, and he showed a particular flair for spontaneous invention.
 One day, in a walk in the swamps, a Bloodworm ambushed him, one of it's mandibles piercing his cheek. Taking a nearby bone, from the worm's past prey, he thrust it into the creature, causing it to release him. however, having seen in the past the effects of the creatures larvae on their hosts, he left his fathers home to the nearest town.
 Here he spent most of the money he had having the eggs removed, only to find he enjoyed the city too much to return.
 Since that day he wandered from town to town, doing odd jobs only to raise the money to move on to the next. He lived off the land as often as from what he bought, and when he couldn't make ends meet, he stole to get by. Eventually he was resting in a large city, looking for work in the markets, when he came upon a stall dressed with dried herbs and fungi. Behind the counter sat a wizened old woman, around her neck a simple amulet, a hemisphere, in the plane of which was engraved a strange symbol. His hand went to his own neck, where there hung it's inverse, given to him by his father. then he stopped for a moment and thought, why would someone so close be a stranger? And he could think of no good reason.
 The next day, he returned to the markets, mind changed, and needing to satisfy his curiosity. However, as he arrived he saw smoke rising from it's centre. He pushed against the tide of people, spicy smoke burning his lungs. Sight swimming, he reached the blaze, only to emerge a moment later carrying the woman's corpse. The top of her dress was ripped open, leaving the top of her ribcage bare and blackened, and lacking any embellishment. No one seemed to know her, so Arsc buried her alone that night, grave marked only by a cairn of stones in the cemetery.
 On that night he pledged to himself to find the killers and the amulet, and to find out who the old woman was, to have such a thing.

Spoiler: Pollux Armiksen (click to show/hide)

Name: Pollux Armiksen

Equipment:
Masonry Hammer
Shortsword
Leather Overalls
Workman's Shirt
Workman's Boots
Workman's Gloves

Skills:
Stonecrafting 3
Repair 2
Smithing 1
Engraving 1
Swordfighting 1

Description: Pollux is a Skalkr: a diminutive, grey-skinned humanoid with horns and glassy eyes. He is bald, except for a long ponytail, kept tidy with ringlets. He is clean shaven. His horns are short, pale white, and thick. His face is clean, generally lacking any scars except for one along the side of his right eye. His eyes are brown. He dresses generally as a workman of the Skalkr, like most of them, and comes off as practical and hardworking. Pollux is a generally jovial person, finding it easy to socialise. When working, he becomes much more focused and concentrates only on his work, often drinking copious amounts of liquor if possible.

Backstory: Pollux is a member of the Skalkran Consortium, a nation beyond the west Tavric Sea. The Consortium is meritocratic, picking only the most talented, intelligent or industrious for any purpose, and, stemming from an invasion by the Luxar, tall, feline-like humanoids from unknown lands, arm their citizens and require training in one weapon. The Skalkr in general are very industrious, often contributing to the economy with one skill at the very least; most Skalkr have two professions and those without a profession are looked down upon.

Pollux was born to a family of middle class masons, in the city of Sarach, a major city of the Skalkr. He was raised in the family business, taking to it like a duck to water, from a young age, when he started helping heft small stones from their storage hut to make into intricate, masterful small crafts, progressing to creating his own by the age of seven.

One day, Pollux discovered that his beloved workbench, gifted to him by an uncle, had broke. Thinking quickly, he repaired the bench and found it sturdy. He began practicing his newfound skill of repairing, alongside his stonecrafting. His parents encouraged his practice, and he became a talented repairman and a mason.

When he was of age, Pollux began to look for work in Sarach. At first, it was fine, but tiring work, but eventually, Pollux got tired of it. He began looking for more ambitious work, going upon his experience, began helping in the construction of several buildings, some of them essential infrastructure, around Sarach. However, he could never shake the feeling that Sarach had gotten too small for him, and soon, he started to look for ways out. He eventually found one, in the form of passenger ships going across the Tavric Sea to establish trade with the natives in the nations beyond.

He boarded one, and now he stands in the city of Rhadia, fifty miles away from Naros, looking around, awaiting a new and unknown future.

[Araph]

Kyle Johnson
You live in the city of Naros. Life is hard, but you make do with the former possessions of the wealthy. Naros, being the capital of the Acasi Empire, has plenty of rich nobles who fail to take the proper safety precautions with their valuables; after you've struck, they quickly lose that naivety.

Tonight's mark is fairly standard: his lordship Ferrus kel Dalen. House Dalen is new money, having risen in stature and wealth during the Acasic Conquest. Emphasis on 'wealth', there; they host lavish parties regularly in their Naros estate, and tonight's is special. The young emperor Jarech is going to be there, which means that House Dalen is going to be in full sycophant mode. With their attention focused on the party, you'll be free to relieve them of some of their precious wealth.

It's around noon right now. The Dalen estate is buzzing with servants preparing for the gala, and you expect to have a few hours to prepare before the first guests start arriving. After that, you anticipate the nobles will be fully distracted by the party around when night falls.

Aerzekar Mui
The air around you is hot, dry, and dusty. Around you are the familiar sounds and sights of Zamaakil; traders hollering about their wares, travelers leading their mounts through the streets, the whitewashed buildings reflecting the sun's harsh glare back at you. Your rapier hangs lightly at your side, ever ready to strike down foes.

You have just returned from a venture out into the Serpent's Path: a canyon through which a minor trade route into Zamaakil passes. Bandits had deemed it an easy place to ambush traders and relieve them of their wares. You disagreed with them strenuously.

Now, you have an open future. You might search for leads on bandit activities, but for now you are idling in your beloved city.

Streic
The rolling motion of the ship on the waves is nothing to you after this long on the Taveric Sea. Sailors follow bellowed orders as the city of Naros comes into view. The squat, sprawling buildlings line the coast, centering on the city's primary port. In the distance, green hills and the faint outline of the Daros mountains are visible, spreading across your view. It's foreign to you, a native of the jungles of Selahrim who had grown to adulthood in the barren deserts of Hebbek.

Free at last.

The ship inches into port, lines being thrown across to secure it to the docks. Sailors climb in the rigging and alter the sails; others leap across to the coarse wooden docks to help tether the ship.

Free at last.

The gangplank is lowered and the few passengers file off, stumbling at the change in balance from on the water to solid land. You make your way to the makeshift bridge and follow the others. Walking slowly down the docks towards the rest of the city, the finality of your actions sinks.

Free at last.

Onell
The monotonous thud of your staff striking the dirt road fills your ears. Birds chirp overhead in the canopy of the oaks as you walk down the path. The cool breeze shifts the trees' branches slightly, dappling the ground with broken sunlight.

You've been walking for days. After being held up by muggers back in the city of Pellan, your trip has taken a turn for the worse. With your supplies lost, you've been forced to rely on the goodwill of the people for sustenance. Not that you're particularly worried; your faith carries you onward. Still, you're disappointed you've failed to reach Laenaren's border yet. But enough of those thoughts. What will happen will happen.

Night is almost here. A small village is ahead, according to the directions you received from a surly wagoner a few hours back. You had thanked him politely and wished him a nice day. He grunted in acknowledgement.

There, you can see the glow of firelight in the distance. Wait. No, that's not firelight. It's too... blue. It winks out as you squint at it. Shaking your head, you continue down the road.

Soon, you see the village in its entirety. Nestled in the oak forest, it sits around a river winding its way down from the mountains to the west. Orange firelight glows warmly through the buildings' windows, and you can see people finishing the day's work. You set off again down towards the settlement.

((Character actions taking place in different parts of the world may not necessarily take place at the same point in time.))

[kj1225]

Kyle starts to go through the alleys of Naros near the estate. The bums and hobos are some of the best informants if you promise gold in return.

[flame99]

Aerzekar started asking around if anyone needed any help with local bandits or monsters.

[vastaghen12]

Onell, hoping to find shelter for the night with the kind hearths of the village priests,  quickens the pace so that he might end today's journey with a well deserved rest among friends. Also, spending the night in the village would be the perfect opportunity to inquire about the possible whereabouts of his ceremonial instruments.

[Criptfeind]

Streic set foot onto the rough road of the port, boots striking the wood planks with a resounding thud. He turned to the side and watched as his horse was unloaded from ship, most of his funds had gone into the transport and feed for her during the voyage. Perhaps it would have been better to try to sell her, but she was branded as belonging to house Asusher, and he certainly didn't want any nosy horse merchant looking into the legality of his ownership over her. Streic shrugged and grabbed her lead, turning into the city.

Perhaps now that he was on the other side of the Taveric Sea he could relax. Maybe. No one would chase a escaped slave this far... Although they might chase a murderer. Perhaps Streic would not relax quite yet.

Streic felt into his money pouch. It was light. Much to light. With only that and a few small coins hidden amongst the rest of his person he knew that he would need be needing to find work. With his skill set he knew that the most lucrative work he had the skills for mercenary or even darker work.

That said, he didn't know how the local countries handed such things. If mercenaries were even allowed to exist outside of professional armies. He would need information, and so he headed deeper into the city.

Search for a place to get information about Acasi and the surrounding countries. A pub or equivalent should do well? Specific information is on the legal status of mercenaries and where a wandering fighter could find opportunities for money making.

[Araph]

Kyle Johnson

Kyle starts to go through the alleys of Naros near the estate. The bums and hobos are some of the best informants if you promise gold in return.

For a small bribe, a beggar near the estate tells you some hearsay about its surroundings. The beggar had heard from a friend who heard from a colleague that a dry well two streets down connected to the Undercity, which then connected to the estate's basement. The Undercity was the result of countless years of construction in Naros; a mismatched tableau of half-collapsed buildings and underground structures, sunken into the earth and built upon by future generations. Abandoned and unused tunnels, the result of everything from mineshafts to smuggling tunnels to public works projects spread throughout the Undercity and connect various locations.

A path into the estate from there could be useful. Thanking the beggar, you casually walk in an unobtrusive loop around your target. You have a few hours before the moment is right to strike.

Aerzekar Mui

Aerzekar started asking around if anyone needed any help with local bandits or monsters.

You mingle in one of Zamaakil's countless bars, searching for leads on your next target. As you eavesdrop on the conversations around you, you survey the locale. At the low tables scattered around the room, groups of friends and companions sit cross-legged, enjoying their company. In one corner, a few old men play Uajin, a game brought to the city by merchants from the far west. Two portly traders near the door laugh at a joke as clouds of smoke billow from their elaborate pipes.

Eventually, your attention is caught by a few men arguing quietly, but fiercely. Gravitating closer to the conversation, you can hear that they're debating whether or not a certain venture is worth the risk; it seems from the context that they're merchants. When it becomes clear that they're worried about criminal activities, you interrupt to inquire about the location of the bandits. Their expressions transition from surprise to irritation to fear as they notice the rapier at your side. Turning back to each other, a flurry of whispers fly back and forth; you think you can make out the phrase 'Black Paladin'. A slight smile touches your face.

After conversing, they turn back to you. With apprehensive looks, they tell you that they're worried about a group of bandits between Zamaakil and the mining settlement of Bahrak to the south-east. You've heard the name before, though you know nothing about the camp itself. You thank them for their time, and they seem visibly relieved when you walk away.

Onell

Onell, hoping to find shelter for the night with the kind hearths of the village priests,  quickens the pace so that he might end today's journey with a well deserved rest among friends. Also, spending the night in the village would be the perfect opportunity to inquire about the possible whereabouts of his ceremonial instruments.

The villagers pay little attention to you (aside from a few glances at the new face in town) as you search for the local church. Pausing to ask a young man where you could find the building, you receive directions to the small, two-room religious center of the town. Thank you, and may the sun always light your path, you say. He looks confused and says it's almost nighttime. You don't think he realizes that you mean that metaphorically.

At the church, you meet the local minister. An elderly man by the name of Telim, he warmly greets you and welcomes you into the church. Asking if you can stay the night, he nods profusely and leads you over to the side of the main room, where a few small cots sit. You talk for some time about the church and the monastery you're from, eventually leading up to questions regarding your ceremonial instruments. He looks saddened by the misfortune that has befallen you, and promises to spread the word that you're still looking for your missing things.

Night falls, and you sleep soundly in the comfortable cot laid out for you.

Well. Mostly soundly.

A light seems to be shining in your eyes, and a faint voice calls out to you.

"Onell..."

You wake suddenly. It's still dark outside, as you can tell from the lack of light filtering through the shuttered windows of the church. You feel uneasy.

Streic

Search for a place to get information about Acasi and the surrounding countries. A pub or equivalent should do well? Specific information is on the legal status of mercenaries and where a wandering fighter could find opportunities for money making.

You enter the Siren's Call, a run-down tavern near the docks. The name could not be more misleading. Sailors and dock-hands make up the majority of the bar's patrons. Raucous laughter and crude speech fill the air around you, but the tavern should suit your needs.

Seating yourself at the bar, you listen in on conversations and wait for a good opportunity. After some time, you hear a promising conversation between two armed men regarding work that is, most likely, on the far side of the law. Giving it a bit more time, you hear them also speak of the Acasic military. They could prove helpful with regards to information on jobs. You approach them and attempt to integrate yourself into the conversation.

One of them, a burly fellow with a crooked nose, seems amiable enough. You think the nose must have been broken sometime in the past. The other, a thinner man with burns scars on his hands and normal scars on his face, seems less than pleased at a foreigner entering the conversation. Can't be helped, you suppose. Not that you particularly care whether or not he likes your presence.

Inquiring about both the freelance work they do and the military experience in their pasts, you fish for information on jobs. The musclebound man is happy to talk, but is stopped by his smaller compatriot.

"Why do you care what we do? We don't want any trouble here."

Arsc Verdason
You loiter in the marketplace of the city of Fassevel. The air around you is thick with humidity, smoke, and the bugs that thrive in the wet climate around you. Despite your acclimation to your native climate, sweat lines your face and body. Your hand habitually goes to your amulet. You can still see the dead woman's face in your mind's eye, but you have no leads on where to start investigating.

((I'm not really sure how to start you off, so you get a blank slate to do whatever to start investigating.))

Pollux Armiksen
You've finally arrived. The city of Rhadia in the Acasi Empire. It's... less than what you expected.

Sarach was organized. Well-built. When your people begin a settlement, they plan it out from its infancy onward. This place looks like it sprouted out of ill-thought through necessity.

Which, you suppose, it probably was.

Nevertheless, you're here. The world stretches out before you, and, as an emissary from the Skalkran Consortium, it's your duty and honor to represent your people in this strange, foreign land. As you set out into the city proper, the exotic sights and sounds of human civilization surround you.

[sjm9876]

 Great. Arsc had come for the joys of the city, and now he had a murder to solve. Why was life so much more difficult in apparent civilization. He wondered where to start for a moment. No one had seemed to know the woman, and it would be far too dangerous to ask about the amulet directly.
 In the end, two courses of action presented themselves. Firstly he would check any jewelry shops, asking about 'unusual items', and secondly he would enquire with the local guards as to the presence of any suspicious groups nearby, or bandit activity out of the ordinary.

[IamanElfCollaborator]

Pollux shivered from the sea breeze, looking around the city of Rhadia.
"Asmar knows I find another Skalkr who knows the place."

He looked around, trying to make sense of the place. He couldn't get the logic of the place; in Sarach, the roads led to certain sectors pertaining to the main occupation of whoever worked there had; he'd lived mainly in the Mason's Sector, occasionally venturing to the Smithing Sector to learn other trades.

Rhadia....was nothing like that. Inns and tailors were next to each other, markets in the streets sat next to what appeared to be an embassy; clearly to other nations apart from the Consortium, for the Consortium and the Empire had only recently contacted each other.

It utterly bewildered the Skalkr.
"I hoped for something more. Hopefully I'm right. The humans are famous, even in the Consortium."

He slowly made his way around. Luckily, the Skalkr also spoke and read Common, which was useful, as it seemed that the humans had no signs in Skalar, Pollux' native language. Some signs were in dialects or languages which Pollux did not recognise, and some had words he did not understand.

Pollux did, however find one familiar place. The tavern.

The only place in this confusing land that he felt comfortable entering.

He entered, hoping for the best.
It was positively bustling with activity in the Pig's Trotter, the tavern Pollux chose. Merchants, butchers, sailors, bankers, and some craftsmen were quietly talking to each other over a pint of good beer, and Pollux spotted some  Skalkr, looking like they'd also recently left from Sarach, nearby.


He decided to approach them.
"Hello. I am Pollux, son of Armik. Are you all from Sarach as well?"
Talk to the other Skalkr.

[flame99]

Bandits. A scourge on mankind. Should Aerzekar had been given a chance, he likely would have killed his own family's encampment. In addition, he had been wanting to see some of the outlying lands, and perhaps the walk would give him some monsters to fight.
Aerzekar chases down the bandits, following their trails, hoping to arrive by night, unnoticed.

[Criptfeind]

Streic held up his hands with a smile. "Ah. Sorry if I came off on the wrong foot here. To be frank. I myself am looking for work. I have found myself here in this country so far from home with little money and no way forward. I feel certain that all lands need the service of men of strength of arm and mind." At this Streic nods towards his two acquaintances. "But unfortunately I don't know the customs of this country, so I am simply seeking information from some likely looking fellows? Perhaps you would allow me to rest my tired feet with you follows and order us a round of drinks and we could chat of the goings on of this country?" Streic said he smiled and put a hand on the back of a empty chair.

If they don't say no, order a round of drinks and try to get some information from them.

[kj1225]

Having nothing better to do Kyle goes to investigate the well.

[vastaghen12]

Onell, embarrassed by his own lack of faith, quietly walks toward the church main gates  staff on hand, in order to confront whatever awoke him. Once outside, Onell attempts to remember the few things that he was told about the dealing with spirits and after a small pause, exclaims the following with a somewhat hesitating voice: Spirit, I am unaware of the reasons that make you roam this world, but know that this Servant of the Sun welcomes you and that he wishes to speak.
After directing this words toward the moonlit plaza, he awaits for the unexpected visitor to show itself.

[Araph]

Arsc Verdason

Great. Arsc had come for the joys of the city, and now he had a murder to solve. Why was life so much more difficult in apparent civilization. He wondered where to start for a moment. No one had seemed to know the woman, and it would be far too dangerous to ask about the amulet directly.
 In the end, two courses of action presented themselves. Firstly he would check any jewelry shops, asking about 'unusual items', and secondly he would inquire with the local guards as to the presence of any suspicious groups nearby, or bandit activity out of the ordinary.

You comb the jewelers and pawn shops of the city. The more avaricious salesmen deluge you in overpriced offers of 'rare' jewelry, while the tactful merchants ask if there's any particular sort of rare item you're searching for. Avoiding specifics, you answer that you're searching for a particular amulet. None of the traders have the amulet you're looking for, though a few offer similar pendants that had recently come into their possession. You decline all the offers.

Your next course of action is to pursue information through more official channels. Asking the Fassevel guards, you're eventually directed to see the commander of the day watch, Cerrulus Ierech, in the watch headquarters. With no other leads, you traverse the crowded city to reach the center of its civil authority. After a brief wait, you're directed into Cerrulus's office.

The commander is a stocky man, with an olive complexion and deep-set green eyes. As he looks at you, you get the feeling that, from a lifetime of carrying the law with him, his eyes can pierce through the masks people wear to their motives. It's uncanny.

"Well? What is it?" His accent and appearance mark him as a northerner, probably hailing from the Dielec Peninsula.

Pollux Armiksen

He decided to approach them.
"Hello. I am Pollux, son of Armik. Are you all from Sarach as well?"
Talk to the other Skalkr.

The others react with surprise. After a moment, one of them speaks up in your native tongue.

"Good afternoon to you, Armiksen. I am Koruch, son of Duram. It's rare to see another Skalkr out here." He gestures to an empty chair, which you gratefully sit in."That is Eoric, son of Ramsted, and that is..."

He goes around the table introducing his companions. As he does so, you notice a few of the humans nearby looking at you askance. Koruch follows your gaze to the bystanders before urgently whispering to you.

"Don't make eye contact. Just be calm and avoid looking threatening."

You can hear a few of the humans muttering under their breath to each other.

"...always more of them..." "...grey-skinned devils..." "...what they're whispering about in that blasted tongue of theirs..."

"Just ignore what they're saying. There're always a few of those people around." Koroch clears his throat slightly and continues on. "As I was saying, we've come from Geshud. You've just come from Sarach?"

Aerzekar Mui

Bandits. A scourge on mankind. Should Aerzekar had been given a chance, he likely would have killed his own family's encampment. In addition, he had been wanting to see some of the outlying lands, and perhaps the walk would give him some monsters to fight.
Aerzekar chases down the bandits, following their trails, hoping to arrive by night, unnoticed.

After a brief respite, you set out again. Nowadays, you're only content when you're on the hunt, rarely spending more than a single night idle. You had asked about for directions to Bahrak under the guise of a man seeking work, and you know it will take a full day to travel there.

At least, it would for most people.

Your pace is exceptional, given the sweltering heat, and you arrive shortly after night had fallen. You survey the area around you. Not more than a few miles ahead lies the mining camp, and, in the pale light of Telusis overhead, you can see the barren rocks and sand for miles around you. Fortunately, the night is not so bright as to obscure the light from cooking fires. To your left, nearly a mile away, is the faint red glow of a campfire, nearly obscured by a rocky outcropping.

Approaching stealthily, you attempt to remain out of sight of their sentry. [5+1] It's like taking candy from a baby. You sneak around the camp and scale the rocks sheltering it.

Below you, you see the layout of the camp. One bandit on a makeshift wall acting as a sentry on the far side; three bandits around the campfire in the middle of the camp; one in a tent nearly directly under you.

This should be easy.

Streic

Streic held up his hands with a smile. "Ah. Sorry if I came off on the wrong foot here. To be frank. I myself am looking for work. I have found myself here in this country so far from home with little money and no way forward. I feel certain that all lands need the service of men of strength of arm and mind." At this Streic nods towards his two acquaintances. "But unfortunately I don't know the customs of this country, so I am simply seeking information from some likely looking fellows? Perhaps you would allow me to rest my tired feet with you follows and order us a round of drinks and we could chat of the goings on of this country?" Streic said he smiled and put a hand on the back of a empty chair.

If they don't say no, order a round of drinks and try to get some information from them.

The hefty one smiles broadly.

"Well, if you're paying for the next round..."

The smaller one is mostly assuaged, and acquiesces. You take a seat and call over the serving girl. After the next drink is in his hand, the big guy sighs contentedly and magnanimously begins talking.

"So yer lookin' for work, righ'? Well, there's always th' army. Even with the war done, they's still hirin' soldiers." With a conspiratorial waggle of his eyebrows, he leans in and speaks in a low voice. "Bu' if yer lookin' for some real work, I reckon we cud tell some o' the righ' folks 'bout yer pre-dicament."

Kyle Johnson

Having nothing better to do Kyle goes to investigate the well.

You quickly find the well. It's in a sorry state, with crumbling mortar barely holding moss-coated stones. Looking down past the grating, you see a rusty ladder embedded in the side of the tunnel leading down into the darkness. With a furtive glance about to make sure you're alone, you pull a small, collapsible bulls-eye lantern out from under your cloak and light its wick. Heaving the grating to the side, you lower yourself into the well.

The Undercity is silent as a grave. The quiet is only broken by your soft footsteps and the occasional squeak of rats. Following your mental map, you carefully surmount the crumbled masonry and rotting wood around you as you approach the estate's basements. The tunnels are pitch black; some might even call it oppressive. You don't mind. The dark is an old friend to you.

It should be around here somewhere nearby... You're tipped off by a wooden thud. You click the shutters on your lantern closed and freeze. Thump. Thump. Thump. Footsteps to your right, probably through a thin wall. Thump. Thump. Thump. Creeeaaak THUMP. A hatch, opening and closing. You must be right next to the basement. Leaving the lantern closed, you feel your way along the wall. As your eyes adjust, a pinpoint of light is visible. It spreads until you can see the edge of what looks like a door. You open the lantern again and examine the wall. It's a loose panel. Your face wears a rare smile. You've got your way in.

Onell

Onell, embarrassed by his own lack of faith, quietly walks toward the church main gates  staff on hand, in order to confront whatever awoke him. Once outside, Onell attempts to remember the few things that he was told about the dealing with spirits and after a small pause, exclaims the following with a somewhat hesitating voice: Spirit, I am unaware of the reasons that make you roam this world, but know that this Servant of the Sun welcomes you and that he wishes to speak.
After directing this words toward the moonlit plaza, he awaits for the unexpected visitor to show itself.

Curls of fog wind through the open church doors. Your breath billows out in a warm cloud to stir the cold, damp air into spirals. Occasionally, a slight eddy in the wind sets the fog to moving on its own.

Nothing happens. The feeling of unease remains.

You think it may have just been a dream, and you return to the church. On the verge of shutting the doors, you hear something.

Don't go yet.

You pause in the middle of shutting the doors. The unease intensifies into pinpricks of fear across the back of your next. Praying for courage, you hesitantly look outside again. The church courtyard is empty, with houses surrounding it in a messy assembly of structures. Down the unpaved road, a blue light glimmers through the fog.

Archmedus Magnes
Puffs of dust follow your footsteps as you walk down the dry dirt roads towards the city of Ereben. You've spent years travelling; far longer than an inventor of your skill should have been. Misfortune, prejudice, malevolence; you've faced them all. Now... You think you have better prospects.

Prince Temion, lord of Ereben, has expressed interest in your work. Through chance, he discovered that the brilliant engineer behind the cranes that built much of his city was not, as he had thought, in his employ.

He reacted poorly, unfortunately for the engineer who stole your designs.

Now you have his attention. The city grows closer, and you can hear the clatter of city life being carried to you on the wind.

This is the chance you've been waiting for.