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 ArmiksenHe 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 MuiBandits. 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.
StreicStreic 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 JohnsonHaving 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.
OnellOnell, 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 MagnesPuffs 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.