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The Town of Vikarh (Open RP) - Closed 
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Malekith's Personal Guard
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Joined: Wed Jan 25, 2012 8:16 pm
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<Immersion track>

Nestled in a crescent-shaped cove, overlooking the perilous straits between the Sea of Malice and the Sea of Chill, Vikarh stands behind its roughly built battlements. Clinging to dark granite from which the majority of the buildings are hewn, the town is a favoured outpost for mercenaries, cut-throats, vagabonds, and those poor fools with a thirst for adventure. It is ideally placed to cater for Druchii heading north or elsewhere inland, as well as launching a raiding fleet. A visitor would note the steep cobbled streets rising upwards from the docks, narrow walkways, and tall buildings obscuring the seldom seen sun. This far north, it is far more common for low cloud or freezing fog to blanket the town. The weather, as Dark Lord Ruerl famously once said, "Is enough to drive anyone to madness." Perhaps then, that is the reason adventure seekers come to this town.

Behind its gates, Vikarh offers the traveller lodgings, provisions, medicine, and entertainment (for the right price, of course). The natural harbour shape of the cove allows space for two piers with moorings, and has the facilities to repair any sea going vessel. The west end of the town is well kept and is regarded as less deadly than the east end, where fracases, feuds, and unexplained deaths are not uncommon. Many blame the patrons of The Iron Gauntlet tavern, and visitors who seek a more civilised stay are advised to take lodgings at The Bloody Blade Inn.

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How This Works

~ This is an open RP. Anyone can drop in, any time, and roleplay.
~ You don't need to be invited to join this thread.
~ Explore the town and make use of the various buildings.
~ Use your imagination to envision what the inside of the buildings might look like.
~ You may play any realistic character, from your RPG "main" to a resident, a thief, or a foolish wandering human marauder, but you MUST post who and where you are at the top of each post.
~ You can adopt a role in the town, i.e. Harbourmaster, Innkeeper, Apothecary. PM me if interested.
~ Every now and again, I'll drop in a Mod post to spice things up a bit, i.e. day to night, it starts raining, a nauglir escapes, etc. Something random might even occur to one of your characters.
~ There are no deadlines. However, if the person you have spoken to does not respond for 7 days, assume he/she won't, and move on with your exploration.
~ If you're new to RP, don't be shy! I'll give you a gentle nudge with advice if your style needs improvement. ;)

Town Roles Claimed
Beast Pens - Illim the Beastmaster (Smiler666)
Weaponsmith - Cab'um (Calisson)



Rules

1. No godmoding. This means you can't force the actions of another RPer with your actions (e.g you can post that you try to chop their head off, not that you do chop their head off unless they have agreed to this!). This also includes character godmoding. You are not the 7000 year old mother of Morathi, Drachau of Ghrond, or uber powerful vampire witch elf with rare blessings from the Temple of Khaine meaning that you are invincible, can fly, and play Malekith's fanfare on a kazoo.
2. Keep it clean. Violence is expected, as is mild swearing. But if I see the C word or F word you will be punished. Follow D.Net's user agreement. We do have a flesh house, but we don't want to see slash RP. You can hint at sexual activities having taken place, but I don't want to see graphic descriptions. Imagine your posts to have a strong 12 rating if it were in a movie.
3. When posting, write your character name, role (e.g. warrior), and location at the top of each post.
4. Try to avoid The Curse of Mary Sue. Keep your character believable, and stick to canon lore please. This is not D&D.
5. Type speech in bold font, and thoughts in italic. It is a good habit to get into as most of the RP groups use this format. As this is an open RP thread you don't need to summarise your actions at the end of your post, unless you want to.
6. OOC to be made at the bottom of your post.
7. IC, you can be as vile as you like. But I expect you to treat each other with respect and politeness at all times OOC.


I operate with a 3 strikes method. If you break a rule once you get a warning. Break the same rule twice, you go to gaol and won't be allowed to post here for a week. Break that rule three times, and you will be used to decorate the battlements. :twisted:


Last edited by Nightcall on Thu Jul 05, 2012 7:28 pm, edited 12 times in total.



Thu Mar 01, 2012 2:22 pm
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It is early spring, mid-morning. The citizens of Vikarh are preparing the town for the start of another raiding season. Winter this year has been particularly hard, and piles of melting snow stand on the street corners where the cobbled byways have been cleared. Granary supplies are low, but shipments of goods and provisions are arriving daily to replenish stocks. It is a busy time for mercenaries and corsairs seeking work for the forthcoming season.


Thu Mar 01, 2012 2:53 pm
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Prophet of Tzeentch
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OOC: Well with 22 in recess an informal RPG sounds like a nice idea. Personally I envisage Vikrah as being a city rather than a small town but perhaps this was Vikrah at an earlier point in time (to soothe my troubled mind). Anyway I hope this is right and what you had in mind.

IC: Name:Sylant Vecharin
Profession: Slave merchant
Stats:WS3 S3 T3 D4 I4
Equipment: Whip, dagger, stained travel robes
Skills: A silver tongue (or so he would like to think)


Sylant Vecharin, slave driver extraordinaire was glad to see land again, even if it was a pitiful little port clinging to the sea of chill. The trading this season had not gone very well, Asur patrols and an increasingly competent array of human navies meant that the raiding ships had been fewer than usual and often less well stocked when they did. Whatever their excuses that meant higher prices and the thrice damned trade lords nearly had the skin of his back just to get a dozen slaves of decent stock. That was why he was glad to see land, this place was far smaller than the least of the six cities and slave traders were rarer. He could get a good price here if there were elves with the circlets to buy. He would need to sell quickly, paying the captain of this ship for passage and storage was taking all but the last dregs of his coin.

The cargo ship finally docked, corsairs dashing about tying her up safely and letting down the gang plank for more lubberly elves to follow. Irritatingly a harbour official was waiting to come aboard to inspect the cargo, Sylant frowned at that, yet another elf he would have to bribe...

Half an hour later Sylant was stood in the main street with his shackled band of slaves. Most were human though three were Asur; the elves might make good additions to a flesh house while the humans were all hardy and would soon recover their strength with a few decent meals. The long trip first in a black ark and then through the beast pens of Kar Karond had made them docile enough though still the merchant could not help but wish he could afford a guard or two.
' This time next year...' he promised himself, not for the first time.

The auction house was reasonably large for this small town but very sparse. In stark contrast to the great slave halls of Karond Kar it was a building of wood and undressed stone with bars across the windows and a sturdy door
"Come!" Sylant yanked on the chain connected to the necks and ankles of all twelve slaves, the humans' grasp of Druck Eltharion was poor but they understood a few command words, enough that they could take orders and work. Wordlessly the chain gang followed their owner towards the doors where a pair of guards stood at their ease. At his approach they stopped chatting and came to some semblance of attention
"Are you buying or selling good sir?" the elder of them asked
"Selling, I am Sylant Vecharin, slave merchant extraordinaire," Sylant declared with a flourish of oratorical pomp
"Very good sir," the guard opened the large double doors
"You will need to see the auction house owner, the boy here can take you to the slave pens where you can keep your stock, the next auction isn't for another week."

That made Sylant blanche though he hid it well. A week! damn these provincial holes, his purse would scarcely stretch to an inn for a week. Outwardly though it would be unwise to say as much and so he simply nodded his head gracefully
"I would be much obliged."

So he would be here for at least a week, he would have to see what this place had to offer.

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Sat Mar 03, 2012 12:08 pm
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((OOC: Nice to see you, Drainial! I appreciate each person has their own idea of what Vikarh would look like, and it is longer established on D.net than me. It was quite a challenge to come up with something feasible. I made it a town based on the information from the lore that "There are six major cities in Naggaroth which contain a significant portion of the Dark Elf population. These cities were built as multi-walled fortresses and almost all life in Naggaroth is centered around them. ". There is mention of Naggor in the Malus books as being the city of the Witch Lord, but this is as accepted as Dark Elves with facial hair. I guess we all have our own interpretation of the Warhammer setting, which to me is part of the beauty of it, and I am well aware you can't please everyone! I figured with Vikarh being the base from which adventures begin, it would be a fortified town situated in a good location for exploration. As a town, I have also omitted a palace and temples from the map, though no doubt, there would be shrines. If it would as you say, soothe your troubled mind to imagine this thread being your interpretation of Vikarh at an earlier time, then feel free. I hope you enjoy your stay!

You have pretty much got to grips with the posting format, but there are a few things;
- You don't have to post stats and equipment (unless you want to)
- Please post your character's location at the top with the name and profession. Base this on where he is when you finish your post; in this case, the Auction House.
- OOC to go at the bottom of a post please. ;) ))

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Casaythe Blackstorm - Warrior (Corsair) - Group 22
Skills: Awareness, Endurance
Equipment: Short Sword, Glaive, Medium Armour, Sea Dragon Cloak, Repeater Crossbow, clip of bolts [11/20], 405 gold, Talisman of Darkness, Tool Kit, 2 months' rations
Stats: WS4, S4, T5, D3, I4

Mod, Group 38


Last edited by Nightcall on Wed Mar 28, 2012 1:53 pm, edited 1 time in total.



Sat Mar 03, 2012 2:36 pm
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Name: Illim
Equipment: various stabby things, a scourge and some cold-one kibble
End-post location: the auction house

Illim's menagerie was hungrier than usual this morning. He wasn't surprised, after all he had been out late at The Gauntlet shouting down an idiot gaol guard about the various benefits of a sturdy leather strap over chains. Unfortunately the guard had took it upon hisself to give Illim a live demonstration for the night, so he had just staggered back to the pens with his wrists and head throbbing and it was well past morning feeding time.

Illim decided to do the worst first, namely a great ugly slime hound that he had spent a small fortune acquiring and even more on a solid, enchanted steel box to keep it from burning it's way out, as a special order for some mad noble several months ago. The git had yet to deem it necessary to come and fetch his abomination and so Illim had the dubious pleasure of climbing on top of a metal box and emptying a bucket of chum through a hatch onto an overgrown slug. The little beast didn't make it easy, twice it had squirmed up the side of it's cell and sat waiting for him under the hatch, it had almost got him both times as well the little blighter, so Illim had implemented an ingenious 'big pointy stick' solution.

Next on his list was a nest of vipers Illim had bred up from just a pair he had as a boy, nasty little beasts that sold well to the more discreet clientèle and occasionally found thier way into the homes and/or workplaces of people who irritated him - I must remember to pay a visit to the barracks at some point. Followed by a mass of rats that he kept mostly to save on feed bills, but were occasionally bought by street-scum who wanted some company or something to guard whatever meagre possessions they had, the rats were terrible for both but that didn't stop them being bought. Then there were the two wolf hounds, Romulus and Remus, who got nothing for today since an out of town hunter wanted to rent them out in a couple of days to flush out some autari who he said were causing him troubles, and the pair were much better at tracking when they were starved, they were also good at accidently eating the people who turned them loose but as far as Illim was concerned that's thier fault for not reading the disclaimer.

Illim's final stop wasn't in the pens but down the street at the nauglir stables, his pride and joy: Betsy the prize winning nauglir. He had raised her from a (...pup? What do you call a baby cold one?) and he had had to fight off dozens of offers from hopeful highborns who wanted to break her for a mount, but Illim wouldn't be swayed she was as close to a masterpiece a humble beastmaster could hope for and she was priceless because of it. The grain supplies had been low recently and the local slaves had been suffering for it, many were too malnourished to sell, so Illim was paying a premium for all Betsy's feed. To make matters worse most were stringy and weak, so Betsy was constantly underfed and her scales were beginning to peel.

Walking through the slave market this morning though he noticed a short train of meatier looking slaves being led to the slave pens, they looked fresh off the ship so they would be nicely bulked up from weeks of inactivity. He called across the square to the boy leading the train,
"You boy, where's that meat coming from," the boy stopped and looked confused for a moment, then he glanced at the slaves and a mix a realisation and queasiness crossed his face,
"Then auction house, sir, a merchant brought them in just this morning," he squeaked back to Illim. Illim tossed a small coin to the boy and set off again, this time walking straight past the stables and heading into the centre of the town.

When he reached the auction house he barked at the door guards,
"I want to see the newcomer merchant, the one that brought the slaves in this morning." He waited impatiently as the guards mumbled to one another, before one of them set off inside in search of the merchant.

OOC: procrastinated way too long over this post. Also, this is probably the most I've written in one sitting, eyes are currently bleeding :shock:

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Sun Mar 04, 2012 1:29 am
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Name: Sylant Vecharin
Profession: Slave merchant
Location: Auction house bar


The meeting with the auction house owner had been rather disappointing, as the guard had said the next auction was not for a week and there really wasn't much more to add to that. There were a couple of other people coming into town to sell and a criminal had been executed a few days past so his belongings would also be hawked off but other than that his slaves would be the most expensive thing on the menu. Certainly there didn't look to be a good opportunity for wheeling and dealing nor did he expect to reach the slaves full value, all in all Sylant was rather regretting coming to Vikrah.

One nice surprise had been finding that the auction house had a bar if not an especially salubrious one. Sylant didn't trust the wine but by lucky chance they had a rather decent dwarven liquor called whisky he was discovering something of a taste for. The second glass was going down as quickly as the first when a queer looking fellow walked in. The bar was not large, a simple high counter with a serving slave behind and a couple of small tables ranged behind. Slyant was sat at the counter when the newcomer came in. Apart from the slave he was alone and so the elf could hardly fail to see him and something in his eyes told the slave merchant it was no coincidence. Dressed in leathers and reeking with the distinctive blend of blood, dung and sweat he knew too well Sylant recognised him as a beast master of some sort. People like this were frequently in need of slaves for all manner of reasons and everyone was a potential customer.
"Well met good sir," the silver tongued merchant raised a glass in greeting
"What brings you here, to buy or to sell?"

_________________
Moding a group of Druchii.net players is much like directing the musical 'Cats' using actual cats. Frustrating, difficult, chaotic but ultimatley satisfying and a great deal of fun.

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Gentleman of Moderation


Last edited by Drainial on Tue Mar 06, 2012 10:50 pm, edited 1 time in total.



Tue Mar 06, 2012 3:49 pm
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((OOC: Smiler666, please remember to add your characters profession or role at the top of your post with the rest of the blurb.

Drainial, could you write speech in bold please?

Ta muchly both. Great posts both btw! ;) *goes back to lurking*))

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Casaythe Blackstorm - Warrior (Corsair) - Group 22
Skills: Awareness, Endurance
Equipment: Short Sword, Glaive, Medium Armour, Sea Dragon Cloak, Repeater Crossbow, clip of bolts [11/20], 405 gold, Talisman of Darkness, Tool Kit, 2 months' rations
Stats: WS4, S4, T5, D3, I4

Mod, Group 38


Last edited by Nightcall on Wed Mar 28, 2012 1:53 pm, edited 1 time in total.



Tue Mar 06, 2012 7:57 pm
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EDIT:
I post here the original character, who was used in this story.

=============================================
Who said that only Dwarfs, Skaven and Empire get mad scientists? Now the Druchii have one, too. !eek!

Initial note: At present, I’m involved with group 34 and considering 22.
This character should be my next one. There is no hurry.
I'd rather be in a group interested in fun, humor, nonsense, and able to include such a character, than in a group mostly interested in epic fights where he would be more a burden.

Note 2: The character has settled in Vikarh.
He will remain in Vikarh until a good opportunity presents itself to RP somewhere else with merry - and science friendly - companions.
I would recommend them to meet with him at Vikarh.



• Name: Cab’um “Nimby” Smith.
• Sex: Male.
• Age: 150.
• Height: very tall, 1m95.
• Weight: average, 80kg.
• Appearance: Haughty attitude, which denotes wrongly with the clothing. Dark tousled hair. Fixed wide open dark reddish eyes.
More burns and bruising than scars. His two thumbnails are incrusted with electrum.
The solid dresses are of ordinary facture and present many burns. After all, he is a smith.
A strong Empire's accent. Ach so?
• Character Class: Mage. (yes, that’s a male druchii mage. But himself is not really aware to be a mage, he believes to be a superb talented smith).
• Character Statistics: WS1 S4 T3 D5 I5
• Starting Equipment: Staff (looks quite like a smith’s hammer) – dagger (throwing, boomerang-shaped)
• Starting Skills: Power of Chamon (1) - Smithing

• Character Background
His father was a Duriath Helbaine, his mother was a young sorceress of Metal, member of Duriath’s raiding corsair fleet. She gave birth in the course of a two years expedition. As the corsair fleet was returning from Quatar, her ship was lost during a tempest and, wrecked on shoal waters, suffered an attack by the pirates of Sartosa. She was captured and later ransomed for a fortune, which was soon recovered by Helbaine among the ashes of the town which had received it. However, the one year old boy had disappeared.
It could have been possible to recognize him with the two electrum thumbnails made by his mother at his birth, with the seal of Helbaine and her own seal engraved. However, his father’s family did not care for a bastard and his mother had not the resources.

The boy grew up and became a slave, worse, an Elf slave among Humans. At that time, Catrazza, a famous scientist, was desperately looking for a servant talented enough for the high precision works he was considering. The young Elf showed some predisposition and joined his workshop. There, he was no longer at the dregs of society, although still rejected by the other apprentices, especially after a few mistakes which earned him his first name. Cab’um observed his professor and accumulated bribes of scientific methodology; although he was far from understanding it fully.
Fifteen years later, he joined the laboratory of Leonardo da Miragliano. When Leonardo was hired to create the Imperial Engineering School of Altdorf, Cab’um followed him. He spent twelve years there, never going outside, usually tasked with the maintenance of the School’s Museum. There, he discovered an incredible variety of bizarre devices coming from the whole Empire, as well as a sample of foreign unlikely machineries, mostly coming from Tilea but also a few of them with Chaos Dwarf or even Skaven origin. Of course, nobody knew for what use these strange apparatus were made for.
His laboratory life ended when he joined the team of Von Zeppel, who was working on military devices designed for battlefield. There, he learned about the basics of a battle, about surviving and dying, about winning and losing. There, he was encouraged to try endlessly new weapons and new armours, with innovative shapes and powered improvements.
The boy had grown an adult. During his whole life, he had seen the thirst for power through experiment. He had observed the most brilliant minds of the time trying to build the ultimate weapon. Himself, he instinctively could feel the call of Metal, especially through his electrum thumbnails which were still visible. He knew that the engineer’s approaches were missing a point. He knew in his mind that he could achieve better, given a chance.
It was during a battle against Orcs that he received a revelation. A man with a metallic helmet mounting a Pegasus was wielding incredibly strong metallic energies across the skies, causing havoc in the green hordes. That was Balthasar Gelt. After witnessing such feats, Cab’um oriented his secret experiments into the mastery of the mysterious Metal energy that he had witnessed and felt.

Cab’um’s life came to a turning point at the end of a battle against Dark Elves. He was captured, along most of his army. However, the jailers soon spotted his presence among the Humans. They noticed that the Humans despised him (they did not know that it was because of his reputation as a mad engineer) and, for that reason, they set him free during the journey across the Ocean.
All that Cab’um had seen in his life was laboratories, museums, drill fields and battlefields. When he arrived in Karond Kar, he became a smith. Not caring much about the Druchii way of life, he spent his time at his forge, experimenting again and again.
Soon, his incredible creations earned him a reputation. He was hired to become a noble’s private smith. However, his experiments would disturb so much the palace that he was offered to serve another nobleman. The story repeated several times until nobody wanted him in their backyard anymore.

Today, Cab’um “Nimby” Smith hates all the philistines who don’t understand his genius: the Humans of Tilea, the Humans of the Empire, the Dark Elfes of Naggaroth, well… pretty much everyone. He will show them all, who is the master genius of the time. In order to achieve that, he must keep going into battle after battle, and experiment new deadly devices until he finds the ultimate one. He will gladly go with anyone offering him food and shelter and battles.
However, he doesn't admit that he has not the slightest practical sense, and is helpless if left unassisted.
What matters is that he has achieved a high mastery of metal transformation, especially for use on a battlefield. He is able to conceive any kind of device to perform any improbable task. And some of his devices even work! And sometimes it even lasts!

• Character Ambitions
Alchemy - Power of Chamon (2) - Masterful Smithing - Metal Mastery - Power of Chamon (3) - Power of Azyr (1) - Power of Aqshy (1)
The stat he would like to improve the most is his Intelligence, of course! A good Toughness would help to resist the occasional explosion. Dexterity would help to build more delicate machineries.
The equipment he needs is a black powder handgun with a bill hook bayonet. Next should come a blowpipe morning star. A piked buckler could be handy, if it could be thrown. Did I mention a self-propelling heavy armour?
Of course, in order to create these equipments, he would need a set of smith tools, powder, hardware of all sorts and a portable anvil.

Summary:
Cab’um “Nimby” Smith (Group tbd) - Mage - WS1 S4 T3 D5 I5
Skills: Power of Chamon (1) - Smithing
Equipment: Staff (looks quite like a smith’s hammer) – dagger (throwing, boomerang-shaped)


=============================================


Name: Cab’um “Nimby” Smith - Profession: smith & mad scientist.
Equipment: smith’s hammer & strangely bent knives - dirty smith's dress.
End-post location: Auction house bar

-=-=-

Months ago, his last patron had spoken ocasionally about a city further west, named Vikarh.
Cab'um hoped that his potential would be fully understood there.
He could not imagine that it was an oblique way to send him away from the forge, where he had made so many fascinating - and noisy - experiments.
Anyway, he seized the opportunity to move away from the only city he had known since he came to Naggaroth.

-=-=-

As he was getting off the ship, Cab'um was in a dark mood. As usual.
Finally! My time in Karond Kar is over. Ach! Sehr gut!
He explained to the city folks who did not care a damn:
Those mediocre people out there, they sure liked my work, but none could not understand my thirst for perfection.
Too bad for them. Now they will miss... my genius!
Here I come, oh my new haven!


On the pier, he saw a column of slaves. The memories of when he was himself a slave among humans chilled his backbone.
Having no better place to start with, he followed the slaves at distance. He hoped they would speak some human language he could recognize, but they were silent.

He ended up at the auction house, but it seemed that the time for selling slaves had not come.
The owner headed to the bar. He followed, with the intent to ask him about where the slaves came from.
As a customer approached, he left them bargain and listened casually.

The bartender brought him half a glass of "the same", telling Here you are, stranger, do you prefer it half filled or half empty?
Cab'um reply was full of persiflage:
How incompetent you are, the glass was made twofold too big!


<OOC:
@ Nightcall
Compliments for the idea, and for the outstanding drawings. :P
It drove me to participate.
If you have a use for a weird, fancy smith, there he comes!
The full background is in the hyperlink on the name.


@ Drainial
The size shown could well shelter 1000-3000 inhabitants.
That seems acceptable for a medieval city.
>


PM sent

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Winds never stop blowing, Oceans are borderless. Get a ship and a crew, so the World will be ours! Today the World, tomorrow Nagg! {--|oBrotherhood of the Coast!o|--}


Last edited by Calisson on Fri Jul 06, 2012 5:10 am, edited 3 times in total.



Tue Mar 06, 2012 8:31 pm
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Name: Sylant Vecharin
Profession: Slave merchant
Location: Auction house bar


The bar was filling up with strange personages, well strange was not always bad. This new elf did not look like a business man and seemed to smell of black powder. Strangeness aside though Sylant was new in town and he had no intention of going a week without meeting any of the locals. Taking his glass he moved to sit nearer to the other drinker, the beast master could just as well join them both as him alone after all. Making sure not to get too close (a dagger to the ribs was not unheard of in a Druchii bar even when no cause was apparent) he raised his glass to the stranger.
"Greetings sir, Sylant Vecharin is my name, may I enquire what you are doing in Vikrah, you have the air of one new to the town as I am."

OOC: @ Callison; true though there doesn't seem to be much in the way of residential area (because that would clutter things too much a suppose). It is just in comparison to the way Vikrah is portrayed in groups 22 and 28, with multiple lords, dozens of shops, inns ect and a central palace with a Drachau. It is all down to interpretation though.

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Moding a group of Druchii.net players is much like directing the musical 'Cats' using actual cats. Frustrating, difficult, chaotic but ultimatley satisfying and a great deal of fun.

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Fri Mar 09, 2012 12:36 am
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Name: Cab’um “Nimby” Smith - Profession: smith & mad scientist.
Equipment: smith’s hammer & strangely bent knives - dirty smith's dress.
End-post location: Auction house bar

-=-=-

Did the slave trader mistake him for a customer? A former slave himself, Cab'um was a staunch abolitionist.
On the other hand, his own experiments required often to be tried in real life conditions and sometimes (especially after witnessing the first try), volunteers were hard to find.
When this happened, he would concede and privilege Science over his own principles.
That's the only case when he would "use" slaves. Lots of them. As people say, you have to break a few eggs before you get a decent omelet.

Good day for you, Mister Sylant Vecharin. In the future, you will be able to boast to have met myself... Cab'um! 8)
I am a smith, the most talented specialist for all kind of weapons, you probably would know my reputation if you were involved in warfare.
People in Karond Kar talk about me as "Nimby", for whatever reason. They are weird.
Unfortunately I can't show you my creations. The last ones I made were, err, ahum, well they need repairs since, err, well it's too long to explain why I left Karond Kar.

Tell me so, you are a slave trader, are you? Your slaves, where do they come from? Are they decent warriors?
And have you seen a decent forge around here?

Taking his glass without waiting for any answer to his many questions, he rose it at the trader.
Nice to meet you. Ein prosit!
The drink smelt strong. It tasted stronger.
Ach!That's not beer that you drink. What is that denn?Do they sell it, really?

_________________
Winds never stop blowing, Oceans are borderless. Get a ship and a crew, so the World will be ours! Today the World, tomorrow Nagg! {--|oBrotherhood of the Coast!o|--}


Fri Mar 09, 2012 2:26 am
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((OOC - I have contacted Gav Thorpe to see what the boundaries for this settlement would be, whilst remaining true to a canon Naggaroth. Here is his reply:

"I suppose it depends on the definition of city. The 'big six' are the most prominent settlements in Naggaroth and I would find it hard to justify a settlement of equal size suddenly appearing out of nowhere. The Dark Elves have a fluid hierarchy of power - aside from Malekith and few other well-established individuals - and they all consider themselves princes and rulers to some degree, if somewhat displaced from their true kingdom. Even a smaller settlement would have its local shrines, nobility and politics - plenty of opportunities for some cool roleplaying."

So I'm sticking to my guns in this instance. It is perfectly feasible for this Vikarh to have a workable class system without a palace. As it is not one of the major six, I've omitted a Drachau and Vaulkhar. I'd suggest imagining that some of the buildings in the western side of the city would represent a more wealthy area.

I've always stuck to canon lore in anything I've GM'd, and feel that it's also helpful to newcomers to the fluff to keep things "by the book". ;) ))

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Casaythe Blackstorm - Warrior (Corsair) - Group 22
Skills: Awareness, Endurance
Equipment: Short Sword, Glaive, Medium Armour, Sea Dragon Cloak, Repeater Crossbow, clip of bolts [11/20], 405 gold, Talisman of Darkness, Tool Kit, 2 months' rations
Stats: WS4, S4, T5, D3, I4

Mod, Group 38


Last edited by Nightcall on Wed Mar 28, 2012 1:52 pm, edited 1 time in total.



Tue Mar 13, 2012 11:27 am
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Name: Khelandria Skulltaker
Profession: Bride of Khaine
Location: Auction House bar


The cold and foggy streets of the small, and apparently Khaine-forsaken town of Vikarh were slick and the grey walls of the buildings - worn by storms and sea-spray and perhaps the occasional fire - were a testament to the fact that, although no Druchii might want to come here, the elements disagreed and Winter was currently visiting in abundance. The quiet of the street was broken by the occasional sound - shouting, the crack of a whip, the slow drip of blood, the scream of the enemy on the impaling blade -

Khelandria, sometime daughter of the temple and now Bride of Khaine, knew better than to question her visions of slaughter even as they overlapped with the reality around her. They were a gift from her beloved, and in any case were not all things better with blood? Shaking her head, the statuesque Druchii stalked across the dingy square towards the sound and warmth of the auction house. The visions ebbed away, and she remembered the reason for seeking out this place in the first place. Throwing open the door, she cast about for the smith.

The sight of the youthful Witch Elf filling the doorway of the little bar may or may not have alarmed the patrons, but the tall, athletic figure of Khelandria was always going to stand out (except in a temple in Ghrond, but unfortunately, this was not Ghrond). Her hair was swept up and back into a wild mane, her somewhat abbreviated clothing more a nod to the kind of accessories Khaine approves of, but this was not unusual among Brides of Khaine. Nor was the fact that she was armed to the teeth, one saw-edged blade held casually in her left hand, and the trio of skulls hanging by thongs through bloodstained orbits from her right wasn't that uncommon either. What was unusual was the well-spoken, calmly-modulated voice with which she spoke, more the polite address of a highborn than a shrieking harridan. She turned to the two Druchii by the bar, thinking that the one with the scent of the forge about him must surely be the smith.

Snaking a booted foot around the leg of one of the spare barstools she pulled it closer and sat down. With a smile that might have been disarmingly friendly had she not been a maibd, she nodded in greeting to the two men.

"Blessings of the Lord of Murder upon you. Can you tell me if I have the fortune to have found the only metal-smith in this town skilled enough to work with these trophies without marring the bone?"

By way of explanation, she held up the skulls, pausing to gaze rather fondly upon one, a little more classical than the rest, especially about the cheekbone area - or at least the part that wasn't obliterated by a slash from a serrated blade.

"I can pay well of course but only to someone who can make a good job of the work I need. Leaking orbits ruin the whole cast of a temple vessel, don't you agree?" She favoured the probable smith and his drinking companion with a smile that might have dazzled, had it not also been full of sharpened teeth.

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~ We Never Slept ~


Mon Mar 19, 2012 9:09 pm
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Name: Valathorn
Profession: Shadow Warrior... I mean Druchii mercenary.
Location: Gate of Chill


Valathorn pulled his stolen cloak tightly about his body as he pressed on up the snow ridden path towards the dark and foreboding gates of a small harbour town. He walked at the back of a small Druchii caravan, one that he had become a part of some months ago under the identity of Kaladeth, a Druchii hired sword. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, the master of masks had given over the impression that he wasn't that experienced with a blade despite acting the mercenary, often taking minor sword wounds in combat to help conceal his real identity. In a way it benefitted him twice, for the cuts led to scars which helped to change his appearance, making him look more sinister than handsome, a trait which might otherwise give him a way. His fair skin gave his face a mask of youth, despite the fact he was nearing his two hundredth year of his life. His jet black hair helped add to his disguise, along with the fact that where he felt suspicion he could pull his expression into a cold sneer, a curled lip, or any other common Druchii look of cruelty.

He had met the caravan on the coast many weeks march back to the east, and had followed them westwards in search of a distinct landmarker or City. Despite his time with the Naggarothi people, close to twenty years now in fact, Valathorn had never forgotten his true mission. He wasn't the only one who had been sent on this great mission, this fools errand, this assassination... many others had been sent in the past and no doubt many more since. He paused for a moment, wondering how many of the others yet lived? He began to wonder what cruelties and misjustices the Druchii would have inflicted on those that had been found out? He had already seen more than he cared to remember dont to his kin... captives flayed alive, starved to death, blinded and then left in the wilds. A cold shudder passed down his spine, and it wasn't caused by the icy flakes that landed upon his shoulders as the wind once again blew his long black cloak down, exposing a portion of his chest to the biting winds. He grabbed the material and pulled it tightly once again, realising that the wind carried with it a voice.

"Kaladeth?" repeated one of the caravan guards, almost shouting over the mild blizzard despite the short distance.

Valathorn looked up at the Druchii, realising that the last wagon in the caravan had rumbled to a halt behind him, and those in front had stopped and turned to look at him.

"I said are you stricken senseless by the cold, Kaladeth? We're barely an hours march from the gates and yet here you stand, transfixed by the dark thoughts I see brooding behind your eyes. Have you enemies here, in Vikarh?"

Vikarh. The name stirred an memory, more than twenty years old, of a scratched name upon a painted map... one that his Master had made him memorise before they had set sail. He thought back to the map, and recalled the position of the insignificant town amongst the Naggarothi landscape. It was the first town name he had remembered of those he had visited in close to a year, and upon realising he was now well on his way towards the next milestone of Har Ganeth from his starting point near Karond Kar, he breathed a sigh of releif and muttered a single word of response, starting to walk again until he caught up with the caravan guards that had stopped to watch him.

"What did you say, boy?" the caravan guard asked with a quizical sneer, as Valathorn brushed past him and set a determined pace for the gate.

"I said yes, I do have enemies here."


Approaching the Gate of Chill from the east, hoping to be granted entry to the City along with everyone else.


Mon Mar 19, 2012 9:54 pm
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Name: Cab’um “Nimby” Smith - Profession: smith & mad scientist.
Equipment: smith’s hammer & strangely bent knives - dirty smith's dress.
End-post location: Auction house bar

-=-=-

Paying no longer attention to the other folks, Cab'um examined his glass of so-called whisky with the greatest attention.
That drink. How strange.
It wasn’t sour like beer, but much, much stronger.
The initial taste on the tip of the tongue would take time to develop and to fill up the mouth.
It expanded progressively its full harmony of blended tastes of exotic origins.
<sniffing> Hmmmm-pf!
The second sip was even more intense, telling new tastes, revealing new fruits and rare wooden essences.
<swallowing> The third gulp was more brutal, and hit directly the forebrain.
Pschwlwlwlwlllp! Hiccup!

At this point, Cab'um started to devise a scientific experiment. He talk to himself in a barely intelligible voice:
As good as it is already, there is definitively room for improvement.
Cab’um knew from experience that alcohol would cause sleepiness. How could such tendency be countered? Ach ja! There was a very strange beverage coming from the far lands of Araby. How did they call it? Mokha. Yes, that was it. He had tasted it another time, in a palace in Nuln, where they had named it coffee. That would awake a dead orc.
But that was not enough. Possibly something could be added to soften the strength of the alcohol and the added sourness of the coffee. Milk cream, maybe? Whipped, that would float and add a nice white collar to the dark drink.
That experiment seemed promising.
Will they have a glass large enough for it?

-=-=-

Suddenly a female presence broke the bar cozy atmosphere. Cab’um turned the head.
He reacted in surprise at her sight, opening wide eyes.
Sure, it was not the first time he saw brides of Khaine – this guy had good taste and was rich enough to afford an incredible number of concubines.
Also, he knew that they were impervious to cold, for some reason he would be curious to investigate whenever he would have the leisure.
But there was another surprise… So they do allow women in this pub?

The girl had said something, and she was staring at him. It would have been impolite not to answer. Cab'um replied, even though he had not fully understood the first sentence.
Thank you and be the day good for you too, Zelorda Fmurda'.
Let me see what my colleague smith has achieved.

Cab’um looked at the skulls.
But… nothing has been done on these skulls!
He turned towards the bride of Khaine.
Dear, you’re lucky to have found me. I am the famous smith Cab’um, at your service, ready for the fanciest, the most intriguing metallic artwork that you can dream of.
I’m new to this city, but if you can lead me to a forge, I sure can change this sorry trio of skulls to a magnificent service.

Taking one of the skull, he examined it thoroughly.
Look at the scar on this poor fellow. Sure I can do much better a work than the pitiful attempts done so far.
Indeed. Filling the orbites and sealing the bottom. Adding a lid. Sehr gut! A conical lid with some nice sculpture on top!

Suddenly, he thought about the experiment he was contemplating a few minutes ago.
Hey, you know? The size would be highly appropriate for a new drink that I’d like to experiment. But there is a need for a whip. Do you happen to know where I can find one?

<OOC: I'm doing my weirdest. !eek! >

_________________
Winds never stop blowing, Oceans are borderless. Get a ship and a crew, so the World will be ours! Today the World, tomorrow Nagg! {--|oBrotherhood of the Coast!o|--}


Wed Mar 21, 2012 9:18 pm
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Location: Sat drinking 'soul stealer' cocktails in the city of Vilebrier with Morathi...
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- Name: Khorvax
- Profession: Raven Herald of House Darkeye
- End Location: The stables at the gate of malice
- Equipment: a curved scimitar-like short sword, dagger and repeater handbow with only 2 remaining clips of ammunition. He is clad as a dark rider: a thick midnight blue cloak, hardned leather and scant light armour - dark green/black in appearance. His cowl is a distinctly offset purple-red colour. He carries a pouch that emits a strange fragrance. His dark steed, Moonmane is stabled at the western entrance.

It had been several long days ride for Khorvax since his escorting of Viele Darkeye to Har Ganeth. The steps of success that the once reclusive clan had taken during the past few decades had been unheard of with the prosperity of gold and reputation flowing into the coffers of the now rich family. Hedron and Skaera; the true architects of design and heads of the house had begun migrating the entire cult across the Blackspine Mountains, skirting the dangerous Pits of Zardok and the Red Desert which had seen many of Korvax's rider kindred die as they goaded, hunted and diverted away the giant beasts that would otherwise have attacked the migrating shade clan's numerous members as they marched to settle in a new location, though for what reason, many did not know.

But Khorvax knew. In fact he had, stuffed within his pouch the very reason for their migration and Viele, his lover, had been pivotal to it all.

However for some reason none that seemed to matter any more to Khorvax for the moment. He had spent the past few days contemplating the current turn of events and he had certainly felt pangs of regret that he had not tried harder to deter her from enter into the great temple's coven. It had irked him so much in fact that he pushed his favourite steed Moonmane to the brink of death in the attempt to sooth his anger and frustration by witnessing the pain and suffering of another. However moonmane was not Khorvax's favoured steed for no reason and had endured the agony and bloodied flanks and stoicly carried his master the entire way to Vikarh, where Khorvax hoped to relieve his frustation in some other means.

Khorvax shuddered at the memory and realisation of it all. As he approached the small portcullised gate on the western flank of the town he imagined how things would have been if he had convinced Viele to elope and run away with him. He shook his head wearily, no, she was far too hot headed and stubborn to ever do something like that, even it was all that Khorvax yearned was to return to Ulthuan again and escape the drudgery of Naggaroth. Alas, despite the issues of the dark elves, Khorvax did enjoy the sport and the freedom to do almost whatever the hell he wished - particularly as the captain of the dark riders in the dark eye clan: a position that was highly respected and appreciated, even if it was looked down upon by other, more 'classically' militant families. Khorvax had a job to do in Vikarh and preparations had to be made.

But first he needed a stiff drink and the chance of a fight. Plans could wait.

_________________
The Black Treasures of Naggaroth
The Cult of the Vile Rose History
Death of a Thousand Cuts armylist + batreps TLOEDG (The League of Extraordinary Druchii Gentlemen)


Thu Mar 22, 2012 3:51 pm
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OOC: I cannot sit idly by. :)

IC:
Name: Mako Al'Yrinae
Profession: Sword-for-hire
Stats: WS4 S5 T4 D3 I2
Equipment: light armour, (t)rusty sword, spiky shield
Skills: shield bash (hitting > blocking)
End location: DOCKS

Covered in mud and filth, Mako strolled though the Gate of Chill merely suffering the disgusted glances of the guards stationed there. Coin was scarce, and he was down to his last rations - Mako needed some moolah, fast, if only to feed himself. He passed some slaves and their brutal handler, and didn't want to end up that way. Vikarh was quite a large town; Mako hoped to find some work at the docks and passed by a couple interesting locations along the way.

Upon arriving at the harbour, not knowing who was in charge, he just tapped the first guy he saw on the back.

The **** you want, boy?
...Looking for a job is all...

Mako tries to earn his next meal.

_________________
Vryala Naïlo - WS5 / S5 / T5 / D5 / I4

Equipment: bastard sword of Speed, shield of Defence, repeater (20/20), spear, mace, dagger, Armour of Night, SDC, whip, blowpipe (9/12)
Inventory: amulet of Strength, grapple, grenade x0, smoke x11, map, mage hand, sleep oil x8, cure balms x20, Yori's balms x1, winter gear, old kit, lion mask
Mount: Dark Steed (Blanky), barding, talisman of Protection
Gold: 1735
Skills: Defensive Fighting, Anarin Sarath (2), Basic Ride
Class: Warrior


Thu Mar 22, 2012 8:25 pm
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OOC: Only full-time occupant of Vikhar=least active? I think not *renews efforts*

IC: Name: Illim
Profession: local beastmaster
Equipment: various stabby things, a scourge and some cold-one kibble
End-post location: the auction house bar

Illim took a seat at the bar, ordered something strong and cheap and took a sip. He definitely got what he payed for. As he drank Illim's mind drifted back to the events of the night before and the multiple oaths with diverse deities he was breaking as he drank untill, several minutes later he was brought back to his senses by the bar door banging open. One of the temple's brides stood in the doorway for a moment then came over and asked about a smith. Illim didn't pay the girl much attention, he was not much of a follower of Khaine and the temple rarely ordered anything from him, instead he turned back to the slaver, Sylant, and finally responded to his greeting,
"morning lad, name's Illim and I was looking to buy some of the chattel I saw arriving this morning. Word is they're yours, so here I am. What kinda price d'ya want for 'em?"

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Thu Mar 22, 2012 11:19 pm
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Name: Khelandria Skulltaker
Profession: Bride of Khaine
Location: Auction House bar


The information had been correct; she had found the smith. Khelandria smiled in response, though she couldn't quite understand all of the man's strong accent.

"Zlorda-? Ah, no, my name is Khelandria." She would have offered a hand, but the free one still contained a knife. "Skulltaker." she beamed, as if it that too was normal conversation. She let him hold the skulls and examine them, It seemed the man knew his work, right enough. But she was looking for something more classical, not some kind of beer drinker's Saturday night vessel.

"Oh, I see - no, that's not a smith's work. This was where I decapitated him," she pointed out, helpfully gesturing with a blood-red nail, "and this was where he parried badly. Asur do dodge about so. That's the mark of a crossbow bolt - they only make a small entry hole, but the exit wound can ruin the whole skull if you're not careful - luckily this one exited through his eye. Now this one, he was a Druchii," she turned the favourite with the cut mark to look at it, with a strangely fond air, "and he gave a fine account of himself. If he'd lived I expect he'd have collected a good scar. So in recognition I'm going to have his skull dedicated as an altar vessel. I have some of his finger-bones somewhere too ..."

A quick search had the maibd turn out her bag and a number of small pockets and pouches (even though it wasn't entirely clear how they didn't spoil the line of her outfit), which produced a number of tiny vials of poison, a small piece of courva, several bundles of herbs, some red lipstick and true to her word several pale finger-bones. They were gracile and clearly had belonged to an elegant highborn hand, one unused to boring manual labour. Perhaps preferring the cut and thrust of politics hadn't worked so well after all.

"I'd just be looking for a simple silver mount and the holes to be blocked up - it doesn't need a lid. It will be for offerings at the temple. Which is why it needs to be the finest work possible, of course." In all the searching she hadn't turned out her coin purse; maibd may be crazy, but they're not stupid enough to go flashing money around a low bar. Well, not when they're trying to concentrate on temple business. Well, at least when on unusual temple business. Drunken patrons don't present much od a challenge and, though she could see a number of others who looked like they might, she had to put business before pleasure tonight. Khelandria consoled herself with the thought that Khorne may not care from where the blood flows, but Khaine is a little more particular. The thought that there would be blood soon enough cheered her and her expression brightened once more.

"Yes, I believe there is a forge here, though it's at the other side of town. I can find the way if you think the work would suit. As to where you'd find a whip, perhaps the slavers would have one. or the Beast-handlers? They are more likely to wield one; I'm afraid they don't shed enough blood for my tastes."

"Would you like me to show you to the slave-market? It's not far, in fact you're almost literally right there."
If he was from out of town, she reasoned he might need some directions. Khelandria'd been here long enough to familiarise herself with the town and its defences, but fortunately not long enough to have become twitchy about the lack of bloodshed. Unconsciously, her fingers began to tap out a rhythm on one skull-faced poleyn.

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~ We Never Slept ~


Sun Mar 25, 2012 4:16 am
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Name: Valathorn
Profession: Shadow Warrior
Location: Auction House Bar

Valathorn followed the procession through the gates, having already made sure his position was not near the front but also not right at the back of the caravan. The guards stopped and checked the lead wagon, and then pulled the second and third as well, perhaps looking for unmarked slaves that had not been taxed, or maybe stolen goods or even goods they could seize just because they wanted to. Once they realised it was just a bunch of hungry Druchii travellers who had banded together for protection in the wilds however, they soon lost interest and started letting everyone through with only sweeping glances, whilst talking across the gate. Valathorn slipped through virtually unseen, and then tipped an ear backwards to listen as the guards halted the last wagon and checked it over, ensuring their Captain saw that they were doing their job properly, even if they weren't. It was a simple but clever tactic, and one not even the caravan guards suspected for he had taken up the position weeks ago.

Now inside the town, the Shadow Warrior turned his attention to the next task at hand; breaking off from the caravan without them noticing that he had gone. He very much doubted any of them would care even if they did notice, but he could not risk even one drunk fool calling out to him as the caravan trundelled off out the other side of the town, giving him away. He had already decided to stay in Vikarh for a while, to once again wait somewhere quiet and discreet as long as it took for those who had met him to forget his face. Once the caravan was long gone, he would leave the small harbour town as well, and they too would forget he had ever existed. It made his journey a slow one, indeed it had taken him almost twenty years to get this far into Naggaroth. But he was still alive, and that meant he was successful, at least thus far...

Almost at once, the caravan showed its true Druchii nature. Now faced with the beast pens and the slave pits of the town, the guards pulled out the bodies of those who had died, and dragged forth those who weren't too far behind them as well. The bodies of the dead were sold as Nauglir food, as well as those who could no longer stand, weakened by exhaustion. For those who had a bit more life in them, but would never make it on the next leg of the caravans journey, it was a one way ticket to the slave pens. The terrified men and women were bartered and branded before Valathorn had even slipped away, looking instead to his left at a large tavern, the Iron Gauntlet.

It would be too obvious. Once the caravans horses were fed and watered at the stables, the men would no doubt spend the night there before getting supplies and leaving at first light. Valathorn would have to find somewhere else to spend the night, so he slipped into the shadows of a nearby building, a flesh house no doubt judging by the screams coming from within, and began to move down the road beyond. He passed a food shop and a talisman makers, and then came to another junction. Opposite him was what looked like an auction house, but it was the small crowd within which drew him closer. He peered in the door, and saw that several Druchii mercenaries were seated at a bar off to one side of the room beyond. Slipping his hood up over his face, Valathorn pushed open the door and strolled in.

One identity now ended, Valathorn instantly picked out another and started to act accordingly. He would have to remain unseen by the caravan guards until they left, for there was no way for two of his identities to cross paths without gaining attention. If he continued to be Kaladeth the mercenary whilst in Vikarh however, someone he had been forgotten by at the last few places they had stopped might catch up with him and remember, their memory jogged by a whispered name. The master of masks moved over to the bar and squeezed into a gap besides a blood maiden and her male companion, and a couple of other mercenaries. Now he sensed the need to give off an aura of strength and mystery, not to hide his true skills behind the visage of a weak mercenary. With a bride of Khaine so close, he had to seem like he could hold his own from the word go, in case she tried to later sacrifice him or something.

He sat at the bar and he waited.


Last edited by Kinslayer on Wed Mar 28, 2012 7:37 pm, edited 1 time in total.



Mon Mar 26, 2012 8:18 pm
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Name: Cab’um “Nimby” Smith - Profession: smith & mad scientist.
Equipment: smith’s hammer & strangely bent knives - dirty smith's dress.
End-post location: Auction house bar, preparing to move to the forge.

-=-=-

Next to him at the bar, Sylant the slave merchant had remained... silent.
Was it the liquor making effect?
Or possibly he was looking more for business than for a chat.
A beast master of some sort was sitting the other side. Did he say his name? Illim or kindof.
These two might want to have together some discussions that they wished more private.

A newcomer offered no more conversation and Cab'um paid no attention to him.

-=-=-

The woman who had addressed Cab'um, Zelorda or rather Khelandria, was more willing to talk - and to talk about what the smith loved most, his own work.
While discussing with Khelandria, Cab'um started rubbing his electrum thumb nails with his forefingers, without thinking about it. This twitch denoted usually a high interest and an urge to work with metal. With the stimulation, the electrum shined to the point of glowing.

Making art with skulls was fashionable in the Empire where he had spent a long span of his life. The skull-faced poleyn on the woman's knee was another example of the same source of inspiration.

The woman wanted the skulls to be sealed, and mounted on some kind of silver footing.
Sure I can seal these orbits, let me see...
I can also adjust precious stones inside so that the skull stares at people, even when they move around. Ja, wunderbar.

The socles need to be robust. Pure silver is a beautiful metal but too soft.
I can cover a steel footing with silver rumbustious baroque interlacing. Flowers petals around diamonds, or cute flöglein, ach...small birds in their nest.
A lovely young bride like you don't want a scorpio, a rattlesnake or a spider, do you?



The other bones, however, were not that commonly used and Cab'um had little experience with them.
Let me see these fingerbones.
Too concentrrated to pay any attention to his customer, Cab'um took a couple of them, and rang them next to his ear with a finger snap.
The sound is not really cristalline.
I could try to make some whistles with them but I'm afraid they would be too highly toned and shrilling.

That might annoy either of these two bloke's cattle, two-legged or fanged.

Perhaps, hanging the bones at threads, floating in the wind?
How would you consider a mobile?
The long one here could hold these two other ones below, the resulting clicking sound might not be that loud but I can add a couple of silver little bells.
Sure, that would attract folks.


Only then, Cab'um realized that Khelandria's gaze was not as enthusiastic as he had expected.
Surprising after all the effort he had made, but who can pretend to understand a woman's desire?
If all of this is not enough, tell me what you really want, I can do besser, I mean better.


Then Cab'um recalled that he was still a stranger in this town, with no tool, no raw material.
Yes, I could do all of this, and much more.
But I'm new to town and know not where is the forge.
I would have to arrange with the local smith to use his tools and lend me some material. Silver does not come for cheap.


The urge to manipulate metal was instillating from his thumbs upwards.
Shall we go?

As usual, he had totally forgotten to talk about unimportant details, such as payment.

_________________
Winds never stop blowing, Oceans are borderless. Get a ship and a crew, so the World will be ours! Today the World, tomorrow Nagg! {--|oBrotherhood of the Coast!o|--}


Mon Mar 26, 2012 9:22 pm
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Name : Illirith
Profession : Female Devotee of Khaine
Location : Around the armourer/Auction House
Equipment : Light Armour, Grim Sever, Steel Bender, Bottle of blood for to celebrate the annual Death Night

After the long stroll from the Har Ganeth, Irrilith slowly reached the city of Vikarh, a city between the watchtowers watching the chaos wastes and the narrow passage to the sea of Malice from Kar Karond. Riding atop the Black Steed "borrowed" from the city guards of the noble city. From The mountain top it looked like most Druchii towns, grim, busy and full of warriors, slaves and citizens. In other words, that should be a place for anything less encouraging for others.

Her trusty steed was ordered to advance for the city gates, who were open for one reason or another. Her sword remaining in the scabbard around her waistline, and the shield remaining trustworthy on her back. The city guards appeared to be slacking or at least absent, and proved how back fallen this place was. Druchii society had flourished upon the deaths of many a slave and this city was yet again proof of this statement.

And this was all thanks to their blasmphemous kinsman, the Asur of Ulthuan. But it was all in the past and the Druchii society ever flourishing was awaiting their king to come up with an unbeatable plan for retaking the esteemed promised land. Not many a Druchii have lived to know how Ulthuan looks, how it smells but this might as well be for the best.

Slowly entering the town, Illirith looked around for anything out of the ordinary. But it actually a whole lot different from her home town of Har Ganeth, with the large temple putting it whole in a rather unsettling mood, which was completely absent here. The mood was a bit tense though, as a murder in the east side of the town had accured, and none wanted to know how it happened and why. As she passed the piers, she could see a figure, either bothering a sailor or trying to bargain with one. Either way, if the Druchii mentality was applied, his head might as well end up the same way as the one of that dead fellow.

With a sigh she looked at the two as they continued to talk, not being able to pick up a word of what was said. Tapping the horse to start moving, Illirith continued to look around, before halting before a Druchii citizen, blocking his path in the progress. "Pardon my rudeness, can you tell me what facilities are around here?" she asked using the tone of a noblemen.

"Well, if you promise you don't kill me when I've answered you, you have The Iron Gauntlet Tavern, which is right over there. Right next to us is the Armourer, and after that there is the auction house. The Inn's and Taverns are in the east part of the city, but you don't want to go there."The man answered.

"How come? Doubt thei my skill with a sword, or do you underestimate me for being female?" Her tongue was sharp and not easy to break, as she wrapped her gloved hand around the hilt of her precious sword called Grim sever.

"Ow no, noble lady, I do not do so. It's just that it is the most dangerous part of town, especially during the nights for those crazy enough to wonder these lands at night."

At these words Illirith drew the longsword from its scabbard and held it against the elf's throat. "Ignorant, I've travelled day and night to reach this settlement, for what?! Being called names?! I should behead you where you stand!" She heaved the sword in a diagonal line, ready to strike at the man, before turning the blade around. "Don't let me catch your ignorant words again, peasant!" She sheathed the sword once more before heading to the eastern end of the town. Most dangerous part of town? Must be the place for the slaves and Nauglir, but first, that auction house sounded interesting. Let's hope they got a bar or something cause I ain't opening my bottle before Death Night... just four more days. she thought as she dismounted sooner then expected and turned toward the auction house, not sure whether to enter or head over to the eastern part of town.

_________________
Image

Carathyle Maveric:(Group 28 Warrior)
Ws:5 S:4 T:3 D:4 I:3
Equipment:
Enchanted* Obsidian Long sword, MC Light armour, Dark Steed(Sephirah), Shield, MC Longbow(89 arrows), 56 Circlets, Maibed Dagger, Asur Spear and Disguise.
Age: 89
Skills: Ride, Acrobatics
*Increased Strength, holds the soul of his father


Last edited by Carathyle maveric on Wed Mar 28, 2012 3:04 pm, edited 1 time in total.



Tue Mar 27, 2012 6:01 pm
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Malekith's Personal Guard
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((OOC - Lovely posts, people! Kinslayer - could you edit in your character name, profession/role, and location into your post? Thank you good sir!))

_________________
Casaythe Blackstorm - Warrior (Corsair) - Group 22
Skills: Awareness, Endurance
Equipment: Short Sword, Glaive, Medium Armour, Sea Dragon Cloak, Repeater Crossbow, clip of bolts [11/20], 405 gold, Talisman of Darkness, Tool Kit, 2 months' rations
Stats: WS4, S4, T5, D3, I4

Mod, Group 38


Wed Mar 28, 2012 1:51 pm
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OOC - Have done. Any chance of some NPC action from one of the locals or the bar staff if nobody else will talk to Valathorn?


Wed Mar 28, 2012 7:42 pm
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Name : Khelandria Skulltaker
Profession : Bride of Khaine
Location : Auction House bar. going to Forge


Khelandria's own eyes lit up at the suggestion of inlaid orbits. She hadn't thought of that. Perhaps they could be made to recall the previous owner. She was sure her beloved Lord would find such details pleasing; that or perhaps some kind of rubies. The thought was an intriguing one. The smith did have a few other ideas, but he seemed to be suggesting more a riot of springtime fecundity, or perhaps a ... leafy, flowery, greensward type of theme. This earned him a momentary searching look. Clearly, the fellow hadn't been long in Naggaroth.

"Steel rests and inlaid eyes, those are details that would be most fitting. As for decorations - well, I think it best to keep it to something traditional. I can give you some inscriptions in Druchast: the classics, you know, something like "There is beauty in death" or "Blood for Khaine". Maybe "All Praise Be to the Lord of Murder"." She beamed brightly, much as in another world, a young girl might talk of shoes or shopping. "Scorpions and spiders are all Aspects of Khaine of course - the Scorpion as his hidden, stealthy strike against foes, the Spider Aspect to instill fear - but sometimes the simple things are the best." The young Witch Elf hoped it was true, but if the forge housed a reluctant Druchii then the presence of a Bride tended to remind most Naggarothi of their pious duties.

She gently (but firmly) prised the finger bones from the smith's grasp, noting as she took back her personal trophies that he had electrum thumbnails. Khelandria hadn't really spoken to many smiths, at least not knowingly or for very long. But she knew that this must be unusual, and congratulated herself on finding one with the skill and flair to do the work she needed. It would be fitting to have a fine new chalice for Death Night. The idea distracted her for a moment, her eyes growing misty with the thought of bloodshed, slaughter and re-dedicating herself to her adored Khaine. With a wistful little sigh she tucked the finger-bones away and nodded.

"Some kind of charm you say? A whistle? I suppose I was just wanting to keep them, but a necklace might be a nice idea. I suppose I could have some little bells, but really, keikalla are more for knights."

Khelandria got to her feet with a fluid movement, sweeping a glance over the bar out of habit before focussing and nodding to Cab'um. "There is a forge here, and the Temple will provide materials for your craft. I can lead you to it, though I must confess I know little of forge-work. Perhaps you will be able to negotiate with the smith there?"

Stepping out into the misty street she asked,

"So how did you come to be in the Land of Chill? Has Khaine called you? We do not see many people from foreign lands here." At least, she refrained from adding, not without chains and manacles.

[Leading Cab'um to the forge if this is acceptable :) ]

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RIP Group 28
~ We Never Slept ~


Wed Mar 28, 2012 11:12 pm
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Auction House


Coming up to noon, the sun struggled to shine through the low cloud. Damp clung to Vikarh, the smell of the sea lingering in the air as slowly the place came to life. It seemed that today, the auction house was a hive of activity.

'And next up we have lot number fourteen.' Exclaimed a loud voice from the far end of the auction house. 'One dozen assorted thalken, in their prime and fit for any task.'

Two guards led a party of High Elves out onto the raised dais at the end of the room, where a small crowd of merchants and buyers scrutinised them. The elves were bound by the wrists with iron cuffs and throats with collars, all interconnected with a long chain making it impossible for one of them to make a break for it. There were eight males and four females, all dark haired and pale. They were clothed in rough tunics, and some showed visible welts and bruises on their exposed flesh.

'We've cleaned them up, but these Nagarythe scum will need an experienced hand to break them in.'

As if on queue, one of the males issued a curse and spat at the crowd. His show of defiance was met with a hard blow to the stomach with a guard's spear shaft that brought him to his knees, much to the amusement of the auctioneer who hissed a laugh.

'Let's start the bidding at twelve gold. Do I have any interest?'

The barman chuckled as he polished some pewter goblets and placed them on a shelf. His dark hair was streaked with grey and judging by the scars on his face, he had a few tales to tell. His task complete, he eyed the patrons at the bar, noting that one was sat silently between a Temple maiden and that odd fellow with the strange accent. 'What can I get you?' he asked, his tone carefully neutral.

_________________
Casaythe Blackstorm - Warrior (Corsair) - Group 22
Skills: Awareness, Endurance
Equipment: Short Sword, Glaive, Medium Armour, Sea Dragon Cloak, Repeater Crossbow, clip of bolts [11/20], 405 gold, Talisman of Darkness, Tool Kit, 2 months' rations
Stats: WS4, S4, T5, D3, I4

Mod, Group 38


Thu Mar 29, 2012 8:50 am
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