The Daily Dragon: Journals

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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Seekerthefallen » Sun Mar 09, 2014 1:20 pm

THIS POST IS NOT TO BE KNOWN BY ANY OTHER CHARACTER WITHOUT FINDING OUT ICRLY: This is a Fugitive Post.



"Fugitive!" She had a very surprised and yet calculated expression on her face. Maybe there was a part of her that knew this day would come. "I am not going to bother and ask why or how." Reaching out to gently apply more healing salve to his face. In a few moments all evidence of any wound had gone. "So, here is the deal. Your going to finally agree to my offer. I will swap roles with you. I will return home to our father as you, and you will stay here as me."

"I already told you I'm not-"

"Did I ask you.. or did you decide for once to do this simple task? Your a wanted man, you can use my persona to work on clearing your name. I'm a very respected and beloved member of every circle I am in. You are an under paid actor, that for once has the role of his life." She watched his expression, and then took a drink of her red-wine.

"Fine." He said flatly, and glanced around the plush room of his twin-born sister. "I will do this, and you better get this cleared up. Understand, once your named head of the house. You will come here and free me of this burden."

"What burden? Your going to be doing exactly what you do every day. Only instead of changing roles, your just going to focus on one role. Lady Maethera." That part seemed to make his scowl worse, however he did not comment."Now, come let me get your hair all combed out. It's a mess." Her own hair was a matter of pride and yet, she had mentioned cutting it all off. And trying to make it look like Davious was fleeing with that manner of more manly disguise.

"Fine." He repeated and sat there letting his sister comb the long lengths of his silken blue hair. "I will need you to get me ready, and I will need your personal guard with me. The extra burly one, and one hand-madien."

"Done." She smiled beaming at the joy of winning the battle with him. Now, she had the leverage she needed to go home to the House of Maethera posing as Davious, while he would become her.
"Even if you silence me, My silence will still defy you"-Me

"It's not Lying...It's Neglecting the important parts"-Me

"I'm Not stealing.. I'm borrowing with the intention of not returning."-Me
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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Seekerthefallen » Sun Mar 09, 2014 10:20 pm

The only word that stuck in Adolamin's head as he slinked his way slowly back to the Massalan's villa was "Fugitive!" Adolamin was wearing a servant's outfit (as far as he was concerned!), carrying a loaded basket with bread, eggs and what-not, that was bought in the early hours from the Market (before he usually woke up). Adolamin's mind drifted back to the fighting that happened in the Docks and with the Watch too! Who would of thought the Watch to attack innocent citizens like himself and others! The gual it took to attack two nobles, a Massalan and a Maethera indeed! Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Adolamin slouched his shoulders as instructed by Davious.
It was a good thing that Davious"the Actor" Maethera had some pointers, some added advise to look vague at a glance with passers by on the street, the touch of make-up on his face, well just about everything to help Adolamin get back to the villa alive and not caught by the law! Adolamin sighed, hoping that maybe with him hiding in the villa for a tenday or so, things might calm down for him to move freely about the city. There was so much to do!
Adolamin made it back to the villa with no problems at all, with a sigh of relief, Adol made his way to his bedroom discreetly. The sneaking around the villa, Adolamin had mastered at a young age, especially since he grew up in the villa his whole life.Once in his room, he hid the servant clothes in his chest and put some of his usual attire on the floor in a hap-hazard way, as if being drunk and just wanting the bed to sleep off the spirits. For added touch, Adolamin splashed a little bit of wine on his shirt. Better to have the drunk appearance than all neat and tidy. He set the wine bottle next to the bd and then climbed in, throwing the sheets and blankets over him to hide the daylight from his eyes.Slowly under the cover of his bedsheets, Adolamin started a mental list on what to do to get this mess cleaned up before drifting off to sleep.
"Even if you silence me, My silence will still defy you"-Me

"It's not Lying...It's Neglecting the important parts"-Me

"I'm Not stealing.. I'm borrowing with the intention of not returning."-Me
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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Seekerthefallen » Mon Mar 10, 2014 2:43 pm

Loth'Gar on the Run

Loth'Gar softly padded down the murky alleyway, stepping into something wet and stinking, best left un-investigated. He let out a sigh, ever increasing nowadays it seemed. His back ached from the constant hunching, his heels ached from having to walk silently… worst of all his heart ached and he seemed to be carrying a lot more weight than usual.

He was on the run, one of a band of five accused of murdering a patrol of Watchmen. Well, they weren't accused really, they had done just that. No, he reasoned with himself for the hundredth time, they had acted in self defence against some foul mouthed and exceptionally quick to violence individuals. Thugs in uniform. But why did he still feel like he was wounded, why was his burden so heavy? He paused by some crates, looking around slowly, as one who is maybe drunk or invalid. Seeing nobody, he stood up straight, his back popping once or twice as he reached his full height. Throwing back the hood of his disguise, beggars robes, he wondered how it had come to this. Dressed up as the most desperate or ill of Waterdeep's population, skulking around in alleyways. At least his disguise was good, and the smell and a few coughs were enough to discourage anyone from getting too close. In some quirk of society he never understood, it seemed that people found it easier to ignore beggars or the pretend they weren’t there. Useful at times he supposed. Fortunately his work with the Temple of Ilmater and the orphanage meant that those who were most likely to detect an impostor in their midst would almost certainly keep quiet. They knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't have acted the way he did without good reason, even if they suspected he was the one named in the notices. Better to just lay low and keep out of sight than take any chances.

As he enjoyed standing at his full and considerable height again, he contemplated the possibilities of the nights events. He knew some of the members of the group who had rushed to the sounds of combat, only to find the Watch battling some mysterious assailants and faring badly. A couple of strangers had arrived to, probably to help also he thought. Despite the look of the masked man. Not sure about him. Back on track, they had attempted to aid the Watch, though the nature mage had accidentally snared a few patrolmen to. When reinforcements arrived, instead of gratitude they received only hostility and threats, attacked first and forced to act. This, he supposed, was where things became a little uncertain. He had been forced to decide between surrender and possibly (no, likely he thought) being attacked while defenceless or to stand with his companions and resort to fighting. His heart had warned him something was wrong, that these law officers were somehow not what they seemed and he had believed that. Their equipment was not regulation, their mouths foul (even for a Dock patrol), their timing suspicious and their outright hostility unlike anything he had ever witnessed from what was generally a very competent (if often late) police force. So he had helped battle them, especially the captain, who clearly intended to cut down the well dressed if sinister stranger. He'd blessedly not killed anyone himself, but he was as much to blame when lives were lost as those thrusting the blades.

He shook his head ruefully at that though. He'd considered turning himself in more than once. He'd never betray the others, but he felt that perhaps any punishment they saw fit (hanging most likely) would be what he deserved. There were a few things though that held him back. His nagging doubt about the patrol and what they were doing (though the official account seemed plausible), the fact that they probably were justified in self defence (he winced as he remembered the crossbow bolt burning in his thigh) and perhaps most significantly, the letter. He had to get word to his companions, or partners in crime he thought with a smirk. While it may just be a tip off, his heart was leading him once again to believe there was something more afoot. He had prayed to Ilmater seeking direction. The response he had felt was akin to a warm hand leading someone who had been lost, a feeling of understanding and reassurance. It helped steady him immensely to know that no matter what had happened, he had acted in good faith and his patron deity recognised and accepted this, even if he was proven wrong. Similarly when remembering the frightened and suffering faces of the girls they had rescued, he had found new resolve. Investigation first, if it turned out that this was nothing more than a terrible and tragic misunderstanding, then he resolved he would turn himself in. Maybe even get some of his more needy friends to do it for him, so they could claim the gold and put it to good use…

That made him smile and eased his burden a little. Yes, he would do the right thing, but not until he could say with certainty that he was a guilty party and deserving of punishment. Pushing off from the crates, he bent down almost in two, pulling the smelly hood low and making sure his throat was ready to hack nastily should anyone come too close. With a sigh he continued on his way, looking for his companions so he could pass on his findings. He suspected it wouldn't be easy, but with a network like his he had extraordinary resources to assist in the search. Heart a little lighter, firm of resolve, he made his way out of the stinking alley and into the shadows of a few closely built warehouses. It was going to be another long night.
"Even if you silence me, My silence will still defy you"-Me

"It's not Lying...It's Neglecting the important parts"-Me

"I'm Not stealing.. I'm borrowing with the intention of not returning."-Me
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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Seekerthefallen » Tue Mar 11, 2014 5:27 pm

The night before had turned into a nightmare from Karlist's perspective, it had only taken till he was returning to his apartment under a cloak of invisibility to truly sink in. By the time he reached his door he was constantly looking over his shoulder, expecting to be pounced on by enraged Watchmen, out for vengeance to beat him to a pulp and drag him off in shackles to some dark, dank dungeon cell.

Before his imagination could wander further the hawk perched on his shoulder decided he'd had enough of this inside of his head over their shared empathic link and promptly pecked his human's ear sharply. “Ouuchh!!!” he yelped nearly jumping out of his skin before realizing it was Max and took a long breath to steady his nerves “Alright Max....your right got to stay calm.”

<Calm...and feed me before I pass out from hunger please?>

He managed a chuckle, nodding as he unlocked the door “Okay, okay food for you, but then I need to look something up.” he said as they passed into the small residence and locked the door behind. A few minutes went by as Karlist shuffled around inside fixing a small snack for to hold Max over till breakfast before settling down at his reading desk with his spell book. He knew which page the spell he needed was on and began to flip to it.

Hopefully once he could communicate with the women they'd rescued from the crate they could fill in some of the holes in the very incomplete picture of the night's events? Pausing he went over the details again trying to make sense of what had transpired? This had hardly been his first time dealing with the Watch, the behavior of the 2nd patrol had been far from the norm from his experience. Had they walked into a deal gone bad between those slavers and a group of Watch on the take? Corruption was certainly not unknown within the city's numerous institutions, especially the Watch considering the amount of smuggling operating thru any trade center.

He thanks Mystra they'd managed to take one of the Watch alive, he had some questions for him, that was certain. Quickly plans for the next day began to brew in his head, first off sending Max out to to hear what was the word on the street? It had been night so likely the Watch had no solid IDs of most of them but still best to be careful and prepare a disguise spell just in case a radical change of clothing wasn't enough avoid undo attention?

"Even if you silence me, My silence will still defy you"-Me

"It's not Lying...It's Neglecting the important parts"-Me

"I'm Not stealing.. I'm borrowing with the intention of not returning."-Me
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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Seekerthefallen » Tue Mar 11, 2014 6:55 pm

Well, she had been a little wary of what she'd gotten herself into had the little Hin. Then a couple days had gone past and she'd had time to settle in to the notion, finding it strangely comforting. It certainy wasn't without visible changes, but that defined most of her power so far didn't it? And as she'd said to a friend lately..

"Power is always a better investment than money."

Said while she perused herself in a mirror. Beforehand her offspring had certainly taken their toll on her shape, but now it could gently be desciribed as 'matronly' by people trying not to be slapped in taverns for bringing it up. Ones who were into being slapped had a plethora of other adjectives to choose from. She could -feel- her imp thinking of the entire litany of them from behind that book he was reading in the corner.

"You do realize I know what you're doing behind there anyway?"

..No reply. Well, she could put up with that. Or she could walk out of the room to head out to the town and.. gods, what did she want to do? She felt excellent. Hadn't seen some of her friends in a while either.

"Maybe I'll go look up Loth'Gar, see how he's doing with that ship of his?"
"Even if you silence me, My silence will still defy you"-Me

"It's not Lying...It's Neglecting the important parts"-Me

"I'm Not stealing.. I'm borrowing with the intention of not returning."-Me
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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Seekerthefallen » Thu Mar 13, 2014 7:02 pm

Tahiri looked at the four things on the table in front of her. (Well. Four, but two of them were a pair. Did that make it three?) Some magical, some rare, all somewhat valuable. She'd been wearing most of them for what seemed like all of her time in Waterdeep.

Touching her ears, she wondered if she should leave them to close or go get a simpler pair of studs to keep the holes open. It had surely been enough of a pain getting them pierced to begin with.

But, no matter. Some of the things they'd need soon were more important than jewelry. Scooping them up and adding them to her coinpouch, Tahiri headed down the stairs to go look up Ebelrodd.
"Even if you silence me, My silence will still defy you"-Me

"It's not Lying...It's Neglecting the important parts"-Me

"I'm Not stealing.. I'm borrowing with the intention of not returning."-Me
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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Seekerthefallen » Fri Mar 14, 2014 1:44 pm

With a bit of help from Davious, Parisa changes her looks just enough avoid suspicion from others and without drawing some from those who know her, many at the temple, where she is during the late afternoon...

'You knew better!' The elf mentally berates herself. 'You should have left the humans to run their own city, but no you didn't want to, and now look where you're at.' She sighs, 'What a mess, and that Davious, half-kin, is rather eccentric compared to most. I think maybe it's time for another run outside the city..' She finishes up for the day and packs her stuff.

"Parisa..." one of the temple elders, Ar-tel-quessir, stops her, "Have you heard about the recent attack on the Watch?"

She scowls at the mention of it and replies rapidly in elven, "Of course I have, a thousand gold is no joke and kin involved in attacking the Watch was foolish, makes humans trust us even less, not that I trust them anyway."

The older elf smirks with a bit of understanding and nods in agreement. Besides, that's more he's heard out of the near middle-aged elven woman in almost a year, clearly the events have disturbed her. Like usual he thanks her before she heads out for the evening to wander the city for another ten day.
"Even if you silence me, My silence will still defy you"-Me

"It's not Lying...It's Neglecting the important parts"-Me

"I'm Not stealing.. I'm borrowing with the intention of not returning."-Me
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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Seekerthefallen » Mon Mar 17, 2014 12:44 pm

“It’s a good plan.” He said aloud to himself for the third or fourth time to himself. The task set before him was far from impossible given everything he had managed to accomplish in the past. So why then did he feel like a sliver of ice was working its way down his spine. He stood up and started to pace the floor of the apartments he had rented since his early days in Waterdeep. He smiled at the thought. He had needed someone to split expenses with back then as he was still operating as a Bowyer and had not yet begun adventuring full time. He looked up at the portrait he had commissioned shortly after her first death and grimaced as he realized it failed utterly in capturing the full measure of her presence. Just another in a laundry list of tasks that he had failed at and suddenly he realized the reason for the sliver of ice running down his spine the prospect of failure.

“No…not this time…we will not fail.” He said aloud. He had taken his ego out of the decision making process hadn’t he? He had gone against every instinct he ever had in his decision not to go to the wall in the interest of prudence. He had even chosen not to seek out the aid of the fiend that had offered help in the hopes that his efforts wouldn’t be tainted by the fell works of others as well as in the interest of preserving his own conscious. Yes this task was dangerous and yes this particular task was still slightly self serving in that it could still be considered offensive to the Gods which truth be told appealed to him but it was still the course with the clearest path.

Finally Devdan rose to his feet and ran his hands through his nearly white hair pulling it back into a pony tail and spoke aloud to himself once more “Enough second guessing, trust your instincts the path you have chosen is not safe, nor is it reckless. It is measured and it is possible, you will do this successfully and those that are helping you will return safely.”

He hoped.
"Even if you silence me, My silence will still defy you"-Me

"It's not Lying...It's Neglecting the important parts"-Me

"I'm Not stealing.. I'm borrowing with the intention of not returning."-Me
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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Seekerthefallen » Tue Mar 18, 2014 12:03 pm

Loth'Gar Journal Part 8: Under the Bed…

Up the rope they climbed, towards the slate roof with its many peaks and troughs. In youthful fashion the two hauled themselves up quickly, using hands and feet on the knotted rope to aid their ascent. All around them was quiet and luckily for the pair the fog bank rose high this morning, mostly obscuring them from any casual observers on the street who may glance upwards and see a pair on the far rear of the roof. Now up the rope, Rubin and Loth'Gar look around for a good entry point. They have a rough idea of the layout of the place and elect to head to the closest of the tall windows jutting out of the roof and providing some degree of cover from the street side. They move slowly and cautiously across the slate roof, but despite this Tymora sees fit to remind them how high up they are as feet slide on more than one occasion across the damp and slippery footing.

Reaching the window the pair exchange an uneasy glance, hoping that the view from the window doesn't fall into a bedroom or anywhere that may have an occupant. "On the count of three." Rubin mutters to Loth as tey take up positions either side. "One… two… three!" And they both slip around the edge, balancing precariously on the narrow gutter of the building, in full view of anyone who may elect to look out the window. It would see that fortune favours the brave, as the room the pair look into is dark and cluttered with furniture, wooden boxes, a few trunks and what looks like a small oven in the corner. Too late to go back anyhow, so as they dangle on tip-toes from the narrow footing they plan the next move. "Should we smash it?" Rubin wonders out loud, but a quick shake of his partners head dispels that notion. "Too much noise, not to mention that jagged shards of glass in my leg doesn't sound appealing." Loth replies. "I'll see if we can do this quietly…" and so said he very carefully lets go of the top of the roof with one hand, making sure that his other hand has a good grip and the footing is sound. Trying not to wave his arm too quickly and upset the tenuous centre of gravity, the young half-orc carefully draws his narrow knife from his hip sheath and squatting slightly he slides the blade in between the wooden casing of the window panes. Slowly drawing the blade up, he feels it snag something solid and offers a quick prayer the latch isn't rusted or warped shut…

As it turn out, it is neither of these things. In fact it is satisfyingly easy to slip the blade up and unlatch the window before pushing the thing inwards with just a slight squeak escaping the hinges. Sighing in relief he carefully lifts one foot in, one hand following, then quickly drawing his body inside. Once he rights himself he assists Rubin in with a grateful smile. As he to stands in the storage room (a rather neat one at that) Rubin stretches his fingers and carefully pads around. "Couldn't have held onto that roof much longer. My fingers were going numb." He murmurs as the pair explore. Finding nothing of any interest, they move to the simple wooden door that separates this room from the rest of the bakery. Rubin produces a small vial of oil and gives the hinges a quick does before they gently push the door open, exchanging another nervous glance.

A narrow hallway with a low roof greets them. A single candle burns in a small stone nook, the only light. No problem for a half-orc but Rubin is glad to have the light, little as there is. "So where to? The bakery will be down, but I can't see stairs anywhere.." Loth whispers to his friend. "Only one thing for it." the reply comes. They go left, towards the front of the building. The corridor turns sharply and a couple of foot on there stands a door. A look is answered with a shrug. A dab more oil (just for good measure) and they crack this door open. Beyond the portal lies a sumptuous bed, large, carved and draped with furs and feather pillows. "Wish I had a bed like that." No signs of a stair case, so Rubin turns to leave. "Hold on a minute, lets just take a quick look…" says Loth'Gar as he pushes inside. Rubin can only roll his eyes as he follows, but he secretly wouldn't mind a poke either. An large wardrobe stands against one wall, a painting (rather ugly the pair think), a chest and a night stand. They check the nightstand first. Personal effects mostly, so they slip open the chest. More bric-a-brac there to. Rubin has a look through the wardrobe while Loth loos behind the painting. Nope. "Wait a minute!" Says Loth'Gar, sudden excitement in his hushed tone. Dropping to his knees he lifts the overflowing sheet from the side of the bed. "Mystra's mercy!" The side of the bed is hollow, a small and carefully carved sideboard appears to be removable. So remove it they do, eager to take a look inside. Collectively the pair utter a gasp of wonder at what greets them…
"Even if you silence me, My silence will still defy you"-Me

"It's not Lying...It's Neglecting the important parts"-Me

"I'm Not stealing.. I'm borrowing with the intention of not returning."-Me
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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Seekerthefallen » Fri Mar 21, 2014 9:38 am

He sat cross-legged on the floor staring at the doll and the grave digger's shovel laying in front of him. With both hands folded together and his chin resting on top of his hands, Adolamin thought about the mansion that the items had come from. For such bad things that happened in the place and the foul deeds done inside, Adolamin was glad he wasn't from that family that owned the house before. With the journal's story, it explained a lot of what happened, but it didn't explain anything about the shovel or the doll.
Adolamin picked up the doll and examined the old,worn,somewhat burnt little girl it was suppose to represent. "It's not a pretty thing for a doll that's for sure, but it needs to be put to rest. I feel you need to be blessed,prayed for,or what ever the priests do to put you at a peaceful rest.",all serious like talking to the doll. Adolamin put the doll back in his chest and locked it up for safe keeping. It never hurt to make sure that thing didn't come alive and attack the servants. Adolamin preferred to have a clean bed to fall onto every night after getting drunk at the Grinning Lion! As he headed for the Lion, Adolamin started making a mental list on what to prepare for his solo adventure of putting his twisted doll to rest.
"Even if you silence me, My silence will still defy you"-Me

"It's not Lying...It's Neglecting the important parts"-Me

"I'm Not stealing.. I'm borrowing with the intention of not returning."-Me
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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Seekerthefallen » Fri Mar 21, 2014 5:51 pm

Loth'Gar Journal 9 "A Scrub in the Tub"

In the hollow under the bed rests the sleekest and deadly looking axe Loth'Gar or Rubin have ever seen. Slim and elegant, it looks like it would be as easy to swing as a cooking ladle. The lines speak of something elven; elegant but functional, deadly, slim and beautiful. The smooth, pale wood of the handle looks too slippery to provide any sort of grip, but the wickedly sharp edge that gleams at them suggests this is more than an art piece. "Wow." Rubin says. "Yeah." his young partner mutters in reply. Gingerly Rubin reaches out to the axe, withdrawing it carefully so they can take a closer look. The thing is too long for a hand axe, probably intended to be used two handed, though the polished steel head looks as though it could fit a smaller shaft. There are no fancy carvings, no engraved art, nothing to suggest this axe is anything but a warriors weapons. The beauty comes from the masterful crafting and lines of the thing. Without a word Loth'Gar reaches back in, almost as an afterthought, withdrawing a comparably crude and ugly leather sheath for the axe, as well as a small sack bulging with coins. Handing the sheath to Rubin, he holds the axe while the young acolyte fits the leather harness across his chest. "I wonder how they did that?" Loth wonders aloud, realising that the glass smooth wood of the haft somehow provides an excellently positive grip. Rubin reaches out to take the axe and quickly sheaths it, admiring for a moment how light it feels. "We shouldn't tarry, we need to keep moving. There will be plenty of time for this later." Of course the words are wise, so Loth snaps out of his trance and gets back to business. "A lot of coin we have here. Better leave some for the man. A little justice, not to ruin him and his business. I've no doubt he'll make this back in a few months." So said Loth'Gar slips about a quarter of the coin out of the sack and onto the bed. The axe is a prize too fine for this nasty man, they remind themselves, just a hint of remorse at their actions filtering through. Still, this is nothing the man didn't have coming to him for many years they remind themselves.

Out of the bedroom they go, a little more haste in their actions. Slipping back down the sharply turning corridor they return to the storage room door where they first started. "Right it is them." Loth bows, signalling Rubin to take the lead. Around another corner they go, a door presenting itself on the left with the hallway ending a few feet beyond. Pacing down the corridor, the pair freeze in unison. From within the room on the left they hear the sounds of splashing water and gentle a gentle bump. They exchange glances, unsure of the next move. The trapdoor they sought is right there but a few feet away. In the end young curiosity wins out and once again the tiny oil canister is removed and applied to the hinges. The door seems to be without lock so they push it forward and in ever so slowly. Without a sound a crack a fingers width opens before their eyes, enough to survey the scene beyond. A large brass tub sends clouds of steam wisping towards the low ceiling. A simple wooden cabinet nearby, and in the tub one giant of a man unclad with a very hairy back turned their way. He splashes and scrubs daintily with a delicate looking bath brush in one hand, the head reflecting shining pearl inlay. The sight causes the two to almost burst out laughing, so comical does it seem to them. Stifling their giggles but still shaking with silent laughter, they ease the door closed, eyes lit with merriment at the gruff bear of a man bathing like a woman of high society. That’s a tale for the fire tonight!

Knowing that they will have a while longer to complete their mission, the would be burglars move over to the trapdoor, applying more oil and lifting the heavy wooden portal back on it's hinges. As it rests open, they look below. A stone walled hatch and some narrow and steep wooden steps leading down to the ground floor. "Surprised he can fit down these." Loth'Gar mutters to Rubin as they slowly and carefully descend the stairs, hoping the old wood won't squeak and alert anyone who may be listening. No one should be working just yet, but caution is the best part of valour. It comes as a huge surprise to them then when the trapdoor above, left balanced open decides to come crashing down behind them with a boom! "Boils on Beshaba's bum!" They swear in unison. Looks like things are about to get interesting…
"Even if you silence me, My silence will still defy you"-Me

"It's not Lying...It's Neglecting the important parts"-Me

"I'm Not stealing.. I'm borrowing with the intention of not returning."-Me
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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Seekerthefallen » Sat Mar 22, 2014 4:33 pm

She had it. The Hin was holding her.. well, it wasn't a masterpiece, but it was the start of something beautiful. The rod was about a foot and a half long (half the height of the Hin herself) and made of blue veined marble, topped with what appeared to be the skull of a songbird. She and her friend had spent two nights working on coaxing the marble into harboring the right matrices of power to augment energy forced through it, and now? Now a streak of hot pink light fired a good two hundred and fifty feet into the air by Ziandra's workshop. Straight upward, slicing the night sky in half.

Seraphina looked upon what had been wrought, and she was pleased.

The pink dimpled destroyer then declared: "Excellent. Now where were those tarts?"

They were in the basket beside her and Ziandra of course, meaning she did not have far to go to begin celebrating. Just had to let gravity do it's work and bring her plump bottom into contact with the ground.

"Now that I know this kind of thing works I can really start letting myself get ideas.."
"Even if you silence me, My silence will still defy you"-Me

"It's not Lying...It's Neglecting the important parts"-Me

"I'm Not stealing.. I'm borrowing with the intention of not returning."-Me
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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Seekerthefallen » Sat Mar 22, 2014 5:51 pm

She stoked at the fire with an idle sort of boredom. Occasionally picking up the stick to look at the charred tip. When it yielded a hot enough core it was pressed into a bit of leather. Working to leave a dappled appearance on the surface.

It was really more of a passing the time exercise to clear her mind. Working in the flesh of a tanned hide, that was not her trade. Still, there was practical ways of doing anything with even the remote amount of practice.

Her hands, were such a contrast of hues. The leather was supple and rich in an almost natural skin color. She was not so fortunate to bare that, no her skin was dusky gray with the slightest tint of purple at the edges. Even with the elven blood, there was strong traces there that could not be changed.

Eyes narrow through the strong smoke and smells. It was an intoxicating brew that was bubbling in front of her. Not a stew, not a meal or liquid to cure the aliment of the city. It was something to relax her, thick and musky. Anyone else who had never been treated to it, would likely find themselves overwhelmed and almost high. Lost to though, illusion and clouds.

It was fine for her, and even the few creatures that came around here. Always with a wound, or sickness she was quick to clear away. The forest had long given thanks to their strange dual-bloodied healer. She might have been born in a savage land, but her she appeared as gentle as the breeze that tickled the flowers.

Those of the forest, come as well. Druids, she'd seen them out there a few times. Maybe they were curious, or worried. One of them passed by and stopped in for a meal. A fiery sort of person, and then there was cold folks as well. She saw the tall-cold madam at the river twice.

The only visitor that always mattered was Devon. Though, the lives they had separately were at times like long distance worlds. He did come and those were short sweet times. Glancing towards the flap that made out her doorway.

Rising up, she stretched out her nearly bare form. The jingling adornments bounced of taunt flesh and she headed for the flap. "Zane.." She muttered in Orc, hearing the rothe flop around so close to tent. Could topple the whole thing to easily. Pushing open the flap she stepped out. Wasn't quite the visitor she expected. "Hello again."

The druid greeted her with a smile. The half blooded was not much different then she was. Only they are opposite in look. One was an orc with an elven flare and the other was an elf with an brutes smirk. "You here for another ..little wound?" Speaking the orcish still.

The eleven druid only smirked and held up her arm. It had been harmed. She spoke back in the worst orc attempt. "..bleed we..bleed."

Forcing out the only eleven she really knew. "..we bleed..we bleed." Inviting the elven woman inside. She liked having a strange friend. It was always interesting company to speak to someone that barely understood each other.

"Even if you silence me, My silence will still defy you"-Me

"It's not Lying...It's Neglecting the important parts"-Me

"I'm Not stealing.. I'm borrowing with the intention of not returning."-Me
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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Seekerthefallen » Fri Mar 28, 2014 8:54 pm

What a night.. The human lad had been having quite a time playing cards and then that strange elf had wandered in and played his mark for money owed. Ugly mess, but a nice game or two left in it. He'd played one more hand, then one more game, and now he expected the poor sod would never be seen again. Which left Red standing outside the doorway of the man's home as he helped usher his family out to flee before that fellow's goonies showed up.

That had been ten minutes ago that he'd seen them flee the place on just a moment's notice-

Ten minutes through looting the household. He'd found a couple pieces of old jewelry that might fetch something decent, a pouch of coin, but he figured they made off with the rest..

"Well, I tried to rush them, but a rushed job is a botched one.. I should have at least another five minutes."

He hoped, anyway. The nimble fingered lad was stowing a silver tea set in his satchel (now quite satisfactorily full) when the loud knocking and shouting at the door came up. Meaning it was high time he got the hell out of there. Easy, right? Just find a corner to sink into like the cradling arms of family, and spill out from a shadow in his room at the playhouse.
"Even if you silence me, My silence will still defy you"-Me

"It's not Lying...It's Neglecting the important parts"-Me

"I'm Not stealing.. I'm borrowing with the intention of not returning."-Me
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Posts: 837
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Re: The Daily Dragon: Journals

Postby Seekerthefallen » Sun Mar 30, 2014 1:18 pm

Loth'Gar Journal Part 10; I Quit!

"BOOM!" As soon as the trapdoor slammed shut with a deafening crash behind the pair of would be thieves, they knew the clock had started ticking. Already the could hear the rumble of someone shouting from upstairs, the baker they knew. A few dull thumps accompanied the shouts, muffled by the distance and the stone around them, but the image of a soapy and thoroughly angry bear of a man charging their way to spill blood was foremost on their minds. "Hurry! We need to get out of here!" Rubin shouted in a voice only betraying the slightest hint of panic. Taking the final few stairs in the narrow shaft at a leap, they landed in wider passageway, a couple of doors to the left and one at the end of the way. They had an idea of where the front of the building and eventual freedom should lie, but by the gods the panic flooding their minds evaporated any shreds of the careful planning that had accompanied the beginnings of the theft.

Darting down the passage, Loth'Gar yanked the first door that they reached, not caring on bit as it squeaked noisily at the sudden tug. Inside was a well stocked and cool pantry, neatly organised, bags of flour, a grain barrel, water, what looked like seasoning… even the wheels of cheese held little interest. Next door. They continued to the second portal, yanking on this one with equal haste. Locked. "Damn it to the Hells!" swore Loth'Gar. "Do we keep on or try and get in??" He asked, imagining the baker now flying down the stairs with a massive rolling pin in hand, ready to club the pair into a bloody pulp. "Keep on, try the last door!" so the sprang the last few feet down the passage and heaved on the door. Blessed Tymora, this one came open effortlessly on well oiled hinges without resistance. A good, well made door, for it wasn't until they had it open that the smell of delicious baking goods hit them. A bleary eyed bakers apprentice looked up from a large pie she was about to shovel into an open oven for the long cook before morning light. "Uh." She blinked that the pair, who grinned and paused to wave. "Bread's over there, some sweets in that cupboard." she added helpfully after a awkward moment. "Don't let him catch you or he'll beat you black and blue… or worse." She scurried over to a small nook, grabbing an empty flour sack and proceeded stuffing whatever was at hand into it. "Quick, before he gets down! I thought that noise was him in a right mood. considered leaving, I've had enough of this place and the bakery on Swift River street are looking to take on new apprentice soon." She added. Loth'Gar and Rubin exchanged a look and began hastily to fill the sacks they had bought along with the food stuffs the apprentice had indicated earlier. As they went the apprentice heaved a large metal pot in front of the rear door, the metal squealing as it dragged across the cobbles. Grabbing a couple of cold pies, she handed the bulging flour sack to Rubin. "Well, I hearby quit. good luck, gods speed you. Follow as swift as you can now!" And with that the early (even earlier than most bakers) shift quit, running out a thick door banded with iron and into the chill night, pies in each hand.

"Well I never." Loth'Gar shook his head at the absurdity of the situation. A sudden thump and proceeding clatter dragged him back to the here and now. "That must be the trapdoor! Quick, he's almost upon us!" shouted Rubin, grabbing a nearly intact wheel of cheese under one arm and hightailing it to the door. With a last look around, two bulging sacks under each arm, his companion in crime followed into the night. Just in time to it would seem. From behind him he heard the scrape of metal on the stone tiles, a clatter as the pot tipped and rolled. Head down, he sprinted for the entrance and the night. A whistle and 'THUNK'! as something metallic and shining whizzes past his head and embeds into the door frame. A mere whisker from his head, it seems Tymora is owed some coins this night. "Stop THIEVES!" a monstrously loud voice behind the pair screams, causing them to wince at the sheer volume the mans lungs are capable of producing. Off into the night they sprint, leaving the bakery and its enraged owner far behind as their long legs and youthful lungs carry them into the mist and from street to street.

Over the next couple of days word spreads in the district of two dashing adventures stealing the ill gotten hoard of one nasty baker. It seems that all of a sudden the local street urchins, previously poor and malnourished seem to be sporting the tastiest pies, sweet breads, rolls and cakes to be found. The people laugh; oh how the tables turn! Of course the baker calms down in a within the week and the place, now freshly staffed begins to churn out the treats that bring people from all around. It seems that now the prices are a little lower, the owner not so mean. What could have changed? It's almost as though the theft was taken as a warning to the man to be a betetr person, a reminder of what he had to lose. Rubin and Loth'Gar share a smile when they hear the people speculate.
"Even if you silence me, My silence will still defy you"-Me

"It's not Lying...It's Neglecting the important parts"-Me

"I'm Not stealing.. I'm borrowing with the intention of not returning."-Me
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Seekerthefallen
 
Posts: 837
Joined: Sun Feb 06, 2011 11:14 pm
Location: USA-CAli

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