The Outpost RP. Fantasy Medieval Setting. S01E02 : Caravans and Goblin Hookers

[Iron]

(The other thread:
http://www.escapistmagazine.com/forums/read/540.874811-The-Outpost-Fantasy-Medieval-Setting
The game is open to everybody. Information is inside the other thread. You need to have your character accepted before jumping into the game. You can submit and play more than one character.)

[HEADING=2]The Outpost[/HEADING]

The Beggar?s Banquet

?Pursiad whore?, murmured Gan under his breath when a skinny lowlander ***** came passing through his alley with a tome big enough to knock a man some sense in this piss-stained end of the world excuse for a town. He followed her curves with his eyes through her thick robes and imagined what it would have been like if it had been six months ago and he still had his crew together. His shoulder-blades stabbed him and his back cracked with every little movement of his filthy arse as he tried to find the sweet-spot with the least amount of agony. It still hurt like hell, but at least he thought it hurt a bit less. It comforted him more than nursing a half-empty bottle of moonshine made from Dridge piss, but it didn't stop him from drinking that poison. He used to be someone, back then, way before he and his crew took the wrong contract.

Heavy footsteps came from the other end of the alley and a thick man barely squeezed his shoulders through the crack. ?He has no business there?, Gan winced at the pain in his joints when he tried to move his wrangled left leg. He pulled himself up, his heart banging with a set of drums in his ears, grunting with the effort. There was only one reason why such a big thug would come through that alleyway, and that reason was going to split and get the hell out before it finds out an explanation.

That had been the plan before Gan felt a big hand squeeze his left shoulder and send jolts of pain up and down his spine. Once he could have split that fucker in half with his axe, but those times were over. He had horns sticking out of his head and scraping the brick walls, leaving a long mark over from where he came in the alley. His nostrils flared up in that pig-nose of his and a stream of hot air from his bowels warmed Gan?s face. A minotaur, though he couldn't guess from where, but that interested him the least while he was dangling from his clutches. A series of images flashed in his mind depicting the various creative ways of his murder, most of which he had tried and tested before himself. His old debts must have caught to him, or some old geezer with a grudge, though he doubted anyone he ran in a crew with would survive him.

?You hungry?? it spoke in a squeaky, high tone, which nearly sent Gan to tears if it wasn't for his impending doom. The minotaur shook him in the air and he shook like a leaf in the wind, plus the snapping and crackling noises of a hell-hound snacking on a witch. The minotaur noticed the sounds, gave him another gentle push and pursed his lips, as if he was working hard to connect the two together and realize how his beggar was so broken. ?You is invited to the banquet?, the minotaur spoke with some difficulty, ?at the guild?.

Gan's eyes lit up with relief. He heard about the beggar's banquet, mostly rumors, but it meant he had a chance of redemption. No more sleeping in gutters, showering in piss and bending over to that half-dog mountain-dweller down the street for a cold, moldy meal. He was chosen for the banquet, and for once in a long time he could feel a warm sense of joy enveloping him. It was a welcome change from the warm piss he had gotten used to already.

[hr]2[/hr]

In the beginning of every winter, the high-pass closes and the last of the wagons and adventurers come through to the outpost. A great celebration occurs, in which the entire city?s residents go through an involuntary census, the supplies and goods are noted and the days since are counted. The beggar?s banquet, a new event for all of the adventurers of the outpost, since those who had witnessed the previous are either dead, missing or back to what shithole they came from. Very few stay in the outpost, and those that do tend to set-up shop and let the newbies risk their neck for fairy-bone powder. The beggars that litter the city through the year are all rounded up and sent to the great hall of the guild, one of the few brick buildings in the outpost. They fatten them up, get them drunk, tell them lies sweeter than honey and promise them the world - and then they let them at each other?s throats, with the promise of escape to the victor. The hall is set ablaze, and all that dwell inside get incinerated. That is how the outpost deals with leeches. They squish them.

The story begins during the celebrations of the first day of the count. From here on, nothing - and nobody, enters or leaves the outpost. You?re all on your own, with hundreds of cutthroat mercenaries to keep you company.

[hr]2[/hr]

Day One. The Beggar?s Banquet.

 

[Mr.Ivebeenframed]

Zenobia watched as her breath left her mouth like from a furnace. The Ayadine native was certainly not used to the cold despite five years of wandering the lands for elusive beasts. She had been north enough to face the wargs of the Silver Falls but this air was as different as the city ahead of her, if she could call it a city. This city was the equivalent to Ayadine's cesspools if she had to be kind in describing the city as she entered the rancid streets. Zenobia was not one of high tastes but she certainly didn't like the fact there were beasts defecating in the streets or people dumping their rubbish piles right on top of already growing waste piles. Zeonbia could deal with blood but waste was another matter as she tried to focus on the task at hand. Although the mountains ahead of her could be barely seen, she saw its peaks poking out on the horizon. She felt inspired by the sight and felt even more focused. That is until an elderly woman tossed her waste from a pail, splattering something unrecognizable in front of her. The smell was unbearable so Zenobia continued, trying to find a tavern or some other place to inquire about the town.

What an odd place... Zenobia thought to herself as she made her way through the small city. There were races from all the realms at least the ones she knew. What struck her though is that most of them were armed to the teeth. She passed an orc who had grafted two blades onto the stumps of his hands. The orc snarled at her as Zenobia walked by but she could only notice an open wound the orc had on this arm. It was a small nick in general but the smell of blood made her wrist itch. She stopped herself from scratching the familiar itch as she usually did when she saw blood. She breathed in calmly, focused but quick inhales to clear her mind. Blood was what she here for and nothing else. She murmured a quick prayer to Eno the deeper she went into the city.

Eno... you see and you give...you sacrifice and you create...you defend and mold...I behold you... Zenobia whispered to herself before she caught sight of a tavern. She made her way towards it without a second thought. Zenobia wasn't much for ale but she was quite privy to gossip or information to help in her quest. Zenobia glanced at the sign outside, mouthing the words "Morning Stars". A carving of a satyr with a literal morning star in one hand and a mug in the other was displayed above the name although the sign had seen better times. She entered the tavern carefully, a quick entry usually alerted the whole bar to her presence so she opened the door and peeked in first. The tavern was somewhat filled with the local residents. There was a dice game attracting the most attention from the customers so in between the cheers and curses, she made her way inside. A one-eyed, overweight satyr greeted her with a welcoming stare although welcoming for the creature was a scowl.

"Greetings. I'll have what they are having..." Zenobia pointed to the rowdy crowd of humans roaring over a pair of dice. If what they were having was distracting them from the world outside, then it was something worth having. The satyr nodded and delivered her the drink. Zenobia sniffed the drink carefully but it smelled like the embalming liquid that the priests in Ayadine would use on corpses. Not wanting to be disrespectful and because she didn't know any better, Zenobia took a sip which she immediately regretted as the drink tasted like something that would kill her if she took a full swig. Zenobia visually recoiled and the satyr gave a toothy grin.

"Anything else, outsider?" The satyr finally said. "Here for the Banquet?"

"W-what banquet?" Zenobia said, recovering from the drink. "Is there royalty here?"

"Royalty? Here?" The satyr chuckled and nodded his head. "No king would come to this varmint hole. This place only attracts sell swords, brigands, thieves and lunatics. You seem to be a lunatic so I think the Banquet would be right for you."

"I am no lunatic." Zenobia snapped back. "And what is this banquet you keep mentioning?"

"Why its a feast that the guild sponsors." The satyr said unflinchingly. "Completely free of charge, I must add. Its the city's way of... paying back to the community. You might fancy it since that's where you get in contact with the guild."

"The guild?" Zenobia asked curiously.

"They're the only ones that organize all the sell swords, brigands, thieves and lunatics I said earlier." The satyr said, nonchalantly spit-shining mugs. "All sorts of ugly monstrosities start to come around this time and the guild pays people handsomely for the chance to-"

"Wait, what kind of beasts?" Zenobia cut in, enticed by what the bartender said.

"Well, only beasts and abominations local to this area. Fearsome things but quite rare to find around anywhere else. They seem to be drawn to this place like sailors to a brothe-"

"I get it." Zenobia rolled her eyes, taking another sip and regretting it once more. "Where is the Banquet?"

"Just down the street. Impossible to miss it." The bar tender grinned, showing off his blackened and rotting teeth. Not wanting to overstay her welcome, she paid for the drink and went out the door. Zenobia faintly heard the satyr laugh a wheezy laugh on her way out. She didn't know what it mean but she ignored it and made her way there in a flash.

 

[booksv3]

Desaya walked past one of the run down buildings and gives it a look of annoyance. The run down nature of almost this whole outpost was starting to wear on her and even if she wanted to leave she know the passes were snowed in and she was stuck. Sidestepping a pile of refuse that had been left and slapping at a child who had gotten close enough top touch her she can feel two of her claws make contact and scratch the arm before it ran off, more it than any gender because of the dirt and grime caked onto it.

Wiping her blood tipped claws on her dark robe she shakes her head and walks into a tavern, not really looking for something to eat yet Desaya just wanted to get out of the stink of the road. Not pausing when she walks in she passes the tables who had gone silent when the dark robed cat headed person had walked in she steps to the counter and sits on one of the stools there, saying at the tender half way down it in a voice that doesn't raise above a soft tone.
"Milk and meat."

The bartender looks at her and rolls his eyes, stepping away as one of the tables behind her laughs and comments on the overgrown cat who thought she was human. Desaya smiles slightly and waits for her food to come, looking up when the bartender comes back but keeps hold of her food looking down at her expectantly. Sighing and lifting her hand she sets a small coin down on the table, the click just barely audible. He grunts again and drops the plate and cup on the counter, picking up the coin as he walks away, one of the tables behind her still silent she can hear one of the chairs push back and the light stepping person walks towards her. As she lifts the cup and sips the milk her eyes slide over to the side as someone drops into the seat next to her playing with a knife. Keeping one eye on the person who had just sat down and lifting the meat she takes a bite from the side without worrying about a knife or fork, letting it back down as the thin but much scard man next to her says in a quiet voice as the knife drops under the edge of the counter.
"Now just be a good kitty and hand over whatever money you have and whatever else your hiding and i might just let you walk out of here."

Desaya sighs again, taking another sip of milk before setting it down and sliding her hands in her sleeves, looking over more towards the man who held his knife under the counter in a poor grip. Letting her hand move in her sleeve she says to the man in the same tone and level she had the bartender.
"Walk away not before i kill you for trying to ruin my meal."

The man next to her laughs and looks back at his friends before turning back and trying to stab her in the side, the knife almost touching her robe before her hand slaps out and grabs his wrist. Desaya saying to him.
"You are slow, you would make a poor undead."
Her hand lighting up slightly with a pale green and blue light before sinking into his arm making him stiffen and try to jerk away. The skin where she had been holding blackened he stumbles away and fall to the ground. Stepping off her stool and over to him Desaya takes the knife he had been holding and lifts the mans head slightly before slitting his throat and leaving him to bleed out on the floor, taking the time to take his sheath off and sliding it onto her own belt. Going back to her seat she lifts the cup and drains the rest of the milk as two of the three tables gets up and quickly leaves, leaving half finishes mugs of liquid and food on the tables in their haste.

Seconds after they leave someone else walks in, their steps heavy and ponderous it makes Desaya look behind her and blink at the massive human who had stepped in. The mass and muscles on this one dozens of times more than any other she had seen in this outpost, obviously well fed and someone who keeps himself in shape, the sword on his side just as worn as his clothes but just as obviously as kept for as his body. As he walks over to almost right behind her Desaya starts to form another spell in her hands but stops when he caughs and says in a unatually high pitched voice.
"Did you kill this man?"

Turning around again Desaya looks at the muscle man who had squatted down next to the skinny would be thief and had lifted him by his hair to look at the cut on his neck but was now looking up at Desaya. Thinking it over for a second she nods slightly.
"Yes, he tried to rob me and ignored my warning."

The muscle man looks back down at the dead one and drops him back to the floor, standing and brushing his knees and hands off as he looks Desaya over slowly and a smile comes to his face. Bowing slightly he keeps the smile that doesnt reach his eyes. Saying to the still seated woman.
"Seeing as you took care of him his offer will be given to you. You are invited to the beggers banquet tonight at the end of this road in the brick Guild house. The food and drink are free and there is entertainment at the end of the evening."

Desaya looks at the muscle man blankly as he gives his offer, the way and how he is acting so out of place as well as the invitation making her blank for a few seconds before nodding slowly.
"Ok... I can come to it i guess, i do not have anything else to be doing tonight."

Nodding again and turning to go the muscle man stops at the door to look back at Desaya, saying with a laugh.
"I hope you have a roaring good time tonight, full of burning passion."

Walking away laughing Desaya blinks again at the weird phrase and shakes her head as she stands and walks out, the meat left behind as she rises to figure out what that was about. Pausing half outside the door she walks back and smiles at the bartender slightly and raises a hand over the body. This time taking her time she closes her eyes and lets the magic gather in her hand before dropping it into the corpse under her and stepping back. Seconds tick past with so far nothing before she smiles and turns away, saying to her back.
"Get up, and follow."

For a second nothing happened. Then the body behind her slowly lifts itself up onto its hands and then to its feet, the cut on its neck seeming to disappear as its head comes forward the blood does not. After another second looking at the now white as a sheet bartender the Zombie follows Desaya out the door and down the street towards the brick building, its form a little jerking but smooth enough. Even the blood on it mostly ignored by the passerby's because of where they are.

Spoiler: Spells used

Harm person-level two
Raise dead[human zombie]-level three

 

[Iron]

Square One

Zenobia found herself at Square One. That is to say, the very beginning of her journey in the outpost. Square one was the first center of the outpost and aptly named ?the square? at the time of the town?s conception. It had since changed its name to ?Square One?, which hints at it significance - it was situated between the Adventurer?s Guild, the Shops district, the Governor?s Mansion and ?The Old Hag? Tavern, which later gave way to an entire maze of taverns and brothels in a packed spot nicknamed ?the three points?.

SO became the starting place for every new adventurer that came through the high-pass to the outpost, and at first was the first thing that greeted a newcomer that came by the main-street. That was before the city?s population boom, and the squalor that followed forced construction up to the very gates of the high-pass. An adventurer that comes to register at the SO would have already proved themselves eligible to fight if she had passed through the gate?s slums unmolested.

The slums gave way to the bloody practice of the Beggar?s Banquet, and that evening marked the beginning of the count to the next season.There were only two seasons in the outpost that mattered - Closed, and Open, and tonight marked that change. Seven wooden stalls situated right in front of the Adventurer's Guild choked the main entrance to the four-storied brick building which was the tallest in the outpost. Men in matching uniforms paraded around the square with the intent to keep order. They were wearing mail shirts underneath their leather vests with the symbol of the Guild painted on their backs, A black shield in the middle, a scepter and sword crossed behind it, and an open book underneath. These guards hailed from all corners of the world, and were seasoned veterans of the outpost. Only those that survived a full count were hired to protect the outpost?s most important building.
Each stall has some writing on top of it, most of which was in the common tongue, while some were in foreign gibberish. They were the Seven tongues of the civilized world, and if you didn?t know one you were a savage. They were manned by the Guild?s lowly apprentices, the most hated and reviled profession in all of the outpost - a bureaucrat. Street performers played tunes to the crowds walking through the square and hoped a few chipped coins would get tossed their way. Many of them were once mighty warriors and warlocks but now reduced to bards with a penchant for staying alive and not enough coin to get the fuck out of the hellhole they were stuck at. They should be applauded for their persistence at the very least, since they were outside of the main hall in the Beggar?s Banquet and not inside for the main course. Merchants stuck their heads out of alleyways and windows, pushed back from their traditional spot at the square by the Guild?s guards. They were selling all kinds of overpriced goods: weapons and armor, alchemy potions and ingredients, cheese wheels and lucky charms. Guild apprentices were moving through every stall, noting down names and stocks, some of which were escorted by foul looking guards.

Registration was essential for what came next after the celebrations of the beggar?s banquet - work had to be done, nasty type of work, and only those crews that were recognized could take up a job and get rewarded. Registration came with its perks, like a free cup-cake at your birthday, but it also cost you a considerable fee. That was the situation in the outpost - with everything you could have in the world limited to just one measly town, somebody, somewhere, is going to jack up the prices. Even for writing your name on a piece of paper and allowing you to work.

[hr]2[/hr]

Desaya was invited to the Beggar?s Banquet - the celebration at the beginning of each count. The Guild?s guard, a massive minotaur with passable language skills was called to the scene by a small band of fleeing nobodies. There wasn?t any disturbances allowed in the city, and the guards core was quick to respond to any allegations of misconduct with swift justice for the outpost?s citizens.

Tonight was the only time of year the town put on a nice face and let you have at it - free food, drink, lively music and the occasional friendly street-brawl resulting in a missing limb were a welcome change in the dreary town. There was, of course, the registration itself, for which everyone was obliged to take part. Today marked the first of the count, and the last day that the high-pass could remain open. It was also the last day for you to get out, cash in your chips and run away with your tail between your legs. Desaya would have none of that.

Those that could not register were faced with three options - either their fee was covered by a crew-member or they were hired by the guild as a mortician. A mortician was a name for the jack-of-all-trades labor that the Adventurer?s Guild employed. They were responsible for menial tasks, most of which revolved around digging graves, incinerating bodies and putting others in jars of pickles. The third option involved a feast and a barbecue afterwards - and as the fires burn through the great hall of the adventurer?s guild, the poor bastards who couldn?t afford a license and half-a-brain would realize what the town does to those that cannot afford to fight the good fight. If they can?t defend themselves, they can?t defend the outpost from what was waiting outside.

 

[booksv3]

Desaya walks through the street with her zombie following her, the people going the other way away from Square one. Walking past a group and looking back she orders her following zombie as it starts to wander towards the group.
"Follow me, and don't get into any fights."

The zombie thief makes a grumbling noise but goes back to following Desaya and keeping close to her back as he makes grunting noises and eyes everyone that walks by. Walking into Square one and looking around she looks for the place to register for this thing. Not wanting to leave and not wanting to risk being picked up by someone else in the way she had heard had happened to others. Walking past another group and ignoring the people around her staring with either wide or narrowed eyes she steps up to one of the stalls with the word register in southern common. Stepping up past someone who had a week lower body she gives them a sharp toothed smile making them take a step back before as Desaya goes back to the person sitting behind the stall and leans against the table.
"I'm here to register."

The tired looking human looks up and pushes a small tablet over to her saying in an almost singsong manner.
"Name, job, referral, next of kin."

Raising an eyebrow and lifting the tablet she takes the offered nib and starts filling it out as the zombie next to her starts grunting even more and takes a step closer to the person Desaya had pushed out of the way. Reaching over she bats the zombie in the chest and says.
"Don't"

Name: Desaya.
Job: Spiritual adviser and contact.
Referral: Minotaur guard.
Next of kin: None.

Dropping the tablet back onto the table and looking down at the person waiting Desaya waits as the tablet is given to someone else and the man behind the counter holds out his hand.
"2 silver."

Frowning and pulling her last two silver out she drops it on the mans hand and turns to walk away when the man behind her half stands and chokes out a yell.
"Hey! He has to pay to!"

Turning back slowly Desaya smiles slowly and looks at the zombie before going back to the man and raises an eyebrow.
"Why? he is already dead."

Staring at her wide eyed and sitting down slowly the man chokes and stares after Desaya as she walks away. Looking around for anyone else who is not just a weaklimbed idiot.

 

[suspicious guard]

"...But to properly appreciate the Rite of Dismemberment, you have to be familiar with the Revised 48 Commandments of Flagellation (Canticles 4:15-80) which are helpfully listed in order of physical cleansing..."

The guard's eyes had glazed over long ago. The answer to his original question ("Oi, what's with the necklace?") had taken up a little over half an hour, and the freak in the hood clearly wasn't about to finish his sermon any time soon. Typical, this was the one day where he had to be nice to the guy.

Yannick chattered on as they worked their way into the middle of Square One. As a representative of the Order of Tzarpedon (Church of Blandsmouth and Upper Thimbleton) it was his responsibility to bring the holy word to the assorted heathens of the mostly-civilised world; for a few months he'd been in contact with Brother Unrak, one of the local faithful, who had extended Yannick an invitation to the Outpost for the infamous 'Open Season', whatever that meant. After arriving in the city a few hours ago Yannick had met with Unrak, judged him to be deceptive and verging on insanity (both highly esteemed virtues in the Order) and following his directions, had found someone wearing the Adventurer's Guild crest to escort him to the square.

This certainly seemed like the right place to be - warriors, merchants, bureaucrats, and above all, noise. The question was where to begin, Yannick thought as he idly stepped out the way of a living corpse and its mistress.

"...And traditionally, lead-tipped nails are used...oh? Where'd you go?"

His guide had vanished, having found some opportunity to blend in with the crowd of similarly gormless thugs. No great loss, there would be other opportunities to enlighten the masses. Yannick dusted off the front of his robes and set off wandering around the square.

 

[JoJo]

The young barmaid was used to seeing all kinds of strange creatures as she worked in her father Lao's tavern, serving drinks long into the night, but this one gave even her the chills. It's compound eyes seemed to stare in every direction at once, it's six legs clicking noisily as they tapped up and down impatiently on the wooden table in front of it. It didn't sit on a chair, indeed it probably couldn't, rather it stood with it's front two pincers perched on the table, the candlelight reflecting off it's shining black exoskeleton. It wore no clothing, except for a belt around it's waist where two short knives hung ominously, along with a small leather bag.

"Are you a valma?" the small girl asked cautiously as she poured out a drink, avoiding eye contact with the creature.

"Yes, they call me Mehadi," the giant insect hissed, clicking it's mandibles together, "How did you know that, man grub?"

"My father, he teaches me about all the different races that might come here," the barmaid replied proudly, glancing at the valma's wings folded at her sides, "He said that only the royalty have wings, is that true?"

"Yes..." Mehadi replied after a pause, fixing her compound eyes on the child, her antennae almost touching her face, "What is that to you?"

"Nothing!" the girl squeaked, darting back to the safety of behind the counter. The valma chuckled to itself and then dug noisely into the raw meat and roots that had been served before it, ripping apart chunks of flesh with it's mandibles and swallowing them whole.

~​

Sometime later Mehadi found herself in the middle of a maelstrom as she crawled through the backstreets of the Outpost, as a recent arrival bemused by the chaos of the celebrations. Everything in her native land was so much more organised, regimented, even during seasonal festivals. First royalty and the humans would eat, then the priests, then the soldiers and workers and so on. The countless races and creeds intermixing in the Outpost were so much more equal and unpredictable, it was exciting but also daunting for the valma princess.

"Where are you going, you six-legs?" a drunk man called to Mehadi as he stumbled past, she held her head high and ignored him, "Yeah, you better run you fucking bug!" he shouted after her. She carried on, ignoring the usual crowds of small beggars, impossible to tell with her untrained compound eyes whether they were genuine children or races that appeared young throughout their lifespan. Their numbers seemed thinner today though, soon she found out why. Today was the day of the Beggar's Banquet, and as soon as Mehadi heard about the mountains of free meat that would be given out fluid began to drip from her mandibles. This was not an opportunity to be missed, she thought as she entered the brick hall where the banquet would be held. Her registration remained on the table where she had signed it an hour earlier, written up by a nervous-looking human scribe.

Name: Mehadi of Bhurat
Job: Warrior for hire
Referral: Innkeeper Lao
Next of kin: None

 

[Mr.Ivebeenframed]

Zenobia wandered around Square one, looking through the throngs of people and beasts for what she would do next. Undoubtedly, she wished to go to the Beggar's Banquet but she became enchanted by the hustle and bustle of street life. It was nostalgic for her since she grew up her entire life within the confines of Ayadine and before she joined the Order, she was an urchin much like the children or little creatures running around her right now. She swatted them away of course because Zenobia wasn't exactly strapped for cash. The carriage ride to the Outpost was costly and she only paid in half, deciding to walk the rest because of its price. Drivers weren't exactly excited to come here and she could see why when she went to one of the stalls.

Zenobia glanced at a particular stall selling staves and magical tomes from all over. She even spotted a stave used by the Order displayed on a stand. The obsidian workmanship was beautiful and wonderfully preserved. One would think that this had just arrived from Ayadine so curious enough she looked for the owner of the stand. The apprentice in charge of the stall was counting silver when Zenobia approached her. She looked to be a olive-skinned human from what Zenobia could make out. In a way, Zenobia pitied the humans seeing as they only could live a fraction of what they could but she didn't express such pity when she called her out.

"Excuse me!" Zenobia called out above the loud sounds from all around them. The human looked up from her counting and saw the elf. She left and went towards her.

"Welcome to the Outpost!" The human said eagerly although with little effort, Zenobia could tell that it was a somewhat forced. "What can I do for you today?"

"Yes, I'd like to inquire about that stave over there." Zenobia pointed to the Ayadine stave she had been eyeing earlier.

"Ah, yes. We've had people inquiring about this one for quite some time." The human went over to the stave but was careful to touch it. Zenobia respected the human's adherence to keeping it as preserved as any one from the Order would do. "A few people even had the gall to try and steal this from under our noses but they didn't get very far. It's a staff from Ayadine, the jewel of the Red dunes. A vast city exotic even to the most seasoned of travelers. A merchant who went to Ayadine sold all of his cargo when he saw a thing of beauty such as this, or so I've been told. The merchant's son was none to pleased so he had to do lots of mercenary work just to recover the business. He did his contract work right here in the Outpost. Sadly, when the son died he left no next of kin so the city repossessed everything he had which includes this."

"That's quite the tale. Why did his son do contract work in the Outpost and not in Shal'zeen or White Forest? Those cities have contracts plenty."

"Because statically, the Outpost's contracts pay very much more. The exclusivity of the Outpost's beasts and the loot beyond those mountains are greater than that dust bowl Shal'zeen. White Forest has very cheap registration because they have adventurers chasing around over-sized vultures which are canaries compared to the uglies we have here. The Outpost pays well if you are willing to risk much more."

"Okay." Zenobia said. "How much is the stave by the way?"

The human fetched a small parchment from her sleeve and read through the items before showing Zenobia the price of the stave. "About this much."

Zenobia left in a puff. The outrageous price of something like that was one of the most outrageous things she had seen. She was a hare short of stealing the stave herself but that would have meant her leaving the city either dead or almost dead. Zenobia didn't like the prospects of either so she stuck to the streets to cool off. While she did that, she spotted a Valma in the streets. She had only heard of those creatures in the taverns and in books concerning the Kingdom of Samara. She was drawn to the creature like a moth to the flame. Zenobia wondered to approach the creature. She was afraid if she ran up to the creature, it might just chop her head right off. She admittedly ignorant about these creatures, focusing only on the fact that the Order barely came into contact with such creatures which means Zenobia had no experience with them.

Zenobia approached the Valma carefully, not trying to present herself as a threat.

"Excuse me!" Zenobia called out to the Valma as least threateningly as possible. "I am seeking a companion. Perhaps we can partner together for the time being...or whatever suits you..." Zenobia said meekly as the creature turned towards her.

 

[JoJo]

Mehadi turned around to fix her eyes on the figure who called out to her as she stood in front of the banquet hall, her antennae reaching forward to better get an idea of who or what it was. She didn't recognise the figure but she saw it was either human or a related species, the pale skin and short hair threw her off though from the men she was used to dealing with at home. The gender was just as unfathomable, in the Kingdom the few humans dressed in different enough clothing it was easy tell the males from females most of the time, out here anything seemed to go.

"Perhaps," Mehadi hissed as she stepped closer to the figure, instinctively opening her wings to make herself appear larger. She hadn't been particularly lucky recently in finding employment and had spent the bulk of her hard-earned coin on the mandatory registration at the Outpost, she figured that pairing up with another could bring more success, even if they were only a fleshy creature of the surface world. "What can you do, boy?" she asked, making her best guess.

 

[Thomas Barnsley]

At a relatively quiet end of the camp, well away from the high-pass entrance, all seemed still.
If one stood motionless, however, and held their breath so as to make as little noise as possible, they might notice a humming thrum on the edge of perception...

Whumwhumwhumwhumwhumwhumwhumwhumwhumwhum... WHOOSH

A wooden projectile comes spinning over the battlements, rope trailing behind it into the night. Moving with avian grace it twists up and over the Outpost walls, slowing at its peak and diving obliquely back to earth. The flight is punctuated by clattering as it touches down at the base of an indentation in the balustrade.
For a moment, things are still once more. Then there's a tug on the rope tied to the boomerang, shifting the pronged projectile from rest. Several more tugs follow, until at last the impromptu grappling hook is secure enough against the wall so as to render future tugging futile.
The rope grows taut, and for a long while remains so. Scrapping sounds come from below at lurching intervals, gradually increasing in volume until another foreign entity slips neatly over the wall; Bo Clung.
Bo Clung gathers up his things as he furtively surveys the newly-broken-into township. He can discern a commotion in the town's centre. That is where he must go, it seems.

Tucking away both rope and boomerang into his robe, Bo removes his staff from its secure holding against his back and sets off to see what he can see. Is that food he smells? As good a place to start as any.

 

[Mr.Ivebeenframed]

"What can you do, boy?"

Zenobia was a bit taken a back before she realized that maybe giant insects also could mistake her for a boy. It was something she was used in the five years of travelling but she just thought that maybe these insects would have a better way of detecting her gender. Either way, the insect wished to know what she could do and Zenobia was a bit apprehensive on putting on a display in the open since not many people take a liking to her practicing of blood magic. She's been met with rather negative reactions to it before and she had no intention of being kicked of this city either yet she had to display some sort of power to sway the insect to accept her.

"Well, I'm not sure if you heard of blood magic but it is something that I am well-versed in. If you have ever heard of Ayadine then you might have an idea of what I am capable of doing." Zenobia said with some smidgen of pride for her city although she wasn't quite sure how the Valma would take it. Zenobia rolled up her sleeves and showed the Valma her brands. "You see, instead of a tome I have these brands on my skin to I rely on for magic spells. Instead of... magic... I harness the energy within my blood to combat my enemies in the name of Eno! It can get pretty messy but I assure you that I am no stranger to combat. I would provide a display but in my experience, not too many people are keen on blood magic. Once we get a contract, I promise to pull my weight!"

 

[JoJo]

"I don't know much about this outside world," Mehadi admitted, "but I think I have heard of Ayadine. Your blood magic could come in handy out there," If the valma had one weakness, Mehadi believed it was their complete lack of ability to use magic, although not for want of trying. Four centuries of cohabitation with the magic-wielding Manushya had failed to reveal any valma mages however, and so Samarans were content to depend on their human minority to conduct their spells for them. Since leaving the colony none of those had been available to Mehadi, and there had been quite a few sticky situations during the last six months when she would have liked have had an enchantment at her disposal.

"They call me Mehadi, of the colony Bhurat," she added, putting her right claw forward to shake the figure's hand in the manner she believed was customary among most humanoid races.

 

[booksv3]

Desaya narrows her eyes slightly at the conversation that had happened behind her. The bug talking and the blood magic were both interesting things but she had a feeling that there was something more there, so she did the only real option she had. She turned around.

Walking over closer to the huge bug and the other person she addresses the blood mage with a bluntness she had gained over hundreds of people trying to get something from her.
"Does blood magic need living blood to be used or can you use the blood of the dead?"

Looking back and forth between the two Desaya nods slightly and introduces herself.
"My name is Desaya, I'm from the plains."

Behind her the zombie shuffles forward and makes a moaning sound reminding her its there. Waving back at it she says without much interest.
"This is a follower if mine, ignore the bloody shirt."

 

[Thomas Barnsley]

Through the streets of Outpost Bo Clung strode, great purpose evident in his motions and general demeanor. His legs and staff swished back and forth beneath him like a complex array of pendulums hanging from a clock, never breaking stride even for a moment as they swerved to avoid the sudden expulsion of vomit from one gutter-bound, heavily inebriated citizen.
Soon enough, Square One emerged out from the chaos. Well, that wasn't entirely true. Chaos was everywhere, only now it smelled more like a banquet and less like feces.

Having entered a trance of the deepest focus, and from this determined that the least unpleasant smells wafted from the direction of the Guild building, Bo set off once more. Yet he did not get far before something caught his attention, only a few yards away and rapidly approaching...

The guard he had spoken to at the gate!


Like a tiny ocean crustacean, Bo darted out of the path of his oncoming yet seemingly oblivious acquaintance, vanishing into the crowd that was his shoal refuge.
The watchman saw nothing as he passed by, whistling merrily.

A few long seconds after this event, Bo turned away from the stall he had been pretending to examine, peering around from beneath the silky locks of a voluminous lady's wig which he had hastily snatched up from the goods for sale as a disguise. The guard was nowhere to be seen, but he did notice a heavily shrouded cleric standing next to him. One could assume that he had been legitimately browsing before Bo slipped in to hide.
Bo Clung gave this man a cold stare, daring him to comment on the questionable choice of headwear he sported.

 

[Mr.Ivebeenframed]

"They call me Mehadi, of the colony Bhurat,"

"Pleasure to meet you, Mehadi. My name is Zenobia of Ayadine." Zenobia reached out and shook the Mehadi's hand. The feeling of the Valma's hand was peculiar to say the least. What most interesting was the blood she could feel beneath Mehadi's exoskeleton. She didn't recall if Valma were ever sacrificed in Ayadine but their blood was certainly one of a kind but she knew that getting a stranger's blood was certainly not good manners. Then she heard someone talk to them.

"Does blood magic need living blood to be used or can you use the blood of the dead?"

"Well it kind of depends on the freshness of the-" Zenobia said as she turned to see a living corpse staring right at her. She visibly jumped back thinking that she would have a repeat of Underwood all over again. That is until the owner spoke up. "My name is Desaya, I'm from the plains. This is a follower if mine, ignore the bloody shirt."

"Oh my," Zenobia gasped. "A necromancer! I have a feeling we will certainly need you in the coming times. I am Zenobia of the Order of Eno." Zenobia gave a slight bow to Desaya. "I respect your craft even when others may not. Anyway, shall we enter the Banquet together?"

 

[suspicious guard]

Yannick cast a critical eye over the nearest food stall. Cryptically labelled 'local speshulty', the selection consisted mostly of fried rat-on-a-stick. Half a rat, that is. The middle half. The vendor looked - if possible - even less appetising. It rather reminded Yannick of home - the fine citizens of Blandsmouth weren't known for being handsome. Outsiders usually attributed that to the malignant influence of the Order - actually, it was probably more to do with the fact that most people's uncles were also their brothers, and so on. Yannick was one of the lucky ones, all of his fingers were in the right places.

After some deliberation, Yannick decided to skip the rat course. Brother Unrak had mentioned something about a banquet tonight (in between gibbering about the Fires of Cleansing or some such nonsense). Hopefully there was something a bit more edible on the way.

He wandered over to the next stall, which appeared to specialise in strange hats. After carefully inspecting what appeared to be a wrought-iron helmet draped in green lace, Yannick's attention was diverted to another customer - an angry-looking man with a dazzling shock of blonde curls, and who appeared to be armed with some sort of metal banana. He didn't look like a local, but Yannick had seen all sorts of, er, people in his short time in the city. Perhaps scowling was the customary greeting here.

"Er. Hello! I was just looking at the, er, selection here. Very interesting. Practical and stylish. Not that I could wear these, of course, the Oath of Service prevents me from wearing anything other than the dread shroud of the Void, you see. It prevents most things, actually, not that I'm complaining..."

He trailed off. He was used to being interrupted at about this point, but the hairy man hadn't said a word. Yannick uncertainly extended a hand from the folds of his robes.

"Brother Yannick, Servant of the Dread god Tzarpedon (may He smite us with mercy). New in town. Heard there was something exciting going on. Pleased to meet you!" He waited.

 

[JoJo]

"Yes, let's," Mehadi replied with a nod to her two new companions, rubbing her mandibles together eagerly, "My stomachs are rumbling like anything, I'll being eating that corpse soon!"

She crawled forward into the hall where the Beggar's Banquet was to be held, turning up her antennae at the pungent stink coming off many of the homeless who had already gathered. Still, she thought it would be worth the free food, especially since she had wasted enough of her coins on that damn registration.

"I'm Mehadi, by the way," she called to the humanoid who had identified themselves as Desaya.

 

[Thomas Barnsley]

Bo looked down at the hand, then up at the hood. Then down at the hand.

He took the hand, shaking it cautiously.

"Oi, ma'am." the hat salesman interrupted brusquely. "You planning on paying for that?"

Scowling once more Bo removed the wig and tossed it to the storekeeper as he turned to leave for the Guild hall.
A few paces away Bo looked back over his shoulder, checking to see if the one who had introduced himself as Yannick was following him. The steady inspection was not totally uninviting.

 

[booksv3]

Oh my, A necromancer! I have a feeling we will certainly need you in the coming times. I am Zenobia of the Order of Eno. I respect your craft even when others may not. Anyway, shall we enter the Banquet together?"


Desaya looks at Zenobia with an appraising look. Most who found out she was a necromancer either tried to kill her or shunned her for her ability to talk to and raise the dead. This was something new to her and it softened her expression to a new neutral one from its hardened one. Nodding back to Zenobia Desaya looks after the large bug that had started going towards the brick banquet building and makes a small motion towards the same building as she says to the blood mage.
"Come, lets get this banquet over with then see about finding some work for us three. But keep an eye out, two second line with one one first line will soon find themselves overtaken. We should grab another first line person."

Desaya pokes her Zombie in the side and sighs.
"This one is honestly no use on the front line, yet. He is a basic zombie and even in life was weak and probably cowardly. For a really good zombie you need a good starter."

Desaya looks at Zenobia over for a second before shaking her head.
"Also I'm still learning. I know there are other kinds of dead but right now i can only call on three, and even then it takes a long time to call up something more than a mindless zombie."

Desaya turns and starts walking after the large bug.

 

[suspicious guard]

Yannick was somewhat disappointed to see that the scowling stranger's hair was fake after all, but to be fair the man looked a lot more formidable without the wig. It seemed like a good idea to stay near somebody who looked able to handle a fight, and although he still hadn't spoken the chap had shaken his hand. That was good enough. Yannick caught up with the man as he paced away.

"Don't mind if I tag along? You look...capable. Lots of shady characters around here, you know. I've been in a few fights, know a few tricks, but its always good to have a random thug-er, a seasoned warrior such as yourself."

He paused, giving the stranger a curious look. "I didn't catch your name...er, do you even speak Common?"