The Wanderers
- Thread starter Combined
- Start date
Recommended Videos
"Couple o' hours, eh?" Anselm added as meaningless annex to the conversation.
He pulled his backpack more firmly onto his back, and glanced over the group.
"Good shooting mates, it exceeded my expectations," he said, giving off a faint tone of smugness, which he rather tried to avoid.
"Your hand seems a bit injured," he said, turning himself towards Smith. "If the weight of the gold is too much for you, just let me know," he said, smiling and already circling the group. After a short while, he sat down on the sand, and pulled out a big and wide, but reasonably thin blanket, on which he laid down.
He pulled his backpack more firmly onto his back, and glanced over the group.
"Good shooting mates, it exceeded my expectations," he said, giving off a faint tone of smugness, which he rather tried to avoid.
"Your hand seems a bit injured," he said, turning himself towards Smith. "If the weight of the gold is too much for you, just let me know," he said, smiling and already circling the group. After a short while, he sat down on the sand, and pulled out a big and wide, but reasonably thin blanket, on which he laid down.
Weeks later...
There is a dune in the desert. Not a big dune, but still larger than usual. Upon it stood a band of misfits on a quest to "save the world". Oh well, they'd probably be eaten alive by monsters or killed by raiders. And they're not really important in this story.
What is important, however, is the dune in front of them. It is a very large dune, overlooking a large city - the port town of Zundhoven. On this dune stand adventurers, criminals and able men on an epic, if somewhat tedious and long, quest to gain knowledge of this world.
The town itself is one of the filthiest and most criminal-infested cities of the Nation, although it does have some rather fancy museums for adventurers of past times and a lively musical scene. People, though, would buy anything shiny and sell anything for a coin. Bounty hunters, thieves and brigands are common, even though the National Guard protects the city with it's fearsome soldiers. The heroes will not be safe here. Perhaps, they will be hunted, robbed or they may get into trouble, particularly since they have split the treasure equally amongst themselves, except for the chalice which remains in the custody of Emerson. Who knows what will happen?
Smith looked up at the sun and took off his Safari helmet. It was early morning and they had just completed their exercise walk of a few kilometres. He stretched out his arms to the sides and spoke.
"The city of Zundhoven! We have arrived. It is a pleasant day. Unfortunately, I will have to excuse myself as I have business to attend to here, including chartering a ship, buying supplies and exchanging my part of the treasure for money."
He brought his hands together and continued. "For the rest of you...well, do what you wish - visit a museum, buy supplies, visit the Guard quarters to speak with your fellow soldiers or send off a message, patron the criminal guild houses for illicit substances and weapons, even visit houses of carnal pleasure if you so desire. We shall meet just before sunset at the "Fine Mist Wine Cellar" in the centre of town."
He took Emerson and Anselm off to the side and spoke to them. "Now, I know this is probably a silly thing to ask, but have you two registered with the official guild of adventurers? Because if you haven't, I'd appreciate it if you would. All that you need to do is pay the entrance fee, sign your name and give a single fingerprint and a drop of blood - that you probably know already. Once you are Junior members, it'll be much easier for us to interact, seeing as you get the guidebook and maps, of course."
They returned to the group and Henry seemed to smile underneath the mask. "If you need anything, now is the time."
There is a dune in the desert. Not a big dune, but still larger than usual. Upon it stood a band of misfits on a quest to "save the world". Oh well, they'd probably be eaten alive by monsters or killed by raiders. And they're not really important in this story.
What is important, however, is the dune in front of them. It is a very large dune, overlooking a large city - the port town of Zundhoven. On this dune stand adventurers, criminals and able men on an epic, if somewhat tedious and long, quest to gain knowledge of this world.
The town itself is one of the filthiest and most criminal-infested cities of the Nation, although it does have some rather fancy museums for adventurers of past times and a lively musical scene. People, though, would buy anything shiny and sell anything for a coin. Bounty hunters, thieves and brigands are common, even though the National Guard protects the city with it's fearsome soldiers. The heroes will not be safe here. Perhaps, they will be hunted, robbed or they may get into trouble, particularly since they have split the treasure equally amongst themselves, except for the chalice which remains in the custody of Emerson. Who knows what will happen?
Smith looked up at the sun and took off his Safari helmet. It was early morning and they had just completed their exercise walk of a few kilometres. He stretched out his arms to the sides and spoke.
"The city of Zundhoven! We have arrived. It is a pleasant day. Unfortunately, I will have to excuse myself as I have business to attend to here, including chartering a ship, buying supplies and exchanging my part of the treasure for money."
He brought his hands together and continued. "For the rest of you...well, do what you wish - visit a museum, buy supplies, visit the Guard quarters to speak with your fellow soldiers or send off a message, patron the criminal guild houses for illicit substances and weapons, even visit houses of carnal pleasure if you so desire. We shall meet just before sunset at the "Fine Mist Wine Cellar" in the centre of town."
He took Emerson and Anselm off to the side and spoke to them. "Now, I know this is probably a silly thing to ask, but have you two registered with the official guild of adventurers? Because if you haven't, I'd appreciate it if you would. All that you need to do is pay the entrance fee, sign your name and give a single fingerprint and a drop of blood - that you probably know already. Once you are Junior members, it'll be much easier for us to interact, seeing as you get the guidebook and maps, of course."
They returned to the group and Henry seemed to smile underneath the mask. "If you need anything, now is the time."
Now begins a small player-driven segment. It will be very short and all players can create a small story or sub-plot if they wish. Be creative, inventive and have a nice day!
"The official guild of-- I thought you were making that place up, Smith. Wow. What a name for an official place. Well, uh, I haven't signed up. I'll go do that now."
He then poked Anselm in the arm repeatedly to get his attention.
"You signed up? I don't want to go to the big important place by myself. I might get attacked. Or worse, lost."
He then poked Anselm in the arm repeatedly to get his attention.
"You signed up? I don't want to go to the big important place by myself. I might get attacked. Or worse, lost."
"Well, I know I need some bullets. Excuse me, gents," Conner muttered, walking through the group but not running into anyone. Quickly checking his pistols, he found both were fully loaded but had very little reserve ammunition, and his shotgun was the same way. "Really need some bullets." Stowing his weapons, he began walking into town.
Anselm turned to Emerson who poked him to get his attention.
"Me? Heh, well. Yes, actually. I have been an avid adventurer for a long time, after all," he said, turning his backpack around him, in front of his stomach. He pulled the ropes that opened his backpack, and he pushed in his hand. He pulled out a multitude of paper sheets, all of them bounded together into two books.
"See, here's the guidebook and maps. I remember I was so ecstatic when I joined, now I always carry them around," he said, quickly remembering what started this conversation.
"But I'll gladly join you, Emerson. I don't have anything specific in mind I'd like to do, except for maybe buying some supplies, so if you agree to go buy some, I'll be your company," he said, pulling his backpack onto his back and smiling, the rays of the hot, desert sun reflecting his teeth.
"Me? Heh, well. Yes, actually. I have been an avid adventurer for a long time, after all," he said, turning his backpack around him, in front of his stomach. He pulled the ropes that opened his backpack, and he pushed in his hand. He pulled out a multitude of paper sheets, all of them bounded together into two books.
"See, here's the guidebook and maps. I remember I was so ecstatic when I joined, now I always carry them around," he said, quickly remembering what started this conversation.
"But I'll gladly join you, Emerson. I don't have anything specific in mind I'd like to do, except for maybe buying some supplies, so if you agree to go buy some, I'll be your company," he said, pulling his backpack onto his back and smiling, the rays of the hot, desert sun reflecting his teeth.
"Yup, uh-uh," Anselm replied, temporarily grabbed in by the amazing design of the building. Cities usually looked miserable, even the capital they left. Dirty water flowed through the muddy grounds, and cities were overpopulated. Rock roads were not exactly common.
The district surrounding the building they were eyeing was an exception, though. It looked as if from the future. There were street lamps there, which were the only ones in known civilization. The roads were polished smooth, and there were even a few cars driving around. The people riding them were extremely rich. Cars as they were right now was a very new invention, and only the wealthiest could afford them.
Even though surrounded with museums and restaurants, the district had few sophisticated gentlemen wearing top hats, and fair maidens with beautiful and big dresses. On the roads, men with ragged clothes and dirty faces were gallivanting. They were all adventurers. This was one place where adventurers liked to gather, idly chit-chatting with eachother, or gathering supplies and going to the official guild house.
After he noticed Emerson started walking towards the building, Anselm asked him a question as a mean of avoiding silence between the two.
"Well, excited?"
The district surrounding the building they were eyeing was an exception, though. It looked as if from the future. There were street lamps there, which were the only ones in known civilization. The roads were polished smooth, and there were even a few cars driving around. The people riding them were extremely rich. Cars as they were right now was a very new invention, and only the wealthiest could afford them.
Even though surrounded with museums and restaurants, the district had few sophisticated gentlemen wearing top hats, and fair maidens with beautiful and big dresses. On the roads, men with ragged clothes and dirty faces were gallivanting. They were all adventurers. This was one place where adventurers liked to gather, idly chit-chatting with eachother, or gathering supplies and going to the official guild house.
After he noticed Emerson started walking towards the building, Anselm asked him a question as a mean of avoiding silence between the two.
"Well, excited?"
Henry couldn't possibly allow Emerson's induction to go off without the traditional gift of the senior adventurer. He had already presented himself at the Adventurer Guild, sitting firmly in a chair underneath his own portrait, marking it as his spot.
It was a grand portrait. He was standing proud, wearing the uniform of a high-ranking British officer, heavily decorated with medals of many nations. A sword was at his side - the same sword he used in the fight at the temple - and a pistol hung from his belt, quite different from his revolver. It was also the first time that his companions would see his face, even if it is only in portrait. It was the face of a weathered, middle-aged gentleman. A sharp moustache, neatly combed hair and an expression of polite acknowledgement.
He was holding a large packet, probably the gift he had brought for Emerson as a part of the Joining ceremony. Every adventurer had to go through this. It wasn't something as drastic as drinking a cup of poisoned blood or killing a dragon, but it did signify something important to all adventurers everywhere - that their ranks had just increased by one Person of Worth, as they called it.
It was a grand portrait. He was standing proud, wearing the uniform of a high-ranking British officer, heavily decorated with medals of many nations. A sword was at his side - the same sword he used in the fight at the temple - and a pistol hung from his belt, quite different from his revolver. It was also the first time that his companions would see his face, even if it is only in portrait. It was the face of a weathered, middle-aged gentleman. A sharp moustache, neatly combed hair and an expression of polite acknowledgement.
He was holding a large packet, probably the gift he had brought for Emerson as a part of the Joining ceremony. Every adventurer had to go through this. It wasn't something as drastic as drinking a cup of poisoned blood or killing a dragon, but it did signify something important to all adventurers everywhere - that their ranks had just increased by one Person of Worth, as they called it.
"Erm, you could say that. I'm more confused than anything."
The two slowly entered, and looked around for a few seconds. It was then that they both spotted Henry, or atleast it looked like Henry, sitting in a nearby chair.
"Smith! Wow-- you really look different, and oh my god. Is that you? In the painting? You look so different! Wait, no, I haven't really seen what you look like."
Emerson then noticed he was recieving a few strange looks.
"Am I being a bit loud? I-- er. Yeah, I'm being loud."
The two slowly entered, and looked around for a few seconds. It was then that they both spotted Henry, or atleast it looked like Henry, sitting in a nearby chair.
"Smith! Wow-- you really look different, and oh my god. Is that you? In the painting? You look so different! Wait, no, I haven't really seen what you look like."
Emerson then noticed he was recieving a few strange looks.
"Am I being a bit loud? I-- er. Yeah, I'm being loud."
"It's fine. We've had people die here a few times and they're much louder. Anyway, yes, that is me. In the good days. Much younger than I am now. Decorated by every major monarch in Europe." He grinned underneath the mask.
"Most adventurers get their portraits taken and hung up in every Guild house from here to the coast. Helps with the seating, but that doesn't really matter, now does it? This is about your entry into the Guild and Society of Adventurers. I'm merely here for the final part. To pass on a gift. Now, off you go. Complete the entry ceremony, then take a stroll through the hall of adventurers - we have portraits of them all, even me, there - and then return here so that I may finish it."
He leaned back and returned to thinking, wondering which captain he knew and could hire.
"Most adventurers get their portraits taken and hung up in every Guild house from here to the coast. Helps with the seating, but that doesn't really matter, now does it? This is about your entry into the Guild and Society of Adventurers. I'm merely here for the final part. To pass on a gift. Now, off you go. Complete the entry ceremony, then take a stroll through the hall of adventurers - we have portraits of them all, even me, there - and then return here so that I may finish it."
He leaned back and returned to thinking, wondering which captain he knew and could hire.
Anselm knew he had a seat here, too. Though the portrait above his measly chair wasn't half as big as Smith's. He was a well-respected member, but not nearly as legendary as the old man standing before him.
"Complete the entry ceremony, take a stroll through the hall of adventurers - we have portraits of them all, even me, there - and then return here so that I may finish it," Henry said, as Anselm immediately nodded to Emerson.
"Yeah, Emerson. Let's go take a stroll through the hall of adventurers," he said, grinning.
"Complete the entry ceremony, take a stroll through the hall of adventurers - we have portraits of them all, even me, there - and then return here so that I may finish it," Henry said, as Anselm immediately nodded to Emerson.
"Yeah, Emerson. Let's go take a stroll through the hall of adventurers," he said, grinning.
Emerson nodded to Anselm, and then to Smith. This didn't seem like the time for any grand speech. That could wait.
"Right. To the ceremony."
The two men slowly walked toward Magistrate Lord's office. The walk seemed to go on forever, as if neither of them were covering any ground. Needless to say, Emerson was bricking it.
He finally reached the door, Anselm at his side. They exchanged looks, as Emerson finally opened the door. The Magistrate Lord himself was sitting down, looking at them. He had quite the snappy dress sense. In any other situation, Emerson would have made a joke.
The Magistrate Lord notioned to a chair infront of the desk he was sitting at. Emerson sat down, as Anselm stood near the door. Emerson looked down at parchment of writing, with a small dotted line at the bottom. He took the nearby quill, and signed his name, "Emerson N. Watson", onto it. The lord at the desk then notioned at the currency at the top of the parchment.
Must be the fee, Emerson thought.
He pulled out five coins from his pocket, and place them ontop of the paper. He then looked up a the lord, who once more notioned to something. Emerson looked down at the pot of black ink. He pressed his thumb into the liquid, and placed it upon it's designated postion upon the parchment.
Before he could even look up, a small blade was placed upon the table. He slowly grabbed it from its place with his right hand. He then cut across his index finger on his left hand, and let the blood drop upon the parchment. The Magistrate Lord then took the writing from the table, as well as the blade, and passed Emerson a small box. Emerson carefully lifted it's lid upwards, and removed its contents: a leather bound guidebook and a completely prestine Map of the World.
"And now, you are a part of a society. Blood and wine, Sweat and water, Desert and Storm. Farewell, Junior Adventurer Emerson.", the lord said, finally breaking the silence.
With a nod, Emerson rose from his seat, the now closed box within his hand. He exited the way he came, in complete silence. He and Anselm exchanged smirks this time instead of worried glances, as they shut the door behind them. Emerson kept his smirk plastered to his face as the two walked through the hall of adventurers. They both looked around, taking in the detail from each painting. They both smiled as they passed Smith's, and then Anselm's.
It was then they saw Smith himself, standing at the very end of the hall. They strolled toward him, Emerson holding the box he was given under his arm.
"These guys take this stuff seriously, eh?", he laughed.
"Right. To the ceremony."
The two men slowly walked toward Magistrate Lord's office. The walk seemed to go on forever, as if neither of them were covering any ground. Needless to say, Emerson was bricking it.
He finally reached the door, Anselm at his side. They exchanged looks, as Emerson finally opened the door. The Magistrate Lord himself was sitting down, looking at them. He had quite the snappy dress sense. In any other situation, Emerson would have made a joke.
The Magistrate Lord notioned to a chair infront of the desk he was sitting at. Emerson sat down, as Anselm stood near the door. Emerson looked down at parchment of writing, with a small dotted line at the bottom. He took the nearby quill, and signed his name, "Emerson N. Watson", onto it. The lord at the desk then notioned at the currency at the top of the parchment.
Must be the fee, Emerson thought.
He pulled out five coins from his pocket, and place them ontop of the paper. He then looked up a the lord, who once more notioned to something. Emerson looked down at the pot of black ink. He pressed his thumb into the liquid, and placed it upon it's designated postion upon the parchment.
Before he could even look up, a small blade was placed upon the table. He slowly grabbed it from its place with his right hand. He then cut across his index finger on his left hand, and let the blood drop upon the parchment. The Magistrate Lord then took the writing from the table, as well as the blade, and passed Emerson a small box. Emerson carefully lifted it's lid upwards, and removed its contents: a leather bound guidebook and a completely prestine Map of the World.
"And now, you are a part of a society. Blood and wine, Sweat and water, Desert and Storm. Farewell, Junior Adventurer Emerson.", the lord said, finally breaking the silence.
With a nod, Emerson rose from his seat, the now closed box within his hand. He exited the way he came, in complete silence. He and Anselm exchanged smirks this time instead of worried glances, as they shut the door behind them. Emerson kept his smirk plastered to his face as the two walked through the hall of adventurers. They both looked around, taking in the detail from each painting. They both smiled as they passed Smith's, and then Anselm's.
It was then they saw Smith himself, standing at the very end of the hall. They strolled toward him, Emerson holding the box he was given under his arm.
"These guys take this stuff seriously, eh?", he laughed.
"Hmph, well. Being an adventurer is a privilege, you know. The fact that your initiation into it was so quick is only because Smith took care of it," Anselm said, noticing Smith far away, at the end of the hall.
"Oh, right, right," Anselm said, quickly dropping his backpack, motioning for Emerson to stop.
"Cutting your finger may be a bugger when you grab things," he said, randomly twitching around in his bag with his hand.
Soon, he pulled out an ordinary piece of bandage. What he pulled out afterwards was odd. It was a small bottle, made of glass. Anselm hadn't ever seen another human carry glass items, as glass wasn't exactly common. He was proud to pull it out every now and then, though he rarely had the chance. But now he did.
"This'll help that cut of yours," he said, letting drops of it fall onto the bandage, pulling some of it apart, and directing it towards Emerson.
"I'll assure you, this won't hurt a bit," Anselm said, slowly trying it around Emerson's finger, firmly enough for it to not fall off, but not tightly enough to distract blood flow.
"There. Now, let's get going," he said, grabbing his backpack, now holding it by his side. They neared and neared Smith, as they finally reached him.
"Hello, Smith. Let us welcome our newest member, Junior Adventurer Emerson!" he said, trying to sound as majestic as possible, as a joke.
"Oh, right, right," Anselm said, quickly dropping his backpack, motioning for Emerson to stop.
"Cutting your finger may be a bugger when you grab things," he said, randomly twitching around in his bag with his hand.
Soon, he pulled out an ordinary piece of bandage. What he pulled out afterwards was odd. It was a small bottle, made of glass. Anselm hadn't ever seen another human carry glass items, as glass wasn't exactly common. He was proud to pull it out every now and then, though he rarely had the chance. But now he did.
"This'll help that cut of yours," he said, letting drops of it fall onto the bandage, pulling some of it apart, and directing it towards Emerson.
"I'll assure you, this won't hurt a bit," Anselm said, slowly trying it around Emerson's finger, firmly enough for it to not fall off, but not tightly enough to distract blood flow.
"There. Now, let's get going," he said, grabbing his backpack, now holding it by his side. They neared and neared Smith, as they finally reached him.
"Hello, Smith. Let us welcome our newest member, Junior Adventurer Emerson!" he said, trying to sound as majestic as possible, as a joke.
"That's quite a bit of ammo you're getting, there," the shopkeeper noted, pointing out the several boxes of pistol and shotgun ammunition on the counter. "Plan on starting a war?"
"Plan on being ready for one," Conner replied, pulling a bit of his treasure out of a pocket. "Think that'll cover it?" Eying the loot, the shopkeeper slowly nodded as Conner handed him the payment. Setting his pack on the ground, he reached for a box of shells, firmly grabbing it and picking it up off the counter.
"Stop!" a woman shouted from across the room. The trigger was halfway back, barrel on the man's forehead, and now there was a witness. The boss didn't like witnesses, and he had to impress the boss. Another pistol came out, two shots went off. He walked over to her body. Aside from the two holes in her head, she was beautiful, gorgeous, but dead. Run, he thought, but he couldn't stop looking. Someone else ran, though. Two someones, children, and they ran up the stairs to see their dead mother.
The boss didn't like witnesses.
A loud thump jolted Conner back to reality, where he noticed that he'd dropped the box of bullets. Quickly picking it up, he stashed it in his bag along with all but one box of shells and pistol bullets. Taking the last two boxes in hand, he caught the shopkeeper's strange look.
"I'm fine, don't worry," he explained. He walked outside, found a counter, and got to work refilling his ammo belts.
"Plan on being ready for one," Conner replied, pulling a bit of his treasure out of a pocket. "Think that'll cover it?" Eying the loot, the shopkeeper slowly nodded as Conner handed him the payment. Setting his pack on the ground, he reached for a box of shells, firmly grabbing it and picking it up off the counter.
"Stop!" a woman shouted from across the room. The trigger was halfway back, barrel on the man's forehead, and now there was a witness. The boss didn't like witnesses, and he had to impress the boss. Another pistol came out, two shots went off. He walked over to her body. Aside from the two holes in her head, she was beautiful, gorgeous, but dead. Run, he thought, but he couldn't stop looking. Someone else ran, though. Two someones, children, and they ran up the stairs to see their dead mother.
The boss didn't like witnesses.
A loud thump jolted Conner back to reality, where he noticed that he'd dropped the box of bullets. Quickly picking it up, he stashed it in his bag along with all but one box of shells and pistol bullets. Taking the last two boxes in hand, he caught the shopkeeper's strange look.
"I'm fine, don't worry," he explained. He walked outside, found a counter, and got to work refilling his ammo belts.
"Ah, yes. Emerson. Look upon the faces on these walls. They are the greatest adventurers of our, or any time. From the very First, who set foot in foreign lands in search of treasure and glory, to You, who is the last. You here stand in the halls of all that is left of our once great society and today, you too will have a bit of it's essence."
He set down the packet and unwrapped it. It wasn't a particularly impressive gift. It wasn't even what some might call an excellent gift at first sight. But, underneath it all, it was a marvel.
Smith lifted the long, straight saber out of the box. It wasn't a magnificent, brand-new item. It was slightly rusty in places, caked blood covered the very edge and it was covered in scratches. A small packet was attached to the very bottom of the blade, buzzing with life, little gears around it clanging and grinding.
"This, is the saber of my mentor. It is a very... nontraditional item. For you see, if you press it here..." he pressed a little button on the side of the packet. "It should...come to life."
Upon closer inspection now, the blade seemed to glow a tad blue. Not brightly, but just enough to be nearly noticeable.
"Marvel of engineering, they tell me. Electric current runs through the entire blade, shocking enemy or friend alike. He once cut down a Deep Desert Haunter with it. Just before being torn apart by a ravenous pack of raider hounds."
He stood in silence for a moment, carefully balancing the sword in his hand, before turning off the current and presenting it to Emerson.
He set down the packet and unwrapped it. It wasn't a particularly impressive gift. It wasn't even what some might call an excellent gift at first sight. But, underneath it all, it was a marvel.
Smith lifted the long, straight saber out of the box. It wasn't a magnificent, brand-new item. It was slightly rusty in places, caked blood covered the very edge and it was covered in scratches. A small packet was attached to the very bottom of the blade, buzzing with life, little gears around it clanging and grinding.
"This, is the saber of my mentor. It is a very... nontraditional item. For you see, if you press it here..." he pressed a little button on the side of the packet. "It should...come to life."
Upon closer inspection now, the blade seemed to glow a tad blue. Not brightly, but just enough to be nearly noticeable.
"Marvel of engineering, they tell me. Electric current runs through the entire blade, shocking enemy or friend alike. He once cut down a Deep Desert Haunter with it. Just before being torn apart by a ravenous pack of raider hounds."
He stood in silence for a moment, carefully balancing the sword in his hand, before turning off the current and presenting it to Emerson.
Yes, while here you MAY pick out a single steampunk item of choice. It can be anything your little heart desires that's not TOO powerful... and it should have some sort of flaw. Let's be realistic. Nothing is perfect, steampunk items even more so. Remember that.
Example: Elephant gun that is very accurate... but has very, very long reload times. Or a sword that has an electric current running through it... but will shock friends and the holder, if they're careless. Etc.
Example: Elephant gun that is very accurate... but has very, very long reload times. Or a sword that has an electric current running through it... but will shock friends and the holder, if they're careless. Etc.
Emerson stretched his arm outward to carefully hold the swords handle. It wasn't that he was unsure whether or not to accept the gift, but more because he was quite terrified of it.
"A sword, that emits electricity? Holy mother of all things sacred, that's-- well, that's quite the present, thank you, Smith. But, er, why did you give me this of all things? Oh, lord, that sounded so rude. What I meant was, isn't this special to you? I would have thought you'd keep something like this."
"A sword, that emits electricity? Holy mother of all things sacred, that's-- well, that's quite the present, thank you, Smith. But, er, why did you give me this of all things? Oh, lord, that sounded so rude. What I meant was, isn't this special to you? I would have thought you'd keep something like this."
"Don't mention it. To me, the bloody thing is useless. I prefer to trust cold steel rather than invention. Always mucks up when you need it. At least, it does for me. I hope you have better luck, though that sword is fine in it's own right. And now, I'm afraid I must go."
He put on his Safari helmet and stood proud for a moment, observing the other adventurers.
Then, without a word, he walked out of the building, to tend to other matters of import.
He put on his Safari helmet and stood proud for a moment, observing the other adventurers.
Then, without a word, he walked out of the building, to tend to other matters of import.
For anyone who may be wondering, they split up on the dune overlooking the city, so now they are at a location of their own choice.
Enjoying the downtime, Conner found himself relaxing in the nearest house of delights, back facing the farthest corner from the door. Stop thinking about the past, he thought to himself, you can't change it. Sighing, he put his hand under his chin and put on a thousand yard stare. Just, think twice from now on. Trust your gut.
"Excuse me," the barmaid began, "would you like another drink? Fourth one's free." Nodding, he watched as she set the drink on another coaster, spotting the black corner sticking out from the bottom. Once she walked away, he pulled out the slip of paper and opened it with the same hand, glancing over the white ink.
Ask the bartender for some time with Red Jenny, then come down to meet us.
The drink's safe.
Chuckling, he grabbed his bag and drink and walked up to the bar.
"Say, how much for a bit of time with one of the ladies over there?" he asked, still holding his drink.
"Depends on which one you were lookin' at," the man replied. "Any one in particular, or do you want me to surprise you?"
"How about the ginger lass over there? I believe her name was, Jenny? A friend recommended her." Conner put his hand on the counter, black note underneath. As soon as he lifted it, the man swiftly took the paper and put his hands in his pockets. He let out a sharp whistle, getting the girls' attention, and an attractive redhead walked over.
"So you're the stud he told me he was sending," Jenny began, so Conner shrugged with a smile. "Well, right this way, then." The two of them walked upstairs, away from the customers in the bar.
"Care for a drink?" Conner offered, so she took the cup, smiled, and began drinking. "Not too much, I'm sure it's a strong brew." Stopping after a small sip, she led him to a door and pushed the door open, stumbling inside. Seeing she was about to fall, he rushed forward and caught her as well as the drink. "Still breathing, so at least they actually want to talk." He set the drink on the bedside table, laid her on the bed, and put his pack down. Scanning the room, he moved a small dresser and opened the trapdoor under it, climbing down the ladder to the building's basement.
"Mr. Blair," five voices said in unison, "good to see direct actions haven't dulled your instincts." That's always creepy, no matter how many times I hear it, he thought as he turned around.
"Excuse me," the barmaid began, "would you like another drink? Fourth one's free." Nodding, he watched as she set the drink on another coaster, spotting the black corner sticking out from the bottom. Once she walked away, he pulled out the slip of paper and opened it with the same hand, glancing over the white ink.
Ask the bartender for some time with Red Jenny, then come down to meet us.
The drink's safe.
Chuckling, he grabbed his bag and drink and walked up to the bar.
"Say, how much for a bit of time with one of the ladies over there?" he asked, still holding his drink.
"Depends on which one you were lookin' at," the man replied. "Any one in particular, or do you want me to surprise you?"
"How about the ginger lass over there? I believe her name was, Jenny? A friend recommended her." Conner put his hand on the counter, black note underneath. As soon as he lifted it, the man swiftly took the paper and put his hands in his pockets. He let out a sharp whistle, getting the girls' attention, and an attractive redhead walked over.
"So you're the stud he told me he was sending," Jenny began, so Conner shrugged with a smile. "Well, right this way, then." The two of them walked upstairs, away from the customers in the bar.
"Care for a drink?" Conner offered, so she took the cup, smiled, and began drinking. "Not too much, I'm sure it's a strong brew." Stopping after a small sip, she led him to a door and pushed the door open, stumbling inside. Seeing she was about to fall, he rushed forward and caught her as well as the drink. "Still breathing, so at least they actually want to talk." He set the drink on the bedside table, laid her on the bed, and put his pack down. Scanning the room, he moved a small dresser and opened the trapdoor under it, climbing down the ladder to the building's basement.
"Mr. Blair," five voices said in unison, "good to see direct actions haven't dulled your instincts." That's always creepy, no matter how many times I hear it, he thought as he turned around.