The First Drop (OPEN)

[Djakara]

Open to two. See here for more info.

Brothers of blades, sisters of scorn,
Hellbent witches, of demon-born,
Walk with death ‘till you’re worn,
When you fall we all shall morn.

That incantation had never been heard around Ettermire until a few days ago, but it seemed to Djakara that it was becoming quite popular in recent days. The young refugee turned Alerian opportunist had been wandering the bazaars nightly, just to understand the kinds of goods that were sold openly in Althanas’ capital of technology. While the boy wasn’t particularly impressed, what he had noticed was the way this refrain had recently become a natural part of life within the city, just as violence in the Bazaar had begun to increase.

Initially, Djakara had assumed the increases in violence were just a little blip that had occurred after the death of the Queen, a natural reaction by any rogue or opportunist that had to be passing by Ettermire. The city normally had a reputation for particularly efficient law enforcement, and it would have only been rational for criminal elements to take advantage of a momentary lull. However, as Djakara looked over the crime reports in the morning paper, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more sinister at work.

Everything that was happening in Ettermire seemed to be fitting a pattern. First, there were a few seemingly random acts of violence and the next day, Djakara heard a few people mumbling the incantation about blades and scorn. With time, both the violence and the popularity of the song grew with a consistent correlation. Djakara knew it wasn’t a coincidence, and it concerned him. As little as he cared for the current government in Alerar, he cared even less for a group of thugs. Additionall(y, through his ingenuity, Djakara had managed to develop a stake in the government, and he wasn’t willing to lose it to some local disturbances.

Cognizant of the problem, Djakara had written a letter to Schynius explaining the situation. He had used terse language, but impressed on the High Graf that something needed to be done. Now, sitting on his balcony, the boy waited impatiently for a response.

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. Djakara answered it, and it was a letter. The boy smiled curiously, it had an official seal and the envelope carried Schynius’ symbol on it. “Guess I’ll know how he stands now…” the boy thought, eagerly anticipating the response he would receive. He expected to be commended for his deductive powers, and perhaps even offered more opportunity by Schynius because of his good planning. However, as Djakara read the note, he was less than pleased with what it asked of him.

Djakara Fraye,

Excellent analysis, though this issue is one of great sensitivity at a time like this. I don’t think I need to impress on you just how dangerous this threat can be to peace and stability. The Mazzra’s loyalty still needs to be tested, but your self interest does not. Therefore, in the interest in keeping your observations within as close of a circle as possible, I will leave this business to you to settle. Work quickly, and hire as many as two mercenaries if necessary. I will personally cover their costs, just as long as they are not native Alerians. Work discreetly.

High Graf Schynius

Djakara looked at the paper with a sigh. He had no choice now but to do what he was told, despite the fact he didn’t particularly consider himself the kind of person who should be put in charge of actual conflict situations. Though he certainly wasn’t without ability, Djakara had made his fortunes by being smarter, not stronger.

However, since he had no other options, Djakara made his way to El’inssring, Ettermire’s largest pub. The boy intended to find a particularly inconspicuous corner to wait in until he had managed to identify some mercenaries worth hiring.

It was going to be a long day.

[Kak Zalta]

On the road leading into Ettermire, a large sign had been erected bearing the well-distributed orders from the king for all incoming travelers to see.

"Though the Queen's death plagues us all in these dark times, our work must begin. Cloaked shadows move like wild fire, committing their travesties wherever their feet fall. In these times, heroes must step up. Mercenaries who fight for honor, the sword, love, money, whichever fancies them the most. The seasoned warriors of Alerar have too many duties on their plate to complete everything at once, and so the throne now calls upon any who will answer. The rewards will be great; with riches beyond your wildest dreams, fame so that you will be recognized and praised anywhere in Alerar. Through Ettermire's throne you echo through eternity.

Our armies have been sent out to enforce a few new laws.

1.) All citizens of Alerar must pledge fealty to our King Edari'axa. No militia will act independently of his will; any that do will face exile at the threat of decimation.

2.) None shall carry a weapon, besides a small blade, in the streets of Ettermire, unless they have the proper pass for this. Guards are, of course, exempt.

3.) Any information about the assassins who cruelly took our Queen must be sent to Ettermire at once. We cannot let such a plot go unpunished.

The Kingdom of Alerar shall rise proudly over any challenge, and so shall any adventurer willing to join its side.”

There is much in the message that pleases Kak. The death of a monarch, “cloaked shadows,” travesties, the love of money, and riches beyond your wildest dreams. However, the second rule, regarding weapons, makes Kak nervous. Distrustful and paranoid, Kak is disincline toward being unarmed. Advancing toward the walls, Kak spots a guarded checkpoint at the gate ahead leading into the city. Guards give brief inspections to each individual before they pass through the city walls, checking for weapons and asking for information regarding the assassination of the queen.

Rather than risk trying to sneak by the guards with his short sword and shield, Kak retreats down the path and waits for suitable “aid.” A slow moving cart filled with a load of industrial supplies, gives Kak the perfect opportunity. Stepping from the roadside, Kak walks behind the cart and slides his sword and shield under a canvas covered pile.
Kak picks up his pace, nodding to the merchant leading the cart as he passes them on the road before the city gate, placing himself in line just ahead of the cart. The line moves rapidly as the expert guards quickly check each traveler. Kak comes to the front of the line and the guard addresses him.

“Welcome to Ettermire. What is your business here?”

Kak has no need for deception now, his business is legitimate in this fabled city of technology.

“I am here to learn of the wonders of Alerarian industry. Your skills and knowledge are renowned throughout the lands.”

The guard is not distracted in the least by the flattery. His thorough visual inspection is completed, the tunic and pants Kak wears not leaving much room for hiding objects.

“What is in your backpack?”

Now Kak is slightly nervous. Several explosive devices are in the pack and he fears the guard will react poorly. Rather than try to weasel around the problem, Kak confronts it head on, pulling one of the light bombs from his pack and tossing it to the guard.

“The products of my trade. This device will produce a brilliant light when ignited. And this…”

Kak now produces a clean smoke bomb.

“…is most useful in producing awe inspiring smoke effects. A number of people will pay good money for this type of thing, mostly performers and entertainers wishing to wow the crowd with something a bit ‘extra.’ I hope to improve my techniques and wares while staying in this city.”

Kak conveniently leaves out the high explosive bombs nestled at the base of his pack. The guard pokes through the pack for a minute but fails to notice the third variety of bomb and returns the pack to Kak.

“Very well, you may proceed. Remember, no weapons on the streets and don’t cause any trouble.”

Kak does his best to walk at a measured pace away from the gate, his eyes locked on the back of the cart that is now a few blocks ahead down the street. The merchant, apparently well known to the guards, was waved through without a word from the guards and Kak was now in danger of losing his weapons.

The cart makes a turn and Kak hurries to catch up, staying to the edges of the streets to avoid the crowded walkways. Turning the corner, he spots the cart parked in front of a large tavern, El’inssring. The gnome walks quickly to the back of the cart, sliding his sword and buckler out of hiding and placing them under his backpack on his back while hurrying into the pub. The darkness inside gives Kak plenty of spots to hide as he moves around the room, someone watching him carefully would only see his face flash occasionally into view as he passed low hanging, candled chandeliers along the wall. He finds a table bathed completely in shadow and sits, scouring the crowd for possible threats, informants, allies, or, more likely, victims.

[Arsenic Ruin]

Once again he was home…

Or at least close enough to it, moments ago he had just left the company of his mother, who had just became drastically ill; inflicted with a virus that the local medic couldn’t quite identify yet. However, with his father it was a different story, the battle worn commando, had just congratulated him on his improvement with his curved blade - which had just begun to feel like the original broad sword- only to bad mouth the young warrior about his poor performance in a practice match. Life started to look up at some points, and became more comical in others, such as his resent run in with the law for being mistaken for a crook that was terrorizing Alerar, who had been apprehended just moments after Arsenic’s capture. The young hero could only laugh, and apologize for looking so criminal when carrying a parcel of food to his mother’s cottage. It took the guards long enough to realize the joke, but they came around just before Arsenic shot them an odd look. It was a fond memory.

So now he was paying a visit to El’inssring, it had been only moments ago that he had been in the booming city of Ettermire. Once on an errand with a young man named Chidori, and another time to meet a mysterious partner per request of his father and instruct, the first time he gained quite a reputation at a banquet, and amongst the guards so much so they considered him one of them. Mind you he did his part of law enforcing when he could to aid his comrades in attempting to keep the peace.

But now he was coming to El’inssring on a different agenda. For some relaxation, as he stepped to the gate he gave a nod in concordance to a guards “Hello”, and it was a welcomed exchange as he was ushered into the city. His hand was kept close to his weapon, he was for the most part secure though most folks eyed his sword no one questioned why he carried it or why he was the exception. Even if they did, he wouldn’t quite know how to respond let alone defend himself. And as he proceeded into the pub, he was welcomed by the odor of elven liquor and smoke. His lungs clenched before he belted out a series of rasping coughs, and meshed into the crowded tavern for a drink and a laugh.

He took his seat, his weapon being placed on his lap as he scooted his legs under the table. His right arm touched that of a waitress calmly and politely as he mad his request, her eyes were beautiful, which slowed down his appeal came as a gibber of words, from a clumsy tongue.

“Could drink I have yes please?”

She snickered a bit, before giving him a funny look and her response to his open display of attraction.

“One more time, this time put it in order.”

Arsenic felt his face heat up, his composure returned to him as he brought his right hand to his mouth in a balled fist, and cleared his throat. His voice came out smooth, as if he hadn’t even messed up in the first place.

“Could I please have a glass of water.”

She nodded to him.

“I will have that to you right away.”

[Djakara]

Soon enough, Djakara was disillusioned by the lack of viable recruits available in the great tavern. Since he had been limited to only those who weren’t native citizens, there were few available that met Djakara’s criteria. Given the recent political upheaval, now was not a time when many frequented Alerar. However, the alien refugee eventually found the first person that he could possibly qualify as acceptable, a short little goblin who seemed to be looking through the tavern attentively. Djakara smiled. This was the kind of person he liked, someone who was attentive and seemed to do things for a purpose.

Thus, the boy made his way over to the goblin quickly and exchanged a few quick words. He didn’t say much, he was clear, concise and to the point. In order to hammer home the importance of the mission, Djakara slipped fifteen gold coins into the goblin’s pocket, with a promise that there would be more to come if the mission went off well. It was a substantial portion of Djakara’s meager funds, but the boy thought it well worth it none the less. Allies were particularly difficult to find in Alerar, dark elves were a particularly suspicious species, and their suspiciousness had a grating effect on all those who weren’t as suspicious as them. The few foreigners that managed to tolerate living in Ettermire were the kinds of people who though similarly to the dark elves.

By the time Djakara finished talking with the goblin, he was surprised about how much he had said without getting a single word in the conversation. However, the boy had revealed all the essentials of his plan, despite the fact that his plan had still been inchoate as they had started the conversation. However, as he spoke, details of the plan began to congeal in a way that impressed even Djakara with just how ingeniously elaborate they were. The boy hoped that they would have the same effect on the goblin.

However, Djakara didn’t want to stay too long in one place. Now that the new ordinances had been passed, people who carried weapons attracted a good deal of attention. Foreigners with weapons attracted that much more. Knowing that he couldn’t afford anyone overhearing any of his details and that dark elves often prided themselves on their ability to spy, Djakara didn’t even wait for the goblin’s response.

“Just think about it…” Djakara said. “Think it over.” With that, the boy made his way over to the bar.

At this point, Djakara decided he was going to need another ally. Someone who could serve as hired muscle, so that if there was any dying that became necessary, he wouldn’t have to be the one doing it. Finding such a person might have been hard if not for the fact that Djakara spied a young human talking over with a waitress. One look at the weapon the man held in his lap was all Djakara needed to know that this stranger would be an excellent second edition to his team.

“Hey there…” Djakara said, sliding down into another chair at the human’s table without waiting to be invited. “You’re new in Alerar, right? I’ve got a job, the kind of job that can get you in good with some of the big locals here, and also pay right. You interested?”

That said, the boy tried to smile disarmingly. He imagined the way he had plopped down so suddenly may have been a bit alarming, but in truth, Djakara couldn’t think of any other option. He needed to get the team assembled fast, if the goblin accepted, Djakara didn’t want to waste any time. However, before the boy could get any response from the swordsman, their conversation was interrupted by a gun shot. Toting a shotgun and an entire belt of shells, in walked none other than the rabid dogboy Branzillo Gaeden, with an entire gang in tow.

“Rghuff, I'm here to collect…” the dogboy called out. He began humming the tune that had become popular in the bazaar malevolently as his men went around with sacks, instructing the patrons to put their money into them. “I wouldn't be sneaky if I were you,” Branzillo warned. “I'm here with bombs…” He howled triumphantly.

[Kak Zalta]

Hidden in the darkness, Kak listens intently to the conversations going on around him. To his right, a young, mildly drunk merchant complains to a woman about the checkpoints at the city gates slowing his busy. The woman acts supremely interested, both in the finer points of commerce and in the young man. She sidles up closer to him on the bench and Kak smiles as her hand snakes to his belt, relieving him of a small purse.

A small act, but worthy of praise. I must congratulate her later if I get the chance.

Scanning the room, Kak next spots a green skinned, pointy toothed creature slinking his way, carefully surveying the room but paying no heed to the gnome sequestered in the shadow.

A goblin. Normally delightful creatures, their simple minded vileness can be very refreshing. This is the type of fellow I need to meet around here.

The goblin is passing just in front of Kak’s table and the gnome nearly calls out when Djakara appears and stops the goblin. The boy begins a rapid, hushed monologue. Kak moves in ever so slightly, straining against the background noise to eavesdrop. Money is passed and the two part ways, the conversation taking only minutes. The goblin heads one way, clear of the tavern, the boy the other.

Kak leans back, allowing a pleasured grimace at his findings. The details of the plan were unclear, lost to the buzz of the room, but Kak heard enough.

This Branzillo, the dogboy he called him…he would reward someone for the information I now possess. This has worked marvelously. Not only might I destroy that zealot of the law, I stand to gain the favor of a renowned villain. This has been most productive.

Standing from his seat, Kak turns toward the door just as Branzillo Gaeden rushes into the scene with a blast from his shotgun. Lowering himself back into the shadows, Kak watches the scene unfold.

“I’m here with bombs…”

How convenient. If I am not mistaken, this must be the “dogboy,” the great Branzillo himself. And he has a propensity for bombs. I don’t think this could get much better.

Hidden in the shadows, Branzillo’s thugs completely miss the hidden patron in their collection duties. Kak stands quietly and slings his pack onto his back after retrieving two high explosive devices. Hooking his thumbs into the trigger devices, he strides boldly but quietly from the shadows towards Branzillo. Benefited by his height and the confusion in the bar, Kak gets to within eight feet of Branzillo before his thugs notice the diminutive gnome. A shout goes up, weapons swing onto target and Kak fears for a moment that his boldness will cost him everything. But the thugs hold their fire long enough to notice the two explosive devices in Kak’s outstretched hands. In the moment of hesitation, Kak speaks, directing his words at Branzillo.

“You aren’t the only one who likes bombs. I have a few of my own. Not to worry, I have a much greater interest in helping your cause than hurting you. For a share, of course.”

Kak smears his most endearing smile, a hideous stretch of teeth, malice and greed, across his face as he waits for Branzillo’s reply.

[Arsenic Ruin]

“Hey there…” Djakara said, sliding down into another chair at the human’s table without waiting to be invited. “You’re new in Alerar, right? I’ve got a job, the kind of job that can get you in good with some of the big locals here, and also pay right. You interested?

The first that that shot into the mind of the young hero as he looked towards the new company he had managed to draw was “rude.” Though he was taught specifically never to judge those that just present themselves to you, he couldn’t help it. This person had just sat down before his drink was even served as like some pre-order completion entertainment. But immediately Arsenic had it in his mind that the proposition would help out his acquaintance more than it would himself, and even still would this person be even considered a companion or more of a passer by?

Arsenic put his hands on the table, drumming exposed fingers against the hard wood top. The drumming became soft taps, and the taps became no more than his finger tracing the age lines in the wood. He found it remarkable, that even though he didn’t take part in selfish tasks this one in particular did seem interesting. But like everything else, agreeing to something important leads to a ruckus. And like a cued tape, or a track record that was set on pause only to resume at a quick pace, the fun never ended and it always began with one line.

“I wouldn't be sneaky if I were you, I'm here with bombs…”

Right on time…

And after that line, there were always the henchmen with bags, extracting goods from the patrons of a tavern. Though Arsenic’s hand was stayed on his weapon, he knew what would be in the best interest of the people within the tavern, and soon the sack was moved in his direction. His weapon was eyed and soon enough he was motioned to turn the curved blade over; of course it was pried away with much hesitation. Damascus was once again out of his reach, and it looked as if he was to get it back he would be proving himself once more.

Sadness mixed with anger, flitted into his system as he watched the henchman walk off with his prized weapon. But alas, all our hero could do now is allow them a safe passage and retain his weapon another time. Then he turned to the fellow that approached him earlier.

"Aye, I will help."

[Djakara]

Djakara was a bit surprised by the suddenness of the situation. However, the boy was more shocked that this stranger who had lost his sword was still willing to help despite the circumstance. Almost immediately, Djakara knew why. “He wants revenge,” the boy knew. It was a convenient motivation, especially for Djakara’s purposes. People who sought vengeance seldom thought anything else during that time, and that would give Djakara a substantial advantage with this man as an ally. Unlike the goblin, who would likely have loyalties and interests of his own, Djakara knew that he had at least found one ally who he would be able to string along without asking too many questions.

However, there was still the matter of the situation at hand. Now that he had to hand over his money to Branzillo Gaeden, Djakara didn’t know what he would pay the goblin with if he managed to recruit a full party. Fortunately the dogboy and his accomplices were not particularly interested in Djakara’s spear-scythe. The weapon was too odd and unique for it to fetch the same price at the bazaar that a more conventional sword might.

With a deep sigh, the boy began to study his nemesis. He was certain now that Branzillo was behind all the violence that was occurring in the streets of Alerar, and he was even more certain that it was some kind of rival organization. Branzillo was too organized, too clever, and his soldiers were far too professional for this to be anything but. Given the efficiency with which they worked with, Djakara would have thought they had been trained by the Mazzra. Anyone who worked with that kind of efficiency had to have an ideology behind them, and anyone who had an ideology had to be seeking some kind of political power.

For a moment, Djakara contemplated trying to start enough commotion in the tavern to end his mission here. However, the boy soon thought the better of it. While Djakara doubted that Branzillo would actually be willing to blow himself up, the boy didn’t doubt that the threat would create a great deal of chaos. In an uncertain situation, the numbers game often won, and Djakara had just one ally against the dogboy’s well trained army.

Thus, Djakara merely sat and endured the indignity of the robbery, each moment studying Branzillo to get a better understanding of his nemesis. For a brief second, the boy allowed his mind to wander as to whether anyone else in the tavern was doing the same thing, but he scolded himself for it almost immediately. This was a life or death situation, even though it seemed in control. Djakara should have known better than to let his mind wander. He never would have survived in the Republic with that attitude. “Damn Althanas luxuries, making me sloppy…” he thought, chiding himself.

With the robbery now completed Branzillo Gaeden raised a sack of stolen loot in the air and repeated his song. All of his soldiers joined in, and Djakara noticed that the bartender was singing along too. Soon after, the boy watched as Branzillo made a particularly bold declaration, the kind only made by someone who was way too confident in their legitimacy.

“Ruff ruff! If you want to become rich… then come with me! Ruff ruff, woohoo!” the dogboy declared triumphantly.

Djakara shot back a look to his newfound ally who had just lost his sword. “Stay here,” he said. “Watch who goes with them, and we’ll figure out a plan based on that…”

[Kak Zalta]

Unexpectedly, Branzillo does not reply immediately to Kak’s intrusion. Kak stays his hand as the tavern bursts into a raucous song, some of the patrons joining in with the strange tune. As his men carry the tune, Branzillo turns and replies to Kak, but also makes an open invitation to all the occupants of the room.

He recruits brazenly during a raid. An audacious but convincing tactic. This man is dangerous, not only to others, but to himself. But, he has pulled it off so far, his cunning must be formidable.

“You are a courageous villain. I will join you and riches will come to us both.”

Branzillo only gives a slight nod in acknowledgement before he signals his men to pack up and head out. This they accomplish in orderly fashion, several thugs heading into the street first to check for guards before Branzillo and the rest of the gang enter the street. One of the crew, a wiry man with dark eyes, grabs Kak’s arm.

“Stay with me and don’t get lost. We move fast around here.”

Kak nods in understanding and brings up the rear of the crowd headed out the door. No alarms is raised, no guards appear, and it seems Branzillo has made off with another plentiful bounty. The riches gained tonight would provide a healthy share for each of the men. But riches are not the only motivation in Kak’s mind. Wealth is a nice side effect of a life of crime, but the true pleasure for him comes from the opportunity it affords to cause suffering. It doesn’t matter who suffers, so long as pain is afflicted. It is this motivation that fuels Kak’s actions as he backpedals out of the door.

“Have a fine evening folks. You will be hearing more from me soon.”

Kak takes a few steps into the street, giving the occupants a chance to relax before he pulls the trigger from one of his explosive devices, holds it for a moment to let the fuse burn, and rolls it back through the door. The occupants of the room would have only a split second to take cover before the device would explode and fill the air with deadly shards of lead.

Kak is several steps behind his guide when the bomb explodes. A gleeful grin adorns the gnomes face, his ears straining expectantly for the screams of the injured. Thus enters Kak Zalta to the underworld of Alerar.