Raiders of the Lost Tomb (Closed)

[Winterhair]

I apologize for the title. But hell, it fit. Anyways, this is a thread closed to Arcanafang, The Bloody Son and Mithra Reborn. If you want to get in on the action, post here. (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?p=125618#post125618)

"Vincent, take a look at this." Samantha murmured to the swordsman, her black dress swishing as she walked over to him. Her twin scimitars hung at her hips, sheathed and ready to be used at any time, practical weapons for the ex-prostitute demoness to wield. On her back she wore the scythe containing the spirit of Skeith, which had been remarkably quiet on this hot Fallien day. Then again, all Fallien days were hot. Her blue eyes never leaving Vincent's silver ones, she handed him a sheet of parchment, faded and torn from use.

The streets of Irrakam were packed, as usual. The capital of this desert continent, Vincent and Samantha had ended up here for the first few days, preparing to traverse the desert sands. Samantha had bought some new clothes for herself, outfits consisting mostly of corsets and long, black dresses. How she could stand this heat and not sweat to death with her raven hair and attire, Vincent would never know. He guessed it was in her demon blood, but who the hell was he to understand? He just knew that he must have lost ten pounds alone from sweating so much in this constant heat. He had picked up a desert cloak himself at Samantha's urgent request, as she had told him the sand storms would rip him to bits. He seriously doubted that, but had bought a light one anyways. It was comfortable, he had to admit, and had already shrugged aside his black coat for the lighter colored cloak.

As for their carrying supplies, well, Samantha again had managed to achieve something Vincent never could have with his forthright style; a bag of endless holding. At first, he didn't know what the hell she had been talking about; who had ever heard of a bag that could hold endless amounts of items? But when she opened up the bag and pulled out her swords, changes of clothes, water, rations, maps (from Radasanth), and the scythe, he got the idea. Something like that should have normally been way out of their price range; even a warrior like him understood that. When he had asked her about it, she had only winked and giggled girlishly, leaving him with the words; "I just guess I'm more...influential than I thought."

It had been more than three days since they had first arrived to Irrakam, and already the wandering warrior was impatient. His feet itched for the feel of the road again, his hands twitching at the urge to grab his newfound claymore, swing it around like a madman screaming "SOMEONE FIGHT ME!", just for a bit of action. Dullness was dangerous, it seemed, and it made Vincent Winterscar not a very happy man.

"What is it?" He growled, not even bothering to read it before asking the question. His silver eyes scanned the words as he held the parchment out before him.



LOST TREASURE TO BE FOUND
My fellow Fallien people, there is a legend untold that you should know about. Long ago lived a mighty sorcerer, who served the wise and powerful Thaynes with messages of their words. Through many acts of remarkable feats, the sorcerer gained the confidence and trust of many. However, at the same time, his brashness and blatant display of his powers created fear amongst some of the different orders, and soon the sorcerer was hunted down as a wanted criminal.
He flew across the sands, trying to escape his pursuers before eventually being trapped in the Mountains of Zaileya, cornered like a dog. The seven warriors who had trapped him then fought him to the death, each of them sustaining major injuries. However, even after his death his power exploded, and threated to rip the very mountainside apart in its rage. Desperately, they worked together and sealed the power away within each of their own items, giving their life to cause the mountainside around them to crumble and trap them forever.
These items are still there my friends, and are awaiting to be claimed!
I will be waiting for repliers to this at the Orc's Breath tavern, two days from now. Otherwise, I will go off alone and find the treasure myself!
-The wandering minstrel, Soss the Mop-

"What do you think?" Samantha said to Vincent after he read it, handing the parchment back to her.

"I think its a bunch of bullshit." Vincent snorted, his silver eyes glowing in irritation. "A dead sorcerer's tomb and some little gimmicks don't interest me. You can go, if ya like, but leave me outta it." With that he started to walk away, the black katana at his side bouncing against his hip with each step.

Samantha smirked as she uttered a few more words, crossing her arms over her ample breasts and raising an eyebrow. "Are you sure? Its said that one of those 'gimmicks' contains unimaginable power, and make a person three times as strong as the average man."

He stopped, and without moving he said in reply; "Where did the thing say he would be?"

[The Bloody Son]

From Suravani's Oasis, Cell and Marrow thundered across the plains to the western side of Fallien - or so he thought. The night air was chilly on the back of the massive steed as she raced across the beautiful flat lands with the stars glowing overhead. Cell hugged tightly to Marrow's back as the raw power of the horse rippled like a silken silhouette across her muscular shoulders and strong haunches.

Are you alright back there, Cellius? The mare questioned as she pushed harder, following the river southwards, assuming that this is the way Mya wanted them to go. There wasn't any way to get further west, they both assumed...

"I'm good, Marrow. Just cold...please hurry. The sun is rising..." Cell's eyes stared into the distance of the horizon as the fear caked his voice. His worry was apparent and the horses speed and stamina burst, picking up speed.

Alright - I'll try and find you some shelter, will you be okay until then? Marrow wondered, slightly concerned about her new master.

"I'm good for now. All I need is some sort of cloak or something so that it doesn't touch my skin. Maybe some blood later on from some small desert animal..." Cell closed his eyes and hugged the steed. Marrow's chest flexed with her deep breaths and her mind wandered to the worst case scenarios...

The sun was coming up soon. The boy fell asleep, perfectly balanced between the giant shoulder blades of Marrow - her back being broad and cradling his small biped form with ease. Her mane rippled in the wind and covered most of his head and back, to his legs which would protect him mostly from the sun - but his ankles and feet might end up with scarring if she didn't move fast enough.



:: :: :: :: ::


Marrow followed the streams to the west as the sun arose and found the city across it's side. She had continued pushing south and west even though she passed some sort of ruins to the east a while back - she proceeded without waking Cellius, who seemed exhausted from the previous few nights. Into Irrakam, Marrow moved slowly between the buildings and then paused in an alleyway to stare at all of the peasants who were totally bewildered at the size of her form and that there was someone who wasn't of the desert tribes atop the horse.

Cellius ... wake up, we're in shelter...

The boy stirred and arose slowly to look around. Shops lined each side of the high walled buildings and music played from several different areas. Bartering and trades were being made all over the place and yet a large area had paused to stare at him quietly. A man in a regal outfit approached with two guards and his scowl and narrow face were not of the friendly type.

"Boy! Where did you get that horse? We heard the Knash was on the uprise and that horse is a Suravani Pure. Speak up or be imprisoned!" The narrow faced man barked at the vampire and the boy seemed to wonder what to say.

"I..." Cellius cleared his throat and sat upright, his pallid features dimly lit against orange fires and warm sun that peaked over top of the surrounding buildings. "The Knash attacked the Esseker and Deklan and I just happened to be around to help them out a little - so they gave me a horse for my help and troubles..."

"A likely story! The Esseker are a small peoples and wouldn't have just given one of their most prized horses to you - just a boy! What could you have done to help their people? Can you prove yourself?" His crusty lips cracked when he groaned his complains and the boy sat there wondering.

Lifting his hand, the shadows from the surrounding walls ebbed at his command and spiraled around the open faced palm. The energies of the dark source swirled and licked at his lithe digits and the man took a step back, with the guards aiming spears and stepping uniformly forward. The power snapped and faced when his hand closed and the man stood there with a ghastly expression on his lips. "A ... vampire? We ... we haven't seen one in ages here in Fallien! And the horse? Your name?"

"A gift from the Esseker and Deklan tribes. I'm Cellius VanGras. If this is the legendary horse you speak of, do you think a boy like me would have been able to mount without any problems?"

"... true. Very well then, stranger. We thank you for aiding them. We were about to send out a party to assist because the Knash have been a bane to our way of life here in Fallien for ages. I am Regent Kas Mans. Find me if you need aid or supplies for your help. But beware - there are eyes and ears who have heard of your story and as of now, might hunt you... the Knash are vile." With that and a swish of crimson robes, the Regent of Irrakam was on his merry way with guards in tail. People still stood around the boy and his horse, speaking of various things and whispering new rumors and legends of the boy's feats. It wasn't anything special that he did, just helping a family he never had, Cell thought.

As he sat up on the horse, he heard 'Bullshit' and looked over his shoulder to see a silver haired man and a woman in black. That voice...

"Vincent?" Cell squinted and then yelled again over the noisy bazaar and the skuttle of people in the road, "Vincent!"

[Arcanafang]

Wren really wished she knew why Coro sent her to Fallien. The mage had simply given her a light warm weather cloak to keep the sun off and then speak the words of a teleportation ion spell. The girl hardly could show surprise as light engulfed her and flung her half way around the world.

Teleportation was not a pleasant experience for the wolf girl. The magical transportation tended to make people feel sick to their stomach and cause numerous headaches. Next thing Wren knew was that she was on her knees and in the middle of a sandy street. The girl’s wolf ears pinned back as the sounds of the city assaulted her head. The screaming of “The Best Spices in all of Fallien!” was the worst. Wren felt her body shake and waver.

“Are you ok miss? Desert sickness isn’t pleasant.” A young man kneeled beside the girl. The youth was the only one to care since other people of Fallien rarely cared about an outsider. The kid had dark skin and a warm smile though he was dressed in rags. The unknown youth then kneeled beside Wren and put a waterskin to her lips before forcing her to drink. “Better now?”

Wren painfully swallowed the water before pulling away and spilling some on the sand. “I’m fine; it isn’t heat sickness.” She worked her way to stand as the teleport sickness wore off.

“Thank you young man.” Wren heard the voice of another man. This one was tall and dressed in fine silks. “Here’s a coin for helping the lady. Spend it well.”

The youth’s face was in shock as he caught a flicked gold coin and smiled widely before running off.

Wren felt herself in awe as she stared at the newcomer and his purple robes.

“Well I take it that you’re Coro’s Girl?”

Wren nodded and tried to smile politely.

“Well this is for you.” The man smiled and handed Wren a note.

“Um thank you, mister.” The wolf girl bowed and swished her tail.

“Don’t worry about it. Coro needs you to accompany this man. He’s hunting artifacts and you have to make sure they aren’t going to be dangerous.”

“Ok. I’ll do my best.” Wren said as she bowed again looked at the note. It was a promise of adventure and treasure if they would show up at the Orc’s Breath Tavern. The place sounded out of place in Fallien but then again, Wren had only just came in a few moments ago.

Even in the evening the marketplace was still bustling with all kinds of sounds. “I guess I need to find this place.” Wren said to herself as she walked down the bazaar and wishing that her master would tell her what she was doing before sending her off.

[Mithra Reborn]

"Mmmmm...that's not worth it," The merchant told Darcy after a long pause.

"But ser," She protested, forcing a smile to show her teeth. "These spices are freshly picked from R'uuya, top quality as well. Surely this sand silk robe and water provisions is enough for such fine delicacies." The irritated tone she had was slightly hidden by her attempt to sweeten it, but it was still none the less obvious that the longer she went without the cool, crisp feel of the fresh water provision running down her throat, the more the heat was like to drive her crazy.

"Can you show me the seal of sale that proves you bought these fair and square?" He asked suspiciously. Darcy held out her arm to show some merchant's family sigil or another. he curtly nodded and exchanged the goods. Afterwards, Darcy swallowed the goods in her toned arms and carried them to the inn she and her first mate Deilio were staying at.

"Any luck?" She asked him as she opened the door with a spare elbow. Deilio got up from where he sat by the window and took some of the provisions, for it looked as if some were slipping. "I can't believe he actually bought that forged seal of sale," Deilio said in his warm, mirthful voice, the Dheathainian accent sweet on Darcy's ears.

"I can't believe we escaped the spice farm without coming out looking like over-sized porcupines," She retorted. "That had to have been one of our more dangerous missions. So, I repeat, any luck?"

"Well, I looked at the bounty board downstairs, and not much was there. The only thing slightly interesting is this crackpot old bard wants us to run into these abandoned ruins riddled with traps and have us get him something..."

That made Darcy pause. "Where is the rendezvous?" She asked. "Those ruins are riddled with traps, yes, but riddled even more with treasure!"

"Then why not just go to the ruins and screw the formalities of having to bring something back to this old coot?" Deilio asked, a brown eyebrow arching in amused astonishment. "What's that pirate motto? 'Take what you can, give nothing back'?"

"What made you think I was going to give him what he wants?" she asked Deilio, a quirky smile forming as well. "So, where is he going to be exactly?"

[Winterhair]

A single voice carried through the air before Samantha could provide a sarcastic remark or snide comment, calling out Vincent's name and causing both of their heads to snap toward's the source of the sound. Samantha looked at Vincent with a raised, black eyebrow as he grinned widely, immediately recognizing the vampire even though he too had changed since their last encounter. "Cellius! Its been awhile, ain't it?" He called back to the other swordsman, cupping a hand around his mouth to shout over the hustle and bustle of the market place.

Samantha laid one hand on Vincent's muscled arm as she gestured to the smaller man, her lips cherry red as they moved with her next words. "You know him?" She asked, her other hand on the hilt of one of her scimitars. Cocking an eyebrow at her wariness, Vincent replied. "Yeah, I do. Fought 'im at the Citadel once, he was pretty good. Handy with that sword o' his." Samantha nodded but watched the vampire across the way with narrowed eyes. "Whats up with you?" He sneered down at the ex prostitute.

She glanced up at Vincent before returning her blue eyes to Cellius once more. "He's a vampire." She said with a small note of disgust in her voice. "All of the vampires in my life haven't been all friendly, and I'm not willing to believe that this one is too."

Vincent's silver orbs blinked. "How'd you know he was...?" He left the obvious question unfinished.

Samantha smirked. "I'm a demon, love. We know other monsters when we see 'em." Standing on her tip toes she lightly pressed a kiss on Vincent's lips. "Which is why I'm so interested in finding out just what you are."

He smiled as he leaned forward and kissed her back, then drew his attention back to the vampire as he slowly made his way across the street, pushing others aside with his bulky frame as Samantha followed awkwardly, trying not to cut anyone with the exposed edge of Skeith. "How're you doin', kid?" He said to Cellius once he got over, noting the horse that the boy held reigned in.

[The Bloody Son]

The horse moved instinctively to meet the man who was pushing his way through the crowd toward her master. Marrow's instinct and intuition was growing at an exponential rate due to their natural bond and constant contact through the entire ride over the past night. She was beginning to react like Cellius - as an extension of though and comprehension - and with this, she acted as he would, to meet their friend.

"I'm doing a lot better now that I found someone I know!" The boy grinned rawly and his incisors gleamed in the warm ambient light that shown across the buildings. Cell looked to the woman who followed with a strange look and furrowed brows and then decided to be nice, as he was taught. "She's beautiful, Vincent. Is this your wife?" Vincent, as Samantha did, knew that she obviously wasn't human and her natural resonance hummed with something he learned from his father and knew as a demonic resonance. Cellius, unlike Samantha, gave her the benefit of the doubt.

"I've been through hell and back it seems since our fight. I've had flaming boulders hurled at me. Saved a village. Was nearly mauled by cats that thrives in the shadows. Acquired this beautiful mare, Marrow - a Suravani Pure. And ... encountered a few huge lizard men, one in particular who pretty much wanted to kill me - I think... so you can imagine my happiness when I saw you." His breathing had quickened and the sway of his hands seemed naturally surreal as he spoke of his ... misadventures. He grinned, slightly exasperated and then laughed heartily and his eyes smiled and then back to Vincent he looked.

"Do you know of any cloaks that will block this sun so I can be out in it? A treasure of sorts? I'm dying for something... this desert heat is killing me..." The boy leaned against Marrow and rubbed her neck gently.

[Arcanafang]

One problem with Bazaars is that if you lack money, they start to get old, quick. Wren wasn’t much of a shopper anyway since there was a strange pragmatic side to her. Sure a cute dress now and then would be fine but she really only shopped when she knew what she wanted. But Wren didn’t know what she wanted and didn’t have the coin to buy any magical items.

So she just looked for the Orc’s Breath Tavern. It would probably be best to get there first. Wren needed to be accepted into the part if she was going to get what she needed. Coro had felt it was important enough that she be teleported here then it was too important to fail.

Thankfully the Inn was easy to find. The place had a dirty wood sign that stood out from the other signs that were canvas painted in pretty colors. But the inside was the big change. The people were dressed like most Coronians with cotton clothes and most the women were tall compared to those outside and they seemed to show their bodies much more. Wren really preferred the girl wrapped in silk as it felt much more elegant (As well didn’t make her feel lacking.)

The men were also the usual Rowdy types that were in the taverns of Wren’s homeland. If it wasn’t for the heat and the occasional Fallien in a Turban, Wren would have thought she was home.

“Now I just have to find that bard.” Wren whispered to herself with her tail flicking nervously. There were a couple of men in the bardic clothes but the wolfgirl really
Couldn’t bring herself to ask unless she was certain, afraid that asking the wrong one would dash her hopes.

[Mithra Reborn]

"Have you been in the ruins before Darcy?" Deilio had asked, waiting for her outside the door to the bathroom while she changed to more suitable clothing for the hot weather.

"Once," Her muffled voice came from the door. "Ransieg led me on a raid there. He got lots of treasure while he was there, there's no doubt in my mind. I never got to take anything because I was just dragged along to learn. Fathers are like that. But it's no easy place to navigate, with enough booby traps to turn you into a poisoned, beaten bloody porcupine, so the best thing you can do is choose garb that prioritizes flexibility and movement over protection."

Deilio had to roll his eyes a little. "Sounds fun," he said, not trying to hide the lack of thrill in his voice.

"Oh come on, it'll get your adrenaline pumping!" Darcy objected. With that said, she came out from the bathing room. She was dressed in the dark green sand silk dress she bartered for at the market. It was a low cut piece, with extra tails of fabric that form a very long, big scarf or head protection should one so choose. the material brushed lightly against her curves and fell loosely past her knees after her hips. From there, you could see her slender black leather boots, but not the knives within them. Her raven hair flowed down her back in waves and curls. The only slight flaw at this was her eye patch. It was not the prettiest, and nor did she have a missing eye, but should she be plunged into the dark suddenly, then it helped her to know she had an eye already adjusted.

"If you don't mind me saying Darce, you do look beautiful," He told her with a smile. "You should wear sand silk more often. It suits you."

She smiled a little bit and pondered at it. "Does it now? So, when an enemy ship comes up from behind and someone slashes at my belly, I'm screwed. But I agree, I do like sand silk." On that note, she tossed the ends of the huge tails of cloth around the shoulders and walked downstairs to find this...Soss the Mop.

The Orc's Breath was packed, there were no two ways around it. It had a mustiness to it. In one corner, dwarfs sat smoking from long, intricately carven pipes of different woods, some with precious jewels inset. Candles burned from every angle of the room, but still left it a little dim. Darcy saw many bards in the corner. A particularly green one noticed her, and came before her with a swirl of his red cloak. "My dear lady, this world knows no greater travesty than to see such a fair maiden's face be marred." He took her hand and kissed it lightly, a rosewood harp in his other hand.

He looked a cocky lad from Corone, with youthful blue eyes, pale skinned with freckles and flaming red hair that tumbled past his ears in large curls. His hands were curiously soft to her calloused hands. His smile was wide and white with well-cared for teeth.

I bet he's a bad singer, She thought. He's too headstrong to deserve such a talent.

"Your complements are most welcome," She told him politely, taking her hand out from his. "However, I am on business, and have no time to deal with green boys who know nothing about wooing women." She past by him but he quickly touched his fingers to his harp and sung out a tune in a wonderfully warm tone that wasn't as low as a man's voice normally was:

Alas, my love, you do me wrong,
To cast me off discourteously
For I have loved you well and long,
Delighting in your company

Deilio sighed and shook his head in the background of this, putting his eyes in the palm of his hand. Another cocky singer who hoped to sing his way into Darcy's bed. She had to smile at the lad's attempts. But she had a response of her own:

Alas, my lad, you do me wrong
To pursue me so discourteously
For you have 'loved' me not so long
Your eyes dancing over my body

Greensleeves was nothing new to Darcy. The lad looked taken aback for a second, but recovered with:

Alas, my love, you do me wrong
To accuse me so discourteously
I've not thought such thoughts in quite long
Delight me with your company


A response was tingling on Darcy's lips, but suddenly she realized something that put a pang in her stomach. Resisting the urge to smack herself, she asked, "And to which lad do I speak to?"

"Soss the Mop, at your service," He said, with a tip of his hat.

I am so stupid. I could have wooed the bastard to get what I want a lot easier without this. Deilio had to have realized the same because he removed his hand from her face and gave her a 'don't even think about it' look.

Still playing mother hen, eh Deilio? Darcy curtsied to this singer. "Darcy Ombremer," She replied with a smile. "May I entreat with you a moment, good singer?"

The eyes of the pub had fallen on them in this little sing-off, but when Darcy sat with Soss the Mop in a corner table, the music became forgotten, and they went back to their affairs, a passing interest that sounded sweet when it happened, but was nothing terribly worthy of their time to pester for more.

For the fools who have not heard Greensleeves before: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EG8WFxAlXDE&feature=related