Alia of the Knife
07-26-06, 02:00 PM
[Two players are allowed to join me for this quest. For those of you that know me, I would appreciate it if you held your hand. I'm looking to interact with players I have never roleplayed with before.
Enjoy!]
He was walking down the path of loneliness.
Ted the Terrible, once a nation’s hero, seemed all but nameless in this land. He’d left his galley in the same sea that had ruined her, reaching Scara Brae with a small rowboat and sufficient luck. With robes the color of oil hiding his appearance, Ted had escaped detection at the harbor: No doubt there would’ve been a fuss if someone had learned that he was a skeleton that could move, think, and speak.
It wouldn’t have come as such a surprise to his kinsman, and it burned Ted that he couldn’t reveal himself – not yet, anyway. Under the cloak of midnight, the skeleton-man moved through Brokenthorn Forest like some sort of specter, his robed form so black that he appeared a silhouette, even against such a dark backdrop. Moving at a breakneck pace, an observer might have thought Ted was gliding.
Oceanic breezes left a stain of dampness in the night’s frigid air, and the surrounding forest was anything but silent: The forest – much like Ted, who, again, was nothing more than a human skeleton – was alive. Owls hooted, the crickets chirped, rodents scurried along in the dark. If the bone-fletcher paid heed to the sounds, he betrayed nothing. The creatures of the forest meant nothing to him, and he nothing to they.
Until there came a noise easily distinguishable from the dissonance of the forest.
It was a clicking noise, soft but rarely missed. Never missed twice. The sound was that of a Giant Spider, and Ted, who had frozen in his tracks, readied the shortbow that had been slung over his shoulder up to that point. He watched carefully, and listened. If his flesh was restored he would’ve been in a cold sweat, and adrenaline would’ve been racing through his veins. If only his flesh was restored.
’My flesh.’ A pang of poignancy formed in the archer’s psyche, and he came to the decision that he had little to worry about. Why would the giant spider be interested in him? Dejected, he replaced the bow upon his shoulder, and continued along. He heard the click-speak of the spider again, and then the shrill shriek of an ill-fated forest dweller. Ted wouldn’t have to worry about the spider anymore.
Weighing in at twenty-seven pounds, Ted’s footfalls made no sound upon the dirt pathway – this attribute made it fairly simple to detect that someone was coming upon him from behind. Ted turned, and was alarmed to see torchlight – he had neither heard the flames, nor seen the unnaturally abundant amount of luminescence it cast. Surely, the wielder was a mage, or a man adept in the arcane arts; who else could have hidden these things?
“Ted,” the figure spoke, gathering the skeleton’s attention. The figure was tall, and spoke with a basso voice. His face was obscured to normal vision – Ted’s was anything but normal. He saw the face of a horrible creature perched atop the broad shoulders clothed in brown, mighty tusks of ivory extending several inches skyward, sharpened as a razor’s edge; soulless black eyes; and grotesque amounts of facial hair that could’ve been fur, given the pig-like nose also present.
But the archer knew this was not how things were. ’Breathe,’ he pointlessly told himself. It calmed him nonetheless, habitual and instinctual but effective.
“I have come to deliver a message,” the man continued, approaching. Ted started for his bow. “Don’t be alarmed, I hold no ill-will,” the man said a moment later, ceasing his movement and holding his hands in the air with his palms facing Ted in a gesture of peace. The hood upon Ted’s robe dropped slightly, and then slowly elevated: He was scanning the man. There were weapons, he noted, but…
Ted was a treasure-hunter. He would allow this man to say his piece. The fletcher’s hands returned to their positions at his side. “Continue,” the skeleton-man said rather flatly, not wanting to betray his interest.
“Alright, let’s see here,” the man said, digging into his robes with one hand as he moved towards Ted. He was just a pace’s length away, and Ted knew that he was no longer hidden by darkness: This man could see his body without restriction. But he wasn’t surprised. This made Ted rather suspicious, and even more-so that the man could not find the parcel he was looking for.
“Found it!” the man ejaculated just moments before Ted had planned on dashing away.
It was a parchment rolled and sealed. The man held his hand out, and waited for Ted to take it. The former hero’s robes slipped down his radius slightly, revealing his bony hands completely; still, there was no unnatural reaction from the man – and Ted still could not see the man’s true face, although the animalistic version he had envisioned before had dissipated. Then, as if Ted’s mind had been read:
“Ahhh, you’re wondering why it is that I’m not surprised about your appearance, yes? Well, I knew what you were before you even landed at the docks four days ago. I’m not going to say how, but at least you know why.” This caused Ted to worry: He thought that he had gone unnoticed. The docks were so, so dynamic! How could they have known when he had landed, what had separated him from the others?
He looked at the parchment in his hand: Maybe he would find out. He looked back up to find that the enigmatic man, whom laid claim to no singular face, had disappeared.
***
The parchment read:
Dear Guildmate or Affiliate:
Your assistance is required in resolving a certain problem.
Krazz’ Thunderfist, an ambitious and often troublesome addition to the Scourge, allowed a shipment of our product to be pilfered (this is the explanation that you receive, however there is some dispute to the claim). We have captured Krazz’ and he remains under constant surveillance and lockdown, but his partner is still missing – not to mention the four attackers (Thunderfist has admitted that to be the number of assailants).
We would like for you to get your hands on the property that has been taken from us, and return it. You shall be rewarded accordingly – however, we need all of the people involved either captured or killed. We have reason to believe that the people responsible for this ambush were pirates who may live in a small port town north of Scara Brae, however you will need to confirm this.
Two others shall be assigned to assist you in your task, guild mates or affiliates both. Wait for them at the Sword & Board tomorrow evening.
Let they sword and pace be as swift as the wind, and good luck.
***
There was no signature. Ted mused over the letter as he sat at a table in the dimly lit tavern known as the “Sword & Board.” Quite clearly, it was impersonal – the last line alone confirmed this. But he took that with a grain of salt, because that man who had spoken to him the night before did not at all seem uninformed. Lacking the lore he required to determine who the letter was from, Ted simply waited at his table in the corner of the room for the companions he was promised.
He wondered… would he be able to reveal himself to them? Excitement found its way into his bones.
Enjoy!]
He was walking down the path of loneliness.
Ted the Terrible, once a nation’s hero, seemed all but nameless in this land. He’d left his galley in the same sea that had ruined her, reaching Scara Brae with a small rowboat and sufficient luck. With robes the color of oil hiding his appearance, Ted had escaped detection at the harbor: No doubt there would’ve been a fuss if someone had learned that he was a skeleton that could move, think, and speak.
It wouldn’t have come as such a surprise to his kinsman, and it burned Ted that he couldn’t reveal himself – not yet, anyway. Under the cloak of midnight, the skeleton-man moved through Brokenthorn Forest like some sort of specter, his robed form so black that he appeared a silhouette, even against such a dark backdrop. Moving at a breakneck pace, an observer might have thought Ted was gliding.
Oceanic breezes left a stain of dampness in the night’s frigid air, and the surrounding forest was anything but silent: The forest – much like Ted, who, again, was nothing more than a human skeleton – was alive. Owls hooted, the crickets chirped, rodents scurried along in the dark. If the bone-fletcher paid heed to the sounds, he betrayed nothing. The creatures of the forest meant nothing to him, and he nothing to they.
Until there came a noise easily distinguishable from the dissonance of the forest.
It was a clicking noise, soft but rarely missed. Never missed twice. The sound was that of a Giant Spider, and Ted, who had frozen in his tracks, readied the shortbow that had been slung over his shoulder up to that point. He watched carefully, and listened. If his flesh was restored he would’ve been in a cold sweat, and adrenaline would’ve been racing through his veins. If only his flesh was restored.
’My flesh.’ A pang of poignancy formed in the archer’s psyche, and he came to the decision that he had little to worry about. Why would the giant spider be interested in him? Dejected, he replaced the bow upon his shoulder, and continued along. He heard the click-speak of the spider again, and then the shrill shriek of an ill-fated forest dweller. Ted wouldn’t have to worry about the spider anymore.
Weighing in at twenty-seven pounds, Ted’s footfalls made no sound upon the dirt pathway – this attribute made it fairly simple to detect that someone was coming upon him from behind. Ted turned, and was alarmed to see torchlight – he had neither heard the flames, nor seen the unnaturally abundant amount of luminescence it cast. Surely, the wielder was a mage, or a man adept in the arcane arts; who else could have hidden these things?
“Ted,” the figure spoke, gathering the skeleton’s attention. The figure was tall, and spoke with a basso voice. His face was obscured to normal vision – Ted’s was anything but normal. He saw the face of a horrible creature perched atop the broad shoulders clothed in brown, mighty tusks of ivory extending several inches skyward, sharpened as a razor’s edge; soulless black eyes; and grotesque amounts of facial hair that could’ve been fur, given the pig-like nose also present.
But the archer knew this was not how things were. ’Breathe,’ he pointlessly told himself. It calmed him nonetheless, habitual and instinctual but effective.
“I have come to deliver a message,” the man continued, approaching. Ted started for his bow. “Don’t be alarmed, I hold no ill-will,” the man said a moment later, ceasing his movement and holding his hands in the air with his palms facing Ted in a gesture of peace. The hood upon Ted’s robe dropped slightly, and then slowly elevated: He was scanning the man. There were weapons, he noted, but…
Ted was a treasure-hunter. He would allow this man to say his piece. The fletcher’s hands returned to their positions at his side. “Continue,” the skeleton-man said rather flatly, not wanting to betray his interest.
“Alright, let’s see here,” the man said, digging into his robes with one hand as he moved towards Ted. He was just a pace’s length away, and Ted knew that he was no longer hidden by darkness: This man could see his body without restriction. But he wasn’t surprised. This made Ted rather suspicious, and even more-so that the man could not find the parcel he was looking for.
“Found it!” the man ejaculated just moments before Ted had planned on dashing away.
It was a parchment rolled and sealed. The man held his hand out, and waited for Ted to take it. The former hero’s robes slipped down his radius slightly, revealing his bony hands completely; still, there was no unnatural reaction from the man – and Ted still could not see the man’s true face, although the animalistic version he had envisioned before had dissipated. Then, as if Ted’s mind had been read:
“Ahhh, you’re wondering why it is that I’m not surprised about your appearance, yes? Well, I knew what you were before you even landed at the docks four days ago. I’m not going to say how, but at least you know why.” This caused Ted to worry: He thought that he had gone unnoticed. The docks were so, so dynamic! How could they have known when he had landed, what had separated him from the others?
He looked at the parchment in his hand: Maybe he would find out. He looked back up to find that the enigmatic man, whom laid claim to no singular face, had disappeared.
***
The parchment read:
Dear Guildmate or Affiliate:
Your assistance is required in resolving a certain problem.
Krazz’ Thunderfist, an ambitious and often troublesome addition to the Scourge, allowed a shipment of our product to be pilfered (this is the explanation that you receive, however there is some dispute to the claim). We have captured Krazz’ and he remains under constant surveillance and lockdown, but his partner is still missing – not to mention the four attackers (Thunderfist has admitted that to be the number of assailants).
We would like for you to get your hands on the property that has been taken from us, and return it. You shall be rewarded accordingly – however, we need all of the people involved either captured or killed. We have reason to believe that the people responsible for this ambush were pirates who may live in a small port town north of Scara Brae, however you will need to confirm this.
Two others shall be assigned to assist you in your task, guild mates or affiliates both. Wait for them at the Sword & Board tomorrow evening.
Let they sword and pace be as swift as the wind, and good luck.
***
There was no signature. Ted mused over the letter as he sat at a table in the dimly lit tavern known as the “Sword & Board.” Quite clearly, it was impersonal – the last line alone confirmed this. But he took that with a grain of salt, because that man who had spoken to him the night before did not at all seem uninformed. Lacking the lore he required to determine who the letter was from, Ted simply waited at his table in the corner of the room for the companions he was promised.
He wondered… would he be able to reveal himself to them? Excitement found its way into his bones.