Valeena's Ignorance [Scara Scourge Quest - Closed]

[Nein]

It was there.

It was within the snarling facial features staring into an empty sky. It was within the very stench that reeked from the dank pits of dark men, handling crates and passing them between one another without care or compelling reason. It, in a matter of speech, was the Scourge, and though this night represented little to the common Scourge thug or hired hand, to its leaders this night was much, much more.


“How’s the product.”

Not a question, an order.

“It is.”

“Good.”

Clearly, a conversation less clear than what it concerned; the matters of higher positioned Scourge were always muddled in one type of crime or another. As the two men looked to each other, a crate dropped in the distance brought a glancing scowl to the captain’s face. Opposing him, the younger man nodded in understanding before leaving quickly to investigate.

“Bloody idiot!”

“It wasn’t me, it was ‘im, stupid git!”

“Oi, both of you shut it and get this shipment moving.”

Hushed whispers were spoken back and fourth, before the final voice interrupted. It was the very man who had been speaking with his captain only moments before. Obviously agitated, one of the men glared at the other and picked up the crate and continued towards the docks. As a lantern flicker caught one final glimpse of the crate, an empty skull half-crushed in and outlined in a circle of thorns could be seen, painted crudely in crimson as a mark of the Scourge.


Looking over the docks and darkened streets, the captain bore a broken smile and sighed before taking another drag of a worn out cigar. “Valeena’s gunna be mighty pissed when ‘e see’s this mess, bloody wanker.”



- - -


“Three hundred.”


“Absolutely not.”

“You need me.”


“N..not necessarily. Not you, specifically.”

“You’re new at this recruiting thing, aren’t you?”


“Of course not.”

“Righhht…”

In the expanse of several hours, the amount of progress that had been made could be equated to the amount of progress of two stubborn men arguing over the expanse of several hours. So as much as the Queen’s guard needed new recruits to aid the law enforcement of Scara Brae, it could not happen as long as Drenn persisted on receiving a greater wage than any other recruit. Sweeping the onyx locks that fell over his face, an adamant tone about his nature, Drenn raised a brow in scrutiny.

“How about four?”


“That’s going higher.”

“So?”

As such, it seemed a tireless conversation that would only end when the desk closed. Of course, that left several days for the Fallien native to make as many attempts as he seemed fit with his rather limitless time for visiting foreign continents. After all, if one was to find a purpose to life, it might as well be rewarding in a materialistic manner.

[Eusimoto]

"Aye, he is."

The guard spun, bringing the point of his rapier to bear on the man in the shadows. Kalamu donned a mask of nervous fear, and raised quivering hands in surrender.

"Now...let's not be reckless, Captain..." He'd spent years perfecting his shaky, pathetic routine. Now, it was near flawless.

"Who're you?" the man demanded.

He gulped. Always a nice effect. "A'lil Vokafta, Captain." The brute's eyebrow twitched. He recognized the name, but couldn't place it. "The informant," Kalamu clarified. The Captain dropped his scowl, and his rapier.

"I tho' you didn' wanna be present for th' transaction."

He said the word oddly. Transaction. Extra emphasis on the "sac." As if it was a word he'd never used until he picked it up for this job.

"Aye...but things...changed." And that wasn't far from the truth. Things had changed, rather inconveniently. And unfortunately for A'lil Vokafta, the turn-of-events had to now end in his death. It was a pity...Kalamu had enjoyed this alias, this body. But, all good things had to come to an end. Next time, he wouldn't be careless enough to be seen slipping a letter into a mailbag--a mailbag to Sess Terria Hold. His work with the Scourge had shown him just how wide their roots spread, and he knew it would be only a matter of time before word of his betrayal got back to the leaders. But, by then, "A'lil Vokafta" would be dead. "How did it go?" he asked.

"Just's ya said it would," the Captain said, turning back to the line of grimy, hulkish men.

"Good. So...now what do we do?" It was a question he asked often--which was amusing, because he rarely didn't know the answer. But, like gulps and trembling fingers, the effect was nice.

"We wait," the Captain muttered.

[Jimmy LeBlanc]

Jimmy LeBlanc lay on his back, observing the dark blue sky. There were countless, countless stars up there, standing resolutely against the infinity of space. Jimmy's hands were folded behind his head, his fingers crushed between his thick, long hair and the rough, hard surface of the roof. The night was cold, but the patch of surface where Jimmy lay had absorbed and now returned his body heat. A half-smile was plastered on his face as he began to realize and continued to enjoy his new lifestyle.

Jimmy was a vampire, sired a week before, and he was enjoying every minute of every day he had spent with his new abilities. So far he had discovered his strength, his enhanced senses, and his most favorite, the ability to levitate. It was this last power which had brought him here to the roof to enjoy the fresh night, his new day. Even so young, as far as vampires go, he had felt the discomfort of the burning sun. It couldn't kill him yet, but it was mostly unpleasant to stand in its light.

The docks were quiet at night. A few flags fluttered against their poles, and a couple of bells clanged upon the gently rocking boats, but when compared to the busy and bustle of the docks during the day, the place was deathly quiet. And Jimmy revelled in this fact. He was beginning to understand that this would all be his. As he grew in strenght, he would become the noble of the night, the lord of the evening, the duke of the darkness. Jimmy LeBlanc would come to one day rule the night, and he liked that his kingdom was so quiet and calm. He could do whatever he pleased, whenever he pleased, once he had the power, and he felt that the power would come with time. He was on a different path, certainly, than anyone would have guessed for him, but he found himself strangely comfortable with shutting himself off from the world. He hadn't kept up constant communication with his family back home, and his friends didn't seem to matter so much anymore; he took comfort in his ability to survive on his own.

The strangest part had been feeding. The action itself, oddly enough, hadn't been the strangest part. He had tore into his victim's flesh without thought. He had slaked his thirst with the young man's blood instinctively. The strangest part of the strangest part had been his disconnectedness. And as he lay there, smiling on some foreign roof, he was pleased with his complete transformation. It didn't occur to him that he might be losing his humani-

Something thumped in the distance. It was very quiet, almost completely covered by the sounds at sea, but Jimmy heard it. He didn't think much of it, and so didn't realize that his senses may have perceived something terribly far away, or even within a building. Jimmy paid no attention to that bump in that night that would be part of the very struggle that would threaten to take Jimmy's new life.

[Seth_Rahl]

Ifrit brushed passed the people in the street wearily, ignoring the stares he got. He was too tired to care. He had been out hunting in Brokenthorn forest, but unfortunately the forest seemed to be unwilling to give so easily to him and he had returned to town empty-handed. Unhappy and weary, he had taken Beowulf hacked a path through the forest, and was now going through the streets with his blood-red eyes hidden by his silver bangs.

Things had been oddly calm lately. After a couple of missions he had completed he had gained enough gil to pay the innkeepers and had brushed off his fighting skills, but now it seemed like things were slowing down. While he might've, at some other point in time, appreaciated this change in pace, he was wishing for some action and soon he would be in some dire need of money.

Little did he know he was going to get more than he wished.

A man bumped into him forcefully, and that was enough to shake Ifrit out of the walking stupor he was in. "Hey!" he snarled, baring his fangs. "Watch where your going!" But, to his surprise, the figure was already gone. That was odd... Ifrit mentally scratched his head and was about to continue on when he noticed something different. He thought about it, then realized as he pulled his cloak back -

His purse was gone!

"Damn it!" he swore. The man had been a pick pocket! Without a second thought, he automatically turned on his aura sense and spun around. A barrage of auras hit his eyes, but he immediately picked out the object he sought, for he had imbued his money with his own aura for just this occasion. It was rapidly moving away, at a frightening pace.

Towards the docks.

[sherin]

(sorry it took me so long i couldn‘t find the thread)

Sherin had been traveling hard for many hours and had just arrived at the town. It was night so there wasn’t much to see, there where a few people walking home from a local tavern or something but other than that no one was out.

Sherin decided the most likely place where he could get a room is near the local dock, so he headed on his way.

On his way Shensho warned him of a person with ill content heading towards him at a very fast pace, so Sherin drew his blade and prepared.

A little pick pocket came careening around a corner and practically ran right into the blade, but Sherin had moved it in the last instant and slammed his fist into the fool’s face.

“I would suggest you find who you just stole from and return his property NOW!”

The thief quivers on the ground nearly unconscious from the hit, sees the blade in Sherin’s hand and curls into a ball.

“Ok ok ill do it.”

Sherin picks him up and asks Shensho to find the owner of the stolen property.

Shensho quickly finds the person who this thief had just stolen from and makes a telepathic link with the man.

“it seems that we found your little thief, were near the dock’s come here and we’ll let you deal with him.” Shensho say’s directly to the mans mind.

[Seth_Rahl]

"It seems that we found your little thief. We're near the docks - come here and we'll let you deal with him."

The thought came directly into Ifrit's mind like a lightning bolt, and automatically the demon put up mental barriers inside his head. He didn't know if they would hold against a powerful psychic, but the least he could do was try. But when no such attack came to being Ifrit cautiously lowered the barriers. He felt the connection with whomever had contacted him was still there, so, taking advantage of it momentarily, he sent a quick direct thought back. "Who are you? How do you know I was robbed?"

Suddenly he felt the direct impression that he wasn't speaking to a person at all; he felt he was speaking to a creature. What insanity is this? The demon thougt, and jumped off of the building he had been standing upon straight down onto the decks, unsheathing his great blade in mid-air. No one was about to call Ifrit unprepared.

But as he landed and his red cloak flew out behind him, all he saw was a silver-haired blind samurai standing there, motionless in the wind.

[sherin]

Shensho sends a quick message to the person.

“I just know.”

A little while later Sherin sees a demon land near by its cloak flutters around it, the creature had blood red eyes and white hair, to most people the appearance would be frightening but Shensho suppressed Sherin’s natural reaction and was barely surprised at the landing and sword from the warning Shensho had given.

Sherin sends a mental message to Shensho ‘this is the guy right?’

‘Indeed.’

Sherin looks at the creature and laughs slightly.

“Took you long enough. Here’s your little thief, by the way I’m Sherin. What’s your name?”

[Seth_Rahl]

Do we have a posting order? If so, then I have already posted too much and I apologize.

"I just know." The mysterious voice echoed through his head once more, and Ifrit felt the connection sever before he could send a thought back. However, as he landed on his feet with his giant blade in one hand and the other on his iron dagger, he felt that he wouldn't need to be able to talk telepathy any longer. The blind samurai stood over a small, disheveled man, who simply gawked up in fear at the demon as he held out Ifrit's purse.

"I'll take that." Ifrit growled and snatched his purse back, lest the thief have any tricks up his sleeve and try to run again. Using his aura-sense, Ifrit confirmed he had the right purse before giving the man on the ground a sharp kick and said, "Now dissapear, lest I decide to kill you anyways."

The man did simply that. With a squeal at the kick and not a look back, he took off running, sending dust from his feet. Ifrit turned to the samurai and spoke softly, to reassure that he was no threat to the man. "Thank you. It's not often you see chi-" He stopped in mid sentance as he took in the man's aura.

Although it was not immense, it was so strange that Ifrit was taken aback for a moment. it seemed to seethe around him, flowing around his sword and clothes like a giant serpent. Even as he thought this, twin pairs of eyes seemed to peer out at him.

"...You are the one who told me about the thief, weren't you?" Ifrit asked cautiously. This man reeked of mystery and the unknown, and the demon's hand strayed to the hilt of his giant blade once more.

[sherin]

Sherin had never seen a demon before, and to tell the truth he wasn’t very impressed, sure the sword was huge and all but other than that he could see no obvious sign’s of power, or danger.

Sherin smiled at the demons question.

“In a way I guess I am.”

‘Kill him Sherin, you can’t trust demons.’ Shensho said to him in his mind.

“No that’s rude and dishonorable, sheesh that’s a bad idea.” Sherin said out loud by accident.

‘It doesn’t matter do you think a demon has any honor? NO, it will kill you with out even think twice!”

“So that doesn’t mean I have to be dishonorable and strike an unready opponent. That’s MY honor at stake HERE! I will not.” Again out loud.

Looks directly at the demon.

“do you happen to know of any good inns nearby?”

[Nein]

“Heh,” the light laugh lingered across the tip of his tongue.


Drenn knew his position well, and the other? Not so.


. . .

Upon the dim eve wasted a single candle, desperate in its inferior motive, struggling within the confines of a glassed cage. Already the war of intellect raged beyond this lone candle, a mere bystander of the verbose disagreement in which this icy eyed foreigner continued. All hope waned for the more anonymous recruiter, unable to convince one man to meet with the terms of utter reality and more sophisticated purpose.


It was luck, then, that another man of equal interest (that saying, none) entered and leaned over carefully to avoid the fair skinned stranger. In fast talks of silent tongues, the two whispered between significant pauses before the intruder left promptly and the recruiter looked suspiciously different.

“There’s commotion, we need to leave.”

Covering the mess of hair he struggled against pulling out, the recruiting guard capped his own head with a symbolic guards cap and became another drone among society’s law makers and justice upholders.

Naturally flawed in assumption, the guard rose but Drenn refused, remaining slouched in the opposing chair in a play of ignorance.


“Fine, four hundred.”

“Four fifty.”


Shock or perhaps astounding horror reflected upon the guards face. “Are you aware that those were not the terms we agreed on!?”

“Oh, well… I’ll be here when you get back.”


Staring down the other became futile, as proved over the previous hours of enduring arguments. “You will receive a bonus if you aid us now.”

“For the queen!”

Perhaps it was the shining smirk upon his boyish face, or the utter dismay upon the guards, but the sarcastic response was called for. Regardless, Drenn had agreed to the terms of this employment and would soon find himself in the service of his new queen. Tonight was simply initiation.


. . .

It could be seen upon the dimly lit streets that an intimidating group of stout men had taken to a light run. Each of their number was clearly uniformed, and still anonymous in general appearance save the latest addition – a smaller, younger man of fairer looks and smaller build. Drenn had received a rather oversized guards cap and a worn sword of sorts before they had taken off in such haste, though it did not seem his place to inform them that he was not aware he had remembered any lasting technique or skill with such a blade, and that this combat would be the first experience of escalated violence or the like he had seen since his militia training.


Still, he ran among them, if not eager with anticipation.

After all his work in the previous years as a prepared soldier of the Fallien militia, there was no excuse not to prove his homelands sheer ability in such a situation as this. As the looming fog of an oceanfront lined by docks settled around them, two darkened figures appeared ahead in the street.

“Out of the way! Royal Guard!”

It was the voice of his supposed captain, though Drenn hadn’t met the man officially.


. . .

After holding pace for another five minutes, the darkened figures of at least ten men appeared slowly before the group turned to meet the oncoming guards. All looked alike, save the last man, garbed in red and clearly in charge as several others saluted him before talking in hushed voices between them. Looking around, each of the men appeared somewhat nervous, or those who didn’t grinned – knowing full well what they were to soon meet. Many of them enjoyed the prospect of taking out an entire band of scourge, and given the opportunity, would include a series of beatings that would teach them the real meaning of justice.

“Scourge members are still loading, just down the docks.”


Even without the red garb, Drenn noticed the man’s authority.

“This is an official arrest, aye? Remember that. We’re to detain these men without a fight as long as they allow it. If things get dirty though, don’t hesitate to crack some heads. I don’t want any of us you boys on the wrong side of a sword tonight. More than thugs, these are Scourge. Don’t ferget it. Smithy, take yours ‘round the far side to flank – Ace, you’re sticking with me.”

[sherin]

Sherin was unable to hear the demons response because a man yelled at him and pushed him out of the way.

‘Some guards going to attack some well known bandits.’ Shensho reported before Sherin could even think of asking.

“Oh, really maybe we should go and help out, this might just get interesting.” Sherin paused he had meant to say this mentally but again said out loud, he still hadn’t realized he was talking out loud. “Maybe they know a good tavern I’m starving.” Sherin said as an afterthought, and headed out after them.

They where heading straight for the docks.

‘Hmmmm… it seams that one of the ships is being raided by the bandits, and the guards are going in to stop them.’ Shensho reported.

“Wow… this is so exciting, I want to get a good view, is there any good ones nearby?”

‘There's one on that roof should get us a good view of the spectacle.’

“Good.” And headed for the roof indicated.

[Jimmy LeBlanc]

He could hear them talking. Wait. They're not talking. They're whispering. He smiled with boyish delight as he impressed himself once again with his heightened senses. He sat up using only his abdomen and rubbed his hands together, forcing the pins and needles out of them. They had fallen asleep between his head and the roof, and he didn't enjoy the unpleasentness. He brought himself to his feet and headed over to the edge of the roof.

It was a good-sized building, probably three stories tall, with a shallowly sloped roof. His feet carried him gracefully near to the edge of the building, and he peered down into the street, his hair slipping past his ears and hanging about his face. He looked to the left first, towards the sea, and then to the right. He could see a group of men standing in the road, discussing earnestly amongst themselves. Jimmy recognized their mischievious intent in the hushed tones and their postures.

Interesting.

That notion of his new position crept back into his skull. I wonder what they're planning to do in my kingdom, he mused, scratching his beard with his now pins-and-needles-free hand. I suppose, as king of these lands, that I may have to oversee their actions and ensure that my people's peace is not disturbed.

He smiled rogueishly and crouched down so that his dark form was no longer backlit by the full, ivory moon. A light, salty sea breeze rode over the rooftops of the dockside buildings and ruffled his cotton clothes and long hair. He breathed in the salty flavor and closed his eyes in complete tranquility. It was good to be king.

[Eusimoto]

And wait they did.

Silently--apart from the occasional coarse profanity--the crates made their way along the docks. At one point an argument ignited over which of two piles of crates should be transferred next, and the Captain walked down onto the boardwalk main to sort out the matter.

Feeling slightly more comfortable with the added space between himself and the captain, Kalamu glanced up at one of the lampposts. The encased candle had waned considerably.

They would be here soon.

Casually, he glanced back down at the scourgers. He admired them somewhat--mortals trying to throw their allegiance to something longer-lived than themselves. It was more than most did, at least. But tonight, that dedication would be tested.

Time passed, measured by ever-shrinking stacks of crates, the measured beat of breakers on hulls, and the slowly dying candlestick in the streetlamp.

And then something caught his eye.

Just the faintest glimpse of fabric in the shadows of an alley south of the loading dock. The faintest hint of a royal uniform. But it was enough. It was happening. It was happening now.

"Royal Guard!" he screamed. A whirl of flame blazed to life around his palm and he let fly, sending the fireball hurtling across the boardwalk and into the shadowed alley. The projectile glanced off the soldier's shoulder and burst on the brick building behind him. The guard fell back to the ground, the flesh and leather armor on his shoulder smoldering, too dazed to realize his cloak had caught fire.

"We've been betrayed!"

[Jimmy LeBlanc]

The mischevious intentions of those men in the street instantly exploded as a fireball raced through the damp night air and shattered against a quiet building. Shouts of surprise and anger carried up between buildings and along roadways, disturbing the relatively quiet evening. Royal Guard members raced along their planned paths, brandishing their weapons and readying themselves for the skirmish. Scourge members laid down their cargo and drew weapons of their own, including daggers, short swords, crude clubs, and crowbars. The gang members, startled by the suddenness of the attack, seemed confused. Most of them stood together by the warehouse, though a few drifted out into the nearby roads and alleyways, scared but ready. A group of guards met with a handful of Scara Scourge members. The gang came rocketing out of an alley and into the main street and collided with six or seven guards. Both sides were caught off-guard, and for an instant no one moved. Then the moment was over and men hurled themselves at one another, fighting for their lives. There had been no warning for arrest, only action, and it was unclear who had intiated the violence. The sides were no longer clear, either, as the melee swirled about in the cobbled road-way.

Above it all, Jimmy LeBlanc kept vigil. The small street skirmish was taking place only a building closer to the sea, and he watched with interest. It was hard to determine who he was rooting for. He had been taught that police were mostly for protection, to help you out, but in this case he only saw them fighting with apparent civilians; civilians he had only moments ago accepted as his own. The better equipped, better prepared guards seemed to be fairing better against the outnumbered Scourge. Noting this, Jimmy made up his mind, just as a far-off cry reached his uninterested ears.

The dark figure walked back to the middle of the roof, strolling through the pale moonlight. Somewhat nervous, he turned around to face the direction of the fight. He knew he had some levitation ability, as he had used it to reach the top of the roof; he just wasn't sure how capable he truly was. He knew it was a risk, but he also knew he had to try and live up to his new, self-appointed role as king of the night.

With quick steps he headed for the brink. His arms pumped and his hair bounced as he sprinted over the slated shingles. As he reached the edge, he cast himself off in a sort of dive, with his arms stretched far to the sides and his legs pinned together straight out behind. He plummeted head-first towards the street, his white cotton shirt rattling hard against his skin. He was hurtling towards the skirmish, and he was already too close.

Suddenly, his momentum slowed, and he shifted from head-first to feet-first. His body just whipped around and he bent his knees and arched his arms, as if he were going to land on a horse's back. Instead, it was a Royal Guard's back, and it was a bit harder than he'd hoped for.

He was unused to his levitation, and had slightly over-estimated it. True, it had slowed his descent, but not enough to make the landing graceful. He had come in at steep angle, but an angle nonetheless. The vampire's knees and elbows hammered into the guard's back and shoulders, and the guard toppled forward. Jimmy's body wasn't ready for and couldn't support the impact, however, and his chest slammed down hard on the unsuspecting guard, mashing his face into the cobblestones.

No one else in the fight seemed to notice anything strange, so occupied were they with their own personal fights. The numbers were only slightly in the guards favor, but it was making a big impact due to their training and arms. No one had been killed, but there were spatterings of blood on the road. Jimmy LeBlanc struggled to his feet, though his victim made no such motions (or any motion at all, for that matter). Already the vampire's pain was lessening, and he was regaining his bearings. Suddenly, he was forced to dodge a wayward swing of a sword, and he reared back into another fighter. He whirled around with his fangs beared and received an elbow to the face for his troubles. He clamped a hand around his pain-buzzed mouth and threw a hardy elbow of his own in the general direction of the kidney of the man behind him. His joint made contact with something, but he couldn't savor it as again he just narrowly avoided a swinging blade.

It was a confusing place to be. Bodies swirled all around, and the vampire received almost as many hits as he was dishing out, though he knew not where his blows came from or landed. He only knew that he was in it now. And as the blood from his mouth dribbled out between his lips, he was content in knowing he was at fighting for his kingdom.

[sherin]

Sherin watched in delight of the show of skill and agility the men demonstrated as they fought for their lives, it wasn’t the death Sherin was interested in it was watching truly skilled fighters going at it.

‘Look just below us, a vampire is on the prowl.’ Shensho said then laughs ‘but it seems like he is new to being one.’

Sherin glances down at the creature. “Interesting I’ve never seen a vampire before.”

‘Well you better not get to friendly they are vicious creatures.’

“Yah, yah that’s what you said about the demon, and he was kind enough.”

‘Yah well… shut up.’

Sherin laughs at Shensho’ s annoyance.

“Lets go and help, this looks like it would be to much fun than to just watch.” Sherin says as he goes down the same way he had come up.

Sherin sees his first opponent when he jumps out from an alley and makes a vicious swing, if not unskilled swing with his short sword at Sherin’s head.

‘Duck’ Shensho says and forces Sherin’s body to the ground.

Sherin quickly gets to his feet and gets into a fight with the man.

“You are no fun please leave I don’t want to kill you.” Sherin asks.

The man just growls in response.

“I’m sorry then, may god have mercy on your soul.” And chops the mans head off, and goes looking for his next fight.

[Taskmienster]

This thread has been sitting for a full year. Since no response has been made to create activity I am going to be moving this. If you would like it to be reopened please feel free to PM myself or another admin and they will be able to move it for you back to Scara Brae.