 This all started with Ethys Hlaalu, you think to yourselves, as you wait for the guards to let you free from the muddy outdoor prison you have wound up in. The late Ethys was a prominent House Father of the Great House from which his family name was derived. His nick name that was used amongst the people of Balmora, the Old Cliffracer, came from a less reputable source: Cliffracer males, when not harassing travelers, were constantly mating with whatever female they could find in order to give unto the world even more flying nuisances. As the elf had fathered twelve legitimate children with four separate wives and a countless number of bastards with women of the night, it was only appropriate that he be given the moniker of the animal closest to his nature. Apart from aggravating the Temple's faithful with his inability to stay faithful to anyone he was married to, Ethys was well loved and respected. After all, someone who brought so much work and coin to Balmora was worthy of praise, and his easygoing nature made him easier to relate to than the other local bigwigs, Nileno Dorvayn and Ralen Hlaalo. Unfortunately, the trouble all started when the Imperial Government had laid its eyes upon the profits of Balmora. The town had grown too big for its own good, and now was second only to Vivec in population. Due to a technicality in Imperial law, Balmora was placed in a higher tax bracket than it could support near the end of 3E425. The Old Cliffracer, feeling responsible for the ensuing hike in prices and unemployment that followed, promised to get Balmora out of the mess it was in. And it even seemed like he would for a moment, until a Morag Tong blade dug into his heart. Following the public execution of Ethys, the political climate changed dramatically for the worse. Anti-Empire sentiment, previously kept to nothing more than a disgruntled whisper when the rent came in, overtook Balmora, and in the blistering heat of Sun's Height in 3E426, a revolt took place. A local militia of a hundred angry townsfolk, armed with weapons looted from the local Hlaalu armories, killed a couple dozen Imperial troops and Hlaalu Guardsmen, imprisoned whatever guards were left along with "Imperial sympathizers", and then occupied Balmora for several days. The revolt was put down as quickly as it started when a cohort of battlemages and infantry arrived from Fort Frostmouth to put down the revolt after an attempt at peaceful resolution was made. And this is where you come in. After the revolt, Hlaalu Guards rounded up anyone was suspected of being a rebel. Unfortunately for you, you met that profile according to them. Whether it was a misunderstanding, a case of mistaken identity, racial profiling performed by a less-than-enlightened individual, a favor called in by someone out to get rid of you, or whatever else, you have wound up in one of a dozen large wooden pens just outside of the city walls, sitting in the pouring rain and biding your time until the guards let you out. There is one person, asides from you, inside the hastily constructed jail. A human of indeterminate race is lying near the corner of the pen, face down in the mud opposite of you all. He seems to be unconscious at the moment. A bit of blood stains his white hood. Perhaps he took a blow while resisting arrest? At least he still seems to be breathing. In any case, there's nothing to do for now but twiddle your thumbs, lament your bad luck, and perhaps talk to the others in your pen. Let's get this show on the road  . Roll your faction relationship dice, fellas.
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Jul 10, 2014 01:16
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Digs-A-Hole "They're gonna kill me. They're gonna kill me. I know it. I know it. SHUT UP INGOT YOU'RE NOT HELPING." I pace around erratically. The job was simple. Go to Balmora. Pick up fire salts. Go back to Ald'Ruhn. No footwork to speak of. Just teleport there and back. Literally no way to screw up. I was even gonna resist the urge to explore that Dwemer ruin I heard was right outside the city. "Gah! Edwinna's gonna kill me!" Hands clasps over mouth. Look around. Maybe no one heard that. I swear if Ingot doesn't quit squirming... ...Hey what's with that guy is he alright should I ask him or would that be rude maybe I should nudge him no that'd be worse well what if I... Icon dice: Just a 5 with the Mages Guild. Which is actually kind of perfect. MelvinBison fucked around with this message at 02:02 on Jul 10, 2014 |
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Jul 10, 2014 01:48
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K'zan Redpaw "Relax, scale-friend; you sound like little Ja'Khajiit with not enough moon-sugar in your belly." K'zan shifted slightly, leaning with practiced laziness against the wooden walls of the "jail", which was a laughable imitation of a real prison - his grandmother's time-out corner was more secure than this, though he grudgingly allowed that these cells were perhaps slightly better-guarded. "It's just jail, after all. If the Empire meant to have heads, these cells would be quieter. So, no worries. We'll be out by Frostfall, maybe earlier." Eyes fell on the unconscious figure sharing the cell with them - part of him what the poor fellow did to wind up clubbed, as he himself had wound up in the cells with nary a scratch. Faction: Thieves Guild: 1d6 1 Faction: Imperial Legion: 1d6 5 Faction: Tribunal Temple: 1d6 6 So. Relationship checks - bombed my positive, succeeded on my negative and conflicted relationships. Jone and Jode have mercy.
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Jul 10, 2014 02:13
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Tombak gro-Murati Tombak had been hoping to make good on his promise-- stay away from the Imperial Legion, keep his head. A simple enough deal for the most part, especially out here. Why would the Legion need to come to Balmora, after all? He hadn't expected a rebellion. And now here he was, dragged out of his (admittedly pretty suspicious) hidey-hole and tossed in a pen like some kind of... of goat. Or horse. "Horse is better," he muses, barely aware he's speaking aloud. "Proud, noble, all that." The sound of voices other than his own dragged Tombak back to the present. "Frostfall, eh? Well, so long as they change the... straw before it gets too rank, I've stayed in worse places." He squints up at the sky, scratching at his nose. "Even in Balmoral, believe it or not." Faction relationship rolls: 1d6 6 1d6 5 1d6 1 Faction: Fighters Guild - 6, 5 Faction: Imperial Legion - 1
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Jul 10, 2014 03:40
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Crassius Callei With a grunt, the Imperial man stirs from his slumber. He looks at his new surroundings, then feels around in his pockets, and then underneath him. Not where he last remembers being, nothing there, and nothing there. To top it all off, it's positively pouring. Wonderful, positively wonderful. "Urgh... Alright, let's see where you went wrong, Crassius...You walked in through the gates, got a pint of argonian ale, stepped out, got smacked in the back of the head with a staff, turned around and terrified the guy who just smacked you by taking a step towards him...and now you're here. And not alone, evidently. Hi there everyone." He stands up and checks out the strength of the structure holding him. Old, wet woodwork, made with mediocre craftsmanship. The thing feels like it'd probably snap given enough force to the right location. He begins knocking on the various parts of his cell to see where it might be the most vulnerable. "Well, no sense waiting around doing nothing. I may as well see where the walls are the weakest just in case the situation gets grim." Icon Rolls... Mages Guild 2d6=6 & 3, Fighters Guild 1d6=4 Background Check: School of Hard Knocks (STR) 1d20+3+4+1=26
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Jul 10, 2014 03:50
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Zairan Hainnabibi Zairan sits in one corner of the pen, watching as the sun moves across the sky. Zairan shakes his head and can't help but chuckle at the irony. Those drat cliffracers. Even when he avoids the animals, somehow a Cliffracer still manages to screw him. The guards took one look at Zairan before tossing him in the pen. With his chitin gear and Ashlander features, Zairan is the very image of an anti-Imperial rebel. Never mind that Zairan has only been in town for a day, never mind that he didn't know anything about the rebellion, never mind the drat group of Imperial merchants he was escorting to the city who disappeared the moment the guards showed up to take Zairan away. Didn't even pay him for the job before leaving him to be arrested. Ungrateful n'wahs. When the Khajiit tells everyone to wait patiently, Zairan replies, "Frostfall? If you think I'm gonna wait around in this muddy pen 'til Frostfall, then you're dumber than the guards who put us in here." Zairan hops to his feet as the Imperial begins testing the strength of the pen and addresses him. "Listen. My name is Zairan, and if I don't get out of this pen in the next few days, the situation is going to get quite grim. The sooner I'm on the road, the better. For everyone here. I had nothing to do with this rebellion, but I doubt the guards will be convinced." Faction rolls (Ashlanders, Ashlanders, Fighter's Guild): 3#1d6 2 5 4
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Jul 10, 2014 04:42
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Zairan The guard, a burly and young Dark Elf wearing Bonemold armor of the Armun-An fashion, strolls over. He doesn't seem to notice the Imperial man probing the boards, and instead focuses on you. He grasps the handle of his sword and laughs in your face. "Oh, really? What, are your Ashlander friends going to come get you? Are one of your witch women going to cast a curse on us? Calm down, you savage. You'll get out once we can sort through all this evidence. Than you can go back to buggering guar or whatever it is you Ashlanders do." Chuckling to himself, the Hlaalu man leaves to inspect the other pens. Seems like you're going to be here for a little while longer. Crassius You investigate your jail and find that one of the boards has not been buried deep enough. Given enough of a push, you could probably move it out of the way and sneak through. Recovering your gear, however, would be another thing. You and the others have nothing but the shirts on your backs. While you yourself are not as limited by this, the others are probably dependent on weaponry. And if you go, they'll all have to go with you. You finish your search just as the guard comes to insult the Ashlander fellow in your pen. Harsh words coming from the supposedly tolerant House Hlaalu. Digs-A-Hole Your panic attack subsiding for the moment, you approach the man on the ground. As you get closer to nudge him, you can see that his robes are made of fine silk obscured by mud and dried blood. It seems his injuries are more severe than you first thought. You nudge him, and he rolls over to face you. The man is a middle aged Breton, and he looks very green around the gills. The wound on his head is easily spotted; his hair is done in a monk's tonsure. It's odd that he has been bleeding for so long; you noticed he had the wound when he came in last night. It's not that deep that it would not have been able to heal within eight hours. He blinks at you through bleary eyes and motions you to come closer. In his hands are a piece of charcoal and a small roll of parchment; it seems he had been allowed to keep these items and was curling up to protect the parchment from the rain. He moans, coughing up a bit of blood as he does so. It looks as if he's gathering the last bit of his strength to speak. "My time's up... Read this. Go to the Eight Plates tavern. Find my journal. You must stop this all from happening. Gods give you luck." Reaching to you, he offers you the roll. His hand is shaking badly as he does so.
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Jul 10, 2014 05:31
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K'zan Redpaw The Khajiit felt his eyes roll moonward for a moment before glancing at the group, sighing quietly. Honestly, it was like these people had never escaped from prison before! "As I said friends; out by Frostfall, or maybe earlier.", he repeated, stressing the last pair of words with a bit of a frown. He took a quick glance to make sure guards weren't paying all this conversation too much mind, and then addressed his 'cellmates' again, more quietly than his last words. "Try not to get worked up; panicked people make mistakes, and mistakes are something prisoners cannot afford, yes? Look at our Imperial comrade; no panic there, or resignation, already making travel plans. Very wise, if not so subtle." Punting fucked around with this message at 06:28 on Jul 10, 2014 |
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Jul 10, 2014 06:26
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Tombak gro-Murati "Yes, you're a right clever one!" Tombak agrees, winking at K'zan. "I'd be more than happy to make some travel plans too, but they've got my things out there." He leans in towards the Kjahiit, conspiratorially. "I rather like my things, you see. We've been through a lot together." Tombak glances out at the 'evidence' pile with studied nonchalance, trying to catch a glimpse of his gear. He leans back against the wooden posts of their pen, glancing lazily at the burly gentleman testing the boards, the agitated Ashlander, the... is that an Argonian, talking to the unfortunate man in the mud? "We've got a regular menagerie in here. No wonder they've got us penned together, eh?" Pushing off from the wall, the towering Orc saunters over towards the Argonian. He squats, gesturing at the note. "What've we got here? Sounds like we've got ourselves a call to adventure, and I'm about done with this whole mud-spattered desolation scene." Tombak jerks a head towards Crassius. "I bet muscles over there can get us outside the gate, and the Khajiit's got a head on his shoulders. He could probably figure out a way to get our things back." The Orc offers a crooked grin. "How about it, gang? Up for making some trouble?" Seeking his stuff (Wis + Charming Scoundrel + Level): 1d20+5+1 10
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Jul 10, 2014 08:06
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Severia the Travelling Merc Severia finally picks herself up from the ground. Stretching, she says, "Oh that was a loving crappy nap. So, what're we talking about?" Noticing the guy in the corner and what he said, "That sounds like loving prophecy. I hate loving prophecy." She turns to the rest of the group. "Anyway, any headway on getting the hell out of here?" Icons (Fighters Guild 2 Positive, Imperial Legion 1 Conflicted, Cammona Tong 1 Negative): 4d6 1, 5, 4, 2 Oopsies. hosed the notation up a bit. Anyway since K'zan rolled a 5 with the Imperial Legion, I start the next battle with greatness.
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Jul 10, 2014 08:22
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Digs-A-Hole He didn't mind the nudging at all. What a nice guy. Too bad he's dead now. I'm not one for bars, in either context, but it's what he asked. I can make time for polite people. Not that I'm in a hurry to face the Guild, mind you... Oh hey. An orc. Don't see a lot of those at the Guild. Well not at the same time as me anyway. Wonder if there's a correlation. Oh. He was asking me something. Oh! The note! "Yes. Give me a second." If anyone can discern this note's secrets, it's me. Int background check + Digs-A-Hole + lvl= 18+3+4+1=26 After all, you wouldn't use charcoal if you weren't making a rubbing of something.
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Jul 10, 2014 14:50
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Digs-A-Hole You take the parchment from the now dead man and unroll it. Your hypothesis was correct: there is a rubbing of Dwemeris letters with arrows pointing towards them, and you've picked up quite a bit of the Dwemer language in your studies. Two arrows facing right towards the letter for B, one upward arrow and one left arrow near a E, one down for an C, and so on. Seems like instructions for something, although you don't know what. Perhaps it's at the inn he mentioned. Tombak gro-Murati You try to think of where your stuff is at. Sadly, you find that you haven't got a clue where the exact location is; you can see no weapons at all within the main evidence pile. Seems they kept the more dangerous items out of reach. All you do know is that your gear is probably within city walls and out of the rain. The guard is now speaking with an Imperial Legion officer near the main city gate. If you all move swiftly, perhaps you may be able to escape before he returns. There would be a bounty on your head, of course, but it's hard telling if you'll get out today or in a month. SunAndSpring fucked around with this message at 15:22 on Jul 10, 2014 |
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Jul 10, 2014 15:19
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Crassius Callei "Oh, I was just checking the architecture of our pens. Completely solid." Crassius memorizes the board in question and looks over at everyone who mentioned him. He tries to, in hand gestures, illustrate what he's figured out; a horizontally flat right hand presses against his vertical left hand's fingers, bending them forward as the hand continues on through. He lowers his tone considerably. "That said, considering they're working with the Legion, that means it might be worth waiting to see who's running this show. Depending on who's got final say, sneaking out of jail means either a bounty or a slap on the wrist. Doesn't matter much to me which you go with." Unknown Quantity fucked around with this message at 18:26 on Jul 10, 2014 |
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Jul 10, 2014 16:05
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Zairan Hainnabibi Zairan resists the urge to shout something back at the ignorant Hlaalu guard. As satisfying as it would be, it's not going to help them get out of here, and would most likely just make things worse. Instead, he turns back to observe the events happening inside the pen. "Prophecy, huh. In my experience, prophecy cares little about what you think of it, or how you try to avoid it." Zairan watches the guard talking to the Legion officer and mutters a quick prayer to Mephala under his breath. "Mephala, the Webspinner, though I lack the proper offering, I hope that you will hear this regardless, and grant us the skill to evade our enemies, as you did so long ago." To the others in the pen, Zairan whispers, "The guard looks distracted. If we're going to escape, this is as good a time as any." Mephala prayer, Wisdom mod + Daedra Worshipper: 1d20+4+4 19
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Jul 10, 2014 16:12
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Digs-A-Hole Satisfied, Digs hands the note off to Tombak. "Try not to lose that. The only other copy is in my head." Looking inside his robe pocket, he sees Ingot, now still and compacted into his sphere form. "Always a silver lining, don't you think?" Ingot chirps. Turning to the others, he asks, "If you don't mind, try not to make too much trouble when we get out. I need to make a stop at the tavern when this is over." "...It's not what you think."
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Jul 10, 2014 17:44
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K'zan Redpaw "This one is sure it is not" he agreed, quite amiably. That all said, the Khajiit slowly rose from the floor, and casually wandered towards their Imperial comrade and the loose patch of wall. "Khajiit is sure that none of us want to remain in here, but we need to make sure we are not spotted leaving. Perhaps some of our larger companions can block the view of our little bolt-hole until we are all gone, and follow us out?" he suggested.
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Jul 10, 2014 21:54
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Zairan Your prayer finished, you wait for aid to come to you. And, for once in your life, the gods smile upon you. The wind picks up and the rain begins to pour even harder, becoming almost torrential. Visibility has been drastically reduced for everyone in the area. Sneaking out would be trivial. A thought pops into your head as you receive your miracle: You should definitely provide a good offering to Mephala as soon as possible, or else risk incurring her wrath upon you and your tribe.
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Jul 10, 2014 23:09
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Tombak "Sure, buddy, I'll hold on to that," Tombak agrees, neatly disappearing the letter somewhere on his person. "I'm always up for a tavern crawl. Tombak, by the way. You?" The rain picks up-- or rather slams down. The orc lets out a low whistle of surprised appreciation. "Looks like the sky's providing us an even more convenient cover, Khajiit! They won't be spotting us through this deluge." He stands, then beckons to the woman and the Argonian. "Let's get over to that loose post. Looks like it might be a tight squeeze..." To Crassius, he says, "We can worry about who wants us locked up later. In my experience, the bookkeeping in these sprawling temporary prisons isn't exactly top notch. They probably won't even miss us. That is, if we leave quickly enough." Through all this, the former spearman tries to keep an eye on the Hlaalu guards through the downpour. It wouldn't do for one of them to pass right by the pen just as they're making their escape. Back alley lookout (Wisdom + Lvl + Charming Scoundrel): 1d20+5+1 21
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Jul 11, 2014 00:56
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Digs-A-Hole "I am called Digs-A-Hole. Mostly. You can just call me 'Digs'. It's less insulting than my other nickname. No, you don't get an introduction, Ingot, I'm not entirely sure these people are on the up-and-up. They are convicts after all. Don't you call me a hypocrite; I am in no mood for your sass. Oh right, the escape." D-A-H works his way to the other side of the cage. "Gimmie some space and I'll see if I can make this hole a little bigger," he says, grasping either side of the bars. "If the wood isn't already waterlogged that is." Roll to use Burning Hands on cage bars: "Digs-A-Grave"+Cha(Atk stat)+lvl=8+4+1+1=14. MelvinBison fucked around with this message at 01:50 on Jul 11, 2014 |
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Jul 11, 2014 01:14
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Tombak You can barely see anything in this weather, but you can narrowly make out the Imperial officer and the Hlaalu guard trying to move to the tent where the evidence pile is located. Their armor is weighing them down in the mud, and they stumble about as they do so. Digs-A-Hole Let's call it a skill check. SunAndSpring fucked around with this message at 01:31 on Jul 11, 2014 |
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Jul 11, 2014 01:27
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Tombak "Looks like we're clear-- the guards are taking cover." He puts his shoulder to the board, aiming to help Crassius push it out of the way once the other gets over here.
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Jul 11, 2014 01:29
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K'zan Redpaw "...Indeed. Fortunate timing, the gods have." he commented rather drily, and shrugged. He certainly wasn't one to waste good fortune, and so ambled close to their soon-to-be escape hole, claws out and ready to run once it was open.
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Jul 11, 2014 01:34
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Crassius Callei Crassius moves back to the board, ready to do his thing and move the board. "Crassius Callei, Kinetomancer. You'll see what that is really fast if I remembered the right spot." He counts down and then, on three, his arms gain a subtle glow trail as they go forward to move the board. Shoving the board open without snapping it: 1d20+5+4+1 24 Swapping to Orokos for my benefit. It's less hassle to keep my rolls for multiple PbPs on one site, plus I actually have an account for this.
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Jul 11, 2014 02:35
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Crassius The board resists for a few seconds before giving in to your magically fortified muscles. It slides in the mud just enough that you and everyone else can squeeze through the gap you've just made, if you hold in your gut while you do it. The rain shows no sign of giving up. If you're lucky, no one will see you reenter the town by the riverside entrance. Then, it's just a matter of finding your confiscated money and items.
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Jul 11, 2014 03:44
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Zairan Hainnabibi "Your gods had nothing to do with it. Mephala granted us this boon, and we should not waste it," Zairan states matter-of-factly. He squeezes through the gap and looks towards the city. If he can get to his gear, he should still have some nightshade, the traditional offering made to Mephala, somewhere in his pack. "Any ideas where they might be storing their 'evidence'? Some Hlaalu guard post, perhaps?" Zairan makes his way towards the city entrance, moving silently, as if he were closing in on his prey during a hunt. Sneaking (Dex + Ashlander Hunter): 1d20+5+5 23
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Jul 11, 2014 08:25
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Digs-A-Hole Steam and smoke pouring out under his grip, Digs-A-Hole looks over to his cellmates to give them an update... and sees them escaping through a completely different set of bars. Speaking into his pocket, "I helped. You saw it." Ingot clicks once and Digs makes his way to where the others are slipping out. "Unfortunately for you all, those guards didn't take anything off me of importance, so I believe this is where we part way-" Fire salts. Right. "On second thought, right behind you." Sneaking (Dex + Digs-A-Grave): 10+4+1+1=16. "Oh! I just had a thought," Digs says, pointing towards the other cages. "Suppose we let some of them out too? They may serve as a distraction." MelvinBison fucked around with this message at 17:52 on Jul 11, 2014 |
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Jul 11, 2014 16:54
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Severia Severia, under no delusions about her own sneakiness, lets the rest of the party go before her, before she tries to leave. "C'mon Sev. This is just like that time when you had to sneak around that sabertooth tiger," she thinks to herself. She steps on a twig, making a snap noise. "Oh right. I ended up fighting that." Sneaking (Dex+True Daughter): 1d20-1+1+5 12
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Jul 11, 2014 17:18
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Crassius Callei Crassius, being the one to hold open the board, is the last one out. However, this also means he's the one to make sure the board goes back into place gently, and "gentle" isn't a term that doesn't mix well with Kinetomancy, unless it refers to a balance. Needless to say, between that and the rain, the board is going to slip out of his hands and shove itself back into place. "Stupid thing. Should've just broken it off in the first place..." Sneaking Out (Kinetomancy via proper balance of pressure): 1d20+5+4+1 13
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Jul 11, 2014 17:56
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Tombak "Hey, that kinetomancy is pretty ki-neato, man." Tombak winks, gesturing at the board. "... See?" Before the gods can punish him for that, Tombak slips out the opening and slinks away into the rain, following the others. "Let's not start a riot, Digs. If we need a distraction for can arrange something a little more low key. For now we need to find a way in to the city..." Slinking (Charming Scoundrel + Dex + Level): 1d20+5+1+1 26 (Forgot the roll) Whycalibur fucked around with this message at 18:34 on Jul 11, 2014 |
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Jul 11, 2014 18:14
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The Hlaalu guard, for just a moment, barely spots the Imperials exiting the pen and comes to investigate. At least you'll all have a head start until the guards come looking for you. You slip into Balmora via the canal entrance. The town has seen better days. Debris still litters the streets; the battlemages had smashed through the barricades erected by the rebels with explosive force after the rebels had rejected their only chance to stand down. Many of the buildings are scorched and blackened, and you see scaffolds and other construction equipment all over the town. It will take months for the town to fully recover. At least the bodies have been taken away. The streets are currently empty, save for a few villagers trying to make their way back home. Luckily for you, you find the second evidence pile relatively quickly under a tent. It hasn't even been secured; everything about this witch hunt was hasty, it seems.
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Jul 11, 2014 19:38
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Digs-A-Hole "If you see any fire salts in there. They're mine. Not trying to be greedy, just a statement of fact. Also a staff if you see it? In fact, here. Why don't I just..." DAH reaches over and grabs a small satchel and a wooden staff out of the pile. The staff he could do without, but the fire salts were essential. "For keeping me out of trouble I mean," he said, fixing the pouch to his side. "Not sure what they need these for honestly. I wouldn't be surprised if this errand was all one big excuse to get me wrapped up in this mess. No, it's not paranoia, Ingot. They've been looking for an excuse to get rid of me since the mudcrab incident. Honestly. Oh! That's right. The tavern. Um, anyone know where it is?"
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Jul 11, 2014 22:27
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Crassius Callei "Let's see..." Crassius digs about the pile for his things. A Kwama egg, a book, some kind of gauntlets with retractable claws, throwing stars and...a pillow? He stuffs all but the gloves into what is essentially a burlap sack with some straps woven on and puts it on his back. After a bit of stretching and making sure the claws still work, he pipes up. "The tavern? Like I said, I'd just left that place before getting tossed into that pen. Should be right across from the silt strider. Hopefully they still have plenty of greef...Oh wait, which one do you want again? Because there's the one I mentioned and another one somewhere near that Dunmer temple. No offense to our present company." Unknown Quantity fucked around with this message at 22:56 on Jul 11, 2014 |
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Jul 11, 2014 22:50
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Tombak "The Eight Plates tavern," Tombak adds, shrugging into his coat. He grabs a spear and a haversack, puts the one over his shoulder and the other on his back, and adjusts his sleeves. "Much better." "I feel like I saw that name up on a board somewhere... I bet I could find us a way there through the back streets." He thinks back, trying to place the tavern using the clues provided by Crassius, and calling up the town's layout in his head. Memories (Int + Charming Scoundrel + Level): 1d20+5+1 24
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Jul 11, 2014 23:08
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Zairan Hainnabibi "No offense taken. Say what you like about the false gods of the Tribunal." It's easy for Zairan to spot his equipment, considering he made most of it with his own hands. The first thing he does is root around in his pack until he finds a nightshade flower, which he quickly tears into pieces and then sprinkles on top of a nearby torch. As he does this, he whispers a thanks to Mephala, and then breathes a sigh of relief. There's no telling what a Daedra might do when they don't receive their offerings. Zairan turns back to the pile of equipment and grabs the rest of his gear, donning the chitin armor and strapping his longbow, quiver, and spear to his back. He turns to the other escapees. "Well, my previous employers left me to get arrested, those ungrateful n'wahs, leaving me with nothing better to do for now than to accompany you all to the tavern. We should make this investigation quick, though, the guards will be looking for us.
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Jul 11, 2014 23:59
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Tombak Your new Imperial friend was way off on his first guess. The tavern just across from the silt strider port, the Council Club, is a local Camonna Tong haunt. Not a good place to be if you're an outlander. The Eight Plates Tavern and Inn is in the commercial district, just past the local Fighter's Guild and Dorisa Darvel's bookstore on the right. While not exactly an Imperial dig, the Eight Plates has a far nicer reputation than a bar full of racists getting wasted on cheap sujamma. Zairan You offer the flower to Mephala, and you feel as if something has stopped watching you. You're safe from the wrath of an irate Daedric Prince, for now. It would be best to wait for a while until asking another favor from Her, however. You can only gain so much favor with the gods until they assume you are trying to command them. Digs-A-Hole You search through the pile and find your Fire Salts. Or, what's left of them. The guards had thrown the bowl you had them in haphazardly into the pile where they could get wet. The salts have dulled from their original bright orange to a sickly brown. Edwinna's going to kill you.
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Jul 12, 2014 01:23
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Severia From the pile of stuff, Severia pulls several spiked pieces of wood. She quickly uses them to put up her hair. "I'm a bit surprised they thought to take these. Usually I can hide them in my hair."
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Jul 12, 2014 01:53
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You hear a great deal of yelling coming from outside the city walls. It seems they've found out you're missing from your "jail". Hopefully the lack of available guards will slow down their search; not many are left since the revolt, and the Imperials have left save for a few engineers sent to oversee the repair of the town and a captain or two to oversee them.
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Jul 12, 2014 02:34
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Digs-A-Hole "In my experience, one should always go in the opposite direction of yelling. Especially when the yelling is a direct result of something you've done. To the Eight Plates. Quickly." As DAH shifts to head in the tavern's direction, his hand brushes against his satchel, making a distinct "squish" as it passes. Fire salts, if he recalls correctly, should never go "squish". "Oh. Oh poo poo."
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Jul 12, 2014 03:10
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Tombak "Oh, I don't know... sometimes yelling can be fun," Tombak replies. "But this yelling doesn't sound like the fun kind." He also sets off towards the tavern, ducking into a side street as soon as he passes one which will take him in the right direction. "C'mon. Quieter this way." To Severia, he grins. "They were probably just using the search as an excuse to touch a woman's hair. Bunch of perverts."
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Jul 12, 2014 03:58
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| # ? Apr 27, 2024 05:50 |
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You head to the Eight Plates tavern and enter through the lower door, taking care to wipe off your boots on the rug that sprawls out into the hallway. You can hear the usual bar sounds; laughter, off-key singing, and four-letter words that the Temple, which is but a stone's throw away from the bar, would surely frown upon. You come into the parlor, and you see nothing but Dunmer, save for a Breton woman in blue robes sipping a snifter of brandy at the bar. A few of the men at the side table give you all a curious look, but ultimately return back to their drinks. These are Hlaalu retainers, come to drink and relax after a hard day of wrangling with tax records and land deeds at the council manor. They've had enough of focusing for now. The publican looks up at you all and says, "Welcome to the Eight Plates! Can I get you a table for your party?" Digs-A-Grave As you walk into the parlor, your heart sinks. You know exactly who the Breton at the bar is and you have no idea why she's not in Ald'ruhn. You try to avoid her, but her eyes meet yours, and she stares at you with an annoyed expression on her face. Edwinna gets up and walks over to you, a scowl digging further lines into her already wrinkled face. "Digs-A-Hole. Where are those Fire Salts you were sent to collect? It's been a day, and I needed those for my experiment yesterday. In case you didn't know, time was of the essence. Now the potion will have lost a quarter of its efficacy. I doubt it will block any frost magic now, thanks to your incompetence. Do you have them now, at least? Please tell me you didn't completely fail in what I asked of you." SunAndSpring fucked around with this message at 05:04 on Jul 12, 2014 |
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Jul 12, 2014 04:41
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