The Town of Vikarh (Open RP) - Closed

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Carathyle maveric
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Post by Carathyle maveric »

Name : Illirith
Profession : Female Devotee of Khaine
Location : Around the armourer/Auction House

Slowly walking into the auction house, Illirith crossed path with a distinctly clothed Witch Elf, who was accompanied by an assumable blacksmith or at least a smith of some sort. Wondering where the elf is from, and wondering what it is doing here so close to Death Night, the night of the Lord they both served, she looked at the elf until she was on the street and addressed the smith in a tone familiar to her. With a grin, she turned into the auction house and walked toward the bar, sitting down on one of the barchairs. Looking around, she figured there was no need for the helmet she wore, and simply took it off, revealing the long jetblack hair hanging until the lower parts of her back. Hearing the words of an auction, Illirith turned toward the stage, to see eight Asur males and four Asur females standing there, in rough tunics and some full of bruises.

Hmm, I'm not so much for slaves but with death night inbound, and the fact that I don't mind some... company during the nights. Besides, I guess I could send seven of the males and two of the females with an armed escort to Har Ganeth, for my mother to execute... or abuse as she sees fit. She thought, raising her hand to accept the bid.

And now... just wait for it to clear out. Hopefully everyone here understands that Khaine is a thirsty patron, and that his thirst has to be lessened during Death Night. And perhaps I'll sent six males, I need somethings to sacrifice as well.

"I don't know what he wants, but I'll take a Brittonian wine if you have one. You know what, give him a goblet as well, I'm feeling generous tonight for its just four days till death night, and I hope I get this lot." Illirith said, looking at the silent fellow. "Tell me, my friend, what brings you to Vikarh on such a lonely night?" She asked toward the assumed weak mercenary. Her armoured form showed symbols of Khaine, as well as the wine bottle full of a red substance which she knew was the blood of many clean victims.
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Carathyle Maveric:(Group 28 Warrior)
Ws:5 S:4 T:3 D:4 I:3
Equipment:
Enchanted* Obsidian Long sword, MC Light armour, Dark Steed(Sephirah), Shield, MC Longbow(89 arrows), 56 Circlets, Maibed Dagger, Asur Spear and Disguise.
Age: 89
Skills: Ride, Acrobatics
*Increased Strength, holds the soul of his father
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Meteor
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Post by Meteor »

Name: Opheros
Profession: Gate Guard
Location: From Gate of Chill to the Pens, now to Auction House

The cold chill of Naggaroth bit into Opheros despite his gear. He looked out to the grey sky hanging over the busy town of Vikarh, blowing a long breath of steam out as he continued to gaze out into the distance of the Gate of Chill. He had his hands crossed across his chest, leaning against the wall of the arc of the gate, one foot bent and pressed against the hard cold stone work, and his Dranach spear resting beside him.

Opheros was taking it easy, but it wasn't like there was much to do whilst on duty when there were no run away slaves or Nauglirs to make sport of with their Repeater Crossbows. He tapped his helmet, which he held under his left arm as he kept a watchful eye for trouble beyond and behind the gates, after all, one can never be too careless even when they're next to a garrison tower.

He noticed the arrival of something in the distance, orders were barked forth by his hot shot of a captain, sometimes Opheros just wants to punch his captain in the face to bring his ego down a few notches. Eventually, someone will hire an Assassin to kill him, Opheros mused. Regardless, for now he slipped his proud helmet back on and pulled his Dranach out of the ground as the gates opened for him and his partners that joined him shortly.

It was a caravan it seemed, Jacks didn't fancy rummaging through traveller belongings, mainly because it hardly interested him. If it gave them a reason to cause trouble within the city, it meant Opheros and his partners had something to deal with. The caravan was checked, and passed through without much interest when it was realised that it was just a travelling group.

One of the travellers caught Opheros's attention, but the group pressed on before he could do anything about it. Opheros and his group escorted the travellers to the nearby stable, it gave him something to do, even if it wasn't exactly that exciting. The town was hustling and bustling with life as Corsairs and slaves filled the roads, rushing cargo around getting ready for their voyages to raid the coasts for riches to further improve this town.

Opheros was never a seafarer, the sea never called to him, but he still always looked out to sea, towards Ulthuan, he supposed all his kin longed to be back to where they really belonged. It was why he brought himself to become a guard, once they're ready to go to war again, he would fight for his Lord Malekith in the hopes to reclaim their homeland from the traitors.

The sick, the weak, and the old were amongst the travelling group, here the slave traders took their pickings from the fearful bunch. Opheros stood idly by and watched the event unfold, unsuspecting preys were taken away kicking and screaming, horses were fed, goods were rummaged through, and there almost was an outbreak of violence, but his fellow guards quickly quelled the matter with blood and steel. The curious traveller that caught Opheros's attention weren't amongst the chaos, perhaps he was taken away.

"Hey Opheros, watch this lot make it safely to the Auction House will ya? You haven't forgotten that you lost the gamble earlier?"

It was Marcus, Opheros knew Marcus never plays clean, but he couldn't care less, once again, it gave him something better to do other than watch the travellers get picked on like vultures on a prey. Dranach in hand, he marched the line to the Auction House, where bids were already happening. Besides, Opheros needed to visit the Weaponsmith about his sword.

After the slaves were piled into the darkness of the Auction House, any guard in their right mind would never pass up a drink opportunity wherever they see it.

"Something strong and spicy to warm a dull evening bar keeper" Opheros took off his helmet and allowed his black long hair flow freely around his midnight blue plated armour as he approached the bar and surveyed the guests within.
What's mine is mine, What's yours is mine.
Now that we understand each other, lets get down to business.

Jacks -Shade
- WS 5 - - S 3 - - T 2 - - D 6 - - I 5 -

Equipment
Short Sword, MC Long Sword*, Dagger, RxB & RHB [20/10] MC Shade Cloak, 4 Throwing Daggers, 3x Healing Vials, 451C, [3]Dark Venom, [4]Unseen Chains, Food, Dark Steed- Spike

Skills
Basic Stealth, Awareness, TWF, Suithenlu Khythan, Ride

Magic Item
Eye of the Jabberwock

*Magical properties possibly imbued
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Nightcall
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Post by Nightcall »

Mod Post
Auction House


The auctioneer noticed the first bid and pointed a short iron rod towards the maibd at the bar. 'Twelve gold! We have twelve, do I hear any more bids?' The crowd in front of the dais chattered loudly and hands were raised, the auctioneer shouting out as the price of the lot rose. 'Fresh from the ruins of Anlec, get yourselves a bargain.' One of the guards started to demonstrate the fine aspects of the High Elves, prising the lips of a female apart to show her set of fine white teeth. There was much laughter as she whimpered, her companions struggling angrily in their bonds. 'Sixteen gold to the man with the glaive! Do I hear seventeen?'

Back at the bar, the bar keeper tended to his customers. Before the quiet Druchii could answer him, an elf maiden seemingly interested in the captured livestock, took a seat at the bar. She had a look of savagery about her, and her demeanour told the barman that here was one that would settle an argument with a sharp blade. So he did not question her when she ordered a Bretonnian wine for herself, and for the quiet one. He nodded and poured two goblets and placed them on the counter.

'There you are, miss. Two goblets of Bordeleaux rouge. Finest red in all Bretonnia, or so they say.' he added, noticing a small bottle of blood on her personage. 'That will be two silver.'
Casaythe Blackstorm - Warrior (Corsair) - Group 22
Skills: Awareness, Endurance
Equipment: Short Sword, Glaive, Medium Armour, Sea Dragon Cloak, Repeater Crossbow, clip of bolts [11/20], 405 gold, Talisman of Darkness, Tool Kit, 2 months' rations
Stats: WS4, S4, T5, D3, I4

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Carathyle maveric
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Post by Carathyle maveric »

Name : Illirith
Profession : Female Devotee of Khaine
Location : In the Auction House Bar

"Thank you good sir." Illirith said, placing two silver pieces on the bar toward the keeper and turned back to the auction. Standing up, she raised her hand once more. "Twenty Gold pieces, paid by the Temple of Khaine in Har Ganeth. Anyone willing to face it?" She yelled. You'll have sleepless nights in that case. she thought, having made her bid and sat down again. Turning toward the barkeeper, she wrapped her hands around the goblet and stirred the wine. "So they say. I've tasted better red from Brittonians though, but for that you need actual Brittonians, and they don't come cheap around here. So I settle for Asur and Druchii since that's easier to come by in these lands." She spoke before turning toward the newly arrived guardsmen. "How about you, do you have a preferred drink? Or are you satisfied with a glass of water?"

Keeping an eye on the biddings and the silent one, she also kept her ears open for anyone sneaking around and obviously for the words of the guardsmen and the barkeeper.
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Carathyle Maveric:(Group 28 Warrior)
Ws:5 S:4 T:3 D:4 I:3
Equipment:
Enchanted* Obsidian Long sword, MC Light armour, Dark Steed(Sephirah), Shield, MC Longbow(89 arrows), 56 Circlets, Maibed Dagger, Asur Spear and Disguise.
Age: 89
Skills: Ride, Acrobatics
*Increased Strength, holds the soul of his father
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Kinslayer
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Post by Kinslayer »

Name: Valathorn
Profession: Shadow Warrior
Location: Auction House Bar


Valathorn had been about to respond to the bartenders offer of a drink when he felt movement behind him, and tilted his head slightly to catch sight of another Maibd coming to the bar, sitting down beside him. He took his eyes off her before she could notice, instead looking to the auction stage as a dozen of his kin were dragged out. Twelve gold? Those men and women are worth more than you and this place together, Druchii he thought to himself, his jaw clenching, his eyes turning away before he let his disguise slip out of anger.

It was only then that he realised the Maibd was talking to him, and had asked the bartender to fetch them both a glass of wine. Valathorn remained silent for a moment, realising what the two Witch Elves in one place probably meant, and remembering that Death Night was fast approaching. He listened intently as the Witch said something else, ignoring her words and focusing only on her accent. He adopted it, and changed it to fit his voice and flow slightly differently off his tongue. The result would no doubt sound to the Maibd like someone raised in a similar environment to herself, but not at all from the exact same place.

His next identity had just revealed itself.

"I'll take the wine, but my preferred drink? Maybe the blood of one of those Asur slaves over there. But alas, I will not drink such a banquet this night, for I save my offering for Khaine, when Death Night comes. And what brings me to Vikarh? Well... no doubt the same thing that does you, the promise of blood, waiting to be anointed in His name."

Acting the cloaked and hooded Khainite, Valathorn realised now he might actually get a chance to use his real sword skills one day soon, instead of acting the untrained mercenary. It was then that the door opened yet again, and he saw one of the guards from the gate where he had entered the town arriving at the bar. His hand instinctively went to the hilt of his blade, a sly and secret motion disguised by his cloak and seated position.

Valathorn sipped at his wine, and awaited the Maibds' next question, if any would follow his lies.
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Carathyle maveric
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Post by Carathyle maveric »

Name : Illirith
Profession : Female Devotee of Khaine
Location : In the Auction House Bar

"I've never heard of another Devotee drinking the blood of numerous victims, strangely enough I've grown up in the City of Executioners, where the blood flows rich and to me where blood flows, Khaine shall be glad. So then, I'm wondering where you come from, considering I have never seen you around the Temple, nor have I seen a male Khainite with a bit of a sailor's tan and a normal blade as his weapon." Illirith chuckled, still waiting for the deal to be closed.

Suspense, it's killing me slowly. However, this guy might... prove more entertainment She thought, looking at the public from a half sitting stance, while occasionally switching between the crowd and the two males around her.

With a sigh she started off saying, "It's such a shame I'm not at home during the glorious event. No doubt all the maibd's back there will have a nice time, while I'll just do with killing what I buy and keep, and I'll probably drink their essence when it's still warm." Her words as disturbing as ever, even by dark elf standards, for none would dare to put their lips on the necks of those they killed. "Should I undress them before slaying? So that the blood will not get absorbed, or should I just kill them?" She asked toward the assumable Khainite.
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Carathyle Maveric:(Group 28 Warrior)
Ws:5 S:4 T:3 D:4 I:3
Equipment:
Enchanted* Obsidian Long sword, MC Light armour, Dark Steed(Sephirah), Shield, MC Longbow(89 arrows), 56 Circlets, Maibed Dagger, Asur Spear and Disguise.
Age: 89
Skills: Ride, Acrobatics
*Increased Strength, holds the soul of his father
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Calisson
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Post by Calisson »

Name: Cab’um “Nimby” Smith - Profession: smith & mad scientist.
Equipment: smith’s hammer & strangely bent knives - dirty smith's dress.
End-post location: arriving at the forge.

-=-=-

In the bar arrived another Barbie girl (= concubine of Ken - or was it Khaine? - ach!names are difficult to catch with a foreign ear).
The two brides did not exchange a salute. Who's that guy Khaine, really? A sort of sailor, with one wife in each harbour, who don't know each other?

Then came a city guard. The auction house bar was becoming crowded.
People were probably attracted by the auction.
That was a kind of scenery that Cab'um did not enjoy, even though the time when he had been part of the goods to be sold was becoming very remote.

-=-=-

Anyway, today was his lucky day.
Not only he had found a charming, helpful local to lead him to the forge. But she was also to become his first customer.
And, icing on the cake, she was not against innovative suggestions despite being rather classical for adornments.
That opens a wide room for investigations.
When I'm done with the skulls, let's not forget about a machinery to put efficiently icing on cakes.


Perfetto, ci andiamo!(Cab'um mixed sometimes some Tilean words reminiscent from his youth, with the Reikspiel he spoke during most of his early adult life).
I mean, great! Let's go!

He swallowed what remained from his glass and dropped two lead coins and a silver one on the plank.

-=-=-

In the street, the cold caught Cab'um by surprise. He encased in his cloak and followed the maibd.
They were making an improbable couple but nobody dared to stare at them - frontally.

They passed near a tanner's workshop, easily recognizable with the stinking atmosphere surrounding it.
Soon, another smell reached Cab'um nostrils. This one was familiar and he inspired it with delight: it was the acrid smell of a forge!
On their left, behind the bulky auction house, a narrow alley, cluttered with garbage, lead to stone and brick buildings where the forges were.

-=-=-

As they were walking, Khelandria took care of the conversation. She asked: "So how did you come to be in the Land of Chill? Has Khaine called you? We do not see many people from foreign lands here."
Cab'um replied:
I came here on my own, because the people in Karond Kar, you know, they have limitations in their appreciation of the finest forge artworks.
It was not a call from Khaine, but I will gladly meet Him. But before that time, I'd like to finish the work He wishes me to do in this place.

Cab'um had often heard about Khaine but never investigated Who He was really.

-=-=-

As he was following his female companion, Cab'um noted her fascinating stiletto heels, adding height to already interminable legs.
On the cobblestone, it could have been difficult for her to keep her balance, but she moved nevertheless with grace and elegance.
That was so fascinating that Cab'um forgot about the skulls for a minute.
When he had an idea, Cab'um seldom concealed it, especially with the help of strong alcohol.
He proposed straightforwardly:
I see that you are extremely proficient in walking on pins.
If you wish so, I could try to replace them with skates, for times of snow when your pins are not practical.
Oh, and I would be eager to experiment with small wheels replacing the skates, for flat and dry land, that would help you to run at incredible speed.
But if you want to stick with your pins, hey, I could make them needles and place some poison inside, just in case you're annoyed by one of these naughty lads that are found in some obscure places.

Poison? Or rather powder? Would it make her fly?

-=-=-

Then he recalled that she was on a mission, and she might not be ready for too many novelties at a time.
Cab'um's mind went back to the skulls.
About your skulls, I have another idea that you will adore:
It would be to add a mechanism inside, invisible from the outside.
At specific times, the mechanism would open a small gate in the face, and let out a small figurine.
At the same time, some nice music could be made, something like "Cuckoo, cuckoo" or whatever you wish.
Yes indeed! That would be a great attraction for the people during an event!


-=-=-

<OOC: Leaving Syjahel a chance for a reply before arriving to the forge.>
Winds never stop blowing, Oceans are borderless. Get a ship and a crew, so the World will be ours! Today the World, tomorrow Nagg! {--|oBrotherhood of the Coast!o|--}
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Kinslayer
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Post by Kinslayer »

Valathorn, being who he was, was not one for keeping a conversation rolling longer than it needed to. He couldn't afford for anyone to get to know him, even if it was one of his false identities they were talking to. The less people knew and saw of him, the more chance his mission would suceed. Fortunately he had now adopted the visage of a hooded Khainite, and such a trait would not look out of place for him there. The assassins were after all the most secretive of the Temples' acolytes.

"You ask a lot of questions, blood maiden" he said in reply to the second barrage of over inquisitive small talk, "And you clearly did not see properly my sword. Then again, there is only one way to get a closer look, and that is to die upon the end of it."

He stood up and calmly placed a coin upon the counter for the drink, which still rested there mostly untouched. He walked over to the stage to view the Asur slaves, reaching into his pocket.

He had to look the part.

"Death Night approaches, and offerings must be made! How much for one of the blondes? I shall stain his hair red as he hangs upside down, throat cut to the glory of Khaine."
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Meteor
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Post by Meteor »

Opheros: heading to Weaponsmith

Opheros raised an eyebrow when he was addressed by one of the guests nearby. Turning his head slightly, to better see who the fool was to address a guard so casually, his eyes paused when it reached the strange traveller. Giving him a moments longer glance, Opheros seemed more curious about him, shrouded in mystery and seemingly wishing to avoid attention, they were the sort of elves that Opheros dealt with daily.

The woman who shouted out without thinking distracted him, and when his eyes rested on her, he then understood why she was talking without much care for whom it was.

"Witch Elves, ugh that's right, that night is coming shortly. Going to be chaotic for us on watch, if only it was just chaos." he thought dryly.

He didn't answer her right away, instead, gave her a silent stare as he assessed her incase one of them lost control whist he was still there.

"As long as it's not blood, especially mine."

He turned back to his drink just as she turned her attention back to that traveller. He listened on their conversation whilst feigning a lack of interest to them, strange he thought, the traveller really disliked attention and was very eager to show his loyalty to the upcoming night.

"I guess that's an overly zealous fanatic for you."

He finished the rest of his drink and left the bar for the weaponsmith to check on the progress of his sword.
What's mine is mine, What's yours is mine.
Now that we understand each other, lets get down to business.

Jacks -Shade
- WS 5 - - S 3 - - T 2 - - D 6 - - I 5 -

Equipment
Short Sword, MC Long Sword*, Dagger, RxB & RHB [20/10] MC Shade Cloak, 4 Throwing Daggers, 3x Healing Vials, 451C, [3]Dark Venom, [4]Unseen Chains, Food, Dark Steed- Spike

Skills
Basic Stealth, Awareness, TWF, Suithenlu Khythan, Ride

Magic Item
Eye of the Jabberwock

*Magical properties possibly imbued
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Nightcall
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Post by Nightcall »

Mod Post
Auction House


For a moment the excited chatter amongst the crowd gathered in front of the auctioneer's pedestal halted. Whispers and hushed remarks swept the hall as a female Druchii had proclaimed her status as a servant of Har Ganeth's temple and placed a high bid. She had dared any raise the price, and not wishing to stir the ire of Khaine's temple, no one did.

The barman nodded at the maibd's remark about Bretonnians and was about to offer a reply, but thought better of it, instead wiping a spillage from the counter with a cloth.

'Twenty gold for lot fourteen, do I have any more offers?' the auctioneer asked, leaning over his pedestal and looking at those in the crowd.

There was a long silence before a hooded stranger stepped up to the dais enquiring about the price of one to sate Khaine's thirst. 'Ah good fellow, you misunderstand. These gharbin are to be sold as one lot. Not as individuals.' he sneered, giving the elf an expression to imply that he thought him simple. 'Unless you are prepared to raise the bid, they go to the esteemed Temple maiden yonder.' he added, pointing to the raven haired female at the bar with his iron rod.
Casaythe Blackstorm - Warrior (Corsair) - Group 22
Skills: Awareness, Endurance
Equipment: Short Sword, Glaive, Medium Armour, Sea Dragon Cloak, Repeater Crossbow, clip of bolts [11/20], 405 gold, Talisman of Darkness, Tool Kit, 2 months' rations
Stats: WS4, S4, T5, D3, I4

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Post by Kinslayer »

Valathorn nodded and then looked back at the Maibd at the bar, before replying to the auction master.

"Then the slaves are hers, and I will have to see what it takes for her to give me one over the next four days, should our paths cross again."

With that, he turned from the stage and dipped his head in respect as he passed his fellow Khainite, heading out of the building and off in search of somewhere to lay low.
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Carathyle maveric
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Post by Carathyle maveric »

Name : Illirith
Profession : Female Devotee of Khaine
Location : In the Auction House Bar

With a grin, and a grasp of the coin purse, Illirith counted down the 20 golden coins. Long live mother for giving me such a well-filled purse. Seeing her fellow Khainite walking off the stage after his ambitious attempt, she couldn't help but laugh. "Why are you leaving already? I don't like the look on that one on the far left, that male over there,'s face. Go ahead, end his misery! While I check the rest that it." She stood up, placed the goblet on the bar and walked onto the stage, grasping the sword's hilt while placing her finger through the iron ring at the end of it and pulling it outward.

From the hilt emerged a small knife, small enough to fit into a hilt's shaft, yet thick and sharp enough to draw blood. A small ditch was carved into the knife's edge, making it ideal for either poison or blood sampling.

Walking onto stage, she let go of the sword's hilt and laid her hands around the chin of one of the females. "Nice colour, beautiful eyes, looks like a good set of teeth, overall a fine product, now for the most important part." She talked to herself, not caring for who might hear her words. With a quick gesture of her hand carrying the knife, a small cut was created on the cheek of the Asur slave, blood dripping from it slowly. On the knife's edge was blood as well, but not for long.

Placing the knife against her tongue, Illirith licked the blood off the knife, probably much to the dislike of the other Asur. Tasting the life essence, she licked around her mouth before running her tongue past her sharp teeth. "This is a... very... good product. I think I'll keep you for myself." she said, letting go of the cheek and placing her fingertips on the skin of the female. "I can feel the blood running through your body without a problem. If I'd stab you... here!" Illirith pushed her nail into the skin of the shoulder, cause a cut the size of the nail to emerge. "You'll bleed, possibly to death which would be a shame. I'll have fun with you." She removed the nail from the skin and moved on toward the second female.

"Hmm... I guess I've validated the best of the females at first. Such... a... shame for you. You... go to my mother in Har Ganeth. Your blood isn't worthy of my tongue, no doubt Khaine wouldn't mind yours to be spilled." She said, letting the knife run from shoulder to shoulder without applying enough pressure to push the knife deep enough to harm, leaving it only to scratch the skin. Slowly continuing to examine the rest of the lot, she found only three in total to be suitable for her to be either a plaything, or a sacrifice.

Once she found it good enough, she walked over to the auctioneer with a grin. "Here's the payment. 20 Golden coins, I can see the crowd is smart not to bid against the Temple. Khaine shall be satisfied with the blood that will flow from these six." She spoke as she handed the payment over to him. Before turning around to look at her freshly bought slaves.
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Carathyle Maveric:(Group 28 Warrior)
Ws:5 S:4 T:3 D:4 I:3
Equipment:
Enchanted* Obsidian Long sword, MC Light armour, Dark Steed(Sephirah), Shield, MC Longbow(89 arrows), 56 Circlets, Maibed Dagger, Asur Spear and Disguise.
Age: 89
Skills: Ride, Acrobatics
*Increased Strength, holds the soul of his father
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Syjahel
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Post by Syjahel »

Name : Khelandria Skulltaker
Profession : Bride of Khaine
Location : Forge

The cold night air was a welcome reminder of the chill touch of death as Khelandria strode out over the cobblestones. Easily keeping her catlike balance, the Bride of Khaine kept her wits about her as always, on the lookout for trouble and the chance to spill blood, but none came. She reminded herself with a faint sigh that soon Death Night was coming, and her beloved Lord would reward her with enough of the sweet ichor then. Well, almost enough. One can never spill enough blood in His name.

As they walked the smith seemed to have a great many ideas, which he was keen to elaborate on. Khelandria's mother hadn't told her much about artists; there were few enough directly attached to the Temple, but she had seen some of the work they made for the nobles and highborn to offer - swords, great works of armour, the odd enchanted amulet. This fellow was eccentric, perhaps, but he did display an abundance of imagination. She wasn't sure what to make of it all, but then, he was from overseas. Who knows how they do things over there? she thought to herself. Poor benighted souls, they have barely heard of my dear Khaine.

"I came here on my own, because the people in Karond Kar, you know, they have limitations in their appreciation of the finest forge artworks. It was not a call from Khaine, but I will gladly meet Him. But before that time, I'd like to finish the work He wishes me to do in this place."

The smith was at least amenable to finding out more about her Lord, and though it was more usual for a person to 'find out' through direct experience of the Art of the Lord of Murder, she sensed it would be a waste to kill someone so gifted in the making of the accoutrements of war.

The scent of the forge was in the air now, the warmth and smoke clouding the cold night air. Cab'um seemed energised by the closeness of the place - perhaps for him it was a kind of temple? - and he had more suggestions for her, this time to improve her outfit. Khelandria wasn't at all sure of the utility of small wheels on the icy streets of Naggaroth, but she listened politely. The idea about some kind of poison hidden in the heels of her boots, however, had a certain appeal.

"So you think you could make some kind of delivery system for poison in the heels of my boots? I suppose it would be novel, at that. Let me see some plans and I will think on the matter. I am already adept at the use of poisons, but more in the line of blade venoms, that sort of thing..." She paused, wondering about the idea, her thoughts full of dramatic images of leaping Brides kicking their enemies in the head. It happened, of course, but there was always the tendency of some wretch's skull getting caught on one's boot.

"Don't worry about me in the dark streets of this town," the maibd smiled sweetly, again the expression would have been more friendly without the pointed teeth, but the sentiment as she patted his arm with her blood-red taloned hand was genuine. "such a foolish man would only end up with his entrails decorating the cobbles. My beloved Khaine protects his own, too, and I would make their blood a gift to him ..." Khelandria brought herself back on track.

She opened the door to the forge, the warm air washing over her as she stalked inside. The forge-master having retired for the night, his apprentice was tending the coals. She didn't know if he would be able to fix up Cab'um here with what he needed, but she could always request his master's presence. She was weighing up the likely fee, plus any necessary for the materials, when the smith chirped up again with more things he could do to her precious skulls.

Some kind of statuette to pop out of the skull? Khelandria couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. Accompanied by a jaunty tune, no less. She shook her head, in case she'd misheard him above the rising tide of battle-cries and agonised screams in her mind. Still just in her mind, for now.

He was clearly one of these highly-strung, artistic types, and she didn't really want, not really, to cut his throat and leave him bleeding for the crows, not now, so she just took him gently by the hands and looked into his strange, foreign eyes, explaining with as much patience as she could muster.

"These skulls are for drinking the blood of sacrifice as I dedicate myself to my adored god, Khaine, the Lord of Murder. Though it is an occasion of joy, it is not one of levity. I am not looking for novelty, only craftsmanship." The well-spoken maibd let go of his hands, noticing those strange electrum thumbnails again. "This one was a highborn I killed with my own hands," she indicated the one with the scarred cheekbone, "and this one was a nobleman who'd displeased my Hag Queen and this one, this one was an Asur warrior, I know some people might think he spoils the set, but if you look," Khelandria was enthusiastic now, on her own pet subject, "you can see that despite their degenerate culture, under the skin, the skull is much the same as that of a Druchii. Strip away the blonde hair and the muddied white skin and the soft tissues, and the gracile structure of the zygomatic arches, the large orbits, the nearly symmetrical cranial sutures, it's all the same."

She paused, pondering the philosophy of that.

"So you see, it really is the spilling of blood that matters, not the skull from which it falls!" She smiled brightly, calling over to the apprentice, who may have looked slightly unnerved. "The smith here wishes to use your facilities." She turned back to Cab'um, still cradling her skulls affectionately, and waited for him to do whatever they did in situations like these.
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Post by Syjahel »

Name : Khelandria Skulltaker
Profession : Bride of Khaine
Location : Forge

The cold night air was a welcome reminder of the chill touch of death as Khelandria strode out over the cobblestones. Easily keeping her catlike balance, the Bride of Khaine kept her wits about her as always, on the lookout for trouble and the chance to spill blood, but none came. She reminded herself with a faint sigh that soon Death Night was coming, and her beloved Lord would reward her with enough of the sweet ichor then. Well, almost enough. One can never spill enough blood in His name.

As they walked the smith seemed to have a great many ideas, which he was keen to elaborate on. Khelandria's mother hadn't told her much about artists; there were few enough directly attached to the Temple, but she had seen some of the work they made for the nobles and highborn to offer - swords, great works of armour, the odd enchanted amulet. This fellow was eccentric, perhaps, but he did display an abundance of imagination. She wasn't sure what to make of it all, but then, he was from overseas. Who knows how they do things over there? she thought to herself. Poor benighted souls, they have barely heard of my dear Khaine.

"I came here on my own, because the people in Karond Kar, you know, they have limitations in their appreciation of the finest forge artworks. It was not a call from Khaine, but I will gladly meet Him. But before that time, I'd like to finish the work He wishes me to do in this place."

The smith was at least amenable to finding out more about her Lord, and though it was more usual for a person to 'find out' through direct experience of the Art of the Lord of Murder, she sensed it would be a waste to kill someone so gifted in the making of the accoutrements of war.

The scent of the forge was in the air now, the warmth and smoke clouding the cold night air. Cab'um seemed energised by the closeness of the place - perhaps for him it was a kind of temple? - and he had more suggestions for her, this time to improve her outfit. Khelandria wasn't at all sure of the utility of small wheels on the icy streets of Naggaroth, but she listened politely. The idea about some kind of poison hidden in the heels of her boots, however, had a certain appeal.

"So you think you could make some kind of delivery system for poison in the heels of my boots? I suppose it would be novel, at that. Let me see some plans and I will think on the matter. I am already adept at the use of poisons, but more in the line of blade venoms, that sort of thing..." She paused, wondering about the idea, her thoughts full of dramatic images of leaping Brides kicking their enemies in the head. It happened, of course, but there was always the tendency of some wretch's skull getting caught on one's boot.

"Don't worry about me in the dark streets of this town," the maibd smiled sweetly, again the expression would have been more friendly without the pointed teeth, but the sentiment as she patted his arm with her blood-red taloned hand was genuine. "such a foolish man would only end up with his entrails decorating the cobbles. My beloved Khaine protects his own, too, and I would make their blood a gift to him ..." Khelandria brought herself back on track.

She opened the door to the forge, the warm air washing over her as she stalked inside. The forge-master having retired for the night, his apprentice was tending the coals. She didn't know if he would be able to fix up Cab'um here with what he needed, but she could always request his master's presence. She was weighing up the likely fee, plus any necessary for the materials, when the smith chirped up again with more things he could do to her precious skulls.

Some kind of statuette to pop out of the skull? Khelandria couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. Accompanied by a jaunty tune, no less. She shook her head, in case she'd misheard him above the rising tide of battle-cries and agonised screams in her mind. Still just in her mind, for now.

He was clearly one of these highly-strung, artistic types, and she didn't really want, not really, to cut his throat and leave him bleeding for the crows, not now, so she just took him gently by the hands and looked into his strange, foreign eyes, explaining with as much patience as she could muster.

"These skulls are for drinking the blood of sacrifice as I dedicate myself to my adored god, Khaine, the Lord of Murder. Though it is an occasion of joy, it is not one of levity. I am not looking for novelty, only craftsmanship." The well-spoken maibd let go of his hands, noticing those strange electrum thumbnails again. "This one was a highborn I killed with my own hands," she indicated the one with the scarred cheekbone, "and this one was a nobleman who'd displeased my Hag Queen and this one, this one was an Asur warrior, I know some people might think he spoils the set, but if you look," Khelandria was enthusiastic now, on her own pet subject, "you can see that despite their degenerate culture, under the skin, the skull is much the same as that of a Druchii. Strip away the blonde hair and the muddied white skin and the soft tissues, and the gracile structure of the zygomatic arches, the large orbits, the nearly symmetrical cranial sutures, it's all the same."

She paused, pondering the philosophy of that.

"So you see, it really is the spilling of blood that matters, not the skull from which it falls!" She smiled brightly, calling over to the apprentice, who may have looked slightly unnerved. "The smith here wishes to use your facilities." She turned back to Cab'um, still cradling her skulls affectionately, and waited for him to do whatever they did in situations like these.
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Post by Nightcall »

Mod Post

It is now early evening and the streets are growing dark. As dark as the hearts and minds of those that stalk them? Possibly not... The crescent moon sits lazily in the sky, visible occasionally through a break in the clouds, making the mark of Sariour, the rune of sorcery and fortune, good or ill. An opportunity perhaps arises.


Auction House

The auction master grinned at the hooded stranger, who conceded that the lot would not be his, and quietly slunk away. 'Going once, going twice...' he looked about the crowd for any late bids. 'Sold to the maibd for twenty gold!' the auctioneer yelled. 'Will you have them branded, miss?' he asked as she inspected the livestock. 'I'll have them taken to the slave pens for collection.'

His attention returned to the crowd as the next lot was brought on to the dais. A large sack contained some sort of mewling creature that writhed in it's bag. 'Here we have lot fifteen... last auction of the day, a cockatrice hatchling. A fine specimen, captured in the Blackspine Mountains. We won't take it out of it's sack, it's gaze is quite deadly. Do I have any offers?'


Forge

The forgemaster's apprentice was busy throwing coal into the furnace, the heat from the fire reddening his skin. The well built elf wore a dwarf skin apron and had a shaven head, adorned with swirling tattoos. He cast a passing glance at the two Druchii that had arrived and was about to question their purpose when a loud explosion shook the building. Debris and smoke blew in from the weaponsmith's workshop and flames began to lick the door frame. 'Gods below!' he cursed, grabbing a bucket of water and dashing next door to help extinguish the fire.
Casaythe Blackstorm - Warrior (Corsair) - Group 22
Skills: Awareness, Endurance
Equipment: Short Sword, Glaive, Medium Armour, Sea Dragon Cloak, Repeater Crossbow, clip of bolts [11/20], 405 gold, Talisman of Darkness, Tool Kit, 2 months' rations
Stats: WS4, S4, T5, D3, I4

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Meteor
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Post by Meteor »

Opheros
Arriving at the Weaponsmith

Opheros strode confidently and purposefully to the weaponsmith, his drink warming his throat and stomach in this biting cold night. His eyes always wondering and scanning his environment, always watchful for victims to exert his authority over. The butt of his Dranach made solid metal thuds as he walked, its metronome echoing across the busy street, only reaching Opheros's ear as the busy chattering drowned it out from anyone else. It brought peace and comfort to him, until an explosion nearby rocked him, snapping him into attention.

It came from the weaponsmith, he increased his pace to a brisk jog, slipping on his helmet and tightening his grip on his spear.

"That fool better not have ruined my sword, or else I'm going to ruin him!"
What's mine is mine, What's yours is mine.
Now that we understand each other, lets get down to business.

Jacks -Shade
- WS 5 - - S 3 - - T 2 - - D 6 - - I 5 -

Equipment
Short Sword, MC Long Sword*, Dagger, RxB & RHB [20/10] MC Shade Cloak, 4 Throwing Daggers, 3x Healing Vials, 451C, [3]Dark Venom, [4]Unseen Chains, Food, Dark Steed- Spike

Skills
Basic Stealth, Awareness, TWF, Suithenlu Khythan, Ride

Magic Item
Eye of the Jabberwock

*Magical properties possibly imbued
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Calisson
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Post by Calisson »

Name: Cab’um “Nimby” Smith - Profession: smith & mad scientist.
Equipment: smith’s hammer & strangely bent knives - dirty smith's dress.
End-post location: entrance of weaponsmith forge.

-=-=-

The walk to the forge had been uneventful.
The company of Khelandria had been very pleasant. She seemed keen on discovering what innovation Cab’um could bring.
Poison needles inserted in her stilettos raised a real interest. That track had to be investigated furthermore.

-=-=-

As they arrived, she detailed what she had in mind for the three skulls, which were to become kind of gift for her husband.
Cab'um nodded.
I understand. You want a set of finely crafted ciborium. The quality must be high, the taste exquisite in its simplicity.
The skulls are not to be shown as a curiosity but have to be practical.

Let’s get practical.

Cab'um had his own ways of being practical.

The liquid which will fill in the skulls is blood.
Blood is not a stable liquid. Left alone, it cools off. The colour changes rapidly. It separates in different layers. The taste is quickly spoiled.

Is the blood to be served at a set temperature?
A small cooling compartment could be added for chilled blood, or reversely a small space for coal could maintain it body-warm.


Cab’um pursued with the evocation of a device designed to concentrate the aroma towards the nostrils, or a different setting to highlight the colour and thickness of the liquid.
The border of the skull had to be rounded off softly, to make a pleasant contact for the lips. It could be smoothed like velvet.
Inside the skull, silver had to cover the whole surface of bone because you never know what cracks remain in the skull. That would be easier to clean, too.

After death, the orbits retain a strong part of the essence of the owner’s personality. Filling the orbits must be done with higher care than for the nostril cavity.
Followed lengthy explanations about concave, convex or flat fillings. It could be made in plain silver of painted in dark. Precious stones could be incrusted, such stone having such property and showing such personality, and so on. Stones could be fixed or slightly mobile. A combination of the above was possible too, in theory.

The socles must be easy to handle…

-=-=-

Cab’um was interrupted by a loud explosion.

He paused, not showing the slightest emotion.
He observed calmly the trajectories of some fragments.
He sniffed the smoke.
Before moving, he explained:
This sound is typical of a blast caused by ethyl alcohol.
The smell confirms that no black powder was involved. That smell of fudge… some sugar was involved. It must have been cane alcohol smuggled from Lustria.
The trajectory made by this piece of metal indicates clearly that over a pound of pure alcohol was involved, probably a pound and one quarter.
This piece of metal used to be a sword, but bent as it is, it is useless now.
As useless as the hand lying there, which was probably handling it.


That was all he could conclude with the elements found outside.
Cab’um left the broken sword in the hands of a city guard with a spear and a helmet, who was arriving hastily, showing some concern.

-=-=-

Moving at the devasted weaponsmith workshop, Cab'um observed again.
Let’s see what’s inside.
Inside, a body was lying on the floor in a pool of blood, one hand missing.
The forgemaster’s apprentice was fighting the fire.
Cab’um offered the help that he thought most useful: scientific explanations of what he was idly watching.
Fire is a combination of fuel, air and heat. As soon as one element is missing, the fire ceases.
Based on the quantity of wood, the fire might last around two hours and thirty five minutes, approximatively. It is too hot to be removed.
We have no practical mean to remove the air.
Therefore, you’re right in throwing water. The expected result of the lower temperature will interrupt the chain reaction igniting wood logs.


Meanwhile, the apprentice had enough time to get three more buckets and put most of the fire off.
He was practical on his way, but was him only aware about the theory backing his action?
Winds never stop blowing, Oceans are borderless. Get a ship and a crew, so the World will be ours! Today the World, tomorrow Nagg! {--|oBrotherhood of the Coast!o|--}
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Smiler666
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Post by Smiler666 »

IC: Name: Illim
Profession: local beastmaster
Equipment: various stabby things and a scourge
End-post location: the auction house bar

The number of khainites in the auction house bar was beginning to build and Illim was getting uncomfortable, he didn't have any problems with the big man hisself but when his followers gathered it's a fair bet that blood would flow and it was a coin toss as to whether it would be one of thier own or some bystander - more likely to be a bystander because of the timing. What with this threat and the fact that the slave trader had apparently fallen asleep, lightweight, Illim could see no reason to hang about and so dropped a coin onto the counter and started for the door. He was pulled up short though when he heard the the announcer call out the last lot, a cockatrice eh? Dangerous little gribblies but quite lucrative to the right buyer if brought up well. It'll cost me to get the thing packed up properly in the pens and I'm already out of pocket on that thing, plus I'll need some way of covering it's eyes if I don't want to feed it with my own closed. But then again what's the chance I'll see one of these go through Vikhar again? Illim stopped half way between the bar and the door and raised his hand, "I'll put five gold on the beast. Remember folks wild creatures are dangerous and should only be kept by trained hands. He smiled amicably at anyone who happened to look, with a bit of luck some sage advice from the local expert on all things fauna would deter any other potential idio-buyers... Then again when has a druchii accepted sage advice from a competitor.
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Post by Nightcall »

Mod Post


Forge/Weaponsmith's Workshop


The apprentice emptied a twelfth pail onto the last of the flames with a hiss, and rubbed a hand down his face. At his feet lay a badly burned and very dead weaponsmith. One hand twitched, a hammer still in its grip. The other hand, now several feet from its former owner, held what might once have been a fine looking sword.

'No, you can't come in here!' he shouted, as an odd fellow with an even odder accent entered and began to investigate the workshop. Unperturbed by the objection, the fellow picked up the bent sword and placed it in the hand of a guard who had also turned up... presumably after hearing the loud explosion. He wasn't the only one.

'By Malekith's arse, what in Khaine's name is going on?!'

A shorter, yet much more muscular druchii appeared in the doorway. He could have been the apprentice's father, if the apprentice's grandmother had lain with a nauglir... his face was savage and ruined by countless scars and burns, which also ran down his arms and hands from a lifetime of manning a forge. His head also shaven, he sniffed the air in disgust noting the smell of Lustrian rum. The ferocious image of the smith was ruined only slightly by the sleeveless bed smock he was wearing.

'That idiot...' he scowled, prodding the corpse with a booted foot. 'Get him out of here.' he ordered the apprentice who nodded silently before grabbing the former weaponsmith by the ankles and dragging him outside to the coal bunkers.

The large Druchii paced slowly as he took the damage in. He plucked a shard of steel shrapnel from a wall beam and scrutinised it with his jet black eyes, before looking at the guard with the bent sword and the Druchii babbling away about combustion. He had not yet seen his female companion, or else would have watched his language.

'Who the bloody hell are you, and what do you want this time of night?'


Auction House

Back at the auction house, the bidding was going slowly for the final lot. Some female in the crowd jeered 'Get it out, show us a look!' to the amusement of the other patrons. The auctioneer tapped his iron rod on his podium with an expression of tired disdain, until finally someone who seemed to be serious made an offer.

'Beastmaster aren't you?' the auction master queried, thinking he vaguely recognised the face in passing. 'It's worth far more than five... three Druchii died bringing it here. Do I hear six gold?'
Casaythe Blackstorm - Warrior (Corsair) - Group 22
Skills: Awareness, Endurance
Equipment: Short Sword, Glaive, Medium Armour, Sea Dragon Cloak, Repeater Crossbow, clip of bolts [11/20], 405 gold, Talisman of Darkness, Tool Kit, 2 months' rations
Stats: WS4, S4, T5, D3, I4

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Syjahel
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Post by Syjahel »

Name : Khelandria Skulltaker
Profession : Bride of Khaine
Location : Forge

"I don't understand all of what you say, Smith," Khelandria eyed the foreign metal-master with a little more scepticism, but he seemed oblivious, lost in some kind of artistic reverie. "But if you can keep the blood at the heat of the fresh kill, if you could get gems to reflect the personality of the skull's former owner, perhaps it would be possible to somehow make a place for their soul to inhabit, too ..." her own eyes grew distant as she contemplated a future victim, soul bound in eternal servitude and offering to the Lord of Murder.

She was interrupted by cries of alarm and the smell of smoke. It seemed the forge they sought was in danger of burning down. This would be a considerable setback to her plans.

There is an old Druchii proverb: Only fools fight in a burning house . Khelandria was content to follow it for now, as she wouldn't get anywhere with her beloved skulls' conversion with no forge. She even lent a hand to filling buckets from the well, keeping back from the flames. After a while the blaze was dealt with and the apprentice, smoke-blackened and breathing heavily, was joined by another Druchii, his master possibly. At any rate the man seemed little concerned with the death of his craftsman.

Khelandria hadn't understood a great deal of Cab'um's analysis of the blast, but she did catch the word 'alcohol'. Perhaps the fellow had been drinking carelessly on the job. The maidb strode into plain view, boot-heels clicking on the stone flags, and languidly leaned against one of the wooden posts still supporting the ceiling. Little flakes of ash fluttered around her, giving her the aspect of just having walked out of hell.

She nodded to the newly-arrived guardsman with a smile that, as has been remarked before, just doesn't look quite as welcoming with needle-pointed teeth. In this case she was admittedly sizing up his ability to provide another nice cranium for her collection, but only idly and without any real intent. Certainly nothing personal.

"Well, this man is in need of a smith," she remarked casually to Cab'um. She couldn't very well recommend him to the half-awake forge-master just yet, having not seen the quality of his work, but she had a feeling something pleasing to her God would be the outcome of the evening. One way or another.



[It is of course an old Klingon proverb, but Klingons, Druchii ... I think they'd understand each other.]
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Post by Warlord arskittar »

IC:
Name: Malacoris Ch'alatha
Profession: Priest of Khaine
Stats:WS5 S3 T3 D5 I6
Equipment: Light Armour, Driach, Black Cloak, pendant of Khaine
Skills: Skilled Combatant, Khainite
Location: Auction house
----------

Malacoris had arrived at the town earlier this morning, and made his way swiftly to the Auction House, to see what was on offer in the sales. He was briefly stopped by the gate guard, who swiftly let him pass upon seeing his Khainite origins.

Striding down the cold streets of the city, and arriving at the Auction house, Malacoris entered, and went up to the bar Area. He heard the Auctioneer shouting for a higher bid on the current slave, a cockatrice hatchling, and rasied his hand "Ten, ten gold pieces, this slave will make good sacrifice for the temple" he called out....
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Post by Smiler666 »

IC: Name: Illim
Profession: local beastmaster
Equipment: various stabby things and a scourge
End-post location: the auction house

Illim whipped his head around to face yet another khainite who he had not notice arrive and who had the audacity to ignore his warning and outbid him, and for the sake of some idiotic ritual!?! What kind of blind fanatic wastes such a fine specimen on simple execution!?! "Surely, friend, you can find cheaper and less suicidal methods of pleasing the gods than this pining creature? For the sake of your health I would suggest you leave the dangerous beasts to those with... any... kind of expertise." Illim turned back to where the auctioneer was no doubt smiling like a Hag Graef Nauglir at the idea of a bidding war, "I'll raise the bid to 12 gold."

Illim made a mental note to loose Betsy on this fool if he persists with his stupidity. If he wants to commit suicide then at least I can save some coin out of it.
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Post by Carathyle maveric »

Name : Illirith
Profession : Female Devotee of Khaine
Location : In the Auction House Bar

Hearing the bids from the beastmaster for the cockatrice hatchling, it made Illirith smile from ear to ear. 'Protecting? Or gaining a measure of strength? Which one is it my beastmastery friend?' she thought, turning her gaze toward the newly arrived Khainite. "Khaine's servant, either you're a fool, or incredibly dumb. Khaine will be displeased with seeing one of his devotee's getting themselves slaughtered at the hands of a mere hatchling. Don't underestimate the cockatrice, nor its hatchlings, for it will be your death. And in case of an even greater stupidity, that of an entire temple. I suggest you back off and wait for any other lot, you don't want to go in against a beastmaster with actual experience in these sorts of things." She yelled from the door toward the newly arrived. Not afraid for any consequences of her actions, she continued. "Other then the obvious, which temple do you serve? For you claim to wish to commit suicide in Khaine's glory."

Her words contained a venom, for if indeed it was Har Ganeth to be his Temple, she would know he was either an Executioner, or a spy. His attributes were contradicting for an executioner, and his equipment as well. If he claims to be any other, she would be certain of the last, for there are no other males allowed within the circles of Khaine except Assassin's, and these don't use Draiches.

I'd normally support any of Khaine's servants, one way or the other, but this guys... he's too fishy for me to get a grip, he's much like that guy just now, with his... little sword, and his... accent just... like... mine. She started to think about the Khainite that wished to bid on a single slave, and which even neglected an offer made by her for him to spill blood. His build was quite athletic, much like an actual Executioner, which Illirith could confirm, considering her past with some of them.

A grin appeared on her face for the memories of those moments opened up in her mind, Their Draich was to compensate. She thought, preventing herself from breaking out in a maniacal laught. She returned to the image she gained from the Khainite, to recapture and compare to this one. Only difference she could tell of was his sword, yet all Executioners she knew did not wear light armour, nor a cloak.

She was one to talk, she being a devotee while carrying a sword and shield combination.
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Carathyle Maveric:(Group 28 Warrior)
Ws:5 S:4 T:3 D:4 I:3
Equipment:
Enchanted* Obsidian Long sword, MC Light armour, Dark Steed(Sephirah), Shield, MC Longbow(89 arrows), 56 Circlets, Maibed Dagger, Asur Spear and Disguise.
Age: 89
Skills: Ride, Acrobatics
*Increased Strength, holds the soul of his father
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Post by Warlord arskittar »

Name: Malacoris
Profession: Priest of Khaine
Location: Auction House Bar

Malacoris smiled to himself before replying. "Perhaps beastmaster, you do not understand the meaning of sacrifice? One does not simple present an offering, and slice its throat, rather one fights it in glorious combat, shedding the blood of the enemy, in order to please the thirst of Khaine, blessed be his name."

Malacoris continued "As a priest of Khaine, I must be ever vigilant for the offerings I can present to the Lord Of Murder, perhaps, Beastmaster, and, Devotee of Khaine, we can come to an arrangement. If you desire the beast, you can have him, on the condition you assist me in finding a more worthy offering. As for you Devotee, what is your name, a Priest such as myself can always find use for one such as you in our retinues. Unless of course, you are unwilling to serve the Temple, and by extension, the Lord Khaine?

Malacoris finished, his hand placed firmly on his Driach for good measure.

"Or should I raise the bid, to 20 Gold?" he added with a smile...
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Post by Nightcall »

Mod Post

Auction House


Surprisingly, the cockatrice was the subject of a great deal of attention. Counter bids were placed, and before long the price had reached, 'Twelve gold to the Beastmaster, do I hear fourteen?' One of the guards present gave the sack a gentle shove with his foot, causing the hatchling to squawk angrily; the noise a cross between a young eagle screech and a basilisk's hiss. 'We have a great investment here. These beasts only tend to come in once a year...' the auction master announced loudly, hoping to wet the appetites of the punters further.


Weaponsmith's Workshop

The smith waited for the two Druchii to reply, impatiently slapping the shrapnel point in an empty palm. If either of these two were responsible for the explosion he'd see to it that their flayed hides were sent to the Tanner.

Before anyone had a chance to speak, a Temple Witch stepped into the workshop. The smith stared at her heeled boots, his gaze slowly raising until he met her eyes with his. Only then did the embarrassment of his own attire hit him, as the deadly beauty spoke to the elf with the odd accent.
Last edited by Nightcall on Mon Apr 09, 2012 6:41 am, edited 1 time in total.
Casaythe Blackstorm - Warrior (Corsair) - Group 22
Skills: Awareness, Endurance
Equipment: Short Sword, Glaive, Medium Armour, Sea Dragon Cloak, Repeater Crossbow, clip of bolts [11/20], 405 gold, Talisman of Darkness, Tool Kit, 2 months' rations
Stats: WS4, S4, T5, D3, I4

Mod, Group 38
Locked