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SAU X: Traders and Traitors 
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Morathi's Best Friend
Morathi's Best Friend
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Joined: Tue Oct 04, 2005 5:06 pm
Posts: 1203
Location: Flanders, Belgium
It was a luxurious chamber, to be sure. All around were small tables with trinkets and daubles varying widely in appearance and taste. Today, the room had a decidedly bluish hue, probably because the chandeliers were recently outfitted with crystal balls that carried the same blue tint. Still, everything in the large lounge bore the resemblance of at least some modicrum of grace, style, and elegance.

Mioralynthia was not at ease. To the best of her knowledge, she wasn't even supposed to be here, let alone as a spokeswoman. She double-checked the robes she wore for any imperfections, took a last, deep breath, and walked on. She was relieved, if not surprised, to see Darts strolling around the chamber as well.

Darts was the captain of the Ark that was lastly used as a flagship in an artifact raid on Lustria. The raid itself had failed, somewhere between 'tragically' and 'spectacularly' on the spectrum of failure, but Darts was hardly to be blamed—he was not in charge of the raid but rather of transportation, and he had done so expertly. All in all, Darts' unsteady exterior and questionably alcohol-filled breath belied a great deal of competence in his profession. “You here to see the High...” His fingers twiddled idly in the air while his eyes rolled up to recall the title, and failed. “...something?”

Mioralynthia stared dumpfoundedly at the captain for a while before answering. “The High Emissary of the Witch King?”

Darts nodded on with half a wink. That one, yes. He didn't appear particularly awake.

“What do you suppose she called us for?” Mioralynthia felt that same wave of unease flow over her again, and silently rubbed her arms with her hands; she felt cold. “Must be important if it's her.”

“Must not be if it's us. Then again, perhaps it's not us, but really you and me that she is after, since calling you and me does not necessarily imply that she would have need of both of us for the same thing she would want to call us both for.” It might have made more sense if Darts were a slight more articulate and less wavy when talking. “Savvy?”

One of Lynthia's eyebrows rose. She had a faint idea of what he meant, but she still willed him to explain, if at all possible in his condition. “Were you given a reason we're here?”

“You would not happen to recall that 'oopsie' we had at sea?” He took a step closer, holding his index fingers up. “When all the alarm bells went crazy and all the crew were running left and right when you came to deck, and I told you all to just gently go back down, ignore the screams of sheer panic and despair that would undoubtedly make it through, not to worry at all, and ultimately not to mention any of it once we made shore?”

Yes, she did indeed recall that. That and the definite noise of creaking wood and metal.

Darts bent over as far as he actually meant to instead of it being a side-effect of his constant swaying. “Somebody mentioned it.”

The double doors ahead of them opened, and a meticulously dressed servant approached, chin held high, nose pointed into the air, and wearing an aura of calm, composure, and dignity. “Sir, Madam,” he spoke impeccably, “the mistress will see you now. If you would please follow me.”

Deciding that declining that offer would probably be poor etiquette, Darts and Mioralynthia followed the servant into the meeting chamber. Even though Lynthia was the closest thing to an unofficial emissary that the city council had, she had never been here. She did inform with Tarbo, who reportedly had been there “once or twice,” and he had forewarned her for a few of the emissary's ideosynchrasies. After all, forewarned was forearmed.

Still, it took her a moment to adjust to the sheer opulence and iridescence displayed in the room. It was large, admittedly huge, and sported every colour imaginable in most nooks and crannies, though the overall hue bore a hint of cyan. She tongued-cheekily admitted Tarbo having a correct description of the room: somewhere between staring into the sun and “trippin' on a rainbow.”

The emissary herself, Rensat, was less cerimoniously dressed than Mioralynthia—though arguably more so than Darts—and flaunted an at times inappropriate but relentless fashion sense. She had a pointed appearance, the gleam of a quick wit in the shine of her eyes, and quick, fluid, determined moves and gestures. Anyone could tell from a first look that this was definitely a woman in charge.

“Ah, captain, sorceress, good of you to come,” she greeted them in quick, articulate voice. “Allow me to brief. What seperates us from the Asur in the human mind?”

Mioralynthia knew better than to answer that rethorical question and merely skipped her eyes at Darts. He kept silent for a moment, contemplating, and finally offered: “800 miles of ocean?”

Ignoring the comment, Rensat showed an opened, ornate envelope, and handed it over to Mioralynthia. “You are aware of the Asur footholds on the Old World. Those footholds serve as trading posts, exchanging goods and currency with the indigenous humans that have split into two empires: one called Bretonnia and another operating under the unspectacularly creative name of 'The Empire'.”

Mioralynthia opened the envelope and found several pages of information, signed both with signature as with seal. It was hard to get an idea of what these reports would tell her; she'd have to look into them at a later time.

“Little to our surprise, the Asur are consistently overcharging them for inferior goods, as if ridding themselves of bad stock. While the humans themselves will likely be unable to tell the difference, it does give us an opportunity to intervene on our and, in unfortunate extension, their behalf.”

Rensat beckoned for Darts and Lynthia to follow her to a long table—too long for good taste—where a map of the world was displayed. “In their fragmented 'Reich', there is a prince who has shown increasing annoyance at the Asur's de facto monopoly on elven craftsmanship. And we are going to offer him a perspective to break that monopoly.”

Lynthia pulled her chin while staring at the map. As quickly as Rensat spoke, the entire concept came as unusual to her. Druchii trading with the human empires? There was a certain market between the factions, but it was more of a unidirectional transfer of unsolliciting workforce and property. “We are going to open trade negotiations?”

“It's hardly trade at the moment; more of a steady income to the Asur. If we can offer a better deal to the humans, they may be willing to help us take over the trading colonies. Of course, the Asur will notice that the prince is off on a trade negotiation in distant Naggaroth, and you can imagine how things fare from there.”

“They counter our offer with a better one?” Darts wagered with an exaggerated smile.

“Don't be daft. They will do anything in their power to stop us; if need be, assassinate the prince and make us look like the culprits.”

“All very well, mistress, but how do we fit into this effort?” Mioralynthia raised. All in all not a bad question, considering that, no matter how skilled a sorceress she would be, she was still only that.

°°°

A stark sun shone brightly onto the temple garden. The sky was clear and blue—not a single cloud to be seen. A very slight breeze gently waved the grass to the side. A typical summer day, but more of an exception on Naggaroth, especially so in the north. It was one of those days that could not be anything other than carefree.

Weather was exceptionally mild at the time, even for being early summer. Most travellers would expect summer to be a time of warm weather on the northern hemisphere, but that was not entirely true for Naggaroth, an inhospitable terrain not only because of its native creatures but also its cold weather. Then again, Naggaroth was not all sleet and blizzard, and today was one of those days that reaffirmed itself as being such a notable exception.

To top it off, today was something of a holiday. It wasn't a national holiday, or even an official holiday, but today was one of those days when the Temple went out of its way to show another side of itself: the inside. Today was open house for most parts, and special services were at affordable prices. It wasn't entirely selfless of the Temple, of course, since this kind of publicity kept it in public attention and on the list of anyone's potential payroll, but showed a friendlier face than the 'rumours' of wanton sacrifice to and bloody orgies in praise of the god of murder, Khaine.

Tarbo enjoyed the stroll through the garden after the long travel, even though it was not particularly quiet or peaceful; children were haring off after eachother with uncanny speed and precision. Years, if not decades, of training and honing his reflexes were now put to use in dodging odd balls and oddballs.

It had become common practise for the children to be dumped in the garden while the parents went for a visit in the temple, their visits perhaps merely a look-see, often hoping for a chance to meet one of the dignitaries. Druchii on the whole were a somewhat religious lot; still, most weren't going to the temple to resolve physical ailments that more proficient doctors could have mended, but rather to ask for free blessings in some endeavour. Few brought their children along for such a thing, hence the makeshift crèche.

“I never thought I'd see the day,” Tarbo chuckled when walking up to Anleth, who was sitting under a tree and keeping an eye on the playing children. “The Temple finally ran out of money and is outsourcing its officers as babysitters.”

Anleth looked up at the sudden voice and smiled politely when she recognised Tarbo. “Just keeping an eye on them, sir.” She took a deep breath, radiating peace and calm. This was life on the easy side, and came as close to vacation as she was likely to have. “They do need that eye on them, though. Children this age imitate their parents to the letter, whatever their profession...” She trailed off and looked about for her charges. “Officially, I'm headhunting. How about you, sir?”

Tarbo merely nodded absent-mindedly. When a silence dropped, he snapped out of his trance and looked back at Anleth. “Sorry, I didn't get that—I was, ah, how do they say.”

“Staring at my legs, sir.”

“Right, that's the one. Thanks for the assist.” He hunched next to her and kept an eye on the children running about, playing. “So, what've you learnt?”

Anleth pointed past him at a kid trying to hide behind a tree. “That one is tricky; he already tried twice to stab someone in the back. I took four knives off him, but I'm convinced he has another hidden on him somewhere. And then there's the one on the right, here, with the fan club. Keeps trying to take her clothes off when people are watching.”

Tarbo nodded, rubbing his chin in thought. “What do you think? Temple or Convent?”

“Definitely Convent material.”

Again, Tarbo nodded, agreeing with Anleth. She has a keen eye on people, which was probably what made her an able security officer. And then there was something else on his mind that he believed added to her ability. “I have to hand to you, captain,” he admitted, “I didn't think you'd be this calm today.”

Anleth's eyebrow rose with a lopsided smile. “Open house is my day off. Just sitting under a tree, enjoying the sunshine.”

“I just thought you'd be nervous about that prince and his family arriving in two days, but it seems you have everything under control.” He gave her a wink and stood upright, stretching. “And in that case, I'll take a tour through the temple myself.”

“A what and his what arrive when?” Anleth's voice didn't carry surprise as much as utter disbelief.

“You know, the prince from the Reik and his family, for these trade negotiations.” Tarbo frowned at the reaction, then raised both eyebrows. “You did not know.”

“I did not know.”

“Well, you still have about 40 hours to fix everything. Normally, I'd have to say you can pull this off, but boy, are you screwed.”

“Thanks for the peptalk, sir.”

“Anytime.”

°°°

Amazement, startling amazement. Anleth stared dumbfoundedly at the city council secretary. She had wanted to talk to Mioralynthia personally, but since she was absent, her secretary would have to do. And the secretary told Anleth flatly that she had been informed over a month ago.

“How can I have been informed,” she tried to reason, “if I am standing to ask why I haven't?”

“Our records say a memo was sent to your desk,” the secretary replied in a snap.

“But I don't have a desk.”

The secretary frowned. Was she thinking? Had Anleth finally managed to plough through the drudgery automaton of administration and penetrated layer onto layer of prefabricated responses into the small bolster of common sense and sentient thought? Truly, miracles were still of this world. The secretary turned wordlessly and checked the archives for what seemed like minutes or hours.

“Ah,” the secretary finally replied. “It seems you do have a desk.”

“No,” Anleth countered. “I am very confident that I do not.”

“Of course you do, we sent your memos there. How can we deliver memos to something that doesn't exist?”

“But that is exactly my point!” Despair was creeping into Anleth's voice.

“It says right here that you have been assigned a desk, and that a memo was sent to you to confirm that.”

“A memo? You sent me a memo that I have a desk?”

“Yes, we sent it to your desk.”

“So you sent a memo to my desk, saying that said desk is now my desk.”

The secretary nodded with a sigh; this woman was wasting her time.

“But how can I have gotten that memo if... if... Argh!” Anleth threw her hands up in frustration, turned, and paced out of the room.

°°°

“Kcender.”

Anleth's voice enjoyed the excellent acoustics to carry it all around the large room. Soldiers—Temple Guards—were lined up in front of her, and she was making the rollcall.

“Kcender,” she repeated. No answer. The scratch of pencil over paper bounded off the walls like hushed laughs and whispers hanging in the periphery of the senses.

“Rondger.” No answer. “Rondger.”

“I think he's off on holidays,” one of the guards replied. “He mentioned something about being given a month's leave.”

“That's strange,” Anleth countered without looking up from her list. “I never got a request for leave. I certainly haven't cleared one. Tyrsis.” Again, no answer. “Tyrsis.”

She tapped her pencil on her list, looked up sharply, and saw... a handful of people standing in front of her. “Can anyone tell me where on earth my Temple Guard is?”

Amazed, ignorant, stupefied looks all around. Good question.

°°°

Mioralynthia sighed when the assembled dignitaries and their retinues had finally retreated to their quarters. There was a whole lot of administrative ruckus surrounding their arrival. Their identities had to be checked and double-checked as soon as possible—if an imposter lurked within them, the public outrage would go beyond the scope of the Temple itself.

The presence of these dignitaries was necessary; without them, there was no reason for the prince to show up at all. It was with them that he would have to negotiate trade agreements and settle on rates and routes. As well, both sides would have to maneuver through the considerable amount of red tape that was likely to stack up on the occasion like rats on cheese.

Most of these people had been sent by a House or some sort of organisation to represent their interests and act as their spokesman. Surprisingly, there was no official spokesperson standing for the gouvernment as a whole: no emissary from the king, no diplomat from the city council, not even as little as a note of absense. But Mioralynthia stopped her musings as she spotted the person she needed to see: Captain Anleth Lareight.

“Captain,” she addressed more than greeted her, “I'll leave the dignitaries in your charge. You'll have their identity papers sent to you shortly.”

“My apologies, mistress, but I can not spare my time at the moment,” Anleth excused herself with a brief but obligatory bow. “I urgently need to speak to our administration.”

“I have no need of your spare time, captain,” Mioralynthia replied sternly. “I have need of you fulfilling your duties.” The entire event was entrusted into her care, and she had in turn entrusted it to the local temple. She was more than slightly stressed about it.

“Regretfully, mistress, the Temple Guard is not able to fulfill its duties. Now please excuse me, I must—”

“Not able to fulfill its duties? What are you on about?”

Anleth pressed her lips briefly, turned back to Mioralynthia and took a deep breath. “Over fifty of my guards were sent on vacation. Another such group is undergoing extra training in a location I have never heard about. Twenty are undergoing medical tests in another city for the next two weeks. All without my knowledge or consent.”

“Are you saying the Temple is down to a skeleton crew?” Mioralynthia was as amazed as she sounded. In all her decades as attachée to the city council, she had never encountered an understaffed temple. She was in fact not even sure there was some sort of contingency plan for.

“Some of our dignitaries have more stylists than I have guards.”

Mioralynthia thought it over quickly, considering the consequences. “Fix it,” she finally said. “I don't care how you do it, I don't care what strings you need to pull—call in conscription if you need to—but straighten out this merde!”

Anleth bit her tongue for a moment, took a respectful step back, bowed, and left.

°°°

It is still early morning as clarions sound all around you. The prince is due to make his arrival through the temple's front gates into the courtyard within seconds. For being an artistically unimpressive structure, you have to admit that local personnel managed to beautify it into a fit location for reception.

You let your eyes flick about while waiting to greet the prince and his retinue. To your left, the temple itself, with most of its personnel lined alongside it. To your right, a number of other dignitaries that found it needed to be present but will not be joining any of the negotiations: Emmisary, Drachau, that kind of people. The ones to take credit rather than blame.

And then there are the people like yourself: merchants, traders, diplomats, dignitaries, everyone you would call together to negotiate a trading agreement, and perhaps a few more. There are more than a dozen of you, but most of the faces are unfamiliar, which makes you doubt the importance of some of them. Then again, they will likely think the same of you, so perhaps the benefit of the doubt should be given.

And 'lo, the prince and his escort arrive. Opulence flows off the convoy in all directions, with even the lowest guards dressed in riches that are a match for the ceremonial outfit for the Temple Guard—you can't help but notice that the latter's numbers are very, very few. You had expected more of them on this extraordinary occasion.

The carriages stop, the clarions go silent, and the prince appears. It is a bitter pill to swallow; where most leaders with the Druchii are prime examples and role models to their peers and lessers, the prince seems more a caricature of his own race than anything of a leader. He is short, stocky (plain fat when out of earshot) with stump saucages for fingers, clad in as many riches as his frame can stand to bear. He leaves a very definite impression, though exactly what impression that would be is subject to debate and taste.

Protocol is followed. First, the ranking officials of the actual hosts are met and greeted. Mioralynthia, attachée to the city council and more or less entrusted with the proper flow of the entire event, bows briefly, although you notice it takes some swallowing of pride to do so to a lesser race. You catch an exchange of greetings, but don't pay much attention to it; after all, you will have all the time in the world to get acquainted with this human specimen.

Next to Mioralynthia is Anleth, captain of the Temple Guard. The title roughly translates to head of internal security. She is very young for the responsibility, but she carries it with competence and dignity.

Next to the captain is Tarbo, a trainer from a far more southern temple who typically has a good reason, or alibi, to be wherever he is. He usually gets called in to 'fix' things. Since he's here in advance, you wonder how long it will take for stuff to start breaking.

When met with Mioralynthia and Anleth, the prince smiles more broadly. Apparently, regardless of racial differences, the man had some sense of taste still in him, though he didn't readily apply it to his own garderobe. Precisely for the eventuality of meeting the fairer specimen, he had brushed up his Eltharin. His Eltharin rather than his Drukh-Eltharin.

“And will you fair ladies be accompanying me on a tour through the complex?” the prince goes through the trouble of uttering in a brave attempt at the language.

Brief silence on behalf of the addressed. Anleth bends slightly to Tarbo with a whisper, her face frozen impeccably: “Did he just ask whether we would like to have intercourse with his octoped siblings?”

“Smile and nod, captain,” Tarbo replies, his expression equally engraved in stone. “Smile and nod.”

“Let's stick to Reikspiel on the tour,” Mioralynthia offers politely and guides him away with a handful of bodyguards.

A member of the Temple Guard comes running in the distance, trying to avoid breaking protocol by simply staying out of sight, but red-facedly homes in on his captain. An urgent whisper is exchanged—you can't tell what is being said, but Anleth's surprised reaction hints to bad news. She gives you a discerning look while listening to the messenger, then dismisses him.

It's an hour later now. All of you are assembled in the temple's meeting room, also called the council chamber, led there by a number of guards. Some of you take the situation with grace and calm, others with overt frustration, and even more are loudly claiming their outrage at being cordoned in another chamber. Regardless of individual coping skills, the Temple owes you an explanation.

After much discussing with eachother and threatening with various sanctions against the Temple and its leadership, the double doors to the council chamber finally open again. In comes walking Tarbo, and if he is carrying some kind of explanation, it is certainly not in written form. Nonetheless, an anticipating silence forms in the group. You want answers, and you want them now.

“I don't have all the particulars,” Tarbo opens with, and offers everyone a seat at the elongated table centering the room. “We do, however, have a dead guy.”

Something about the tone of his voice tells you that this man's unfortunate demise was not an accident; after all, an accident is no reason to keep you huddled into the same room for an hour without an explanation. You accept that this is the Temple's turf and territory, with their rules, but also on their hospitality, and they would be poor hosts if an explanation were not eminent.

“Murdered,” one amongst you assumes, and an astute claim it is.

“Yes, ehm,” and Tarbo scratches the back of his head while pressing his lips into a thinking smile. “Officially it's still out into the open, but the hints are pretty strong.”

“So, who died?” An obvious question, but one that hadn't dawned with many yet.

“Lord Zareth, a trader from House Arhakuyl invited to partake in the discussions here.”

A pondering silence falls. It's not one of respect for a man's passing, but rather one of realisation and curiosity. Zareth was one of your own. Was this a singular occurence, some personal settling of accounts? No... no, if so, his murderer(s) would not have chosen for such an overt occasion full of risk. After all, killing on Temple grounds was done by the Temple, and the Temple alone. Security was given carte blanche to deal with trespassers.

“Why are we here?” a calmer voice asks.

Tarbo takes a deep breath and looks over you. “We have reason to believe that the perpetrator, or perpetrators, are amongst your number or that of your retinues. Unfortunately, recent events left the Temple itself handicapped.

“Now, the world of politics and diplomacy is beyond our own. If anyone can find rotten apples in the bunch, it would be yourselves. Lynthia is trying keep the visiting blobber—excuse me: prince—occupied for as long as she reasonably can. The captain is investigating the murder scene as we speak.”

“Now, you've answered why we are here,” someone interrupts, “but not why we are actually here. I take it our safety is not the primary concern, or there would be more guards.”

Tarbo nods in agreement. “We have a dilemma on our hands. In order to have these talks and negotiations succeed, we need you out there with the prince and need to give you access to your retinues.

“On the other hand, we want to get to the bottom of this as quickly as possible. The Temple is handling a prime assumptions here: those amongst you that wish these talks to succeed outnumber those who do not. In that vein, and keeping your expertises in mind, we are charging you as a whole with the task of finding the guilty.

“Temple resources are limited at the moment. Whoever gains a majority vote of distrust against his or her person will be removed from the delegation and put under investigation by the Temple Guard.”

“And you are here because...?”

Tarbo sits down and puts his feet on the table corner before answering with a sigh: “Because I am the only guy officially on vacation.”

_________________________
    Players
  1. Drakhan
  2. Ashnari Doomsong
  3. The Golden Arrow
  4. XtremeNL
  5. SBOD
  6. Morvai
  7. High Executioner Kalus
  8. lordofthenight
  9. Khelmor Blackspine
  10. Mel'Reyna
  11. 51la5
  12. DancingPigeon
  13. Sirist


It is now Day. The activity deadline is set for Friday, 13h00 GMT, which is 48 hours from time of writing. The final deadline is set for Sunday, 13h00 GMT, giving another 48 hours for a total of 96 hours.

Remember that everyone needs to have posted before the activity deadline passes. Waiting for other people is not an excuse, or at least not one that will save you from Pinky.

Happy hunting.

_________________
SAU XV: Pawn of the Dead | SAU XVII: The Frosty Dozen | SAU XIX: On the Brink of Madministration | Running fiction: House Arhakuyl


Wed Mar 07, 2007 10:57 am
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Black Guard
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"Why are we here?"
XtremeNL asked, but the reply only left him muttering something along the lines of "This indignification only shows the uselessness of the temple guards."

He raised his hands, the chains around his wrist making the noise of rattling gold, his slik sleeve falling to his elbow.
Ök everyone, let's make this quick, the murderous filth best just tell their name. Your deaths are inevitable anyway, and this is a waste of my time!"


Wed Mar 07, 2007 8:22 pm
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"I somehow doubt that the murderer, or murderers is just going to say they did it. Better to take a shot at getting us killed or stuck behind bars then just go quietly.... Well until they reach the fellow in charge of the hot irons."

This came from an old elf. Tall with white hair, his cloths were simple but obviously high quality. Next to his chair lay a long, curved sword. Perhaps two hand withs shorter then a draich, and about half as wide.

"I'm Drakhan. I deal in whatever turns a profit. And I spend allot of time in different locations. Whatever works best for me."

_________________
Drakhan who was once Shaadan who was once Drow sorcerer who was once Tangas who was once Drow Sorcerer.

Damn you SAU!


Wed Mar 07, 2007 9:20 pm
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Morvai shook his head in disgust. First they send him on some trading errant, a trading errant with a human to make things even worse. Things became even worse when he actually saw the human. The ‘prince’ they were going to trade with had a striking resemblance with a pig. This was just to much for Morvai. How did they expect a sign of sophistication, wealth, beauty, class and nobility as him to threat this pig with respect.
If it wasn’t for the horrible punishments House Blackblade deals out upon failure I would have spit this pig in his face and put it out of his misery.

When Morvai is called to the council room his gut tells him something is wrong.
As moments later Tarbo walks in with the news of a dead guy Morvai immediately asks who it is that has past away.
So this rotten job has just started and already someone has died. Maybe he died of the humans odour. Thought Morvai with a grin

Morvai shakes his head at the comment of a stranger. Did the fool honestly expect that the murders just stepped forward?
Just when Morvai was about to make a remark at the foolishness that he just heard someone else beat him to it.
This was obviously a more sensible person. That was quite a relief. For one second Morvai had feared that he was surrounded by idiots, but atleast this guy bode some hope of intelligence.

“I agree with you, Drakhan.” Said Morvai as he stood up from his chair. “No murderer is just going to surrender when we have no clue on whoever he or she is.”

As Morvai stands up you can see that he is still young. His clothes are made from fine fabric and his tunic has striking resemblances of that of a duellist uniform. Not very surprisingly you spot a expensive yet practical rapier sheathed at his left hip. On his right hip you spot a dagger. Together with his long black hair that is tied back in a braid. You can easily do the math, this guy loves to duel.

“I’m Morvai. I’m a diplomat of House Blackblade. I’m here to ensure that Vikarh will have a piece of the profit at the end of this ‘mission’.” Said Morvai. Now that he has proclaimed from which house he is you suddenly see that he has his city colours all over him. His black hair has pale green streaks in it. his tunic is a mix of black and green colours. Even his eyes are green.

“Now I suggest everyone states their name and business, maybe that will help to draw a better picture of the situation.”

“And Lord Tarbo, can we still speak to our retainers or are we prisoners here?”

_________________
Masters of Mischief (NC background)
The Black Blades (DE). W: 2 D: 2 L: 1


Wed Mar 07, 2007 9:57 pm
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((Nice Captain Jack Sparrow impression, Tarbo, I hope we get to see more of Darts in the near future!))

"Am I too late?!" shrieked a voice, inexorably becoming louder and louder until those present could identify it as belonging to a rather young and small druchii as he burst into the meeting chamber, losing his footing at the last minute and tripping, his body a frenzy of panicked movement as he desperately attempted to control his landing before crashing clusmily into one the chairs, creating quite a reverberating crash throughout the chamber and the halls outside, his body a tangle of limbs with the chair and his finely tailored robes. The elf seemed no older than a century or so, yet no one could mistake the somewhat childish newcomer as he quickly rose up, brushing his hair aside as he addressed in a hurried and nervous tone, his mouth almost a blur, "I'm Osthil, representing-house-Talmarn-in-this-dire-state-of-affairs!"

Not many would be able to believe that this bumbling young elf was actually head of his household, according to those familiar with the somewhat eccentric House Talmarn, whose former head had been killed in an accident involving, suffice to say, a manticore and a bottle of wine. His mannerisms and expressions seemed innocent, almost devoid of the usual malice and contempt usually seen amongst the faces of any druchii, yet none could be mistaken that this lad was indeed responsible for doubling his house's earnings and prestige through shrewd and masterful dealings and trade agreements. His robes were of a finely tailored weave, if not somewhat disheveled from his slip up only moments ago, a tantalizingly and complex swirl of acid green and obsidian, garish yet beautiful at the same time.

After a few moments of catching his breath as he rose quickly from his position and carefully placing the chair back in its original position, Osthil made the attempt to seem imperious and important, puffing himself up slightly and viewing the room and those present for a moment as he said somewhat shakily, "I can safely say t-that we are still waiting for the other members of the council to a-a-arrive?"


Wed Mar 07, 2007 10:24 pm
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Morvai had almost jumped out of his chair, weapons drawn, when the newcomer came rushing in. quickly calming himself down, he sat down again.

“To arrive or to speak up.” Replied Morvai, maybe a little to harsh. “or this would be the entire council but that seems unlikely to me.”

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Masters of Mischief (NC background)
The Black Blades (DE). W: 2 D: 2 L: 1


Wed Mar 07, 2007 10:45 pm
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Angel of Darkness
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Khelmor was nodding off before the loud sound of something fallen awoke him, he realised when that thing, whatever ran past him at high speed, had knocked his helmet off his knee. Suddenly realising were he was ment to be, he put his helmet on and ran down the corridor. Skidding to a halt outside the doorway, Khelmor stood as straight as he could and walked in as proper as he could, though Khelmor didnt realise that his helmet was too high for the doorway. As Khelmor tryed to sweep into the room he had forgoten to remove his helmet, and with a loud smack, the helmet sent a loud ringing through his head. Stumbling into the room, he tripped falling to the ground in front of Morvai. "Your not the smartest one, are you?" chuckled Morvai.
"yes sir, i mean.." answered Khelmor hurriedly. Khelmor cursed to himself that he had made such a shocking entry. This would not fare well at all..

_________________
Saldrimek Xenan - WS6 / S4 / T3 / D5 / I3

Equipment: Executioners Axe (Rune of Beastslaying - Heroic Killing Blow), 2 Scimitars (Rune of Speed - Always Strike First), Dagger, Rune Branded Leather Armour, Executioner Helm, Fine Set of Throwing Knives (x4)
Inventory: Amulet of Darkness, Poison Vials x7, Deadly Poison Vials x8
Mount: Dark Steed
Gold: 163
Skills: Ambidexterity, Frenzy, Two Weapon Fighting, Ride
Class: Khainite


Thu Mar 08, 2007 5:16 am
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Morathi's Best Friend
Morathi's Best Friend
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Location: Flanders, Belgium
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Tarbo 'shoots' at Drakhan with his fingers when he reasons that chances were slim—possibly bordering on unlikely—that the perpetrators would buckle under the inquisitive question: Did you do it? Add instense, discriminating stare and your insurmountable interrogation technique is ready.

“On another note, you may want to keep comments about the Temple Guard out of earshot of its captain. I reckon she is not feeling patient at the moment, and she may not wait for approval to throw you in chains for some quality time.” He frowns, rolling his eyes to the left while tonguing his cheek. “I should have phrased that differently.”

Retainers become the topic. Is communication with retainers allowed? It isn't really to Tarbo to say, but he ventures a guess. “Not right now, no, but you will be allowed some scant time with your retinue before you will meet with the prince. Since, as already mentioned, insufficient numbers makes stuff, ah, useless, and with diplomats all the more so.

“You are not incarcerated officially, but we will view any attempt at leaving this chamber as a de facto confession of guilt, and we are encouraged to treat the guilty with inappropriate amounts of violence. Thus, for all intents and purposes...”

A suspect comes running in, excusing himself. Collectively, eyebrows raise in relative silence, a questioning sigh lingering in the air. Tarbo shoots a pointed glare at the guards at the door, who helplessly lift their shoulders. As far as they were told, everyone was in the room already. And then, another comes running in.

Well, if they truly wish to be here, who are we to let them from it?

_________________
SAU XV: Pawn of the Dead | SAU XVII: The Frosty Dozen | SAU XIX: On the Brink of Madministration | Running fiction: House Arhakuyl


Thu Mar 08, 2007 10:45 am
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Drakhan started twisting the plain gold ring he wore in slow circles. "Well speak up the rest of you. I mean to be out of here before the negotiations with our little piggy are over."

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Drakhan who was once Shaadan who was once Drow sorcerer who was once Tangas who was once Drow Sorcerer.

Damn you SAU!


Fri Mar 09, 2007 6:10 am
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Sirist Cadsane crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head. "Drakhan," she sighed, "I am afraid you are looking at this situation from far too simple a lense."

Dressed in a shimmering gown of fustian red and golden scrollwork, the strangely blonde-haired sorceress leaned heavily against a pillar in what was essentially to be her cell for the forseeable future.

"If you want this situation to truly be a non-factor, than we must begin to deduce through -- gasp! -- the concept of logic whom is most likely to want these discussions to fail. They will not simply present themselves, as Lord Tarbo implied."

Sirist had been called here for her impressive personal navy, the Gilded Reavers, whom were one of the major contenders for securing the trade route. However, for the now, things appeared to be going nowhere.

(Sorry. I'm a little... ah... inebriated right now.)

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Dizaun Cadsane
Icon (C) AkoeAbsolute
Sea of Shadows
Gilded Reavers


Fri Mar 09, 2007 8:35 am
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Joined: Mon Nov 27, 2006 3:47 pm
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A small stocky elf in the corner looks up "i am Gabraz Draks a trader from the blackspine mountains as for the murder think we will need to wait until somebody slips up then we will know the murders are" Gabraz then be can fingering a repeater crossbow that’s laying by his chair "I really hop this traitor show them self soom I what to go as soon as this prince this out of here".

_________________
Silas Group 24

Weapon Skill 3
Strength 2
Dexterity 5
Toughness 2
Intelligence 5

Skills: Basic Stealth.

Equipment:
short sword, repeater crossbow, Light green shade cloak, Fire lighter, Stealth armour, Map, 48 gold.


Fri Mar 09, 2007 10:11 am
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"True. So those that don't like talking can be given a little something to loosen their tounges. In the form of them being nominated as a candidate for some "Quality time" Nothing will get done if we all sit here in silence. Thats my logic."

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Drakhan who was once Shaadan who was once Drow sorcerer who was once Tangas who was once Drow Sorcerer.

Damn you SAU!


Fri Mar 09, 2007 10:41 am
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Great, the number of elves that remember what speaking is have doubled. May be their is still hope for this country after all.

“I fully agree with you Drakhan. However I find it a pity that you fail to actually vote for someone.”

Morvai no addressed the whole group as he continued.

“I might not make myself very popular with this, but somebody got to do it. I vote for golden arrow. I say by for hand that it is not because I want to see said person behind bars. It’s simply to get them talking.”

Vote: golden arrow

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The Black Blades (DE). W: 2 D: 2 L: 1


Fri Mar 09, 2007 11:15 am
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"Hell with it. Lets get something done. Though I do feel the need to warn everyone to look closely at everyone. The talkers and the not so talkative. Vote: Golden Arrow. No offense meant."

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Drakhan who was once Shaadan who was once Drow sorcerer who was once Tangas who was once Drow Sorcerer.

Damn you SAU!


Fri Mar 09, 2007 11:23 am
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Cold One Knight

Joined: Fri Mar 10, 2006 7:15 pm
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Location: Halmstad, Sweden
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A pretty old elf rose from his chair and talked quietly to the others.

"Well firstly I'm just going to say that I'm sorry for not talking till now. I have nothing to say in defence of your votes and none else have either. You only know where your own loyalties lies after all so it won't help how much I say that I'm innocent."

"I want us to find the traitors as much as you do so we can leave this room and prepare for the purpose we are really here for. I do really see the potential in this trade meeting and the chanse to make quiet a bit of money on it so it really disturbes me that some of us want all of our death."

"I do however beleve that your path is the right one to take, we need to get everyone talking and do some voting otherwise they will just kill off all of us in our sleep or in other un guarded moments."

He heavily sat down on his chair again.


OOC: OK, I know that you won't believe me, but I actually posted yesterday. Something must have happened while I posted it (I didn't have the time to check as I was in quiet some hurry :?)


Fri Mar 09, 2007 1:08 pm
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"Thank you Golden. In that case I Unvote: the Golden arrow and Vote: DancingPigeon."

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Drakhan who was once Shaadan who was once Drow sorcerer who was once Tangas who was once Drow Sorcerer.

Damn you SAU!


Fri Mar 09, 2007 1:40 pm
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Morathi's Best Friend
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Location: Flanders, Belgium
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“That is, without a doubt, the deadest elf I've ever seen.”

Anleth tilted her head, hunkered near and staring at the victim. She ignored the guard's comments—there were more important things to focus on. Or so she hoped.

There were different types, or classes, of murders. There was the basic murder of passion that left traces. There was the targeted, calculated murder, performed by a particular entity with a motive. But this scene simply didn't fit in.

First of all, there was no bother to remove traces: no hurried wipes, no panicky reactions. While this would point to a more calculated murder, or perhaps temporary insanity, there simply would not be that many traces in a calculated murder.

“Maybe a psychopath did it?” the guard offered while observing Anleth's pensive face.

Anleth shook her head gently in response, pondering. There was no clear motive. Even if this was a hit on the victim's House, or a personal settling of scores, why do this in a temple rather than in some less secure location? Then again, the temple was no longer a secure location, but no-one outside of its own personnel knew this. Was this an inside job?

“Could be someone seeing his chances fit,” the guard tried again.

Anleth frowned mildly and looked at him, willing him to explain.

“Could all be a coincidence. People come from all across the empire, all from different Houses. Maybe some have serious animosity issues and saw a chance with security being at an all-time low.”

“But no-one knew we were low on people,” Anleth countered. “They'd need inside information for that.” Then again, the murder did not seem entirely planned. In fact, the somewhat bloody and public display of the scene was as if to make a statement.

°°°

The messenger leaves as quickly as she had arrived, dashing past the guards again on her way out. The Guard is truly understaffed at the moment; you recall temples being constantly patrolled and supervised, but now, the halls and corridors are empty. Nary a sound makes it in even though the doors are wide open. It's as if everyone decided to take the day off.

“Ladies, gents,” Tarbo opens, not bothering to lift his feet off the table, “we just received word that the tour is going to be coming to an end soon. There are only so many different pillar styles and tapestries in this temple, and the prince and his, ah, children,” and he chooses stress on the word carefully, “are getting bored and need to be entertained.” No sarcasm in his voice is needed; it sounds absurd enough as-is.

“You still have some time, though,” he adds with a sadistic smile. “I'm sure Lynth'll figure something out.”

_________________________
    Players
  1. Drakhan
  2. Ashnari Doomsong (warned)
  3. The Golden Arrow
  4. XtremeNL
  5. SBOD (warned)
  6. Morvai
  7. High Executioner Kalus
  8. lordofthenight (warned)
  9. Khelmor Blackspine
  10. Mel'Reyna (warned)
  11. 51la5
  12. DancingPigeon (warned)
  13. Sirist
    The Golden Arrow
  1. Morvai
    DancingPigeon
  1. Drakhan


Since this is the first in-game Day and people may have missed the start of the SAU for various reasons, I'm going to be lenient this one time and not remove everyone who hasn't posted yet. However, this is an exception I do not intend to repeat: people who do not make subsequent deadlines are removed. I've made provisions for this eventuality, even in face of massive drop-outs, so da-da safety in numbers. ;)

On an unrelated note, I forgot one important rule: it is forbidden to edit posts. If you see a typo--leave it, you'll be forgiven--and if you wish to add something, make a new post, and you'll be forgiven. ;)

_________________
SAU XV: Pawn of the Dead | SAU XVII: The Frosty Dozen | SAU XIX: On the Brink of Madministration | Running fiction: House Arhakuyl


Fri Mar 09, 2007 1:54 pm
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Joined: Thu Apr 21, 2005 4:52 pm
Posts: 796
Post 
shiz! I didn't see this!
Sorry, I've been sick.

IC: Ashnari Doomsong, a squint-eyed little runt of a man, merely eyed the situation cautiously as he chewed at a frog leg, being ill with a strange disease and not having checked on the background. He was therefore rather understandably reluctant to go out upon any great voyages of speech, and chimed in:
"There is much activity and suspicion. This is good."

_________________
General Kala wrote:
...reasons for taking Dark Riders are secondary to their unparallelled ability to rush up and shout "nah na na-naah nah", escape, and do it again...

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Fri Mar 09, 2007 2:06 pm
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“I second Drakhan. It’s good to see some more counsellors ‘awake’.”

Vote: Dancingpigeon.

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Masters of Mischief (NC background)
The Black Blades (DE). W: 2 D: 2 L: 1


Fri Mar 09, 2007 9:14 pm
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Khelmor stood up from his chair, and flexed his muscles, he was wearing Black iron suit of armour and a few spots were covered in blood. "please excuse me for still being coated in my battle armour, for you never know when you may have to fight...."announced Khelmor, eyeing a few people in the room. "Allow me to introduce myself, I am Khelmor Blackspine, no realation to the Blackspine mountains. The Lord of my House is unable to attend, so i wil be representing him, for he is off on business. i hope this will not take too long, for my lord is never really patient," finished Khelmor. Khelmor then sat back down an an drew his long deadly scimitar. "My Lord has also advised me, not to trust anyone who would be in this room, plus he told me to show no mercy towards anyone who is suspected." said Khelmor glaring at the Guards of the room, who just winced as they saw the long black blade.

Vote: Dancing Pigeon

_________________
Saldrimek Xenan - WS6 / S4 / T3 / D5 / I3

Equipment: Executioners Axe (Rune of Beastslaying - Heroic Killing Blow), 2 Scimitars (Rune of Speed - Always Strike First), Dagger, Rune Branded Leather Armour, Executioner Helm, Fine Set of Throwing Knives (x4)
Inventory: Amulet of Darkness, Poison Vials x7, Deadly Poison Vials x8
Mount: Dark Steed
Gold: 163
Skills: Ambidexterity, Frenzy, Two Weapon Fighting, Ride
Class: Khainite


Fri Mar 09, 2007 9:46 pm
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Highborn
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Posts: 754
Location: Brisbane, Australia
Post 
OOC: My most sincerest apologies- I tried to post from work, but got distracted by, well- work and ended up having to go to a meeting before I could finish said post.

Surin watched as people began to implicate he had something to do with the murder, most people would respond with a cry of indignity, pleading ones own innocence- however, Surin did not rise to his position of master merchant of noble House Dra'kro from luck alone.

"Very well, I will say my piece. It appears we already see an alliance forming. Perhaps those of us that are yet to be invited to this exclusive group, that they-" he nodded towards the elves currently voting for him-" seem to have made with very little discussion among themselves, should form one of our own and oust this very suspicious alliance. They seem far to eager to support one another for my liking, and Tarbo has made no mention of there only being one party in this crime."

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Venkh wrote:
But then if wishes were fishes, Id be captain birdseye.


Sat Mar 10, 2007 2:04 am
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Malekith's Personal Guard

Joined: Mon Jan 15, 2007 7:57 pm
Posts: 803
Location: Hell
Post 
(OOC - Woops, my bad. I haven't been on D.net for a few days and didn't realise it had started

And seeing how LotN isn't exactly an Elvish name, I'm going to be Lord Zantroth the Heartless)

"It is in the interests of all that this passes as swiftly as possible," Zantroth spoke, fingering the scar which ran across his left eye. "Constant reminders, and threats" he continued, glancing at Khelmor, "serve no purpose."

_________________
Punishment leads to Fear. Fear leads to Obedience. Obedience leads to Freedom. Therefore, Punishment leads to Freedom.

Kuyoz Nightkiller
WS: 4 S:3 T:3 D:4 I:4
Repeater Crossbow, Short Sword, Shade Cloak, Light Armour
5 throwing daggers, 90gc


Sat Mar 10, 2007 2:07 am
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Beastmaster
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Joined: Tue Sep 20, 2005 2:53 am
Posts: 379
Location: Canada...the other Land of Chill!
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Mel'Reyna had been sitting quietly for a while now, not really drawing much attention from anyone. A long black cloak covered her almost entirely, only the lower part of her face was visible, as a hood obscured the rest of it. Her plain appearance probably helped keep her out of Morvai's scope while she'd been silent, but the room they were in was getting pretty hot, so she decided that it was time to take it off and join in on the discussion, hoping to help get it over with quickly.

She stood up to introduce herself, letting the cloak slide off of her and fall over the chair she'd been sitting on. If she'd pretty much been ignored until now, that certainly wasn't the case anymore. She was wearing a very form-fitting and sexy violet dress with a pair of classy high heels, the whole outfit looked like some very expensive designer clothing, definitely fitting in with the extravagantly dressed crowd. She also wore an elegant set of matching jewelry, consisting of a golden necklace holding a large ruby pendant and a pair of bracelets, as well as a couple of rings decorated by smaller rubies to finish it off. Her jet black hair ran down to her mid-back, and was arranged in a very exotic manner, no doubt several servants had worked on it for at least a couple of hours prior to the event at the temple. Her makeup was as perfect as her traits were, but the problem was that all of that was meant for the Reik prince who seemed to have a fondness for beautiful women, including Druchii women.

As gorgeous as she was though, she wouldn't be able to convince the prince to grant a good trade agreement to her House if she was stuck in a council chamber or, even worse, in a jail cell. She was actually a bit embarrassed at being stuck in a room debating about a murder case while obviously being dressed for something else entirely, she felt very out of place. Anyways, all the more reason for her to get out of here as quickly as possible and get her job done.

-"Excuse me for being a bit shy, these kind of debates are not really my forte. Let me introduce myself: Mel'Reyna Sorrowsoul of House Sorroowsoul, I'm here for the same reason that most of you are. I'll restrain myself for voting for anyone just yet, but if some people refuse to speak up for too much longer I will help you in giving them some incentive to so so, lord Morvai."


Sat Mar 10, 2007 3:33 am
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Angel of Darkness
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Location: Australia
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"Would you like another scar to poke at, Zantroth?" said Khelmor rising from his chair and hefting his scimitar onto his shoulder. The Guards lifted their weapons, and Khelmor hesitated before seating himself back down. A small sigh could be heard throughout the room. "Im sorry everyone, its just all this murder business is quite tiresome," sighed Khelmor, lifting a gold encrusted Goblet to his lips. Khelmor looked down at the liquid in the cup which looked similar too wine. But with the Circumstances at hand, he decided to give it a pass.

_________________
Saldrimek Xenan - WS6 / S4 / T3 / D5 / I3

Equipment: Executioners Axe (Rune of Beastslaying - Heroic Killing Blow), 2 Scimitars (Rune of Speed - Always Strike First), Dagger, Rune Branded Leather Armour, Executioner Helm, Fine Set of Throwing Knives (x4)
Inventory: Amulet of Darkness, Poison Vials x7, Deadly Poison Vials x8
Mount: Dark Steed
Gold: 163
Skills: Ambidexterity, Frenzy, Two Weapon Fighting, Ride
Class: Khainite


Sat Mar 10, 2007 6:11 am
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Executioner
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Joined: Tue Feb 22, 2005 7:04 am
Posts: 152
Location: Auckland, New Zealand
Post 
(OOC-Shiz, sorry i hadn't realised this had started yet. My bad.)

SBOD rose from his chair, looking around his thin lips curving into a slight smile.
"I am sorry for being silent untill now, however i believe that it is best to watch and see who presents themselves early."

He sat back into his chair, looking at Dancing pigeon.
"And pigeon, you raise a very good point."

_________________
A Day Without Sbod Is Like A Day Without Sunshine.


Sat Mar 10, 2007 6:48 am
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