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Post by Einiel on Apr 10, 2017 17:55:39 GMT
Storms scourged the night sky above Blackdale, thundering viciously and bombarding the small town in the middle of nowhere with a relentless downpour. Water eagerly flooded any ceilings and basements left open, and most streets turned into a muddy slog, lacking any sort of pavement. Everyone who could stayed at home, indicated by bright, yellow lights shining through many windows; others found refuge in the Bald Rat, the only pub in Blackdale, situated right next to the tightly sealed town gate. Only the occasional militia man could be seen walking outside, appropriately grumpy about tonight’s shift, yet happy to be locked inside the town rather than outside. Ghouls and other unsavoury creatures haunted the entirety of Darkwood, and woe to anyone too slow to escape the forests after dusk. It wasn’t uncommon to find unwary travellers in the morning, torn and scattered across the surrounding fields. Happiness was an apparition less common than ghosts and wraiths in these lands, most folks have resigned to their fate long ago. Creeping through the streets and staying away from torches, a lone figure swiftly slipped into an alcove bathed in darkness, waiting her turn while wet sloshes announced an incoming patrol. Back pressed against the wall, breath still, the criminal element remained hidden until the militia passed. Although Einiel technically did not have to hide, it would be most suspicious to be caught outside in such weather. Further inspection would reveal a bag full of silverware beneath her cloak, freshly liberated from its rightful owners. Thieves were not popular anywhere, but Blackdale offered very special treatment for those caught red handed – chained to a tree outside of the town, a sacrifice most appreciated by werebeasts and other flesh-hungry monstrosities. Better safe than sorry – carrying her foul bounty, Einiel remained wary, slowly making her way towards the pub, one street at a time. Creaking in the wind, a rotting sign displaying a particularly ugly rat swayed back and forth. The wooden door beneath swung open as she slipped inside and let it shut again, finally safe from the elements. Orange, warm flames flickered in the fireplace and illuminated the walls with their dance, chasing the cold away and immediately making the interior feel like the most welcoming place in Darkwood. Most patrons did not notice the newcomer and continued in their chatter or game of cards, several heads turned her way, including the innkeeper who regarded the elf with a questioning gaze. Not in a hostile manner, rather genuine curiosity and healthy mistrust so common around the place. “I’ll have a beer.” She informed the innkeeper, slightly erasing his suspicions by proving herself a customer. The drenched hood covering her scarlet hair and pointed ears fell off once she picked a table in the far corner, sitting down on a sturdy chair and trying to listen, hopeful for good rumours to circulate around. The smoke, warmth and drunken laughter were quite easy to get used to. After carefully putting down her bag, gently pushing it under the table, Einiel leaned back and relaxed. A heavy thud followed as a bierkrug landed in front of the redheaded elf, its contents thick as muck and darker than Morryxa’s wrath. Brushing aside a few stray locks of hair, Einiel eagerly raised the weighty mug, burying her chin in the rich foam, and took a deep, thirsty sip. The taste was, admittedly, terrible; beggars can’t be choosers and the people of Blackdale found the beverage excellent for drowning their sorrows, provided with no other alternative. A sigh of absolute satisfaction left her mouth upon looking through the window, quite happy to be sheltered tonight.
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Post by Pippa on Apr 11, 2017 14:23:02 GMT
Pippa traveled down Darkwood Road, accompanied only by her own shadow. However, as she ventured further down the road, even her shadow seemed turn back the other way. The tall trees that lined the road towered above her, the outline of their branches cast a harsh shadow against the rough-paved road. The weather was far from ideal: lightning cracking above, bone-cutting wind, and there were dark clouds that poured down rain. Pippa’s clothing was soaked through to the skin, and she shivered quite violently. Just how had she come to this place without even a lantern to light her way? The orphan girl must have taken a wrong turn -- a very wrong turn. This area was quite famed for the night-creatures that dwelled within its borders. Indeed, it was a very dangerous place. Pippa had heard tales about the spirits, werebeasts, and vampires that called Darkwood home -- they were usually featured in a variety of cautionary tales told to frighten children. And was Pippa frightened? Most certainly. The worn leather soles of her boots padded along the wet road, but her pace quickened. Distant sounds came from the woods all around her, eerie calls in the night that sent an eerie shiver down her spine. To make matters worse, some sounded like they were growing closer. Needless to say, it was quite alarming. “Tis only a trick of the wind,” Pippa whispered breathlessly to herself. “Only the wind.”But even Pippa knew this to be a falsehood. In truth, it was lucky that she had made it this far without coming face to face with something ghoulish. Bowing her head down, she felt the rain pelting down against the drenched cloth of her cloak, and she started to run. Pippa could scarcely see the lantern lights of a small town up ahead, thank the stars. She pushed on, not even sparing a glance over her shoulder, for she was too scared to look. As she entered the shabby town gate, she bent forward to cough, sputter, and attempt to catch her breath. The sound of a wooden sign flapping in the wind caught her attention, and she squinted through the rain to see the emblem of a rat. She swallowed hard and moved towards the tavern, thankful for the prospect of a bit of warmth and shelter from the weather. Pippa’s small hand pushed the door open, she entered quietly and kept her eyes to the floor. She wound carefully through the tables and ended up at the bar. “Pardon me,” she started meekly, “How much is it to board for the night?”The tender gave her a narrow glance, and coughed out the price. Pippa retrieved her small bag of coins, there were only a few shining pieces left inside -- not enough for a room. With a sigh, she placed a few coins on the bartop. “Just a mead and some bread, if you have it.”
Einiel
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Post by Einiel on Apr 12, 2017 20:17:24 GMT
“….busted that creepy old rat Kellrog. He still had several stolen items stashed in his house. Imagine that!” Exclaimed a loud, burly voice coming from a table next to the lone elf. “Huh. I always knew the guy was weird, but a thief?” A second voice questioned.
“No, you fool! The cripple’s too old to rob anyone. He must have hired somebody. The captain’s making him talk now.”
Einiel’s heart skipped a beat. Kellrog. Her fence, meant to transform the bag full of stolen goods into a handful of coins. Without him, the silverware presented nothing more than evidence proving her guilt. How long did she have? A brief look through the wet window showed no militia preparing to barge in, yet that did little to soothe the girl’s worries. Too cowardly to resist interrogation, there was no doubt the old man would tell his captors everything to save his own hide, meaning they either already knew or would know about her involvement soon. Normally, the elf would try to get far away from the mess, but greed got the better of her. Captured or not, Kellrog still owed her a nice sum of gold for tonight’s work and she intended to get it, plus something extra.
Loud gulps followed and the mug was about halfway empty when the door swung open and let in another newcomer. Flames flickered when assaulted by the cold breeze that rushed inside, painting constantly shifting and changing shadows on the walls. Having yet to dry, the flame-haired elf shivered, briefly throwing her gaze towards the entrance and joining other patrons as they spied on the visitor. Nobody out of the ordinary by the looks of it, probably a street rat wandering the woods, and so all faces quickly turned away as their owners resumed their original activities, intent to keep drinking or talking until the inn closed. Just one pair of eyes remained glued to the figure in tattered clothing. More gulps and the beer disappeared, leaving an empty mug and two silver pieces placed beneath it as Einiel rose from the chair and crossed the inn. “New here?” quizzed the thief, “Prepare that you’ll have to stay for the night, it’s terribly dangerous outside. You look short of coins, though. Say, how about I pay for your room? Come, let’s talk closer to the fire.”
Casting a grin at the beggar-like woman, the red-head nodded towards the table sheltering her loot, motioning for the girl to follow. Pleasant warmth soon started to work its magic as they got closer to the fireplace, a stark contrast to the situation outside. Once seated, Einiel waited for the innkeeper to get the bread and mead; the former hardly looked appetizing, but hungry mouths were never picky. She knew that all too well from personal experience. The flagon with mead, on the other hand, had this powerful, sweet scent. “A friend of mine is supposed to meet me and take his bag.” Einiel revealed, foot gently pushing the sack towards her new partner in crime, “Another thing has come up though and I need to take care of it.” The last gold and several silvers from her pocket clinked on the table.
“Once he comes asking for his bag, you give it to him. He’s an old man, you’ll recognize him easily. If you promise to do that for me, the money’s yours, enough to buy you a shelter for tonight. Sounds good?”
Pippa
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Post by Pippa on Apr 15, 2017 19:28:40 GMT
Pippa sat quietly at the bar, waiting for the man to return with her food and drink. Her shoulders slumped and she let her head hang low over the bar top. Small hands wrung the fabric of her tunic, but she forced them to settle in her lap. She knew that it would be daft to wander back out into the darkness, but what choice was there? Pippa scrunched up her brow; she would stay here until the innkeeper turned her out. Then, perhaps she could find some shelter in a back ally – a place to curl up until morning… assuming she would still be alive by then. She turned at the sound of a voice by her side, and blinked at the sight of a flame-haired woman. As the cloaked woman noted her rather desperate situation, Pippa’s diminutive form seemed to shrink away further. But Pippa looked up again with curiosity at the woman’s offer of coin and shelter. “That’s right kind of you,” Pippa stammered, her eyes shifted towards the empty table. She slipped from the stool and nearly walked off without her meal, if you could call it that. Pippa took up the plate with a single heel of crusty bread in one hand, and the other lifted the stein of spicy mead. As she had a seat across from her mysterious new companion, she did not hesitate to dig in to the bread. Her teeth pulled at the crust, it was almost like trying to eat a stone. It was clear that this bread was more than a few days old now, but at least it would put her hunger at ease. Pippa nodded quickly to signal that she was listening, her dark eyes flickered up to the other woman’s face a few times as she took a drink of mead. “Ah,” She sighed contentedly, “That’s all I have to do, is it?” Pippa just had to give this bag to an old man? Well, that was easy. As far as she was concerned, her warm room for the night would be earned for nothing. But truly, few things in life were ever free. “Leave it to me, miss. I’ll see that it’s done.”She gulped down another long sip; her eyes followed the shining coins as they fell onto the wooden table before her. Pippa was so entranced by the coins that she did not even notice when the woman slipped away to take care of her other business. Dark eyes stared intently, until the door of the tavern swung open. Sitting up in her chair, she craned her neck to see. A man with graying hair stepped in, her eyes immediately lit up. He turned in her direction, spotting the bag at her feet. This must be him. However, two men entered behind him, their eyes also set on Pippa. Before she could even make a sound, the first man had grabbed her up from the table. The other two searched the bag and nodded to their leader. “I-I’m supposed to turn this bag over to someone,” Pippa blurted out. The man merely shook his head. “Come along, little thief. Be spending the night in the dungeon, you will. That’ll set you straight.” Pippa’s eyes grew wide, but she hadn’t the strength to protest. And before all of the eyes in the tavern, the beggar-girl was pulled away against her will... Einiel
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Post by Einiel on Apr 17, 2017 20:29:46 GMT
Relief washed over the young elf when the girl accepted – and while there was no guarantee the poor thing wouldn’t just take the money and flee, it meant the red-haired thief could rest easy for a while, rid of the ill-gotten loot and valuables. Just as quickly as she appeared, Einiel was gone, leaving the inn’s sheltering warmth behind and stepping into the stormy night, finding solace in its shadows. There, an anonymous shape tucked in one of the infinite dark corners in Blackdale, she waited, partially shielded from the rain by picking a nice spot under the brim. The last bits of warmth from the fireplace were quick to depart her body, and so the thin figure shivered, hoping the wait would be over soon. Torrents of water continued to whip the already soaked ground, birthing even more puddles in the streets. Such obstacles would make tailing others particularly challenging – one wrong step and a loud splash would alert anyone she wished to follow.Sure enough, a three man patrol soon barged into the inn, not staying for long. Grabbing both the suspected thief and the bag, they strolled into the terrible weather again, dragging their prize away. From her hiding spot, just behind the corner, hidden beneath the hood and bathed in shadows, two perceptive emeralds observed. Glancing towards the inn’s roof, Einiel dared to brave the downpipe. Light and not carrying anything heavy, the young elf managed to crawl her way up the wet metal spout, using any and all fixtures holding the pipe together to support her footing. Once her thin, athletic body finally crouched atop the wet, slippery roof, she carefully peeked down. No sign of the militia and their prisoner, prompting the elf to hop onto another roof. Fortunately enough, the task wasn’t as difficult as it had seemed before – ultimately, it was about balance and extreme care. Rewarded with a nice vantage point, Einiel stared down below, spying on the struggling lights of torches as they desperately tried to stay alive in such hopeless conditions.
Shadows flickered near one such stationary source of illumination. Voices and grumbling, too, discussing whether or not throw the thief to the werewolves outside the gates. Greed had many forms and these militias certainly weren’t immune to it, struggling to survive themselves. A bag full of silver tempted the fingers holding it, enough to start a conversation concerning the exact number of stolen goods. Nobody wanted to be on duty tonight and some paths were easier to take than others. Reaching agreement, the three broke from their original plan and opened the bag, grabbing smaller, more numerous items and dividing those among themselves. No witness aside from the thief, but she wouldn’t be any trouble after interrogation and getting tossed outside.
Careful to not slip, Einiel climbed onto the ledge of adjacent building. While the three guards stood, inspecting the loot and picking their reward, she was free to close the distance a bit more – but not before taking advantage of the fact someone did not lock their window. Getting in and out lasted less than a minute and made Einiel one silver ring richer. Upon stepping back into the downpour, a dark shadow upon the night’s sky, she followed the guards as they continued to drag their poor captive, coming to what appeared an ordinary, if somewhat shabby house. Blackdale did not have any cells; damp, dark basements served just as well. Three knocks on the door, a short pause, another knock, the door opened, revealing a familiar face standing in the light. Einiel sneered. The captain of the militia, generally known as the One Eyed Captain among the population. Supposedly one of the few people with actual military experience.
A greedy bastard nevertheless.
“Not even a local? Nobody will miss you, then. Toss her down the cellar, boys! I'll interrogate her later.”
The cellar in question had no windows, possibly also the reason little to no water ran over the floor, albeit dark stains of mold could be seen dotting the walls. Only for a brief moment – as the girl landed in, next to an old man who appeared to be badly beaten, the door above shut closed, providing pitch black darkness. Rats scurried about, none too happy about having to share their home with more beings.
Pippa
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Post by Pippa on Apr 23, 2017 3:12:19 GMT
With a militia man’s arm hooked securely around her, Pippa was whisked back out into the wretched weather. She was outmatched in number and strength; there was little point in trying to struggle. And so, she allowed the man to move her along, feet dragging in the mud. Still, that did not mean she would not be keen to look for an opportunity to escape her captors, should such a lucky chance present itself. But Pippa had to wonder, would she even stand a better chance on her own? A troubling thought indeed. The sky above was still dark and ominous, the moon hidden by stormy black clouds. Her clothing had barely a chance to dry by the fire, but any wish for warmth flew far from her mind as she was pelted with rain. Brown eyes narrowed to guard against the cold, and the city of Blacksdale became nothing more than a blur. However, the men brought Pippa to a halt much sooner than she had anticipated. Tucked away in a small alley, they paused to converse. Pippa strained to hear over the sound of the rain and the distant thunder, but she was fairly certain that she had heard one of them jest about throwing her to the hungry wolves. At least, she hoped that it was merely a jest. Nevertheless, the three men enjoyed a rather raucous round of laughter at Pippa’s expense. Shoved up against the wall of a building, Pippa watched as the three milita men had a peek inside the bag that she had been entrusted with. She had to admit, she was curious… Perhaps it had been a bit foolish to accept it from the cloaked figure in the tavern, but she had been so tempted by the thought of a warm room for the night. Of course, she could have spoken up about the mysterious woman she’d encountered, the thought had crossed Pippa’s mind. But she knew that she would stand little chance against these men, their word certainly meant much more than hers. After all, she was but a lowly orphan girl. There was no one to miss her. Each man took a turn dipping his hand into the bag, and she saw glints of silver in the dim light. Pippa said nothing as the small trinkets disappeared into their pockets. But she did shake her head in a disapproving way – and they had called her a thief! And a moment later, they were back on the move. Pippa was dragged roughly towards a dark door, where they knocked and were soon greeted. Then, the beggar was given a harsh shove, and her ragged form went tumbling down the small flight of stairs. She landed at the bottom in a crumpled heap. Pippa gingerly lifted her head, and then slowly sat up. Just as the door began to close, she spotted the outline of an elderly man. But then, the room went pitch black. Pippa’s small hands reached out blindly, but she felt the man’s rough hand and she gave it a squeeze. His skin was cool to the touch, and he barely stirred at Pippa’s touch. From what she could tell, he was in bad shape – perhaps barely breathing now. Her shoulders tensed at the tiny scratching sound made by rats. She shook the man’s shoulder gently. “Are you alright, sir?” She asked. And then Pippa was hit with a sudden realization. Perhaps this was the old man that had been supposed to come and collect the goods. Her brow furrowed in thought. Did he have some kind of connection with that woman from the tavern? It was possible, the puzzle pieces were right at her fingertips. Einiel
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