Map Clegg's Holdings
- C11 Arena – Zinchers Gladiators Arena DC5
- C1 Barracks – Low Key housing for Clegg's street caps DC15
- C5 Dock – Zincher's own Pier and Dock DC15
- C7 Blood and Coin Gambling Hall & Fighting Ring - DC10
- C21 Fortress – Zincher's Tenement Stronghold ground floor / Zinchers residence 1st floor DC5
- C9 Gatehouse – Off Zinchers Arena protecting Zinchers private entrance DC15
- C12 Tavern called the Murdered Church DC15
- C13 Vomitorium – Shanty merchants passage from Zinchers Arena DC15
You spend a good day out and about on the sly trying to dig up as much information as you can about Clegg's operations. It was a successful day, the information gained and none the wiser about the motive.
"Pay an extra fee, it means." Ethaniel grunts. "Not cheap, but I'd sooner cross now than mill about to save a few coins." He reaches up to take hold of the rope. "Agreed?"
Go ahead.
@Ethaniel & Marcus
You ring the bell and after a moment or so, a bark issues from the shack. You hear the sounds of pots and pans falling over and a grumble mumble of an old voice calls forth, "Right o, on me way, a moment to make myself perty." The door slaps open and the shabbily dressed half awake ferry master stumbles into the day light. His eyes strain against the light and when finally they adjust, he spots you and walks up, "Double fee for waking me up as usual lads, same for all." His hand shoots out awaiting placement of the fee. His equally aged 'puppy' walks arthritic-ally out onto the ferry, obviously as practiced at the process as his owner.
Marcus keeps a very tight hold on Apollo. The dog was well trained and a fine specimen (and it should be considering how much he'd paid for him) but he was only a recent purchase and so Marcus was not quite ready to let him walk alone yet.
Heel boy.
Iscarel steps out onto the cobbles, eyes catching the pale lamplight, daggers in his belt. His eyes hover over the shadow in the sky, as he checks his daggers in their sheaths and begins to stroll idly up the street, chatting jovially with his companions. "I expect the abbesses will be missing us, hm?" he says to Ethaniel, with a sly nod. "It's been nearly a week since our last visit." he adds, grinning nastily.
"Perhaps we'll see that infernal scowl wiped off of Marcus' face. Now that will be a sight to see." he says, gliding up the temple steps. Iscarel lets the smell of incense, wine and shame wash over him as he lopes over to the high-priestess and kisses her hard on the mouth in greeting. "Ah, Shorafa, oio naa elealla alasse', cormamin lindua ele lle."
She leans in closer to whisper in Iscarel's ear.
The elf motions towards several velvet couches in a dimly lit corner, holding out his arm for Shorafa and leading the procession onward. "Yes, I do hope to take up my old lodgings once again when I resolve my... financial predicament." he says, airily. "But pleasure, I'm afraid, will have to wait." he says, lowering into his seat and settling between two young tiefling girls. "Send for a pitcher of wine, will you?" he says to Tippy, as he turns towards the abbess again.
Iscarel's voice quickens, and with hushed tones, he continues. "I wish to strike against my enemy, before he strikes us back in kind. We have a blood debt to repay, and pray that the Lady in the Room will grant us the sweet sting of vengeance."
He pauses, leaning in close, with a grim shadow casting over his face. "You know of whom I speak, no? The man who slighted me so many years past... I will name him in the sacred rite, but first I was ask your aid, my dear woman. If you would give it."
"He'll move against us soon, and me and my... associates share a vested interest in not having our throats cut" He meets his companions eyes with a hint of panic in his expression. "You have information, and you wish to line your coffers. I would know when." and his voice lowers once again to a whisper, and Iscarel prays she can't hear the desperation in his voice.
What annoyed him was a place that traded in flesh could also act as something actually divine. It disturbed his sensibilities. Yet here he was, so whatever interests he and the.sting may share would have to remain focused on his vengeance. He stands rigid amd scowling as usual, ignoring the lovely women attempting to lure him to the couches. A stern look from the fearsome looking man is sufficient to keep them at bay.
"Now now, my dear. You know full well that I'm immune to your charms." he says, all evidence to the contrary.
Tam had arrived in Riddleport.
He was suitably unimpressed.
No wonder his father had avoided this hive. The only building that caught his eye was perhaps the Golden Goblin Gaming Hall with its amusing an garish centerpiece. The rest was a dive of scum and debauchery full of cut-throats, pirates, likely slavers, and ever other from of two and multiple-legged vermin that slunk and schemed from the shadows. Most with no potential for better nor the wit to realize they were kings of a dung pile.
... a fitting place for the damned like him. As good as any other place to die. At least here if the coming confrontation with the.. 'other' went bad for him no one "innocent" would be at risk due to his weakness. Tam only prayed he had the strength to end it before it got that far.
The tall forlorn elf walked the streets staying clear of the alley and shadowed eaves with the professional eye of one accustomed to walking the shadows. He was clad in a mail shirt of fine darkened steel over his peasant's rags. His daggers and rapier at his side the concealed daggers safely hidden form sight. None of his gear was of elven make and all of it was girt and travel grime stained from the long journey. The only things that showed any attempt was made to be kept free from dirt and grim a Silver holy Symbol of a Butterfly with lavender enameled wings and a Starknife in a holster at his waist.
The ...'other' had been silent all day but the evening was drawing in and soon Tam was sure it would stir. It seemed to like to taunt him in the dark hours speaking into his mind twisted and cruel things. It was getting stronger... soon it would end... one way or another. Perhaps tonight... perhaps tomorrow?
Tam needed to know if the evil was in him... or from some other source. He had avoided most of the places he and his father had... fleeced his face... his father's was too well-known at any of the major cities Tam was familiar with. Cursed by cruel fate to be the spitting image of his mad and black-hearted father... only in the dregs of society... like here in Riddleport could Tam find any solace from the reputation of his father. Or even some help...
But a false solace it was indeed... evil had his scent and it followed him closely seeking his soul or whatever it was that elves had for a spirit.
Tam walked the town and of course ... the only Temple would be a brothel to the 'Savored Sting'... how fitting that he would need the help of the whore goddess' faithful in this last place of escape. But he owed it to Liara to at least try. Temples to DESNA were not going to be easy to find in the only places left open to him with the reputation of his father haunting his every step.
Tam walked toward the brothel at the edge of town dreading and shamed to need such a source of help.
He pulled his cloak and hood tightly about him his face concealed somewhat by his travel scarf but his eerie vibrant violet eyes peered forth with whips of his now platinum blond hair peeking out of the hood.
As he approached he noticed two already at the doors talking to a woman in high fashion... at least for a brothel. A grim looking sour-expression human male with a mean looking dog at his heels and ... an elf.
Tam walked up but not wanting to pry kept a respectful 15 foot distance and awaited his turn to speak with one of the... faithful when they took notice of him.
I do not like this aspect of your goddess. The combination of Bordello and Church is...unsettleing to me. How does one.focus on worship when surrounded by such distraction. Not trying to be disrespectful, more trying to understand.
He notes the arrival of the new elf. A shifty looking character, certainly not out of place here, but given the days they'd had, Marcus was seeing enemies everywhere. He keeps on hand on his scimitar.
You want something? Plenty of other women about. This ones busy.
Tam's eyes narrow as he gazes at the human ... not in anger just in assessing his threat level... His shoulders loosen but his stance tenses up as if in a moment prepared to explode into action...
{He seems annoyed not at me but at being here.. That I can understand... hands not near weapons feet not tensing.. he is not preparing to strike...}
The elf's hard gaze softens slightly and his tence stance relaxes in a flicker of seconds assessing that no overt threat is inferred.
He speaks his voice soft, sure but an under-curent of unnervingly, deadly, menace hard to place is in his voice... though his tone is not threatening, "I'm not interested in partaking in the lewd pass-times of this House of Debuc~... er Prostitutes. I'm in need of a cleric... anyone will do as long as they will deal honestly. This is the only temple in town as far as I know."
He bows slightly to the woman but never takes his eyes off the human warrior or his dog, "I mean no insult to the 'Savored Sting'... but here would not be my first choice - my heart belongs to another even though she sleeps in death. But my soul is hunted by a nameless evil and I have need of wisdom divine. I'll step further away if you wish... I have no interest in prying into your private affairs - but I saw the lady cast a spell if she is not a cleric of the 'Sultry Schemer', she may be able to point to one who is."
Whithout hesitation, likely because this elf seemed more akin to the good friends he'd lost in his village, Marcus speaks, The silver tongue has business with the priestess, but my friend here carries Calistra's whip and her favor. Ethaniel, feel like giving council today?
@Ethaniel
In that case...
"Why...certainly." Ethaniel peers curiously at the newcomer. "I am not employed here. That is to say, I receive no coin for the time I spend here. I am a student of Calistria's mysteries, and while I can attest that the abbesses here are happy to talk...theology, they do so at the usual rate." The half-elf coughs. "They care not what you seek, they'll take the same payment for the time and energy they give."
Ethaniel sits on a cushioned bench. "You mean no insult to the Savored Sting, you say. That is good, for she does not take kindly to insults...something Marcus here should learn." His eyes drift towards his companion, then away again. "The both of you should know that the pursuit of lust is but a sliver of what my Lady is concerned with. At the core, to be devoted to her is to understand personal freedom. And personal justice. Are you in need of such lessons?"
"I don't think I've once seen my good friend over here crack a smile. If your girls can't get him to loosen up I don't know what can..." he says, laying seven silver pieces down on the table .
He picks himself up and traipses towards the elf talking among them. "A! 'lle an Tel'Quessir! Mae'govannen, nosse." he says, arms outstretched. He grabs him by the shoulders and smiles warmly. "Elen sila lumenn omentilmo..." he says, pausing. "Hmm... I must say you look terribly familiar." he says, before glancing towards Ethaniel.
"Oh, I'm interrupting, forgive me." he says, bowing his head apologetically. He lowers his voice. "You're in luck, my friend. I think Lavender is working tonight."
Shorafa smiles at Iscarel's reply, turns to look at Marcus. "As you wish." She stands a approaches Marcus who is currently in conversation with others. She focuses intently on the human and casts a spell. Marcus turns to face her as the last words are spoken. She then leans in and speaks clearly. "I have many girls here who require your attention. Please do as each of them request of you." Iscarel, whispers in the ear of one of the available girls who then goes to Marcus, whispers in his ear, grabs his hand and awaits his response.
Tam regards the half-elf narrowly not unkindly just intensely.
"I... am Tam. I am not a worshiper of 'The Savored Sting'... I purse not lust... for I have found its superior in love... but she is no more.
Freedom, personal justice...? Well, one does not always get what one wants... or needs no matter how one might rage for it; but I'll be satisfied today with a simple spell cast on my behalf."
He gestures to the daggers at his waist, "Personal Justice may have to wait for another day... or let fate be what it will and someone other than I finally give justice for the innocently slain; but at least if need demands my blades will grant me a bitter Freedom from this world in death if what you tell me deems it the better - cleaner end."
"I need a simple spell cast upon me... at the midnight hour and you to tell me the results truthfully ere I decide ... what fate shall be."
"There is a curse of evil upon me... and I must know if there is any hope I may yet forestall its victory over my will."
The elf is severe and his voice coldly emotionless as he infers his intent to end his life... as if living with what ever truth he is seeking would be worse than utter oblivion.
Tam is shocked at the approach of the 'silver tongued one' he assess the elf's stance and mannerism and though startled to be embraced by a complete stranger knows there is no malicious intent... though his eyes dart about taking in every detail warily. Tam is not one to be taken unawares... his eyes following the scurrying halfling noticing the furtive gait of a rogue and the flash of facial anger at the elf embracing him from the little cut-throat for his hands also flex in a desire for familiar blades for a moment, the human's hand still on the pommel of his scimitar and the whip in Ethaniel's belt not out of reach but by his repose and set of his shoulders Tam knows the hallmarks of a trained Cleric/Fighter's demeanor - realizing Ethaniel could draw, move and attack with his whip at ease. Tam's eyes flashed instantly to the various locations where Tam would stand to take advantage of the whip's reach. Involuntarily in reaction to the 'silver tongues' approach Tam's hands flex ready to receive the hilts of his daggers in their spring loaded wrist sheath with but a gesture...
All this happens in a flicker of a second... but he refrains from his kill reflexes ... discerning no threat is meant... this time.
Tam raises his hand to his face scarf and pulls it down revealing his full features - platinum blonde hair, eerie and vibrant violet eyes and a curious dusky completion upon his handsome features... as if he spent long days in the heat of the sun.
He replies softly in a odd dialect of elvish... old and archaic but still understandable...
"Aey ilma selaanilnal maanymlam aco. E ils lean eo anira tyaetyca. Sa oilaniramla tyaetyca laelam ocaw anira amemcw el anira oemlaan wilmnlalala, illw ean laanilcnla yla laanecc."
But his gaze narrows in... hot anger{?} at 'Silver Tongue's' comment of Tam seeming familiar.
His reply is swift and fiery in its intensity, "You may be thinking of my father Tiam... called 'Darque-Stryder', in his twisted sense of irony! He and I are NOT the same... his heart is black and his deeds of cruelty, larceny, betrayal and murder haunt my every step for we are alike only in appearance... yet another burden he has placed upon my shoulders!!"
[OOC: Hmm... Faerunian Elvish.. interesting. :)]
History:
Local
Sweat beads off Marcus's brow as he tries and fails to resist the enchantment. He goes with the girl with the movement of a man not in control. He manages to look at Iscarel as he leaves and his eyes promise murder.
Uncoiling his whip with a mere flick of his wrist, Ethaniel tries to pull his ranger friend's feet from under him.
Trip (Whip) vs. Marcus's CMD -
@Ethaniel
Iscarel gives the smile of a man entirely too pleased with himself as the women approach Marcus. "I do hope he enjoys himself." the elf says, sincerely, giving Marcus a coy wave and meeting Marcus' eyes, perplexed. "My, my, he doesn't seem pleased. I don't think I'll ever understand that man. Perhaps he prefers his women from the kenne-"
Iscarel is cut off by the ear-splitting crack of the whip. Iscarel's head whips around, angrily, a look of utter confusion on his face as he looks at Ethaniel. His glances edgily around the room under the gaze of the temple and it's patrons. His ears twitch. He knows where the steel is kept for the rowdier customers. "Lye sii'yassene nier eska." he says, slowly. "Mankoi? Mankoi lle uma tanya?" he says, in a hurried whisper. He says, helping one of the girls to her feet. "I am sorry. By the goddess, I cannot bring them anywhere..." he mutters, apologetically, once satisfied she's not hurt.
Sense Motive
I tire of your games. Keep playing them, and we'll see if that knife you play with cuts your thoat as well as your nails. We're in the house of the deity of vengeance, do you honestly thinkshe'd begrude me killing a man who would take my very will from me for the sake of a f#¢king joke?
Marcus gets up, seeming quite a bit larger than usual. He knows where he is though and does not attack the man.
He looks at the priestess, (speaking elvish)
Bows and walks out.
He switches to common as he passes the new elf, Tam. You may trust Ethaniel's word. The other? Were I not in a church, I would spit.
Tippy looks about at the bigger folk, quite bewildered by all the goings-on. He blends into the background as things look like they might get a bit heated.
Stealth:
Iscarel grabs Marcus by the arm, whispering harshly. "Remember where you are, you foolish child. The abbesses will not take kindly to their hospitality being so rudely cast aside. I may be willing to bear your threats over imagined slights, but do not think Pamodae will. i'Amada huan tanya ngawaw nier eska ta anaistuva. You will do poorly in the faith, ranger. You cannot stray from your leash without making enemies." he says, releasing his grip from Marcus and pulling away, angrily.
"Apologies, my friends. We'll not trouble your halls further tonight." he says, making for the door.
He'll drape a hand around Tam's shoulder. "Of the people or not, I'd delight in the company of elf-kind once more. If you can endure the smell of dog, the crude language and the nightly death-threats over imagined slights, Marcus is... palatable." he says, leading the bewildered Elf to the door. "I am sure Ethaniel will give you what you seek."
Ethaniel recoils his whip the moment it is free from Marcus's legs. He has no words for Iscarel, but hands five gold to the woman who was attempting to seduce Marcus. "For your time."
He follows the others out.
Keep your opinion rivvel*. Your diety chose ME not the other way around. I never asked her to...
He finishes his turn away. Already out the door before the elf can speak again.
Damn that smug #%$! I'll talk to Ethaniel about the dream long before that swine hears a kind word from me. Gods, why does he have to remind me so much of that sorcer... Ahhh, getbover it Marcus. He may be a snake but he's not him. And Iscaria is not your...
And the voice returns....
It hits Marcus like a thunderclap, bringing the man to his knees upon the steps of the Church and once again in a second he feels every ounce of emotional pain at the.loss of all he knew, but rather than despair it gave him strength. He opens his eyes again, his past again buried, his clarity restored. He looks to the city before him with the eyes of a hunter.
Ethaniel....as soon as we can, lets visit the lodge.... Iscarel can come to if he's game....meet you back at the Goblin.... I've gotta go buy a new dog.
Tam takes in the interactions of those at the temple mostly trying make himself understood by the priest Ethaniel when the hairs on his neck stand up as magic is thrown around. Tam backs away a few steps from the bickering...
The 'other' had returned woken by strife and anger speaking again vilness in his mind.
{SHUT UP Unholy thing!!! Go back the oblivion of the darkness that spawned your filth!}
Tam reeled momentarily placing his back tot a wall and taking a defensive stance...
With an effort Tam pushed the dark voice away to a cold corner of his mind... he looked at the situation around him 'Marcus' was standing up and furious at the elf Iscarel and Ethaniel was recoiling his whip...
Tam found his daggers were in his hands... {When did I draw my blades? 'It' made me do it again... tricking my reflexes... this must end ... soon... or I'll loose myself... forever...}
Quickly Tam resheathed his daggers before anyone hopefully noticed... hearing the latter part of 'Marcus' warning, 'begrude me killing a man who would take my very will from me for the sake of a f#¢king joke?'
Iscarel asked him something about the forlorn Tam was sure but he could not recall what it was.
Marcus still fuming in rage stalked passed him... a mood Tam could not begrudge him. Having one's will...or soul turned to deeds you are violently opposed too was something Tam could poignantly relate too... innocent jest or not.
Marcus' words do bring the priests words back to him with some relief, {Thats right ... Ethianel said he would help... and did not mention payment... perhaps I'm in luck with that little bit... at least Until I learn what he discovers with his spell... A last meal would be nice... before what ever will be will be.}
Tam mutters, "I should leave here now as well, I do not 'court' trouble... I have more than enough already... and DESNA favors those of more forgiving hearts..."
Tam bows to the abbesses politely as Iscarel strides up to him... {Again with the touching...? Are all 'Returner' elves so... in one's face? Have they no sense of personal space or wariness? He has no idea who I am.. a perfect stranger! I could be any sociopath with a knife. They are too trusting... they never would have survived Earthfall and the dark days father speaks of...}
Tam seems a little uncomfortable... but he replies, "Very well.. I've had enough excitement for the evening."
And from the dark cold reaches of his mind,