This is a pbp for Shackled City.
Posting.
This is Demon.
~998 YK
We start our tale in the Blackcap Mountains, to the north of Breland, where you have lived for the last three years. Your mother was lost when Cyre fell in 994. It was a year later that you discovered you had a younger sister...Corrine. A half-breed, she was in an orphanage in the city of Cauldron, in the Blackcap mountains. You moved there to care for her.
The fact that the Bastille of Bel Shalor is supposed to lie beneath the Blackcaps, once part of ancient Thrane, was the happiest of coincidences.
You have just received a package from a Koranberg scholar living in Sigilstar, Thrane, and have unpacked it on your table, awaiting your little sister, Corrine's return from school.
Inside was an ancient monocle, with a dark lens and white edging. You had requested a copy of a paper that suggested a different translation of the founding of the Church of the Silver Flame. Needless to say, this item was a surprise to you.
Ivan dons a pair of black leather gloves and examines the monocle carefully, first simply studying it where it lies without picking it up, then lifting it gingerly with two fingers to survey its entire surface.
The monocle appears to be made of a sliver of a Khyber gem, deep blue with oily dark lines under the surface, wrapped in a soft-white material, almost like bone.
Having examined the strange monocle, Ivan wracks his brain for the significance of a Khyber gem embedded in bone-like material.
"Hm. So the question, my unexpected friend," Ivan muses to himself, "must be, What is it that you reveal?"
He hesitates briefly, glancing about one last time for a note or instructions that he may have missed. Then, steeling himself, he raises the monocle a little ways in front of his face and looks through it.
As you peer through the monocle, time seems to slow, as your heart beats faster with excitement. The oily lines inside shimmer with movement as light moves through them.
Suddenly, the front door bursts open behind you, startling you. You drop the monocle onto its cloth wrapping on the table.
Ivan turns, irritated at being interrupted and for the momentary icy rush of fear at the unexpected noise, preparing to chastise Corrine for bursting in so noisily.
You see Corrine's heels as she scurries up the stairs next to the front door, which is slowly swinging shut after hitting the plaster wall opposite.
"Corrine! Come back down here, please!"
While he does use the word "please", Ivan's voice is anything but plaintive.
You hear the sounds of several more sets of footsteps run up to the doorway of your flat, and up the stairs after Corrine.
Ivan's eyes narrow.
"What in Khyber . . . "
He pushes his chair away from his desk and stands, hurrying to the stairs to see who else is in his house.
The sound of scuffling comes from upstairs, and then Corrine's frightened voice. "Put me down!"
The fear Ivan felt a moment ago rushes back.
"Whoever you are, leave her alone!"
You turn to grab your sword cane from its place by the entryway, and run into a burly man in sweat-stained cheap clothes as he charges through the front door. Both of you retain your feet, and you barely duck out of the way as he swings his meaty fist at you. He now stands in the way of you and your sword-cane, which lies against the wall behind him and to his left.
Another man, skinnier, with a long neck and an overly large Adams apple, comes huffing up the steps behind the burly man, a dagger in his hand. "Oo's 'is, then?"
Ivan takes a step back from the door, eyeing the men, and that dagger in particular.
"'Who's this?'" he echoes, trying to keep his voice firm.
"This is the owner of the house that you louts have so brazenly burst into! I don't know who you think you are, or who you think my sister is, but there's clearly been some misunderstanding."
His hand drifts downward, headed for the purse on his belt.
"But I think an understanding can be reached. You can count gold if I give it to you, can't you?"
"Oh 'e's some rich prig elf come ta lord over us, 'e is," the burly man spits. He shoves your chest, forcing you back a step.
"'Oo cares 'bout some damned elf," the skinny man bellows, squeezing by the burly man and running up the stairs. "Get th' girl!"
"What? No! Don't get the girl! And you--" he snarls, giving the burly man an icy glare, "Don't even think about making another move!"
He whirls to follow the scrawny man up the stairs, reaching past the big man for his sword cane as he does so.
You dart past the burly man, grabbing your sword-cane from its place by the doorway, and hurry up the stairs, unsheathing the sword.
As you arrive at the top of the stairs, your stomach slides into your shoes. Corrine is hanging in a bear hug from a long-haired man covered in tattoos, struggling to free herself. "Ivan! Help!" she screams, kicking her legs out and clocking an ugly woman in the face in front of her. "You dirty lil' whelp!"
The skinny man turns and slashes at you, his pocked blade whistling inches from your nose.
As you regain your footing from dodging the dagger aimed at your face, the burly man thuds up the stairs behind you. You bring your sword-cane around to bear as he slams into you, knocking you to the floor in front of the skinny man. He lies atop you, pinning you to the floor.
"Damn it, you lout, get off me! And you," Ivan seethes, glowering at the tattooed man as best he can from underneath the big oaf, "Get your hands off my sister! Leave her alone!"
He shoves against the incredible bulk entrapping him, and manages to push the big man away and get back to his feet.
The body of the burly man slumps to the ground, your sword-cane stuck in its belly, blood sliding out of it. Its warm, too warm, and smells of copper. Your fingers feel slippery. A loud buzzing rings in your ears as you stare at the sweat stains on the mans shirt, as they are overrun with crimson. You can't look in his eyes.
"The lil' brat kicked me!" the ugly woman yells, removing her hand from her mouth. It is covered in blood. Your not sure if she was missing those teeth in her mouth before Corrine kicked her.
The skinny man backs away from the blood on the ground. "Let's get 'er out 'o 'ere!"
A large body steps purposefully over you, its legs black and hard. With a snap and a sharp yell, the skinny man's dagger clatters to the ground, followed by the man, his elbow bent back in an awkward direction, his throat crushed in.
With an loud explosion, flames and debris fly away from the far wall. The floor tips away from you, causing you to stumble forward as you stand.
Ears ringing from the explosion, Ivan shakes his head and looks about for the ruffians and Corrine.
Thick dust hangs in the air, making you cough. The floor slants towards the street precariously. A tall, black warforged stands in front of you, towering over the body of the skinny man. He is accented in red and purple.
Where Corrine was struggling with the thugs, a gaping hole now exists in the wall, wind blowing still dripping water from last nights rain into your room from the rain gutters on your roof. The dust gusts in eddies that make a beautiful counterpoint to the cold fear overwhelming you.
The normally bustling sounds of the city outside are alarmingly quite.
Demon grabs the man behind him by his throat, slamming him against the wall. "Who are you?"
"Corrine?"
Ivan stares at the smoking hole in his sister's wall, his mind reeling in shock. He staggers to the edge, barely registering his newest guest, and slumps against the edge of the hole to scan the street below frantically.
"Corrine!"
"What are you doing here, Corrine?!" Demon yells, slamming you into the wall again.
The impact rattles Ivan's teeth, forcing him to focus on the warforged pinning him to the wall.
"What? What am I . . ."
Ivan shakes his head, trying to process what the metal man is saying.
"Khyber below, what are you talking about?! Let go of me, dammit, I have to go after them!"
He clumsily swings his fist at the side of the construct's head, desperately trying to free himself.
Demon knocks your fist aside, and tries to wrench your wrist behind your back. "That's the last little girl you kidnap, Corrine, you deviant fu-"
In your desperation, you yank your wrist out of his fingers. "By the Six, hold still!"
Ivan stops struggling and stares at the 'forged.
"'The last girl I kidnap'? You think I'm with them? You idiot. You imbecile! This is my house, you metal moron! That was my sister those bastards just took! Her name is Corrine, mine is Ivan Thorne, and you're letting them get away!"
"What?!" Demon yells, keeping his forearm pressed against your throat, his red eyes staring at you, unmoving. He looks around the room, it's sparse furnishings blown about from the explosion.
He lets you go and walks slowly to the open hole in the wall, staring out at the empty street. "Son of a Cyran," he murmurs.
You and Demon stride quickly down Obsidian Avenue, arguing with each other. The streets are busy with people, all of them oblivious to your urgency.
"I don't care what you think! House Kundarak tasked me to find who was taking these kids, and I'm going to tell them." Demon steps to the side as a cart rolls between you two. "I'm not waiting for the illustrious guard to investigate your precious hovel."
Ivan coughs into his elbow, wiping his lips with his sleeve before spitting onto the gutter. Ten minutes wasn't long enough to get the taste of vomit out of his mouth, or the smell of blood out of his nostrils.
Not nearly long enough.
"I don't live in a hovel, I live in a flat, and if you had ears you might have heard me say that I'm coming with you. You know something about what's going on here, and I need to know what you know about the ruffians who took my sister. I'll send word to the Guard from House Kundarak, if it's all the same to you. Or if it's not."
-Posted with Wayfinder
"It is all the same to me. Or not." Demon looks askance at Ivan as they stride on. "You don't look Valenar."
"Because I'm not. I was never the soldiering type."
-Posted with Wayfinder
"No...I mean...your all...well, brainy looking."
Ivan shudders and gives the 'forged an incredulous look before muttering under his breath, "Gods, this isn't happening. The machine in charge of rescuing my sister did not just use the word "brainy" in a sentence."
He pinches at the bridge of his nose and sighs before continuing.
"I'm not sure what you're confused about, Master Daemon. Or was it Devil? The Valenar, as you should know, were originally mercenaries from Aerenal, my homeland. They came here as soldiers, and then announced themselves a sovereign nation. As I just said, I was never the soldiering type. When my cousins who would become the Valenar were cutting their teeth on swords, I was studying my third language. I didn't come to Galifar with them, nor am I part of their clubhouse. Does that answer your question?"
"Not really," he sighs. Light flashes off the crystal protrusions around his body. "Looks like I'm still stuck with you. And I'm not in charge of rescuing your sister. I don't care about her. I care about capturing these kidnappers."
"Oh, of course. My apologies. Heaven help you should you accidentally help someone along the way. But I suppose that's what I should expect from someone who punches first, asks questions later, and uses words like 'brainy'"
Ivan shakes his head again.
"You know, I'm glad your not in charge of rescuing her. You'd probably kill her on suspicion of bring a drug dealer or something."
-Posted with Wayfinder
"I am helping someone. What would you know about it?"