Chapter 1; Northern Downpour
If your story had to start anywhere, it sure as hell better not start with the weather.
Regardless, rain bombarded the cobblestone path in front of you, puddles exploding violently under the heavy-soled leather boots of passers-by. Barely any of them had actual faces, they were just part of the scenery, there was only one recognizable face.
It was always the barkeep. In a cruel twist of irony, the only faces anyone in this drunk and dirty town was their suppliers. This one was Hilgi "The Crone" Callig, dragging a bucket with both her skinny, veiny arms and dumping it's filth into the streets, the wind carrying it's new and unusual smell into your direction.
Hilgi was liked by few, but just as few could say they hated her. Her Inn, The Mist House, was beloved around these parts, receiving a steady stream of patrons and keeping the ale flowing freely. It also stood as a decent middle-ground between Pale Garden's arrogant bouncer and haughty wine selection, and Ol' Boy's tunic-less toilsdays.
The old woman looked to the violet-painted sky and shook her head, muttering something to herself. The moon wasn't visible. It was hidden behind the watercolor clouds that were the norm in Ustalav. Whatever the Crone saw, however, she didn't like it, though she didn't like most things.
What was to like? Another tyrant was on the rise, and he was using this very town as the main stage for his schemes. Ikron III, an overambitious crime-lord who decided to make his manor his palace, and his lounge-chair his throne. Everyone knows that the mayor holds no power here, he was on the floor, under the boot of Ikron. The decrepit countess Solismina fared no better.
Her eyes then fell on you. She was open in her dislike of anything Kellid, save for their money and tendency to drink enough for the rest of the pub. She retreated back. Kellid's never faired exactly well in this street, no matter how well one dressed.
You hear a male's laughter behind you.
Rude, isn't it? Asked a deep, smooth voice with a rumbling purr at the end of the sentence. Turning around, the face didn't quite it. Young, in his twenties, at first glance. Pale skin, choppy black hair, and effeminate features, dressed well in nobleman's clothes. She doesn't even know if you deserve it. To be fair, though, you're hardly open with your self-destruction. He smiled, then claps his hand on your shoulder. You'll be... amusing.
With that, he took one last look into your eyes before leaving you behind.
Doumane sniffed the air and regretted it. Whatever slop that old crone had been throwing out was overdue. Her openly hateful stare didn't help matters.
The druid sighed, and shrugged his cloak around his shoulder. It was hardly new to be dismissed before he even opened his mouth. The strange words of the pale man didn't help matters.
A shiver ran up Doumane's back. Something wasn't quite right tonight, and he felt naked without his ediolons, but if he thought the was attracting attention now, having a lumbering rock elemental besides him....
Ignoring the word's he went off to find the Pale Garden. He was looking for rich backers for a magical school. He doubted the power plays would be hanging around a place like the Mist House, besides he didn't like the curling lip of the crone.
He pushes off down the grimy, wet streets looking for the higher class establishment. Doumane loved the outdoors, but a cold endless rain would wear off even his taste for an open sky.
You come across the Pale Garden First by it's line. A short stretch of nobles and well-to-dos. Most engaged in conversation, but others standing as aloof and exclusive as possible, as if they were too celebrity to even be approached.
The building was a brick layout, vines and ivy hung from the windows in a stylistic statement, at the head of the line, the bouncer appeared to be Kellid, a fact only confirmed by an accent thicker than your own. Don't see too many of your folk around here. He said to you. He assessed you up and down. Tell me, why should I let you in 'ere? 'Aven't heard of you anywhere, before. What do you add to the party, mate?
Doumane doffs his cap appropriately,"We pop up in the weirdest places, don't we?" It was rare he could trade on his Kellid nature, but sometimes it paid off with lower ranking folks.
'As to what I bring to the 'party?' A cunning mind, a bright wit and a taste for the nightlife. Besides, these are the kinds of places men of my station stay at one dark and rainy nights and why we pay wonderful people like you to keep out the undesirables." he pours on the charm as best he can, wishing he had Boria summoned to help him.
He lowers his voice and adds, in Kellid, "I know I am new. If you require a slight....fiscal incentive, I'm not averse to helping a cousin out." he says, honestly enough, touching a coin bag.
The bouncer didn't seem to be amused at that first comment.
He sighs. Go in. He said lowly. You don't have to bribe me, idiot. But if you cause any trouble, when I'm through with you, they won't be able to tell what's you and what's the wine.
The Garden Was candle-lit, the red shades painting the dim space, seeming to enhance what most would already consider 'the Beautiful Elite'. The smell of red wine and rare meat filled the air, and you see more than a few elegant ladies who've had too much to drink.
"It was a tip, sir." Doumane says stiffly. "But I suppose you'll never know." and breezes past the bouncer.
Doumane takes a deep breath, out of the rain and mud. This was more like it, the scents of success and power. Good food, spiced wine and slightly more cleanliness. The smells of people he had to convince.
He eyes the ladies, trying to be unobtrusive. He is here on 'business' and take the lay of the land, but he often can't help himself. He keeps a particular eye out for husband or other concerned males.
He also looks to see if any tables are open, and to take a glance at the wine list. He didn't have an unlimited supply of money, but one had to blend in....He chuckles to himself, imagining what would happen if he summoned Skala here, or better yet, Vatra.
You see one woman, olive-skinned, with a red streak in her black mass of hair, now alone after just fininshing flirting with one of the waiters.
Other than that, you see an empty booth by a portrait of a Goblin falling back holding a bottle of wine bigger than he is.
His eye's light up on the olive-skinned woman. Women who colored their hair tended to be...adventurous. Still, it was utter folly to jump in without even the most basic reconnaissance.
He moves into the empty booth, shaking his head at the odd choice of art. Rich people tended to have strange tastes. maybe that is why he never fit in, not fully...
He attempts to gain the attention of a waiter. "Uh, sir? Do you have a menu or a list of the house wines? I've had a long day and wish to relax in your wonderful Inn.'
Doumane eyes the waiter, judging if he might be a good source of information.
The waiter is a scrawny man whose muttonchops take up most of his face. Of course, sir. He said, dropping a five-page menu os drinks and dished. And for today, we have a freshly killed and roasted forest drake you can have substitute any of your meat dishes for only an additional five Crowns. His accent was refined on the surface, but obviously practiced.
"Aah, excellent, sir." Doumane says, picking up the menu, glacing at it.He goes on, having the waiter still at attention.
"As I said, I am new in town. Do you know the local men and women of quality? I assume they are all frequent visitors of this fine establishment. Just some names would be quite helpful. I have several...commercial ventures in mind, and I wish to associate with the right people, if you udnerstand." he then adds, with a grin and a bit of a wink, 'Also, who is the lady with the red streaked hair? She seems interesting."
He raised his brow. That woman? He asked. Why that's Liviya Rivochev. She owns this fine establishment here. She's very interesting, indeed. She drinks most of our wine, too. She's her own best customer. He hummed. As for commercial ventures, that man over there might be of interest to you. He said, pointing to the very same man who walked up to you earlier today. He hasn't been in Ustalav long, but Liviya keeps talking about all the business gambles he's made and succeeded on in his short time here. He already has a manor here.
"Thank you, sir. You have been most helpful, I will be ordering shortly." Doumane says in a friendly fashion. After the waiter leaves the druid makes his way over to where the pale man is sitting.
Doumane tries to catch his eye. Assuming he doesn't look unfriendly he says, "We keep running into each other. My name is Doumane, and who might you be? I hear you are fairly new the area as well, may I sit with you? I hate drinking alone, doubly so when surrounded by pretty women."
You're very welcome. The waiter said, leaving.
The pale man smiles at you. Doumane. Druid, summoner, and talented adulterer, have a seat. He said. Call me Jesyl. He said.
New here, though it feels at some times that I've been here far too long. The people, though, are entertaining. Morbid, but optimistically so. They know they're in the dark, in between a worldwound and an undead place, so to speak. It's like I'm watching a play, sometimes, don't you think? I'm still determining whether it's comedy or tragedy, though. It could swing either way at this pace."
Doumane eyebrows shoot up, "You...you know me? Are we acquainted? I don't seem to recognize your face."
He searches his memory, wondering if the man is an old jealous student or perhaps a angry husband of some long ago tryst? He doesn't seem to be that violent..yet.
Doumane slides into his seat and goes on, "Didn't a poet once say that 'all the world's a stage and every man a player'? I seem to recall reading that somewhere.".
Doumane is a bit nerved at that this guy's knowledge.
You cannot get a good fix on him, his face remains completely nonchalant and bemused throughout his interactions with you.
I knew your mentor personally. I led a seperate class. He said. We only met in passing through the halls, never exchanging words or so much as second-glances, but I never forget a face. He pointed his finger to an empty glass, then the bottle of red he has been nursing, signaling for you to take a drink. I'm an observer, you see. I watch as things happen to people, and what they do. He points to the olive-skinned woman. Madame Rivochev, for instance, is late on her debts to Ikron III. His men should be here at any moment now, and they aren't the most chivalrous sort. Sad thing, I like this place, I'd hate to see anything happen to it. This bottle of wine is almost as old as you are."
Wise words, wise words. He said. World's a stage, people are actors, where are the stagehands, who's the director, the writer, and when do the curtains close?
Doumane lets out a small sigh of relief. So he was just someone from his past, nothing...stranger. Still..."What are the odds?" Doumane says, "It is a small world isn't it? So, did you know the Professor well?" the druid says, interjecting some friendliness in his voice. "What classes did you teach?"
"Ikron III? the crime lord? Here, right now?" Doumane looks around wildly, as if expecting thugs to erupt from the woodwork. "Should we do something?" he asks in a low voice.His mind flashes to Vatra, his friendly fire elemental. If there was going to be a fight...
The odds are finite, though not out of the ordinary. Jesyl said. Not too well, only a few dinners with his then wife. For some reason, that just stopped happening all of the sudden. He hummed. I taught cultural studies and history. Mostly Chelaxian,, Andoran, and Galt. Galt especially. They do have a wonderful course of events flowing. So tragic, it makes the heart flutter. So much fine art could arise from their situation if only it didn't so often lead to beheadings and book burnings.
His men. The Jesyl said, colorless lips curling further into a smile. I don't know, should you? Then he leaned forward, eyes on the door.
And almost on cue, two burly men barge in with great fanfare and fixate their eyes on Liviya. Her once cheery dispositioned soured, then the men's voices were raised. It wouldn't be too much of a gamble to suppose that things weren't just going to get better.
Jesyl then leaned back, eyes towards you. Do try not to cause lasting damage. I've invested quite a few crowns on this place.
Doumane is a bit confused at Jesyl. He had never cared for history, skipping most of the classes but he was surprised he didn't remember the pale man. He too had a decent memory.
But he had no time to think on that now, when two burly men enter into the Inn. The druid pondered what to do. His first instinct was to stay put, or even better, run away. It would be safer, and certainly easier.
But it would not suit his goals. He needed the noble and rich on his side, and crime lords would never help fund his university. Maybe saving a rich local business owner would give him the notoriety he needed.
Also, could he let a good looking woman be assaulted like this? Surely he could find a way to resolve this. He could probably out think two local thugs. And if not..Vatra was an option.
Doumane stands up and strolls over toward Liviya. He grins a bit at her confusion and says, toward the two burly men, "What seems to be the problem here gents? What's say we forget all this and get a round of drinks, on me?"
Liviya's eyes widen at Doumane. She makes a look on her face that says, basically, Not now.
The problem is this 'li'l wench hasn't been up to payments, and we got to take it out of the store, in a very destructive way, aye. He said, pulling a mace from his side and slamming it against the counter, leaving a large dent, a bigger crash, and silencing most of the crowd. What's it to you, fancy man?
I don't like the look 'o 'im. The other said. Looks like he might try something.
Doumane is thrown by the look on Liviya's face. Maybe this was something she expected, some local ritual? You could fit everything the druid knew about the underworld in a thimble. Still, this didn't seem right...but that mace looked very heavy.
"Just a concerned citizen, good man." Doumane says to the mace wielding thug. "I don't like seeing men pick on pretty ladies." he adds, with a gallant flippancy that he will probably soon regret.
"And who might you be?". Still, the druid takes a step back, out of mace range and has Vatra ready to summon in front of him. The fire elemental will love these guys...
He does a quick scan seeing just how violent these types are. Are they likely to kill him just for speaking up?
The thugs appear to be asking for a fight, but they also have a lazy, not-quite-bright look to them.
At the moment Doumaine said pretty ladies Liviya's eyes rolled dramatically.
We pick on who we want, aye. Said one of the thugs.
Including scrawny little men like you.
We're humble servants of our master, the Grand Ikron the Third, serving him loyally on his righteous crusade to better Ustalav, one tavern at a time. One of the thugs said with a few exagerated gestures, which caused Liviya to roll her eyes once more.
Doumane puts on a sad, somewhat concerned face. ”Ah, a righteous man. I am sorry I interfered. Gods know Ustalav needs all the righteous men it can get.” Doumane nods knowingly.
”I am very interested actually. I am a historian, and have written a number of books on the subject of such great and wise men, much like your Grand Ikron the Third. With such servants as yourself, he must be wise. I'd love to add him in my future books, would you mind telling me anything about him?”
Douman prattles on, wondering how the hells he would defuse this situation with so little information. Well, if he failed, he always had Vatra in reserve...
The man hefts his mace with an indignant look. That's it, your going to be part of the new paint-job, ass-hat.
"Behold!" Douman thunders in his best impersonation of a aged wizard of the highest rank. "You are troubling forces you do not comprehend. Tremble in fear, mortal fools!" With that Vatra appears, directly in front of Doumane's outstretched hands.
The edioloan is man high, with thick, tough hide interlaced veins of glowing red lines, filled with fire. It's ragged claws hang low, and the pointed, narrow face grins in an evil, teeth filled smile, wreathed with licking flames.
"Begone!" Doumane shouts, peeking around the elemental.
The two guards take a step back, a quick flash of fear flashing across their faces, and a spark or two across their eyebrows.
Should you look over to her, Liviya has her eyebros raised, she leans back against the bar and decides to watch this play out.
They both shake their heads, rushing in against their better instincts.
Both are tripped up by their hesitation, and the second fumbles against an uneven floorboard as he strikes at Vatra, leaving him open for another attack.
Doumane laughs, "You'll have to try better then that boys. Or my friend here will eat you up!"
As if on cue Vatra lashes out with his claws, attacking the nearest of the thugs.
As Vatra savages him, Doumane adds, in an idle voice. "I'd run, if I were you."
Doumane holds back, seeing no need to waste a spell. He does take a step or two back to avoid any mad lunges by a thug with a deathwish.
The thug struck by Vatra falls backward, onconscious, his clothes still smoldering, the other takes a step back. A-alright. He said, dropping his mace to the floor, accidentally landing on his partner's back, who lets out a low moan. He kneels down and picks up his friend and looks, eyes full of fear, to Vatra, then Doumane. You win, you win, bastard. We'll leave you two alone, gods-damn it. He left, his unconscious compatriot in tow.
Liviya looks at him. I suppose I should thank you, you moron. She said, her smile dropping. Do you realize what you just did?
Doumane looks at Liviya, wondering what he has lande dhimself into. "I just saved a damsel in distress, I hope. With the aid of powerful and mighty magic that dazzled and amazed you."
Turning he bows to Vatra saying, 'Thank you, Vatra. Excellent work. Enjoy your fires." and with that the elemental shimmers like a heat haze, into nothingness, back to his Plane of Fire.
Turning back, "Judging by your eyebrows, I assume I have done poorly by saving you from the cretins?"
At damsel in distress Being mentioned, she gives you a glare. If looks could kill, she would have just dropped you dead.
I could have handled them. She said, raising her palm and generating a few sparks of electricity between fingertips. The thing is, I was smart enough not to. Those were two men, Ikron has a small army, and now we're both at the top of their s#+#-list. Have you ever fought an army before, idiot? I haven't, and I didn't plan on it.
She shakes her head. Look, idiot, I appreciate the thought, really, I do. It would have been charming if it didn't get us both killed. Thanks... idiot.
Doumane coughs, seeing that his little flippant remark will cost him. Damn, another city where I am an outcast. Still, she doesn't seem to mind I am Kellid. That is a good sign.
He clears his throat and says, "I'm sorry if I caused your trouble, I didn't intend to. I was worried they'd rough you, and this Inn up. I have to say, if you have magic though....Irkon's little force here didn't seem that impressive. Besides, surely the people are just waiting for someone to topple Ikron? I doubt he is that popular." Doumane says, casting about for some sort of plan that will please her. Besides, with two magic users, what could stop them? Vague delusions of grandeur floated in front of Doumane.
Liviya gave him a look, sardonic, her face cast down but eyes pointing towards his. From this view, you could see her azure-like blue eyes all the more prominently. You're right, I can definitely take them all, because Ikron is going to be smart enough to send his men in small groups at me from now on. She flips thhe colored strand of hair over her shoulder. There are lots looking for a revolution, but anyone with any real power is in Ikron's pocket. There's not a leader among the rest of them. Sad, really. She sighed, dropping her palm against the table, then tapping her maroon nails against the aged wood. Ya know, idiot, I don't think I got your name. I mean, I could just keep calling you idiot, if you like, but I'm sure you'd prefer it the other way. Would you like a glass of wine, on the house? She asked. As... stupid as that was back there... someone had to stand up sooner or later.
Doumane says, "My name is Doumane, recently of Lepidstadt University." smoothly dropping his old alma mater. "And some wine would be excellent, thank you. Summoning fire elementals is hard work. He adds with a wink, if he thinks he can get away with it.
He looks back into the fairly full common room, trying to find his new pale 'friend'. If he sees him he will crook and a finger and try to motion him to come up to the bar.
"So, is it really that bad here? I mean, I know our country has some nasty corners.." he says, trailing off.
A college boy, then? She hummed in amusement, grabbing a bottle of red with a picture of a stylized, curvaceous, and scantily clad orc girl on the label. Think you'll like this one. She said, pouring into two bottles. The grapes are snuck out of the borders of Belkzen. Very exclusive to that terrain.
Very nasty. Liviya said. He doesn't quite have an empire at his disposal, but he has the ambition and the resources to make life hell for anyone he thinks is getting in his way. That means us, now.
Jesyl is still sitting there, sipping his wine and smiling knowingly at him. He obliges to get up and walk forward.
You handled yourself quite well. He purred. It was quite amusing to watch, however short it was. You have definite skill. He said, then winked over to Liviya, who blushed ever so slightly.
Doumane wonders at that wink and blush. "Deep waters between them?" he muses to himself, before sipping his own wine thoughtfully.
'So it is 'us', then? Not going to blame it all on me and turn me out for the crows and Ikron's men? That is a relief."
Assuming things go well, he adds, "Do you know Jesyl here? I have to admit, he helped put me up to your...'rescue" He is sure to add that touch of self-deprecation in at that last word.
It's not our fault. Liviya said. It's our responsibility now. If I have to fight, I don't want to fight alone. Maybe, though, I can salvage everything and no more blood needs to be shed.
Only met him a week ago. Liviya said. But he makes his presence well known. For a great many people, might I add. She looked to him. Manipulating someone else, I see.
We all need out passtimes. Jesyl hummed, licking his lips. I thought he did a wonderful job here. Quite the dashing hero. When the second group of scoundrels shows up at his door, I'm sure he'll be more than capable of handling them. He leaned against the bar and flipped his hair out of his face, lines other his eyes on his otherwise improbably youthful face finally showing.
"Err, second group? Do you hear someone coming or something?" the druid pauses, listening intently.
"In any case, I am at your service, Lady Liviya." Doumane says, bowing dramatically. "My skills and magic our at your disposal. If we can prevent further bloodshed that is good, but if Ikron really is such a...bother, why not rally some of the others who disagree?" he adds, nodding at Jesyl as if he were an example.
Liviya smiles. I don't know whether you're a suicidal moron, or a suicidal knight in shining armor.
He could be both. Jesyl said. It looks like we have the face of the revolution standing before us, now don't we?
I... don't know. There might be enough people, but gathering them... I'm not sure if you've noticed, but Ustalavians aren't the most friendly of people.
In my experiences, Jesyl said. It is simply a matter of putting something they want in front of them, and giving them the instructions on how to get there. He pointed to Doumane. These last few minutes are a perfect example of that theory, aren't they?
"I'd settle for Knight in shining armor, without the qualifiers. But I'm not so keen on this revolution." he adds hastily, "I'm not even sure of the political realities here. Just passing through. I'm not a hero from a storybook, who breezes into town, beats the bad guys and then wanders off into the sunset."
He pauses, realizing that is exactly what happened. he coughs and goes on, "Besides, you said you are an accomplished magic user of some type, surely you are well-equipped to fight Ikron? Not to mention people in the area actually know you..."
But you were just recomending exactly that. Jesyl said. Is everyone around these parts so... wishy-washy?
I'm not sure how long you've been in Ardeal, Doumane, but there are no political realities here. The geezer in power has no power, her relatives are only interested in warm food and warm bodies, and the mayor is part of the syndicate. Liviya said. I'm not saying fight, or anything. At all. Fighting would be a bad idea. I'm just saying be prepared to defend yourself. They play rough. I can defend myself, and you can too, obviously.
Jesyl hummed. Might I suggest sleeping with one Eidolan open, from now on. He said.
Doumane shrugs, 'I'm still new at this, Jesyl. Give me a break."
He takes in Liviya's words carefully and replies, "Well, I'll do what I can. I honestly meant I was at your service. But, regardless of everything else, it is a cold rainy day outside and I've traveled a long way today. Perhaps it is time to turn in? See how things stand tomorrow, if we are being marched to Ikron's gallows?" he remarks, dryly and finishes off his wine.
Jesyl sips his eyes bumusedly at tht comment.
I'll keep that in mind. That's five crowns for the night. I gave you free wine, but this isn't a charity.
I think I shall retire for the night as well. Jesyl said, standing up. Not here, of course. I've got a place of my own, and one that had a better chance of lasting the night. He bows to you and Liviya. For now, I bid you adieu. Until next time, if you survive that long. He strode out the door, not giving the two of you another look.
There's something wrong with that man. Liviya said. Anyways... about that room...
"I wouldn't say 'wrong', exactly/" Doumane says, watching Jesyl leave. "More like....'off'. Something not quite right." he shrugs and turns back to Liviya.
"You would charge your suicidal knight in shining armor for staying in your Inn? Very well." he laughs and puts the coin on the counter. 'I will recall to charge if I have to summon anything in the night to save this building again. Which room is mine?" the druid asks.
Not right's still wrong.
Isn't the gift of free alcohol enough for you? Liviya asked. You can keep the rest of the bottle, if you're going to whine about it. She said with a playful smile as she grabbed the bottle by the neck and handed it to him.
I'll lead you, ser knight. She got up and tugged at his sleeve, taking him up the stairs and to the third room on the left. A bare-bones room with a mid-sized bed with a portrait of a stormy port hung above it. The floor was mostly wood, though dressed barely in a silky red rug. The only other adornment on the walls was the lacey white curtains on the wide window.
Accomadating enough for you, my liege? She asked.
He takes in the room. It was actually fairly nice, with a rug and art. Obviously not the sort of place that expected to try and steal anything. Then again, for five crowns a night, they were robbing you.
"It is very nice, Liviya. A room to proud of. You have built a nice way of life here. Perhaps, together, we can save it?" he says, allowing some seriousness to enter his voice. "In the morning, perhaps we can talk about Ikron some more and I can see what I can do, as an outsider to help?"
He takes his hat and throws it into a corner, 'For now, sleep would be welcome."
I'll leave you to your dreams, then. She said. I better retire myself. It's been a longer day than I thought it would be.
She nodded. If something has to be done... I guess I wouldn't mind it if things got a bit better here.
She left you to your own devices, slowly shutting the door behind her.
Doumane puts the chair/desk/chest against the door, wedging it firmly. It wouldn't stop a determined attack, of course, but it might wake him up if someone is trying to sneak it quietly. true, it removed the option of a late night visit from Liviya, but such are the perils of safety.
He also secures the windows if there is any shutters or locks.
Shrugging at the best job he can do, he retires, trying his best to keep his noble clothes unwrinkled.