Best of luck with all the work, GM! And thanks for giving me a shot at some of the quality rp you guys had going. Was fun while it lasted :)
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Take care!
When Talib moves, Sekla breathes a sigh of relief, finding a surcease to the building tension in action at last. Making sure to keep Talienda well in sight, she brings up the rear of the group, constantly scanning the crowd, watching the guards, waiting to see if they catch on to their group's intentions. She nearly bumps into Rissi when Talib urges them to slow down, and takes the opportunity to turn and press her back to the wall and take in the crazed crowd once more. To take time to check the exits, the goblin witch, the reaction of the guards. To make sure nobody is paying them undue attention.
Sekla brandishes her brutal battle-ax, settling into a ready crouch as she eyes the goblin witch. She exudes little more than wary readiness, her breath remaining steady, her control absolute. She doesn't, however, move to engage; as long as the goblin doesn't molest Talienda, she's more than happy to watch it attack the perverse crowd that took such delight in the torment of the goblins.
She'd rather not do it. Would if ordered point blank, but... she's very proud, and just met you guys, so...
Sekla looms over Talienda when the gnome makes to grab her hand, a low growl all the warning the vendor's going to get.
Sekla remains a dour presence, ignoring the transaction taking place between the gnome and her charge, and instead continuing to scan the environs. Occasionally she glances at Talib; when would they make their move? How would they play it? The hobgoblin places a fist inside the other palm and absent-mindedly cracks her knuckles. The sooner they get moving, the better.
Sekla looms behind Talienda all the while, hand resting on the pommel of her battleax, gaze ceaselessly roving over the crowd, checking the exits, the guards, the points of interest. She doesn't look at the goblins fighting in the center. In fact, she seems to studiously avoid them. There's a line of tension across her jaw, however, and she fairly radiates anger as takes in the scene.
Great news!
Sekla growls something back. Tali: "Then kidnapping is as bad as death."
Sekla considers, then leans down to whisper back. Talienda: "And who would pay your ransom?"
Feel better!
Sekla is a dour presence at Talienda's back, her full plate armor setting her immediately apart from the rabble and toughs that throng the area. Entering the manor, she quickly forgets the supposed cover story they're working with, and instead focuses on quartering the premises, trying to identify the greatest threats, and watching everybody who comes within striking distance of her charge. Though of course it's futile; there's nothing she could do to stop a crossbow bolt, a hurled spell, or even a lightning attack from out of the crowd. It puts her on edge, and she glowers all the more, her crimson eyes ceaselessly roving, anticipating trouble, her hand itching to draw her weapon.
Sekla's frown deepens. "Rig the match? As in, have me lose on purpose to a few unskilled goblins?" The very thought causes a new intensity to fall upon the hobgoblin; her shoulders hunch subtly, causing the edges of her paldrons to grate where they press against her cuirass and backplate. Her hands curl into fists, the metal and leather creaking.
Sekla frowns as she listens intently to Talib. "I am willing to fight. That would not be the cause for my objection. But the fights that take place in the manor are farcical, and meant to be as brutal as they are comedic. I would surely kill anyone set against me in moments, and the organizers would no doubt realize it. I doubt they would allow me in the ring, especially as I am known in fighting circles after my victory at the Irorium." She reaches under her armor to scratch. "May i suggest we paint Lady Blackhorn as a crude noblewoman in search of blood and lowlife diversion? My being her bodyguard would help fit the image, and the benefit would be my staying close to her for real protection."
"The best defense is to cut their throats," says Sekla pragmatically. "If Miss Blackhorn wills it, then I'm willing to hunt down this girl."
Fantastic news! I'm going to be busy these next couple of days, so please bot me if needed.
Hope things get better quickly, Yenet - sorry to hear about the complications.
Sekla studies the masked man, her gaze flat and cold. "Don't apologize," she says, tone gruff. "Whatever you do, own it. You wish to hide behind a mask? Then hide. Your reasons are your own, and only you can know if they are good. All that matters is if you are effective. If you accomplish your goals. If you feel satisfaction when you gaze at your reflection when you are alone." Then, suddenly feeling self-conscious for having spoken to much, she scowls and turns away. "Regardless. This disappearing dwarf is sign enough that Lady Blackhorn is in danger. But if they bring magic with them, then we are in much deeper trouble than I expected." She turns to study her ward, only realizing now what the young girl is doing. Her expression becomes complex for a moment - surprise, anger, doubt - and then smooths away to a professional, hard demeanor. "Either way, your living here is now known. We will have to be more careful. Do you have funds to place bars on the windows? How good are the locks on your doors? Would you be willing to invest in a half-dozen guard dogs?"
The conversation has strayed far beyond the realms of Sekla's understanding, so she ceases to pay attention and instead looks about them once more, scanning the surroundings.
Great to hear, Tali.
Sekla moves methodically through the house, opening closets, entering every room, crouching to examine spaces that would defy the casual eye. She listens intently as she goes, trying to catch some hint of someone moving ahead of her, or seeking to circumvent her approach. Nothing. Pauses at a window to study the strange, hawk-masked man, her heart rate spiking for a moment before settling. We all wear masks, she thinks to herself, before nodding grimly back to his salute and continuing her search. Eventually she steps back outside into the sunshine, expression dour, her frustration obvious. "Makes no sense, casting a spell on me like that only to disappear," she rumbles, moving to Talienda's side. She studies Alina, her expression grim, and nods when introduced. Her mind is too preoccupied with the events at hand however to bother with any comments of her own.
Sekla examines the rooftops as they go, but the lack of any menacing figure frustrates her further. "Perhaps it's gone invisible," she growls as Rissi moves to speak with the other human serving girl. Leaving the others to deal with the guardsmen, Sekla draws her battle-ax and marches back into the home, her whole manner having turned predatory. "Or it was trying to drive us out to get at something of value in this house..."
I'm really sorry to hear that, Tali. Will hope for the absolute best.
Sekla tears her gaze away from the rooftops at Talib's approach; for a moment she stares right through him, as if he were a stranger to her, and then he sees awareness, recognition flash in their depths, and something about her settles. "Al-Abadar," she says with a curt nod. "There was a cursed magic user," she all but snarls, turning to regard the rooftops once more. "Outside Lady Blackhorn's home. Struck at me with some foul witchcraft that turned my guts to ice and my knees to jelly. Size of a dwarf, all swaddled in robes. If I see it now, I'll tear its damned head off." The hobgoblin pauses a moment to study Talib's companion, eyes narrowing as she takes in the mask, but she chooses to make no comment.
Since I'm new to the group, I thought I'd check: what is the style of play here? Everyone posting in turn (traditional) or more fluid, with folks posting out of order now and then to keep things moving? No preference, just trying to figure out expectations :)
Dull anger thrums through Sekla like summer thunder rumbling on the horizon. She wants to smash her fist into somebody's face, and right now she's not too particular about whom's. As she leads the other two women down the street, she searches the rooftops, hoping to catch sight of the robed figure, hoping to see them so that she can hurl her battleax at their head. So that she can bellow her rage and attack before her fear can conquer her again, and ruin her week and not just her day. She doesn't allow herself to think of the impression she's made on the other two. On her new charge. On the fact that within moments of being officially taken on she'd near wet herself in terror. And from what? A small, robed figure on a distant rooftop? She grinds her teeth together as she stomps along, hands flexing, her brow lowered over her crimson eyes. Her visage is so menacing the street clears before her, a channel opening as pedestrians and idlers make way for a hobgoblin that is clearly looking for an excuse to put someone down.
Sekla pounds down the stairs, each stomp loud enough to make it seem as if the whole house is reverberating. Down she goes, fangs bared, to spill out onto the landing and rush to the front door. Only to freeze as fear coagulates into a ball of filthy ice slurry in her gut. Outside was where it was. Outside wasn't safe. "A basement?" she snarls over her shoulder at the others. "You got one? Where is it?"
No! Of all the spells for my bodyguard to be hit with in her intro scene...
A cold sweat breaks out across Sekla's gray-green skin, and suddenly her armor feels two sizes too large; she stumbles back from the curtain with a wordless croak, and it's all she can do to turn to the others before fleeing the room. Except - Talienda has disappeared. Disoriented, unsure as to what is going on, heart hammering like it wants to break free of her chest, she fixes her baleful crimson stare on the ratkin. "Run," she whispers, tone ragged with fear. "Talienda, if you can hear me - get downstairs. We'll have to find a way - a way out of this house - before - before -" That's all she can manage before she rushes toward the door.
Sekla thought of it, but that'd put them both prone. And a shot would have already come if it was a sniper intention to attack. Best to stay frosty and on their toes ;)
"Step away from the windows," says Sekla immediately, tone turning terse. If Talienda fails to comply quickly, she'll take hold of the young human by the arm and pull her firmly behind the safety of a wall. That done, the hobgoblin finds a curtained window that looks in the right direction and, donning her helm, peers out through a crack in the drapes to take in the watcher.
@DM: Sounds good. Also, I'm not expecting any payment or remuneration for Sekla's services. Just IC fluff. Though I am looking forward to playing the part of the gruff bodyguard!
Sekla listens to the ratkin with grave courtesy, though her expression betrays little. Though no taller than a human, the hobgoblin fills the room with her dour presence, one that is underscored by the brutal if beautiful crafting of her plate armor. "It is good to meet you, Lady Than. As a friend of Lady Blackhorn's, I'll try to keep you alive as long as it doesn't endanger my primary charge." To whom she turns. "No," says the hobgoblin, tone chilling. "I do not... sing. Let us square away the formalities, Lady Blackhorn. Please sign the contract I gave to Lady Than. It sets forth the terms and payments for our relationship. Either of us can end it without notice or further obligation. Your estate will owe me any outstanding sums should you die while a balance remains unpaid. I shall do all in my power to keep you alive, but cannot make any guarantees. The contract also covers any loss to my equipment and healing of injuries I incur in the line of duty. Take your time looking it over, and let me know if you have any questions."
The large mercenary does her best to hide her surprise; these 'magical tricks' are the province of shamans and miracle workers where she's from, and to see the little girl manipulate light and magic with such ease - to summon forth illusions and chimes of sound - sets Sekla's instincts to humming, urging her to show deference to one who is obviously touched by the gods. But Belkzen is thousands of miles away, and the hobgoblin who might have fallen to her knees in amazement at such a display of supernatural power is now long gone. Instead, Sekla masks her amazement behind a dour expression and gives a curt nod when the curtains are drawn back and Talienda concludes her display.
"Very good," she says. "Such... tricks... can be useful. And where a sapling grows today, an oak may stand tomorrow." She rubs at her chin, considering the small girl. "You are not what I expected. Diago Blackhorn was a powerful man. Most men gain power in cities like Absalom at the expense of others. He no doubt had many enemies as a result. Yet you..." She trails off, unsure where she was going. Catches herself and stands a little taller. "Very well. You have told me about yourself. I will tell you what you need to know about me. I am Sekla Torgut, once of the wastes of Belkzen, but now of the Precipice District. I was enslaved many years ago and brought to fight in Cheliax. I survived their gladiatorial pits and escaped with another. Together we came to Absalom to fight in the Irorium, where we won the annual championship. My partner did not survive the contest. Since then I have worked as a body guard for those I find worthy of protecting. You are one such, Talienda Blackhorn. If you find me suitable, then I will accept this commission."
Sekla prides herself on her reflexes, both mental and physical. On taking the world as it presents itself, and not being tripped up by assumptions, hopes, or guesses. But this is the second time in nearly a minute that the young human girl has caused her to mentally stumble. "By a man murdered ten years ago?" For a moment the words don't make sense, and then understanding dawns and she makes a rough gesture before her heart, a superstitious motion to ward off evil spirits.
But quickly the details slide into place with what she'd heard on the streets, and her respect for the pair - ratkin and human both - grudgingly goes up a notch. "So you were involved in the courthouse a week or so ago. And that's where Malgrim met his end." She takes her time digesting this. "All right." She resists the urge to begin pacing. "No doubt that's why you've moved into this place. To lay low. Smart thinking." Sekla frowns as she considers the angles, a vertical line appearing between her hairless brows. "You've good instincts. You'll be seen as prey by those who want your father's wealth, as well as those who had vendetta's against him. You're young, weak looking, female. The line of opportunists will go around the block when word gets out." A sharp nod as she agrees with herself. "And you know a little magic? How much? What can you do?"
Still working on Sekla's voice/tone. She's growing a little coarser as I write her, but hasn't quite clicked into place just yet.
Sekla pauses at the threshold, turning to study the gate and the road beyond it, and only then does she enter the small home. She follows the ratkin and the human into the sitting room, which she paces across, prowls almost, before finally choosing a corner to stand in with a view of the doors and without a window too close by. To say she looks out of place in the sitting room is an understatement. Her dour, grim presence is such that she looks more suited to a battlefield or some lethal dungeon, not a sunlight chamber where tea is about to be served. "Nothing," she says when asked. Her gaze follows the ratkin as she leaves the room on Talienda's request. A friend? A guardian? A servant? Hard to say. Her attention slides back to the young human. She's a curiosity. Unlike any employer she's ever had. At once so fragile and delicate seeming - she'd surely not survive a week in the wastes of Belkzen - yet here wealth and... something else... gave her authority, the ability to hire one such as herself. Most strange. Talienda offers her apology, and in doing so, sharpens Sekla's interest further. "Avenge Malgrim?" She gives a low bark of dismissive laughter. "The world's a better place for his death. No. I've no sympathies for him or his gang." A beat as the implication sinks in. "Wait. You saying you're responsible for his death?" This said with no small amount of incredulity. She waves a hand, brushing aside the human's apology. "If I agree to work for you, you'll be my employer. I'll do what you command and your safety'll be my priority. I'll fight off any threats, and if needs be, kill 'em. Just as this armor protects me -" She raps her knuckles on her breastplate, "- I'll protect you. I'll be your armor." All this is said forcefully, almost harshly. The hobgoblin doesn't move, stands as solid as a menhir, her bronze armor glimmering and giving off a metallic tang. "So there's no need for apologies. No need for forgiveness. What there's a need for is your telling me what kind of trouble you're in. Who or what is threatening you? How'd this trouble come about, and are there any legal angles to it? I'm guessing not, with Talib being involved. And please. Be specific. I like the facts up front before taking on a commission."
I love Talienda's charm. It's so sincere and disarming.
No worries! Just wanted to be sure :)
@Rissi: Apologies, Sekla held out the contract for her to take? Speaking of, I don't know ooc what such a contract might look like or how it might identify Sekla, but perhaps we could hand wave that part a little?
Sekla has worked for a variety of employers by this point. They've been disparate, sure, but also united in a few key ways: they've been men; they've been mostly responsible for the danger they found themselves in; and they've almost uniformly been unpleasant, brash, and boors. Sekla looks down at the young lady frozen behind the ratkin, and can't help but marvel at how much things have changed. The hobgoblin extends the contract to the ratkin. "I don't have a message," she says in heavily accented common. "An offer was made by a Talib Abd al-Abadar to work as Blackhorn's bodyguard." A pause as Sekla entertains the possibility that she got all this wrong. Had there been a mistake? Shouldn't she, somehow, have been hired by this girl's father? Diago sounded like the kind of man who'd have paid for her services. Wealthy, no doubt surrounded by enemies - - enemies who'd not have disappeared when he died. Ah. "My name is Sekla Torgut. I am a mercenary. Once hired, I am loyal and capable of great violence. al-Abadar requested my services, but I have not yet accepted. I would speak with you first. Learn the nature of your problem and introduce myself better before agreeing to the terms." And see if you will hire me on, now that you have seen what I am.
Sekla is an intimidating sight; clad in the burnished bronze plate armor, she exudes a sense of martial mastery that quells all but the most thoughtless of hecklers. Yet there's no denying her goblinoid heritage; crimson eyes the color of fresh blood peer through the slots in her helm, while her sallow, gray-green skin gives away her hobgoblin heritage. "Talienda Blackhorn?" she rasps when the young woman appears at the door.
Eastgate was only a stone's thrown north of the Precipice District, but it might as well have been another world. Ordered streets, clean, sober homes, and regular guard patrols imparted upon the quarter an almost surreal normalcy. Sekla couldn't have felt more alien. A few years ago she'd have visited such a locale only at the front of a horde intent on burning it. Now? Now she clutches a contract in one hand, holds her bronze helm under the other arm, and stalks forward stiffly, expecting at any moment to be hailed by a passing patrol. But Absalom surprises her. Nobody does more than stare, but even so, by the time she reaches the front gate of the given address she feels like she's run a gauntlet. A moment to consider the property. To evaluate its defensive qualities. If possible, she walks around it once or twice, eyeing the walls, gauging how isolated it its, how dark sidestreets might be in the middle of the night, where an opportunistic attacker might choose to break in.
That done, she looks for a way to announce herself. No bell hangs at the front gate, so, after a moment's hesitation, she pushes it open and walks through the wilderness of a garden to the entrance, where she knocks firmly three times then steps back so as to not intimidate whomever opens the front door. Her intention proves fruitless. The wisp of a human servant girl blanches at the sight of her, stammers something, and runs inside. Sekla purses her lips over her fangs and considers following the woman inside. But no. This wasn't her domicile. She had yet to be formally engaged. So, though she hears voices filtering down from the stairwell within, she resigns herself to wait, helm under one arm, offered contract nearly scrunched into a ball in her gauntleted fist.
Thumbs up emoji.
At the same time, Talienda and Rissi will hear a knock on their door which is likely to bring the wholesomeness of the scene down a couple of notches. DM, should I have Sekla knock, or are you planning a post?
:) I just dropped my intro post. Feel free to bring Sekla on when the time is right - the post can take place whenever the contract is extended. Talib, how do you imagine Sekla came to your attention? If they've interacted at all, I'm thinking she'd have a high opinion of him, given her respect for the law and orderly people. I'm open to whatever you think works best, back story wise.
Intro Post:
The house lists like a ship. When storms come barreling in off the Inner Sea, the entire edifice groans like an old man on his death bed. Perched on the edge of a cliff in the Precipice District, the three story tenement teeters precariously. Sekla knows one day the whole wretched building will slide in a cacophony of shattering timbers and rattling tiles into the ocean far below. She wonders, sometimes, if she'll be in it when it goes. Wonders if she'll fight to get free. The salt tang of the ocean does much to neutralize the odor of rotting wood and mildew, but not enough. Stains spread across the walls like fantastic maps of continents that have never been. At night, the bio-luminescent mold that spreads across the ceiling lights up in pastel hues that - when seen with the right eyes - could even be said to be beautiful. At night, Sekla stares through that glow into harsh memories. Wrestles with her past. Seeks to entomb her ghosts behind formidable gates in the recesses of her mind, and fails. Gold comes easily enough. It never lasts long, though. The fault, she knows, lies with her; she simply doesn't care to retain what she earns. Her prices are high, pride demands she set top rates; but once the gold lies in her palm, she forgets why she wanted it. Spends it freely, gives it away, loses coins in the cracks between the treacherous floorboards of her room. There's always more work to be had. Always a knock at the rotted post outside her front door. Someone seeking to leverage her reputation for ferocity and reliability. To set her in her gleaming, infamous Irorium armor before their woes, and will them away. She knows that for most, that's all they see. The formidable presence, the dread reputation, the sculpted bronze plate, the brutal helm. Few care to look beyond that, and those that do balk at the being beneath: a hobgoblin warrior born in the wastelands of Belkzen, hewn from primordial stock, her body supple with muscle and fluid strength. The slate green skin streaked across the shoulders with liver spots. The bald pate, the angular, bat-like ears, the crimson eyes, the fangs that protrude from behind her lower lip. Hobgoblin. A word that's more curse than nomination. But that suits her fine. She has the ocean to rock her to sleep at night, the gold to waste in the evenings, her armor to polish to a mirror-like perfection in the bright dawns. Her life can be measured by contracts, by soft murmurs of appreciation, the long shifts on guard duty, the brief, near ecstatic moments when violence finally breaks out, blood is spilt, when men scream and blade flash and then turn sanguine. The house lists like a ship. One day it will slide in a cacophony of shattering timbers and rattling tiles into the ocean, and Sekla doesn't really wonder if she'll fight to break free. But until then she'll take contracts and satisfy timid and avaricious men. There's a peace that comes with resignation. Until. A knock at the door. The salt air has swollen it shut again. Sekla sets down her throwing ax and whetstone, considers the portal, then rises when the messenger knocks again. Anybody who knocks but the once isn't worth attending. With a savage jerk she tears the door open, and glowers down at the clean cut clerk who blinks up at her. Abadaran. A rarity, but indicative of a better kind of contract. "Excuse me, Lady Sekla, but I - ah - have a commission for you, and - well - if you're not too busy, a client would appreciate your services. She put in word with us, and we promised to contact you." Sekla watched the man lose his composure, inch by sagging inch. "Name?" she asked, voice little more than a rasp. "A Lady Talienda Blackhorn. She, ah - nevermind. Inspector Talib Abd al-Abadar referred you to her." Sekla sniffs. The sound causes the man to flinch. Talib. "Very well. Standard rate." "Of course, of course. Shall I, ah, tell them you'll... come around...?" "Yes. Tell them. Where can Blackhorn be found?" "Here. I have her new address." The man proffers a slip of paper. Sekla takes it without glancing at its contents. Levels her flat stare at the man till he shrinks back. "Yes. Ah. Haha. I'm sorry, I don't know why I just laughed there. Thank you. That's what I meant to say. And. Good day?" With that, the human turns and hurries down the skewed steps, one hand extended for balance but not quite touching the rotting walls. Sekla closes the door. Glances at the paper, then drops it on the head of a barrel. Turns to regard the only object of real value in the room. Her gleaming bronze armor, meticulously arranged on rusted iron frame. The hobgoblin stands in silence for a spell, old memories stealing forth to assail her. Hot sands under the summer sun, the tang of blood in the air, the screams - With effort, she forces the memories away, and then sets to donning her plate. There was work to be done.
Great. I'll make those minor changes, then, and get up an intro post showing Sekla receiving her new contract. |