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Post by Horace on Dec 31, 2008 19:52:37 GMT -8
Horace ran his fingers through his hair as he sat back. Dismayed he saw how many more baskets he had to go. More goddamned baskets. All around him in the workhouse men and women were pumping out baskets as fast as they could.
I need a new job. And with that, Horace left. Impulsive perhaps, but I need to get out of here . Horace decided to go home to organize for his departure. But first he needed a drink, and wanted to hear some gossip. After all, a caravan or raiding team would be ideal.
Horace arrived at the Rut, a popular alehouse for adventurers and mercenaries. He entered the tavern, sat down at the bar and ordered a stiff local brew. His eyes focused on the table, he strained to hear a conversation of interest...
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Post by shinnkopf on Jan 1, 2009 17:26:44 GMT -8
Sarriet Shinnkopf sat in the corner at a small table in shadows, lit only by a single dreary candle which seemed to emphasize the darkness more than give and real light. With him sat one of his chief advisers, Daniforth. Daniforth was not one of the territorial leaders on his council, but rather a close childhood friend with a mind for politics. Sarriet had invited him to the capital city as soon as he had arrived to take the throne. They were having a rather tense argument in heated tones.
"I need to get the Hell out of this place!" whispered Sarriet in a half angry, half pleading tone. "I Can't take anymore of this political bullshit! I'm not right for it!."
"Whether you are right for it or not is not in question here!" whispered Daniforth. 'It is your responsibility to be here and protect your people!"
"The council can cope in my absence! We wouldn't be gone long! Just a few weeks, a month or two tops."
"No," said Daniforth, abandoning his hushed tones. "I won't be a part of this! I will not leave with you on another of you hair-brained adventures! Do what you will SIRE," He said, emphasizing the word, "But i will NOT be a part of this nonsense!."
With this, Daniforth stood up, threw a silver coin on the table to pay for his half-eaten meal, a walked angrily to the exit, leaving Sarriet sitting in the shadows to ponder the evening's events.
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Post by Horace on Jan 1, 2009 17:38:00 GMT -8
"political bullshit . . . adventure . . ." Horace listened and was most intrigued. Sneaking a sideways glance he saw the finery both men were dressed in.
Hmmm, a politician of some sort? Well rich anyway. Horace rose calmly. He was now angling to be picked up as a sword for hire. Time to look the part. Plenty of swagger and showing of his very lethal scimitar. He cursed himself for not having his crossbow. As he walked over he noticed the remaining politician was an elf. Magic user most likely, not completely helpless.
Life's never easy Horace thought ruefully. Horace set his drink down in front of the despondent elf and slid into his seat.
"Heard you were thinking of adventuring."
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Post by shinnkopf on Jan 1, 2009 17:49:58 GMT -8
Sarriet looked up to see the man standing there above him, scimitar prominently displayed at his hip. He was startled for a moment before he registered the man's words. unsure of what to make of this newcomer and his questioning, Sarriet decided to put on his politician face and keep ambiguous.
"I may be thinking such, and what business is it of yours? What are you? Some kind of mercenary brigand? Hoping to be picked up by some defenseless adventurer?"
Sarriet's words came out sharper than he had meant them. He had in fact meant no disrespect to the man at all. It was just his default attitude of late, with all of the arguing taking part within his council chambers.
"I'm sorry friend," He said, sighing. "I meant no offense to you, i simply have much on my mind of late and am in much need of a break from my current situation.... Yes, I am thinking of doing a bit of adventuring. It should help me get my mind off of this abhorrent place. First things first though my good sir. I am Sarriet." He paused for a moment, thinking to give his surname and title, but thought better of it. When people heard his name and rank, they generally turned the other way and ran: an unfortunate result of his brother and father's infamy.
"So what do you call yourself, stranger?"
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Post by Horace on Jan 1, 2009 18:11:29 GMT -8
An elf with no surname, yet was still wealthy? Horace discarded the insane idea that this man was the renegade Sultan.
"My name is Horace, and we'll keep it at that since surnames seem to have gone out of fashion," said Horace as he sat down. He inspected the elf more closely. Definitely a caster, possibly a strong one.
"Now, when you refer to 'this abhorrent place' are you speaking of this city here, this country, or are we being more existential and talking about life itself? If the first then I would be glad to direct you to a place of crushed dreams and fabulous treasures that I have been thinking about visiting. If you seek to be out of this country I would also enjoy a change of scenery, possibly Amythest Vale or Urbaan? If, however, you speak of the third I'd advise you consult wiser heads than mine, or the business end of a broadsword."
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Post by shinnkopf on Jan 1, 2009 18:18:23 GMT -8
humorous......... thought Sarriet as the man sat down. This human seems to be asking for my companionship after only moments of talking to me.... hmm.......... He could either be incredibly foolish to trust a stranger, incredibly powerful to be able to disregard any dangers of traveling with strangers, incredibly trusting to see that i have no reason to harm or betray him, or he could simply be an assassin sent by one of the leaders of the clans who meant to kill me.... We shall see...
"As a matter of fact, it is a combination of a few of those... I was reffering to this abhorrent state of being to which i am exiled whilst i remain in this city and this kingdom. It is a resolvable state though, and with no need to fraternize with broadswords, I assure you. How about I buy you a drink and we discuss this further Mr. .... um... Horace."
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Post by Horace on Jan 1, 2009 19:20:58 GMT -8
Horace chuckled, "That sounds like a plan boss, I assume boss is appropriate because you look like you have the money to finance this little venture."
Horace accepted a second drink Sarriet had waved over, "Now our choices are fairly presented by a compass. If we travel to the West we will find Urbaan, but I'd guess you'd be more interested in moving on towards Amythest Vale so as to find us some magical trouble. To the north we could go get cultured in Cathalis and on to the Zollverien. In the east we would find great treasure and most likely a bloody end in Pyrlon. And i very much doubt you want to go South to Ekvisted, so boss, pick your poison"
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Post by shinnkopf on Jan 1, 2009 19:36:43 GMT -8
well, Thought Sarriet, This guy really is a mercenary. He couldn't figure out what it was about Horace, but something about him screamed trustworthy. And besides, Sarriet had been looking for adventure... Having a companion since Daniforth bailed might be to his advantage.... horace didn't look like a mgaic-user, but his confidence with his scimitar at his hip seemed to say that he was a competent warrior. What the Hell.. let's do it
"What the hell.... Lets do it!" Said Sarriet out loud to Horace. "I have no real preference to our destination, as long as we get the Hell out of Trans-Sibra. I'm sick of this place."
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Post by Horace on Jan 1, 2009 19:41:52 GMT -8
No Pyrlon then, ah well Horace drained the last of his ale and stood up.
"Very well then, let's make our way west and see what comes of it. I'll meet you at the Western Gate in two days at dawn. Bring what rations you can. We can resupply in Urbaan if that isn't our destination." With that Horace stood up and exited the alehouse without looking back.
leave em impressed and compelled to keep their word.
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Post by shinnkopf on Jan 1, 2009 19:53:38 GMT -8
Sarriet sat for a few minutes more after Horace had left, thinking about the events that had transpired. Getting rations would not be an issue, as he could provide for them well enough in the wild with magic. What he had to do was set his affairs in order. He would have to give acceptable excuses for his absence that were hard to verify, thus people couldn't try to disprove him....
A treat with a foreign dignitary might be good... No, too many things could go wrong...
Consulting with a wise hermit with the power of foresight... Yes... That could work..........
These thoughts still in his mind, he stood up, left his money on the table and left the premises.
(Thread done...)
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