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Post by Soranal on Jul 3, 2006 19:50:13 GMT -8
As he stood looking over the remains of the town of Whitestone, he felt a chill. In the middle of summer, that is odd indeed. This had been his home for some time, he knew people here. He wonders what happened to the people of Whitestone. He wonders what force could have done such a cataclysmic thing to the town?
A noise.
Back and to the left.
Motion..... stealthy.
He turns and in one fluid movement has a spell launched at this quiet foe. It is resisted. Another. Resisted. Finally the enemy is defeated. The third spell found it's mark. What a strange creature this is. Some type of dwarf, but twisted and deformed. Perhaps this was the fate of the townsfolk, perhaps these are the assailants. Whatever, there's nothing more to keep him here. He will journey to the mountains, they've grown quiet of late. He will wander they're peaks and valleys away from the struggles of men for awhile...
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Post by NLV Plot on Jul 26, 2006 8:40:35 GMT -8
Walking quietly out of what remained of Whitestone, Soranal could see the desert landscape approaching the hills and mountains not far off. What caught his eye was a pair of lines in the ground, stretching off into the distance. A wagon has been here, but with the weather of late it was difficult to say when. He could tell the tracks lead around the near pass, through what was the center of Whitestone, and down toward the south. A familiar south for him.
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Post by Soranal on Jul 27, 2006 16:47:29 GMT -8
"Recent wagon tracks" he thinks. "That's odd. I wonder if they were attacked as well?"
Studying the tracks, he finds no sign of combat but can tell nothing more than direction. South. Toward Lochling. He hasn't been there in a very long time. It isn't safe to stand here thinking about it for very long, so he heads south following the tracks.
"Besides", he muses to himself, "there's always time to enjoy the mountain's solitude. And I might be able to find out what happened here as well. A few hours in an uncomfortable cityscape won't kill me."
Subterranean eyes, shielded from the sun, watch him as he leaves the ruins of Whitestone behind him.
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Post by Soranal on Aug 3, 2006 19:13:11 GMT -8
The passage south was strangely... uneventful. He remembered there being more dangers on the road. As he traveled he thought about what or who he might find in Lochling. Perhaps he will visit the old orphanage where they all grew up. Perhaps he will find some of his 'brothers' here. It would be good to see them again. It has been a long time since he has seen any of them. Guards riding up on horseback bring him out of his daydreaming. "You there, you're a mangy looking fellow. From where do you hail? What is your business in the High Generals lands?" says the lead rider as they stop in front of him. 'High General?' he thinks, 'Obviously I've missed something important...' "I hail from the north, and I come to find information" , he replies. "The north? What kind of answer is that? You'd better come with us." With that the other riders surround and flank him, allowing for difficult escape. Not wanting to become some kind of criminal, he suffers through their 'capture' and follows them to the city. The city of Lochling seemed much bigger than he'd remembered, plus they now flew different flags than before. Well, no, there was the Acklicieum flag. It was below and smaller than the new flag. He didn't know what had happened but it must have been big. His 'escort' took him to a garrison building within the first district and explained the situation to their superior. That fellow, a Captain by the look of him, came over and gave Soranal a thorough assessment. When he was content with that he said, "You say you come from the north. I'd say that by the look of you, you've been out in the wilderness for quite some time. Is that correct?" A single nod. Nodding to himself, the captain continues,"You say you are looking for information, what type of information might I ask?" Soranal narrow's his eyes and purses his lips ever so slightly, "I seek information on what was once known as Whitestone." The captain quirks an eyebrow, "Well, you've been out of the loop indeed if you haven't heard about that. Well, I suppose I'll let you go and find it out for yourself. The refugees that made it here are in the Salamin district by the way. Just don't cause any trouble in the High Generals city and our relationship will remain a pleasant one. You can pick up a copy of the new laws on your way out." Soranal does just that and reads them as he walks down the street. This helps him block out the city sights and sounds that often unnerve him. Eventually he makes his way to a library and is promptly denied admittance. It is then that he hears a whisper from the corner. "Hey buddy, if it's information you want, don't go in there. What you need to do is talk to me. If I don't know it, I can find someone who does." Soranal replies, "Let me guess, this knowledge has a price, right?" The dirty individual gets a slick grin on his face and says, "Of course, but I'll tell you what. I'll give you a freebie, as long as the info isn't too extreme, if you know what I mean..." "Well, lets try this one then, can you tell me what happened to the city of Whitestone and it's inhabitants?" The beggar laughs, "Oi, that ones easy see. They was attacked by underground monsters and the entire town got sucked up into the earth! The High General hi'self were there and he helped all them refugees get to the Salamin district right here in merry ol' Lochling. I hear that they are making all kinds of ruckus over there. Now, anything else you wanna know, it's gonna cost ya' see." "Thank you, I don't think I'll require anything else at this time. I will remember you for next time." With that, Soranal makes his way toward the Salamin district. 'Salamin district, I recall that it was all closed up when I was growing up here. Something about a plague or a curse. I can't remember. Hmmm, it figures that people from Whitestone would end up in the cursed and diseased ghetto of Lochling. I'll just make a quick pass through, I don't want to get involved in their troubles... and I'm sure they'll have many.' As he approaches the gates to the district, he begins to feel uneasy. He has trouble placing his finger on it at first then he realizes what the feeling is. He feels like a predator that has just entered the territory of another predator, or perhaps a group of predators. His senses are all on alert now, he won't find rest until he leaves this district.
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Post by Soranal on Aug 10, 2006 18:50:27 GMT -8
As he walks through the district, his stride is slow and his senses sharp. He can sense hostility lurking at the edge of his reach. Never fully there, like some phantom. He studies the faces that he passes, not nearly as many as in the other districts, but doesn't see any that he recognizes. He spies an inn, the Iron Traveler, and takes a look in there. A gypsy woman behind the bar, a few patrons, nothing useful or interesting. He sees a message tree just outside, 'Perhaps this may prove useful' he thinks. Reading it, he recognizes a few names here and there. "So Draylen the gypsy is the guildmaster of the House of the Stars. I remember him being a fighter...hmm." He continues to muse to himself as he reads, "Gabrielle is still in charge of the Earth Alliance, no surprise there. LORD Jean Rowen?? That is fairly amusing! If Jean is a lord, then Kallis must be... a count or something. Bramus is likely to be up there too." After perusing the posts and leaving without really finding what he wanted, Soranal decided it was time to leave this cursed place. He wasn't too sure that the place was safe to open again, it just felt wrong to him. He makes a slow turn, taking in his entire surroundings, perhaps he will see a famaliar face in the crowd....
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Post by Bramus Prayer on Aug 14, 2006 14:42:50 GMT -8
Bramus adjusts the hood over his face as he moves through the district. Careful to avoid the city guard he move along a main road. Turning a corner he nearly runs into the Watch Captain, he pauses and steps aside and the captain mumbles a curse and moves on. Bramus turns moves off and taking a look back, catches a glimpse of the captain speaking to someone.
While waiting to meet with his contact, he spots a scuffle near a small alley. Bramus shakes his head, thinking to himself, "The OLD Bramus might run off and break his cover but not this guy." Silently points to himself while shaking his head.
After a few moments he hears a short scream, almost immediately muffled. He starts as if to move in the direction, but refrains. Still hearing a muffled noises, he moves off mumbling about asking for it. Coming around the corner he smells stale ale and sees a drunk soldier, hand over the mouth of a young woman. Two other men pound away some drinks, giggling to themselves. "Time to retire for the night gentlemen..." Bramus casually walks up in between the two. "I think the lady is ready to leave." The man behind the lady release her, the woman suddenly looking very composed and now armed. The other two drunkards stumble slightly behind Bramus, breaking any escape plans. "And to think there were no more hero's left." The lady smirks. "Your possessions hero." Bramus eyes the woman and large mercenary. "No..." A nod from the mercenary and the two drunkards charge. From under the hood, a sword and hand axe emerge. Bramus smashes one in the face with the flat of his axe blade, the other takes a kick to the stomach. After eying the two men on the ground, he turns to face the other two.
The large mercenary charges Bramus, large steel claymore glinting in the night sky. He the sword from down low up toward Bramus's head. Bramus leans back, the blade passing just in front of his face. "Your dead..." He hisses and spins quickly, sword outstretched. Bramus ducks the blade and hamstrings the man, and brings a forearm to his head, knocking him to the ground, out cold. Bramus glances at the woman, sheathing his weapons. "Find a new profession, and new company..." Bramus strides from the alley, and replacing the hood, moves toward the tavern.
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Post by tiafox on Aug 14, 2006 18:12:45 GMT -8
In a dark alley, Tia leans against the side of a building as she watches people pass back and forth in the street outside. She taps her foot impatiently against the wall and quietly growls under her breath. He's late...again.
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Post by Soranal on Aug 17, 2006 19:23:00 GMT -8
No longer comfortable in this city setting, Soranal decides that it is time to leave. He hustles out of the district and then out of the city itself. He travels on the road north for some time, allowing the tranquility of nature to return to him. He spies a copse of trees off to the northwest and goes and sits beneath the shade offered. He thanks the dryads and begins to meditate. His peaceful reverie is interrupted by a foreboding whisper on the wind. Most would never hear it, they just get a chill up the spine, but Soranal knows how to listen to the wind. It is very vague... it seems to say that his friends are in danger in the northwest. That would be Lincoln and Elidore. The odd thing about this wind is how vague it is... he encountered this once before, it means this wind has picked up an echo from the future or the past. No time to ponder on it, if it is the future then he has to move out right now. He's going to be very tired when he arrives but he will get there to make a difference.
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Post by tiafox on Aug 29, 2006 11:42:32 GMT -8
Hours had passed and there was still no sign of him. With a sigh and a mutter of discontent, she pulled her cloak tight around her and headed toward the tavern.
He was probably off playing hero somewhere, she mused to herself, and she didn't have the time or patience for it right now. Too much was at stake and there was still much to be done.
No matter, once he discovered she had left, he would come find her. That had better be soon, she had to leave tonight...with or without him.
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