The Bangellian Scourge

Discussion in 'Roleplaying Forum' started by Gjerdev Ankarus, Nov 7, 2009.

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  1. Gjerdev Ankarus

    Gjerdev Ankarus New Member

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    The Discussion


    Syvian stared into the stirring mass within his mug, his brow furrowing and jaw tightening. He would think no more on this, he conjectured, and stood, obnoxiously shoving aside his barstool. As he arose he wisely avoided the glances of the young men sitting near him.

    Syvian's eyes lingered on the bartender for a moment, who was busy chatting up a few patrons. He sighed, and walked out without paying. Back at the flophouse, he grabbed his iron chest by its handle and sighed the same sigh.

    Cheers. Called a young man sitting in the corner atop a dirty Cumbrian army cot, name of Darius.
    I'll be le'in th' Maugers know y' been slashed. Ough'a cover ya. Good luck wherever the 'ell yer goin'.

    Thanks, mate. Syvian replied, putting a jocular emphasis on the second word.
    I'll be sure to send word once I've 'it Stillwater. Tell y' mum I've disappeared, nary a word about me fate. ...Goodbye, Darius.

    Syvian walked briskly out of the side entrance of the cheaply lent property as his body shook with anxiety. He sighed again, this time interspersed with that same anxious shiver that now commanded his body. He clutched the dagger tied to his waist and pulled the discarded brass pocket watch from his overcoat, gazing into it thoughtlessly as he daydreamt. No time to waste, he thought, and immediately shook his head, sensing the illusion within his own thinking.

    It would be a long trek north, and Syvian would have to go around the commercial district and stock up. Every pence he had was in that chest of his, and it'd soon be all but spent in exchange for supplies. He dodged the glances of other steamrail patrons as his stop approached.
     
  2. Xiao_Caity

    Xiao_Caity New Member

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    Louise 'Lou' Jannesson swayed in time to the music, following a set of steps that only existed inside her head. Her brightly coloured dress and the ribbons in her hair fluttered and danced with her, creating a whirlwind of colour that drew the eye.

    She was surprised that the Panarii church had allowed her troupe to perform at their festival, but she wasn't going to complain. The coins were tumbling in and the followers of Nasrudin were generally less likely to start groping inappropriately than some others. She was never dancing in Stillwater again.

    Lou finished her dance with a final flourish, and she curtseyed gracefully to the small audience and their applause. Straightening, she saw a familiar and distinctly welcome half-ogre standing outside the tent her uncle had pitched. Making excuses, she sauntered towards the tent, making sure she looked like she was just dropping off some coins or somesuch. Lorham looked like he'd been ordered not to let anyone pass. Well, a little of her charm would deal with that.

    She waved her hand in a mystic pattern and sealed the spell with a blown kiss, and Lorham's eyes glazed over a bit. He blushed as she waved at him (imagine, a big tough half-ogre blushing! Would wonders never cease?), and he didn't even try to stop her waltzing into the tent.

    She curtseyed to her uncle and to Chancellor Whilloughsby, and stood behind her uncle in a way that said quite clearly that she wasn't going anywhere. The Chancellor rolled his eyes, used to such tricks on her part.

    "There's a rather interesting rumour I'd like you to follow up for me..."
     
  3. Mesteut

    Mesteut New Member

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    "All seems to be clear", the Young Captain explained, as he stopped gazing at the horizon through his looking glass. "Still, I have a bad feeling about this".

    Mesteut pondered. The ship had set sails for Caladon, but upon special request from him, tne ship was going west instead of south-east. It would be no easy task to convince the Captain for such a venture, had he not mentioned the possibility for great riches. The reasoning was that it might be possible that the rightside of the map was also connected to the leftside of the map, bypassing Cumbria and the Razor's Pointe in a possible route. What were the chances of the route being blocked by, say, another landmass anyways?

    - Rest assured Captain!, he exclaimed. You had said yourself that you could sail in any weather, and none but us are daring-
    - Or stupid, the captain interrupted.
    - The point is, we're the only ones sailing in these waters right now. What can go wrong?

    Just as the Captain was about the elaborate, he turned his face right. The First Mate was standing next to them.

    - What's the matter?
    - A raft is approaching at full speed, Capt'n.
    - Full speed? A raft? North of the Isle of Despair? What kind of nonsen-

    The ship suddenly shook with the shock of an unusually strong wave, as the crew were tossed around a vessel. A dark cloaked figure and half a dozen skeletons climbed aboard the deck.

    "You shall not continue on your path", the dark figure exclaimed.
     
  4. Wolfsbane

    Wolfsbane Well-Known Member

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    Stupid Library. Stupid book. Stupid city.

    And, most importantly, stupid Geoffrey. Stupid, yet uncannily lucky, Geoffrey.

    It wasn't fair, really. While Geoffrey was already off to Ashbury in search of that Malachi Rench-thing, he, Viktor, was still stuck in stupid Tarant, trying to find at least one book in the librarys entire collection that wasn't a complete waste of his very precious time. The one he was currently reading had shown signs of usefulness when he'd first picked it up, but by now all the little important details and actual facts had been replaced with fairytale fantasies and ridiculous assumptions. Once again, the so called "great" library of Tarant had let him down.

    Muttering curses under his breath, he stubbornly continued studying the content of the old, ragged book in hope of an overlooked detail that would finally get him going on the right track, barely managing to ignore the insight that it wouldn't.

    A sudden gust of cold air broke his concentration, and he found himself having walked way past his street. Now, he was standing in front of Vermillion Station, which was, in his mind, miles from where he lived. Muttering again, he closed the book and tucked it away in one of the inside pockets of his jacket. Then, he went towards the steamrail station. It was getting cold, and he felt too frustrated and too bored to walk all the way back home. Hopefully, he'd be ablt to slip past the magic controllant and onto the train without too much of a fuss.
     
  5. Gjerdev Ankarus

    Gjerdev Ankarus New Member

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    For a full and complete hour Syvian stared through thoughtless eyes at the northern horizon, before making a single motion of progress. He'd gathered all he'd need to get to Stillwater, and would make acquaintance with a friend from Arland who'd helped him in the past. A foul and untrustworthy orc called Blir. This orc, as it happens, owed him quite a favour, however.

    He'd wired ahead some days ago about his plan, and Blir received the message via a trusted messenger from Stillwater. As he thought on this, Syvian felt quite lucky to have the connections he did. He managed to make this good feeling last quite a while, before forcing himself to realize why he'd faked his death to begin with.

    At the end of the first night of travel, Syvian lie beside his stolen horse and watched the stars, that blank expression covering his face. He thought about all those involved in his ploy, and thanked himself for being clever enough not to reveal any great details. The dwarven clan with whom he'd previously made connection, and the orcish tribe with which he'd been associated since he'd first joined Clan Maug, were by nature not quite savvy on rumours of the human world.

    Syvian shuddered as he shut his eyes, praying to Velorian for a miracle. As he opened them, a confused and sorrowful expression took his face, his eyes filled with the faces of his old friends. He cleared his throat, as though to speak, but only swallowed and continued thinking. If I hadn't been born round east Low Dervish, if only I'd been born nearer south Devonshire! If only, then my old friends from childhood would be the same men beside whom I stroll the streets! Or perhaps, if I'd only made allegiances before moving residence.

    If only I'd known what the hell I was doing, if only I'd known the Thieves' Underground would force Pollock and Maug back toward The Boil anyway... If only...

    Syvian derailed this thinking at once, and forced himself to shut his eyes and rest. After a few dozen bemused sighs spread throughout at his inability to sleep, he at long last drifted tranquilly into a dreamless slumber.
     
  6. Xiao_Caity

    Xiao_Caity New Member

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    "The Bangellian Scourge?" Lou's uncle asked incredulously. "You're mad! That sword is just a legend, and a particularly bad one at that!"

    "Not according to the word on the street," Whilloughsby said, smiling smugly. "If enough of the underworld is interested in it, then the rumour is worth looking into. Add to that the fact that even some of our own armed forces may be looking into the rumours, and you have to wonder just how real the tales are."

    "Your armed forces, not mine," her uncle said. "We'll not get involved in something this dangerous and foolish."

    Lou smiled. "Actually, I'd like to follow this up," she said, and both men stared. "What? I'm a spinner of tales, gentlemen, as well as a dancer, and I'd never forgive myself if I gave up on the chance to actually find a legendary magical item!"

    "Well that's settled then!" Whilloughsby said with a grin. "Come with me, my dear. You will accompany me to Tarant, and then I'll arrange for you to travel to Stillwater. My sources suggest this would be a good place to start."

    Crap! Lou thought as she followed the gnome. I hate the cult of Geshtianna!
     
  7. Mesteut

    Mesteut New Member

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    As the "surprise visitor" moved towards the Captain and Mesteut, the crew retreated. The two, however, stood straight. The Captain asked:

    - And why exactly should we list'n to ye, "matey"?
    - Your passenger has wronged us. We don't take kindly to people who belittle our ancestry. It is imperative that you hand him over to me, and return. Then never speak of what has happened here.
    - Ah, but ye see, I don' take kindly to strangers ordering me 'round on me ship.
    - Then you'll pay the price. In blood.

    With a gesture from the figure, the skeletons started moving towards them. Mesteut smirked. "The bonds between the bones are so weak that these things should've never been able to move" he thought, as he fired a few bullets. Between the transfered momenta of the bullets and a more rigid system of natural laws at work, the skeletons broke apart in a dusty cloud of logic.

    "All too easy", Mesteut said. The condescending attitute only made the figure angrier, who in return sent off two streams of pure physical force. The first disarmed him, and the second threw him on his back. Mesteut tried to look up, only to see the figure stand above him, in front of a view of a sandy beach and a delicately built metal fish. A beach and a metal fish?, he thought.

    The figure held out his hand and took aim to his face. A few sparks came out, but nothing else. Then with a loud crack, the figure fell on the floor. The Captain appeared behind the figure, holding a revolver. "I did mean no one orders me round in me ship, eh, friend?", he said.

    Mesteut stood up. He sighed with relief.

    - Always on time, captain.
    - Too bad fer ye, the expedition is ruined. Sorry mate, but tha' crew won't be goin' anywhere but port now.
    - Only logical. If the damned fundamentalists can even find me here, they can find me anywhere along the route. I should probably "disappear", you know, maybe stock up and take myself to the Northern Territories to train myself.
    - Well, ye won' have the Isle to save yer sorry behind again. Tis' a weird place. Savin' our skin or not, I won' be coming along here again, unless something very special comes along.
    - Heh. It has been a pleasure to work with you still, Captain Teach.
    - Same here matey, same here.

    And thus the ship turned around, and set sails back to Ashbury.
     
  8. Rain-Dog

    Rain-Dog Member

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    Tyr stood silently, warming himself by the fire. The night around him was black and cold and he was hungry. He turned around and listened to the stories the travellers were telling. He had grown bored of their company. When he had agreed to join them on their journey from Vooridon to Tarant he didn't realise it would take so long. He and the other adventurers were escorting a Gnomish priest called Jim Halster who was on his way to visit relatives in Tarant. As he stood listening, one particualar story caught his attention. A grim half-orc was telling a story about the Bangellian Scourge.

    Tyr had heard of it before, but never in such detail. Tyr's head was still turning the story around in his head as they all slept. He needed to find out more. When the others woke up the next morning, Tyr was gone and their purses had been slashed. Tyr was already well on his way to Kree.
     
  9. Wolfsbane

    Wolfsbane Well-Known Member

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    Having slammed the door behind him, Viktor threw his jacket onto the kitchen table and proceeded into the living room. He slumped into his favourite armed chair, put his spectacles on the little coffee table beside him, and let out a heavy sigh.

    This really wasn't going as he'd planned. Two full months of researching had given him absolutely nothing, and he had been very thorough. He had even went so far as to issue contact with the most famous of infamous traders in Tarant, the Schuylers, and not even they had been able to help.

    But he couldn't give it up, though. Not now, when he knew he could get it if he just found the right book or scroll with the right content. It wasn't just a myth, it was real, and that blade was just what he needed to shut up those arrogant mouths beloning to his former "schoolmates".

    He gave the book in his lap a disgusted look, but picked it up nevertheless. He would read it again, just to make sure. And then, if it turned out to be what he already knew it was, crap that is, he'd throw it into the fire and never think of it again.

    It didn't take long for him to fall asleep.
     
  10. Rain-Dog

    Rain-Dog Member

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    Tyr listened intently to the old man who sat before him. He was Sviðurr, the tribe elder and guardian of the shrine of Shakar and there was nobody in Kree who held the respect that Sviðurr did. He was telling the story of the Bane of Kree, who was still held in both reverence and fear by the inhabitants of Kree. He told Tyr the story of how the Bane of Kree had slaughtered entire regiments with the Scourge, eventually turning on his own warriors and how it had taken the combined magics of the Elven council to contain him.

    Tyr was already obsessed with the sword. With it, he would be unstoppable, there was no council to oppose him now. However Sviðurr's tale of the Scourge ended at the Bane of Kree's defeat. Where it was now, he couldn't say but his advice was to head to Stillwater, renowned for it's swordsmiths. If anybody could tell Tyr more about the weapon it would be them.

    He had left Kree by the morning, travelling alone and quickly. He thought he could hear the Scourge calling to him. He had to have it...
     
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