Fantasy City Of Evil (Open and Accepting)

[Freshet]

Karl Von Hahnenhorn
Location:Demera Gates -> Inside Demera City

Well, it was plainly obvious that staying outside the city walls was not the priority. After all he needed to gather intel on the city, and while the outskirts would be useful the most important part would be to get inside the bounds of the city. Although there would be use in this land of tepid pools of standing water and human waste, for these damned souls of bodies desperately clinging to life were assuredly not for the city of sin.

With that being decided Karl tromped his way towards the gate more properly than before, now ready to enter.

At the gate there were a set of two warriors, curiously silent as well as stiff, fully clad in black armor. These Pawns, as they were colloquially called, stood menacingly with an occasional point and slow shaking of the head at unwanted individuals who were getting too close to the gate. Every now and again one of the condemned would feel bolder and not depart immediately thus causing the soldiers to draw their short swords. This action caused one of the bolder ones, a woman who was more bone than flesh with various pox scars on her face, to collapse and slowly crawl away through the mud tearing up their meager rags that was called clothes. The warrior released its grip on the short sword and returned to its unending standing position.

But these were not the only protectors of this gate. Set off to the left was a guard, clearly elven due to the pointer ears, with short red hair who was dressed in a black leather tunic, sporting red leather gloves and brown pantaloons and boots. He was lazily sitting on a small stool, with his chin on his fist, and his eyes slowly began shutting before frenetically opening. He began rubbing his eyes, which had several bags under them, and slapped himself a few times to remain awake.

As Karl approached the guard, the elf slowly spread out his legs carving a little trench in the dirt as his eyes focused on the man. “You’re not a poor are you? Menaces to society the poor, taking advantage of the hard work of others and being nothing but misery. Toss a bit of coinage for the King’s favor to make sure you can go in and bathe in the knowledge you’re not a poor. ” The elf slowly rolled his shoulders around as Karl slowly began to open a coin purse and flick over a silver piece to him. The guard took it and began to gnaw on it as if it were a piece of straw to the amusement of Karl.

Crossing his arms and with a continued smirk Karl spoke. "Sooo...”?
The guard stopped gnawing on it as he shoved it behind his ear and thumbed towards the city. “Look I’m not gonna talk your ear off with checks, specially since chances are you’re gonna get it again, you aren’t a poor but...” The elf slovenly flailed his finger to gesture at Karl’s brow. “Ain’t a disease is it?”

“Hmph.” Karl unfurled his arms before tapping against his head. “Mountain-man tradition.” Technically true but not the whole story. But that was surely more than enough to get this man off his back.

The elf slowly nodded before gesturing to the city.

“Cool, if you plan on being here longer than a day you’ll need to go to the Census-taker. Buuut between you and me, lines probably still long so go have a drink before hand.”

Karl Von Hahnenhorn simply nodded wordlessly before entering the city of Demera. Intel would be gathered as how to best destroy the city, then the Iron Spine Company would liberate it. For now Karl simply needed to maintain the charade and make sure his hand wasn’t tipped. Snorting loudly and swallowing some phlegm, Karl glances at the various clusters of buildings and began marching to find a bar.

 

[Freshet]

Houndmaster Tarzu
Location: Demera Harbor

“You know...” drawled out the Houndmaster Tarzu, allowing the inquiry to hang. The display of the slow pacing was hard to notice when Tarzu’s dogs towered over the Halfling, though the dogs would move slightly as they knew the master wanted to be seen doing this.

Tarzu’s current patrol consisted of two sentry dogs and a single scent hound. This time Tarzu was not burdened, at least for now, having to deal with others in the Chivalric Order of Knights of King Amadeus. This was a much appreciated boon after having to do many rounds of the city exterior with new blood of Rooks entering. Tarzu could only take their meaningless chatter, and unbecoming presences for so long without the urge of letting his dogs loose upon them.

The two sentry dogs were lumbering mastiffs with hearty frames, broad withers, very sharp looking teeth which upon closer inspection showed they were serrated, strong paws and claws with sleek black fur. Behind the mass of facial folds which gave them a bit of a dopey look were glowing white eyes. While they did have a friendly looking demeanor it was clear this was more of a sadistic bent of glee.

The scent-hound on the other hand was slender and much closer to the ground, due to stubby legs. Its snout was noticeably elongated and the dog was sporting two black noses. It sharp pointed ears and a coarse pale brown coat. Unlike its peers it did not seem interested in causing violence but rather simply detecting things the master wished of it.

”The term canine does refer to more than the domesticated beast of the dog. The insipid and mentally deficient population will not give it a second thought; so such knowledge falls upon me, or any of the inferior curators beneath me if they wish to yap on, to deliver in moments such as these. Yes, foxes, jackals, dingoes and other such related species do classify as canine.” Tarzu began as he idly cleaned his nails by using his thumbnail to wedge into them. There was a quick side eyed glance as he flicked some blackened remnants, probably a mixture of dirt and fur, from his nails towards an individual, a barrel-chested man sporting a patchwork semblance of a beard with a peculiar stench of vice upon him, left cowering against wheel-barrow of fish on the harbor next to various pieces of cargo, assorted from crates to barrels.

One of these crates were forcefully opened by claw-marks, due to the presence of an outlaw fruit, the Zibeth Casigu. This circular and slightly barbed fruit possesses a hearty pink husk and a soft browned and mushy interior. Some individuals repute that the inner mush can be used in to stop the formation of scarred tissues and instead cultivate a renewed section of flesh. Others say it can produce a powerful barbiturate that could put an boar to sleep. But one thing was certain and this fruit was as strong as a field of corpses in its odor when opened (and to a very surprisingly lesser extent unopened) That, alongside the fact it was illegal, was the only thing Tarzu cared about.

Yet the common parlance of the day does not include these beasts when you speak of canine. Rather the only creature referred to as a canine is the domesticated, or God Forbid feral -“ Tarzu’s small frame instantly shuddered upon thinking of those failures of a noble creature. “ - Dog.”

”Do you know why that is?” Tarzu quickly raised his finger and sneered, giving a ‘tut-tut’ wag. ”Of course you do not. I was speaking rhetorically.”

The Halfling walked towards the man cowering and pointed for him to get down on his knees. Quivering the man complied, before Tarzu simply looked towards his sentry dogs who violently lunged on the man and began gnawing through his torso and limbs. Any shriek was quickly cut short as the dogs did their damage and Tarzu whistles for them to return after of course marking the target with a 'new scent' to demonstrate his place.

”And you will not. You are not worthy of even being a living thing - let alone be in the discussion of my dogs. You will lay there, not that you have many options to escape, and be picked up for a summary execution by one of the other knights. You aren’t fit to be carried to your demise by my beasts.”

With that stated the Halfling moved from that section of the harbor with his scent-hound taking the vanguard to sniff for any other undesirable and illegal shipments trying to come in, while the mastiffs flanked the master with a large panting smile plastered on their face. Tarzu meanwhile occupied his mind with whom had sent the cargo and who was to receive it.

Those individuals might have purchased a lucky ticket to dying by dog.

 

[frenchie.]

Y’isvia Andr’marzes Mavxius

Morning. Business District Tavern. Demera.

Marzes watched with a mild horror masked with friendly composure as Rebecca downed drink after drink at the bar. They were a solidly heavy drinker themselves - having handled their fair share of ale as far back as their early teens - but watching what looked outwardly to be a simple peasant girl knocking back the amount of alcohol she did was truly impressive… And something to take note of, just in case…

“You can say that again,” the demon spawn hisses, tail flicking in anger at the mention of the king, “It hasn’t been long, but he’s already royally messed up Demera beyond an easy repair. I hate to say such terrible things about the oh so good King Maxwell the First, but its undeniable.”

Marzes polished off his first drink just in time for Rebecca to order more, smirking at her reaction to his statement behind his glass.

“Why how dare you Miss Rebecca! You assume too little of me!” The demon-spawn exclaimed, faking a shocked and hurt look. “All I want is some company for a while after.. I don’t require you do do anything out of your comfort zone, just to accompany me on whatever escapades I happen to get into while we stay in Demera.”

Marzes stands from their seat, stretching out their back and shoulders, twisting roughly until all the pops and cracks were gone.

“I must thank you again for the drinks, my dear,” They say with a yawn. Finally, Marzes reached their arm out, hand open for a shake.

“So, do we have a deal?”

Interacting with: SnowStorm42 ​

code by spidey

 

[SnowStorm42]

Maxwell Amadeus
Location: Between the Marketplace and the Business District

The King on approach noticed that the woman had not noticed him entirely, until he had spoken to her. Almost immediately he could tell she was fumbling on how to act in front of him although he wasn't sure if it was whether or not she met royalty before, or if she didn't know how to act toward the "Tyrant King". She was quick to respond and very formal. He admired that even if, not that he could tell, she held resentment for him within. Admiration did not mean forgiveness though and all laws in his kingdom were to be held with no exception.

However the woman began to explain how the goblin boy was returning her money pouch to her. Immediately the demon king's evil eyes wandered over to the goblin who was now slightly hidden behind the woman. Her statement meant two things. The boy stole the pouch, or found the pouch and returned it. A part of Maxwell knew which of the two it was. The boy looked like he was capable of the first option. Privy to the crowd that was watching in suspense, Maxwell thought maybe this would look good for public opinion. Word was bound to spread like wildfire of the king showing kindness, grace, and respect.

Maxwell took two more steps closer to the boy and bent down on one knee to be on eye level. The civilians who watched, seemed to emit horror, having heard the rumors. However, Maxwell put his hand on the boy's head, and smiled. "What a kind lad. A penny is deserved for your kindness to this woman" Maxwell said, removing his hand and reaching for another pouch of coins from his belt.

He took the goblin boy's hand while the woman continued, and placed the pouch in the goblin boy's hands. "A healer eh? It is very hard to find many healers in Demera. After my laws banned some items, many dropped the profession, but it's a good one" Maxwell said to the woman while rising back up into standing, while meeting her eyes. His red irises pierced with evil, but his smile was a genuine one.

"Perhaps you could accompany me to the Shops District. I'm not quite informed on what ingredients I may need for healing my men...Ms."

Spoiler

Shaded

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rebecca
Location: Tavern, Business District

Rebecca listened as the demon sarcastically took jabs at the King. She chuckled a bit, but in her mind she was still upset at the thought of the king. He sounded like a menace. She trailed off a bit in thought and wondered what it was that her father had sent her here for. Why would he suggest coming to a place as horrible as this? Although..two years. Perhaps her father had not known that this would be the state of the kingdom by the time she got here. Regardless this wasn't a place she would want to stay long. Perhaps she would only stay temporarily.

Rebecca snapped back to, when the demon started to speak again. She couldn't help but snicker. "I apologize. I did not mean to think little of you..but so far Demera has not had many great first impressions" Rebecca said glancing back over at the green demon from earlier, who seemed to have resumed with their comrades as if nothing ever happened. She continued to listen to his offer. Seemed fair enough, Clearly the demon had no ill intent if he spared her from trouble, by telling her not to use her magic. Furthermore a tour guide and friend never hurt in uncharted territory.

She watched as the red creature stood and smiled, her face still pink, and shook their hand. "You've got a deal. Consider me you entertainment for the rest of the day" Rebecca said with a smile. As Rebecca released from their shake though, she got a feeling, and glanced around the tavern. She had the feeling when she entered town but brushed it off as nerves towards entering this foreign kingdom. However now she was a bit intoxicated and the feeling remained, like she was being watched by someone other than the demon.

She quickly dismantled this feeling, and assumed that perhaps the barkeep had given her their strongest toxins. Reaching for a pouch she removed some coins from it and placed it in front of the barkeep. "No matter how long I stay consider me your new regular" Rebecca said with a wink to the barkeep. With that her attention returned to the red demon. "Now, lead the charge..er..uh" Rebecca stumbled for a moment and realized she had introduced herself, but never asked for the demon's name. "How rude, I never asked for your name"

Spoiler

frenchie.

 

[Freshet]

Karl Von Hahnenhorn
Location: The Feral Flower Inn
Interactions: Voile Ineptitude |Yeniceri EkoEkoAzarak |Grimmis Blackfinger DrBones

Karl Von Hahnenhorn let out an incredulous scoff as he stared cock-eyed at the exterior of the establishment. It was clear his fixation was on the sign, and if one were tracking his pupils that it was intently focused on the name. Shoving open the door, and holding it open briefly for the two black armored clad individuals and a rather limp man they were near, Karl Von Hahnenhorn swaggered in as he took seat at the nearest available section of the bar.

The Master of the Barbarian Bandits took a moment to examine the crowd. It was deathly silent. Most of the tavern folk appeared rather skittish and silent for this type of establishment. All that was heard was the brief slurps of drinking but they all appeared rather gloomy. None particularly drew his interest, however there was a man on the verge of death, some beast looking man in the search of a daily feast probably, and another armor clad individual who properly reeked of death.

His fingers rattled against the table with an incessant tapping for a few moments as Karl stared annoyed at those around him. This was quickly followed by a quick slam with his fist as stood up and bellowed out.

“THIS IS AN ESTABLISHMENT BASED AROUND MIRTH. BE MIRTHFUL AND JOYOUS; THIS OVERWHELMING SILENCE CANNOT STAND. I DECLARE IT SO!” Karl Von Hahnenhorn continued to flare out his nostrils as he reached out into his coin-purse and slammed a few more coins down onto the table as he reached over to grab someone and pull them to collect the pay.

“SERVANT WENCH, A ROUND, A ROUND FOR THE HOUSE! Tankard, large and frothy for mine.” This was followed by a hearty smack at individual’s lower back and a knowing stare. Karl sat back down to the great cheers of the drinking and eating public, who were now not nearly as concerned with an audit by the taskmasters of the Tyrant as if they died now they at least died while enjoying shit on someone else’s dime. Stretching out his fingers and back before returning upright Karl glanced around before tapping against the bar.

“And why is flower feral?”
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
Houndmaster Tarzu
Location: Demera Harbor

“You are a good boy. I have deemed it so.” Tarzu remarked as he pat his scent hound on the head. It was a quick and simple pet, really more of a tap, but it caused the hound to be in complete bliss. He was staring with saucer like eyes and quickly rolling into his stomach with his tongue laying on the dock. The two sentry mastiff turned their heads and stared forlornly at their master while lowering their heads, tails tucked between their legs.

Had they disappointed the Alpha? That was likely the case; they were not being rewarded like the sniffer. That led them to the question of how they displeased him. Were they too quick in administering righteous mauling on the smuggler? Maybe they tore up the crate improperly? It could have been anything they did that slighted the Houndmaster. But one thought lingered in their mind. They dreaded the possibility that they were not, in fact, good dogs. Such a judgment was only to be decided from the lips of the alpha; the two dogs hoped they would be deemed worthy of such an honorific.

Tarzu stared at the mastiffs as his hand raised off the hound, who stayed in the submissive position. The mastiffs kept their position but their eyes gazed at Tarzu with a more soulful expression. The Halfling knew what they were doing. They were playing at his vulnerability, his soft heart. To think his canines had the nerve to try such an audacious stunt in begging for their master’s love earlier than he was willing to give it.

He taught those bitches and bastards well.

”I did not forget you girls. After all...” This was followed to a gesticulation to two fishermen who were laying on their backs with bloodied faces; the scent of salt water on the breeze masked it slightly.

These two were even more criminals that Tarzu caught in their illicit acts. Their poles, which were utilizing an illegal hook type, were as bloodied as the waters beneath that these men were fishing at. Some would say Tarzu’s judgment was inhumane. However, all things considered as this crime was alongside a further offense, namely illegal fishing due to the fact these waters were not the ones they were given the rights to fish in, Tarzu was ‘quite benevolent’ in not outright murdering them slowly on the spot.

The mastiffs wordlessly accepted their role and kept their heads bent in submission. They knew the sweet embrace of the master was near, it was obvious in his tone. Tarzu reached up, standing on his toes slightly, to scratch once, no more and no less, at the ears of his sentry forces. ”You are good girls. I have deemed it so.”

These dogs too stuck out their tongues and gazed off in bliss as one of the fishermen coughed up some blood in a louder manner than before. This drew the attention of Tarzu, his beasts were still in the ecstasy of affection, whose eyebrow flickered and teeth gnashed.

”Such imprudence! You DARE to disrupt my rewarding process towards my beasts?!” Lowering down from his stance, he snapped his fingers and Tarzu glanced towards his beasts.

A smile was curling up slightly.

”You three shall get early treats. Rip out their ears, tongues and noses. Do not touch the eyes for they must witness the results of their misdeeds.” With that the sentry mastiffs licked their chops as they lunged upon the men, as the scent hound followed behind to wait for their share of the grubbing. There were only two low gurgling sounds as the dogs struck as Tarzu kept a small smile, his arms folded, as he watched the sight and reflected on things.

Today was looking to be a good day for Tarzu; there was much villainy afoot in the harbors and most assuredly within the walls of Demera. Perhaps people were viewing the rightful king as soft? Tarzu cared little for why the increase in dissidence was occurring but was glad for it to the extent that it made it much easier to apply his beasts more liberally onto the populace.

 

[Shaded]

Silvia Brandt
Location: Market Place — Business District
Interaction: King Maxwell Amadeus SnowStorm42

Sinister. Yes, he was sinister, the entire interaction—his presence was mere trouble. As of late everything was trouble, gathering herbs or specialized ingredients were practically a major ‘no-no’ to the world within Demera. Now, just when she was dropping off a little mix of herbs she was robbed, then when she got her pouch back she had to be in the lime light with the very being she had an inkling of dislike for. Possibly more than an inkling. Silvia wasn’t always so judgy, an eye watching every movement someone had, so as her blue hues snapped to his hand as he placed it on the boy’s head—she visibly exhaled and didn’t deny that she was judging his movements carefully. Had he bought it?

The half nymph woman was very much so on edge, his words far from accommodating to her ears. It was like he was feigning the appreciation for the child’s deeds—yes, the deeds that weren’t exactly truthful. Silvia couldn’t help the cloud of doubt that swarmed her, her ears gone void of hearing anything as her mind turned and twisted. What if’s swarmed her inner thoughts, was he going to fake it? Would he hunt the pair of them down—the boy for stealing and her for lying to him to his face? He was going to kill them, yes, that would make the most sense. Yes—the look in his eyes seemed to explain trouble for Silvia, so yes he was going to kill—strike up idle conversation? If the looks of the observers weren’t enough, Silvia looked like a fish out of water—eyes wide and mouth struggling to make a noise, her expression alone would explain the emotions rumbling through her head.

The fair haired girl watched as he handed the goblin boy a few coins and then gathered himself to respond to her previous ramble of being a healer. He made a very accurate comment, many healers left when the bans came about, when their work was limited. Healers were fickle in their professions, they liked things a certain way and Silvia could be equally as picky. Her herb stores had to be organized in their drawers and mason jars the way she liked it. Gods forbid anyone dare touch her mortar and pestle, so she understood why many were lacking in the city kingdom as large as it was. To say the least, Silvia was a tad bit lenient in this aspect—not enough to overlook the deeds done though. So many were angry with the limits and ended up quitting, personally she was a bit perturbed with the quitters, healing was difficult now but not impossible. Silvia was bitter, not with the king about this but the healers throwing a tantrum about it.

She could split the blame, but her irritation wasn’t on the king about the lack of healers, surprisingly. Even so, she had a few comments that could slip out so she bit her tongue and swallowed back her words, at least the ones that could land her in trouble. “Yes, it is a dying profession, nothing to be done about it now, your majesty,” she dipped her head again, there was that glimmer in her eye as she stood there stiffly. Her words were true, the damage was done so it could be difficult to an extent to repair.

She blinked, her blue hues disappearing before reappearing as his words were vaguely angled towards her—well, who else was he talking to? That’s what crossed her mind, she had hoped he would walk away leaving in some kind of calm pace. One can dream, and that dream was quite impossible to occur with when the brute gave her an invitation to aid his shopping for medicinal herbs and ingredients. Only a fool would reject it, and Silvia wasn’t too far gone to be considered one just yet. She may have a dislike as large as the sea for the man, but she couldn’t say no either, but she doubted he really needed her help. He had to have some kind of idea of what he needed to heal his men—but rather than overthink the last few moments of her life, Silvia would rather bask in the fact she was alive before the king and his men decided to end it.

“Silvia Brandt,” she introduced herself, her eyes avoiding him entirely but still hovering around the area around her. The child wasn’t on her thoughts any longer while the currently reigning tyrant was in front of her. “I can’t say no to a king, so I’ll be glad to help, your majesty. Don’t mind my asking, but what kind of wounds would you like to treat your men for? It’ll help to know what you might need to do so,” she never thought she’d address the brute so politely as she had been, nor did she expect him to care for his men enough to purchase the best wares to heal them. Silvia was expecting her resolve to crack and for her to speak her mind, that usually happened but maybe all those lessons drilled into her thick skull were paying off. Or it was just the fear of the situation she was in keeping her in check, then there was also the little—the faintest and tiniest voice muttering he didn’t seem so bad, just his political views aided with the mounds of rules that kept his reputation so bitter. He had given the goblin a coin or two, even thanked him for returning the pouch. The only way to describe herself would be to say she was on edge, keeping her head lowered and hands clasped in front of her promptly.​

 

[EkoEkoAzarak]

Yeniceri
Location: Business District // The Feral Flower Inn
Interactions: Ineptitude DrBones Freshet
​

While the innkeeper's helpful attitude was much appreciated by the knight, the number of staff he claimed to have was quite suspicious. Twenty werewolves plus the temporary staff. "Yes, I believe I do need you to call them. All of them, even the pups." She stroked her chin with her free hand before continuing. "Yes, especially the pups." This time her voice contained a hint of excitement. Unprofessional yes, but it was hard to control when children were involved. She had always wanted to spend time with children, at least as far as she could think back which wasn't exactly a long stretch, but her duties kept her from having the time she would want. That and children feared her for a multitude of reasons.

While she was distracted a large, wild man entered the inn and his booming voice was enough to steal the focus of the other patrons away from the knights and it was easy to understand why. His voice was that of a powerful man that was always in control, not because of any real desire for it but because it was just the natural state of things. It was an animalistic sort of control, like that of a pack's alpha, which seemed ironic considering where he was at the moment. But, for Yeniceri, it was the voice of a man that got the drop on her which is not something that should happen. She spun quickly to face the man as her grip on her sword tightened, but despite this quick response, her face remained impassive. "You. Outsider. Come here." While she couldn't know everyone that dwelled within the city, it was obvious he wasn't from anywhere near the city. Even disregarding the strange garb, he was too proud to have survived this long. She would have to correct this now before he became a problem. "Where are you from? What did the gatekeepers tell you about the city's laws?"

 

[Freshet]

Byrdi
Location: Shops District

"Come to Angry Jack’s Surplus Emporium!” chirped Byrdi as her right arm was outstretched waving fliers while her left arm was desperately hugging a stack of fliers against her dress. The little elf girl was standing off on a street corner where no stalls were, she was told to get bent by a few of them, but the foot-traffic remained fairly high. Those who were traveling through by the sidewalks, individuals of various races, shapes and sizes were united here in at least one thing, ignoring the kid. Most of them were taking the time to at least walk around her, but a few would brush up against her and accidentally knock a flier out of her hand. Whenever this happened Brydi quickly crouched down and tried to collect the paper and offer it to the individual who made the error in spatial judgment during their stroll.

Despite this, Byrdi happened to have a pleasant demeanor upon her face. After all, she was going to get paid a Haycopper piece, half of a standard copper piece, by Angry Jack for each individual who came to his stall bearing one of the fliers he marked for her. Beaming ear to ear she, while keeping herself rooted with her feet staying close together, continued to wave the fliers as she tried to remember the script.

“Angry Jack’s so angry at his current inventory he’s slashing prices in half! Blood bags for five pieces of copper! Nail of Lampago for only a Haycopper an’a half! These and much, much, much more! Deals are waiting for you!” Byrdi swiveled herself from side to side as she continued to wave her fliers, and in the process her hand bumped into a rather ornery looking man.

With a gleam in her eye Byrdi looked up at the man, “Hello sir would you like a fl-?” Before she could even ask the inquiry regarding if the man wanted a flier or not, she was shoved slightly causing her to stumble and drop the rest of her fliers. The man walked off shaking his head and grumbling about the damn youth of today. Brushing herself off Byrdi looked down at her dress to see if it got scuffed up, after all a good hawker needed to look presentable.

“At least there isn’t a- M-MY FLIERS!” The young elf’s mouth was agape as she began frantically looking around as she saw papers flying in all directions. Angry Jack would be so angry if he heard that Byrdi lost ALL of her fliers! Maybe he wouldn’t even pay her for the ones she brought in with a flier! Not wanting to lose out on a paycheck, after all who would want to miss out on coins they worked for, Byrdi began rushing after the papers which were blowing quite fast and free among the gust.