Dragonblood [RP]

Heartsteal

Heartsteal

That guy who's not around much right now
The elf looked terribly out of place, sitting in the mud with his dignified posture, pretending not to notice the cold wet earth staining his expensive ermine skin cloak. The Jout clan was by no means a large one, but they'd been known as one of the friendliest to outsiders. Probably the very same reason the inquisitor had come to seek them out for a guide. It always took field practice to travel through hostile territory safely, and more often than not, the ability to travel through the wilds. No one was better than those things than the da'khor, seeing as they were actively hunted by many, and still moved around regularly. 'Hiring' one of the canine people was much more difficult than employing a more civil race; since they had little concept of currency. The elf was unfortunately, at least in his opinion, on the short end of the stick to this deal. The best he'd been able to convince the clan to do, was send a pup along to guide him, in exchange to free reign over the wilderness within an entire league around Linton. Refusing would be challenging the clan leader to a battle to the death, and even if he could win, it would get him nowhere.


"What your name skinny?" the leader asked in broken common. He'd held his position long then, common was taught to their children now to accompany their own language.
 
Skinny!? Doesn't this mongrel know who it's talking to!? Marit Lage,the Grand Inquisitor of the Linton region,was a proud elf. In his mind,elves are the master race,and all others should be their slaves. Or dead. However,at this moment in time,Marit wasn't in a position of power. So,he had to handle this situation with care.


"I am Marit Lage,Chiefetain. I'm honoured by your presence." He was passively probing the chiefetain's mind to help him with this negotiation;one wrong word and he's a dead elf.
 
"Shut your fancy mouth skinny!" the clan leader almost shouted at the elf as her rose to stand. The way this inquisitor spoke just got under his skin. It was a lucky thing that he'd even considered sending the youngling to help in this journey. It was something of a test, let the cub go out and learn of the others, and return to see what he thought of them after some exposure.


"Det!" he shouted, turning toward a cluster of his people as they'd gathered for a meal. This one was promising, and he had initiative. Instead of groaning like most other cubs do about hunger, he went out and caught himself a deer; and been mindful enough of his clan to haul the carcass back.


The youth in question came jogging over, his maw still bloody from the fresh kill. The clan head spoke a few words in the native tongue, and let Det sit to speak with the elf.


"So I am to guide you skinny?" he asked with a curious glint in his eye. The sight was a little bit unsettling with the relatively cheerful, bloodsoaked expression just inches away from the inquisitor.


(I haven't really told everyone where this is going yet, so for a first post, just introduce your character basically in their average day-to-day)
 
Charming. It looks like a zombie gone wrong. Marit nodded. He noted to the pup, "The societies we'll be going to will...Frown...Upon having fresh blood on your mouth." He looked to the chief,and bowed deeply from his sitting position. "Thank you. He will return safely." These creatures are revolting...
 
"Let 'em think what they want," Det replied, licking his chops.


"Wherever we're going, it should be soon or I'm going to finish off that deer."


Glancing back at the bowing elf, the chieftan chuckled a little.


"I'm not worried about him you worm."
 
The dwarf strolled through the richly decorated hall, but his mind was not on the gemstones or the silver. He responded to both friendly and punctual greetings with nods and waves. It was important to stay alert when you were talked to, as one could always use extra information; but today was an exception.


"Odkurvi!" he heard. "What news from above?"


He had many acquaintances, but he placed this one by voice and the informal use of his first name. An important landlord. "The same," he grunted. "All the leaders are halfhearted, won't make up their mind."


He hmphed to himself afterwards. All the landlord cared about that was the influx- or decrease- of guests in his lands, if the rulers declared open war.


"Dottïr!" the dwarf heard again from a different direction. His surname. With a sigh, he turned towards the voice. Being a chief advisor came with its pros and cons. Pro, he could influence the entire kingdom. Con, everyone relied on him as a messenger from the outside world to the secluded capital Aelburn.


After answering a few redundant questions about the state of the dwarves' supply counts, the chief advisor turned down a slightly less busy corridor, where he could hear his own thoughts. He was thinking about the young loner he had questioned the day before. Gartod had been his name, Dolkar Gartod; he was only about 40 years of age, hardly more than an adolescent, but he had been very capable. Isolated in the wild after a major mining accident (46 casualties, he thought grimly), the dwarf had lived as a loner and only just re-established communications with the society. Yet... He had had no more family.


The lad's personality had impressed him. Not every child, left alone in the wild, could survive and come back thriving. Yet, that's what Dolkar had done. He had gone back to continue living as a loner, saying he was no longer part of the society....


But some things he had said had been interesting. He had seen many things from outside that the dwarf scouts had missed, even noting bands of da'khor- the enemy- that he had not been aware of. A troop of dwarves had been immediately tasked with monitoring this area, and it may have well prevented a disaster. Several aboveground villages were near there.


"Odkurvi Dottïr!" he heard. Snarling, he spun on his heels to hear the newest dwarf.


"What is it," he replied, irritably.


"The king sends a message, that has moved the council to Thursday morn!" the young dwarf exclaimed. It was a messenger.


His eyes narrowed. "You are dismissed," he told the child, who ran off.


Odkurvi turned and strode towards his private chambers, shifting dates and times in his head. Typical of the king to announce such a change so close to the actual date.
 
Valeria sat up in her room in front of her mirror. She brushed her long, white hair then tied it back with a blue ribbion. She went into her closet and picked out a white silk dress and pulled it on. Valeria was the daughter of the LeCross family; one of the wealthest elven families in the city and she was the heir to the fortune. Unlike her parents, she did not act like how her parents did towards the other species. Her parents thought that elves were superior and the other species were inferior. Valeria was curious about the other races, wanting to find out whatever she could about them. ((sorry, I have no idea what else to post))
 
Marit nodded. They think they own the world. How wrong they are. He stood up,and addressed the chief. Time to appeal to their "culture". "I was showing respect,Chief. My people do this to those who lead,as it's their right. You've earned my respect. However much,or little,it means to you." He stood up,and given his cloak a shake,knocking the loose mud to the ground. His armour,mainly gold,with dim emerald pauldrons,ivory hanging thigh plates,dark brown scaled tabbard,silver fingers and siler sides to the helmet. His waist sported a belt,which served to hold his small belongings. "As agreed,your people may operate within a league of the city of Linton. But your people may not enter the city without an armed escort."


Although his armour looked as if it were made of gold,it,in fact,was made of the secret elven metal,lighter than any other metal,but far sturdier than even steel. He taken a step backwards,then pivoted on his toe in the next step,and said to the pup, "No time like the present." He strode to the outskirts of the encampment,and was unsurprised to see that one of the Da'Khor found his skyhook. He had left it a small distance from the encampment,as he wanted to approach them unarmed. He strode to the Da'Khor,and plucked his weapon from the ground. Their society disapproved of weaponry,so they didn't make a fuss. He had,however,heard a chuckle as he plucked it up. He tactfully ignored it; his life hinged on it,no doubt.
 
"Miss Valeria, do you plan on keeping your appointments today, or should I call ahead and cancel them?" a familiar voice asked; the family's prime servant, a middle-aged human man.


Of course he referred to her scheduled trip to the lesser parts of Linton. Despite being the human capital city, it was still ruled over by the elves. Even the mayor was of elven descent. Despite her near constant protests, Valeria's parents quite disliked her visits to other parts of the city, and her involvement with the lesser beings.


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At the elf's response, the chief thought him lucky that the smell of fresh meat had gotten his attention. Were it not for that, he never would have stood for the insult upon their culture, and torn him to shreds for their next meal.


"What reason would we have to mingle with such slippery maggots?" he said dismissively, waving the elf away.


"Well, where are we going then?" Det asked as he easily kept pace with the elf. When the weapon was uncovered, he almost laughed.


"Y'know, everyone said you would've hidden one somewhere. After all, the smell is stuck tight to your hand."
 
Marit nearly lost a step at the cub's comment. I'm wearing armour! How did they...? These beasts are predators,to be certain... "I always travel armed. However,I didn't wish to approach your people armed. We'll be headed to the city of Linton. You'll be with me,so you won't be given any trouble. However,I doubt trouble would be a problem for you. There are some dignitaries we need to round up. Diplomacy is a convoluted thing." He sighed. "Why was I sent on this errand when I could be gutting dark mages and dissidents?"
 
Valeria looked over at the servent. His sudden appearance had startled her, but she quickly recovered. "Yes, I am planning on leavimg momentarity." she told him. She grabbed her blue cloak out of the closet and filled her moneybag with a few coins. She always kept money on her in case she ever needed it. "Okay, I'm ready to go." She walked out of her room and down the doubled staircase in her family's manor. There were a few servents who smiled at Valeria as she walked past. Her parents, as normal, were not around. They were usually too busy with their work for their daughter. This made it easier for her to slip out of the manor. She walked out the door and made her way down to the lower part of the city.
 
When the elf went off explaining things, Det just tuned him out, and the instant the knife-ear shut his mouth the pup chimed in with a "You make it sound like I'm listening. I'm amazed at your pompousness... betcha didn't think I knew that word huh hairless?"


This could get to be a long trip if the elf didn't learn when to shut up.


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"Of course miss. Will you be bringing an escort this time? Or will you be going alone again," the last part he stated more than asked. Despite his demeanor, the human seemed to understand Valeria well enough, and had, on a few occasions, stood up in her defense at one of her mother's many lectures. Of course standing against your employer was ever without consequence, especially when they were an elf. If one of their Da'khor slaves had done the same, they would've been killed for it. If ever there were a reason that the young elf girl felt pity for the lesser races, it was probably her parents' taste in servants.
 
"I think I will go alone today." Valeria replied. She did appreciate having an escort sometimes, but also disliked it at the same time. She felt like she was being a bother to the escort. Valeria left the manor and walked to the lower part of the city. When she arrived she saw a human mother in rags holding a small toddler. Both were very skinny and covered in filth. She walked over to them and gave them a few coins. "Here, go buy you and your child a hot meal." The woman thanked Valeria as she walked away.
 
Odkurvi strode out of his quarters, looking decidedly more fresh but not exactly dressed up. He walked a fine line when he interacted with the king; but the dwarf appeared to have exceptional balance.


He managed to shrug off questions and inquiries from passerby as he travelled the corridors, using the excuse that he had an important meeting. Which was true. He was headed to the heart of Aelburn, where the keep was situated; it was in the cavern of The Hollow Mountain, or Dü Rhieth as it was called in the dwarven language. A huge cave stretched through the majority of Dü Rhieth, hence the name, and the keep was built in the very center. Small buildings occupied the outskirts.


Presently, he emerged from the gem-tiled halls onto the cave's dirt roads. He nodded amiably to the few dwarves who had built homes inside of the hollow mountain as he walked briskly by, but didn't stop to speak to any of them. As far as he could tell, he was late.


He noticed a caravan travelling along a different path towards the keep in the distance, sporting the pendant of other, distant lands. This was a very important council indeed if all the dwarf leaders had been invited; Odkurvi quickened his pace.


Several nods and more than a few potholes later, the chief advisor was at the gold-fringed gate of the keep. Letting himself be known to the watchdwarves, he waited impatiently for the gates to open- smoothly, but slowly. Greeted by a few salutes from passing upper-class, Odkurvi let himself in through a side door and made his way to the councils chamber. He ignored the tapestries, and the lavish decorations of the king's hall; and pushed through grand double-doors into the chamber.


Dwarven leaders of all nationalities sat around the long table, the smaller and less important lords given seats further away from the king's. Representatives from all 13 mansions were present. The only one absent was the monarch himself.


Odkurvi regarded the empty throne- and the visiting leaders- unemotionally, nodding to the lords he knew best. It figured the kind would order an early meeting, only to show up late.


He had only taken his place right of the king's throne when the lord of the Knorll mansion spoke. "The king is late once more?" he asked, in a cool but sarcastic voice.


"He is delayed," responded the chief advisor, narrowing his eyes. He had never liked Knorll. Too stuck-up.


As if on cue, the king himself pushed open the entrance doors and strode in. His secretary scurried behind, holding an amalgamation of sheets and scrolls. "Welcome, lords, from every mansion" he boomed, settling himself on his throne. The secretary stood nervously behind Odkurvi, as if hiding. The king leaned forward on the polished table; "Thank you all for coming."


There was a general murmur of "Think not of it" and "You honor us, Your Majesty" from the assembled lords.


"Now," said the king, "I must skip formalities and show you what exactly is threatening our kingdom. Squakor!" he called as he straightened.


The secretary- Squakor, apparently- fumbled with his sheets, dropping a few pens, and handed to the king a yellowed scroll. His Majesty unrolled it and read aloud.


"This is a report from the outlying villages of Normen, Carvenill, and Dassandy. There has been numerous raids from the da'khor-" here there was a murmered gasp from the lords- "And numerous casualties. I will not bore you with the numbers, but the wolfmen's attacks have been increasing in quantity and severity! We have been asked to sit passively by the elves, but I question their decision every day. Surely they want nothing more than to have us weakened? Pakker!"


A dwarf close to the throne straightened. "Yes, your majesty?"


"We have heard of raids on your land as well! What say you?"


"Oh, yes, sire," the dwarf babbled, "there have been raids. Raids, raids every day! And it's all the da'khor! We find them everywhere!"


At this the other lords began to grab for attention as well. Their mansions were also being overtaken, they were also plagued by the da'khor.


"Enough!" roared the king. "I see you agree with my reportings! The question is, what do we do?"


Odkurvi regarded the council quietly. He knew for a fact that Pakker's mansion had suffered from the da'khor only three raids in the past month. All the lords, he decided once more, were imbeciles.


There were others, of course. Of the 13 lords, 5 had not jumped at the word "da'khor." These dwarves stayed calm- like he- and respectful. They would not plunge their mansions into war, he know already. It would cost more than it would reap. Even the king was delusional about the da'khor.


He knew, however, there was no sidetracking His Majesty. Odkurvi was listened to when the king asked for him, no more. And in this, he had already tried to dissuade the ruler.


"Squakor," he muttered behind him to the secretary, "Go and bid the lords Oman, Loker, Ptötm, Rhin, and Herciles to meet in the lesser council chamber at twelve noon. The king's chief advisor would like to confer with them."


The small dwarf nodded quickly, and sped away down the table. The other lords hardly noticed, roused as they were by the prospects of war against the wolfmen.


"Squakor, the map!" called the king, not looking back.


Odkurvi, who had stolen that certain scroll from the secretary's pile earlier, handed it to the king.


"And a quill!"


The chief advisor gave him the pen and ink he had also taken from Squakor.


He watched His Majesty go back to discussing tactics with the crowd. The king was so predictable.
 
Dolkar made his way out of the town of Linton, using his warhammer almost as a crutch. "Gah, the damned smell of fish. By the stone, the smell will never leave me, will it?" Dolkar wretched from the smell of the town, and the humans that lived in it. "Stones, in the end maybe I best stick to earth. We were never meant to live above ground." He pulled out a water canteen, but what was in it was anything but water. It was 160 proof brew, his own mix, strong enough to knock most people out with just the smell. A swig would kill anything but a dwarf, and even most of the stout people would have a hard time with this drink. Dolkar brought the canteen to his mouth, and downed the whole thing. He continued on his way, deciding to stop by the exile's village before heading underground again. Dwarves who committed high crimes were often put to death, but sometimes they were exiled instead, sent to live on the surface. Dolkar never knew if all dwarves followed this practice, or just his tribe, but none the less a small group of exiles lived not far from an entrance underground. "I wonder how Guldi is doing," Dolkar wondered as he continued to make his way east.
 
Marit sighed in disgust. "Your flippancy is getting tiresome. Keep up." Marit Lage conjured pockets of wind under his feet and a strong wind at his back,and began to speed off towards Linton. He had no doubt that the revolting mutt would be able to easily keep pace,and would look down on him for it. He easily glided over the terrain,and the walls of Linton quickly came into view.
 
Speeding up to a loping stride, with barely any effort.


"Well, I can't say I expected more from you baldy," the pup continued, continuing his flippancy despite the warning, if one could call it that.


When the walls came into sight, Det was tempted to growl a little, and probably did. The humans had always had a special dislike for his people, claiming they were 'feral', and 'unreasonable'. When he found whoever it was that had said such things he'd tear them open to feast on their innards; just let them see how unreasonable their betters were.


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(Sorry Sage, I got nothin')
 
Marit was sorely tempted to bludgeon the pup over the head with the end of his weapon. However,even a young Da'Khor is a significant threat to him,if he angred it. He,instead,said, "My name is Marit Lage. Address me as such,instead of your racial slurs. And what is your name,youngling?" The walls of Linton were very close now. He turned to go around,as the main gates were on the other side of the city,by the harbour.
 
Someone was watching Marit. He had been walking for a while. Unsure of what was going on, but draco was hiding. He sighed quietly somewhat confused. He looked around quickly before deciding maybe he should leave. He quietly tried to sneak away. He wasn't to sure about the others he had seen. Being just a human. He looked around quickly and then dashed off unsure of where he was.
 
When the inquisitor insisted on the use of his name, Det was about to reply with yet more racial slurs when their little follower tried to leave. The sounds and smells of a careless human in his territory were easy to spot, and without a word he ran them down, dropping to all fours in a sprint. No doubt the elf would have some colourful words for such a sudden departure, though the Da'khor really didn't care much about that.


A savage growl left Det's lips as he quickly closed on the culprit, it didn't matter who this was, unless they could explain what they were doing fast, they'd be in for a thrashing.


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Down in Linton's slums, it was uncommon to see an elf, to say the least. Normally the smell of rotting fish turned them away from the docks in a hurry; but when they did come down, it was almost always on business. One thing was for certain, and that was that elves had money. When the young noblewoman gave some change to one of the beggars, it was for certain, and she had no guards with her; excellent. Four of the city's seedier residents had been watching the girl from alleyways and behind market stalls. She was the perfect target for someone of their status, a kidnapping, not only could they get some decent cash off her, they could even ransom her off to the upperclass for a veritable fortune. Though the knife-eared people made up the ruling class, and significant majority amongst the civilized peoples; it did not protect them from harm. In fact, sometimes it worked against them as desperate humans, and occasionally dwarves, would look upon them as easy targets with their generally soft nature after not doing any real work for themselves.


When the poor mother scurried off with the money, the crooks struck, melting out of the shadows to surround the noblewoman; most of the nearby citizens fled at their appearance.


"Look knife-ears, yer comin' with us!" one of them drawled, obviously the face of a sailor down on his luck. Two of the others were probably shipmates of his, but the fourth human was a mystery, wearing what looked like new clothes, from the richer parts of the city. He must have been the one that showed the others of the life of crime.
 
Draco stopped hearing the sounds of dirt being flung in the air, hearing the large booms of a four leged creature running. He turned around. "Oh crap!" He suddenly ran again. "Darn it why did I have to get lost!" He cried out fearing his life. He grabbed his sword which was his only sorce of protection. He pulled it out and then jumpped slaming the sword into the tree. He lifted himself up and then jumped to a branch pulling his sword out. He looked down at the creature terrified.
 
"You left the city human, this is Jout clan territory!" the da'khor shouted up the tree after the man in question. It was tempting to climb the tree after him, but being a cowardly human, the sword could be his undoing; so he contented himself to waiting, snarling up at the weakling, occasionally taking a gouge out of the bark with his clawed hands. No doubt the paley would be close behind him and try to defend one of his 'loyal subjects' or something like that.


"Come down from there and I might not make soup of your eyes!" the pup shouted colourfully, kicking at the trunk, making the entire tree sway a little.
 
Draco slashed his sword at him. "Back off dude! I just got lost...and no way I'm coming down there with you snapping your fangs at him!" He yelled glaring at the scary wolf like thing. He looked down clinging to the branch. "Serriously what the heck do I do wrong!?" He was shaking yet his hand on his sword was ferm and unmoving.
 
When the Da'Khor shot off in pursuit of...Something,Marit gave chase. The pup was there to make sure he wasn't mauled on sight by other Da'Khor,so he sure as hell wasn't going to lose this one. He strengthened the wind at his back,and saw someone scrambled up a tree,followed quickly by the pup assaulting the tree,shouting this and that. When he saw the flash of steel,Marit taken action. He hurled a miniature tornado at the person at the tree,removing the sword from their hand,sending it spinning away. Marit drew closer,and shouted, "That's enough! Both of you!" He saw that the person in question was a human. He sneered at him. "You're in the wrong place,worm." He probed the young man's mind,as he always done to those he meets. He didn't know any magic. Tragic. I'm going to die of boredom,soon enough...


He looked at the Da'Khor,and said, "Enough. We'll be taking him into custody and escort him back to Linton. He isn't a dark mage,nor is his a traitor,so if he dies on my watch...My superiors would be displeased." He shot a menacing glare at the human. His name was Draco,according to the boy's mind. "If you even think of running,Draco,we'll kill you." Marit hovered up to Draco,and removed his scabbard from his waist,while saying "Standard procedure. Resist at your own peril."
 
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