Fantasy Rifts [IC][Closed]

[Worthlessplebian]

Edoardo Vargas Melcher​

Resigned to his duty, Edoardo pressed on, his mind hounded by thoughts of the fetid stink that awaited them. The sewers spewed the city's substantial waste in the yawning ocean — Edoardo's hard eyes followed the overflowing waste, pooling at the bottom of the sewage tunnel, spreading its decaying tendrils, the colour of dark copper, to the sea. For a moment, he felt a spike of anger surge across his thoughts, then smothering his rage with comprehension's illumination.

Still, the noxious fumes filled Edoardo's senses as he entered into the fine-cut, narrow tunnel; sickly sweet miasma of long-dead rodents, the rotted musk of algae, the putrid waft of excrement swept down stream. Edoardo gagged but persevered, hoping that his revulsion will pass. His head shifted to Terrence, nose and mouth shielded by the white sheet of the handkerchief. "Incongruity begets incongruity, that's how this all began." Edoardo said, mouth half-wide, almost grinning, his wicked teeth catching the glimmer of the weak light in the tunnels.

Then a voice rang out from the hard darkness of the depths, a figure coalescing into the light admitted by the entrance. It stood barely higher than his knee, cloaked in homespun, bedecked with the gleaming trinkets of stolen wares —a thief, pawning goods. Edoardo crossed his arms against his chest, amber eyes glistening from beneath the pale shadows that hung about his features, backlit by the day's light. Terrence's expertise as a merchant meant that he would be their most valuable negotiator.

 

[joshuadim]

The Customs House
Breadman​

"Debt collectors?" Arnas mused, thinking over the proposition as they both continued to walk towards their destination. "...we don't look like official debt collectors. But perhaps we can spin that in some manner." He scratched his chin, thinking it over some more until they rounded a street corner and saw that at the end of the cobbled road was the front gate of the Customs House. A small group of guards loitered at the front, passing the time as they either kept themselves busy through chatter amongst themselves or did something to occupy their time. But the idea came to his head that perhaps they needn't deal with simply the front door.

"I reckon we have a bit of time... lets scout around, see if we find anything we can use to get inside just in case." Arnas then said to Fraskia, "I'll head right, you can go left around the outer walls. Meet back here in... a quarter-hour?"

---

The Gutters
Infab Vexumin Oreo Cookie​

Ornam shook his head to Vera at first: "Nay. Not a regular 'round here, if that's what yer wondering." the dwarf spoke as he took another puff from his pipe, glancing to his periphery. "But I like the elf-lad's idea. Find someone who talks... or has a big mouth. Bound to be a few 'round 'ere if they speak to the city watch." He then turned to Levy and chuckled: "Save that skull-crackin' fer later. We're after Kiri, not any o' the gangs that be here." The dwarf would then stride forward, allowing the others to follow him as they went on a search for information. While under normal circumstances they would have to start from scratch, Ornam did have an idea.

"Keep yer eyes peeled for any 'merchants' 'round here. More likely ta scam you, but they also like to talk..." Ornam mused aloud as he led the group to turn a corner that led into an alleyway; rather than be one of the many in the city - wet and dirty - this was habitated by makeshift tents and wooden boxes that counted as 'shops'. Above ran the twine that hung various baubles for other enterprises above, while below various entrepreneurial souls shouted and called upon any passersby walking along their stretch of territory to partake in their goods.

"Come come! Charms to guard soul!" spoke a rat-like creature known as a Rakeed, its teeth chattering and shoulders spasaming almost as if something were wrong with its muscles. But all seemed well as it didn't pay any mind to its twiches and continued to try to earn a living. "Sell good charms! No sellbacks!"

Another was a seemingly drunken vagrant whose own wooden shack housed liquids of unknown types, one of which he kept sniffing rather than drinking, and gave a grin of yellow teeth towards the group as they passed by. "Need to kill some fella?" he asked, "Poisons right here... from the worst stuff imaginable! But also some nice fragrances..."

Ornam let out an audible tsk, as he stopped and put his hands onto his hips with mild frustration. "Alright, we need to split up and ask around. Ask about information, keep it discreet fer now. See if anyone bites."

---

The Sewers
Beann Chaos Gallant Worthlessplebian​

Janna was silent for a moment, rubbing a claw at the edge of a small blade as his eyes trailed between the trio on the mention of procuring the beverage. He then let out a raspy chuckle and sheathed his blade before nodding deeper into the sewer. "Sea-brine? Come. I make." he simply said, wading further into the depths. Without much else to go off of, they would follow the kobold into the depths with only a few torches to light the way. The dripping of water and the pattering of their footsteps filled the air, echoing off the walls as they moved further. Janna remained silent himself until he took a sharp turn to the right and banged on a wooden door. "Ch'korla! Yakka teru!"

Another brief moment of silence was then interrupted by the unlocking of hatches before the door flung open, revealing another kobold - lighter in their scale colour - who looked to Janna and the newcomers with suspicion. "Tam dzekha?"

"Sea-brine, they buy." Janna simply said, which in turn made the other kobold relax and walk back from the door. On entering, Aelestra, Terrence and Edoardo would be greeted with a large cistern that seemed to be out of use when compared to the rest of the sewer system. This was fortunate for the kobolds, as they had imported a great amount of equipment inside of flasks, tubings, barrels, crates, and gods know what else for their entire operation. It was an impressive sight, but also very illegal given what some of the things they concocted down here for sale and smuggle.

There was also a table nearby that Janna took a seat at, before uncorking a bottle that held a vibrant blue liquid inside and poured a small amount into small glass. "Taste. It real brine. Very pure." Janna simply said, motioning a clawed digit to it.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Edoardo Vargas Melcher​

The priest inclined his head slightly, hard gaze watching the grime-crusted claw dragged along the length of the blade, amber eyes smouldering from the shadows like twin suns glaring down amidst starless night skies. Edoardo loomed in the half-darkness of the sewers, the raspy laughter echoing weirdly from the moss-riven walls. Following the dead-eyed creature, the sickly quiet disturbed only by the droplets of condensation and the shallow thump of their footfalls. The stench of waste refused to fade, Edoardo's hands clenched. Then Janna turned abruptly, knuckle rapped loudly against a rustwood door, hatches clicking in the darkness, the door swung back.

It was a kobold, scales pale whereas Janna's dark. Voice grim with mistrust, staring with feverish intensity, soon placated by the promise of transaction. Edoardo took a step in their chamber, head shifting. The cluttered state of their floor littered with open crates, heavyset barrels, stained glassware and other less-identifiable refuse. His eyes narrowed as Janna motioned towards the cup of azure liquid, gleaming in the dimmed light of their claustrophobic space.

Edoardo grunted, hand reaching out to the glass. Wicked claws clinked against the cup, going up to his snout. Edoardo shot a withering look to Janna, a sudden threat hung about the Sobekon as though his body could snap into rapid, blurred motion before drinking deep from the potent liquid.

 

[Chaos Gallant]

Terrence led the trio after the kobold treading warily behind him as the underground dealer guided them to his “headquarters.” This hadn’t been the first time the orc found himself in underground dealings, though usually they were less literal, located in the maze of Dandolio’s alleyways or clandestine warehouses. Their choice of locale for their base of operations was hard to argue with, the smell alone was likely to ward off any curious explorer’s, let alone overworked and underpaid guards.

He listened as Janna spoke in the unfamiliar tongue with the door guard, its suspicion was warranted, customer’s were probably the ones being sought out in their business not the other way around. Terrence took in his surroundings as they entered. It wasn’t a half bad operation they had running considering the scant number of personnel they were working with. His eyes followed Janna moving to the table holding their quarry.

Before Terrence could step forward to take the drink, Edoardo had already volunteered to be the impromptu quality assurance representative. “Ah, excellent.” He gave Edoardo a cautionary glance to make sure he wasn't about to keel over in front of them. “What do you weigh as fair for a bottle then? Coin? Or do you prefer material payment?” Terrence said as he turned his gaze back to Janna.

Aelestra looked between Edoardo and Terrence, mildly surprised that the former was quick to sample the drink rather than question its integrity. ‘Do we have anything to trade with them other than your spices?’ She questioned Terrence and then looked back over at the priest. Between the three of them, the half-orc seemed to be the only one with any real valuable possessions.

Terrence knelt down as he signed, ‘I have some of the payment from the Guardian, and a bottle of Dandolian Port, and coin of course. I am not familiar with the sea brine market though, so I do not want to reveal our weakness just yet.’ He started to rummage through his bag, looking at Janna as he awaited a response.

 

[Breadman]

I reckon we have a bit of time... lets scout around, see if we find anything we can use to get inside just in case. I'll head right, you can go left around the outer walls. Meet back here in... a quarter-hour?"

"See you soon then." Fraskia looked to her left and the path didn't seem all that remarkable. Still it would be best to take a look. As she walked the street, the rune knight took notice of the different shops spread around between the homes and other buildings. A great many of them sell wares that have little interest to her. Pottery, trinkets, knickknacks and the final one having a strong smell of fish.

Fraskia continue to walk down the path and something caught her eye. Up ahead she spotted an armored figure. A towering figure standing a good head above the other people near them. She narrowed her eyes as she saw the talisman hanging from his sash. What would one of her order be doing all the way here in Gwell? Could it be him? She picked up the pace to catch up to the man up front. As she got closer, she could make out more of his armor. The scratches and dents. The marks on his exposed arm. She had to make sure.

"Have you followed the path to its end, brother?" She raised her voice to make sure he could hear her. The man stopped in his tracks and slowly turned. The winged helm hiding the his face, but she could feel his eyes find their way to her and stop as he recognized something.

"I walk it for years and I only find it turning and twisting, sister." He answered, but soon his laughter would betray the serious tone of the answer "Come closer, let this old man take a look at you." Fraskia approached him with a renewed confidence and as they neared their arms clasped together. "One of Duncan's recruits, no?"

"How did you..."

"The markings, girl. My sight may have waned, but so close, I can see the hags curse still covering your face." Fraskia looked away for a second, remembering her childhood and the hag's lair. "Ah, do not feel shame. I remember Duncan's tale and your bravery."

"I was a child, ser. I barely knew what was happening."

"No, you knew. He told you clear as day what would await you if you chose to join our ranks and that small malnourished child now stands in front of me a scarred hunter."

"I can't believe its really you, Ser Jordie."

"Ahh, my titles mean nothing here." He laughed again "I may be from noble stock, but the people of Gwell see me as something different."

"What do they see you as? What are you doing here in the first place?"

"The path led me here. Last you saw of me would be...when you were about this high" He placed his hand slightly lower than his waist "Thats when I started to feel it. I had slain many beasts and placed many blighters back in the grave, but one thing we could never defeat is the stings of fate and the dagger of time she wields."

"You could have stayed at Castle Vrana. To teach and share your experience."

"Not with this." He pointed an armored gauntlet to his exposed arm. A series of tattoos enveloped it like vines chocking the life out of a tree trunk. The skin caught between them looked burned or covered with scar tissue. It was his curse. There were stories of what he did to earn such a fate. One talks of a rune spell gone horribly wrong, another of fighting an elemental lord that was rampaging its way across the country side. A third talks of Jordie shattering a demonic portal by crushing the sigil stone with his hand. Whatever the truth is, it is between him, the elders and the gods.

"Is it drawing you somewhere?" She wondered if the recent rift activity was connected.

"In a sense." He lifted his marked hand and looked at it "It was causing me a good deal of pain. I thought I would be consumed by madness so I decided to take my leave and leave for the path early."

"You were still so young."

"Aye, but the pain would not leave me. So I endured months of travel and crossed the sea. There are people here. Versed in the ways of magic and medicine unlike those back home. The process could not be reversed, but the pain could be subdued. I have been living here since. Serving this city and its fine people in the only way I know how. How either of us can, really."

"How many beasts have you slain?" She faintly smiled. "Surely there can't be that many left to hunt."

"You have no idea what these lands hide, do you?" He was quiet for a moment "Some things here, they would make a cyclops or troll look like gentle giants out for a stroll. The elements here are different from how they are back home too."

"What do you mean?"

"Have you tried talking to them? The way we are trained to do can be limited here. The kingdom of the elements is much deeper than what the elders would teach you. Those dwarfs from ages ago only scratched the surface."

"Have you tried making contact with Castle Vrana over this? Surely they should know about this if its so important."

"Aye, I've send a few letters here and there and have compiled a few tomes worth for those curious." He was silent for a few moments "But you are not here for them, are you? No, you would have said so from the start. Tell me, girl. Why have you come here."

"Its a very long and complicated story, ser."

"We can walk and talk then." He invited her to join him with a motion of his marked hand.

"No, I need to be heading back to the customs house. I'm meeting an ally there and..." She was silent for a moment before she thought crossed her mind. "If I tell you of my immediate task, will you assist in any way you can?"

"Depends on what said task is." He crossed his arms.

"Do you know Gerwin?"

"Gods above, girl! What are you doing dealing with him?" Fraskia invited him to accompany her to the way back to the Custom's house. Arnas was right. They didn't look like debt collectors, but maybe someone of some importance and renown could help them in their deception.

 

[Vexumin]

Reece nods along as it's decided that the group will separate in search for a lead on Kiri, or at least a good source of information that won't backfire on them. Whatever the case may be, the elf fella was just excited to do some walking around, hopefully he'd get to talk to folk. He regretted that they could not make a more formal greeting to those that ran this place and he hoped that they wouldn't be stepping on any toes while doing their business. Reece just prayed that nothing would go wrong.

He passed various stalls, looking at questionable goods and people, but he didn't show any aversion to those he passed. His friendly demeanor even seemed to catch some people by surprise, especially those doing their best to look as intimidating as possible. Those that might want to do Reece harm for bringing his joyous nature into a place like this held off though as they studied the knife he carried. He is a cleric, but he can't be left defenseless in the big open world.

The fact that he is an elf also caught the attention of others, one of which decided to make their move as he was walking down a shadowed road. Suddenly Reece's arm is tugged and he comes face to face with a lady dressed to catch the eye. Deep red hair frames a tired yet eager to please face. The smell of pricey fragrances cling to her skin.

"Don't see many elves. Never had one before myself. You're a cute one aren't you? Interested in spending a bit of time with me?"

Reece wasn't even phased by the proposition. He just cants his head to the side a bit as he looks at the womans face, gazing into her eyes and then scanning her skin a bit. He shifts his gaze down her body a bit after that, but it doesn't seem to be out of lecherous or perverse intent, instead it was more like he was scanning her a bit, looking for something in particular.

The long gaze from the elf caught the lady by surprise. Her face twists a bit into a nervous expression. She has had strange customers before, but the look he was giving her was different. She feared what he might be searching for until she felt him gently take back his arm and place a warm hand on her shoulder. He was now looking exclusively on an almost well hidden bruise on the side of her face. He offers her a somber smile.

"You work so hard. I can't offer much, but I can give you a little strength back."

In that moment, before she could pull away, Reece willed forth his magic. The necklace hanging from his neck began to twinkle with deep blue energy, a joyous light that is covered by the elf's hand after a moment. He figured that it would be better if people didn't notice that spark of magic. Some might mistake his tool of faith as some powerful trinket or a piece of jewelry that might sell for a profit. As the almost liquid, paint-like energy began to weave over her skin, the bruise on her face started to fade. She noticed the pain from her face and other places on her body simply disappearing. By the time she took a step back, the marks of her work were already gone. The elf just offers a smile and a bow of his head.

"I wish you success, miss. Please be safe."

Then, just as suddenly as the interaction started, the elf was on his way. The woman didn't bother going after him or going out of her way to express her gratitude, and Reece would honestly prefer it that way. Better for Tereila's clergy to be known for their kindness without expecting a reward. Was it a risk to expose himself like that? Perhaps. However, he had to follow his purpose before anything. Helping those in need was the whole reason he traveled as a cleric. He tried not to let it worry him too much and got back to his search promptly.

It was not hard to find those merchants that got the most out of their time in The Gutter. All you had to do was look for the soft sparkle of gold in the shadows of this place. Reece would rather not get tricked into selling his soul for the sake of gathering information, so he just kept on searching. Eventually his efforts led him to a small stand tucked out of the way from the usual walk of strange stores with their unsavory wares. However, this stand was about just as shady as the rest. It was blades that this man sold, and judging from the weapons he had on his person, he had an almost professional familiarity with weaponry aside from his work selling them.

Other than the weapons he carries around, he was rather plain for someone in these parts. He was dressed in leathers, a hood over his head, but a rather common looking face with stubble strapped along his chin. He looked at Reece with a raised brow as the elf approached his stand.

"A fine collection you've got here. Only ever kept one blade for myself."

 

[Oreo Cookie]

Vera strode through the makeshift market, the crunch of the alleyway’s filthy ground mixing with the clink of her armored steps. She felt the eyes on her, some sizing her up, others quickly looking away. Here, among stalls hawking rusted goods and questionable wares, her plate armor made her a glaring anomaly, a steel-clad shadow that didn’t belong.

"Oi! Tin can!" A voice cut through the marketplace din, bold and brazen.

Vera turned slowly to the source. Beckoning casually from a nearby stall was a wiry man with a mop of dark, unruly hair and a grin that stretched too wide on his gaunt face. A crooked sign nailed overhead his stall read Bit's & Bob's Odds & Ends in a hand-painted scrawl. Beside him, a hulking brute stood as a silent sentinel, wide as he was tall, one good eye fixed on the approaching Vera for the other was hidden behind an eyepatch.

"Lemme guess: you're Bit?" Vera directed at the smaller man. She took in the wares spread before her—chipped weapons, patchwork clothes, dark bottles with dubious contents, and an assortment of other trinkets probably held together by false hopes and broken dreams. The stall entire was cloaked in the smell of rancid oils and cheap incense, a sorry attempt to mask the stench of the Gutters.

"Bob, actually." The lanky man answered with a laugh. He jabbed a thumb at his looming companion. "And this be me brother, Bit."

Bit greeted her with a grunt.

"So, what's a fine lady knight doin' down here? Lost yer horse? Lookin' for yer squire? Wantin' to sell that shiny metal yer wearin'? Or maybe..." He gestured grandly to his hodgepodge of goods. "Ye're here to trade? Got plenty to offer. Maybe a lucky ring for yer prince charmin', or a vial of somethin' to slip into an enemy's drink. Maybe ye're in the market for a spear?" He held up what looked like a broomstick with a kitchen knife tied to the end.

Vera arched an eyebrow at the 'weapon.' "I'll pass. Don’t foresee myself bein' attacked by a ham anytime soon, or at all really."

Bob chuckled, tossing the makeshift spear back onto the pile with a shrug. “Suit yerself, tin can. Guess not everyone's got an eye for quality craftsmanship.”

Glasses and metals clinked as he cleared the counter to make room for his elbows as he leaned forward. "So, if ye're not here for quality weaponry "what brings a fine lady like ye down to these parts? This ain’t the place for sightseeing, unless ye’re in the mood to get fleeced."

"Flayed more like." Vera quipped, casting a pointed glance at Bit.

Bob cackled, a dry laugh choked off by a phlegmy cough. Even Bit let out a low rumble. Whether a laugh or a growl, the mountain of a man's stony face made it impossible to tell.

"Aye, flayed, fleeced—same difference 'round these part. Parts well-off folk don't venture to unless they’re lookin’ for somethin'." He paused, a glint reflected in his eyes and the silver tooth in his smile. "Or someone?"

Vera kept her expression carefully neutral and picked up one the shivs on display. "Sharp for a junk peddler, ain't ya?" She turned the blade in her hand, examining it with feigned interest. "But you're not far off the mark, friend. I'm lookin' for a certain somebody, and I'm willin' to help a humble merchant like yourself turn a fine profit today if they point me in their direction."