Legacy: Age of Strife (Savage Worlds RPG)

[Dr. Nibbles]

Caught in the Undertow​

The port city of Emac sits idly by on the coast of Pheobus. The smell of salt water and fish irradiates the air of the murky town, a thick layer of fog rolling in from the western coastline coats the town and for miles further out into Pheobus. If it were not for the thick coastal fog, the goliath towers that make up the Wizards College could be seen easily from Emac, only a few miles away. The people of Emac are solemn and quiet, often keeping to themselves but are still extremely neighborly. They are just, simple, and they choose to live their lives as such.

The main street of the Emac was Stallion Street on the lower end of the city, backed close against the pier. Along the entire long stretch of Stallion Street was slew of merchant shops and stalls selling goods and services of all qualities and quantities from all over the world. Some rare and valuable and some "rare and valuable". Cutting down a small street perpendicular to Stallion Street is the guild hall, which doubles as the town's only Tavern; the Cowardly Mare. The tavern is shady and a bit uncleanly but it does not stop thirsty and hungry patrons fresh from a voyage to dine and drink in the establishment. Further past this road will lead to the Residential districts of Emac, a collection of houses for those who do not live in their tavern or the collective apartment along Stallion Street.

Being a port into one of the largest countries of the world, even the most small port cities will receive a high influx of traffic at any given time. Today was no exception, the early morning routines of merchants and traders was thrown into upheaval by a large number of vessels docking the night before. A plethora of races, each belonging to the several vessels that docked made their presence known by invading the bars and purchasing goods from all available vendors.

Among these sullied and uncouth individuals five peculiar individuals broke out among the crowd. They're presence having no effect on these sailors and civilians, though their influence would reach far and wide. Their deeds would go down in history. Be it through infamy or glory, bards will sing the tales of these five individuals.

 

[Sanoci]

Reaching this atrocious port town was not for the faint of heart, dealing with plenty of opportunist along the way with heinous plans of their own. Such glee was savored for the trouble they wrought, perceiving him impotent for lack of weapon and inadequate protection to add. Gaining dominion over the half dozen bandits for his recent encounter, performing a benevolent act in ridding the roads of their filth with crumbled bodies decorated aside some rocks and one on a tree just because he was particularly talkative. The guards were no obstacle as approached, allowing him passage into Emac.

A ghastly scowl resting on the disheveled exterior of the brutish individual marked some type of subliminal message to do not pester unless getting pummeled was in your agenda of activities for today. Barbaric spike gauntlets with blood stained iron boots gave an inhumane vitalization of the acts he committed prior to his arrival in Emac. Half-orcs were a rarity in this area, justifying the curious glances he occasionally caught. Another reason could simply be his appearance, brawny, enveloped in ritualistic tattoos and scars from countless skirmishes. Possessing enough tact to not bear his meaty hammer in public, a black loincloth sufficed for clothing for the moment. Finding the alchemist for his own conquest towards strengthening the orc bloodline was of great significance, preserving his scarier tendencies out of respect for his goals in mind.

Truthfully his grim facial expression was amplified through the predatory eyes and unkempt braided beard that easily made the savage.. well obviously a savage in the presence of civilized people. Business could be established after moistening his throat of proper drink and teeth crunching down on the local delicacies which fortunately for the maidens did not include them momentarily. Neglecting the putrid odor radiating from this town, perhaps it was a byproduct of just being tough or it might had been familiar. Lost in thought over memories of visiting ancient cities once populated with his kin, it only engrossed the half-orc with pride yet sorrow for reminiscing on locations none would ever get to appreciate or have a home simply from the selfishness of others. Carrying their burdens and transforming into a manifestation of their rage, many deemed this ludicrous where there were more productive means instead of an excuse to spill blood.

Shuffling his feet bitterly passed the door to the Cowardly Mare, everyone like it was rehearse fixated their gaze towards the behemoth of a creature that made his entrance known. Finding this company a pathetic lot not capable of minding their own business, the bestial man utterly a slight growl to challenge those judgmental eyes that silently scrutinize most likely. Advancing to the closest bar stool, Mokrak settled himself on the wood and concentrated on the bartender of the place. They would not warrant him service immediately, either from his intimidating presence, racism, or a combination as far as the warrior was concern. Leering at some of the maidens within the tavern, almost timed they hid themselves like prey evading the cross hairs of a hunter. Soon someone had to approach him or else he would go on the initiative all for a simple meal and drink. The citizens of Emac were trapped with him, not the other way around.

 

[Nekrosilisk88]

A young bull sat near the tavern hearth. A large tankard of ale sat before the minotaur, and the fire behind him. Clad from horns to hoof in black painted iron, all around him gave a wide berth. He seemed slimmer than most of his kind, but the tight cords of muscle that showed in the gap between his chain shirt and his spiked gauntlets showed just how much strength was packed into that slim frame. No one crossed him for that reason, and for fear of the ancestral wrath that coursed in all his kind.

Still that reputation and strength belied a cold and calculating mind. Calmly he lifted the tankard to his mouth and took a pull draining almost a third of the vessel in the process. This was his fourth, one more and he'd probably call it a day. As he drank he mulled over what he'd learned in the past few days. Hours of time wasted in the public libraries of Emac had yielded nothing of use. The same old tales and legends that he'd heard a hundred times since his birth were recanted there.

His time here in the bar however, that had been far more fruitful. Here he'd learned of other places he might gain more fruitful knowledge. One was certain, but more difficult. The Wizard's Collge was rife with dark and forbidden secrets, but was also difficult to gain entry to. The other possibility was speculative, but much easier to access. There was tell of an alchemist, one with possibly vast knowledge of many things. This would be a much greater gamble, since it was unknown if he even possessed such knowledge, or whether it was pertinent to his search. Still it was probably a better place to start.

As he lifted his ale for another pull, another figure entered the tavern. He struck an imposing figure in the room amidst the humans. As his amber eyes watched the man settle down on a stool, he snorted, the sound echoing out from under his helm. He finished his drink and set it down on the table before leaning back in his chair, waiting for the barmaid to fetch him another.

 

[FuriousloverXD]

The stench of the small port town made Raina wrinkle her nose in disgust. Unwashed filthy sailors and the stench of rotting fish was not something a noble such as herself should have to endure. Nor should she have to sped time amongst the filthy peasants of the lesser races. Alas, the sacrifices she made for the name of her house and the pursuit of arcane knowledge. The sight of the wizards college from this filthy settlement was some comfort at least. She was close to her goal of reaching the library. There she hoped to gain access to more powerful spells before beginning her quest. Raina was no fool. The magic possessed now while useful, was not enough to obtain her goal.

She was but a mere novice compared to those at the library. With no time to find a ferry or caravan going to town she'd have to find a tavern to stay at. The Cowardly Mare seemed to be where she'd rest her head for the night. She'd definitely need a bath after this to rid herself of whatever crawled onto her while she slept. Raina kept her the green hood of her robes up so people wouldn't see too much of her. The thought of one of the pathetic human males trying to flirt with her made her want to vomit. With her hood up all they would see was a pair of bright emerald eyes staring back at them.

It was obvious she was female, but the robe his much of her figure and the staff showed she was a wizard. Hopefully, that would deter would be assailants from messing with her. Entering the tavern she'd quietly sigh then pick a spot at the bar with no one around it and order a glass of water.

 

[sirix]

Trixan walked to the back of the Cowardly Mare from the near by woods, carrying the last of his kills for the day. The deer across his shoulder wasn't the smallest of the day, but it was far from the largest. The only reason he was selling to the "Mare" was because he needed the free night. Dark Elves needed to have something of real value that wasn't money, fearing it may be stolen, to trade for services until they had a name for themselves. Even though he was one of only a few hunters for the small city, the people still had an inert dislike of him because of race.

After the trade was done and he had a room key for the night, he wandered into the tavern part and took a look at all the fresh and new faces in the room. The Half-Orc in the corner seemed to demand space, but attention for a few seconds at the same time. The Minotaur in a different corner seemed more relaxed, but was still imposing.

Lastly he noticed the High Elf by herself in the corner. Rare to see one of that over self-loving race to be around here, but the staff gave away her intention. The wizard collage to the north was her destination. Trixan's own leather armor was as clean as he could afford to keep them, which was rather clean since he cleaned it every night, but her robes just screamed of nobility, if not royalty. Trixan smiled a little as he walked over to inform her of the bad news. "Sorry to tell you princess, but the wizard's collage doesn't let anything other then seasoned magic users into their halls." Trixan says a little spitefully, his voice deeper then one would expect.

 

[Stayin' Frosty]

Midaris had spent a couple days in Emac, the stink of the fish no longer bothering him as much as it did when he'd first arrived. Today, he'd wandered among the streets of the coastal town, enjoying a short reprieve from the road. The people of the town, the non-elves, didn't nearly bother him as much as most of the rest of his kindred. They saw lesser beings, inferior species. If anything, he saw their potential; they weren't all a complete waste of skin.

He'd made his way to the Mare, seeking a reprieve from his walk through the town. A quick meal and perhaps a drink to wash it down. He pushed in, stepping past the entry's threshold, pausing a moment to take in the crowd with cool grey eyes. A thin, dark brow to match his short, dark hair slowly quirked itself up, spotting the orc at the bar, the minotaur at a table, and the dark elf speaking to another elf--High elf. His heavy leather robe rustled about his legs as he made his way to the bar, his boots thumping lightly across the floor as he walked. He'd taken a seat a few stools down from the orc--Half-orc, he corrected himself.

Waving over the barkeep, he ordered a glass or flagon of wine, then slid a couple coins across the counter. Smokey eyes cast another glance around the tavern, he'd mused quietly to himself, wondering about them and their stories.

 

[SomethingEsoteric]

“Icghh…” A sound of displeasure garbled by a mouthful of water came as Hilde stepped through the gates into the bustling city of Emac, though unlike most new arrivals to the city – it was not the stench of fish that bothered her but rather a fresh pile left behind from the beastly drawn carriage ahead now occupying to sole of her shoe she’d felt her stomach turned by. Fish, fowl, gore and rot – none these smells bothered her all too much, but dogma forbid she catch a wiff of waste without at least a groan of disgust even after her feet grew callous and her legs weak from many a day and night trudging the country roads. When one spent as much time as she, Hilde of Erebus, offering healing hands to those in need and repaying in kind those who caused such hurt - foul odors such as raw fish did little to wrinkle the nose of this priestess – no – what wrinkled her nose were falls from grace and what the cloth she belonged to deemed as sinful behaviour, reckless abandon for morality, wrong doing from garden variety to the deepest darkest thickets and bogs.

The priestess’s mouth was one grown tired of water all the time without the experience of wine to change perception on what she might really want, among other acts a less pious adult may indulge shamelessly in. –Even still, for some reason or the next, for whatever reason Hilde did enjoy the setting of a tavern and her feet were in need of a rest… heck, her feet were in need of a new pair of sandals! –after a moment to grind them along the dirt road till clean she ducked into a nearby tavern and reached into the purse hung around her neck beneath her robes retrieving a small nondescript letter, a plump lip on fair face pulling in pensive appraisal.

It was quite an eclectic bunch within, unsavory on most accounts beyond her own – not that she was one to openly judge, openly – nor was she one to hide judgement all too well for that matter. Not that any of this mattered all too much, no, she was here for more than aimless water and she’d long since finished any appointed pilgrimages, Hilde had come to the City of Emac at another’s behest and more than food and a moment’s rest would be found in this tavern “Excuse me sir,” She hummed delicately to a man behind the bar, lowering the ivory hood of her robe to reveal alabaster skin and radiant crimson tresses, icy blue eyes and pale lips void of stain. The priestess grimaced and looked over her shoulder at the crowed before leaning in for discretion. “I received a letter from an old friend and came to Emac as soon as I could but I’m afraid clairvoyance and I are not familiar.” An earnest smile tugging at her lips, “His name is Gire… and his home is Ahm,” she squinted at the parchment, not the most literate of folks beyond scripture and the like, “here I think?”

The man with a dirty glass, dirty face, dirty clothes looked at her less than impressed from her attempt at humour to her misplaced appearance in the tavern. The man snorted, clearing his throat before spitting a thick gob into the glass “Well, y’gunna buy something then ‘eh?” –and all she could do was stare blankly, a new reason for a wrinkled nose she’d found,

“Water? –not in that glass… and-uhm… B-bread?” The priestess asked cringing and folding the letter back into her robe.

 

[Dr. Nibbles]

((I REALLY REALLY REALLY want to appologize how long I was lagging on this post. It should NOT happen again. Being as I have a night time scheduel so I SHOULD be able to post regularly cause I don't need to go to sleep at a normal hour. lol Also please check the Main Thread for more detail about posting and such. http://bluemoonroleplaying.com/forums/showthread.php?tid=52780&pid=1392220#pid1392220))

Excluding the six eclectic characters who had only just entered the bar, the Tavern was full of purely human sailors and townsfolk. Being as Emac was a lesser known port, most often only natives to the Mainland would return or dock here. The patrons of the bar were slummy and sleazy as often sailors of this part were, not to mention quite unaccepting of true outsiders. It was not uncommon to see a half-orc or occasionally a Dark Elf, but a Minotaur, two High Elves and a Priestess of Adeanthro were far from normal.

It seemed as though the smell of their cleanliness seemed to bother them as does the stench of the townsfolk's' own bother and disgust the travelers. The bartender quickly tended to the needs of his guests providing them with the necessary drinks while a rather disheveled yet scantily dressed barmaid delivered the refreshments.

"Why do you need to see Gire?" spoke a voice from the center of the bar. A human dressed in a dark brown coat, his face shielded by the wide brim of his hat. Though this hat did not disguise his scummy hair, possibly dirty blonde in color at one point it now appeared to have streaks of dark greens and black through out it. The smell of gunpowder was strong on him. ((Everyone take a Knowledge (Technology) Test to recognize the smell, if no skill d4-2 as per normal)) He refused to look up from his drink, his gloved hand sporadically spun a coin between his fingers.

 

[Sanoci]

Entranced with the goal in mind kept him from noticing the scent lingering the vicinity itself [failed check], eying the human who delivered the ale he requested. Rapacious eyes glanced at the scantily dressed barmaid, shunning his primal tendencies, gulping the drink like water. Mokkrak caught a glimpse of others who entered, a rarity yet nothing that warranted his attention. Unless confronted the half-orc remained in a docile state, unleashing his ferocity on some high elf in the woods and slaughtering some bandits. Once he left this miserable place would things get more interesting, seeking out some alchemist.

 

[Nekrosilisk88]

The young bull caught the scent, though he couldn't tell what it was. His gaze momentarily drifted to the source, but it didn't hold his interest. There were other matters that concerned him more. As the serving wench brought about his last ale, he turned his gaze towards one of the elves that had entered the inn. He didn't know her intentions, but the staff gave away her trade. She was a wizard, and that made her a possible asset, provided she could get him into the college. If not, she might still have other uses.

 

[FuriousloverXD]

The distraction of the rude dark elf made Raina completely miss the scent. Instead she simply looked at him as one would look at a pile of shit they had just stepped in. "Excuse you, did I ask your opinion dark elf? No, I did not. It's no business of yours what I'm doing so kindly remove your filth from my presence and never speak to me again." With that said she went back to the bar fuming a bit. How dare some filthy little dark elf scoundrel speak to her that way. The college would let her in, she was nobility after all. Minor nobility, but nobility none the less. The arrival of the priestess and another high elf caught her attention, but she made no move to investigate yet. If the dark elf kept heckling her she'd sit by her high elf brother in hopes that would make him go away.

 

[sirix]

Noticing the sent but not really able to do much else with it, Trixan used it as a way to leave the conversation he had started. He chuckled as he got the exact response he expected, a just bit a fun in his mind. He looked around for the source of the strange for the town smell, but not able to distinguish its origins he soon forgot about it. Trixan wondered over and sat next to the priestess. He decided on having a bit more fun.

"Uumm, sister? May I beg your pardon?" He starts, wondering if she would talk to him given his place in the world.

 

[Stayin' Frosty]

The elf stared at the greasy glass of.... wine. Having been here a couple days already, he thought he'd be able to get used to it. The other towns and villages he'd visited prior were probably much cleaner, comparatively. Oh, the joys of travelling. He sighed and took a quick pull, nearly choking on it, the acrid stink of.... something.... mingling with the already sour scent of the wine.

An ear twitched, catching the sound of a voice behind him, asking about someone looking for someone else. He cast a glance over his shoulder, spotting the.... odd-looking person-- He wasn't there before, was he? --brow quirked in curiousity. Midaris wasn't being addressed--He wasn't looking for anyone in particular. He looked away, looking around the tavern again.. Interesting how there were only 6 others, including himself, outside of the human-majority.

 

[SomethingEsoteric]

The priestess was nearly over the unpleasantness of this place, between riff-raff, dirty glasses and the boorish man behind the bar who couldn't be assed to bring her bread when the climate of it all changed. It couldn't have been so simple as a sensory overload of pungent variety - no - other-realm's forbid, it came from all angles and it came quick!

She turned to find a sight unseen to her previously, the sable fleshed man begging her pardon - while this was not a terribly egregious happening, what followed and the timing to it were more than just unfortunate. She opened her mouth to speak but a second voice and a pungent stench would occupy her throat instead. She felt it cauterize her taste-buds then sear her throat, eyes watering as she continued to stare the dark-elf in the face.

Fair skin soon turning a sickly sort of greenish hue, she'd never smelt the source but it came heavily from the stranger who'd confronted her and his heavy duster. No words left the priestess's lips - only a horrid dry heave her arm covering her mouth as she began to cough. -she'd gladly take the stench of outside to this!

Her nearly hysterical reaction to the scent did taper quick enough however, one hand gesturing toward the stranger with the letter Gire had sent her, the other toward the Dark-Elf, now begging his pardon.

((FYI, I rolled a critical fumble on my check if you hadn't guessed = o=))