Long Game 2: The Devil's Den

[Leonardus he/him]

"Would it truly be so bad if the ashmount stopped spewing ash? It would make my life a whole lot easier! and besides I also help out with getting rid of dead sucke- *AHEM* I mean recently deceased citizens so perhaps I could earn a living that way.... Hmmm it certainly pays better that's for sure."

[Alvron]

Vron quietly slid unnoticed from Dyring's cellar after doctoring a couple of his ale casks with a minor hallucinogenic compound.  After finding an unoccupied table near the back wall, he pulls out one of Aether's lists and mutters to himself. 'With this many crew members, I'm going to need to stockpile any metals I can find. If only the last shipment I had acquired hadn't stopped over in Tyrian Falls.

Edited January 26, 2014 by Alvron

[Quiver he/him]

The proxy scanned the room.

Who am I even looking for? he realised with a jolt. Lord Ollivier had told him to find a crew leader by the name of Modeft, but which one of these was he? He wanted to stand up, demand on the authority of the Canton that things begin. Instead, he sunk lower in his seat, and waited.

[princess she/her]

Cessie stepped into the small tavern room, and instantly had to resist the urge to roll her eyes.  It was filled with a multitude of bodies in varrying states of unwash, their owners of an equal variety of ill repute.  Stepping into the center of the room, she knew the attention she would draw, but found she didn't care.  Her father would kill her when he-

 

"But of course," she thought, sitting down next to a man who appear to be mostly sane and properly washed, "he won't be able to do a thing. any more, will he.  Besides, I'm rich enough to pay off anyone who asks too many questions."

 

Waving the Bartender over she requested a bottle of wine, and waited to see what would happen...

[Aether he/him]

The list has been updated in accordance with the latest corrections. Also, I found it amusing that Shivertongue took the liberty of doing so himself.

[Awesomeness Summoned he/him]

Wes reclined uncomfortably along a rafter overlooking the crowded bar. He wasn't particularly fond of high places but he learned long ago that temptation almost always got the better of him eventually. The tight quarters below offered far too many opportunities for a skilled cutpurse.

 

Wes so dearly wanted to see what was in the bag that cloaked fellow kept fidgeting with and the highborn lady who recently walked in was bound to have something shiny tucked away. Alas, many of the patrons were likely here to join the same crew he was. It's never a good idea to steal from fellow thieves. Wes had removed the temptations by putting the rest of the bar beyond reach but his twitchy fingers were getting worse the longer he waited.  

[Swimmingly he/him]

Shimble Leice sauntered in to Dyring's bar, his cheap suit stained with ash. A pair of elaborate dueling canes dangled from his hips, and the pockets of his coat bulged like ripe fruit, ready to be plucked and stolen.

Yer finest whiskey, good sir! Yes, those excellent casks you keep in yer basement!

He shoved aside a hooded figure to sit at the bar, sending the man and his bag sprawling to the ground. Turning his back on the prone fellow, he peered at the rough cellar door, waiting for his drink.

[luckat she/her]

Lucy stood silently in a corner, watching as people filed in. It was a diverse group. Already quite a cacophony was rising. She looked at faces for any she might recognize. She especially looked for the telltale glint of silver or covered eyes that would mark an Inquisitor. Hopefully she would notice them before they noticed her.

 

 

My original count has been updated to include our latest participant. Also, up-vote for luckat for joining our game in her (?) first ever forum post!

 

Thanks for the welcome, and sorry to mess with your list 

[Aspren]

Looking to join the game, if it's not too late. This is my first time. I hope I don't fail too miserably.

 

Aspren was the crew's inventory manager  or rather the "supply and requisitions officer" as he called himself. He didn't speak much, but when he did, he did so in a terse manner. He seemed to have a penchant for procedure, no informal requests of supplies were tolerated. Granted that you followed the proper procedure though, you'd be able to get anything you need from him. Anything, that is, except allomantic metals (which if requested, you would find him directing to take it up with the Vron the ""Alchemist""). 

 

He was often seen to passing letters to the crew leader, Modeft. The content of which was subject to some speculation among the other crew members

Edited January 26, 2014 by Aspren

[Gamma Fiend he/him]

Gamon was quietly wondering just what type of job, exactly, required all 30 or so of these useless, ugly brutes?
He was starting to grow impatient.
The gall of this so-called crew leader! Gamon had never respected people who didn't look as good as him -- i.e., anybody else who had ever lived --  and he was starting to worry about the size of the crew and operation. There was no way something of this size could avoid the notice of the Inquisitors, those hideous, unsightly fiends.

Just what is Modeft getting at, here? He wondered, as he finished up his drink and idly sat twiddling his thumbs. Gamon wasn't usually an impatient man, it was just being forced to endure the company of mediocrity for so long really was a test of endurance.

Maybe he could go to the dice table in the nearby corner and have some fun for a little bit? He almost ordered another drink and was about to stand and go to the table when he seemed to hear a voice whisper in his ear.

"No gambles!"

He swung his head around, bewildered, and there was nobody even nearby him.

Just what in the name of Ruin was that?
 

[Swimmingly he/him]

Shimble, growing bored of waiting for his whiskey, drew a cane and cautiously poked the bag lying on the ground next to the unconscious hooded figure. It clinked.

*clink*

*clink*

Edited January 26, 2014 by Swimmingly

[Shivertongue he/him]

Shiv scanned his eye across the growing crowd; he'd picked this place because it seemed empty, but it seemed he'd been mistaken. He had not been in Urteau long, but it seemed as though he'd already stumbled upon a meeting ground of his kind of people. It was a good thing he'd bathed today; it always helped to make a good first impression when mingling with the right sort of people.

 

He swirled the whiskey in his glass before taking a sip, feeling the slow burn as it ran down his throat. Free alcohol always tasted better than the kind you had to pay for yourself. In his peripheral vision he noticed a girl taking the seat beside him, gesturing to the bartender and ordering a bottle of wine. The choice of drink, the clothing, and the general air she had about herself - to the trained eye - just screamed 'I have money!'

 

People with money were his favorite kind of people.

 

"Whating the what of bringing?" He said by way of greeting, crooked grin shifting his face. "Never expecting the not of the empty. Having the have of gather of the intent?"

[WeiryWriter he/him]

Weiry glanced down at the milling throng below him.  He must have fallen asleep, he didn't remember there being quite so many people.  How many more people are gunna show up?  Modeft surely doesn't expect all these people to work together? Weiry had to admit however that Modeft was a bit of a mad genius, or at least he thought he was.  It wasn't really his concern though. Weiry was the watcher on the walls, or in this case the rafters, and his job was to do just that.  Watch. Not just for the lawmen, and the dreaded Steel Inquisitors, but the thieves as well...  Who knows when they might have someone who would try to double-cross them.  And in a crew this size it was more likely than not.

[Robot Aztec]

Roban hands the glsas over slidesing it across the bar is it the CITIZENS SPECIAL it is half whiskey with half melon oil and then set on fire

[Awesomeness Summoned he/him]

"Hm... interesting," Wes whispered, peering down at the boorish fellow as he poked the bag. It's size and shape suggested something other than money contained within but he certainly hadn't expected a clanking sound to accompany each poke of the cane.

"Lord Ruler! just open the thing already!"

The man had already knocked a random stranger unconscious. It's doubtful he'd have any qualms about riffling through his stuff so why was he just playing with it? Wes was so anxious he couldn't believe he hadn't fallen off...

His grip slipped, nearly sending him careening straight down on top of Mr. Pokes but he managed to latch back onto the rafter with his fingertips at the last second. As he stilled his racing heart, Wes took a quick look around the room to make sure no one had noticed him flailing about above them just seconds ago. No eyes gazed in his direction at the moment. Too many other distractions and nobody ever seems to look up.

"Perhaps it's time I relocated to a less precarious seat."

Whatever the crew had been assembled for was bound to start soon and Wes didn't fancy sitting through the meeting listening from above. He carefully made his way back towards the small window that had facilitated his entrance hours earlier.

Edited January 27, 2014 by Awesomeness summoned

[Aspren]

Aspren had been Dyring's establishment since early morning, sitting near to the cellar door.

 

Odd that there's so many corners, he thought to himself. odd that everyone seems to want to sit in one... 

 

So far the tavern was packed in what could be called an odd configuration. The corners and sides of the large room were packed with the regular crew-members, mostly jostling for a corner seats, for reasons that Aspren couldn't figure, and a with the rest of the crew - some of who Aspren didn't recognize - sitting in the very centre of the room. Modeft had yet to arrive.

 

It didn't seem like anyone had noticed him yet, even though he had been the first to arrive and had been sitting there scribbling in his notebook all morning. Also, Dyring and Roban had yet to bring him the wine he had ordered several hours ago.

 

No matter. I have more important things to do than inebriate myself and participate in vacuous conversation

Edited January 27, 2014 by Aspren

[Mailliw73 he/him]

Maxill huddled under a table in the corner of the bar, listening for any little tidbits of information. One man was speaking in gibberish. Another was a fancy noble lady and Maxill had no idea why she would be here of all places. A sweeper complaining about sweeping? How unnormal. Maxill heard a thuddening noise as a cloaked man fell to the floor. Well, that's so much surprising. Must've had too much to drink. Maxill thought. Some man had come in earlier and thumped a list into the wall on the different side of the open room. Maxill had earlier slidded out from neath the table and sneaked around to the list. After seeing all the names, he thought, wannabe?! Modeft hisself has assigned me works to listen to people and sneak around. Who writed this? Survivor help the fellow who did. Maxill had glanced upsetly around the room once before slinking back under his table. Oh, he wished to have been in the Survivor hisself's crew. That would have been the experience of a lifetime.

Maxill is uneducated and so sometimes has weird grammar and makes up some words. Also, when do you plan to start the game, Meta?

[Gamma Fiend he/him]

I think Meta said last night that he'll allow sign-ups for another 24 hours. We're a couple hours away from then and have a solid 30 people, so far I believe.

Probably just have to wait for Meta to get back online and have a little bit of time to get all the roles assigned and the write-up started. I imagine this will be a mini-headache to sort through already. Good thing Aether is helping out with his lists.

That'll probably take a little bit of time to get organized and written up. I think we should, for the sake of Meta's sanity, probably ease up on all the RP posts for just the moment, until the game gets officially started. This is all good fun and I can't wait til it gets going full swing, but I think 8 pages of character narratives is a good enough foundation for right now. 

Let's just all sit here calmly and sip our alcohol quietly like good little thieving crews.

Edit: I hope nobody took my suggestion as rude or 'wannabe mod-ish', looking back over my text I see there could be that sort of vibe in there. It was just a suggestion out of consideration for Meta, mostly. I just can't believe we're already at 8 pages, and the game and arguments haven't even started!
 

Edited January 27, 2014 by Gamma Fiend

[Swimmingly he/him]

Nobody develop your character, and it'll be fine

[Quiver he/him]

Sit?!? The representative of high lord Olivier just got knocked out by a thug, and you dare command me to sit.

Proxy didn't see the blow coming because, well, who would? So one moment he was sitting, trying to be inconspicuous, the next, his nose had snapped against the wooden floor.

A few moments must have passed in the interim, because when he rose, he was sure he saw more people. Though, on consideration, it might have just been the blow.

"Bu," he said, struggling to his feet and glaring at the man who had displaced him. "Why did bu-"
Then he noticed the bag bouncing in his aggressors hand.

"Unhand that immeb... Immep... Right now," he said. He could taste tin in his mouth, and blood dropped down from his chin to the floor.
"I'bm warning you. Bu don't know who bu are dealing birh. Skaa."
And if the man insisted on challenging him, well, he was ready to show them just who he was. Lord Oliviers messenger was not to be trickled with.

Theoretically.

I'll probably end the interaction stuff soon then. I just figure I'll end up using Proxy to avoid the obligator tattoo problems, and besides- I want my plot hook back!

[Chaos he/him]

Another friendly administrator FYI: Alaxel has been banned and therefore cannot be a part of this game. If a slot was needed, now you have one.

EDIT: This is unrelated to the game, I just wanted to give you a notice.

Edited January 27, 2014 by Chaos

[Shivertongue he/him]

We now return you to your regularly scheduled thread.

[Swimmingly he/him]

Shimble weighed the bag in his hands, feeling the weight of it - it was surprisingly heavy.

A slurred voice behind him sent him whirling around. The black-clad drunkard was threatening him. Shimble was about to let the laughable threat roll of when he the last word struck home.

"Skaa."

Shimble narrowed his eyes - a lifetime of insults against his low birth, and this stranger blabbed one out without having ever known him.

Shimble dropped his canes - only one way to settle an insult like this. He rocked his stool against the bar and pushed off, fists like flapping fish swinging wildly.

When Shimble came to, his coat, shoes, hat, and canes were gone. Only the coins he'd hidden in his socks remained. A black cloaked man leant against the far wall, a bundle under one arm, a bag under the other, and a pair of dueling canes leaning on the wall beside. He spat casually in Shimble's direction - it was red. Shimble groaned and let his skull drop back to the ground.

Not again

[Scriptorian he/him]

Seran bit back a curse as he stepped into the rancorous tavern. He hated crowds and, as he discovered with some dissatisfaction, that someone had already taken his customary stop atop the rafters. Brushing some ash off his cloak, he moved through the room, seeking refuge at a solitary table in the far corner.

 

He waved away a barmaid as he seated himself. He didn't think much of anything that muddied the mind, and there were, of course, those old instincts that made him suspicious of anything he hadn't prepared himself.. Keeping his hood down, Seran glared at anybody who looked like they might try and interrupt his seclusion.

 

He couldn't shake that nagging feeling, a subtle yet almost palpable sensation of dread. The last time he had felt such, he had shortly thereafter been betrayed and ambushed by Inquisitors. He could only hope he was imagining things...

[Herowannabe he/him]

Herwynbe, rushed into the room, looking flustered. Well, as flustered as a trained Terrisman ever looks. Spotting Cessie, he hurried over to her side.

"Lady Cessie, it is rather disconcerting when you choose to wander off on your own like that, especially when we are among the..." He shot a disapproving glance at the man called Shiv, "... The common people. Your father would have wished that I remain at your side, I think."