PrP: Silent Incursion - LTP

=================> 16) Silent Incursion - LTP <=================

Open/Closed: CLOSED: This event is only for the Confirmed players below. However, you can still sign up for this event with +event/signup, to let the GM know that you're available if one of the Confirmed players doesn't show up. Poster: Sebropert* Start Time: 05:00:00 PM (LOCAL), Saturday, March 04, 2017 (14m 22s) Location: RP2 - Hextus Level Range: 2-3

Long Term Party - Plot to begin for those that showed interest in a long term party for weekend play (with occasional weekdays).

Out of the frying pan, into the fire, a group of unknowns find themselves in the middle of a meal they might not be able to swallow.

Sebropert GM, Donna, Orenthal, Delilah, Miriai

Violet lights now hang over a plain near distant Alexandria, the ground wrecked and ravaged by creations unknown. Distant rumors across the many nations have sent forth explorers, adventurers, mercenaries, and those of less good intent seeking another such find. Each with their own purpose or story.

Hextus. A small port nation sitting in a most opportune, but dangerous local. Squashed between the Dreadlands, the sandsea of Veyshan, and the infamous Charn Dominion, Hextus has become a place of trade, wealth, and shady dealings. Ships land from all across the Inmost Sea. The sun stands just passed noon, the ocean winds fights the desert sands that spray in from the south. The Bazaar is in full swing, people and beings milling about, haggling, and shouting. Tents display brightly colored cloths, foods, and jewels while their owners shout out deals and offers.

Orenthal originally came here to see about the trade opportunities, but the risk vs reward doesn't look like it's going to work out. The place is a little too shady for a businessman like his father. But there's always opportunities for someone with quick hands and a glib tongue, and so Orenthal is listening to the goings on and trying to locate some of those opportunities.

Normally, Miriai would not be anywhere without His Lady Aznara present. But she was perfectly safe where she was currently at and she asked him to scout ahead and investigate whether there was a need for the two of them to operate together in this new area. The trip here was one where Miriai kept to himself, kept quiet and mostly just watched everything and everyone. He stands in the Bazaar and lets his ember-like eyes slowly swivel left then right then left then right. He's a bit different a model as many of the other golems out there. Sure, he's large and bulky, but he looks more like a magically animated statue than a clockwork man. . . covered in armor, carrying a shield and his axe slung at his waist.

Through the markets, a pair of nearly-identical young woman walk, by dress and mannerisms alone clearly not from this part of the world. "...Sorry, D," says the black-haired twin. "I thought this *was* the right ship, I think we turned too soon on the docks." She brings an oversized, spike-knuckled gauntlet comes up to scratch at the back of her neck. "Shouldn't be too hard to get back though, right? Just a job or something to get passage fare."

"Honestly," replies the second of the two twins, "This is hardly the first time we've taken a wrong turn, in some form or another. Remember a certain forest, after we left Rune? ...I'm sure that was my fault somehow, anyway." She brushes her fingertips through her golden hair, which aside from the colors of their respective getups is really the best way to tell them apart. "A job or two should cover passage though, definitely. Maybe a little extra. ...Which would be good, because I'm hungry, and I'm betting you are too, Donna."

Hunger, business, scouting. The best place for all the bazaar. Titillating scents travel on the wind and drag at the tightening coil in the pits of the stomach. Hunger growls. Hunger makes one do things one normally wouldn't.

Moving swiftly through the crowd, a boy no taller than four feet, bumps into Orenthal as he calls out to a distant friend. "Many apologies good sir," he says, whipping off a large floppy hat to give a bow, with the hat to his chest, and his other hand behind his back. He sweeps the hat back on, and then continues his swift path away... but not before Orenthal notices the weight on his own belt has gotten significantly lighter. Gold lighter. Thief.

Orenthal grah, pickpocketed! Normally he doesn't carry his cash there, but he's a merchant's son just now, and not working for the Explorer's Guild on some dark plot. "Stop, thief!" he calls out, and attempts to run after the thief.

The cries of 'Stop Thief!' get Miriai's attention. He turns his head and diverts his attention towards the crier. But then he attempts to track the thief. His eyes rove about, trying to pick out details such as... whomever might be moving through the crowd with haste as if trying to escape. But he does not -move- so much as just... look. It's not like he is the most perceptive individual. But he does try.

Donna's head perks. Thief? Frowning, she narrows her eyes, scanning the bazaar on the lookout for the disturbances that a running thief would naturally cut in crowds this packed and vocal. "...Keep your gun tied, D," she mutters. "Last thing we want is for *that* to get stolen too." Turning, Miriai begins moving. His plan is to plot an intercept course. To reach a location where this kid happens to be moving towards. If he plans it correctly, he'll be stepping into the kid's path moments before said thief gets there... blocking and looming over him. "Stop. Thief." he states emotionlessly.

Delilah sucks in her breath, then heaves a great sigh. "Yeah, that'd be inconvenient," she agrees, making sure the knot on her holster is good and properly tied. She stands up on tip-toes, trying to get a better look as if that would help her clap eyeballs on what was going on. "...Oh, look," she points out, "The golem over there seems to have things well in hand."

Orenthal skips through the crowd with surprising agility ... for a merchant. He skips around a cart, and tries to go around... no, that doesn't work. Two fat men meet right in his path, and as he attempts to shove his way through, he gets exactly nowhere. "Pardon me." says Miriai as he moves through the crowd. As gently as possible, he uses his shield or his right hand to lever people aside. But after a few times doing this, he raises the tone of his voice and yells, "EVERYBODY MOVE!" And it's like a moment out of a romantic action comedy fantasy movie as the crowd parts like the red sea.

That reveals a row of carts with boxes atop them. He moves... walking and then jogging before trying to go up and over the boxes. He clears the carts and smashes through the boxes. Pieces of wood and contents of said boxes crash to the ground as he keeps moving along. The chase is on, the youth ducks down, his floppy hat and feather a banner atop his head, flapping in the breeze. He clears the crowd, slips through the tents, but an attempt to swing up onto a ledge leaves him rolling in the dirt. Forced to take a new path. Orenthal scrambles up some boxes, sending them tumbling down behind him as he gains altitude. He spots a path between two tents, but it looks too small for him. He growls a quiet curse and looks around for his quarry.

There. Donna's head whips toward the furrow in the crowd leading the two larger, and thus more visible, chasers, and claps Delilah's shoulder. "There," she says, nodding in the direction, and speeds away. Weaving through the crowd, she spots the running child and lowers her shoulder to plow into him... But gets jostled aside, sending her stumbling past the thief with a growl of annoyance.

Orenthal spots an alternate route and hustles through a flap, emerging on the other side and looking for his quarry, trying to gauge his progress.

Delilah rushes off after Donna, threading her way through the crowds, though she skids to a halt further back. Undoing the knot on her pistol doesn't take long; and as she draws it she pulls back the hammer with a loud click. "I think this whole thing's gone far enough," loudly declares the golden haired twin, after the thief manages to avoid getting flattened by her sister. She lifts the weapon and levels it square at the approaching thief's forehead, right between the eyes. "How about you stop right there and nothing bad happens to you? Better odds than you'll get from the guard, kid. Better take 'em."

Seeing the kid up ahead, Miriai turns his head left, then right. Kids to the right. He turns left and begins running. His feet step over the lip and he tromps through the water. Splash Splash Splash... and then he crests the other edge and skids to a stop, dripping water everywhere as he turns to face the thief. "STOP. THIEF. You may return what you stole and depart. Or you can resist and I will hold you for the local constables." The thief seems to be making good speed after his tumble, but the wily golem finds the best shortcuts. In the crowd two sisters stand, and one makes a move to stop the thief. With a stiff arm and a spin he moves around her, rolling back to back with her before heading forward straight into... the barrel of a firearm.

Whelp! Time to turn around. Right into the big golem that has been chasing him. And not too far behind the man he stole from. Crud. Orenthal and these other helpful people have run down this little bilge rat, and as he catches his breath, he holds his staff threateningly. "You can return my coin now, guttersnipe, or I'll beat your backside like you've never had before and you won't be able to sit for the rest of your life." He'll reach out to try and take it from the kid, now that he's got his breath back.

"He's got a gun in his face," says the dark-haired twin, pushing off the edge of the cart that she'd folded herself over after her aborted tackle. "Pretty sure he's not going anywhere." Dusting herself off, she moves back to stand next to her sister. "C'mon, kid. Game's over."

The young 'guttersnipe' lifts both hands up in the air, a small pouch of coin held in the left. The right is missing both a pinky and a ring finger. "Okay, okay. Anything but the guards. There is nothing you can do sir that they ain't already did," the thief says as he waggles the two little stumps at his captors. "It’s all der," he says as he gives a short move of his wrist to toss the bag on the ground. "I swears I was only trying to eat."

Delilah isn't about to keep a gun on the kid for overly long; she gives it a quick spin and shoves it back down into the holster. She opens her mouth to say something, before clamping it shut at the sight of the two excised fingers. "Yeah, well, we might understand a thing or two about trying to eat." She reaches behind her back, under her cloak, and her hand reappears holding a reddish apple, that admittedly does have a small bruise on one side, which she tosses to the kid. "I know that's just an apple, but it'll push the hunger back while you can figure out a better plan."

Orenthal grumbles as he picks his purse up off the ground. As Delilah gives the child an apple, he says, "I'd have given you some coin /if you'd asked/. And now, if I catch you again, you'll -wish- I was the guards." He snarls threateningly, though he can't really match a gun to the face. To the saviors of his purse, he says, "Allow me to treat you all to dinner, then, in thanks for your help."

Lifting a silver coin from a slot where he keeps his coins, Miriai says, "You should not steal. But you should eat." That said, he turns his head, eyes angling towards Orenthal. "I accept." he states emotionlessly.

Donna glances at the apple Delilah tosses to the kid, then up at Orenthal, visible eye narrowing briefly in thought. "One condition," she grunts. "Get the kid something to fill his belly for the day too."

The thief, no more than thirteen, catches the apple with what looks to be passion. A rare fresh treat the likes he does not see often. Such sudden changes to kindness he has never seen. "Um," he pauses. "Thank you! I don't..." He looks both ways, and the sight of guards pushing through the crowd to investigate the commotion sets him scrambling. He bolts, but he calls over the crowd. "I'll pay you back! Abrosh pays back his debts!" And he ducks into the crowd.

Orenthal says to Donna. "If that is your wish, how can I refuse?" He goes to lead the child to a nearby food stall, but the child is gone as quick as that. He can only shrug to Donna, and Miriai gets a quizzical look. But he says, "My inn is this way. The food there is very good. For here, anyhow...."

Emotion is something Miriai is not familiar with. But he shrugs his large shoulder. Then he merely nods and moves to fall in behind Orenthal. Delilah holds up a hand, "Wait--" And then, the kid is gone. She swiftly reties the knot on her pistol, since there's absolutely nothing to be gained by getting into trouble for that. "Well... so much for that, then. An Inn sounds nice; certainly beats sleeping in the streets."

Donna grunts her agreement, lifting a shoulder as the kid runs off without getting his meal. "Lead the way, then."

Orenthal will lead the way back to his inn. It turns out to be quite a nice one, in a slightly more upscale area. As upscale as the area provides, at least. His Tradespeak carries an Alexandrian accent, and he admits, "I am not from here, as you may have guessed. My name is Orenthal, though I would be pleased if you called me Ren as my friends do."

Not far from where they stand now, the Three Trumpeters Inn sits. It is a relatively nice place, with two stories, and a balcony on the back that faces the bazaar.

Within there is a small hall, filled with merchants taking it easy from the day. A stairwell at the back of the room leads up to a common area for those that have rented rooms, and further in there are rooms.

The innkeeper is serving lunch. A simple, but heavily spiced stew, and a brew made from fermented fruits. "Sit sit, I will be with you!" A fat cook calls, as he starts filling bowls with the fragrant mixture.

Following inside, Miriai steps aside from the door. He holds position there and theni says simply, "I am Miriai." It is an Elven word meaning Guard. Yeah, that's all. He's a golem, totally emotion free for the most part. "I will have some stew. Some mass for maintaining my body." he adds.

Orenthal arches a brow at Miriai, and says, "I wasn't sure if we were gonna have to find you oil or what, but I'm glad to share a meal with you. And glad that you helped run down that scamp. My father would have been quite upset had I lost it. It's not his money, it's mine, but that's how he is." He sighs a bit and heads into the dining area, finding a table that will fit us all. He smiles at the cook and says, "The food really -is- good here, surprisingly."

"Donna," The dark-haired twin says as they're waved to their seats. Nodding to the blond next to her, she continues. "Delilah. Not from around here either, looking to get home once we've scraped up some money."

"He was a thief. He needed to be stopped." offers Miriai simply. No comment on the oil or whatever. He definitely doesn't appear to be a machine. As indicated, he looks like a magically animated statue. But deep down? Who knows?!

"At least it's been fun so far," Delilah points out. "We ran down a thief, and nobody got hurt. All in all a pretty good day, I'd think." She clasps her hands behind her head, and hmmms, "But before we go any further, stew and a brew would be fantastic, I think. What do you think, Donna?"

A grunt comes from the dark-haired twin. Clearly, it's easy to see which one does the talking of the pair.

Orenthal smiles at his new friends, and says, "Well met! And fortune favors me at last, after a week of dismal prospects. Meeting you three has been the high point of my week. This area has many riches

I could sell in Alexandria, but there are too many like the boy, who would steal the green off gold if he could for half a groat." He sighs. "The risk outweighs the profit, in that, so I guess I shall have to return home empty-handed, myself."

"My Lady may be joining us soon." offers Miriai. He merely stands there and watches while he speaks… sparingly. He steps forward when food comes out, and takes a bowl of simple stew. "Thank... you..." he states, still learning manners it seems.

Aaaaand now the talky one has gone to freshen up. Donna slumps briefly, not happy at the prospect of having to carry conversation, but rallies. "...Supposed to be in Gustav by now," she says, sipping from the cup handed to her. "Got on the wrong ship."

Orenthal pushes a chair out with his foot, and says to Miriai, "You're welcome to sit down with us, if it won't break the chair. And your lady is welcome to join us. I didn't know golems ... were like that." He apparently is assuming Miriai is referring to a wife, or someone like that. To Donna, he says, "That's a tough break. If I may ask, did you have business in Gustav, or... ?"

"I may be too heavy for your chair. But I thank you for your invite." says Miriai as he moves forward. But he pauses, "Were like what?" he asks. "She is My Lady whom I serve. She woke me from my long sleep and I keep her safe when she is adventuring."

The cook places bowls and mugs before each member of the party, his apron barely containing the girth of his waist. Oiled stains mark the apron, and he smells heavily of spices and smoked meats. He leaves them to their food. Small groups throughout talk. One about trade, another about mercenary companies. Yet another about a lack of mail out east. Messages go out, but don't return. Of course oddities from Charn are nothing new. There is even a young couple having a semi-romantic lunch at a table alone.

Donna lifts a shoulder. "Guild bill, not much else. Probably they've already got more to fill it, but still gonna need work if we want to get back to Alexandria."

Orenthal nods to Miriai, looking a bit puzzled, but nodding along. "Ah, I see. You must be an esteemable companion, then," he decides. He mmms as the food arrives, and serves himself and passes the dishes along as he nods to Donna. "Explorers' Guild? I am sure they will have some work here - there is always work for adventurers, I have found. And if not, there are certainly bandits, and stealing from them is fair game."

"I am loyal." says Miriai as he eats. He does so slowly and methodically. "While I await My Lady, I will do my best to protect those I travel with. I am a guard golem. It is my design to protect others."

"Bandits," Donna snorts, one corner of her mouth curling up. "Not stealing if it's bandits. They deserve what they get, too."

Orenthal grins widely to Donna, and agrees, "It's just as you say." As a merchant's son, he's got a special grudge against bandits in general. "My father would give a bonus for each bandit killed on all his caravans." He nods slowly to Miriai. "That's good, then! I'm glad you were close by, and were able to protect me today." To protect his money, anyhow.

"Bandits most definitely deserve what they've invariably got coming to them," agrees the returning Delilah. She grabs a chair and drags it up to the table to sit beside her sister, whom she gives a playful swat on the shoulder. "That might not be a bad line of work, up here, you think? Go take care of a few bandits, swipe their ill-gotten clobber and get paid for it?"

"Bandits most definitely deserve what they've invariably got coming to them," agrees the returning Delilah. She grabs a chair and drags it up to the table to sit beside her sister, whom she gives a playful swat on the shoulder. "That might not be a bad line of work, up here, you think? Go take care of a few bandits, swipe their ill-gotten clobber and get paid for it?" She leans back in her chair, and stretches lightly. "Don't worry about it, Ren," she adds. "Always a pleasure."

"Those who prey upon others illegally should be stopped." says Miriai as he destroys more of the stew. "I and my axe will lend themselves to this task." he states.

"....Clobber," Donna sighs. "You've been hanging around the Oxley place again, haven't you? Like a fight as much as anyone, but that place'll just get you mashed under a chair, D."

Orenthal nods to the others, and says thoughtfully, "You know. We might turn a nice profit out of this little trip after all. If we choose our quarry carefully." He winces at the mention of the Oxley place. "That place is awful on so many levels."

The sun pulls across the sky in its heavenly chariot. The dark comes as they while away the hours, the small group talking amongst themselves. So much passes around them, the lunch crowd leaves and the dinner arrives. A new meal arrives. Bandits and brew, the patron of the inn comes to the table. "Meal, meal, all to the room friend? I think your guests will be needed a room too, yes?"

Donna sets down her spoon, the bulk of her stew finished off in silence and speed, and looks from the patron to the merchant, one eyebrow rising. "Hunh? Oh, right." She digs into a pouch, spends a half a moment checking to see how many coins are (or more accurately, are not) left inside, and produces a couple. "Yes, we'll definitely be needing a room," she agrees. "My sister and I will share one."

"Not profit what is important to me." there is a pause after Miriai says that. "Upholding the codes and laws is." His head turns and he says, "I would appreciate a place that I can rest."

Orenthal nods to supper, and nods at rooms for his guests. "Two rooms, I think," he guesses, one for the sisters and one for the golem and his mistress if she arrives? "Next to mine if you have them.

On my tab, indeed. These are my close friends!" He smiles to the others. "The first batch of bandits we take down will certainly pay this bill and more besides, do not feel indebted to me. We will all make money together!"

A friendly agreement to work together for fun, law, and profit. A recipe for trouble if ever one had been made in an inn. But for now, sleep. The sun set, and rooms purchased, the weary comrades move upstairs. Up the staircase, past the common area and its balcony. The rooms are spacious, and well decored. The Three Trumpeters does not disappoint. Wash basins and beds of real down feathers bring swift sleep to all involved.

Eluna sits high in the sky, shining her cheshire smile down upon Ea, but her peace is interrupted in the deep night. Calls in the air. Faint at first. Lights flickering in the distance. While this town has its nightlife, this takes a tone decidedly away from fun. They are screams of fear and agony. Loud enough that even the densest creature would be woken in their night clothes to hear it.

Orenthal wakes up in his nightclothes. "Huh? What?" he asks the darkness, reaching for his sword to fend off the demons attacking him. Or something. He rubs sleep from his eyes.

Donna shoots upright at the piercing scream, kicking off her sheets and darting to the window. Heedless of the fact that only a thin, light nightdress separates her from the cooler evening air, she sticks her head out well past the windowsill, eyes flickering back and forth for the source of the trouble.

Delilah, predictably, pulls the pillow over her head and mumbles something about making porridge for the neighbor’s crocodiles in the morning. Then there's a louder scream, and her eyes snap open; she bolts out of bed so fast she falls on the floor, then reaches for her pistol which isn't handy, and then by the look of the runes flaring to life on her arm, very nearly sets the interior of the Inn on fire. "What in hell?!" She scrabbles back up to her feet and, wearing a nightgown quite similar to Donna's, rushes to the window. "What's going on?" Going from inactive to active, Miriai tromps his way to the door. He doesn't say a word at this time, but he's armored, has his shield and axe at the ready as he tromps down the stairs from the sleeping rooms. Golems don't really sleep after all.... they just take some downtime state. He's heading out the front door if he can make it that far without a fight.

The twins standing at the window dressed as they are might normally rally cheers and catcalls, but the sight outside speaks to the locals being a bit preoccupied. Fires burn through the eastern side of the city while people flee this way and that, seemingly without order or direction. Humanoid figures march behind them, hoods and masks hiding their faces, and their blades slaked with recently spilled blood. The bazaar below has become chaos.

Outside in the hallway of the inn one can hear the tromping of the large golem, working his way towards the stairwell. The building seems unmolested by troops yet, but a broken window and a fire burning the stairwell to ash alludes to the use of alchemist's fire.

Of course there are no demons in Orenthal's room, but the flickering of red through the window might lead one to believe demons were outside. The screams of anguish certainly confirmed the theory.

Feet tromping on the flames, Miriai tries to stamp out whatever flames might be present. But then it's downstairs and out into the streets. He's looking for friendlies that he might be able to assist… or enemies who require trouncing.

With a muttered curse, Donna pushes away from the window. Her trousers are snatched up from her pile on the floor and pulled on, the nightdress deemed sufficient enough for the moment. "Delilah," she says, snatching her heavy gauntlets from the end-table and shoving them over her hands, "get your gun. *Hurry.*" With that, the dark-haired twin seems to eschew the stairs altogether, taking hold of the windowsill and vaulting over, waiting until she's at the full length of her arms before dropping to the ground.

Orenthal recovers his wits quickly enough, and pulls his chain shirt over his head, straps on his sword belt, and goes out in his nightclothes apart from that. He heads down to see what might be done about whatever's going on.

Delilah dashes back from the window, hurriedly shoving her feet into her boots and snatching up her pistol. "Yeah, I'm definitely getting that impression," she agrees, after echoing Donna's curse.

For once, there's no snarky or vainglorious comment from the golden haired twin; she just slings her ammunition bandoleer over her shoulder and following suit with her sister, out the window and lowering herself until she can drop safely to the ground.

The 'men' take to the hallway, their path blocked by the raging fire that nips and bites at banister and step alike. The common room is empty, and the doors to the balcony hang open, the curtains fluttering in the breeze. Still, they are armed and armored and ready for a fight. The twins work to take the more direct route, armed but certainly not armored in the nightclothes plus either a pair of pants or a pair of boots. The trip out the window is cut short by the fact that the balcony extends across the entire back of the building. From the railing they can see better the raid that sets the city ablaze. The wind whips in their air, and smells of ash and decay.

A nearby rooftop is only meters away, and a ladder to their right. But down, down is the problem.

Silent troops slaughter civilians, and city guard fight with what little skill they have. A solitary figure stands at the opening of the main road, his wrinkled skin lit by fires. Purple robes flap against the breeze, and piercing blue eyes watch the carnage with glee before he turns and walks away.