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RE: ~*Getting To Know You*~

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10/16/2015 16:24:12   
Remaint
Member

Rumblies continued to be spoken, but the undead conquistador supposes he was getting use to it by now. This was not the first time he was the odd-zombie-out in terms of language; every time troops were rotated out of larger platoons or companies, there had always been instances of incomprehension. Indeed, one of the first naval groups he was assigned to intentionally spoke in a differing speech knowing recruits from the North may not very well understand them. It wasn’t an absolutely unpleasant involvement, as once Woyadei had come to work alongside them for some months, he’d picked a few pieces of the unknown dialect for his own use.

“My name is Rajiri, dragon-kin. The rest you needn’t know."

A name and a with-hold in presenting further information. An understandable and familiar concept; various figures including hunters, captives and even his own commanders would give the like on the occasion. It could be interpreted in multiple senses. In the dragon-kin’s place, it’s for certain an unwillingness to trust. It’s easy to sympathise, as the conquistador thought to do so himself, and this realm is obviously not a utopia. It’s likely the dragon-kin’s grumbling attitude leaves a tendancy to draw trouble as well. It's a different story when regarding his superiors; a simple matter of filtering unnecessary information, information that may detract from the focus to act competently.

“I am Woyadei of Shuischeier. The rest you would not care to know.”

The undead was already wondering how potent allies of Rajiri may be. Her posture, manner of Rumblies speech and eagerness to fight all speaks of a highly confident individual that may be cursed with arrogance. Thoughts came to mind as to how many and close such allies may be if she unyieldingly acts in a manner so bold. There’s a possibility of the dragon-kin simply prowling about alone, and given her species, it’s not unlikely. However, it would mean being able to converse without jumping into a sea of politics, which should be entertaining.

“I do have to say, I have a want to learn what I don’t need. How have you been lately? Do you really deal in combat without tools?”

< Message edited by Remaint -- 10/16/2015 17:34:14 >
AQW  Post #: 76
10/16/2015 19:21:20   
Bastet
Member

The zombie did not seem to respond negatively to Rajiri’s aggressiveness, which almost surprised her. Though she wasn’t trying to explicitly provoke the undead, she wouldn’t have had any regret in attacking him spontaneously, her nostrils’ cries for mercy only being held back by the fact that the foul creature was allied to Arche. Rajiri considered that, perhaps, the contract that bound the dragon-kin and the zombie would expire after the latter had been paid, and then she would be free to release her annoyance.

“I am Woyadei of Shuischeier. The rest you would not care to know.”

I guess you are smarter than you look, then. No, I couldn’t care less about your origins or what led you to becoming an abomination, and I certainly wouldn’t come asking.

Rajiri didn’t give any signs that she had acknowledged the fact that the undead had just communicated her his name, rather continuing her walk. Arche received all the respect that she could muster, but that would not mean that she would show excessive friendliness to her companions if they all belonged to inferior races. It always had been a rooted conviction in her that dragons were superior, nobler, and generally deserving to rule over the lesser folk, as was hammered into her by her own father. In the far-away lands from which he and Rajiri hailed, Gilrond had generally been regarded as a scourge of the skies, visiting human settlements only to impose his authority and requesting merciless tributes to keep his anger at bay.

“I do have to say, I have a want to learn what I don’t need. How have you been lately? Do you really deal in combat without tools?”

Rajiri turned to look at Woyadei, not having expected him to attempt an engagement in active conversation with her. She certainly hadn’t pushed to do so, and given the red dragon-kin’s obviously fickle mood, she almost approved of his bravery. Either that, or his brain was so rotten that he had not picked up obvious clues. The girl answered without even turning to look at the zombie.

“Fang, claw and elemental magic are the tools that a dragon naturally possesses, and I don’t feel like any more are needed. Feats that would require extensive training by inferior folk can be naturally performed by dragon-kin many times more efficiently. We are, by nature, faster, smarter, stronger and deadlier than you could ever hope to be. Hand-to-hand combat is all I require to turn away any attempts at ending my life, and I have proven that countless times over the years. By now, enough assassins have been after me that I have come to expect them at every turn. It’s a shame that I could never fight the men behind them, for they are too cowardly to face me in direct combat. Lazy kings, corrupt lackeys and useless courts. That is what the civilizations I have met stood for, and they have always reminded me that the best company I could find is that of my own kin.”

The dragon-kin ended her sentence, letting a moment of quiet transpire, before speaking one last time.

“As for my well being, it is not your concern.”
Post #: 77
10/16/2015 20:35:56   
Remaint
Member

Rajiri is an example of prey Shuischeiren hunting parties would pursue for sport. The undead within the frigid chain of isles participate in the occasional hunt sponsored usually by rich devils and vampires. Said wealthy demonic made it a point to find the most boastful and powerful of creatures for the teams of unliving to combat. The process would involve surrounding some dominant, esteemed beast and have members combat it alone, or creatively in groups. Naturally, the immensely mighty members of Shuischeier are discouraged to take part in the act, as it is one of amusement and spectacle. Such an event was not uniquely Shuischeieren, but the prominence of the area for mercenary and challenge-trailing led to thrill-seekers from all over the Dominion to congregate in that specific territory. It’s also the one Woyadei was most familiar with, as he had engaged in the activity himself.

When--or if- the undead conquistador returns to the Dominion of Mist, the affluent demonic would undoubtly request for information involving individuals like the dragon-kin. He could almost pity the arrogant woman. Many beasts of great power, including draconic fauna, holy colossi, lycans, esteemed mages and such originating from outside the Archipelago were subjected to everything including the wrath of wendigos, mass impalement, shooting squad, artillery fire, toxins, pestilence, relentless melee and more. Quite often, there’s only so much domineering a single potent entity could perform before outside forces make its existence a laughing matter. Hm, before all that occurs, I would attempt to find my own amusement.

The conquistador spoke in a friendly, calm tone.

“In utilising weapons of range, perhaps you could be able to put the lives of those powerful, but cowardly and wasteful at an end. You could also count on the fact that, because masses of those inferior are so willing to go to war, technological advances inevitably increase. Eventually, there may come a day where fang and claw will shatter against something harder, and magic will no longer reach your enemies before they are able to perforate your scales. Furthermore, what once was deemed ever-potent will no doubt cheapen, to the point where any lowly creature will be able to amass power and easily wound those greater. Things change, be prepared for it.”

He had witnessed firsthand himself; mighty wizards of sacred cities, tremendously powerful spiritual guardians, and ancient divine beings falling to the efficient might of simple zombie shooting squads. A smaller example would be himself, 143 meters of mystic range was not a small feat, but ordinary musket far exceeded that. It’s no insignificant fact any mundane being could easily take position as a musketeer or bombardier.

The undead conquistador wondered what the state of combat was in this realm. From what he had seen, the realm was horribly unprepared for an invasion force with even a quarter of the military capacity the Dominion of Mist held. This particular Rajiri seemed to exemplify a problem that leads to the defeat of civilisations; the inflexibility of thought, the hubris of one’s tradition, the overconfidence of ability. This was an absolute contrast to the divine samurai and elven crusaders that sought to conquer the Archipelago of Fog, who in comparatively short notice adopted the native ironclad shipwright, gunnery and plate armour. Well, this is merely one sample. The other dragon-kin hold the correct mindset to survive, and I’ve yet to survey any large regions here.

"It's just a matter of caution. I'm unsure if any pestilence or curse is active upon your person. I've seen some foolish zombies accidentally start an epidemic in visits of diplomacy."

< Message edited by Remaint -- 10/16/2015 20:44:35 >
AQW  Post #: 78
10/16/2015 22:53:26   
Draycos777
Member

Arche could see things would get heated quickly if she left the events unfolding as is. Rajiri, surprisingly answered Woyadei's question, even if she didn't look at him whist doing so.

“Fang, claw and elemental magic are the tools that a dragon naturally possesses, and I don’t feel like any more are needed. Feats that would require extensive training by inferior folk can be naturally performed by dragon-kin many times more efficiently. We are, by nature, faster, smarter, stronger and deadlier than you could ever hope to be. Hand-to-hand combat is all I require to turn away any attempts at ending my life, and I have proven that countless times over the years. By now, enough assassins have been after me that I have come to expect them at every turn. It’s a shame that I could never fight the men behind them, for they are too cowardly to face me in direct combat. Lazy kings, corrupt lackeys and useless courts. That is what the civilizations I have met stood for, and they have always reminded me that the best company I could find is that of my own kin. As for my well being, it is not your concern.”

Of course, Woyadei's reply was less than satisfactory. Arche felt that this would soon turn into a scene similar to the tavern, but this time, the raging dragon-kin wouldn't be her.

“In utilising weapons of range, perhaps you could be able to put the lives of those powerful, but cowardly and wasteful at an end. You could also count on the fact that, because masses of those inferior are so willing to go to war, technological advances inevitably increase. Eventually, there may come a day where fang and claw will shatter against something harder, and magic will no longer reach your enemies before they are able to perforate your scales. Furthermore, what once was deemed ever-potent will no doubt cheapen, to the point where any lowly creature will be able to amass power and easily wound those greater. Things change, be prepared for it.”

Sighing, Arche spoke up to try a deter their conversation from going from bad, to worse.

"-Maybe that is true Woyadei, but it isn't as though we are stagnating as well. The fact that the both of us are here before you, is proof enough. Dragon's have lived on Lore for many centuries, know as one of the strongest races. But why is that? Simply because, while there are many of us believe that other races are inferior, we still acknowledge their ingenuity, and adapt as needed. Such as making magic to take on a humanoid form. Half-blooded offspring that are able to use both the magic, tools and tactics of other races. After all, to know your foe is to be closer to defeating them."

Arche lightly tabbed Ethereal Flame and continued speaking.

"-Learning to survive in every part of the world and changing our element to increase our ability to live there. Even if fang shatters, magic will repair and burn, where magic fails, mental aptitude will lead. Like our conversation before, just as your homeland is built on war, we're know as beast of war on Lore. In fact, the order of DragonSlayers was created because dragons would attack everything they viewed as encroaching on their lands. Hmm, can you tell me this Woyadei."

Arche, still dragging the Grabbi turned her head so that she could see the undead's face.

"-Are the armies of your homeland able to fight underwater? Can they locate an earth dragon tunneling under them? Or keep up with the speed of a wind dragon? Can your cannon's be aimmed correctly when the magic of a light dragon blinds the one who fires it? And what of the other undead? Will they be able to stand against a darkness dragon when the fear it creates takes hold of their unbeating hearts and whispers to them to turn on their allies? Is your metal able to withstand extreme heat? What of extreme cold? Not to mention that each element of dragon has it's own method of fighting. The there are those like me. Ones that have two elements within them. A blessing and curse at the same time. We throw a wrench into the plans that people have made for the basic elements."

Arche looked up towards the sky, in a sort of ponderous stance.

"Even the great Wyrms, where ever they are sleeping, are said to change the climate with their very presence."

Looking back towards the undead, Arche gave a slight smile, hoping that Woyadei would end his attempt at bothering the fire dragon-kin whether it was on propose or not, or at the least become distracted and begin speaking battle and tactics with her instead.

"-We've come a long way from just being fire-breathing lizards with wings wouldn't you say?"

< Message edited by Draycos777 -- 10/16/2015 23:15:50 >
AQ  Post #: 79
10/17/2015 0:45:58   
Remaint
Member


“...Not to mention that each element of dragon has it's own method of fighting...”

The undead conquistador nearly burst aloud laughing. The hell have I gotten myself into? Why are dragons so prone to boasting? In the military circles of Shuischeier they term this “Cock Raising,” an activity, usually done when drunk, where partakers, one being offended, would take turns bragging and counter-bragging, always one-upping each other until stories became straight up absurd. He really didn't intend to stray on that path.

Woyadei wasn’t even sure if he should seriously answer Arche’s question. Have I pissed her off, was I that provoking? Is this some ludicrous attempt at extracting my organisation’s secrets? It didn’t actually matter, however. His masters always found a path to the manipulation of those that stood in their path. There were the days where Harrowshreiken and Remilese forces tried to stand against the old four-nation Confederacy in discreet measure, willingly giving away key strategic secrets, but it was entirely futile of an effort. Targeted civilisations with smuggled modern equipment, formidable ancient magic and combative biology, even aided by armies within the Archipelago of Fog itself all fell with uncountable casualties. Bluntly, Woyadei could reveal all his secrets to this realm and it would make no real difference; the realm would be assimilated and death would claim all. That is, if an invasion was to occur, which no signs told of.

There was another reason as to why he was hesitant to answering the dragon-kin’s potential question; he did not want to be responsible for ushering an age of firearms and perfected armour. If that occurs, the fauna and landscape in this world will be changed forever. Technological evolution was good, but not if it ruined, desecrated and desolated vast areas. There floats about Harrowshreik the concept termed ‘Moth Effect’, wherein a single flap of a moth's wings from one location leads to a typhoon in another, wherein the smallest of actions, or words, could trigger a torrential wave of change.

"-We've come a long way from just being fire-breathing lizards with wings wouldn't you say?"

“I didn’t intend to incur your, or her ire, Arche. I was simply offering a perspective to Rajiri. You should note I have not been in your world for long, and have never described your kind as merely being “fire-breathing lizards.” The dragons from my realm were revered for their power, and your description of them fits well alongside the Necropaleontologists'.”

He continually thought of the former lump of questions and loosed a small smile. Arche seemed a cautious fellow, and probably wouldn’t spark an age of newfound, destructive tactics.

“Regarding the armies, and navies of the Confederacy. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. What about them? Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes, quite expected. Understood. You try, good.”

The conquistador chuckled.

“I’m sorry, it's not my thought to insult, it’s just kind of funny. Confederate records have it that the ego of dragons led to their downfall centuries ago, when they allowed the majority of inhabitants in the old Archipelago to band against them. I’m seeing if I could maybe try to prevent that from happening again. It doesn’t benefit me much to do so, but it’s fun.”

Woyadei tossed his glaive vertically a short distance before catching it.

“Seeing as you voluntarily gave me some combative information on your kind, I’ll hand you the same for the Confederacy of Mist.”

He looked toward the Grabbi. As usual, it was easier to concentrate without eye contact.

“Fighting underwater, is the specialty of Shuischeier. We literally have troops marching across the seafloor in ambushes. There are aquatic allies on our side. Monsters easily beyond ten meters in length armed with hydromancy few terrestrials could hope to match. Sea Dragons, they could be called.” or water-dinosaurs, an inaccurate term.

A mindless squeeze was done on the tentacle he held. His hand might have felt sleepy.

“Underground combat was quite welcome in Harrowshreik, whose alchemists could conjure golems out of nearly any earthly structure. Naturally, this makes them effective in trapping entities, both large and small. It was these very golems who spelt doom for the old dragons. Harrowshreiken golems were damn near immune to magic and require heavy artillery to bring down...or an angry wendigo.” That instance might have been the exception, they didn't call him 'elite' without reason.

Woyadei’s millipede shook itself in a funny manner. Same positions do bore you, huh?

“About flying, and fast. Some brilliant fellows down in Karaser are making machines that could do that. I don’t know the details, and they’re keeping secrets, but keeping secrets in the Dominion means it’s tech too new, too formidable, too world changing. Outside of that, we have normal, quickloading cannon with shot velocity of over 950 meters per second. If you mean keeping up by any means of locomotion, there are vampire lords I know of who can run faster than bullets flying. The Confederacy also has moths. Big moths, impervious to concussion, immune to magic and poisonous to reptiles. Very fluffy too. They’ve trained them to drop grenades, it’s amusing.”

The conquistador looked around. Standard procedure, rather not be surprised once more.

“Luxomancy is nothing new. From the very beginning the old Confederacies fought against paladins, inquisitors and the like. The inhabitants of the Dominion are practically proof against light magic. They don’t seem to even react against magic lasers cast directly against them...us…Moving on, counter-necromancy isn’t modern either. Morseren has worked with the dead for so long, enemy conversion rates for undead have gone down to practically nothing. A multitude of spells could be cast to free an undead’s will. They call Morseren the Asylum of the Dead, if that tells you anything about their experience in dealing with minds long-gone. The Confederacy keeps Dracoliches there, if that speaks to their power.”

He looked glanced toward the sky. It took longer to reach town than it did to reach away, for obvious reasons.

“Mass heat isn’t a concern. The Confederate elves were known for their excellent pyromancy and all sorts of equipment were tweaked to be proof against the interior of a magma chamber. I’ve been in one, actually, really hard to move in magma with a large ship. Uncomfortably toasty, too as one might imagine. We all lost a whole wardrobe on that occasion and they had to blow up the volcano to extract our ship. Its polar opposite, mass lack of heat, is much easier to bare. Shuischeier’s basically sub-zero the whole year round. Cold literally doesn’t do anything against the Dominion. Well, it makes it easier for an acquaintance of mine to carve ice sculptures. He’s an artist-cryomancer you see.”

Woyadei blinked. Has he ever spoke this long? Maybe when he was bloody drunk.

“Of your draconian tactics; have you heard, “All warfare is based upon deception.”? A human said that. Basically, wrenches are always thrown when fighting. Combat is ever changing, ever evolving. Those on the Dominion know this in their bones. The way they...we fight is never the same one battle later.”

The conquistador pondered something to address the Wyrms. Weather? Is she serious? Maybe she’s talkin gods, then for certain there’s that one guy!...No, we don’t talk about him.

“About your sleeping giants, I guess we don’t have an answer to that. I mean changing climates? What do we do, shoot the sky?” Woyadei chuckled.

“Then again, there’s a story about how two great empires losing entire armies against one other because of Winter. Their accomplishments included nearly conquering their entire continent, but a after a fateful victory, they had their troops pursue a retreating force to the East, far East until Winter came and froze everything, leading to starvation, mass desertion and great losses from guerrilla tactics. Both empires existed near a single century from one another, and the Eastern nation was key in defeating both of them.”

Woyadei eyed Arche.

"Again, I don't mean to insult. Simply giving information."


< Message edited by Remaint -- 10/17/2015 2:43:57 >
AQW  Post #: 80
10/17/2015 8:32:21   
Bastet
Member

"Again, I don't mean to insult. Simply giving information."

Rajiri actually had listened to the conversation that took place between her fellow dragon and Woyadei, though she made it look like she was completely uninterested. The mere idea that the undead came from a nation as strong as the one he described, if it existed at all, almost intimidated her. This.. “confederacy” could easily take over the rest of Lore, if an invasion force with such superior arms were to invade. The resistance they would face would not be a match even if the rest of Lore was to unite against them, and that wouldn’t have happened. Even Rajiri, an individual that strayed at the fringes of civilization, knew that the rulers of different regions would never stop fighting each other even in the face of such a threat, and by the time they realized their mistake it would be far too late.

The dragon-kin was not sure how much her life would change under such circumstances, but she was fairly sure that even her father would be eventually brought down by a force whose technological advantage was so strong that regular armies were minor threats. Even if Rajiri was to swallow her pride and go into hiding instead of actively fighting the enemy, it wouldn’t be easy to disguise herself amidst the undead. At best she’d die fighting for what she believed in, at worst she’d end up a lab rat for some mad undead who fancied himself a scientist.

Even the skies, traditionally recognized as the dominion of dragons, would be threatened by the machines that Woyadei claimed were in development. One small fact that gave Rajiri comfort is that they couldn’t have possibly built some kind of flying contraption able to resist the assault of a dragon. From her perspective, it was simply impossible to build a machine strong enough to brawl a pure dragon out of the skies without the assistance of extraordinarily strong magic. Rajiri shook her head briefly, while still walking, stopping herself from considering the negative outcomes of an undead invasion.

The red dragon turned to her kin, once again finding comfort in the fact that she could speak Draconian to another and be clearly understood, without interferences from the commoners who would not understand it. She had absolutely no regards for the zombie.

”I really wish you had favored the company of another, Arche, this foul zombie has a mouth too wide for my liking. He speaks of a nation that, as his description hints, possesses such an advantage over the rest of Lore that they could effortlessly sweep any enemy from the battlefield. If these are all lies, it would mean that this creature deserves to have the life stripped from its body once again, and if he is speaking the truth we could not possibly defeat such invaders. I have very little care for the way kingdoms expand their territories, but falling under the rule of undead would radically change our lives.”

Rajiri addressed the zombie again, after Arche had intervened. Woyadei had made mocking gestures just as often as he had apologized, but perhaps there was useful knowledge to be gained from the creature.

“I’m not as inflexible as you describe, zombie. Fighting in hand-to-hand is as convenient for me as using any other kind of close-quarters weapon, except for the fact that I don’t have to lug around steel to be able to defend myself. That, and non-magical weapons wouldn’t increase in strength nearly as much as my claws do as I tap into my powers. This is not to say I wouldn’t use ranged weapons if I found one that was effective enough to be worth carrying with me, but that has not been the case so far. Bows are too slow, too inconvenient, and I haven’t received any training in their use.”

The girl sighed once, a part of her mind wondering why she was humiliating herself by bothering to talk with such filth as an undead creature.

“My fighting techniques are not expanding merely because I have not found a weapon that surpasses what I already have. If I had a chance to find a reliable ranged weapon, I wouldn’t hesitate to adopt it.”
Post #: 81
10/17/2015 12:22:45   
Remaint
Member

The undead conquistador gave a few nods toward Rajiri’s response. He hoped the first couple lines of Rumblies didn’t differ all too much from the second batch of sentences in Commontongue.

“Good, good. Reasonable, I suppose. I'll hypothesize, your claws are a weapon reliant on mass and velocity; it’s unlikely you increase the mass very much, and even if you do, there’s a limit, until its weight becomes a burden. Leaving velocity, you likely gain significant increases in strength with the reversion to draconian form; a burst of speed require a burst in energy. The limit of your ascension in close quarters power is velocity; humanoid limb can only move so fast.”

Woyadei took the very end of his glaive and moved it slowly, ‘drawing’ an angle.

“You know how a wheel behaves; the mass most exterior to the wheel moves the quickest. I move my hand a few degrees in a few seconds, and the very end of my glaive moves several more degrees in that same time. Rajiri, I posit to you that even wielding mundane tools would increase your effectiveness more than your claws, provided there’s enough length and, or mass.”

The conquistador slid his glaive into a more typical position.

“There’s plenty of methods to harness that surge in velocity. A simple sledgehammer would allow you to break arms past shields. A thrown rock becomes more lethal than arrows loosed from bow, unless of course you make use of very high draw weight bows. A bow is a weapon of strength; it does not demand too much practise, given your draconian nature. Particularly strong species in my home archipelago made formidable use of the bow for a long while; only when gunpowder become widespread did they gain a rival in range.”

Woyadei tilted his head and grinned.

“It could be quite effective, if you lug a cannon around. A bludgeoning tool and a firearm. Would look funny.” He pursed his lips. “Would also be cumbersome. The ammunition would also have to be stored somewhere, too. Hm, I suppose that’s only decent if you have a platoon supporting you. A big musket or handcannon should do fine. Then again, you do favour to be close and personal, and so thrown rocks would service as a ranged tool, a cheap and costless tool.”

The dragon-kin originally didn't appear to be interested in speaking Commontongue, and she very likely still disfavoured speaking the language of norm...especially with the likes of Woyadei, but whatever he was doing, it got her to use standard speech. He didn't expect much to result from this conversation regarding the grumpier woman, but it was more interesting than simply mucking about in his own thoughts. In addition, he held a glimmer of hope that he may ally with her; despite his description of the Confederacy, the undead conquistador couldn't expect reinforcements for himself. No authority would spare a significant force for one mere pawn. I really do need an alliance here...


< Message edited by Remaint -- 10/17/2015 19:15:35 >
AQW  Post #: 82
10/17/2015 14:39:20   
Apocalypse
Member

Candles' little speech was a bit on the theatrical side for Nilburke's taste, but there was some truth to her words. Grandiose events in history were often marked by the presence and actions of a ragtag group with a cause. This gathering was filled with misfits that even fit the role stereotypes: Brute and Thief played the part of warrior and rogue, Wheat was the archer, and if Candle' dress or bare feet were any indication then she was a mage (Nilburke had run into a number of druids in his time who swore off footwear to always maintain a connection with the earth below them). The goblin himself was taking the part of the token 'Other' to teach little softie children that other races were not all rotten to the core. All they needed was a bard to fluff some comedy in with the tragedy. Just thinking about the possibility of Candles being right was making his head hurt. If he was fortunate, then perhaps the gods-that-be would at least allow him a little more drinking and some card playing before tossing him about in the whirlwind of change.

The barkeep set a deck and full mug next to Nilburke's plate as he picked the last bits of meat off the bone. He wiped away the spittle around his mouth with the back of his hand before jumping to the floor, landing a bit unsteady on his feet. The goblin righted himself before reaching his hands up to grab the deck and drink Tucking the cards underneath his arm, Nilburke grabbed his bag and dragged it to the nearest table, the bottles rattling in a cacophony of glass.

"One," began Nilburke, directing his comments to Thief, "if you think Candles wants socks then you're a bigger fool than I thought, and that's saying something. And two." He paused to clamber onto his seat with less grace than he had hopped onto the stool earlier. "It wasn't a request. I don't co-mingle with strangers who haven't even the decency to play cards with me." With flicks of the wrist, Nilburke tossed cards around the table to make five piles - one for each of his new companions and himself. "Besides, there's no gambling in 'King Catcher', so your purse is safe." In truth, Nilburke's kind of goblin did not gamble at all due to their lack of a 'proper' monetary system. They valued what was beneficial and filled their needs without the need for a middleman. Money could buy things, but a coin could not stave off hunger or feed the mind.

Besides, gambling was just a respectable way to rob one's friends. Only softies could come up with a system for such a convoluted concept as that.

Nilburke continued to divvy up the cards. "Rules are simple enough, even for those who don't know where they are or how they got here. And speaking of which..." The goblin cleared his throat. "I am Nilburke of Gulhorn. Unlike the lost twins, I know how I got here. I took a southbound road and am en route to the Academia Collective at Hrah Thorn. Upon request in exchange for some agreed upon services, I will be giving a few lectures on the basics of alchemy. Turns out the last twit they had teach had forged his mastery papers." Nilburke snorted. "He wanted to make an impression the first day and mixed some blasting powder with essence of phoenix feather. Got the measurements wrong. Bugger burned half his face off and the eyebrows of everyone in the front two rows."
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 83
10/17/2015 19:39:32   
Bastet
Member

Rajiri was reasonably interested in what Woyadei said as he gave her a practical demonstration of why he thought that using a weapon would be superior to unarmed combat. At the very least, she was dedicating him more attention than all the rabble she met received. It still wouldn’t have mattered to her what advice the zombie would have offered regarding melee combat, for she had already found her calling. Knives, staves, spears and swords used by offending assassins had always been turned away by her sheer resilience and power, for she felt that the true power of her draconic form could only be realized by the use of her own claws. Other weapons would not gain as much power from the transformation, as she had already explained.

If anything, the undead speaking to Rajiri had now moved to arguments that didn’t increase her ever-so-high hostility in his regards, rather capturing her attention by offering a conversation that the dragon-kin could actually gain some potentially useful knowledge. She didn’t make any attempts to communicate the fact to the zombie, but anyone that could successfully engage the red dragon-kin in conversation without receiving any insults as to their inferiority for more than a few sentences could already consider themselves extremely successful.

“It could be quite effective, if you lug a cannon around. A bludgeoning tool and a firearm. Would look funny. Would also be cumbersome. The ammunition would also have to be stored somewhere, too. Hm, I suppose that’s only decent if you have a platoon supporting you. A big musket or handcannon should do fine. Then again, you do favour to be close and personal, and so thrown rocks would service as a ranged tool, a cheap and costless tool.”

The dragon-kin answered the undead’s suggestions with her own considerations not long after he had stopped talking.

“I couldn’t judge the effectiveness of the firearms you speak of, because I have never seen one for myself before..

Unless I count the one time a peasant tried to dispose of me using some ball-firing contraption he called an arquebus.. which simply ended blowing up in his own face. That is the only assassin who failed so terribly at his job I briefly considered letting him go. If he hadn’t begged for mercy, I probably would’ve, too.

..but if they are as effective as you say, I certainly wouldn’t have regrets in carrying one with me. As for melee weapons, I retain my certainty that my full potential can only be achieved through hand-to-hand combat: any other tool would not allow me to exploit the power of my blood as efficiently. I also have had experience in using the surrounding environment to my advantage, and I am certainly not a stranger to rock-throwing, though I tend not to carry my own supply with me.

Rajiri’s walk betrayed the fact that she had become more comfortable with the company she had found. All suspicion of Arche was abandoned as soon as she revealed that she was one of her kin, while the zombie had finally stopped offending her, whether he was doing it involuntarily or not. Truth be told, his mere presence annoyed the red dragon, due to the fact that his foul smell irritated her sensitive nostrils, but she could tolerate it for as long as the undead himself wasn’t bothering her and Arche wanted him alive.

< Message edited by Bastet -- 10/17/2015 19:40:21 >
Post #: 84
10/17/2015 22:24:04   
Sigil
Member

Processing information in the form of inductive logic was not, admittedly, Keystone's strong point. While by no means stupid, his formal education came from abbreviated sources of less than pedigreed establishments. More simply put, he had more pressing issues during his childhood than philosophy or "solving for X". When he became reliably capable of attending to he and his family's food and safety, Keystone sought to better himself.

Well, if not sought, persay, he didn't pass up an opportunity.

Nevertheless, lack of structured book learning aside, some things became clear to him. For starters, the caravan for which he had been searching obviously never came through here. Had it, there would be open talk in this small hamlet. Moreover, he knew many of the people guarding those wares; several of them would have already been through this very place of alcoholic respite. Likely, a couple would still have been present in various stages of inebriation. These were the people with whom he associated in earlier years, he knew them well.

Continuing with his minor epiphanies, he realized that if his caravan had never been through here, then his own presence was very likely unrelated, meaning his unceremonious nocturnal kidnapping by the Powers That Be was for an alternate purpose. Or they were playing a rousing celestial game of "Pin The Tail On The Keystone" yet again. On the off chance that he was here for a purpose, he had a feeling it may have something to do with his new acquaintances. Either he needed them or they would need him, and fairly soon.

Postulating further, it looked as if Verna's observation of the situation may very well be accurate - each one of the individuals present in their little group had their strengths, weaknesses, and complimentary skills. Fate seemed to conspire to get these people under this roof, even from across Realms. This meant something.

At that moment, Keystone was grateful he was taken while he slept against a tree, and not while he was dropping a growler behind one.

The feeling of gratitude faded, replaced by a sincere desire to be sociable. He accepted Nilburke's drink with a nod, motioned to the barkeep to refill his beer, and sat down in front of a pile of cards. He looked to the most recent arrival, saying flatly, "C'mon, Thatch. Looking at the way you dropped in on us, a few hands of ante-free cards and local booze is a big step up from whateverthe'ell you were doing five minutes ago."

He directed his attention to the two women at the bar, "Wouldn't hurt you, either. I've a feeling we're about to get drawn into something godawful, may as well get to know each other first. Afterwards, I have an idea... A right awe-inspiring one at that."


< Message edited by Sigil -- 10/18/2015 8:09:10 >
AQW  Post #: 85
10/17/2015 23:48:51   
Draycos777
Member

Arche listened to Woyadei's reply with great interest. If everything that he said was true, then he did indeed come from a great nation, if not a rather sad one that seems to have stripped his world clean of mysteries. But, if truth be told, it was probably the same as what Arche was doing herself.

”I really wish you had favored the company of another, Arche, this foul zombie has a mouth too wide for my liking. He speaks of a nation that, as his description hints, possesses such an advantage over the rest of Lore that they could effortlessly sweep any enemy from the battlefield. If these are all lies, it would mean that this creature deserves to have the life stripped from its body once again, and if he is speaking the truth we could not possibly defeat such invaders. I have very little care for the way kingdoms expand their territories, but falling under the rule of undead would radically change our lives.”

Rajiri made her option of Woyadei's tale to Arche known before answering the undead in the commontongue. Though she didn't agree about killing him for boasting, she would indeed be disappointed if everything Woyadei said turned out to be false; though the reasons might differ from Rajiri's.

Woyadei went back to speaking about weapons to Rajiri, the humor in his voice coming back, to Arche's disappointment.

"Damit, can't you take a hint?"

Arche wasn't able to see Rajiri no matter what angle she looked, so she had to judge the fellow dragon's mood though sound. Oddly enough, although Rajiri was clearly one of the more prideful of her kin, she continued to speak with Woyadei in a rather calm and not-slaughter-everything voice. Arche breathed an inward sigh of relief. There wasn't going to be any tavern scenes for right now. She then smiled and addressed Rajiri in dragontongue.

"-Heh, even though he's an undead, you seem to be enjoying the conversation more than you're letting on. To still be speaking with him. Even though he may be my guest 'til we get back to town, I'd thought you'd ignore him."

She then continued in common so that Woyadei could understand as well.

"-Interesting. I'll admit that is indeed amazing. But, I believe you might be underestimating Lore as a whole a bit. We aren't all that far off, you just don't see it because not everyone has the same level of advancement here. The Drakels, with their massive cities protected by force fields, only those invited or great heroes are allow to enter. They have technology far more advanced than any race on Lore. fueled by magic and metal; magiscience. They have made powerful suits of armor, flying scout machines, swordguns, mana drainers and even have machines that can fly in orbit around the planet. If the word on the street is to be taken with any grain of truth, then the next project underway is that they are building metal naval ships that can fly through the sky powered by wind magic and wind crystals."

As Arche spoke about the contraptions of the Drakels, a spark of light could be seen in her eyes, that were beginning to slit.

"Ah. -If I had been born twenty years earlier, then maybe I could have been on that project. Just think of building such a construct from the ground up. Flying it through the air, a feeling I'll never know for another hundred years or so; though my father says it's a feeling that you never forget no matter how many times you take off. To test out the mechanics of those great ships with the aid of the fastest of wind dragons. An aerial ship resistant to most physical attacks, and with enough mages onboard, magical ones as well. Creating magical items that are beyond belief or help improve life, that is my ambition as a dragon. Truly, on Lore the Drakels are quite scary themselves. I myself only know of this information because my family does business with them, and I'm sure I'm missing most of the fine details."

Arche turned her head to see Woyadei, her eyes completely dragconic now, and some of her teeth noticeably sharper when she spoke.

"Of course, I wouldn't mind taking apart some of the items you spoke of as well. There would be much to learn from them. As you said, “All warfare is based upon deception.”, but like I said earlier, to know your foe is to be closer to defeating them. I took no offense to what you said, was merely stating that dragons aren't as stagnate as people believe. Though your reply brought up some very interesting tools. And as for hand-to-hand combat. My sister is the same way, preferring to fight without weapons that she feels simply get in her way. So I crafted a pair of magic gauntlets for her, placing runes on them so that she can draw on her magic much better, while still being able to use her fist to pound everything into the ground."

Arche turned to Rajiri while thing about what it'd take to make something like that again.

"What do you think? Interesting?"
AQ  Post #: 86
10/18/2015 1:17:25   
Remaint
Member

The undead conquistador, a confused conquistador now, surveyed the appearance of the draconic woman to the group’s fore. He rubbed his eyes and looked upon her again. He blinked. Arche took on a notably more demonic form once more. Demonic. Woyadei grinned.

“Your appearance alone makes me question if I’m actually on another realm, instead of being stuck as some test subject in Morseren or Naktenvale. Demonic kind from the Dominion had a reputation for messing with minds; what you are saying matches quite easily to the visions I saw when they dipped my severed head into a chronomancy-related black-green oracle fountain. Well, except in place of ‘Drakels,’ there were terrifying green ghosts and spirits encased in impregnable robots wielding all manner of inconceivably potent tools. There were obsidian black and eerie green ships in the sky that couldn’t have possibly float in the water, which somehow were propelled to the speed of light.”

The undead loosed a small laugh, but his next sentences were rather solemn.

“But because I’m sure I’m actually on another world; Arche, you sound as though you think the Confederacy is invading Lore. You asked for the capabilities of the organisation associated with myself and I provided answers. I didn’t pass any judgement on the state of Lorian military capacity, so why do you suggest that I am underestimating Lore?”

He paused for a bit, to introspect.

“I suppose it did appear as though I was merely bragging. Perhaps adopting a tone of humour was not a decent choice to make regarding rather grave matters. It sure as hell would be in Shuischeier! I understand how you may be led to believe I am potentially against your world in some form, but you have my word, if that even means anything, that I do not intend to invade.”

From what the conquistador could recall, the noble hunter had been the first to question his association in a defensive manner, directly after he himself gave what should obviously be the cautioning answer toward an incredibly boastful individual. What's his conclusion and response supposed to be if phrases used are like "...and I don’t feel like any more are needed...", "...than you could ever hope to be..." and "...Hand-to-hand combat is all I require to turn away any attempts..."? In the conquistador's thoughts, Arche seems to catch the wrong idea astoundingly easily. After the damned tavern scene, I shouldn't be surprised, but I bloody am!


< Message edited by Remaint -- 10/18/2015 2:13:04 >
AQW  Post #: 87
10/18/2015 2:06:29   
Draycos777
Member

“Your appearance alone makes me question if I’m actually on another realm, instead of being stuck as some test subject in Morseren or Naktenvale. Demonic kind from the Dominion had a reputation for messing with minds; what you are saying matches quite easily to the visions I saw when they dipped my severed head into a chronomancy-related black-green fountain. Well, except in place of ‘Drakels,’ there were terrifying green ghosts and spirits encased in impregnable robots wielding all manner of inconceivably potent tools. There were obsidian black and eerie green ships in the sky that couldn’t have possibly float in the water, which somehow were propelled to the speed of light. “But because I’m sure I’m actually on another world; Arche, you sound as though you think the Confederacy is invading Lore. You asked for the capabilities of the organisation associated with myself and I provided answers. I didn’t pass any judgement on the state of Lorian military capacity, so why do you suggest that I am underestimating Lore?”

Woyadei paused in his reply for a moment; his speech draining Arche's excitement over the thought of taking apart new magical items.

“I suppose it did appear as though I was merely bragging. Perhaps adopting a tone of humour was not a decent choice to make regarding rather grave matters. I understand how you may be led to believe I am potentially against your world in some form, but you have my word, if that means anything, that I do not intend to invade.”

Arche tilted her head slightly in confusion. With her emotions back under control, her eyes and teeth returned to normal, and she regained her monotone voice.

"-Hmm, I do not thing you are here to invade Lore. I trust the words you said earlier, when you said that your Dominion would not send one simple footsoldier if that was the case. I merely like to speak of tactics and magic tools. As for underestimating, it simply sounds as though you think all of Lore is far behind in terms of advancement. Though it is true that most of it is. If this was not the case then I apologize, I only state what I see."

Then the girl stared at the undead's neck.

"-How was your head severed to begin with? It looks firmly attached without stitches. Magic? Or another method. Or since you're a zombie, are random limbs able to be popped off? Is it natural for the limbs of the undead from your world to pop off? Hmm."
AQ  Post #: 88
10/18/2015 4:46:13   
Remaint
Member

Woyadei panicked, his eyes went wide as his hand left the Grabbi’s tentacle and flew to his neck. The undead was shuddering as he looked over himself. When. When!? He tried to recall the moments that came directly after the fateful plunge into the eldritch waters. Nothing came, it was blank. The moment the breath-stealing visions passed, he fell unconscious. When he awoke, he was in a hospital bed. It was dark, chilling. Shadows stood by, unmoving, ever watching. More blanks in memory. There were hours, or days later where a letter arrived, commanding him to regain his army equipment and rendezvous in Karaser, or so Woyadei thought. It just occurred to him that he couldn’t piece his own timeline in chronological order.

The conquistador frowned. How long have I even served Kleinschar, when did I even transfer from Kampfgruppe von Blau? I’ve been recorded fighting for decades in the former, and scores in the latter! When in hell did anything happen! He drew his dirk and slit a small line in his breeches where his left thigh was. kneeling, the undead grit his teeth as he prepared for the sight that should of came...but pure, unmarred flesh met his eye. I...I don’t understand. When did it happen. Standing once more and sheathing his dirk, he tried to explain.

“They...must have replaced me. I might have died without noticing, I don’t remember, I mean, there is supposed to be damage. Significant damage done to me. I...This body must be another version.”

Woyadei took a moment to breathe--an unnecessary action, but his brain was still human...or so he hoped. Regaining most of his wit, he took out a pocketwatch stained ominously black and flipped it open, glaring straight interior.

“Do pardon my hampered coherency, I do not feel very well at the moment. So to answer your question: long story short, I was younger in my unliving years. Professors of the occult rounded many of us unimportant undead for forced participation in diving head first into enigmatic energies. We tried to escape, and we paid the price. Hulking huge, rotten flesh demons chopped us up from the waist down so that we couldn’t. I stole one of their cleavers and attempted to fight, so they cut off my head.”

He shivered at the thought of having been chased during those moments. Blackened blood painted the floor and halls. Peeled paint reminiscent of dying skin served as decorations, including paintings with freakishly pale women in dark clothing and long, raven hair seemingly reaching out towards him, their slender hands tipped with nails unnaturally long and dreadful. Woyadei ran fast, but the towering demons moved with long strides.

“Various Confederate zombies may easily live when chopped into pieces, grounded into mush or incinerated by means of magic; I suspect I was actually killed, for I lack memory of what exactly occurred subsequent to them dumping my head into the fountain. To answer your other question, yes, the limbs of undead from my world can be ‘popped’ in and out. Things in the Dominion in general became very good at fixing themselves after a while.”

The conquistador sighed as he stared at the seemingly meaningless dark symbols on his watch.

“There are many necromancers and obscuromancers in the Dominion of Mist. I’ve worked for many who lent me their names, I’ve worked for many who didn’t, and many have worked on me. One method of recovery I think has been done to me is Soul-Offer-Body, wherein magic or science, or both are used to summoned a spirit long, or shortly been cast away, into a body deemed identical to its former. Sometimes the newer body possesses traits of the older one, sometimes the person didn’t actually die. Either way, a person recovered is always missing something, usually their memories.”

Woyadei’s expression fell grim as he pondered the possibilities. He probably died when his head became submerged in the grisly fluid, eventually anyways. There was an off-chance he didn't, and that's where the aforementioned S.O.B recovery's side effect came into play; another being is created. A clone is created. Such a phenomena can help to explain the conquistador's void of chronological sense. The conquistador shook his head. He was presently in another world with its own perils; there’s no point in meandering about the hypothetical.

Closing the clouded-skull marked device supposedly used to tell time--couldn’t even read the bloody thing! the undead shoved it deeply into one pocket in his coat and exhaled sharply. He took a tentacle and continued dragging the Grabbi along.




< Message edited by Remaint -- 10/18/2015 17:35:06 >
AQW  Post #: 89
10/18/2015 13:08:05   
Bastet
Member

"-Heh, even though he's an undead, you seem to be enjoying the conversation more than you're letting on. To still be speaking with him. Even though he may be my guest 'til we get back to town, I'd thought you'd ignore him."

Rajiri diverted her attention to Arche as soon as she smiled towards her. There was no danger of her kin talking about subjects that would annoy her, mostly because she felt that only who shared the blood of dragons could possibly understand her. After the shadow-aligned dragon-kin finished asking Woyadei more questions, and the zombie answered in a confused manner, she talked back to Arche.

A zombie that talks could be worse than one who doesn’t, but this one is currently managing to not irritate me excessively. I still would jump at a chance to end his life when he is no longer under your protection, my kin, for he is an abomination that has no place in this world. He just gave you a show of it. The only reason that would bring me to spare him is that there may still be some knowledge to be gained from him, though it may not take long for him to outlive his usefulness.

The red-dragon then turned back to watch Woyadei, disgusted by his display of lack of control over his own body, and immediately regretting what she had just said. Bearing with the zombie’s smell was one thing for Rajiri, but she absolutely despised weakness. Such decay was the most expected outcome of extending a creature’s life past its due time, and she couldn’t even begin to imagine visiting a country where almost every citizen was an undead put under such conditions. If the entire Confederacy he was talking about was populated by undead like him, perhaps it wasn’t as much of a threat as it was made up to be. Rather than talking with the zombie, Rajiri spoke in Draconian again.

You have provided me with a sufficient explanation as to why you would want to have this undead travelling with you to defeat the Grabbi, but letting this corpse continue its journey is nigh-inexcusable. In a few hours, he probably won't even remember his own name. I am a better companion in countless ways, and nobody would come looking for him so far away from civilization... and his homeland. Take your protection back, and I will rid you of him myself.

Continuing to keep up pace with the rest of the group as she talked, Rajiri took to observing the undead again. The fact that she had indirectly threatened Woyadei was betrayed by the fact that some of her scales surfaced in place of her skin again. She had good control over her powers, but some of it always surfaced according to her mood.

As for your offer, Arche, I would be honoured to learn more about these crafted gauntlets you are talking about. I could benefit greatly from them, if they are as effective as you describe them to be. Unlike the melee weapons suggested by this zombie, they wouldn’t even force me to change my fighting style. However, I may not be able to repay you in coin, as I don’t carry any with me.
Post #: 90
10/18/2015 17:21:53   
Remaint
Member

The fact that orange scales had resurfaced on to the formerly antagonising woman caused Woyadei to frown. He had thought they only appeared during instances of conflict. It still was rather comprehensible, given he had explained what he suspected was the occult process used to return him into the same plane of existence. More Rumblies were spoken along, in possibly more threatening tones before, but that could simply be the conquistador imagining things. Nonetheless, currents of electricity loomed from the interior of the undead’s body. They did not flow strong, but it was a definite sign that disdain was significantly building.

Truth be told, Woyadei held a suspicion that his transfer into this world is for an ordinary reason; the inhabitants within the Dominion of Mist were infrequently subjected to tests at times. Once an individual, demonic or undead humanoid usually, gained the point of self-reliance, higher-ranked command may deport the person exterior from the brutally perilous archipelago into less dangerous realms, but the person will remain alone. It was a matter of versatility improvement, forcing troops out of their specialisations and into keeping an adaptive mind. The conquistador did not like it, however. His superiors must have known about his...defect. Woyadei wasn’t entirely stable, in more ways than one. Army command might have attempted to hammer the weakness out.

His giant millipede had left its former position, as it was now directly equidistant between the conquistador himself and the potentially more hostile dragon-kin. If he could, Woyadei would hold his breath, but he simply glanced about. Often at times, the cavalry mounts that accompanied him detected potential trouble far before he did, and in this moment, it sent the conquistador into alert. Though not yet primed for an attack, his hands would be quick to take hold of his glaive and swing with the skill of a veteran who fought for scores. The obvious problem is, as usual, he wasn’t too sure what the threat may be. Woyadei can only hope it will not be Rajiri, as combating her may very easily grant Arche reason to aggress as well. Confidence was high when fighting an individual, especially unarmed and strength-reliant types; combined with such a versatile melee tool, the greatest dueling weapon according to a certain master fencer, and his molniromancy, Woyadei was one of the better single-combatants outside the Dominion. When a second adversary is presented, no matter how poor her choice of farming tool, the risk-evading conquistador would be forced to retreat; an easy feat, for Kleinschar was a wickedly mobile fighting force, and in a fraction of a second Woyadei will be a Dragoon riding towards the tavern in speeds only the fastest of horses could overmatch.


< Message edited by Remaint -- 10/18/2015 17:50:30 >
AQW  Post #: 91
10/18/2015 22:57:44   
Draycos777
Member

Arche frowned as Woyadei came to his realization of memory lost. Although he could remember and explained the events just before and leading up to his demise, the rest seemed to be a blank to Woyadei. He did, however, confirm that the body parts of the undead from his world are remove able. Rajiri also had her own choice words about the undead's actions, which she again shared with Arche.

"You have provided me with a sufficient explanation as to why you would want to have this undead travelling with you to defeat the Grabbi, but letting this corpse continue its journey is nigh-inexcusable. In a few hours, he probably won't even remember his own name. I am a better companion in countless ways, and nobody would come looking for him so far away from civilization... and his homeland. Take your protection back, and I will rid you of him myself. "

Arche shook her head, denying the offer.

"- If I had been raised differently I might have taken you up on your offer, or even may have refused his help in the beginning. But to fail to uphold an agreement is even more inexcusable to me no matter what race I made the agreement with. I feel as though I would be no better than the cowardly lords you were speaking of earlier. I can not speak for you, but, you take the lessons that you were taught as a child by your parents to heart no? I myself was taught how to be a ruler by my father. He like to say, that for a ruler: to capture the faith of the people, one must capture the hearts of the people. To kill him or even agree to his killing would go against this teaching and leave a bad taste in my mouth. I'm sorry for the trouble."

Arche looked at Woyadei with a slightly sad look in her eyes, then faced forward again.

"-Besides, go far enough south and you have the holy order. To the west, and pass the mountains, you have the cursed forest, with necromancers that are less than open-minded about the undead being able to follow their own will. Not to mention that most races view the undead the same way you do. Once Woyadei leaves town, there is a very high chance of him meeting his own end with or without your help. To kill someone like that, just seems to be a waste of energy. A shame really, considering how much I could probably learn from him. He isn't afraid to speak about tactics and weaponry openly and with a level head. I can respect that. I can not, nor will I try to, stop you from doing what you want, as it is not in my place to do so. I only ask that you consider that you withhold you're irritation against him for now."

From Woyadei's story, his homeland sounded much like Granemor, only much more advanced. Much like Granemor, Arche doubted that she would much care for the Dominion. Then, on the opposite side there was the Holy Nation, as Woyadei called it. Holy orders too, had a habit of killing off anything that wasn't human or didn't agree with their beliefs. Rajiri's voice broke Arche out of her thought process, however.

"As for your offer, Arche, I would be honoured to learn more about these crafted gauntlets you are talking about. I could benefit greatly from them, if they are as effective as you describe them to be. Unlike the melee weapons suggested by this zombie, they wouldn’t even force me to change my fighting style. However, I may not be able to repay you in coin, as I don’t carry any with me."

Arche looked up, and turned her head to the side Rajiri's voice was coming from, though she still couldn't see the fellow dragon-kin.

"-Oh, the lack of coin is hardly a problem, and I believe I have all the materials I need back home. Hmm, I would love for you to visit my family's land sometime. But for now, let's just call it in as a favor, that's if you actually end up liking them."

Arche spoke in the commontongue to try defuse the situation a bit.

"-Hmm, we've traveled quite the distance. We should be close to town soon, no? Unfortunately with my hands full, I can not take out my map to check."

< Message edited by Draycos777 -- 10/19/2015 2:14:46 >
AQ  Post #: 92
10/19/2015 10:28:19   
Afina
Weaver of Epic Yarns


 Sana shrugged slightly as she brushed her hair out of her face and glanced around. “I know a tale or two, when being spun or those already completed but that comes with the heritage,” she quipped in a soft tone. “As far as joining in on a game of cards I am afraid you will have to count me out. Not that I have anything against cards or the company but with the luck I am having lately I dare not tempt fate any than I already have. “

The archer was being truthful, after so many drop offs by the fog her luck was not exactly panning out in her favor as of late. One thing after another and here she was in yet another place she knew nothing about. Granted she had received quite the education on various realms over the last months but what good had it done her thus far had yet to be seen. Once she learned enough to get by she was whisked off to another and everything she learned seemed to do her no good because each realm was so very different from the one before.

Perhaps if she ever returned to one of the previous realms it would do her some good but for now it was more of an annoyance than anything else. It surly didn’t help that the people were so different than at home, granted there were some that acted like others but there was just a different feel about them. There was a different feeling about everything, as if something from way back when was pulling at her from the inside as some sort of a warning. But what could it be warning her of?

Stepping over to the main window of the tavern she glanced outside and pondered to herself, listening in to the conversations that happened around her but keeping her mouth shut. Even though she was worried about herself and why this kept happening to her she was more worried about what was going on with her original group and her niece; not to mention the orphans she had been hired to help out. Had the group gathered everything they needed? Was the Cinder Sickness taken care of? What of her second group? Had they managed to find their way home and if they did how did they do it? So many questions and not one seemed to be able to be answered in this current place known as Lore.

Turning she made her way back over to the group she had been getting acquainted with and pulled up a chair; flopping down into it and letting her back slouch against the back of the chair as her arms planted themselves on the rests. She figured she could at least watch them play. Watching how someone handled themselves gambling in any form tended to at least show what type of character they had and if she was going to be around these folks for any given length of time, perhaps it would be a good idea to at least know which ones may or may not put a dagger in her back just to get the arrows from her quiver.

“So while you all play, let us get to know one another. What were you doing or had just finished doing right before the fog rolled in? For those of you that traveled by mist that is,” she said as she laced her fingers and rested them in her lap.
Post #: 93
10/19/2015 16:34:17   
Bastet
Member


"-Hmm, we've traveled quite the distance. We should be close to town soon, no? Unfortunately with my hands full, I can not take out my map to check."

Rajiri took a moment to consider what Arche had told her, not immediately answering to what she had just said. Fortunately for her shadow-aligned kin, she had made a persuasive enough argument to convince Rajiri not to attack Woyadei until she would pull her protection back. Like she had said, he was indeed probably not worth her time, though the red dragon still had some trouble understanding what killing the zombie would have changed, even considering her different morals. The orange scales that had surfaced on Rajiri's skin disappeared as she replied to her kin.

Very well then, I will honour your request. Woyadei won't be attacked unprovoked for as long as you deem him to be under your protection. As for the offer to visit your homeland, I would gladly accept: my travels don't have a specific destination as of right now, so I wouldn't hesitate in following you there. And if the gauntlets you may craft will indeed prove useful to me, I will consider myself in your debt.

It certainly didn't happen often that someone managed to dissuade Rajiri from doing something purely through words, but the red dragon maintained a high respect for her kin, whether she knew them previously or not. Arche was one of the few people that could ask something of Rajiri and expect her to listen. Anybody who she thought was inferior to her would certainly not receive such treatment. Her next few sentences were spoken in the common tongue, so that the undead could also understand. Rajiri moved ahead and close to Arche, looking to relieve her of her burden so that she could take a look at the map she was talking about. Walking with her, she lent her a hand.

“Allow me to carry this Grabbi for you, Arche. I would never turn down a chance to help my kin.”

Rajiri still reserved some concerns about moving towards a human town. Word of her exploits had probably been passed along by then, and considering her general infamy and recent assaults she wouldn’t have been surprised. She wasn’t particularly worried in incurring the wrath of lesser races, but she would rather not have put into a position where she could have been easily captured. Even with Arche’s protection, some of the assassins that were after her may have been frequenting some local inns: meeting one was certainly more likely than finding one of her kin in an unknown forest by pure chance.

The red dragon’s thoughts went all the way back to her first years of wandering in the world, when she had found herself surrounded in a city whose name she had long forgotten. At that point, she was so young that her appearance was a lot closer to Arche’s, though she didn’t carry any weapons with her. This did nothing but boost the confidence of those who wanted to earn the bounty on her head. Her memories of it were so clouded that she could only remember waking up outside the town covered in blood of citizens, some of which belonged to races she couldn’t even name. Only a strong sentiment of anger and a few images of fighting remained in her head, but she didn’t waste any time in moving as far from that city as she could. That had been one of the few times her power had been almost entirely unleashed, and those who were close to her had paid the price for it. No events since then had made her show her true self to that extent.
Post #: 94
10/19/2015 20:16:50   
Remaint
Member

A small series of gestures and dragon-speak were done between the dragon-kin. The noble hunter had given a glance with an expression rather unusual toward Woyadei, who couldn’t comprehend it. Somewhat relievingly, a notably less threatening tone of Rumblies accompanied the look and the undead supposed Arche didn’t intend on taking offensive action.

"-Hmm, we've traveled quite the distance. We should be close to town soon, no? Unfortunately with my hands full, I can not take out my map to check."

Within short order the more hostile dragon-kin’s orange scales had receded and the conquistador seriously wondered exactly what kind of conversation just transpired. The electric current within the zombie was nearly noticeable until he caught sight of the giant millipede crawling away, into its former position of pushing the Grabbi. Speaking more draconian tongue, the undead’s potential enemy moved to assist Arche. Woyadei would have sighed just then, if he could.

Regarding the more mundane topic at hand, the conquistador did hold curiosity at where they might be. The long-unlived undead had long stopped keeping track of time, an annoying habit he had picked up after ploughing through so many fields of moments, so many fields in unending eternity. The conquistador certainly tracked the instances when in striving for war-faring objectives, of course. Efficient was how much of something could be done within timely manner, and Woyadei made great effort to keep efficient.

Something else the conquistador didn’t keep in mind is his actions subsequent to collecting his pay from Arche. It didn’t seem to be a wise choice in continue following the noble dragon, or any dragon at all if Rajiri’s were the norm. He didn’t need to find out what Arche’s folk thought of him should they step in her territory. Woyadei thought of venturing this realm alone, but that was a path very close to the edge; this whole mass of land, and water, were unknown to him, and most commoners could be counted on to not tolerate his kind. There exists for certain undead who could easily fool others of their actual lively status. Blood circulating magic, cell monitoring magic and enhanced replica organs allow for formidable spies and infiltrators. A very sizable amount of undead, especially females, utilise such things, but Woyadei himself saw no reason to use any of similar options given the tasks he knows himself suitable for. One does not need beauty and social acceptance to be an elite fighting dragoon.

Single person-wandering out of the question, there leaves the other travelers hopefully still within the tavern. Sana in particular appeared entirely indifferent to his unliving state, and is friendly enough. In addition, the conquistador could attempt to source the reasons of her teleportation. A reasonable plan, non-hostile enough. If the worst comes to be, her bow’s draw weight is hardly 70 pounds; absconding will lack difficulty.
AQW  Post #: 95
10/19/2015 21:56:18   
Sigil
Member

Keystone made himself as comfortable as possible in the establishment's wooden chair, shifting about every now and again until he found the position that gave him the least grief. He picked up the pile of cards before him and gave them a good once-over, contented slightly by the fact that this game was for diversion purely, and not for money. He hadn't a decent grasp of the rules, and the pictures on the cards seemed influenced by a culture quite unfamiliar to him.

Sana's refusal to partake in the random-ish numerical merriment that was "cards" didn't seem to be an intentional slight to their diminutive companion, point of fact it struck him as being a logical decision to make considering their position. Potentially hostile guests of the alehouse, strange new realm with strange new dangers, culture differing from their own with customs that, if faux pas'ed, may have unintended consequences. Keeping alert and observing their surroundings was a good decision. It was the exact decision he made earlier; his present choice to relax somewhat was due to a slowly forming trust with some of his new companions.

The Goblin, Nilburke, seemed very much like a raspy uncouth miscreant. It was precisely because of this that Keystone was less wary of him. The Fields of Soddoffery from which he plucked individual sods to distribute to people with issues that required them had LONG since gone barren - that is to say: He had zero sods to give. Full trust hadn't quite been accomplished, but there seemed to be an agreement of mutual lack of aggression speckled with points of mostly civil conversation. And cards, apparently. He could work with this.

The lady Nilburke affectionately(?) referred to as Candle, Verna, seemed to possess a spark of guile that made trust difficult. At the very least, they seemed to have a similar sense of conflict morality, if not fully meeting eye-to-eye on the details. She was curious and she was not hostile. Plus, she applauded Keystone's Ass Pyromancy, so she probably wasn't so bad.

The newest arrival, Thatch, seemed friendly enough. He'd keep an eye on him.

Now, the Archer... a small few years older than himself and similar in temperament. While he was certain he'd been in more physical engagements than she, her overall experience as an adventurer was apparent in the small decisions she made with her bearing and body language. Instead of focusing on everything himself, Keystone kept his peripheral focus on Sana. If she tensed, that was his cue to get back on the clock. Not like he wouldn't get a bit twitchy whenever the door opened, but it was a good backup alert.

Keystone stared at his cards for a moment, shook his head, and spoke in Sana's direction. "Didn't get taken by a fog as I was aware, Miss Rawn. Fell asleep on an oak waiting for my turn to lead Watch, woke up here. There was fog when I came to, though, but on this side. Not the first time I've gone Realm-Hopping, mind you, but if it were fog, it came whilst my eyes were closed."

"If'n I recall from my eavesdro... reconnaissance, Unead Guy came by fog for certain."
AQW  Post #: 96
10/20/2015 1:17:58   
Ted Zlammy
Member

No matter how much Thatch thought it, he found two of the things Nilburke said absurd. Especially the first thing about socks! If a person had feet, socks ought to be apart of the equation of life! Especially if they were lovingly hand made by Thatch himself! Thatch had a half a mind to take off one of his boots and show one of his recent creation of socks that had individual coverings for each of his toes! But, even Thatch knew that putting stinky sock feet onto a table was a bit, uh, not very mannerly. So as the barkeep filled his mug Thatch instead turned to the goblin, gestured towards the red head with no socks, and said "I personally find the idea of not wanting socks to be rather silly! I say you ought to let the quicky red head speak for herself! As for your card game..."

Well, the card game was the second thing that Thatch found absurd. Playing cards, and not gambling? Why, what's the point of cards if you can't liberate some coin from people? Especially from those that hated you oh so very much! Seeing people's faces twitch from anger was a past time of Thatch! Sadly, this thought made Thatch, well, kinda of a sad! He didn't know anyone yet that'd tolerate his unreasonableness in this world! So as he paused mid sentence, he couldn't help but stare around the room, and linger on Nilburke in particular.

Everyone else seemed either, well, too nice or wouldn't be too fun to bug, except for the irritable little goblin! So than and there, Thatch decided on something. He shall make this goblin learn to love to hate him, than they shall be the bestest of pals afterward! To do this though, well, he'd need to get the goblin to tolerate him slighty more! So, he decided obliged the goblin in his game, and took a seat across from him at his table whilst bringing his drink with him. As Thatch curiously stared at the cards of his hand, even tilting his head sideways to do so, he spoke up and said, "I'll play your game Nilby! Keystone's right enough in what he said, a game and a drink is a bit better of than where I was before, haha!"

After sitting down though, Thatch couldn't help but be curious about what the archer and Keystone said about a mist kidnapping people. Though, he had to have misheard the thing about there being an undead earlier... Right?
MQ AQW  Post #: 97
10/20/2015 15:20:20   
Apocalypse
Member

Nilburke snorted at the archer's polite denial to the invitation to cards. "Soft," he said in her direction. Not that there was anything wrong with opting out of a game, but allowing an ill bout with 'luck' as the reason was a thin excuse. The goblin crawled up until his knees were on the table to scoop up Wheat's pile before re-distributing them. Brute at least, was willing to play, and trying to drag Thief in with them. Speaking of which...

"What good are socks without shoes? You take two steps and you've already torn through the bottoms. Fat lot of use that is," Nilburke said with a smirk. For a softie, Thief had a bit of a sharp tongue. He would provide amusement, at the very least. Between him and Brute, this softie crowd was not half-bad. He flicked his eyes to Candles and back. The woman in white had identified herself as a troublemaker. A good rabble-rouser had all the craftiness of the common goblin, and then some. This could be interesting after all (besides, Nilburke had a feeling she would be an excellent opponent in King Catcher).

"All right, before we get lost in the hub-bub of fogs and mists and teleporting idiots," Nilburke said as he picked up his cards. "Name of the game is 'King Catcher'. I'm the King Catcher, and you're all the loyal subjects trying to hide 'em. All of you against me, this time. You have to play a card each turn. A heart lets you show a card to friend, a diamond allows you to give 'em one, clubs allows a single trade with a fellow subject, and spades allows a double-blind trade. If I can guess which one of you has a which king, I 'catch' him. I catch all four, and I win. I run out of cards, all of you with cards left win. Those are the basics, I'll explain the rest as we play." He turned to Candles. "Don't let us without now; we need four for a proper game." King Catcher could be played with just three, but it was never as much fun or challenging.

Nilburke took another swig, noting how much more easier it went down. Either the drink was growing on him or vice versa. The goblin would find out soon enough.
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 98
10/20/2015 17:56:16   
Krey
Member

Seemed nobody else was all that concerned about what little twist of fate they'd all found themselves in. This was a little irksome; as a practitioner of tricks and chaos, she liked to be able to make some measure of prediction as to what was coming 'round the corner. When that corner turned out to be entirely blind, she knew well that wisdom dictated a bit more caution in the trouble she so liked to cause which, unfortunately, made her games just a little bit trickier to play. Nothing for it, though, as it seemed about time to play cards!

Even the bard, one of that profession of storytellers, appeared less interested in what was going on here. This was strange to her, moreso than the reactions of the rest; surely a storyteller was always looking for a story to tell? Or perhaps, like many storytellers, she preferred to tell and not to partake. No, that wasn't it. She certainly seemed no stranger to the occasional (Or even, perhaps, the common) scuffle, and so Verna doubted she was the type to flee from the face of danger. Only time would tell, but the trickster would be watching this woman who seemed, to her, just a bit distracted. Perhaps this was simply the result of being torn from where you were and dropped somewhere else.

Thatch, as he'd called himself, seemed shocked at the idea that she might not want socks, though she nodded her agreement with the goblin as she joined the rest at the table. She seated herself in front of the cards which the goblin had dealt her, her eyes shifting to the newest arrival to the tavern with a mischievous glint. “Is it so hard to believe that a lady might not wish to cover her feet?” She asked, her grin wide. “Set aside our friend's point that socks without shoes would be of little use; entirely accurate, by the way,” She said, glancing aside at the goblin, “And of course I'll not leave you without, t'would be a shame to miss your game.”

Her attention returned to Thatch, her grin widened, “Footwear, I find, is rather restricting. A person loses much potential by binding their feet. They're like an extra pair of hands, really, if you learn to use them properly. Why would I deprive myself that benefit?” She cocked her head to one side, “No, I should think I will keep my feet bare forever, though your offer is generous and appreciated.” She took a sip of her drink, her eyes not leaving the newcomer. “Further, bare feet do not fester in their wrappings.”
AQ  Post #: 99
10/20/2015 20:32:39   
Draycos777
Member

Arche inwardly let out a sigh of relief when Rajiri agreed to let Woyadei of the hook for now. Though she wondered how thing would go after they finished their meal back within the town.Hopefully things go smoothly enough and Woyadei is smart enough to stay out of Rajiri's line-of-sight, and hopefully out of mind. She turned her head when she saw something coming up towards her side, and noticed that it was Rajiri herself walking besides her.

“Allow me to carry this Grabbi for you, Arche. I would never turn down a chance to help my kin.”

The red dragon-kin offered her hand in carrying the Grabbi so that Arche could take out her map, which Arche gladly accepted.

"-Ah, thank you."

Handing Rajiri the tail she was dragging, Arche took off the sack she had on her back and moved it to the front so she could look inside. However, she had forgotten that a large portion of the space inside was now taken up by the purple egg she had found inside the Grabbi. She frowned slightly when she realized that she would be about to hold the egg, while holding the sack and sreach for the map. Not without risk of either dropping the egg or her bag; neither of which Arche wanted to happen.

"Tsk," Arche clicked her tongue softly; "-Too much stuff in a small bag."

Arche began to take off her vest as her teeth and eyes began to change. Moments later, out of the top of her shirt appeared a pair of black wings accompanied by a black tail from the bottom.

"Dam, so annoying that I need to do this just to find the blasted piece of paper."

Pulling the egg from out of the sack, Arche's tail quickly wrapped around it and removed it out of the way. Reaching into the sack, she soon pulled of the map she had shown Woyadei before. Tying up her vest on her back, where the sack would have been, Arche closed up the sack and unfolded the paper. Unable to fold her wings over her shoulders like she normally did, due to her arms being in front of her and therefore in the way, they stretched out aimlessly as she looked at the map, attempting to judge the groups position.

"Oh. By the way, Woyadei. Where'd ya put the egg I gave you to hold? The brown one, you did lose it did you?"
AQ  Post #: 100
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