Valdeaunia

OOC: note to spike: Please look over currency values on the first post. My suggestions are: for the eat and run would be about 10-20 yhels, the faux jewelry guy- 40-50 yhels, and 1-10 ghels for the weapons smuggler. As for the Aelthir meeting posts so far. It is our fault for not giving you guys an alias to use, Aelthir would not use his real name so freely. His existance in the city is a secret after all. He would be likely to have guards with him as well.





She placed a gloved hand delicately on the proffered arm and gathered her skirts to step down from the carriage. Releasing the coachman's arm, she allowed her skirts to fall back into place and walked down the cobble stone walkway to the elegant city apartment. Her path was lit by small white orbs set into the stone. The orbs stored sunlight during the day, then released their stored light once night had fallen. Behind her she heard carriage move off, gravel scattered on the parkway until horses reached the stone streets. She sighed and glanced up at the building in front of her. The lights were still on inside. She'd probably have to go turn them off once she got inside. Her mother tended to sent the servants home when she had patrons. The apartment itself had been an extravagant gift from one of her mother's patrons, years before Selirae had been born. It was adequate for persons of lower castes of nobility but rather large for a family of their size.

Selirae fumbled with her keys at the door, finally selecting the right one and slipped it into the key slit. The door opened with a mechanical click. She stepped into the brightly lit entrance hall. The lack of a greeting confirmed her assumption that the servants had been dismissed. The apartment always felt slightly abandoned without the servants. She shut the door behind her, the heels of her shoes clacking against the tiled floor. She headed for the elegant curve of the stairs. Removing the silver dove pin from her cloak and untying the cinches, she freed herself from the velvet cloak. She placed the cloak on the varnished wood railing. One of the servants would have it laundered in the morning. Selirae climbed the stairs slowly, lifting her skirts slightly so she wouldn't trip.

The hallway on the second floor was less bright than the entry way with the only light fixtures next to the doors. The sound of her footfalls were muffled by the deep rug that ran from the stairs down the entire length of the hall. The complex pattern on the rug followed the current pattern of apparel and decoration. She found the complexity to be more irritating than fascinating. Plucking the hair pins from the curls piled upon her head, she freed her hair to fall into soft ringlets down her back. As she passed her mother's upper parlor she paused with a frown. Taking a step back to glance into the room, she became aware of her error. Her mother was still entertaining a client despite her promises to be done by this hour.

The pair were seated on a sofa of pastel pink and richly embroidered with briar rose pattern. The pink flattered her mother's looks but did absolutely nothing for the man. Though little could be done to make the man look worse in her opinion. His folds of fat were outlined by the tightness of his vest. The vest itself was a garish shade of purple and only emphasized his ruddy complexion. His silk shirt was subdued shade of ivory however the color was entirely inappropriate as evidenced by the darkening circles by his underarms. She even noted sweat beading up on his balding head. His eyes were an acceptable shade of hazel but lack the spark of intelligence and were glossed over with mingled lust and greed. She swallowed in disgust and forcefully turned her head away. Gibkoug. Selirae was about to ignore what she had seen and head up to her room when a voice called out.

“Wait.” She paused and unwillingly dragged her eyes back to the pair. Dhobar was smiling at her in manner that made her keenly uncomfortable. “Is this your daughter, Avelyth,” he queried, slurring his words slightly. Her eyes narrowed slightly. The drunken fool.

“Yes, that is Selirae. Selirae,” her mother prompted. Her mother's smile poisonously sweet and her eyes were sharp with anger.

“I'm sorry for disrupting you, Lord Gibkoug, Mother,” she said inclined her head apologetically.

“Come over here, let me get a look at you, girl,” he said and she moved forward resentfully, her back stiff with rejection. “Last time I saw you couldn't have been more than 8 years old. You've grown up well.”

“Thank you, however I do believe we were at the same party only three months ago. However, it most likely did notice me as I admit I was socializing with people in the same age group as I,” she said in voice as cloyingly toxic as the smile her mother had given her. The emphasis on her age was lost Gibkoug.

“It is a pity I didn't meet you then.”

“Yes, truly,” she replied incautiously sarcastic. The man was too stupid to pick up on it anyways. “If you will excuse me, I must attend to some business.” His eyes scoured over her once more before he nodded. She clench her hands into fists. The hairpins she held dug into her flesh. The sharp pain helped distract her from her rage and revulsion. She sketched a curtsy and left the room promptly.

“Excuse me a moment I wish to speak to my daughter,” her mother's voice said from behind her. Selirae continued forward until her mother caught her in the hallway, half way to her room. Avelyth's fingers bit into the soft flesh of her upper arm. Selirae paused to address her mother, not bothering to turn around.

“How can you even stand the presence of that grotesque, odoriferous, conceited, pestilence of a man.”

“He's head of his clan and he made a generous patron gift. And you should mind your manners around him.”

“Like the fat sop would notice sarcasm if it bit him. The man pollutes the very air he breaths. He treats his citizens like commodities and steals whatever gains they make. I would have thought you'd have better taste, but I guess you were always tasteless when it came down to your greed and with your looks fading you are willing to grab at any morsel no matter how detestable-” Her voice was a cut off by a sharp crack of flesh meeting flesh. Selirae glared back at her mother, holding her cheek. Her mother in one smooth motion had yanked Selirae around and slapped her with her free hand. She pried her mother's hand off her arm and marched to her room.

Selirae locked the door behind her and leaned against it, fuming. She couldn't stand it anymore. That man particularly, but in all honesty she was plain sick of watching her mother pander to those men. She closed her eyes then took action. She changed into a set of riding clothes and pack a change of clothing into the largest bag she had. Selirae tossed all her jewelry into the bag as well, she did not trust her mother not confiscate them while she was gone. Hauling the bag and all the currency she had, she headed out the door. The door to the upper parlor was closed, though she could hear her mother's and Gikoug's voice. She moved quickly to the stair and scurried out the door to the stable. There, she saddled her horse, grateful for the fact that she seen the procedure often enough to do it on her own. Getting the bag up on the horse as well took some effort, but somehow she managed it. With a touch of her boots to the sides of her horse, she was gone.

 

OOC: Like Kagiya said, it's my fault that I didn't provide an alias for Aelthir to use, so many of you probably didn't pick up on it, but Aelthir is an individual who *needs* to keep a low profile. Giving out his real name to strangers on the street isn't very feasible, and he will most likely have his bodyguards carrying out tasks for him if it's possible to keep him hidden.
For now, Aelthir's alias will be Laryth Varlas.
Please try to remember Aelthir's position for future reference. Thanks!

-------------------

There was only one place to be at this particular hour of the day in Valdeaunia, and being part of the human race--creatures of habit by nature--the nimble mouthed Korwyn slowly made his way to a local pub at the far side of Estavel, the same one he had visited at the same hour each day for the past few weeks. These visits were greatly dependent on whether or not he met his quota of daily monetary success, and today was also no exception for the professional swindler who leisurely tossed a single ghel piece up and down his hand as he progressed down the street.

Pick-pocketing wasn't anything exceptional; there were many who were much more talented than he was at it, but having succeeded to score quite a hefty amount by use of a skill that he considered himself weak with warranted much silent appraisal from the young thief on his own efforts.

With his destination finally coming into his sights, Korwyn quickly picked up his pace after spotting a few familiar individuals sitting idly at a corner of the pub. Only after recognizing their faces, an impish grin lit up the corners of Korwyn's lips as he headed over to greet them, possible shenanigans yet again in mind.

"Nealth! Hevalsa! Fancy meeting you here!" Korwyn greeted with a brimming smile, quickly pulling up a chair to sit with his two attendants.

The ones named Nealth and Hevalsa turned their attention toward their unexpected visitor. Despite the manner in which Korwyn presented himself to the pair of older men before him, his greeting was reciprocated with far less enthusiasm--rather, Korwyn's presence seemed troublesome.

"You really ought to learn when to use those fake imitations of yours," Nealth grumbled softly as he slumped in his chair, evidently hung-over. "Having to see such glaringly insincere performances are undeserving."

"Well that's not nice," Korwyn crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "How do you know I wasn't genuinely happy to see you?"

"Fat chance," Hevalsa chuckled to himself. "It's hard to feign innocence with a record like yours. Your ability to generously share misfortune is beyond comprehension."

"Hey, don't be like that," Korwyn started. "I bought you a nice wool tunic the other day, didn't I?"

"You mean the one you stole?" Hevalsa corrected. "I was apprehended by the district militia while I was shopping at Renalyn's and charged for property theft! I lost a great deal of money thanks to you and now I'm no longer allowed to step foot in her shop!"

Korwyn darted his eyes off to the side. "Wasn't I the one who bailed you out of prison?"

"After blackmailing the guard with infidelity!" Hevalsa barked. "I hope you do realize the point I'm trying to make here."

"Forget about it, Hev," Nealth waved his hand, yawning between words. "There's no hope for boys like Korwyn. Once they reach a certain point, the process is irreversible."

"Says the eternally-single-middle-class drunkard who hasn't managed to stay sober for more than a day at a time," Korwyn smirked. "I must really be at my end if I've gained pity from such a person."

"Hold your tongue, boy!" Nealth hissed. "Just you wait, I'll score a beauty that scum like you can only dream of having!"

Korwyn tilted his head, a look of perusal on his face. "Wait a minute... wasn't it your birthday a few days ago?"

"Yeah, what's your point?"

"It's your fifty-seventh one, right?" Korwyn lifted a finger with realization.

Nealth furrowed his brows angrily.

"Hahaha!" Hevalsa laughed. "Your words are potent with poison, young Korwyn."

"It's not funny!" Nealth scoffed icily before raising his fists at Korwyn. "Get out of here you *******!"

Korwyn let out an amused chuckle as he hopped nimbly to his feet, dodging a poorly executed punch from the older gentleman as he nearly fell off his chair from such terrible form. Korwyn then turned to leave.

"Feel better soon, Nealth," Korwyn said. "Try having a cold glass of water. You might find there are other drinks out there just as delicious."

"Keh, what do you know," Nealth muttered.

And by his leave, with a cheeky smile serving as his means of farewell, Korwyn set off back into the streets of Valdeaunia, raising his arm momentarily to wave at the two older men--both who had become slightly more agitated after having their encounter with the mischievous thief of Estavel.

 

I was lazy with this, but here it is. Not the best that will be seen, but it should hold to the requirements.

Name: Latimer Delfalyouri
Age: 19 years old
Gender: Male
Appearance: Latimer has been graced with long and delicate visage accentuated with rather dominant cheek bones. Though at times this may make him appear quite feminine, a simple stroke of his quite stylish goatee is an easy deterrence of such thoughts. Hardly one to ever engage in the intricate action of physical activity, Latimer appears to fail in the muscular physique department. His eyes are a modest chocolate brown and seem to always appear dazed or distracted than anything else. Latimer’s hair is as black as charcoal and is always matted in an effortless and carefree way that tends to appear the exact opposite. This is more or less due to the excessively large chef’s hat he likes to parade around when working or trying to make a point. When he’s not in an apron, Latimer prefers the relaxing drape of his favourite pair of baggy brown trousers which nicely foil his coveted dark green, form fitting shirt.

Magic ability: None

Job Class: Merchant chef/cook. Nothing but a grill, some utensils, and spices.

Noble/Citizen: Citizen

Alignment: Umami (Good Taste) and Good

Background/History: When Latimer was very young, as often as there was a moment to spare in the vast and busy kitchen, he would sit a top his grandfather’s lap and watch as the minor peeling and preparing were completed for the evening’s supper. With great patience Latimer’s grandfather would ease through the vegetables all the while regaling his grandson with the stories of when he was much too spry for simple kitchen prep. For over one hundred meals Latimer had heard the same story and never once grew tired of it. It was the vast history of how every first born child of the Delfalyouri family before him, including his dearest grandfather and father, not only assumed head chef of the great family restaurant ‘The Prominade’ but served and fed the noble Ferawyn family as Lord Cook.

Under the guidance of both father and grandfather, Latimer learned to appreciate the harmony in life and cuisine through the cooking philosophy of umami, or good taste. Taught that every flavour and aroma has its place in a dish, he has learned to turn some of the simplest of ingredients into a fanciful symphony of taste on the palette.

Of course it is certainly naïve to think that things will change exactly as one would hope they would. Latimer knew this of course, but in the wake of his grandfather’s death too many things changed for the worse. Now working full time as the second chef under his father, Latimer and his family found themselves catering to the stomachs of the Solanea, the ruling family of Verlest. Originally, the move really hadn’t bothered Latimer; he was second chef after all and it gave him plenty of opportunity to work with his father, whom he had idolized as much as his grandfather for his patience and skill. However, with the new rule of Ariya Solanea came a taste for food that was insipid and completely opposite of what the Delfalyouri family had spent generations to accomplish.

As if life was not sour enough for this young and aspiring cook, an awry meeting between Latimer’s father and Lady Ariya one afternoon resulted in his mysterious illness that same night. Apparently the lunch of that day was considered to be “too exoticâ€-- most of which was due to an attempt to change a stubborn mind on Latimer’s part—and was thus unforgivable. Latimer himself knew that his father’s “mysterious†had been due to poisoning, but as a chef there was hardly anything he could do to expose the act. Despite his best efforts he was unable to stave off the inevitable death of his father.

With the loss of his grandfather before hand, and having never known his mother due to complications of birth, Latimer finds himself the last of the Delfalyouri lineage with a profound disgust for the ruling family of Verlest. He has since abandoned ‘The Prominade’, and moves throughout the district as a cooking vendor sharing his philosophy and cooking styles with the more appreciative townspeople. Though he is in no position to exact his revenge, Latimer has gained a great deal of esteem and popularity with his food cart business and believes that his viral flavours and masterful cooking are a revenge in themselves in such a dull time.

Personality: While he remains a fairly decent and polite young man, Latimer can’t help but be a little crude and sarcastic at times. His jokes are usually fairly witty and more often then not come out as a reflex. He tends to be very metaphorical with food, often turning his philosophies on the subject into advice for all seasons.

Demo:

The district of Verlest is the sparkling jewel among the tri-district city of Valdeuania. The tall and extravagant white stone buildings and their many noble occupants make this part of the city some what of a topical paradise for those with a much more refined taste. With such high status, crime rate is almost non-existent; streets are considered to be 99.99% crime free and people can easily wander to bask in their safety. Such was the the case with Eldro VonVivavest. He was the the cousin of a rather notable banker, who was in turn the son of a very distinguished police constable-- suffice to say, if there was any need to make things disappear, say perhaps like an asphyxiated house maid, things would be taken care of and kept fairly quiet.

A rather portly and insatiable man (feel free to let your mind wander regarding the matter of the house maid), Eldro was one to never believe in karma, or for less of a religious take on the concept, the proverb of "what goes around comes around". Unfortunately his ignorance of such a notion would become his downfall during what he considered a peaceful and content stroll, as waiting in the next alley happened to be the 0.01% crime-rate that Verlest rarely experiences.

From the semi-darkened alleyway that stood a mere few feet away from the unsuspecting Eldro VonVivavest, a very down and out merchant hid in hopes to mug an unsuspecting (and hopefully portly-- the body type really isn't designed for speed) person of wealth and possibly something valuable enough to sell. The market and merchant business was usually a cut-throat world, and it was easy to lose. So with exactly nothing further to lose, the poor merchant resulted to becoming nothing more than an inept thief. And he quickly nabbed Eldro as he walked by.

If one is as stupid enough to strangle a house maid over something as trivial as not bending down to "pick up" a fallen coaster for their viewing pleasure it is safe to say that they are stupid enough to contest the threats of a vagrant thief, knife or no knife. And that is exactly what Eldro did...for the last time. To make matters much worse, Eldro's assailant wielded an axe and decided to strike him in mid-sentence of a speech regarding something along the lines of "stealing is not the answer". With that the poor merchant was no longer poor. Having looted Eldro's body, he had enough yhel to not only get his business back up and running, but also to give his sister a proper burial who had ironically been found in the east moat having died from asphyxiation.

At this point it should be noted that the sturdy and rather thick stone that make up the buildings of the district of Verlest are able to dampen most sounds that bounce or echo around them. That is, at a certain distance (approximately 650 feet) it is nigh impossible to hear a sound, say like a blood-curdling scream within an alleyway. This was probably why Latimer Delfalyouri could here nothing more than the click of crystal as he counted a large sum of yhel that a rather portly man had paid him for a generous helping of delicious barbecue beef skewers. Looking almost confused he stared up at the sky. Should've charged him more.

 

OOC: White_Rook: Approved. You may now participate as you wish.

 

NOTE: Real life continues to interfere in the most irritating of ways, so I apologize for the lateness of the post and the sarcity of them.

Wandering about the city, Jade made her way to the district of Mhaura, attempting to stay out of the way of the thousands of people who all seemed to have their own business that was extremely important to them and to no one else. Valdeaunia seemed to be the same as any city; it was irritating and filthy, as void of purpose as everywhere else.

She bumped shoulders with a man who seemed more suspicious than most; as she turned to apologize, he was already watching her with guarded eyes. "I apologize to you, my good sir."

"Hm. No matter," he sated, making to leave.

Jade shook her head and grabbed his shoulder. "Perhaps you should keep a better handle on your valuables, sir," she murmured, dropped a handful of coins back into his pocket.

He turned, surprised, suspicion heightening. "Thank you, Miss..."

"I consider it impolite to give a name without receiving one in return," she responded. "And it is you who is in debt to me for your belongs. If you like, I will take them back."

"That's not necessary. I'm a bodyguard to Laryth Varlas; that's all you need know."

"I see we have something in common; the reluctance to give out our names," she offered him a nod of the head. "My name is Jade Rhade. I don't suppose you know of a decent inn in the area?"

"There are many throughtout the city. You can't miss them." He took a step back. "If you'll excuse me, ma'am..."

"Certainly, sir. A pleasant day to you." Jade continued on her way for a little bit, then stopped and leaned against the wall, examining the dagger she had pilfered from his pocket. "Interesting design. Not from here, indeed." The quality was far too fine for a simple bodyguard; if she were to hazard a guess, this man was the Laryth Varlas himself. Interesting.

 

Marcus chuckled from atop the rooftops of the town as he just witnessed another of many pickpockets.

"People in this town, so busy with their own lives they fail to notice their surroundings, most deserved to be robbed, as unmorale as it may be it'll only teach them to pay more attention."

Marcus shoot some well aimed arrows at his self made targets he placed on certain roofs, hitting all dead centre, then proceeded to walk around the roofs more collecting his fired arrows along the way.

 

Jade slipped the dagger into her pocket and moved on. A few meters down the street she found a blacksmith's stand. She waited patiently while he finished with his customer, then stepped forward, perhaps closer than necessary.

"If you would permit a question without the exchange of coin," she inclined her head to apologize for taking him away from business, even for a moment. "I would ask if you can identify this." Pulling the dagger from her pocket, she held it in her hand for him to examine. "I've acquired it and wish to return it to its proper owner."

The smithy was quiet for a minute as he gazed at the dagger. "This crest... who'd you say you got it from?" He reached to take it from hand.

"I didn't, my good sir." She raised a slender eyebrow and wrapped her fingers carefully around the weapon. "As I said, I wish an answer that does not require the exchange of coin."

The smith shook his head at her strange behavior. "That's the Ferawyn crest, sure enough. I won't bother you with your business, woman, but you'd best be careful carrying an item like that. You'll become a target for thieves of a wealthier kind, like those who rule this city."

"Pardon?" Her eyes narrowed, but the smithy turned away and busied himself with another customer; clearly, it was her sign to leave. "Interesting, indeed..."

 

She turned around. One, then two and then the third time. She couldn't even see the Rus manision anymore. Kyoudai sighed. It wasn't the most pleasurable thing she could think of. Leaving the whole Rus manision in her little brothers hands. She gave Andrea a hopeful look, knowing she felt the same way.

The adventure had begun and right now they were on their way to the center of Verlest.

They walked all the way so they wouldn't cause much attention.

Once they came to Verlest things got different. Kyoudai felt odd showing herself in training clothes. People looked down on the two sisters. "That's it!" Kyoudai exlaimed to her sister. "We're being looked down in just because we're not wearing our casual clothes >>. We should buy some capes (so people can't see what we're wearing) and get what we need and then leave Verlest fast. Then we can go and explore the other towns. Others places we've never since we have never put a foot outside Verlest.

Kyoudai walked towards a little store called 'The noble knight'. "If it's anywhere we can get a some good travelling capes it's got to be here". She pulled Andrea with her and walked inside. The lady behind the counter bearly moved an eye over to see who had come in because of what the Rus sisters were wearing. " I guess we just have to help ourselves then" Kyoudai grunted. Then she walked into the store and came to the part of the store where the capes hung. She ended up picking a sand brown cape with a high neck and a red stripe at the bottom.

 

Prolouge

We know that we are looking at something because its polished surface shimmers with light. Pulling back, other squares are revealed; the black and white tiles of a chess board. The board rises and spins, slipping beneath us we find ourselves moving across the board, moving through a chess game.

The pieces are everywhere, checking and covering other pieces. It has reached that critical moment when pieces are traded and the board begins to clear as two strategies unravel towards a final outcome.

Standing above the pieces around him, we see the black king.

We move closer to his face, closer to his chiseled ebony features, closer until we are staring into his cold black eyes...

Intro

Roka walked into a tavern to see a bartender at the other end of the counter. He then greeted Roka. His clients were vile, cruel people, caring only for themselves and their wealth. He’s killed children in front of mothers, and wives in front of husbands. His soul has become black, stained with the blood of innocent people so that others could steal their wealth. The greedy smile that appeared on his clients face as he brought them an item proving the victims death, repulsed and disgusted him. He longed to kill them and defile their corpse, but it would ruin his reputation and he lived for death, and being paid for it was just an added bonus.
“I need you to take of a little nuisance for me.†His client was a fat man. His teeth had wide gaps between them and there was gunk all over them. Every aspect of him repulsed people. “This family is very wealthy, and if they die quickly, and silently it will be easy for someone to sneak in and loot the house before anyone realizes they’re gone.â€
“You’re a sickening man.â€
“Just take the gold and do your job you sneak.â€

The house was beautiful. Large, granite bricks, strong, sturdy roof, and a garden so beautiful you had to turn around to realize it wasn’t just a dream. He snuck in through the window, using the moonlight as his guide. He was so used to being in the dark he was able to see very clearly and took some time to admire the house. It was full of silver, silver cups, silver plates, silver tables, and sliver relics.
After he had seen enough he looked for the bedroom. He found them in a deep sleep. They were close together, hugging in for warmth in the cold winter night. Carefully, slowly, silently, he took his knives from their sheaths. He crept slowly to the bed. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Each step his heart pounded harder, anxious for the kill. He could feel that familiar rush, the rush of enjoyment he felt before every kill. His hands shook in anticipation as he held them over the two victims. And then………
STAB!
His knives went straight through their hearts. They didn’t even get to open their eyes. He checked each carefully to make sure they were dead. It was point-less, no one had ever survived one stabbing from his knives.
He started searching the bodies for something he could show his client as proof of the deed....

 

Andrea quickly followed in suit. Keeping her head down, she swiftly walked over to the capes. Taking a blood red cape with a hood that could conceal her unusually pale face. On her waist was a white stripe. Looking down at her black and white training clothes, she sighed. I hope he is going to be okay... She looked over at her sister and gave her that look. "How are we going to pay for these." She whispered. "More so with out us looking suspicious." Her eyes flashed over to the person at the counter.

 

OOC: I edited my post and used The alias.

Jacen had got out of bed early that morning and gathered the strong potions he made last night. He was now on his way to the spot where he met Laryth. He could already see him waiting there, so he increased his walk into a jog. When he reached the younger man he handed him the potions.

"Thank you" said Laryth."How much do I owe you?"

"Ten yhel" said Jacen.

"I'll give you twenty for your hard work" said Laryth as he pulled out twenty yhel and gave it to Jacen.

"Thank you" said Jacen.

"Have a nice day" said Laryth as he turned and walked away.

Once he was gone, Jacen turned and went home to get some more sleep.

 

Kyoudai smirked. "Hey Andrea watch this" she whispered. She poured a little liquid on the capes, not much "OH NO I SEEM TO HAVE MADE A STAIN ON THESE CAPES, I'M SO SORRY OH NO THIS IS A DISASTER!" the lady behind the counter stormed over to them. "WHAT IN GODS NAME ARE YOU DOING! you better pay for these they are extremely expensive you cheap trash!". The lady shouted in anger. "I'm sorry but we don't have that much money" Kyoudai laughed while the lady was kicking them out with the capes.

"See Andrea that was easy" Kyoudai laughed and looked at her sister who looked amused.

 

OOC: There was some suff Soush wanted you to fix in your bio, and on the first page it still says "Pending" next to your name.

Thats what he wants you to fix.

 

Rami sat at the clan hall listening to the murmurs of the others around him, he sipped slowly at his ale. He normally went unnoticed while around the hall, not many bothered to deal with him. He hummed silently to himself as he listened to men boast of their previous works in the art of assassination.

"Rami" said a tall slender man walking towards the table at which Rami sat to himself. The man walked at a brisk pace dodging people and sliding through the fair amount of people sitting in the hall. "I have been looking for you for quite a time, it seems you don't come around as often as you had before"

"I've had my share of things to take care of" Rami exclaimed expressionlessly not breaking his stare with the cup of aie he was drinking. "How can I help you Veris"

The man took out a piece of paper from his robes and took a seat across from Rami. "I have a job for you, as you were requested personally" said Veris. "It seems as though a man out in Estavel has found his wife cheating on him, and he is not to happy about as most would assume. He wants the man killed"

"And the payment?" Rami said coldly still staring at the almost empty drink.

"8 ghels" said Veris.

Rami took the piece of paper from Veris and stared at it for a short time, a silence in the air between them was uncomfortable, as were most silences that involved Rami. Rami stood and stared down at Veris who looked up with a questioning look, "I'll accept" as he turned and walked out the door into the Mhuaras busy streets booming with people hawking things on the sides of the streets. Rami threw up his hood and disappeared into the crowd once again making his way up to the Estavel district.

 

Andrea stared at her sister for a couple of seconds. She burst out laughing from the incident. "Did... you see... the look... on that ladies face!?!?!?!" Andrea giggled in-between her breaths. She grabbed her sisters hand and ran down the path. "We should get out of here before she realized what happened!" Pulling her hood over her head she motioned her sister to follow.

After running for about a half a mile, she stopped to catch her breath. Heaving in and out, she looked over at Kyoudai. Smiling slightly, she asked "So where do go now?" Forgetting that she was out of breath, she twirled around in circles. She hit one of the walls and fell onto her bottom. She looked up at Kyoudai surprised and let out a little giggle.

OOC: GX, I fixed that this morning ._.

 

" Oy Andrea get up! Jeez, come on don't tell me you havn't trained more than that. We have no time to be tired!" Kyoudai smiled and dragged her sister up from the dirty ground.

"I suppose we go to Mahura now, it's the district that is closest to us. But we need to be careful, I do hope you know some combat skills. It's a dangerous place." Kyoudai smiled she knew Andrea would handle it.

" Did we bring a map ?"

 

Andrea patted some of the pockets of her pants. Looking in the bottom right pocket, she whisked out a map. Smiling, she handed it to her sister. Slinging her arrows over her shoulder, she nodded at her sister. She examined her bow in her right hand and looked out at the busy street.

"So we are going to Mahura now?" She gave her sister a questioning look. "Why would we go there?"

 

OOC: Alright then, just forget I said anything.

 

Kyoudai studied the map carefully. She didn't want to get in any unfortunate situations. "Well if we keep going straight into that street, we'll hit the main street of Mahura. Which means it'll be dangerous, yet fun".

Kyoudai cleanched her fists. She was prepared for some fighting. She'd let Andrea do the bow work and she'd rather try and use her martial arts skills.

Kyoudai ran into the street, she stood in the middle of the street screaming to Andrea :" Hey, we went out with only knowing we wanted an adventure that's why we ended up here!"

 

Name: Rusenbell (Zaach) Condon
Age: 19
Appearance: Zaach is off petit stature, he is skinny and has a very delicate looking face, that is often covered in dirt. His hair is long and a dark blue, about shoulder length to be exact. He also has a dark brown mussle and a distinctive gotee. When it comes to clothes he usually wears rags, anything that he can find. Although he owns a long black suite that he had stolen. Underneath Zaach’s clothing he has a number of weapons: strapped around his arms he has two small daggers, a short katana that is strapped around his back, a dagger that he keeps strapped around his ankle and he also keeps a small crossbow tied onto his belt
Magick Ability: Level 2
Job Class: Theif/Traveler
Noble/Citizen: Citizen
District: Mhaura
Alignment: Good, but because of money problem he has to steal.

Background/History/Personality: Zaach was born in Mhaura and he has stayed there ever since, he has never met or heard of his parents, which could atone for his sceptical and pessimistic personality. An Old Lady, called Iris, found the boy on the streets, where she took him in as her own, she taught him basic anatomy and how to create basic remedies.

He never went to school and had no education up until the Iris, even though he had had no education, Zaach was still a very smart boy, he had somewhat of a sixth sense, he could read body language and he was able to tell what feelings people were thinking. Zaach never got over the death of Iris; he had beaten himself up more than he felt needed to, which resulted in many scars on his body. He had many cuts up and down his arm and a scar above his left eye that had been attained in a fight, which he started.

He wasn't a self-righteous person, he knew that stealing was wrong, but he wanted to buy his mother a Grave, he felt he needed to. So then Zaach, aged 15, became a traveller, sold the house he was brought up in and travelled the country, but not before finding a suitable place to store the body.. He then found himself in Estavel were he got himself a job as a waiter, after a few years of being homeless, he would sneak into houses in the middle off the night and steal clothes as well as use their toilets and water, before he would go to work. After a few months working he was fired for stealing from the pockets of those he waitered for. Zaach had earnt enough money to buy himself a small house, and was almost half way to buying a plot and grave for Iris. Zaach had then one day stumbled on a book that he then used to teach himself magick that he used to help himself pick pocket, he also left and altered the atmosphere around his mothers remains so that it did not decay or rot.

When it came to stealing, he was only ever caught twice, he didn't believe he was a good pickpocket, he just knew that people weren't as aware as they should be.

When Zaach had enough money to buy a grave, he left for Mhaura but when he got to the place he had hidden his mothers body, it was gone, everything, the body and all the valuables left with it. Zaach vowed that he would better himself and find the thief, which he has been doing till this day.

Demo Post: Zaach looked up at the ceiling, as his eyes adjusted to the light. He was getting used to the nightmares, they weren’t getting any better, just more tolerable. It was often the same one, he would be standing their alone and Iris would be screaming and ranting at him, she would blame him for loosing the body. She would say things he knew that she would never say, but they broke his heart every time. The dream would always end at the same part, well he could only remember up until one part.

After he got over the trauma off the nightmares, he began to study the dreams and had given birth to a strange interest in dreams, he had many books on consciousness and sleep, but he hadn’t found any that actually quenched his thirst for knowledge. Zaach used to sleep for about 16 hours a day, to try and experiment with dreams, when he had a very lucid dream he would attempt at flying, as well as many other impossible things. At One point Zaach had destroyed the line between reality and dream, and therefore on a couple of occasions injured himself severely, from trying to fly and walk on water. Zaach established his ability to tell the difference when he had to nurse himself back to health, after the accidents.

Zaach yawned and then sat up, he looked around as if he was looking something, but he wasn’t he just wanted to make sure everything was as he left it. He then got up and put on his clothes, as he put on his raggedy jacket, he heard a rip and it fell from his shoulders, he let out a sigh “Damn it, supposedly to last another bloody month” he put on his white shirt, that was part of his “good clothing” draw, he swung the jacket onto his shoulder and left to the market.