Tales of Faerun

[FreemasonGamer]

"Damnit..." Rameses sighed, aggravated by the sight of We'tak shamefully departing from the Gleeful Sage after sorrowfully apologizing for his erroneous assumptions concerning the Doomguide and the griffon rider. Before he could open his mouth to say much else, the genasi's eyes narrowed as Rhaine fled from the tavern, followed by some of their fellow companions. "So much for breaking the perpetual stiffness of a board," He voiced his displeasure, raising his glass approvingly when Leif offered to go find We'tak. Then, Rameses's crimson gaze rolled over to Conall, who seemed equally troubled by the intensely awkward conclusion to the scene.

 

While the fire genasi guessed there was some truth in the paladin's words concerning the thri-kreen's lesson, he still regarded the insectoid much like a child, and Rameses refrained from following his gut impulse to jab at the Selûnite with no small degree of snark in the child's defense. Before he could consider the wisdom of such a possible course of action, the well-dressed fighter focused his attention upon Kaji whose joking remark caused his szuldar to flare. "Not the first time I've received an envious remark of the sort." Rameses remarked teasingly to the wu jen in return before continuing, "Perhaps you could have earned more gold for such an outfit partaking in those pit fights rather than gambling on them."

 

Nodding firmly in agreement with his fiery companion, he quickly drained the wineglass of its contents before standing tall, ready to confront the whole of Furthinghome's elitist classes. "I don't need good fortune or triumph to justify reveling in the party to come, though I'll be sure to raise a glass if you conjure an instance of either." Despite its questionable connotations, Rameses meant his remark wholeheartedly; with all that had recently transpired the past few days— Rameses regarded most of it as less than savory— he didn't need a reason to dress as gaudily as he had, fearlessly socialise with others who undoubtedly considered themselves better than him, and enjoy in the finest alcohol this side of Faerûn until he blacked out.

 

"Now, I guess we go follow her most respectfully silent Lady Doomguide. Even with wings, I doubt it'd be difficult to lose her in this town," Rameses advised his companions before meandering towards the exit himself.

Edited June 7, 2016 by FreemasonGamer

[Macman253]

Sparrow watched the debacle unfold silently, he had a shocked look written across his face like none he had seen in his life before. When the winged woman lashed out at the two responsible the half-elf sighed and planted his face in the palm of his hand. When she departed he looked at the pair and the glowing man and shook his head in disappointment, he was all for fun and games but some things go a bit too far.

 

He departed after Rhaine, running hard to catch up with the surprisingly long legged woman and her compatriots.

 

"M'lady!" He said as he ran, when he caught up to them he went around in front of her and breathed hard. "Excuse me my Lady, But as to that possible job..." He said to her, "It would do this wandering acrobat a good change." He patted his side, "I happened to have my purse removed by a rather large human after he tossed me into a merchants stand for beating him at a fair competition, I am without coin and once that human knows I continue to live, likely without a life."

Edited June 7, 2016 by Macman253

[GrueMaster]

"Me? Envious? Hah!" Kaji laughed at the genasi's jab. "I have my own wondrous style, thank you! As for the fighting pits, alas, whilst I would enjoy the fighting as much as the gambling, it would not prove too much of a challenge, or perhaps too dangerous of one; Either my foes would probably have to resort to lethal means to take me down, or they'd throw me out for cheating."

 

Nodding at Rameses, the wu jen stood away from the bar. "Yes, the lady is quite dour, isn't she? Well, Ramesesama, Hi-chan," He took a brief moment to check that he was presentable before turning to follow. "Let us go and enjoy this night!"

 

 

We'tak walked idly along the streets as he drowned in depression. Suddenly, he heard a familiar voice addressing him. "'Purty bug?'" The thri-kreen looked at Leif strangely before responding a bit more sharply than intended. "I do not know what you mean by 'purty,' but I am not a bug!" Cheeing deeply, he looked at the softskin with sadness and frustration. "Sorry, Leif... Thiss one is simply tired of no one answering questions and being scolded when they are asked. I mean, how am I supposed to learn and become stronger and better... if I can't learn because of our differences?"

 

*Chee?* "You changed clothes..." We'tak remarked, just now noticing the change in his clutchmate's appearance. "How did you do that so quickly?! It took me most of Mighty Sun's time just to get this on!" He looked distastefully at the bulky blue outfit he was burdened with. "Oh, the celebration! Were you not going to go?" He asked, before realizing his friend had actually come to check on him rather than leave for the gala. "You came to help me, didn't you? Well... thank you, Leif."

 

Without waiting for a response, he gave the softskin a great hug, appreciating his friend's kindness. "You are a good clutchmate." Straightening his dress and posture, the thri-kreen gave a click of satisfaction. "We should probably rejoin our clutch, yes?"

[AurianaValoria1]

Rhaine stopped in her tracks as the stranger addressed her again; she had forgotten about him in her frustration and eagerness to get this event over with. As Conall and Maydiira caught up to her and halted to either side of her, the Doomguide crossed her arms and raised a brow at the half-elf, "You wish to join us to earn back your lost coin? I must tell you now that the work we do is quite dangerous, and joining our number could very well result in your death - that is not an exaggeration. What other skills can you offer, and are you willing to risk such harm to your person for a cause you know nothing of?"

 

At her side, Conall couldn't help but keep glancing to the darkening streets. Though still healthily populated, with many guards well within earshot, the werewolf paladin still felt somewhat uncomfortable...and for what reason, he was unsure.

[Macman253]

Sparrow took in a breath and felt refreshed, "Risking my life for coin is not uncommon to me, danger does not ward me. Besides my skill with a knife, I am an adept acrobat, picklock and procurer of previously owned items." He said as he stood with his arms crossed, "My cause is to gold, and be rest assured that I am loyal to that cause. I have no need to know the causes or why-fors of others to be loyal to treasure and coin." Said the Half-Elf with a smile. He gestured to her two companions. "I may not be as honorable as a Knight or as determined as a Drow, but my skillset could be of great use and I have little else to offer of any real value."

 

He extended his hand to her with a lopsided grin on his face, "I am Sparrow."

[Lisnpuppy]

In frustration, Sin rose from her place fast as a spear and pounded again on the walls. She knew they were still outside of the city. There had been no movement of the caravan at all. Screaming she pounded and kicked, anything to be heard. She had tried the two times the unknown Drow had entered to bring her food and sneer at her in arrogance. Tried two times to somehow overpower him to escape out the door. Tried to trip him or hit him with the now offensive bolt of fabric. Both times she failed, one failure coming with a powerful backhand slap of a ring-bared hand that threw Sin back against the wall. She was left bloodied and bruised for her efforts and had her food poured down on the floor. The rats had come then. Crawling from parts unknown to partake in the floor feast. SIn was happy that they retreated after their lucky dinner.

 

Sin knew that her efforts of being heard were probably futile. That her Drow captor would no doubt soon be in to laugh at her, smirking at the energy wasted and then give her a slap or two just to drive the point home. Sin did not know when she would be moved but had no doubt she would be taken back down to one of the Drow cities. She had heard stories of such captives being taken and used for slaves or worse. Living in the sun was just about the worse offense a Drow could do.

 

Still Sin beat the walls, screamed and screamed, trying to make noise between the rhythmic noise of hammers and looms...trying through sheer willpower alone for someone, anyone to hear. Finally running out of energy, the young Drow slid down the wall back to the floor. Hot tears proceeded her, falling off her dark skin catching the dim light, like falling stars. Sin pulled her knees up to her chest and laid her cheek upon them. She quietly rocked back and forth wondering if there was anyone to know she was gone, or to care. Sin continued to weep, wishing she could find some peace in sleep and knowing none was to come.

[josh900]

"Oh I was wearing this under the dress." Leif said to We'tak in a casual manner before bending down so that he was eye level with the thri'kreen. "And look, don't worry about what Conall said alright? There's nothing wrong in not knowing something, just so long as you don't keep making the same mistakes over and over again. So don't worry about what Conall was saying. You learn as best you can, however you can, and don't worry if it's not fast enough for someone else alright? Anyone starts fussing at you for it, you let me know and I'll have a talk with them and get things sorted out." He said, giving We'tak's head a playful tousle as he straightened back up.

 

 

Lucas kept a short distance away from the group, once again finding himself in the familiar position of being hopelessly tongue-tied due to a female companion.

Noticing this, Azuris hung back between the group and the squire in an attempt to keep the poor boy's nervousness from being too obvious. From this distance he was able to listen and chime into Rhaine's conversation with the half elf that had approached earlier. "Well we wouldn't mind finding a bit of your cause ourselves, might not look it but we haven't exactly been earning a livable wage lately."

[AurianaValoria1]

Rhaine thought a moment, considered the stranger's words, then sighed and replied, whilst taking his proffered hand, "Very well, Sparrow. You may accompany us for the time being to see what fortune brings you. And what we're about. You may not like what you see, but I feel I cannot deny you the opportunity to witness what we do."

 

Maydiira raised a brow, "Showing is better than telling...isn't that the surfacer phrase that applies here?"

 

"I would say," Conall nodded beside her.

 

"Coin is becoming scarce, I must say," Rhaine added, agreeing with Azuris's observation, "We've managed to eke by on luck and the graciousness of our hosts thus far...but there is only so long that will last." Sighing, she gestured to the path ahead, "But, in the meantime, we have an event to attend. Shall we?"

 

It wasn't long before they reached the grounds of the estate where the gala was being held; the beautiful courtyard - decorated with statues, lanterns, and topiaries - was packed with attendees, and they actually had to join a long, long line of people waiting to get inside. It seemed that guards were checking the attendees at the door before letting them enter...

[FreemasonGamer]

“If you’re tight on gold, then might I recommend pit fighting?” Rameses added to the discussion among his companions, advising their newest member specifically; Sparrow was the half-elf’s name if the genasi overheard it correctly, “It isn’t so much about beating the other guy to a pulp as it is putting on a good show, knowing what bets and odds are stacked against you.”

Considering his recent advances within the business of brawling for profit, he thought he had quite the insight on how to succeed in such bloody endeavors. Rameses believed wholeheartedly that his expertise had earned him his ill-gotten gains, allowed him to indulge in the finer aspects of the gala. Surely his success in those fighting rings couldn’t have possibly been a fluke. At least, the genasi told himself that to ward off his uncertainties and vindicate his ego.

“I’m sure a nimble fellow like yourself would do well. Not many people expect the little combatant to win.” The genasi also remarked to Sparrow as the group made their way to the location of the gala.

It was very true. Rameses vividly remembered how he had underestimated smaller opponents just as larger ones had underestimated him. Such assumptions based on size alone allowed the genasi to subdue one burly half-orc in a particularly entertaining match, but those very misconceptions also resulted in Rameses losing once to a dwarf barely half his size. Such was the beautiful, unpredictable chaos of the fighting rings.

In fact, the hungry fire genasi planned on returning to them hopefully to earn himself some more riches, assuming the Doomguide’s company stayed in Furthinghome long enough to allow it. Although, he wondered if it would be wise to mention those plans to the others. He recalled some like Eirene who greatly disproved of the lucrative pastime, but he never quite understood why the idea disgusted those like her. Some fighting rings, the ones Rameses preferred over the rest, encouraged a good sense of sportsmanship among the fighters; everyone was there to hone their martial talents, possibly earning fame and fortune along the way.

Although, more than a few of those establishments were unsavory in equal measure, permitting anything to take place in the pit. Rameses didn’t like those shadier places and the clients they attracted, but his dislike didn’t stop him from participating. Gambles concerning bad men and unsportsmanlike, ‘dishonorable’ brawls lined the genasi’s pockets with gold just the same.

The fondness decorating his expression faded as the group neared the estate where the festivities would reach their peak. Recalling his habit of brawling reminded Rameses of Eirene, the odd little Mulhorandi with whom he never got along well. How badly he had begun to miss the ranger startled Rameses somewhat, and he even felt guilty for how quickly he had discarded her disappearance.

What if she had never intended on leaving her group? What if her arm had been twisted by the likes of Harlock? What if-

Stop.

 

Rameses couldn’t plague himself with this kind of fretfulness. There was nothing more they could do about Eirene now, as far as the genasi knew. She was just another companion who came and went, just like everyone else did at some point.

 

Sighing at the realization that sadly didn’t comfort him, Rameses crossed his arms as the group soon found themselves entering the courtyard of the regal estate. Trimmed hedges, marble statues, fountains with crystalline waters trickling soft melodies. As marvelous as the courtyard was, his sense of wonder was quickly dampened by the sight of the long line ahead of them. Rameses frowned while their group quickly wove their way into the painfully slow-moving train of attendees, meanwhile fiddling with the weighty flamegem on his ring finger. The fire lurking within those polished amber facets soothed his distress, enough so his smoldering szuldar didn’t flare too aggressively from aggravation.

 

Even those soothing flames trapped within their garnet prison didn’t occupy Rameses for long.

 

“Lady Doomguide, are there lines like this in the afterlife where the unfortunate hope to encounter your patron? If so, I pray for their sake that those lines move faster than this.”

 

Rameses couldn’t help himself when the idea came to mind after spending several minutes to observe that the rate at which guests were allowed through the front doors was unbearably slow. Hopefully his hushed comment wouldn’t upset the mightiest of Kelemvor’s servants. Regardless, Rameses was proud of the cunning he had incorporated into the carefully-worded complaint, a gentle smirk crawling across his face, his szuldar sparking with amusement.

 

~

“Lovely, isn’t it?”

 

“What?”

 

“This. If only there were parties like this back home. I would have taken you to them.”

 

“And you would have had to force me to go then, too.”

 

Harlock ceased his taunting soon after Rylee’s bitter, truthful remark cut into him worse than a sharpened blade. He did an uncanny job at concealing his contempt behind a poised, pearly smile, but she saw through his facade and smirked at the frustration underneath. The man indulged in pressing her buttons, so she often did the same in retaliation. Rylee was capable of few things that displeased the madman walking arm-in-arm with her as much as bursting his bubble.

 

Had they been anywhere else in Furthinghome, Harlock would have violently taken out his aggravation on someone or something. He couldn’t do that here, and they both knew it. The irritation seething in his unforgiving blue eyes only intensified because of that fact, and the sight amused Rylee enough to grin and even laugh softly. Of the few enjoyable aspects of Rylee’s otherwise miserable existence, twisting Harlock’s arm was one of them.

 

The pair mingled through the growing crowds within the estate’s majestic keep, awaiting for the gala to begin once the stream of new arrivals came to an end. There were all kinds of outfits filling the glamorous foyer, so their matching attire didn’t stand out. Harlock’s outfit was much like the other mens’ formal wear except for its black and blue scheme. At his behest, Rylee was scantly-clad in a salacious black dress splashed with streaks of blue and even studded with sapphires. She was Harlock’s eye candy; she had to dress accordingly for such an occasion.

 

Her amusement peaked when Harlock uncharacteristically favored silence instead of counterng. The sincerity of her biting remark seemed to hit a nerve, and she was glad that it did. Nothing else really brought her joy compared to how much paining him did.

 

“Did I hurt your feelings, Harlock?” Rylee tantalized the volatile maniac at her side, eager for another satisfying reaction.

 

“Not at all. I’m just waiting for Galeran to appear through those doors.”

 

Now it was Harlock’s turn. His cool words were like quicksilver, poisoning Rylee’s brief moment of splendor, compelling the spiteful woman into silence.

 

“He’ll surely be miserable like you. Probably not as miserable as you are, but miserable nonetheless. You and I will laugh, dance, and drink until the world spins around us, all while I make sure you get a good view of him the whole time. He might even catch a glimpse of us together. Imagine how fun that would be.”

 

“Burn in any of the Hells, I don’t care,” Rylee hissed barely above a whisper, her twisted expression easily betraying her lie.

 

She wasn’t nearly as good as Harlock at concealing herself, and they both knew it.

 

“Did I hurt your feelings, Rylee?” He mocked her with a sweet tone and an unnerving smile, pulling her a little closer, “I’m sorry, truly. We still have the whole night ahead of us, though.”

 

~

The crickets and cicadas played a wonderful symphony with the rustling grass and whispering breeze, their music dancing through the meadow. Nature’s lullabies soothed Eirene, and she could almost forget the dread weighing heavily on her shoulders. With nothing else to do, she sat down upon the warm earth, resting her back against the trunk of an ancient oak tree.

 

Serenity was the only word that came to the Mulhorandi’s mind when she contemplated describing her surroundings. This meadow was protected by the surrounding hills and groves of trees, offering her refuge from the critical gaze of the world. There was even a small pond near the center of the meadow with all manner of reeds and shrubbery growing along its muddy banks.

 

Eirene wasn’t at all surprised by the well-trodden game trails weaving through the grassy meadow. All sorts of creatures surely frequented this place to graze and drink. She could catch subtle whiffs of their scents when the breeze changed direction, for her sense of smell was sensitive for the same reason she had been lightheaded for most of the day. The full moon was coming.

 

It was going to be a terrible night, like always. The ranger didn’t even know if she would remember any of it, nor did she care. Of all that was wrong with the curse she endured, one of its most taxing aspects was how exhausting it was. Eirene didn’t think she would ever get used to something so traumatic, even with Selûne’s guidance. She would dread the full moon for days before it arrived, and she would feel sickened in the days following until the cycle started all over again.

 

For a brief time, however, she felt a little better when accompanied by her friends. She missed them something fierce despite how little she actually knew them. Quiet Rhaine, wise Conall, innocent We’tak, odd Leif, even bullheaded Rameses. They had all made Eirene’s life something more than waxing and waning despondency induced by the lunar cycle.

 

She truly hoped she could find them again after tonight, assuming she didn’t wake up the next day in some neighboring country.

 

Closing her eyes, Eirene sighed quietly before lazily opening them again to glance at the setting sun. It would be an hour or two before dark. Maybe she could sleep the rest of the evening away until then. The prospect appealed to her, but the ranger’s thoughts continued to circulate after her eyes closed again.

 

She wondered how Conall managed his curse. Imagining the werewolf partaking in the gala under the light of the moon jabbed a splinter of jealousy into her heart, but she tried her best to ignore it. As alike as the two lycanthropes were, their contrasting circumstances easily made the difference.

 

In the darker recesses of the Mulhorandi’s mind, she considered simply giving up. Eirene was tired of fighting her curse, and she always wondered what could happen if she succumbed to the thing that lurked inside of her. Surely her sanity would vanish if she slid the rest of the way down this muddy slope, but her curiosity was always present, especially on evenings like this. Nevertheless, she’d do nothing more than humor the idea, just like she had for the entirety of her existence as something trying to be someone.

[Macman253]

Sparrow smiled lightly at the Genasi's words. He was no bare knuckle brawler, he preferred a more larcenous career. The Half-Elf sighed and looked up at the estate, the walled villa was indeed fabulous but ultimately this was child's play for a thief. "People of wealth often underestimate greed." He thought as he ducked out of the line where his companions waited to enter the gala event. He drew up his face mask and his hood as he slipped around to the southern side of the wall.

 

His objective was the paybox for the guards, the very guards that oppress the denizens of Furthinghallow. He sought no other coin then the very coin that went to pay the brutes that were supposed to uphold the law but to Sparrow's mind did nothing but break it with impunity. Tonight they would be on their very best behavior due to the nobility being present but tomorrow they would resume their lawlessness.

 

These were the thoughts that fueled the flame in his heart as he deftly scaled the wall, first he leaped up and gripped a crack that had yet to be patched on the stone wall. Sparrow fitted his thin fingers into it and planted his feet against the stone firmly, when he was sure of his grip he began to climb. Gripping the edges and walking up the wall like a two-legged spider. It took him a few minutes due to the fact that he had to go slow so as to raise little noise but when he got to the top of the wall he peaked his eyes over. The Gala itself produced an intense amount of light which thankfully cast a shadow over much of the courtyard. Guards patrolled it sparsely thankfully this is due to most of them were currently at the gate taking invitations. Sparrow saw his opportunity and climbed over the wall, dropping to the grass below with a soft *THUD* he kept low and made his way in a arched pattern through the courtyard, stopping in cover where he can to take a quick look around before moving on.

 

He heard the whistling of a lone Guard as he walked along the courtyard. A lamp in his hand and a cudgel in the other. Sparrow dropped down beside a small hedge, the guard walked the gravel path that ran around the courtyard gardens. When Sparrow knelt the guard looked towards his direction.

 

"Who goes there?" Asked the human guard to the darkness. Sparrow silently cursed to himself, after a few moments the guard turned to resume his route. "Must be imaginations." He said to himself. Now that Sparrow was closer he saw the human well, he was an older man, likely too old for other work then this. Sparrow sighed, he wished no harm on an old man but he felt he must continue. When the elderly guard had passed Sparrow stood, he bent low and ran across the gravel path, careful not to dig in his toes to run across them silently. He glanced over his shoulder to see the guard resting on a bench far away, now sure he would not likely encounter another passing guard he crept on, making his way to the wall of the main house and where he could start his search.