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Re: Devils in the Sky [Z0rr0w]
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| 31 Mar 2016 10:16 PM |
There has never existed a world so ghastly and gritty as Daoven, one sprawling desert with only small reservoirs and sparse tree groves and vegetation to conserve the small life Daoven harbors on the surface. Neither man nor elf nor dwarf has ever prevailed over the forces of nature, and thus has never civilized the untamed world- not the Whistling Crags of the north, nor the eastern High Dunes, and neither the misty Grey Dells of the west. Doaven is unforgiving to those that come into this world ill-prepared and unwilling to adapt. For centuries, intelligent life has tried in vain to tame the Deserts of Doaven. Each time, they have fallen to either illness, starvation, drought, or the savage beasts of prey that scour the sands in search of their next meal, which is few and far between among the Deserts of Doaven.
One may wonder, if intelligent life exists in Doaven, where then does it come from?
There exists above the Deserts six soaring islands, upon which are plentifully bestrewn peaks and rivers, forests and valleys, lakes and grasslands. The islands were carved from the earth in ancient days before the world was turned to sand and sandstone in a war of magic and divinity that erased almost all traces of life in Doaven. The islands were fused with magical properties to sustain the test of time and remain eternally among the clouds, yet in response to the reckless war that brought ruin to Doaven, magic became a strict discipline, used purposely and harmlessly to cater to the needs of the three races that dwelt in Doaven- the men, the elves, and the dwarves. Over time, magic became fused with technology until at last it was no longer thought of as an extension of one's body, or even an art for that matter, but a tool to advance life and technology together on the Isles of Wingsten, named for a wizard of ancient days who discovered that magical properties could be fused with natural properties to form "magitech", one of man's greatest innovations.
The Isles have known much corruption and fraud in its intricate web of politics. In its early days, the islands were administered by a king, whose divine rights protected his power. Ultimately, though, the crown became an inheritance that was passed down through a royal bloodline for centuries. This came about as the result of one nefarious king who, despite his religious background, behaved unscrupulously. His Machiavellian means to sustain his own power, even in the midst of civil unrest and war, were thought by many to be self-serving and miserly. At length, civil war broke out (many took this as an opportune time to reshape the government since there were already tensions existing between the humans and the dwarves) and this king was usurped by a lion of a man who promised the people a division of powers. He organized a cabinet and named it the First Civic Council, so as to disperse powers among the different races to reduce racial tensions across the Isles, yet many were displeased when they learned this was only a ploy to divert attention long enough for him to seize complete and absolute power as Galaesa's new monarch. His name was Sir Cedric Trollope, and many despised him, but his catering to the common man and to the farming district of the Isles earned him a lot of undeserved praise, drowning out any and all criticisms of his authority. Thus began the rule of a royal bloodline that would maintain itself for centuries.
The throne was passed from the Trollopes to the Prescotts, from the Prescotts to the Townsends. The last king of the Isles was named Fairleigh Wyther, and though a benignant king he was, the general populace, in observance of the newly instituted government of Issolor, thought it well to evolve from a monarchial system to a more parliamentary system. Thus, in the year 1808, Galaesa adopted a more democratic form of government, though, in order to preserve its royal traditions, it properly became a constitutional monarchy, combining a monarch head of state with a Parliament. Such a political reform has produced great appeasement among the citizens of Wingsten, and as the world herded its inhabitants into the 20th century, many thought this would an era of peace and goodwill. But not everyone among the Isles is satisfied. Perhaps Galaesa waited too late to reform its political system, perhaps not. Either way, there are whispers of war in the air as a league of anarchists begins to wake and stir from its ancient slumber.
THE ISLES
Issolor: Issolor is the central and largest island of the Isles of Wingsten and the location of the capital city of Trensby. Issolor is a craggy landmass with scattered groves of trees along the shelves of the crags. Most of the island is developed, with only one city, Trensby, existing on the island, surrounded by residential districts. Trensby stretches along the eastern border of the island, with an elaborate wharf built into the stony bedrock of the landmass where airships are moored. Trensby is a sprawling city with a couple thousand residents; some call it the Celestial City because of its silvery glow in broad daylight and its stately Romanesque buildings and towers. Trensby is the financial hub of the isles, the distributor of wealth, as well as the home of the Governor of the isles. Some of the most distinguished elites in the isles live near and work on Leeside Promenade, the most powerful and prosperous street in Trensby. One would find mostly high elves and humans here, though there are some other varieties of elves that have made it big on Leeside. As for the rest of the city, most of it mirrors the affluency of Leeside, though looks can be deceiving. There is a stretch of the city called the Downsery, a skid row of sorts, which often tarnishes the clean image of Trensby, especially during economic recessions. The Downsery is mostly inhabited by dwarf gangs and dark elves. It is here where the Black Market of Trensby thrives most, though there are locations all over Issolor, and even beyond the island, where the Market operates. One of the most noteworthy ones is underground, managed by a notorious dwarf gang. North of Trensby is a lift that connects Brenduil to Issolor.
Brenduil: Brenduil is a small island that lingers above Issolor's northernmost tip, jointed to Issolor by a twin lift system that carries passengers to and from Brenduil. This island is characterized by its upscale climate and affluent residents. A slightly hilly terrain rich with greenery and riddled with large manors and grand estates, Brenduil is by itself an expression of the isles' disparity between the rich and poor- the proletariats and the elites. Next to Leeside Promenade, Brenduil is an ideal target for the anarchists, though strangely there have been few confirmed attacks on any of the estates of Brenduil. In any case, this island is mostly inhabited by the high elves, possibly the wealthiest specimen existing in Doaven. These elves have frequent parties and participate in much of Trensby's economic and government activities.
Crobwyn: An island of pasturelands and meadows, Crobwyn is where the bulk of farming and agriculture takes place. Although there are some elfish and dwarfish farmers, most husbandry of the Isles of Wingsten is managed by humans. Dispersed among the farms and crop fields are several small stone villages, in which dwell many dwarfish traders and merchants who thrive off the humans' needs for farming equipment. Crobwyn is embellished with large reservoirs and small babbling brooks that trickle off the edges of the island, down into the pockets of water in the deserts below. Though less developed than other islands, Crobwyn manages to keep pace with modern technology; most families own at least a tractor and a car, and radios are popular among the farmers and tillers to stay current with the news. Crobwyn also harbors wealthy denizens in large estates, often located on the edges of the island (as most of these elite families own an airship for transportation and recreation). Though generally peaceful and untroubled, there have been some instances of crop burnings and farm pillages in Crobwyn, thought to be staged by the rumored anarchists and connivers that disdain most government property. This is a common misconception, though, as farmers of Crobwyn are for the most part independent workers that represent the working class; the misconception is fed by the fact that about twenty percent of their crops belong to the government. In any case, Crobwyn is seldom caught in the crossfire of the anarchists and the loyalists and remains a haven for anyone that wishes to escape the perils of imminent war- unless you're part of the elite society.
Kelios: Kelios is perhaps the most forested isle in the sky, with acres of wood stretching across large tracts of mostly flat land. This is where the lumber industry thrives most, for most trees on the island are firs, cedars, and pines- the best quality wood for woodworking. Dotted among the trees are wood mills, especially along the banks of the Boundless River, formally known as Ysp Run, a wide channel that runs from East to West and bleeds into the canals of Sylvenore. Kelios is recognized for its elvish citizenry, for most lumberjacks and carpenters of Kelios are wood-elves. The wood-elves were native to this forest before the disintegration of Doaven, and while sylvans at heart, they have had to bend to the will of time over the last two centuries by pioneering the lumber industry among the Isles of Wingsten to keep current with the economy. Crowded among the trees are towns and cites of varying sizes, though the largest sits on the western bank of the Boundless River. This city is called Sylvenore, formerly known as Sylve-Senoer. Sylvenore is an ancient canal city that has sufficiently managed to preserve its early grandeur. It was originally built to connect the Boundless River to a smaller waterway on the city's western flank, called the Boniviir River, and today the city still serves its purpose. This is also where the industry thrives most in Kelios. With several mills in its outlying districts and an efficient canal system, Sylvenore is the main exporter of timber. Their products are carried downstream to a mechanical wharf built on the south end of Kelios, where the timber is transported to the other islands via different air services. Sylvenore is an elegant city that attracts visitors from all over the Isles. Its magnificent buildings, with airy bridges and balconies, corner towers, and red shingled roofs, its intricate canals, through which travel small transporter ships and gondolas, and its natural environment coexisting with the industrial atmosphere have collectively garnered the city a lot of publicity. Yet that may prove troublesome for the rumored anarchists that operate in Sylvenore and other outlying towns. Kelios is said to be a huge contributor to the black market, and a lot of the anarchists' munitions are thought to be manufactured and transportered to and from here.
Dweif: An island that rests the highest in the sky among the Isles. As a result, Dweif is a snowy region, populated by white-filled taigas and a mountain range, known as the Galagord Mountains, that cuts diagonally across the island. Although airships travel frequently to-and-from Dweif, they're typically carrying raw resources, not people, though the occasional person may visit Dweif for the sake of seeing the place. Dweif is populated mostly by dwarves, who are hardy enough to live in the cold. Many of them live in caves carved out into the mountains, underground, or in log cabins set up within Dweif's freezing forests. There are, however, rumors of a group of people who live at the peaks of the mountains. Nobody has ever climbed up the mountains and come back down to report their findings, and the mountains are too high for airships to safely reach. Dweif primarily exports wood and minerals mined from the mountains. In exchange, they receive tools, food, and technology. Very little agriculture takes place here. The residents of Dweif mainly get their food from imports, hunting, and the few varieties of mushrooms they're able to grow in their mountain-caves. There exists some source of water beneath the mountains that those on Dweif tap into. The water is fresh, though nobody truly knows how the water got there. Very few cities exist on Dweif; the island is mostly filled with smaller villages within the forests or set up in the mountains. Though the architecture of Dweif's buildings is rather primitive, the people of Dweif have access to the same technology found on the other islands as a result of their imports. They don't actually manufacture anything on Dweif, they simply dispense raw materials for the use of the other islands, as well as working to keep themselves alive. As a result of this, Dweif is relatively free from any sort of civil unrest or from plotting by anarchists. However, Dweif is a valuable island, being the primary supplier of materials for the rest of the Isles. If the anarchists were able to turn Dweif to their side, they'd be at a major advantage.
Galaesa: If Issolor represents the "New World" of the Isles, Galaesa is a figure of the old one, for its present political nature can be traced back to its monarchial roots from centuries ago. Despite Issolor's independence as a sort of province of Galaesa, this island embodies a working government body that keeps the islands unified and productive. Their government functions as a Parliament with representatives dispersed among the Isles, one of which being the Governor of Trensby. Despite Galaesa's political sovereignty, Issolor is in a state of salutary neglect, which has not weakened the bonds between the two Isles, but strengthened them in this time of civil unrest as a body of anarchists plot to overthrow the working government. Galaesa is largely inhabited by High Elves, Dark Elves, and humans, though almost all leadership positions are held by the elvenkind, especially in Parliament, with a slightly larger presence of High Elves. Galaesa has been deforested over the years, so now the island is composed mostly of plains and farmland. However, there are several great cities dispersed among the island; Galaesa's industrialization over the past century is its defining characteristic these days. The capital city of Adreadom, familiarly known as the Somnolent City, has a Gothic and Victorian character that's archetypal of Galaesa's architecture. It's built along the shores of the River Flent, with several canals branching off and snaking through the city districts. Because of Adreadom's sheer political power, it has become a primary target for the anarchists, yet its vast security has prevented any remarkable damage so far. Yet, despite its name, Adreadom is a not the sleepy little Hamlet it once was- its citizens live in persistent fear of bombings and other ranges of attacks, and its political hub, wherein lies the Capital building, the Parliament building, and other political and economic edifices, seems to teeter on the edge of devastation.
_________________
Today's a new day, and you're ready to face it. Standing in front of your mirror in your home in ____________ [current island of residence], you notice yourself for the first time in weeks. Work has been demanding of you lately, and you haven't had the proper chance to take a good look at yourself. Now you can afford such a luxury, and you notice a number of things....
You're: >Elvish >Dwarven >Human
You're also: >Male >Female
And you recognize some prominent features in your appearance: >List some |
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Z0rr0w
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| Joined: 06 Jul 2008 |
| Total Posts: 14027 |
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| 31 Mar 2016 11:00 PM |
This place isn't much to me, but it's home. Here, in Issolor. I wouldn't be too upset about living on this island if I didn't also live in Downsery. Looking in the mirror now, a part of me wishes I had darker skin and pointed ears. At least I'd fit in more easily. But no, in the mirror stares back the masculine brown eyes of a Human.
The man in the mirror has light skin and a rough face. I know he's 26, but he looks a bit older than that. I can see age starting to grip him, I see it in the lines in his face. Some of those lines are scars, not wrinkles. There are quite a few of those scars, though many of them are fairly small. The more prominent of them are on his somewhat-built body. I trace my finger over one scar stretching from the upper left portion of my torso down diagonally to the center of my body. The man in the mirror does the same.
I move my eyes back up to the reflection's head. He has a full head of black hair, swept back and cut somewhat short. I can see his widow's peak, but his hair isn't thinning just yet. Sometimes I think it'll happen to me sooner than most. Clinging to the man's face is a rather rough-looking beard. Maybe I'll shave it one day. Hmph, maybe I'll sprout wings and fly out of this town one day too.
I turn away from the mirror and walk off to get dressed. My clothes for today are nothing special. A white shirt that needs to be washed, over that a dark-beige waistcoat with a single row of done-up buttons painted in a dull gold color running down the center. Next, I pull on my black trousers, white socks, and black shoes. Nothing particularly special about those shoes, except that they're past the point where I should've replaced them.
Before I head out, I make sure to put my dark brown, wool coat on as well. It's always a bit cold around here. There were never any buttons on this coat of mine. It was hand-sewn by a girl I used to know. Someone rich thought she was pretty. After a few trysts took place between those two, she left Downsery. I'm still here though, working in the Black Market against my better judgement. |
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| 31 Mar 2016 11:29 PM |
Your nostalgic reminiscences of young love are cut short as you remember your appointment for that day. It isn't ideal, but working for a Downsery dwarven mafia puts food on the table, and at the end of the day, isn't that what matters most? In any case, the Boss has scheduled you to sell a container of potions to an Upper City businessman- a Leeside baron no less. He's said to be a prominent figure in the elixir industry, so what he wants with a supply of illegal potions is beyond all guesswork.
The Gold Miners - that's what they call themselves these days - value you not as a proper agent, but as a worthy ingredient to the Family. You bring something new and fresh to the table. Perhaps it's your charismatic persona. Or perhaps it's simply your human nature. Either way, you're the best man for the Upper City dealings because you're the only man in the Family. Hu-man, that is. How you got tangled up with a mob of dwarves... well, that's a story for another time. You have a job to do, and the Boss appreciates punctuality.
It's time to head up Dimrock Avenue and reach the Den. The Boss is waiting. |
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Z0rr0w
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| Joined: 06 Jul 2008 |
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| 31 Mar 2016 11:34 PM |
I hope the Boss doesn't also want me to exchange words with this baron. I doubt I'll meet the baron face-to-face though. He's likely to send one of his servants or trusted friends to come pick up the potions. This job shouldn't be anything too taxing or dangerous for my health though.
Making sure my clothes are on properly, I walk past my mirror, then out the door. Making sure to lock up my house, I head off in a bit of a hurry to the Den. I don't want to be late, and I don't want to be out in the streets of Downsery for too long either. Too many bad men and bad memories live out here. |
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| 31 Mar 2016 11:57 PM |
The Den, despite its luring name, is nothing more than a ramshackle row house in between two stinking tenement buildings. It's three stories high with red brick and busted windows. For all their wealth, the Gold Miners apparently can't afford anything a little easier on the eyes. It's not what you see that matters, the Boss often tells you. A man never finds his gold until he picks up his axe and mines. Never mind the dirt and the soot that covers it.
Well, his philosophy hasn't proved wrong so far. The two dwarves posted at the door to the Den, whom you recognize as Hargus and Thorak, give you their greetings and open the door for you. Inside, you find yourself within the Family barroom. It's dingy and hazy with smoke, but that's never bothered you too much. Around the perimeter are plush red booths, and at its center sits the bar. Low-hanging chandeliers cast ghostly shadows on the patterned walls. This is where all the money goes. This is what the Boss lives for.
Across the room, two elvish girls perform onstage for the Family. Cackling (and cat-calling) dwarves sit around the Boss, who, in his lavish throne, looks like a proper king. One of the performers, looking grimly uncomfortable - and rightly so; gratifying, comfortable work is unheard of in the Downsery - looks briefly at you, but that's enough to signal the Boss. He gets up and turns to face you.
"There 'e is!" the Boss exclaims from across the room. "There's my boy! Come 'ere, lemme get a good look at you!" |
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Z0rr0w
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| Joined: 06 Jul 2008 |
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| 01 Apr 2016 12:52 AM |
Don't need that attention drawn to me Boss, I was going over to you anyway. I see this place hasn't been renovated at all. I'm sure it's for a good reason. Making this place look good would also make it stick out. At least the interior can look a bit nicer. This is my home away from home, and I'm not sure that I'm too happy about that.
I walk past the Gold Miners, turning my eyes away from their elvish "friends" so as not to make them even more uncomfortable. I'm never very interested in the performers that come here anyhow. Something about them repels me, and that probably serves in my best interests.
I stop in front of the Boss and wait to be spoken to by him before I start trying to open my mouth and flap my tongue. |
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| 01 Apr 2016 12:05 PM |
The Boss favors his ancestors in appearance; he's a crude looking dwarf with a thick, dark beard and much cleaner, slicker hair that's beginning to thin with age. His voice is deep and husky, like that of a mountain. Yet despite his Spartan features, he dresses like a moneyed man. He sports a black dinner jacket with matching trousers, and a complementing bowler hat to demonstrate his wealth.
The Boss twiddles with his beard as his brow furrows and he asks, "Say, boy... what's your name again?" |
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Z0rr0w
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| Joined: 06 Jul 2008 |
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| 01 Apr 2016 05:31 PM |
I'm not surprised he's forgotten my name. He rarely ever uses it, he usually just calls me "boy." I don't mind, it's better than him calling me something blatantly condescending. Every time I see the Boss, I still find myself put off by the dissonance in his physical appearance and his clothing. I guess he looks the part of the Boss of the Gold Miners.
"It's Ahab, sir." |
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| 01 Apr 2016 06:22 PM |
The Boss snaps his fingers. "That's right, I remember now! Alright, boy, you know what to do. Mr. Wetherleigh will be sending one of his lackeys to meet you on Wyvernview Road. And remember," He gripped your chin in his hand and said earnestly, "Accept no less than eighty silver dimes. Mr. Wetherleigh's a respectable business partner, but he's also a weasel. And we all have to play the game fairly."
The Boss beckons another dwarf over with his finger. "Hjoldan will show you the container. Hjoldan." A look of understanding passes between them, and the red-headed dwarf, broodingly stroking his beard, he gestures for you to follow him upstairs.
The attic isn't any more glamorous than the façade of the row house. It's small and musty, with pale streams of light falling through the decaying ceiling. Around the perimeter are stacks of containers and barrels full of all varieties of potions. This isn't even half of them. Most of the Family's wares are stored in a warehouse down on Chapel Row. |
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Z0rr0w
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| Joined: 06 Jul 2008 |
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| 01 Apr 2016 08:19 PM |
I nod to the Boss, then turn to follow Hjoldan upstairs. Shouldn't be hard to get at least eighty silver dimes from whoever Wetherleigh sends. I'm sure he has more than enough to pay that much. I wonder if I'll get a bigger cut if I manage to get more. Maybe, maybe not.
I look around the attic, thanking the stars that I don't have to be up here very often. "Small" and "musty" don't go together very well. "Which one am I taking?" I ask Hjoldan, looking around at all the containers and barrels scattered around the attic. |
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| 01 Apr 2016 09:16 PM |
"That one there," says Hjoldan, pointing to a small crate of potions on top of a stack of larger containers. "Careful with these ones, Ahab," he adds as he strides over to the container and lifts out on the concoctions with such delicacy that he may as well have been handling a baby. "They're priceless. Imported all the way from Dweif. It's called ether, and I'd say it's one of the strongest potions out there. We paid good money for the full batch, so they need to remain in mint condition until they're out of our hands."
He gently sits the potion back in the crate before handing it to you. The aroma alone is enough to do a number on you. "You better get on out there, son. The Boss's hostin' dinner for the Family tonight, and you know how he is. You miss the date, you miss a plate." |
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Z0rr0w
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| Joined: 06 Jul 2008 |
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| 01 Apr 2016 09:26 PM |
No wonder they're being stored here instead of in a warehouse with all the other common potions. Wetherleigh must be looking for a nice getaway. I nod to Hjoldan and pull my shirt up over my nose so as not to have my senses muddled by just the scent of this stuff. I wonder how long Wetherleigh will be able to make this shipment last. I carefully pick the crate up, then head down to the ground floor with an equal amount of care.
Hopefully Wyvernview Road isn't too far away from here. Making sure I have a good grip on the crate, I start heading there. |
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| 01 Apr 2016 09:46 PM |
You travel west of the Den a couple blocks, following the curve of the Downsery. The Downsery isn't quite large in scope at all; it only comprises three main streets. What gives it that impression is the wide berth it makes around Trensby's Upper City, or financial district, wherein lies Leeside Promenade. Being on the east end of the Downsery, you have to walk quite a number of blocks west before turning north and traveling along Wyvernview Road to a small, remote street corner where you can privately make the exchange with Wetherleigh's lackey.
The journey there is uninterrupted, but when you finally reach the street corner and find the young human lackey waiting patiently for you with his thumbs looped around his suspenders, you notice by his stiff and awkward mannerisms that he seems slightly perturbed. Could it be the Downsery? Possibly, except that you're not technically in the Downsery right now. No, something else seems to be gnawing at him. |
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Z0rr0w
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| Joined: 06 Jul 2008 |
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| 01 Apr 2016 10:57 PM |
Maybe he's nervous about the fact that Wetherleigh made him come by and pick up illegal potions. That is, if Wetherleigh even told him what he'd be coming by to pick up. I pull my head back to free my nose and mouth from my shirt, then walk towards the man at the street corner.
"What's your boss offering for this?" I ask, keeping the crate held close on the off-chance that this man might try to grab it from me and run. |
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| 02 Apr 2016 06:18 PM |
"Sixty-five silver dollars*," says the lackey, still appearing a little distracted as he moves his fingers up and down his suspenders and casts sidelong glances at the street from which he'd come. "With a few cents on the side. Call it a generous gesture."
*Mind that small adjustment. I'm changing the value to silver dollars. |
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Z0rr0w
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| Joined: 06 Jul 2008 |
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| 02 Apr 2016 06:34 PM |
"Look at me when you're talking," I order. What's he looking at? Is he being followed, or maybe watched? Maybe he has some friends with sharp items ready to jump me if they feel the deal is going wrong.
"This material here was very expensive. We'll all collectively get more mileage out of taking it all ourselves than we will out of your sixty-five silver dollars. We want ninety." |
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| 02 Apr 2016 06:40 PM |
| The lackey looks a little bewildered by your outburst, but at least now you have his attention. "No can do," he says guardedly, "My boss is... in a bit of a financial hole right now. He can't spare much until things settle down again. His condolences." |
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Z0rr0w
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| Joined: 06 Jul 2008 |
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| 02 Apr 2016 06:43 PM |
| "Then take yourself, and anyone you have hiding in the shadows, back to your boss and tell him to wait patiently for his wallet to fill back up before he tries to buy something he can't afford. My condolences." |
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| 02 Apr 2016 06:54 PM |
| "What?" The lackey looks suspiciously around the intersection and says, "I don't have anyone hiding in the shadows. That's not- okay, okay, fine." He withdraws a pouch of ninety silver dollars and lays it in your hands. "Look- there's financial trouble on Leeside. Someone's been stealing from the banks. They don't know who, but it's stirring up a small panic. A handful of depositors have already withdrawn almost all their savings. If this keeps up, the banks'll go under and there's no telling what might happen from there. You didn't hear this from me!" And with a courteous tip of his cap, the lackey dips down to pick up the crate of potions. |
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Z0rr0w
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| Joined: 06 Jul 2008 |
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| 02 Apr 2016 07:13 PM |
I don't deposit my money into banks, so it's of no concern to me what happens to them. I nod to the lackey as I put the pouch of money away in my pocket. "Tell your boss not to use all that stuff at once. Might kill him," I comment as I turn away to start walking back to the Den. |
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| 02 Apr 2016 07:22 PM |
Hjoldan waits for you at the entrance. He forces the door closed with the palm of his hand and narrows his inquiring eyes at you. "Well, son? Where is it? Boss said not to let you in 'till I seen the money myself."
Though it may be called a Family, it doesn't always behave as well. There's a mutual understanding among the members that the Boss must reserve his suspicions even in situations like this. No one can be completely trusted in a skid row. That's just the nature of the Downsery. |
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Z0rr0w
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| Joined: 06 Jul 2008 |
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| 02 Apr 2016 07:27 PM |
| "You can count it out yourself too," I say, taking the pouch out of my pocket and handing it to Hjoldan. I fold my arms and wait patiently for him to be satisfied with the silver dollars held in the pouch. |
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| 02 Apr 2016 07:33 PM |
| His eyes flicker from you to the pouch and back again as he counts the money. Then his face breaks into a smile. "Good lad. Everyone's inside. Boss is hostin' dinner inside tonight. Says he's got good news. No wonder he's been in such a good mood today." Hjoldan takes his hand off the door and jingles the pouch of silver dollars delightedly, waiting for you to go in. |
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Z0rr0w
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| Joined: 06 Jul 2008 |
| Total Posts: 14027 |
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| 02 Apr 2016 07:36 PM |
| Hjoldan's probably going to be the one to give the money to the Boss. I don't mind that. I nod to Hjoldan and head inside. Wonder what kind of good news the Boss has. I wonder if it's just good news for him, or for all of us. Maybe he's going to tell us that we're rich because he was the one robbing the banks. I doubt that'll be the case. |
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| 02 Apr 2016 07:54 PM |
There has never existed a world so ghastly and gritty as Daoven, one sprawling desert with only small reservoirs and sparse tree groves and vegetation to conserve the small life Daoven harbors on the surface. Neither man nor elf nor dwarf has ever prevailed over the forces of nature, and thus has never civilized the untamed world- not the Whistling Crags of the north, nor the eastern High Dunes, and neither the misty Grey Dells of the west. Doaven is unforgiving to those that come into this world ill-prepared and unwilling to adapt. For centuries, intelligent life has tried in vain to tame the Deserts of Doaven. Each time, they have fallen to either illness, starvation, drought, or the savage beasts of prey that scour the sands in search of their next meal, which is few and far between among the Deserts of Doaven.
One may wonder, if intelligent life exists in Doaven, where then does it come from?
There exists above the Deserts six soaring islands, upon which are plentifully bestrewn peaks and rivers, forests and valleys, lakes and grasslands. The islands were carved from the earth in ancient days before the world was turned to sand and sandstone in a war of magic and divinity that erased almost all traces of life in Doaven. The islands were fused with magical properties to sustain the test of time and remain eternally among the clouds, yet in response to the reckless war that brought ruin to Doaven, magic became a strict discipline, used purposely and harmlessly to cater to the needs of the three races that dwelt in Doaven- the men, the elves, and the dwarves. Over time, magic became fused with technology until at last it was no longer thought of as an extension of one's body, or even an art for that matter, but a tool to advance life and technology together on the Isles of Wingsten, named for a wizard of ancient days who discovered that magical properties could be fused with natural properties to form "magitech", one of man's greatest innovations.
The Isles have known much corruption and fraud in its intricate web of politics. In its early days, the islands were administered by a king, whose divine rights protected his power. Ultimately, though, the crown became an inheritance that was passed down through a royal bloodline for centuries. This came about as the result of one nefarious king who, despite his religious background, behaved unscrupulously. His Machiavellian means to sustain his own power, even in the midst of civil unrest and war, were thought by many to be self-serving and miserly. At length, civil war broke out (many took this as an opportune time to reshape the government since there were already tensions existing between the humans and the dwarves) and this king was usurped by a lion of a man who promised the people a division of powers. He organized a cabinet and named it the First Civic Council, so as to disperse powers among the different races to reduce racial tensions across the Isles, yet many were displeased when they learned this was only a ploy to divert attention long enough for him to seize complete and absolute power as Galaesa's new monarch. His name was Sir Cedric Trollope, and many despised him, but his catering to the common man and to the farming district of the Isles earned him a lot of undeserved praise, drowning out any and all criticisms of his authority. Thus began the rule of a royal bloodline that would maintain itself for centuries.
The throne was passed from the Trollopes to the Prescotts, from the Prescotts to the Townsends. The last king of the Isles was named Fairleigh Wyther, and though a benignant king he was, the general populace, in observance of the newly instituted government of Issolor, thought it well to evolve from a monarchial system to a more parliamentary system. Thus, in the year 1808, Galaesa adopted a more democratic form of government, though, in order to preserve its royal traditions, it properly became a constitutional monarchy, combining a monarch head of state with a Parliament. Such a political reform has produced great appeasement among the citizens of Wingsten, and as the world herded its inhabitants into the 20th century, many thought this would an era of peace and goodwill. But not everyone among the Isles is satisfied. Perhaps Galaesa waited too late to reform its political system, perhaps not. Either way, there are whispers of war in the air as a league of anarchists begins to wake and stir from its ancient slumber.
THE ISLES
Issolor: Issolor is the central and largest island of the Isles of Wingsten and the location of the capital city of Trensby. Issolor is a craggy landmass with scattered groves of trees along the shelves of the crags. Most of the island is developed, with only one city, Trensby, existing on the island, surrounded by residential districts. Trensby stretches along the eastern border of the island, with an elaborate wharf built into the stony bedrock of the landmass where airships are moored. Trensby is a sprawling city with a couple thousand residents; some call it the Celestial City because of its silvery glow in broad daylight and its stately Romanesque buildings and towers. Trensby is the financial hub of the isles, the distributor of wealth, as well as the home of the Governor of the isles. Some of the most distinguished elites in the isles live near and work on Leeside Promenade, the most powerful and prosperous street in Trensby. One would find mostly high elves and humans here, though there are some other varieties of elves that have made it big on Leeside. As for the rest of the city, most of it mirrors the affluency of Leeside, though looks can be deceiving. There is a stretch of the city called the Downsery, a skid row of sorts, which often tarnishes the clean image of Trensby, especially during economic recessions. The Downsery is mostly inhabited by dwarf gangs and dark elves. It is here where the Black Market of Trensby thrives most, though there are locations all over Issolor, and even beyond the island, where the Market operates. One of the most noteworthy ones is underground, managed by a notorious dwarf gang. North of Trensby is a lift that connects Brenduil to Issolor.
Brenduil: Brenduil is a small island that lingers above Issolor's northernmost tip, jointed to Issolor by a twin lift system that carries passengers to and from Brenduil. This island is characterized by its upscale climate and affluent residents. A slightly hilly terrain rich with greenery and riddled with large manors and grand estates, Brenduil is by itself an expression of the isles' disparity between the rich and poor- the proletariats and the elites. Next to Leeside Promenade, Brenduil is an ideal target for the anarchists, though strangely there have been few confirmed attacks on any of the estates of Brenduil. In any case, this island is mostly inhabited by the high elves, possibly the wealthiest specimen existing in Doaven. These elves have frequent parties and participate in much of Trensby's economic and government activities.
Crobwyn: An island of pasturelands and meadows, Crobwyn is where the bulk of farming and agriculture takes place. Although there are some elfish and dwarfish farmers, most husbandry of the Isles of Wingsten is managed by humans. Dispersed among the farms and crop fields are several small stone villages, in which dwell many dwarfish traders and merchants who thrive off the humans' needs for farming equipment. Crobwyn is embellished with large reservoirs and small babbling brooks that trickle off the edges of the island, down into the pockets of water in the deserts below. Though less developed than other islands, Crobwyn manages to keep pace with modern technology; most families own at least a tractor and a car, and radios are popular among the farmers and tillers to stay current with the news. Crobwyn also harbors wealthy denizens in large estates, often located on the edges of the island (as most of these elite families own an airship for transportation and recreation). Though generally peaceful and untroubled, there have been some instances of crop burnings and farm pillages in Crobwyn, thought to be staged by the rumored anarchists and connivers that disdain most government property. This is a common misconception, though, as farmers of Crobwyn are for the most part independent workers that represent the working class; the misconception is fed by the fact that about twenty percent of their crops belong to the government. In any case, Crobwyn is seldom caught in the crossfire of the anarchists and the loyalists and remains a haven for anyone that wishes to escape the perils of imminent war- unless you're part of the elite society.
Kelios: Kelios is perhaps the most forested isle in the sky, with acres of wood stretching across large tracts of mostly flat land. This is where the lumber industry thrives most, for most trees on the island are firs, cedars, and pines- the best quality wood for woodworking. Dotted among the trees are wood mills, especially along the banks of the Boundless River, formally known as Ysp Run, a wide channel that runs from East to West and bleeds into the canals of Sylvenore. Kelios is recognized for its elvish citizenry, for most lumberjacks and carpenters of Kelios are wood-elves. The wood-elves were native to this forest before the disintegration of Doaven, and while sylvans at heart, they have had to bend to the will of time over the last two centuries by pioneering the lumber industry among the Isles of Wingsten to keep current with the economy. Crowded among the trees are towns and cites of varying sizes, though the largest sits on the western bank of the Boundless River. This city is called Sylvenore, formerly known as Sylve-Senoer. Sylvenore is an ancient canal city that has sufficiently managed to preserve its early grandeur. It was originally built to connect the Boundless River to a smaller waterway on the city's western flank, called the Boniviir River, and today the city still serves its purpose. This is also where the industry thrives most in Kelios. With several mills in its outlying districts and an efficient canal system, Sylvenore is the main exporter of timber. Their products are carried downstream to a mechanical wharf built on the south end of Kelios, where the timber is transported to the other islands via different air services. Sylvenore is an elegant city that attracts visitors from all over the Isles. Its magnificent buildings, with airy bridges and balconies, corner towers, and red shingled roofs, its intricate canals, through which travel small transporter ships and gondolas, and its natural environment coexisting with the industrial atmosphere have collectively garnered the city a lot of publicity. Yet that may prove troublesome for the rumored anarchists that operate in Sylvenore and other outlying towns. Kelios is said to be a huge contributor to the black market, and a lot of the anarchists' munitions are thought to be manufactured and transportered to and from here.
Dweif: An island that rests the highest in the sky among the Isles. As a result, Dweif is a snowy region, populated by white-filled taigas and a mountain range, known as the Galagord Mountains, that cuts diagonally across the island. Although airships travel frequently to-and-from Dweif, they're typically carrying raw resources, not people, though the occasional person may visit Dweif for the sake of seeing the place. Dweif is populated mostly by dwarves, who are hardy enough to live in the cold. Many of them live in caves carved out into the mountains, underground, or in log cabins set up within Dweif's freezing forests. There are, however, rumors of a group of people who live at the peaks of the mountains. Nobody has ever climbed up the mountains and come back down to report their findings, and the mountains are too high for airships to safely reach. Dweif primarily exports wood and minerals mined from the mountains. In exchange, they receive tools, food, and technology. Very little agriculture takes place here. The residents of Dweif mainly get their food from imports, hunting, and the few varieties of mushrooms they're able to grow in their mountain-caves. There exists some source of water beneath the mountains that those on Dweif tap into. The water is fresh, though nobody truly knows how the water got there. Very few cities exist on Dweif; the island is mostly filled with smaller villages within the forests or set up in the mountains. Though the architecture of Dweif's buildings is rather primitive, the people of Dweif have access to the same technology found on the other islands as a result of their imports. They don't actually manufacture anything on Dweif, they simply dispense raw materials for the use of the other islands, as well as working to keep themselves alive. As a result of this, Dweif is relatively free from any sort of civil unrest or from plotting by anarchists. However, Dweif is a valuable island, being the primary supplier of materials for the rest of the Isles. If the anarchists were able to turn Dweif to their side, they'd be at a major advantage.
Galaesa: If Issolor represents the "New World" of the Isles, Galaesa is a figure of the old one, for its present political nature can be traced back to its monarchial roots from centuries ago. Despite Issolor's independence as a sort of province of Galaesa, this island embodies a working government body that keeps the islands unified and productive. Their government functions as a Parliament with representatives dispersed among the Isles, one of which being the Governor of Trensby. Despite Galaesa's political sovereignty, Issolor is in a state of salutary neglect, which has not weakened the bonds between the two Isles, but strengthened them in this time of civil unrest as a body of anarchists plot to overthrow the working government. Galaesa is largely inhabited by High Elves, Dark Elves, and humans, though almost all leadership positions are held by the elvenkind, especially in Parliament, with a slightly larger presence of High Elves. Galaesa has been deforested over the years, so now the island is composed mostly of plains and farmland. However, there are several great cities dispersed among the island; Galaesa's industrialization over the past century is its defining characteristic these days. The capital city of Adreadom, familiarly known as the Somnolent City, has a Gothic and Victorian character that's archetypal of Galaesa's architecture. It's built along the shores of the River Flent, with several canals branching off and snaking through the city districts. Because of Adreadom's sheer political power, it has become a primary target for the anarchists, yet its vast security has prevented any remarkable damage so far. Yet, despite its name, Adreadom is a not the sleepy little Hamlet it once was- its citizens live in persistent fear of bombings and other ranges of attacks, and its political hub, wherein lies the Capital building, the Parliament building, and other political and economic edifices, seems to teeter on the edge of devastation.
_________________
Today's a new day, and you're ready to face it. Standing in front of your mirror in your home in ____________ [current island of residence], you notice yourself for the first time in weeks. Work has been demanding of you lately, and you haven't had the proper chance to take a good look at yourself. Now you can afford such a luxury, and you notice a number of things....
You're: >Elvish >Dwarven >Human
You're also: >Male >Female
And you recognize some prominent features in your appearance: >List some
made with blood sweat and paint.net http://www.roblox.com/beautiful-item?id=324359196 (+7721 posts because post count matters o_O) |
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