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Post by Orbak the Monster on Apr 14, 2013 18:39:07 GMT -5
Absalom means a great many things to a great many people. The city at the center of the world, an impossible conquest, a home for all lots of life, a place to meet and talk to the like-minded. This last reason is why you have come here.
In the dripping, soggy rot of the Puddles, within the relatively dry second floor of a decrepit building, a small group meets. Each believes they are what the world needs, and have considered going off on their own: however, the sudden spark of fights between good and evil has made being alone a suicide proposal. Thus, an alliance is needed to be secure in your chances.
The moldy, damp carpet under your feet might have been worth something once upon a time. The table in the middle of the room is rendered stable by a religious text found in a nearby drawer. Soft, once-comfortable furniture is scattered around, gathering mildew and animal urine. Not the greatest of places to gather, but... you hope to improve your standings. Your first meeting: and first goal, perhaps, is to conquer a base of operations. Travel isn't that much of a question, all that's left are the choices...
You know of several places that would make good choices for a base of operations, at least in temporary:
Anywhere, Hold of Belkzen: This would require the most effort and time spent on building materials, but the most freedom in what you get. No one cares if you slaughter a few orcs to get land, and it'd even likely be encouraged. The spiky mountains and volcanic activity also makes it a good spot to dissuade opposition to your rule, as well...
Darkmoon Vale, Andoran: Plenty of lumber and access to fresh water, the Vale's protectors are quite capable of defending their homes: kobolds, werewolves, hags, worgs and worse lie in wait. However, it remains attractive nonetheless, as these creatures become natural defenders, as does the difficulty to get there.
Nar-Voth, the Darklands: Why build up when you can build down? This, the uppermost layer of the Darklands is an amazing otherworldly place. Opening trade relations with residents would be easier, and opposition would think twice to follow. Of course it would be a little difficult to stake a claim and keep it, but isn't that half the fun?
Pale Mountain, Katapesh: The beautiful landscape of Katapesh is utterly ruined by a large tribe of gnolls. Taking this from the gnolls and their lord - the Carrion King - seems easy enough. Mineral resources abound, and the privacy can't be beat.
Any Island, the Shackles: Pirates think they're the scourge of the Inner Sea, simply because they're difficult to track, and commit themselves to special tactics. Taking an island from them seems an easy task... and preying on the pirates is a fast way to a whole lot of gold. One could ally with them, sure, but who in their right mind trusts a pirate?
Chateau Douleurs, Ustalav: A beautiful, remote building next to Lake Raiteso, nestled between the Hungry Mountains. One of the few places in Ustalav not under direct assault on all sides... well, until you show up, that is. A river takes one directly to the sea or the Ustalav capital, Caliphas.
(( Describe your character, decide on what to take. Interact with your fellow villains a bit! ))
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Post by Orbak the Monster on Apr 20, 2013 0:36:53 GMT -5
Rikdiirn was displeased.
Not by the state of his companions, no: they were all in the same state of uncomfortable, slightly damp, poor, and damned by their own societies. They, he could understand. What earned Rikdiirn's ire was the place they met. An attractive frown graced the elven man's pale features. A noble wouldn't have to deal with this... of course, he was no noble. Not anymore.
The man ran a hand through his long brown hair, looking upon the others for a moment... not a bad bunch, and he figured he could take them if they decided to betray him. Already, he came up with strategic plans against their inevitable betrayals. A disturbing habit, and not one he intended to vocalize. With a few words and a hand gesture, the dried those that arrived, regardless of protests. Prestidigitation. Where he was from, the cantrip was a joke. Now it was a necessity.
Thin and handsome, the wood elven man had arrived and spoken to them. Equally fed up and looking to make something of themselves. Good. With a gentle gesture to each of them, he states, "Well, there we have it. My own knowledge of the Inner Sea region has laid this information bare. All it needs now is to be selected upon." Once more his hands go to his hair, removing the bindings that had turned it into a ponytail. "I believe we are capable, as a unified group, of liberating a place for ourselves from your-... Our. Our oppressors." He gives a slow nod, beginning to pace.
"As I have stated, I am a wizard. I have studied for longer than some of you have existed, in one of the best schools in the Inner Sea region. Top of my class, no less." His smile turned sinister for a moment - top of his class. No one that appeared superior to him had survived. The smile immediately turns wistful. "Ah, youth. I miss it more than I miss several dead relatives." His smooth, reverberating voice was just a step below hypnotic. The sway of his hair added to the appeal, perhaps... or the cut of his outfit... or the scar over his eye. Whatever it was, it begged to be listened to.
"Though if I might make a suggestion... The Darklands and Andoran might be a little... tough. Not to take the place indicated, but to keep it. I have full confidence we can do it, and do it together - triumphing over adversity and striking out against those who defy us. Breaking down the walls to the castle of injustice and driving a stake through the heart of negativity..." He chuckles, allowing him to enter 'speech mode' for just a moment. It always made him feel important, which made his ears wriggle.
"...Though we've been through enough hardship, have we not? We have been warned off the so-called 'easy route' for this long in our lives by the folks we now stand against. I'm for finding out what it's like... winning, for once." His brown eyes shift to a blue color. "After all, we have to potential to be quite powerful. I..." His hair begins to turn a crimson red, starting at the roots and extending. "...Am an excellent judge of character."
Dramatics aside, it was then that he allowed his 'disguise self' to slowly drop. The rugged face of the wood elf gave way to the sleek, sinister visage of a drow. His body thinned, becoming slender and quick. The bow attached to his back vanished entirely, a mere glamor. His voice hit the air like fine silk, as he continued, "So, new friends. I have dropped my charade. My name is not what I introduced myself to you as. I am Rikdiirn..." His tone turns jovial, "I am, as you can no doubt tell, a drow. One that has deemed it fit to be on your side." He gestures at his companions. "I do hope our arrangement is a suitable, beneficial one for all of us. I have no doubt it will be."
"However..." He concedes, "I am an illusionist. A drow illusionist. I have poisoned, lied, cheated, slept with, stabbed, and clawed my way through life just to live this long. You would have done the same. It is for that reason, however, that I've shown myself to you. Truth, for just a moment. You see, were I to continue as the elf you say me as before... why, eventually one of you would catch on, see me as some sort of threat, and we'd be forced to kill each other in one way or another." He smiles, "That's not a very effective way to do things. So, I have decided to begin our partnership with this." He gestures at the filthy environment surrounding them. "Do you want to live in this sort of squalor for the rest of your life? I don't - and to lift ourselves out, we need to help each other out. Also, perhaps trod upon those below us, as those have done to us.
"After all... it's only fair, isn't it?"
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Post by Talathel Norovir on Apr 30, 2013 13:27:59 GMT -5
Ruusan listened, his eyes playing over the others gathered, as the elf spoke. They would make for quite the sight, he was sure, should any other be present to see them. But no one else *was* present, only these few and himself. That was the most attractive part of their current accommodations, after all; no one else wanted them.
Though "only" might be more appropriate than "most". The squalor that surrounded them was made tolerable only by it's necessity. The air was heavy with the damp, and his cloak and clothing were likewise. Someplace better would have to be found; indeed, unless Ruusan was mistaken, that was the point the elf was working his way around to.
It startled him slightly, when at a gesture from the slight figure across the table, his garments suddenly lightened, and no longer clung sullenly to his skin. Some part of the chill left with the damp, and Ruusan found himself wishing he'd had that little trick up his own sleeve, during his previous travels. All the same it pleased him, and he nodded his thanks toward the elf.
He did indeed then get to the point, that this was no fit place for them to live, to plan, to claim what they would. What's more, the elf seemed to have alternatives in mind. An orc settlement (which one hardly mattered) in a chaotic "nation"; a valley in the country of the freedom fighters; a sliver of the dark and mysterious world below the surface; a mountain fortress in a land ruled by coin; an island to be plundered from pirate lords; a manor house in a haunted country. Any one of them would serve, though some better than others. In particular, the island; stolen from thieves, nestled as it was within a chaotic flow of ships laden with treasure, ripe for the raiding... the thought appealed to Ruusan. The mountain redoubt, hidden away in a land full of merchants, was interesting as well, and promised it's own set of possibilities.
Ruusan was drawn back from his imaginings, when the elf began to change. His hair, once brown, turned a red to rival Ruusan's own eyes; the pale flesh of his face took on an ashen color, and his featured sharpened yet further. In a moment, the change was complete, the elven woodsman replaced by one of it's darker kin, a drow of the Darklands.
The light from Ruusan's eye brightened slightly with his surprise, then settled back down to it's customary smoulder, as he regained his composure. A drow. A very interesting development... He had heard many stories of the dark elves. Their dangerous cunning. Their duplicity. Their skill with dark magics. It was hard to know what was to be believed and not, but he’d never heard anyone speak of the drow above a whisper or without a curse. This drow in particular, however, had just displayed a great deal of open-handedness. Ruusan was quite good at reading people, and had only gotten better in the time since his transformation. And yet he had had no idea, no inclination that the elf was anything other than what it was. He could easily have continued to hide. His logic as he explained why he chose to reveal himself made sense, but at the same time, that he was interested in building trust with actual honesty said a good deal in itself. Either he was sincere, or he was setting them up for an ever greater betrayal. Ruusan was unsure; normally, he would assume that if someone was luring him into a trap, he would know, but Rikdiirn, as it seemed he was called, had just show Ruusan that he could not be easily read. It made him suspicious.
But no. Not right now. Trust was called for, and so trust would be given. At least, until such time as one of his new friends proved themselves unworthy of it. If he was going to accomplish what he had set out to, he would need these people. And to do the same, they would need him. Need each other. It had been a long time since Ruusan had had others he could rely upon, but now that common cause was made, his goals were theirs, and theirs his. And he felt Rikdiirn was right: together, there was little they would not be able to accomplish. A day would come when the people of this world tremble to hear their names.
But that day is not this one, and there much and more to do. When Rikdiirn had finished, Ruusan spoke, his voice heavy, with a slight rasp under it, as though it was little used. “The islands sounds a likely target, and pirates ships, heavy with loot from their raids and sailed by men drunk on success and rum make pretty targets for raiding in turn. Though, too, the mountain would be out of the way, and give us room to grow, as it were. If we are thorough enough in ousting the gnolls who now hold the place, we may even gain the gratitude of the merchants who hold sway there. Never a bad thing. “ he looked across to his new friends, pausing briefly at each in turn, to look upon their faces. “What say you all?”
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Post by Lorelei on Jul 22, 2013 3:50:53 GMT -5
The azure undine perked up from the corner where she'd sat with her arms around her knees. She pushed herself out of her chair and stretched to her full height, took a deep breath in through her nose and out through her gills, and floated to the window, gazing out across the sodden cityscape below. Somewhere among the mildewed stench of urban decay, she could still make out the salty-sweet tang of an ocean breeze. The notion made her homesick. Never to behold the tall, majestic, lush green cliffs that overlooked the sea again. Never to gaze longingly off the coast and wait for his long-overdue return. She was filled not only with longing for her homeland of Varisia, but also for her betrothed Iacobus, who she'd also likely never see again. A bitter resentment welled up in her for a moment, but she suppressed it.
"The Shackles."
She turned to face the room again. "I say the Shackles. Islands have long been a place of exile and escape. I find that I draw my strength from the sea."
And lose everything to the sea.
He'd gotten back on his boat and left, swearing his love for her, swearing he'd be back in three weeks, just like every other time he left. It was so routine. Just once she wanted to come with him. See the world. Explore. The sweeping slopes and sandy valleys of Katapesh. The verdant canopies and flowing grasslands of the Mwangi Expanse. Sweeping, stretching swaths of blue skies speckled with puffs of fluffy clouds of gray and white, pulled taut over a tumultuous wash of frenzied sea. Their ship slicing though the tortured waves, swirling eddies, ever-shifting currents, the world as their oyster, Golarion their playground.
But now there was someone else. And he was gone. Some harlot had won him over. He probably had some whore in every port anyway. That was the reputation all sailors had anyway, right? A cute kitsune in Tian Xia. A beautiful elf in Kyonin. Vampiress in Ustalav. Djini in Osirion. Probably even a ratfolk or two in the Sodden Lands. That would be so like Iacobus. The scum. He didn't deserve her anyway. She was so much better than him. Yeah, she was just a barmaid. No, pub owner. See? She was better than him. And she had magic in her. The blood of her long-dead ancestors from beneath the waves coursed through her veins, giving her powers that she didn't even understand, but she wanted to reign in and make her own so badly.
These men she'd met with. They had so much to offer her. They could teach her to control the tempest that boiled beneath the surface and the emotions and the power that surged through her. They could mold her into what she needed to be to find her revenge. Rikdiirn had been to an academy. He'd studied this stuff. He'd exposed his true self to them, laid bare for the group assembled to see. She could, of course, do the same, but being unguarded had gotten her hurt in the past. She wasn't quite ready to dive in with both feet just yet. Putting a toe in the water like this was definitely a start.
"I'm Lorelei. From Varisia. Where you go, I go. I have nothing left to lose."
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Post by Orbak the Monster on Jul 22, 2013 17:38:02 GMT -5
Rikdiirn looked to the two, in case either of them were of the type to change their minds. They didn't - this endeared them to him. In a world where second-guessing was common, he had always been enthralled with people who could make up their mind and keep it. As he folded his arms, he reflected on those who had trouble doing just that - and their tendency to betray. The absolute chaos of the Darklands - his so-called 'home' - was proof of that. "Then that's settled. I could have gone for any of them, but having a group that agrees right off the bat bodes well for our future."
"The Shackles... while it's strange to think it, we might have an advantage there. Superstitious pirates and sailors will be easy to prey upon. Why, I can almost imagine conquering one of those pretty little 'towns' they've got down there... ah, one step at a time." He grinned, his silken voice announcing his desires to his co-conspirators. His gaze turned to look upon the undine. "You have a special advantage there. I lack knowledge of the sea, so I'll be relying heavily on your expertise." He nodded, hoping the compliment got through. "I can understand exile... escape. The path we'll be taking begins with it. It ends in triumph." Said with all the confidence of a hero... or perhaps, a would-be tyrant.
His gaze turned to Ruusan, "Meanwhile, I'll be counting on your strength. The Shackles is a country founded on wit, but it's kept in line by tactics and power. It's difficult for me to go toe-to-toe with surfacer pirates, or even land-bound warriors. I have full confidence you'll be able to start a legend for yourself up there." He chuckles in a malevolent manner, "I've never been graced with a demonstration of your abilities, but I trust that'll be worth the wait."
He reaches forward, curling up the maps on the table. "Well! I'd ask if we should start our hand at piracy here, but that's practically suicide on the Absalom docks... and no ships venture into the Shackles. We'll need to charter a ship to somewhere close by... Rahadoum if you're in for a walk, the Sodden Lands if we can get reliable transport around the Eye."
It had taken a lot for him to admit his weaknesses in the area to them - however, he knew the stakes involved. He can't have them thinking he's overtly capable and risk them not helping when he's in danger. Such a mistake would be laughable, and likely cost him his own life. Alternatively, having the two of them consider his weaknesses was... harrowing, to say the least. He began to add that knowledge into his plans to counter a betrayal, if needed. It never hurts to be prepared.
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Post by Talathel Norovir on Aug 4, 2013 0:06:37 GMT -5
Ruusan watched the undine, as she spoke. This one is weak, he thought. And yet... She had great potential. Ruusan felt that there was power sleeping within her. If she could unlock that power, she would be a force to be reckoned with. She has potential. he thought to himself again. As she introduced herself, and finished speaking, Ruusan smiled just slightly. And perhaps, the will to realize it. Good.
He listened in turn as the Rikdiirn spoke, and thought he was right; That they could agree this readily was a good sign. If they had begun by bickering, by each pressing their own ideas, point-and-counterpoint into the night, it might have spoiled their fledgling alliance with rivalry and wounded pride. Never an auspicious thing. Much better this easy accord, at least in the beginning. Eventually, they would all learn who opinions to trust in various matters, but at the beginning, all must be willing to listen.
As the drow continued, Ruusan had to admit he was right about the undine as well; at sea, she would likely be a great asset. He hoped she would, at least; with success would come confidence, and with confidence, she would be that much closer to what she was capable of.
A slow smile crept across Ruusan's face as Rikdiirn spoke to him. The smouldering light from his eyes brightened somewhat again, as the wizard chuckled to himself, and this time it did not dim. He resisted the sudden but passing urge to draw his blade, then and there. It rarely failed to impress those who had never seen it before, but it would also be rude to interrupt Rikdiirn with such a display, and might even be misinterpreted as aggression. That would not do at all. And so Ruusan restrained himself.
"I confess, I do not know these places. But the Sodden Lands sound..." Ruusan looked around them, to the half-rotted, sunken building in which they gathered. "...distinctly unpleasant. I think I would prefer the walk." He stood then, offering a a small bow that was little more than a nod to his companions. "My name is Ruusan. I was born in the shadow of the Silver Mount. I am a warrior, and you can count on my sword arm, as thought it was your own."
At least, he added inwardly, Until and unless you turn on me. He hoped they would not, for he felt that together they could achieve much. The three of us against the world... It might just be possible. And who knew? They might even find others who they could trust. Others would would trade friendship and loyalty for a share of the spoils. And even if not, they would be a force to be reckoned with, once they had had time to mature, to train and grow. A good beginning, he thought.
Ruusan looked to his new companions then, to see what they thought about travel arrangements.
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