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Post by imp on May 31, 2013 4:01:40 GMT -8
To each horizon and beyond the great trees spread their arms wide. Dense mist slips through the high canopy like colorless shades. It is a cool moment, predawn. Crisp, the view from the shoulders of the colossus is unmatched among the worn hills of old Grun Bisseth. The proud cloudlets roll slowly up the hillsides and emerge backlit, glorious in rosy golden coronas, capturing the first spark of sun as it spreads glittering red light along the crest. Below the chilled vapors spill shyly across the dark valley floor to break silently against the massive stone legs of the colossus. Urgent activity has already begun in the lower tiers of the walking city. Thin plumes of smoke twist and clot, like curds in the air. At their source pigeons huddle for warmth, perched upon the thousands of tin cylinders that perforate the stony flank of the walking city. Delicious scents waft from some. Not all are so enticing. Beneath the Catigatti tower, in the infamous Bone Kitchen, bonded shaivs prepare to feed hundreds of slave laborers. A pungent fungus stew boils and spits in cauldrons large enough to boil ten men. Countless furnaces, even famed dwarven forges, belch blistering ash from vents drilled ages ago through the living rock.
Gibbering gnomes, clad in their flickering figments and bright rags, rush to their hard labor in the sublevel workshops of the noble's towers. They cross paths with the wood crowned bonded, likewise bustling to the whim of the exalted families. Unbonded shaivs slink from tiny sublevel hovels to market and back, never to lay foot in the pristine halls of the upper tier. They praise each day nonetheless. Each day on the colossus, by hook or crook, is another day you've stayed death. Fabian Rosetto, a dark olive skinned snarl of a man, knows well the alternative.
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Post by imp on May 31, 2013 4:02:34 GMT -8
"The Wylds will be your death." his breath, visible in the cool morning air, drifts beyond the railing atop the guild's tower. "Arctorious, haughty name for a wretch, you religious?" He sneers "I don't care. Sounds like a Kavalnic alter boys name though. You've clawed you way out of the Crawl Space and made a decent man of yourself. That's a feat few could dream of accomplishing. Good for you. You're now just valuable enough to be spent." He spits crudely over the side, lashing his chin with a wet strand. He grimaces and quickly sweeps away the spittle with the back of his black leather clad fist. Casting a dark glance at his new charge he mutters "You'll see Sheul soon enough. We all will.
A huge new bundle of contracts have been opened for a dig in old Bisseth. It will be all hands down there. All the climbers, including the greens. Even you and that druid with the furry monster she calls a pet." Fabian takes out a flask and drains it. "Won't be *COUGH* -won't be just us neither. The Rod and Cup is sending a young bolt thrower, some noble house has hired a pack of vendetta blades, and even the Warholm is sending a small party. Whatever is down there is hot. That's always a clear indication, guilder blood will be spilled by the barrel full." He casually tosses the flask over the railing and turns to the stairwell "So say your prayers and pack your wares kid. The barge drops in two quakes. Adakan pier three."
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Post by imp on May 31, 2013 4:03:30 GMT -8
In the distance two figures stand in the sky itself - at the very end of one of the patchwork piers that crown the decrepit Adakan Tower, hindmost of the walking city's many massive structures. A scruffy human, Carlo Ferro, smiles warmly, but scrunches an eye betraying his curiosity. “Rifain is it? Aren't you one of those sharpers we just pulled up recently? Half-orc, that's pretty rare on the walkin' rock. Real far north too. I gather your band had been on the run for several years.” He shakes his head grimly “No kind of childhood. Growing up in the wyld. You're lucky you were raised by sharpers and not the wyld elves. Feed you until you're plump, cook you up and eat you.” He adjusts the straps on one of the packs at his feet and shoots a glance down the pier towards the counselor, cloaked tiefling and the glistening oiled chest of the other half-orc. "You fell in with those awful fast. I guess that earned you a circlet sooner than applying to the guild would have." He flashes his charming smile again "Now that you're officially a citizen there's plenty of time to become a full guilder. I'll sponsor you mysel-" Seeing her look over his shoulder in awe he turns to appraise the view. The curved blue back of a tan bellied beast arcs gracefully midair and proceeds to swim effortlessly along the glowing edge of the distant cloud bank. “It's an aerwhal. There are several just above the leading edge of that low arcus, if you squint into the sunrise.” He grins, amused at the half-orc's confusion. “They follow the colossus in herds. While it wades through the wyld, they dance up above.”
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Post by imp on May 31, 2013 4:03:57 GMT -8
At the end of the pier, counselor Draven Trumaris leans on a broken stone wall, staring out over the wylds and the scar like wake of the colossus. After some contemplation he replies to the tiefling's question, “Even the dwarves, yes.” The counselor adjusts his lapel, shivering involuntarily in the cold. “They will drop like flies Lucian, I expect you to endure. I've given you two guardians. Granted the sharper is new to the city, but she will have an innate survival sense in the wyld. This fine fejagir trainee, well he's insurance against the inevitable wyld elf attack. Yes, they are orcs, I trust that will not be an issue. Spend them wisely. Bring me everything found that relates to the old gods. Our contract with the guild, although still needing to be finalized, should offer us exclusive rights.” He shakes his head, red eyes twinkling. "They have no idea what lies below."
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Post by imp on May 31, 2013 4:04:20 GMT -8
Carlo tosses the last of several climbing kits into a tethered air barge, causing it to gently sway beneath them. “Some say they're sirens, and claim that those who've bounced were called off the rock in darkness to the haunting sounds of their voices.” He hooks his right foot round one of the thick hemp lines and slides out into nothing- down to the barge's deck below. “Mostly the halflings with that vade. Covering for how often they stagger drunkly over the side. The Feyid claim that they mimic the triumphant arias in the epic Song of Araeshi."
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Post by Arctorious Thunderhammer on May 31, 2013 14:12:49 GMT -8
Arctorious turns as Fabian begins to walk away. What's our stake in this job? If I'm to put my life on the line for whatever's down there, what's the percentage? What's the bonus situation look like? With a smirk, Arctorious continues; Please, tell me it's not coming back from those stinking depths just to be greeted by your liquor soaked breath, Fabian!
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Post by imp on May 31, 2013 14:24:11 GMT -8
"If. If you live." Fabian says turning from the first step down, "You'll be paid same as a logistics crew for a Delver's party. 2 crown royals on drop and 4 percent of all non-contracted haul." Turning back to his descent he adds over his shoulder, "The guild provides you with a room in this tower and that wooden circlet on your head that lets you come and go on the upper tier as a freeman. Don't forget that benefit- and your oath to the guild." He staggers a bit on the stairs, mumbling prayers to himself.
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Post by Lucian Bok on May 31, 2013 14:37:27 GMT -8
To Draven Trumaris
"Sometimes a blunt tool is the most useful. What more can you tell me of the green ones? More importantly, what can you tell me of my destination?" |
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Post by Arctorious Thunderhammer on May 31, 2013 14:44:07 GMT -8
Arctorious shouts back as Fabian stumbles along his path with a wry smile; Don't get to intoxicated, my friend! Wouldn't want something awful to happen to you in the wee hours! These railings get slippery from the morning dew! And with that, Arctorious takes the opposing stairs to go and find Dairmida to tell her the news of the contracts.
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Post by imp on Jun 2, 2013 0:00:20 GMT -8
Begun a jig whistling
A lone faerie darting
Tween the long sweetest
Grasses of the glen
The jig in turn was passed along
T'was sung by all clever faeries
Whenever they ventured bravely
To the neighboring wooded dells
When Ghen's foul goblins struck
The faeries they congregated
Harmonized with that fair melody
Around the great flat rock
The song was song on high hill top
Dozens raised their voices
Together the chorus became one true
A song named Urindel
The overtones begin to shake the dark columns of the Vault of Heaven. An azure spark spirals into existence upon the center floor. Woven from head to toe of light and music, the blue pulsating apparition of High Lord Osoyariel Ilkyardim becomes corporeal. He looks up to the many choruses above him, each in its own section of the vaulted copper dome.
"The time has come for this song to be sung again." High Lord Osoyariel declares "We have need of it's skills."
A second form, slick in mirrored skin appears in a cascade of shimmering light before Osoyariel. "This one has failed me before." The High Lady Annabyrron of the Mere says tunelessly.
"Aescension will be upon us soon. Recovery of the emperor's flesh will ensure our escape. We haven't the power to send many. This one is an infamous thief, or will be, once he has remembered." Osoyariel replies loudly.
"Perhaps he won't remember his petulance." The Lady purrs.
The choruses sing the song of Urindel gloriously and a dozen faeries leap forth from the chorus of Larrui, as if compelled. Each takes the melody alone, and then the twelve together descend to the floor of the vault, enraptured by their song. Urindel rises, unified once more. Wood elves rush from the wings and robe him.
Osoyariel's grand tenor cuts into the melody "Feyid of the Harmonium, Urindel. You are charged with the recovery of the body of the aescendant, Emperor Alodantriel. You will be escorted to your vehicle and your companions forthwith. Be warned. In the catacombs below, the Contandari will still guard him."
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Post by imp on Jun 2, 2013 0:48:46 GMT -8
To Lucian, Draven replies "Your instructor in the arcane guild, Faustino Illuminato, the Skull- as they call him in the courts. He knew the whereabouts of one of the most prodigious elf slayers of the presumed defunct Fey Jaeger brotherhood. This dark monk, once known as the Black Wolf has been persuaded to train warriors from his prison. We are resurrecting the brotherhood. Eventually the Black Wolf will be freed and sent to the other side." Draven looks over to Lastwall. "This one is our first success. Be sure to test his limits." Draven looks down the length of the pier "She on the other hand is just another sharper with a need for gold and a warm spot on the colossus. Put her between your self and any blades you encounter."
Draven pulls a small snuff box out of his doublet and taps it thoughtfully while looking into the wind. "Imperial maps of Bisseth show a trade post here. The Skull claims it was a cover for an archaeological project undertaken by the Nefarim Paternus sect of imperial wizards." Draven frowns and puts the tin away. "He ought to know." He looks at Lucian meaningfully "The imperials had uncovered a very large Alodantric dynasty structure. Giant machinery most of it. Who knows exactly what the elves were up to, but at the heart of it- two titans. Very well preserved. We're talking bodies of old gods, Lucian. You find them and help me get them to the surface and you're a rich man in a suite in Avernus for eternity." Draven stands away from the outer wall of the tower that he had been leaning on and looks to collect himself to leave "Any other questions? I'm cold and I hate the sunlight."
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Post by imp on Jun 2, 2013 1:18:19 GMT -8
Below the stone back of the colossus in the longhall of the Warholm, Rorin Umucan has a drink with Mrin Vallahir Umucan. "You love the sunlight, that's why you were chosen." the Runemaster deadpans over his ale mug "Listen, pup, Your uncle knows ah- what he's doing sending you along. You've a fine head about you, and you're not half bad with that lovely axe of yours." He grins through his foam flecked beard. "Where'd you have that made? Did she sing under the hammer of the finest smith left in this cursed world? How lucky are you, lad, to have such a legend of a man make time for your smooth chinned demands?" Rorin bellows long guffaws at his own jest. "Only kidding lad, that's the cheapest axe I've ever seen. When you've come back with something to show I'll get you a proper masterwork axe for your troubles."
He chuckles to himself while draining the rest of his drink and then takes a more serious tone. "Your uncle, our Warlord Hafthir Umucan, in his wisdom, sends you, because there is strange word from the Guild scouts. There are signs of recent activity near an old mine they've uncovered. Dwarven activity they say. Don't know how they know, and don't know what they know, but the possibility that one of the other clans survived." Rorin shakes his head in wonder. "That's why he's sending you. It is important, and he loves ya, and trusts ya." Rorin slaps Mrin on the cheek. "So drink up your breakfast and get to the air barges, pup!"
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Post by imp on Jun 2, 2013 1:37:34 GMT -8
In a cherry wood paneled room on the fourth floor of the Gatherer's Guild, Lucio Rossi, goes over a well stocked pack a second time. "Your party leader will have a climbing kit if you don't. Don't rely on him if you don't have to." Lucio looks up at Dairmida with a concerned frown. "Don't touch the trees. I know you know already. I am just saying don't touch the trees. The wyld elves serve the trees. They are born out of them. I've seen it." He tightens the straps for a third time. "Stay close to the party at all times. Let the scouts and trap finders lead. Don't let Devorar stray-" He blushes and rubs his head. "You know all this. I'm sorry. I'll be down there. Find me when you have a moment. Fabian- Look he knows what he's doing. He saves more lives than-" Lucio looks at the door. "Alright give the old man a hug and be on your way. Carlo will have the barges ready to drop in a quake. Be on time!" He turns and leaves Dairmida's room looking back with a small proud smile. "Good luck."
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Post by Dairmida on Jun 2, 2013 13:40:19 GMT -8
Lucio starts to turn back to the door when Dairmida calls him. "Lolo!" It's a private name between them, the name she has called him since she was 2. He faces her once more and she crosses the room in two uncultivated bounds and throws her arms around him. Devorar, like a shadow, winds his way around them, rubbing his jaw against Lucio's thigh. "I'll be safe. And don't worry, I wont...I won't DO anything." Her eyes meet his and they share an old understanding. Whether she is lying to him or not she can't be entirely certain. "But promise you'll take care of yourself. Other than Devorar, you're all I have." She squeezes him one last time and returns to her pack.
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Post by imp on Jun 2, 2013 15:14:46 GMT -8
Among the broad leaves of the great tree in a branch near Tower Adakan, three elven figures crouch and watch. Odessa turns to her step brother, Lyeas Essyorm "This might get a bit tricky for you. As far as the Guild is concerned you are an agent representing the Vasinette, however we have been offered twice as much by the Mezzanotte to break that contract and deliver the goods to them. I will be here top side, concluding business with our Vasinette contact, you have to take care of matters down below." Odessa turns to Kiara "I know it's strange not having father set up these deals. It's hard on all of us without him, but we have to carry on. He didn't want you involved in matters like this, but the skills you have gained from that strange old monk and the scales faith can be of a huge benefit below." She touches Kiara's shoulder "Keep Lyeas out of trouble, you know his Shivara blood makes him a hothead." She winks at Lyeas. "And Lyeas, don't let her fey lead her out into the deep wylds." The luminous yet translucent sprites hovering around Kiara's shoulders stick their toungues out at Odessa in unison.
Odessa stands and backs down the branch with grace and ease. "Ok, make your way to the air barges. Remember, you're Vasinette agents. Until you're back on the rock anyway. Godspeed."
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