Overlooking the harbor, Merri received disquieting news. There was trouble in the waterworks. Something mysterious was going on. Now Merri was as a good a rogue as any, but even she was a bit suspicious. It seems that people were being kidnapped for no reason whatsoever.  And the promise of good loot ....Well what more could be said of a good adventure.  All she needed was the guildmistress and to plan their adventure and off they would go.  With excitement, she went in search of her guildmistress.....

This topic was moved from forum Thelanis Server Public Forum to forum Official FotGN Public ROLE_PLAY Forum on 8/17/2006 4:28 PM by MasonJar4.

Merri was a bit troubled.  They were sitting Blayze and herself at the Rusty Nail tavern drinking ale when they heard the rumors afoot from the fighters coming from the marketplace.  Now Merri had searched the waterworks from top to bottom with no inkling about what Blayze was getting all upset about, but she was upset.  But then Merri did not always see what her betters saw.

     Blayze was cut from a different cloth. A cousin of Sorenna, Blayze Thundaar was a elf who knew her noble birthright and dragonmark.  Unlike Sorenna, Blayze was not ostracized by her family but embraced for her ability to foresee events in their favor. When Blayze became of elven age, she decided to become a mage who could heal and attended the local school in her area, before making her way to Stormreach. If truth be told, if she hadn't run into Merri though, she would not have made it.

     Now Blayze had heard rumors of obvious clues in the waterworks that led into the marketplace. It was important that the guild searched waterworks again with this in mind and then followed the clues. Her mind swirled with all the details that would need to be worked out. It was overwhelming for her young mind.
Technically, to the main guild she and Merri were not Full accepted members.
Not part of a council. The guildmistress nor her captain, nor her mentor were neither aware nor had accepted this.
The guild were not active in this yet.
Plans would have to be made. Rules drawn.
Allies would need to be contacted.

Sighing...she was too young for this. She drank some ale and said to Merri, maybe this could wait for another day.....as she spotted some her guildmates enter the tavern.

Ruetger is his name, a name handed down to him from his elders, a name said to be in the family for generations. He though, had tried over his years, his growing years, to be his own man. It's only a name after all is what he thought, and it happens to be his. He is not like the one's before him....He will not fail and fall as they had  in the tasks that lay ahead, those that are still unknown to him.

Ever since his arrival to Stormreach, he's heard rumors, he's met some folks, and made some friends of a few of them. But what he hadn't done was to make himself more known to his newer guildmates. He'd not seen anyone yet, oh yes, he'd heard mention of them from the barkeep. They had said the one's he sought have been through, but it was days ago. Who knows where they have gone to now?

Having done some work for a character he found quite taken with, a man he thought not too unlike himself, he called himself ... Goodblade, yes, Lord Gerald Goodblade, that was it! He now heads into the Wavecrest to a hot meal and some rest. With the word of this Goodblade he was sure now to have access to the city proper, but that will wait till tomorrow.

Ruetger opens the door to the Wavecrest and as the dim light of the tavern hits his eyes, it causes him to blink a few times to adjust to the lighting. He scans over the patron's faces for one's he knows, be them friends or better yet guildmates.

As the ship passes into the Harbor, Rathorr d'Orien looks on his new home.  He makes a small pray 'Please, give me strength and wisdom to the help the needy and fight the evils of this land.'

AS the ship travel through the harbor water his excitement raises.  He is finally a Templar of the chruch of the Silver Flame.

Rathorr watches some sailors hustle over the port side of the ship to help with the docking of the ship.

He feels he is lucky to be assigned this reign of the world.  Maybe, It was not luck...Maybe it was his father pulling string for him... Maybe not...  Does it matter.  He has dreamed of coming to Xen'drik for years and now he is here.

The smells, the sounds and the images are all burned into Rathorr's memory as the steps on the pier of his new home.

 

From the shadows slipped the form of a female human. Her shoulder length hair bounced as she peered left then right. Her emerald eyes could charm even the fiercest dragon, or melt the heart of ice elemental. She was danger, and she was seduction, A rose and its thorns.

From behind her within the depths and shadows of the darkened alley way came deep, and raunchy laughter.

”Eh dere, wench. What brings such a lass into the alleys of the black daggers?”

”Oh, I am truly sorry sir, I was just looking to get to the market. I need some milk for me, baby sire.” came a small precious voice of just a lowly maiden from the forest green to dark grey cloak.

With that the feminine for stepped to the middle of the alley and made for the exit. Only then did a small cry come from her lips as two booming very ragged, but sturdy warforged step around the corner one carrying a sword that was as tall as the woman, and one a great axe just the same.

”No! Please. I just want some milk for me baby.. Please don’t!” the maiden’s voice pleaded.

”Oh come now, lass. No need for such a fuss. We just wanna have a lil fun whicha.”

”Please! Please… Please don’t make me do this.” the woman’s voice filled with a wonderful fake horror.

”ha ha ha, and what would that be?” bellowed the big burly thief.

”This!” Suddenly the woman’s voice was no longer small, it was instead dark, dangerous, and lovely all in one.

As the woman’s cloak bellowed out she twirled, and from underneath the bellowing cloak came an ornate composite bow, and set was an arrow.

”OH!” cried the thief.

The woman fired, and the arrow erupted into flame, heading straight for the man’s face.

”Blimey!”

The arrow dug deep into the man’s face and the everyone watched as he feel to the ground.

Everyone turned back to the woman in dismay, and she fired again, taking down yet another thief. From her right cried a man as he lept at her with dagger in hand. Another shot and flame carried the man back against the wall.

From her left came another with two blades, twirling with the man’s attack she slipped right beside the man’s attack and whip another arrow from the quiver on her hip. As the man tried to slow himself to keep from hitting the way, he cried out in pain as a flame arrow pinned him to the wall.

Twirling to the sound of a man crying with rage the dark woman slipped to the right using her bow to guide the man’s attack away from her. As he turned to look at her, he felt the bow string behind his head. Looking into the woman’s emerald eyes there was a dark smirk on her face.

”Say Good Night.” replied the woman.

”Goodnight?” asked the man, then she let go of the bow and watched as it snapped back into the man’s face, and watched as he toppled to the ground.

At that moment the two warforged charged forward with a roar only barbarians might give. Whirling back around the metal against metal sound of swords leaving their sheaths could be heard, and two very sharp shortswords emerged from under the woman’s cloak.

As the first with the great axe swung his weapon down to cleave her in half, she slipped to the construct’s side, and in a whirl of motion left the Warforged howling in pain, as oil spew from its side. Rolling on the ground passed it, the second with the greatsword swung at her, but her roll carried her safely underneath the blade.

Rolling up to her feet she launched a barrage upon the surprised construct and watched in an almost sickly amused smirk as hit after hit evaded the Warforged’s block only to chip away wood, or slashed metal.

Completely distraught now the warforged fell back giving as much ground as it could, but it still wasn’t enough. It was dying and dying fast, with a whimper, then a groan the other Warforged lunged at swordswoman, but as it did, she whirled around, and slipped to the side evading the attack coming at her, and both combatants stopped moving as a gasp and grunt escaped the construct’s lips.

Looking down it watched in disbelief as black oil now run down its belly to pool on the ground. Spinning to the side, the woman let go of her blade and watched as it finish impaling completely through the warforged’s body as it landed on the ground.

Something caught her eye, behind her, but she knew what it was just as soon as she noticed it. At that moment her attention was drawn back to the warforged now standing tall infront of her.

Seemingly unphased it let loose a roar, that shook the alley way, and found its way coursing through the dark woman. It was a pure roar of rage. With a long swipe, the woman rolled backwards, almost throwing herself into it, as she just missed from having herself split in half. Again she rolled, and again, and one more time she tumbled away from the raging machine losing her other blade in the process, but as she rolled up she took hold of her bow as she launched herself back up to her feet.

Charging her like a Minotaur berserker the woman wisped two arrows from her side and fired them off just as soon as they touched her bow it seemed. Both planting themselves into each of its shoulders. Another step from the Warforged, and she had two more ready. Firing she took a seconds comfort as one planted itself into the lower thigh, just above its left knee. The flaming arrows scorched the drone, sending searing pain through its body, but it still kept coming. She reached for two, but found only one more arrow left in her quiver.

With no time left she fired it off, and watched as it planted itself into the warforged’s mouth, with flame erupting from the back of its head, as the arrow’s head exited. Falling the warforged skidded to a stop just before the woman warrior.

”I’m not just some wench!” her voice rang with fury, and a bit of weariness.

”I am the beauty, and I am the thorn of a Rose. I am Geoana the Rose.” her voice was powerful, and rang out through out the alleyway.

”Too bad, you could not live to remember it.”

With that Geoana set to recovering her blades, cleaning them on the clothing of her fallen enemies.