"He's been places in his time - and seen things that would make your heart stop."

Sever found himself recounting the words of his current employer. He didn't like him much. A brash and arrogant official of the royal court, he'd summoned the thief to one of the classier taverns of the city to regale him with a tale of riches and adventure. Trouble was, he was too good a storyteller. Three weeks into his job and Sever still knew less about what he was supposed to be stealing than he had before the meeting. But, certainly at that time, his interest had been piqued. Must've been the wine.

Sever sat now on the roof of one of the larger houses in town, hidden in the vee to escape the cool midnight chill. He'd completed his routine scouting lap of the town and found it not altogether beyond his liking. Small, but with all the nice little nooks and crannies that make a thief's job easier.

"Vindson the Smith and Simon Locke. They're not your mark, but you can bet that they know him. Simon's one half of the powers that be in Lockesville. Go figure. You don't want to meet him, however, unless things get slow. He has a way with words too - not unlike yourself, so i hear. But his words stem from the workings of an intelligent mind. Not from the ability to smile, laugh and giggle like a choir girl."

Bite me.

If he could have that meeting again, Sever would have replaced his mental comment with something suitably harsher. He really didn't like that court clown. But now more than ever, he wished that he'd pressed his employer for more details on what his job actually was. The more he thought about it, the more he knew that his employer didn't have a clue. He'd simply heard a rumour and decided to send a lackey to investigate. But, admittedly, he was quite knowledgeable about the town and its residents. And the advance gold sure was worth it.

Sever continued going over the details in his head as he readied himself for yet another rooftop kip. The smithy was definitely a must-stop. Even if he didn't break in, he figured it was time to buy some new stabs. The look of amusement that pompous court fool gave him when he saw his blade made that clear. And Hells, when exactly had he been to a new town without checking out the tav at some stage. Yes. Both were on the agenda for tomorrow. But that was play. More on the business.

"He has a secret, that fellow. Many, as rumour has it. And that's why you're getting this hefty start-up capital. Find out if there's truth there. Then bring it back. And don't you dare try to slip me."

Whatever, clown. "And where do i find this person?"

Sever's eyes closed as he recalled his employer's parting comment and subsequent laughter. He wouldn't have pictured the court officer as an evil person, but it's said that even the best of the worst can't hide the true intent in their laugh. It almost sent a chill down Sever's spine.

"The tavern, fool."

Maybe tomorrow wasn't all about play...

OOC>>At this stage, it is assumed that no one in town has seen or met Sever. His arrival is still unknown.

[ 12-08-2005, 08:21 AM: Message edited by: Sever ]

<font color=lime>Oley

The old man nodded at Vindson, "The map hints at a great treasure, if the new crop of adventurers can find it it'll certainly liven things up around here, the Locke's usually get much happier when adventuring coin is spread around town, and there's been precious little of that in years. It would be nice if the map gave some clues about guardians though... Oh well, you can't have everything you want right away, and if you do find someone to give it to, and they're clever, they'll find out for themselves before goin in swords swinging." He took another long pull, examined his cup realising it was empty, and started to get up.

"Sorry to be leaving, but I've a bit of work tomorrow, and I need to be able to see straight by noon." He then walked up to the bar and got several ceramic jars of a rather potent solvent normally used to remove rust, mildew, and dirt from hard to reach places in armor. With a bit of pickled egg, and some vinegar from the local apples it made a wonderful intoxicant, as well as being able to clean nearly any failed experiment off of his walls.</font>

OOC: at this point the whole table is practically covered in empty tankards, cups and bottles of various sizes and makes. (due to his long abuse of alcohol it's a better measure for the barkeep to tell when to cut him off than watching to see when he can't stand up)

[ 12-07-2005, 08:37 AM: Message edited by: Morgeruat ]

<font color=white>For Pandaros:

The old farmer finished his work up in the barn in about half an hour and then headed back towards the house. Once he reached it, went inside and within fifteen minutes more all lights within the house were put out.

Inside the barn, you hear livestock bedding down for the night. </font>

OOC>>>What you'll find are 12 stalls (two rows of six), each holding at least one cow. In all, there are 17 cows, including calves.

<font color=green>Vindson

Not long after Oley left, Vindson himself stood up. Before leaving the tavern he walked to where Kasimno was seated.

"I was planning to start work early tomorrow, so you can come anytime after sunrise if you want to help."

Vindson left the tavern and walked towards his home. He went past the building he knew so well, and continued until the temple, which was just behind his own home.

Ever since he had been a peasant who had nothing, Vindson had been a believer in Demeter, and it was her he thanked for everything he had managed to achieve. After a brief prayer he returned home, where before going to sleep he was going to give the map, Oley had given him, a more thorough examination.</font>

<font color=gold>Vallo
He was led to an office by a silent attendant. A mutter of thanks, and then an "about time" under his breath was all he had to say. Edward Locke was sat in a chair when Vallo walked in.

"Mr. Locke," He started, "I just wanted to see you about the incident that happened with me and a medic in the medic building. I don't know if you have been told about it yet. Word usually travels quickly here."</font color>

<font color = "#66CC00">

Pandaros

Pandaros waited until the lights in the house were darkened before moving towards the barn. As quietly as possible he snuck inside, then surveyed the barn as best he could without a light. He crept along the stalls until he found one occupied by a lone cow.

"I hope they don't bite," he thought as he slipped into the stall. He pushed a pile of hay into the corner and lay on it, his bow, quiver and sword all ready beside him. He took a gulp of liquor from his flask and then returned it to it's hiding place as he considered his plan for the next morning. Soon the noises of the animals blended together into a lullaby that rocked him to sleep.

</font>

<font color=white>Elsewhere - The Forest</font>

<font color=thistle>Food. Be it the devouring of light by darkness or the swallowing up of life by death, be it a disembodied extra-planar Hunger spliced into the very soil of these forums, appetite and eating – the seizing of that which is to be consumed - has driven this game as much as, if not moreso than, the plotting of Shadow and the travails of a certain former ranger. Be it consuming ambition or consuming anger or be it simply hatred that devours without ever ceasing to hate, hungers of diverse and unrelenting kinds have swept lives up in their movement, lives that have all too often been devoured, swallowed up and forever lost to the strength of appetite. The devouring within this game is no merely metaphorical thing, no mere turn of phrase, for heroes and dragons and even the power of the ancient Ring of the original threads have quite literally found themselves within the mouths of enemies whose ravenous hunger consumed not merely body, but living spirit as well.

Food for worms. Such, those of grim and cynical bent would say, is the common lot of all. Would that the fallen of this game were so lucky as that! For they have fallen as food for far worse than worms.

Appetites, of course, are generally not so cosmic in their scope as all of this. But appetite is a common , even fundamental, aspect of the workings of the world. And the appetite that asserts itself this night is no world-threatening hunger of the grave to feast upon the living. It is simply the nagging pangs of a stomach that finds itself empty. Food is required and food must be found. A basic rule, one that is easily mastered and understood. Powerful limbs stretch and prepare themselves for movement. The hunger is real and although it be not grand in its scope being simply the product of an empty stomach, it is not for that fact any less deadly nor less ultimate in regards to its goal. Food is required and food must be found. And when food is found, but one thing remains – to take hold of it and devour.</font>

<font color=cyan>Kasimno

"... I doubt it" As soon as that thought was over Vindson came over to him and told him he would start early tomorrow "As always. I don't know how that guy manages it..." "Alright I'll be around first thing," he was excited about tomorrow, and he hoped everything went well. This wasn't his first time helping him, but this time felt different for some reason, special in a way.</font>

<font color=indianred>Simon Locke

It was closing time for business, though the world of business never wanted to be closed on. Still, Simon had to shut the door on those pending issues until tomorrow, bright and early. He had just received his brother's message and correction to his ruling concerning the pervert, and logged it for future cases. After the administrative secretary clocked out, Simon grabbed up his papers and headed down the hallway that led out of this section of the manor and into the residential area, where the Lockes had their home. The hallways were long and the footsteps on hardwoord flooring would have echoed chaotically from the walls if not for the tapestries covering them. Life as a Locke was luxurious, yes, but also called for a lifetime of servitude to the welfare of the town. It was the birthright of the Lockes to see to their town's prosperity, and the news that had come in today was most troubling. It had happened again. They could not keep this quiet any longer if something were not done. Hopefully, Durston Shacal was just the man to see to the issue. </font>

[ 12-08-2005, 12:40 AM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

<font color=white>Edward Locke</font>

<font color=cornflowerblue>His gaze is one of calm appraisal, betraying neither approval nor disdain for the man seated before him. He takes his time in responding to the opening in the conversation – for words are not things to be chosen hastily and one might learn much in silence. When he does speak, his tone is calm and measured and his words carefully chosen. “I hear very much. That is true – even some things about this incident to which you refer. What I have not heard, however, is what you would like to say regarding the matter.”</font>