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Post by Deleted on Oct 20, 2015 11:18:50 GMT
Sitting on his own under the shade of a tall oak tree, the lonesome Shaman had just gotten back from a rather troublesome questgiver; a merchant - as they were want to call themselves, though they did not really acquaint themselves with selling anything directly - had requested aid with a personal matter, giving very little details as to what the matter pertained to. All he had explained in the parchment on the notice board was that he was in need of a skilled adventurer, but only one... A rather ambiguous quest, evidenced by the fact it had been up since morning, and by the time Dorian had arrived to find it - at noon - it was still there. Deciding he needed the work, the Shaman had snagged the paper off of the board, storing the address in his memory as he folded the quest away into his bag. If anything, it may prove fruitful for him; if it turned out to be hocus pocus, he was always free to decline.
The address on the paper had put the quest giver in a lavish home in the heart of Londinium, a rather small yet richly decorated abode that obviously held it's owner to a high regard. Nobility, perhaps? Intriguing... Despite Skrowe's valid first assumption, Dorian remembered that the People of the Land had explained that they were without a class of nobility in the usual sense. But, then, Dorian had met that odd noble during his escapade with the Messier Order some time ago, so anything was possible. Releasing a tentative sigh, the Shaman pushed on toward the front door, lifting his hand up to grab at the door knocker and swing it gently against the wooden entry, causing three successive clonks as metal collided with oak. There was nothing but silence after that, and the bustled sounds of the crowds of people nearby, moving along the busy streets. After a few short minutes, Dorian reluctantly reached out to use the knocker again, only to stifle a gasp in surprise as the door was swung open.
"Aha! You mutht be here for my quetht!" The rather robust man that greeted him at the door threw his arms out happily, his excitement clear in the large stomach that wobbled underneath his clothes; Dorian made sure to note down that this man may be a potential customer should he ever get around to setting up his cooking shop. Before the Shaman could reply, he felt the tight, iron grip of the man's fattened fingers cling to his wrist, pulling him in through the entryway and into the man's house. "Please, come in!" As he was almost thrown into the establishment, the first thing that hit him was the smell, the heavy stench of rich perfume permeating the air, which still didn't manage to cloak the sweat-riddled musk that underlined it. Resisting the urge to puke, he turned to the obese man who had just now slammed the door closed, locking it shut. Uh... I think we may have bitten off more than we can chew with this one. Skrowe was correct on that account, at least it seemed so. Silently swallowing, Dorian stepped to one side, giving the man room to walk past him into the house, before following behind.
"I mutht apologithe for that, you never know who ith lithening, hm?" The man shook his head, the rolls under his neck wobbling slightly. "Come, come, have a theat, we have much to dithcuth." Gesturing to a long cushioned sofa, the man sat himself down in a large armchair, the sound of it creaking under his weight breaking the silence for a few seconds. Following his offer, the Shaman shifted to sit on the couch pointed out to him, placing himself on the edge of the cushions so as not to sink into the perfumed stench that radiated from the fabric. "So... you asked for a skilled adventurer; your quest was rather ambiguous, but you referred to it as a personal matter?" The man chuckled under his breath, bobbing his head in a nod. "Yeth, I thuppothe it ith. Here, let me explain my dilemma."
"My name ith Franoth Carp, a merchant noble... well, technically not a noble, but with no ruling clath, we're the highetht authority within the People of the Land..." He proceeded to yammer on about how he had come into power as a noble of the merchant class, no doubt a topic of conversation that he relished in talking about. Dorian was beginning to realise the other reason nobody accepted such a quest as this, when Franoth... no, Franos... finally managed to get to his point. "Tho, the day came when I began thpreading out my buthineth; but, lo and behold! My thupplieth are being thwept out from under my feet, thnatched away before I can even thtock them in any of my thtoreth!" Throwing his arms out in shock, he shook his head wildly, his features drooping in a look of disgust. "Tho, now I am thtuck wondering who could have known about the locationth and transport routeth of my thupplieth through the city! And that, my fine adventurer friend, is where you come in."
Dorian sat up quickly at the mention of his involvement, finally getting to the actual reason he had come to this smelly house; he would be lying if he said he hadn't dozed off a bit for a moment there. "Ah, yes... Go on..." He made a half-arsed gesture for the noble to continue. "Very good. You thee, I'm holding a thoirée thith evening, and I have an invitation for you to attend; I have altho invited all of the memberth of the merchant nobility, as they're the only one'th who could be the culprit. I need you to thuth out the competition, and find the one who hath been thtealing my goodth with their thneaky thieving wayth." Dorian blinked a few times, looking towards the front door. A spy quest? He wasn't cut out for something like this... But then, he had taken the offer off the board... Groaning out of irritation, he reluctantly nodded, holding his hand up. "I'll do it, but I'm afraid I don't have anything... classy, to wear."
He wished he hadn't have brought that up; now, as he sat under the shade of his tree, he attempted to avoid the memory of the various outfits he had been forced into, before Lord Carp had finally settled on a simple, yet delicate tuxedo. Though he had gone on about how handsome the young Adventurer looked in it, Dorian just felt liked he was wearing something above his salary. Now, flicking through his inventory in his interface, he hovered over the item listed tuxedo; he had to remember to give it back once the quest was done... That is, if he could even pull it off. Lounging in the shade for the next few hours, he practised some dance moves while he waited for the sun to drop to just above the horizon, before picking himself up and heading to the location designated on the invitation.
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Post by Deleted on Oct 21, 2015 10:54:10 GMT
"Just breath... No need to panic... You're just walking into a heated party of noble merchant types, with a secret hidden agenda to oust one of them as a thief... No pressure!" Dorian continued to pace in front of the gate that marked the first entrance to the lavish estate where the invitation's address had taken him. By the time he had arrived and swapped himself into his suit, the sun had dipped low enough to only be peeking over the top of the horizon, the spray of colours lighting up the sky with various oranges and pinks and yellows. Releasing a soft sigh, the Shaman glanced down at his own appearance, the flashy tuxedo fitting his form comfortably. He had neglected to carry in weapons, something Lord Carp recommended when giving him the invitation; of course, it was customary to come to a soirée unarmed, but the merchant must have seen him as a mere Adventurer, inept in the ways of nobility. You should have brought cheesecake. Damn it, he should have brought cheesecake.
Finally mustering his courage, Dorian pushed on the hinge of the iron gate, being careful not to scratch himself on it as he pushed his way through, closing it behind him. Stepping forward, he began following the path, a gravelled out walkway that split out into three prongs; the centre one moved toward the front of the manor, whereas the side ones split to stretch around the estate, obviously directing toward the backyard. Following the path as instructed on the invitation in his hands, Dorian kept on forward, climbing the small flight of steps up onto the front porch and nearing the double door; an intricately carved wooden entrance that signified this was no ordinary manor, but one for the higher class. This quest better be worth it. Skrowe may be irritating, but he often shared the Shaman's sentiment toward being used unfairly.
Holding his invitation in one hand, he lifted the other tentatively to gently rasp upon the heavy oak of the door, the sound echoing out across the other side. There was a few moments of silence - highly awkward silence - before sounds of rustling were heard as Lord Carp rushed down to the door, whisking it open with a stubby fat hand. "Ah, welcome! You are late, my thilly friend." As the first time they met, he yanked upon his wrist, throwing him into the manor entryway. "Now, come come, follow me; we'll get to the party and I'll introduthe you to thome of the guethtth that have already arrived," the robust merchant declared, hastily gesturing for Dorian to follow as he hurriedly moved to the door at the back. Quickly picking up the pace to catch up to the surprisingly fast man, the Shaman moved to open the door for him, both of them sharing approving bows of the head before they both exited out onto the incredibly spacious back patio.
The patio was a rectangular setup, a concrete lifted area with various tables strewn about the edges, each of them fitting 4 or 5 guests. Counting up the chairs, Dorian summarised that there would be at a maximum perhaps around 30 guests, though perhaps not all of them would be merchant nobility, such as those like himself; it was not uncommon for nobles to hire Adventurer bodyguards from time to time, and no doubt that is how Lord Carp was intending to play off the Adventurer being at the party. The centre of the patio had been cleared out for enough space to make a dancing area, with one of the corners cleared and decorated, the instruments piled there already being manned by a rather well played band. Looking over them, he spotted a few Bard Adventurers that he didn't recognise at all, but most of the band were Landers.
Following Lord Carp, the two of them sat down on one of the corner tables, opposite the band, no doubt to have a better vantage point of the entire party. Settling into his seat, the Shaman finally took the time to note the other guests; as Lord Carp helpfully began pointing and identifying them, Dorian easily set names to faces as he went. "The tall one there ith Lord Briarwell, an ethtablithed thalethman along the coast; that there ith Lady Farnuthia... And here we have Doctor Cormicle, infamouth Lander thientitht..." As the seconds ticked by, and more people started moving into the party area, joining the various groups of conversations that had started up, Lord Carp easily prattled off name after name, skipping over the guests that were either +1s, assistants to the merchants, or just Adventurer bodyguards. "Not good enough to be named," as the Lord had put it, forcing Dorian to hide his more disgruntled look of disgust at the treatment of his fellows in arms.
Hello... We may have a winner. Skrowe's comment brought the Shaman's attention to the last guest to arrive, a dashing noblewoman, embellished in a crimson gown that flowed naturally around her form. Dorian quickly rolled his eyes, the chibi scarecrow so easily smitten by someone he hadn't even been introduced to; but alas, the Shaman was forced to account for the lady, given his goal for the night. "Who would that be, Lord Carp?" The fat man had just finished yammering on about a new trade deal with a man seated opposite him, when he turned to Dorian, following his gaze towards the newcomer. "Ah, my dear boy, that would be Lady Ithlatha; a highly ethtablithhed and incredibly driven woman in the merchant trade. Thee'th a fine one, that thee ith." Skrowe wasn't the only one smitten it would seem; of course, Dorian was more distracted by the fact that, despite being in a conversation with another, Lady Islatha had her eyes pinned to the Shaman's own, as if singling him out, her cherry-tinted lips curled in an intimidating smile. Yowza.
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Post by Deleted on Oct 24, 2015 12:24:52 GMT
Eventually the party had begun in earnest, with all of the guests arriving, only a few seats at various tables having been left unattended. "Bloody thimpletonth, can't even bother to come to a party they're invited to!" As Lord Carp spouted nonsensical threats on the households of all the missing attendees, the rest of the guests seemed to ignore him, so Dorian did the same. He was more distracted, at the moment, his eyes idly scanning the party area for any clues as to his target. You don't have to keep calling them a target; you're just ratting them out. You aren't a hitman. The Shaman rolled his eyes, waving his hand dismissively; both at his own mind, and at the waiter that had just brought around a plate of snacks for people to grab at. He could smell the lack of taste from his seat; the perks of being trained in the art of cooking. But alas, his investigation was brought to a standstill when the seat next to him, opposite Lord Carp's seat, had been taken; it had remained vacant for the most part until a certain someone had snagged his attention.
"Are you enjoying the party so far, Master Dorian?" Blinking in surprise, his violet hues turned slowly in their sockets to spy the aforementioned Lady Islatha; her gown shifted in her lap slightly as she crossed one dainty leg over the other. Her head seemed to tilt slightly to one side as she enraptured his gaze with her own bright red orbs. "I hope the so-called nobility of the Landers here in Londinium have not been boring a... skilled Adventurer, such as yourself?" Dorian held back a blush that was surfacing on his cheeks, no thanks to Skrowe's enamoured gaze through the back of his head at the woman's figure. The Shaman kept his eyes on her features, squinting slightly as he studied them; even a Lander would know he was only a newcomer to the Adventurer game, still a level 1. Though he was making a solid effort to climb. Perhaps she had heard of his exploits with the Halloween monsters, or perhaps his quests with the Messier Order? For now, he would keep a scrutinising eye.
"It has been interesting so far, to say the least; I did not realise there were so many merchants in Londinium..." He gestured his head around to the rest of the guests, seated now at the various tables and striking up conversations with each other or with their escorts. "I was under the impression that there was no nobility in Londinium." Lady Islatha gave a delicate sigh from between her lips, nodding her head in understanding as she leaned back in her chair, her hands lightly resting atop one another in her lap. "We aren't really a nobility; truth be told, we aren't even united under any sort of common cause." She gave a chuckle, shaking her had at the preposterous notion. "We are merely merchants, banding together with our wealth to often times pick on the little man. We puff ourselves up as nobles, but it is just a name, and an informal one at that." She turned her head back to the Shaman, capturing his gaze once more.
Before he could retort, the band had picked up a rather elegant musical tune, the song slowly reaching out of their instruments to grace the air. Both he and the Lady sat beside him seemed to have been captured by the melody, her head swaying slightly as she extended one of her hands toward him. "Care to dance? You look like someone who could show these simple merchants a thing or two," she remarked, lacing her words with a subtle wink of her eyelids, before gracefully standing from her seat. He was still suspicious of this woman, but Dorian had no choice but to accept; after all, it was rude to decline a lady when she asked you to dance, no matter the occasion. Besides, he would have a better vantage point of the area on the dance floor. Reaching up to grasp at her hand, he lifted himself up onto his feet with his own finesse, leading her out onto the emptied dance floor. Turning with her as they reached the centre, he placed his free hand onto her waist, creating a delicate dance hold as they began to slowly waltz to the music.
Stepping slowly in the small square, he took the lead as any gentleman would, his eyes glancing every so often over the rest of the party; it seems as though their dancing was beginning to draw the eye of the other guests, especially the males who seemed to be as enamoured with Lady Islatha as Skrowe was. "You know, it's customary for a man to keep his eyes on his partner when dancing with her." The woman's silver tongue managed to draw his attention back to her, his eyes once again locked within her own as they continued to step out into a slightly large box waltz, taking up the centre of the dance floor. "My apologies; I just noticed the... attention... we were gathering around us." She seemed to smile at that, closing her eyes briefly to nod and glance over them herself. If he hadn't been focused on her features as a whole, he would not have noticed the playful smirk that graced her lips when she caught her eyes on Lord Carp. "That is... true."
His suspicions were rising with the tide of the dance, the very words that the Lady spoke incriminating her further and further as they moved through their motions. "You dance well, Master Dorian... But you mustn't overstep yourself when it comes to your footwork; wouldn't want to step on someone's toes, would you?" To anyone else - particularly Skrowe - this statement would merely be a warning of haste, the Lady worried for the sake of her toes. But under-laced within her silver tongue was a much more sinister warning. There was no doubt in Dorian's mind now. He had found his perpetrator. He just needed to get this information to Lord Carp. As the dance, and the music, came to an end, the two partners stepped away from one another; Dorian moving to bow, and Lady Islatha moving to curtsey. With a resounding applause from the rest of the party, the Shaman moved his head to look over at where he was seated... only to find that Lord Carp had disappeared. This was going to be a long night.
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Post by Deleted on Nov 4, 2015 11:47:22 GMT
Time froze in that brief moment as the two partners broke away from one another, a soft smirk curled upon Lady Islatha's lips that the Shaman managed to spot out of the corner of his eye. But his attention was focused, concentrated on the empty seat he had been staring at in the split moment he had departed from the dance. Lord Carp had vanished during the time he had spent dancing, and knowing the circumstances of his coming to the party, Dorian had a very good idea why. "She's up to something," he muttered under his breath, keeping his voice low so only himself and Skrowe could hear. Perhaps you're right... Be careful, big guy. Dorian gave a nod, seemingly towards nobody in particular, but the duo knew what it meant. The Shaman was in strategist mode, his mind racing as he began drawing up thoughts and ideas of what to do next. His feet had already begun taking him away from the centre of the area, off the dance floor and back to where he had been seated prior, the two seats beside his own where Lady Islatha and Lord Carp had been seated just as vacant.
Investigating closely, Dorian's hopes were dropped as he spotted no sign of a struggle or a speck of evidence to show what had happened to the lisped merchant noble, but he wasn't going to give up hope now. He had been hired for one thing and one thing only, to help this dishevelled Lord Carp with his theft problem. Easier said than done. Dejectedly lifting his eyes towards the manor, scanning the windows idly as he racked his brain for any sort of clue that he had missed, he spotted the familiar shadowed silhouette of the rotund man slowly lumbering his way up to the top floor. It would seem he had left of his own accord; releasing a sigh of relief, the Shaman turned to wander back towards the rear entrance of the building, weaving through the crowds of people that had gathered themselves on the dance floor. Eventually he found himself at the door, his hands grasping a hold of the handle and twisting it, using a gentle push to open it inwards, his light feet slipping him inside with only a smidgen of sound.
Once inside, the duo began making their way towards the staircase; rather hoping they weren't about to stumble into anything life threatening as Dorian began climbing the steps upwards, hand lightly resting upon the railing and brushing upwards against it, his form slowly rising through the interior of the building. "Why do they always have such tall, steep staircases?" Dorian's voice was kept at a low whisper, words muttered under his breath as he approached the top of the stairs, his feet lightly falling upon the polished stone floors. Eventually his vision was brought up, focusing intently on the nearby door that had been left slightly ajar. Suspicious, the Shikigami recognised, Dorian rolling his eyes at the chibi scarecrow's masterful ability of deduction. Resisting the urge to call him out on it, the Shaman moved forward quietly, approaching the open door and using a delicate guided push of his palm upon the wooden entryway, sliding it inward to open further. His eyes went wide, shock jolting into his system at the sight he had been graced with.
There, cowering against the far wall, was the large form of Lord Carp, his face plagued with fear. His overweight body was quivering with the terror that had taken him, his lips mumbling upon themselves as he was unable to bring any words to the air. Standing between the merchant and the Shaman, the source of the lord's fear, was a shadowed silhouette of a man, a cloaked and hooded figure that seemed to emanate a strong sense of hatred from his aura; welded to his hand was a finely crafted dagger, a shined blade that was raring to pierce into whatever meaty victim it could find. He's going to kill him! Act fast, big guy. The Shikigami rattled inside of Dorian's mind, urging him to do something to save his benefactor before something bad happened; without blinking, Dorian slipped forward with speed, bringing himself to stand in front of Lord Carp, just as the assailant made forward to stab. With a light swish of his hand, the Shaman deflected the blade, knocking the figure back away from it's prey.
The stand off began, the two able-bodied fighters standing their ground as they stared at one another, though without his weapon, Dorian felt defenceless. He needed some way of getting rid of this guy, but he had to be careful; if this 'assassin' was a Lander, he needed to do something that would avoid causing an upstart. Killing People of the Land was highly frowned upon, or so he imagined, but he wasn't about to just stand there doing nothing. Slipping his feet out, he pushed himself into a stance, deciding he was going to have to rely on his dancing to help him here; as silly as that sounded, it was the only way he was going to one up the assailant. And so, when the man lunged forward for another stab at the Lord, the Shaman looked over his shoulder briefly, giving the merchant a signal to step out of the way. Darting his attention back to the immediate thread, he slipped to one side, throwing his hands out to catch the figure and tug on his cloak, guiding his lunge past him.
With a resounding shove, he used the man's own momentum against him, slinging him straight past the lord and out the open window. With a tumbled gasp and a lot of crashing sounds, Dorian rushed to the sill, leaning over it to look out and spy the assailant collecting himself from the dust of the ground below. Releasing a sigh of relief, the Shaman turned back to Lord Carp, who proceeded to enrapture him in a back-breaking bear hug. "Thank you!" It seemed the man was a little lost for words, but that was to be expected; after all, he had just had his life threatened by a cloaked madman. Dorian gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to attempt to break free from his grasp; eventually, he was spared the agony of further pain, his body slipping down to the floor as he was released from the embrace. Stepping back towards the centre of the room, the Shaman let the merchant take a breather for a moment, before letting him in on his earlier discovery.
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Post by Deleted on Nov 5, 2015 13:23:08 GMT
Finally, the two of them sat down upon the bed in the merchant's room, Lord Carp having recuperated from the traumatic experience. "I think I know whose behind your troubles, Lord Carp," Dorian began, instantly grabbing his attention from his own breathing. Nodding his head, the Shaman continued, explaining how Lady Islatha had warned him of dabbling in the political world, and how suspicious her activity had been. Lord Carp merely nodded repeatedly with understanding, listening intently to every word that came out of the Shaman's mouth. When he had finished explaining his findings, he moved onto what had happened after. "That was when I came up here, finding you and... whoever that was." He gestured towards the open window, where he had just thrown out the assailant attempting to kill the merchant noble. Lord Carp looked to where he had gestured, before nodding once more. "Let uth return then; I will inthtruct my guardth to take mith Ithlatha into cuthtody, and we thall thee what wordth thee can come up with to try and perthuade uth of her innothenthe." With a bowed head of agreement, Dorian followed the Lord's lead, standing up from his seat and gesturing for the merchant to move forward; following close behind him. As they descended the stairs, a pair of guards appeared at the bottom, asking what had happened, as they had heard a commotion upstairs. Lord Carp explained what happened, before ordering the duo to move into the party area and apprehend Lady Islatha for questioning. "Yes sir!" The four of them headed out the back door, the two guards leading the charge as they exited towards the party; much to the surprise of all the other guests, the two guards suddenly split off, moving to Lady Islatha and informing her she was under arrest. At this point, Dorian's mind had trailed off, his interest slightly taken up by the fact that Islatha was completely calm and collected, not making a move to struggle or fight back against her captors. When Lord Carp asked if she had anything to say, she merely smirked at him, not bothering to give him eye contact. Instead, she merely stared at the Shaman stood beside him, a piercing gaze straight into his own violet orbs. "I am no more innocent than any of us here... I will not bother with pandering to your wishes for a confession, nor will I give futile attempts at proving my innocence. But be warned... you may want to be careful in the future." With that, the guards dragged her off, her form surprisingly still graceful, despite the situation she was in. The party eventually dissipated, and Dorian was whisked out of the estate hurriedly so as to leave Lord Carp to sort everything out and fix the mess. ***** With the party finished and matters attended to, Dorian was told to meet back up at Lord Carp's home, where he would be paid for his services. Alas, the Shaman was simply glad that it was all over and done with; no more spy work, no more intricate political plots, no more scantily clad merchant nobles with a penchant for assassination, no more dangerous dancing. What he needed now was rest and relaxation, but alas his work was not yet done elsewhere; there were rumblings throughout the city of masked men, curfews being set up at night, and of course the Halloween Hunts were still well underway. He was close to achieving a few more levels now, so perhaps he wouldn't be stuck in the water when it came to combat. Shaking his head, he found himself approaching the door of Lord Carp's abode once again, rapping upon the door with a tripled knock. "At least I managed to finish something," he muttered under his breath, as he waited for the door to open. No answer. Odd. Dorian knocked again, this time standing back to wait patiently for the Lord's greeting; perhaps he was busy with something, setting up business deals or reorganising his stock movement. Finally, after a few minutes of standing idly in the street, the door swung open marginally, the rotund form of the merchant appearing before the Shaman. "Ah, you have arrived! Exthellent, come in, come in! Make yourthelf at home, I'll jutht be a minute." Dorian lowered his head to bow, before stepping forward, entering through the threshold into the home; of course, the room still smelled horrible and stale, just as the last time he had arrived. "You mutht excuthe me, I wath in the middle of organithing thome of my trading; buthy work, buthy work..." Lord Carp prattled on about how difficult it was trying to bring back his reputation after the many disappearances and stolen goods, but luckily he had managed to gather what he had lost from Lady Islatha's schemes. Finally, after many ramblings and dawdling around the room, the merchant procured a small bag of coins, handing it to Dorian with a hasty jab of his arm. "Here you are! The agreed upon amount, ath promithed." The Shaman reluctantly took the bag as it was given, opening it slightly to inspect that money was actually inside of it, and not a pair of bricks. "Thank you kindly, sir Carp," he replied, stashing the bag into his inventory and nodding his head. "No no!" Lord Carp hushed him, slapping his hand down upon his shoulder with incredible force; it was all Dorian could do not to wince from the sudden jolt of pain. "Thank you, Dorian; you have saved me from bankruptcy!" Giving him a weak smile, the Shaman nodded once more, before shrugging the hand off of his shoulder and rising from his seat. "Well, I'll be off then; I have much to do, a little bit of investigating to handle as well." With that, he made one final bow, before bidding the merchant farewell, hastily exiting the building and taking a long breath of fresh air. "Finally over..."
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