• Open • {Raelia}Bright Silks, Gray Linens (Graded)

[Rorom]

79th Ymiden 719

Time of Day/Night: 3rd Break
Weapons: Blood Steel Seaxes
Armor: Masterwork, silk Gambeson

Injuries: Uninjured
Illness: Healthy

Rorom stood looking out from the starboard rail of the Bed of Nels. It'd been a long and winding journey from Ivorian to the Etzori Passage and finally around to Ne'haer, where he lingered a while before embarking for Raelia. He'd made berth in a port village near Etzori territory early on, only briefly to let the men recuperate from the harsh conditions they'd had to sail through. Then, once the dead weight was thrown out and new blood entered the crew, he made directly for Ne’haer, not stopping for Rhakros or any other port. He wouldn't let the men take a full rest until they were at the port of Raelia.

He had only a few days in Ne’haer to recuperate and recruit for crewmates to his ships, before setting off once more.

After another long trip around the rest of the continent, Rorom finally reached the port of Raelia.

The grand port of Raelia stood before the Bed of Nels, with traffic going in and out steadily through the before morning hours. He smelled the salt air of the unfamiliar city, before lifting a large swordfish they'd caught. It was the finest catch he'd made on the way from the east, and so thought to make tribute to placate Chrien as well as her folk who swam these waters. The large swordfish was slashed in the sides before being dumped gently overboard, along with a bounty of freshly caught fish for the rest of the local mer to gorge on.

Once that offering was made, he went for the port side of the Bed of Nels and flipped a few golden coins overboard, to honor U'frek's protection on the voyage. It was a time tested ritual, and through all of Rorom's travels, he hadn't lost a ship to disaster or violence yet.

That done, he made for the ship's wheel, up the stairs and to the top of the cabin. "Drop fore sails. Ready the gangplank. We're for Raelia."

So saying, Rorom began steering the Bed of Nels into harbor, followed closely by The Lucky Bird. Fortuna flew overhead, and then alighted to the deck beside Rorom, quacking loudly at him.

"Almost there, Fortuna..." Rorom said absently.

The ship steadily approached the harbor, passing by the seagates. Qylios' Tower was already visible, from miles out to sea, shining a beacon for all to know where Raelia was. Beside it, the dual temples of Chrien and U'frek. Rorom had seen many cities since leaving this place, but still none really compared to the beauty of the Ne'haer, and her dark sister city of Raelia. Charmadarst might forgive him, for being very biased toward the home of the Biqaj as opposed to Raelia, though the latter might have more commercial opportunities.

"Curl the sails! Slow as she goes!" Rorom shouted at the crew. He threw a look over his shoulder, to watch as the Lucky Bird followed, with it's crew of three aboard and busying themselves for their own efforts to find harbor.

With a final slowdown, the Bed of Nels slided next to a long pier, which attached to the steep Wharves that stood ahead and to the city.

Rorom went down to where his crew laid down the gangplank, having a couple of them haul down a chest full of loot to divide the spoils of their journey, for those who’d be departing. While he hadn't sold the silks yet, the voucher promised their worth would be sufficient to make payment for the crewmen. More than enough, really.

The men seemed pleased enough with their take, the dozen or so of them accepting a couple of golden nels for their troubles. Of course, they'd also have a share of the trade of the silks, provided they returned for duty whenever Rorom set out again. But for now, it was Rorom's business to see the silk's carried out to the Harbormaster's Warehouse.

There he arranged for the silks to be taken out of his hold in the Bed of Nels.

Afterward, he went to the nearest tavern to shake off the barnacles and sea salt of travel. He arrived at a dockside establishment that was loud and warm and welcoming.

Knowledge Tracker

Seafaring: Steering a schooner into harbor.
Navigation: Finding a tavern in Raelia Harbor.
Business Management: Always pay your hirelings.
Business Management: Honor your obligations to your employees.

[Abra]

The tavern was a great place to sit back and relax. There wasn’t any music and instead there was a low rumble of voices that created a veil of white noise to those intending to let the night pass by in a drunken stupor. The bar was about half full which was good enough for the bartender to turn a profit and wear a smile when Rorom entered the premises.

Most everyone was sitting at a table, except for one skinny man with medium length hair who was standing by a table that had a pile of daggers on it. This man was Abra. He picked up dagger after dagger and hurled it at the thick wooden section of the wall that only existed to have sharp objects lobbed at it. Regulars would play darts here and usually Abra would have to wait his turn.

Fortunately he got here early enough to claim the space as his own. He lobbed each dagger at the wall with hopeful aspiritions. Not a single one embedded in the wall. Each bounced off the wall several feet with a soft knock. Abra could be heard whispering under his breath. He counted.

“one, two, three, four, five.”

He collected his weapons and tried again, observing how the daggers were always offcenter of where he intended to throw. He was weak enough to where they travelled slowly enough so that he could see them dropping as they travelled.

“one, two, three, four five.”

He counted again and adjusted his aim. This would be his whole night if he wasn’t careful.


Knowledge Tracker:
Mathematics: Counting individual units
Physics: Projectiles will fall after being thrown


Reminder: Add to thread tracker

[Rorom]

Time of Day/Night: 3rd Break
Weapons: Fists and furniture, no blades.
Armor: A masterwork gambeson

Injuries: Bruised gut
Illness: Shortness of breath

Rorom entered the tavern, and nodded with a smile toward the bartender. He lifted his hand to him, ”A round of ale tender. Two pints and a pitcher.” The Biqaj captain had picked up a charming little custom while living in Rharne. Where people who were going to drink, would always first buy a drink for someone else before they partook. The Ilarenite custom was a charming one, Rorom felt, and conducive to forging usefully cordial relationships.

He watched as the bartender filled his order, and set them tankards and pitchers on a tray. Once he did so, Rorom took the tray, and went over toward the corner where a man was playing dag-nab-it, or a dagger throwing game of some sort. The man was counting his points, it seemed.

Not wanting to interrupt him, he waited for him to collect his daggers after the latest round, before speaking to him. Once he turned around to gain distance from the wall once more, Rorom offered him a tankard. ”For Ilaren.” He invoked the Immortal’s name without the slightest apprehension.

Suddenly, the bar fell silent. Everyone had heard Rorom. The captain, nonplussed by this sudden silence, set the tankard down for the dagger thrower. He turned to look around the room.

Men and women alike were glowering at him. It didn’t take long before one of them got up out of their chair. A large, bulky man, about an inch or two taller than Rorom. He looked down on the Biqaj, and rumbled in a surly tone, ”You a morty lover? We ain’t got no Ilarens round here. We Melrathi hold to the Spirits.”

”I’m sorry?” Rorom offered, handing the second tankard to this man, wondering if he would ever get a chance to take a drink himself. ”I don’t know much about the spirits…”

So saying, he turned around to face Abra ocne more. ”So, the drink is all yours if you want it. Always buy a drink for someone else before…”

But Rorom was interrupted as the bulky oaf behind him whirled him around on his feet, and punched him in the gut.

”OOf!” Rorom groaned, doubled over with the wind knocked momentarily out of him.

His hands held himself up by the back of a chair. He gathered his wits, before returning the favor with a swing of the very chair he was using to prop himself up. The oaf wasn’t prepared, but let the furniture smash against his shoulder.

Pounding his fist into an open palm, the oaf glowered and smiled with malice down on Rorom. Looked like he was in for a good old fashioned bar brawl!

Knowledge Tracker

Etiquette: Buy someone a drink before you take one yourself.
Endurance: Taking a punch to the gut.
Bludgeon (Furniture): Smash a guy across the shoulder with a chair.
Discipline: Don't back down from a fight.

[Abra]

A man with a tankard approached him and Abra didn’t know how to react. He was so focused on the little training session he was having. He thought that maybe someone had ordered him a drink or the bartender had gotten him confused with someone else.

“Illaren”

That word got Abra’s attention. Only an idiot would go bringing up immortals around a bunch of other drunken idiots. Was he an idiot, or just uninformed? He said the word so casually and was taken aback when people got mad about it. One even took it to the extreme and started a fight over it.

Abra pulled back a dagger and tried to ignore the little fight but the ground kept shaking and there was no way he was going to get a clean shot off like this. It was hard to remain neutral. This fight was truly trying his devotion to Camardst. He wanted to get involved now not because he favored a side in the spirits vs immortals debate but because he wanted some peace and quiet.

“Stop it already, I can’t throw my daggers like this!”

Abra shouted at the top of his lungs and jumped into the fight. He punched and kicked with all his might which wasn’t very much if he had to be honest. He would do his best to separate the two by pushing them away from each other and wouldn’t be above wrestling the Melrathian to the ground if he could manage it. He was completely sober and that gave him the tactical advantage.

[Spoiler]
Knowledge tracker

Mathematics: Counting individual units
Physics: Projectiles will fall after being thrown
Discipline: it's hard to resist imposing your will on others
Meditation: it's hard to concentrate with distractions around you

[/Spoiler]

[Rorom]

So, as Abra was getting between Rorom and the big guy, the Captain dropped his drink on the floor, and ended up slipping on the wet fluid. He conked out almost immediately, already quite inebriated from the rum he'd drank on his way over toward the tavern from his ship.

Within moments, after stunning himself by slipping on the beer, he began snoring loudly. The rest of the tavern erupted in laughter at the old foolish captain. Then, a group of burly bouncers picked up his sorry hide, and tossed his fancy arse out on the street.

His purse jingled with nels, for anyone who had ears to hear. It wouldn't be long before the urchins and pickpockets would be by to snip up his pocket change. If Abra was fast, he might be able to cop a few coins off the sorry son of a sea bitch.

All the while, as he lay in the hay outside the Inn and tavern, he snored loudly, grumbling in his apparently deep sleep.

He tossed and turned if anyone tried to move him over, and flipped over on his nel purse, making it hard for anyone to get more than a few nels off of him.

Even so, he was pretty loaded with the more valuable kind of nels, Onyx and gold, so it'd still be a good bounty for anyone who wanted to take it off of him.

He stretched and snored for all the street to hear. Wouldn't be long now until the urchins came crawling to see what they could pick off of Rorom...

OOC

Heya Abra, I'm going to be retiring Rorom soon, so you can go ahead and finish this off, claim it as a collaboration if you like (which means 8 knowledge and 15 xp). Also, have 10 wp from Rorom's purse for your trouble. Sorry about ducking out early.

[Abra]

Imagine Abra’s surprise when the people he wanted to stop fighting all started to laugh. His temper was about to boil over from his inner struggle with remaining neutral and it all sort of faded. It wasn’t long before he was laughing too. He had overeacted by trying to stop the fight since the foreigner was too uncoordinated to even stay standing. He wondered if it was the will of the spirits who could have very well made him fall, if a mischievous one happened to be around.

The bodyguards hauled the foreigner away which left a trail of coins. Jackpot. Abra picked up every coin available to him and stuffed his pockets, praising the immortal of wealth in his head. He dared not to mention his name with all these people listening or else he’d be the one knocked out. He would have kept collecting coin until there was none left but there were plenty of others that wanted in on it. Abra watched as a pile of bodies hit the ground, giving him the perfect opportunity to leave.

Abra made his way back home where he’d finally be safe to count his winnings. He estimated that he’d just made as much money as a year’s wages, if not more. This was the kind of money that he would hunt someone down for but if the foreign immortal worshiper was carrying this amount in his purse, then he probably had money to spare. “Thank you for this stroke of luck,” he prayed out loud this time. He wouldn’t let this money go to waste

[Strange]

Thread Review

Abra

Abra

Skill Points: +15 (cannot be used for magic)
Magic XP: None.

Renown: +5 (jumping into the bar fight)

Injuries/Overstepping: Some scuffed bruises.
Wealth Points: +10 WP (From Rorom)
Loot: None.

Skill Knowledge:

• Mathematics: Counting individual units
• Physics: Projectiles will fall after being thrown
• Discipline: it's hard to resist imposing your will on others
• Discipline: Being neutral is harder than it seems
• Meditation: it's hard to concentrate with distractions around you

Non-Skill Knowledge:

• none requested.

Notes: The correct code to place OOC notes under a drop down is

Code: Select all

[sptitle=titlehere] ooc info [/sptitle]

Also, try to check Chamadarst's spelling since Abra is Sombran marked, he'll probably be thinking/saying the name enough to merit learning the correct spelling or having it kept somewhere for easy reference.
Player Word Count: 857 words.

Rorom

Rorom

Skill Points: +15 (cannot be used for magic).
Magic XP: None.

Renown: +10 (being an open Immortal worshiper in Raelia)

Injuries/Overstepping: Aches and pains, scratches and bruises, a headache.
Wealth Points: -10 WP (to Abra).
Loot: None

Skill Knowledge:

• Seafaring: Steering a schooner into harbor.
• Navigation: Finding a tavern in Raelia Harbor.
• Business Management: Always pay your hirelings.
• Business Management: Honor your obligations to your employees.
• Etiquette: Buy someone a drink before you take one yourself.
• Endurance: Taking a punch to the gut.
• Bludgeon (Furniture): Smash a guy across the shoulder with a chair.
• Discipline: Don't back down from a fight.

Non-Skill Knowledge:

• none requested.

Notes: I added the knowledge in your tracker, PM if you'd like to request others.
Player Word Count: 1641 words.

...that escalated quickly. No complaints though! That's what Rorom gets for toasting to an immortal in Melrath when he'd barely shaken off his sealegs yet. That Abra simply jumped into the fray, for fairly self-centered reasons, was amusing and close enough to his character... maybe.

It's a shame this didn't continue with actual interaction between Abra and Rorom, but at least Abra got some coin from a fellow Sombran. It was good of you, Rorom to wrap this up instead of dropping it entirely though.

Enjoy your rewards!

PM me if you have any questions, issues or concerns.

Total Word Count: 2,498 words.

Review Request Link: viewtopic.php?p=126991#p126991
stampcodehere