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Micarst

PostPosted: Sun Dec 12, 2010 10:10 pm


I'm new here, so I wanted to start an RP instead of joining one and being in the middle of things I don't understand, with dozens of posts to backread and all that. I have a bit of a story line worked out, here, but I want to be flexible enough to let others be creative. I do have a few requests I hope you'd be so kind to follow before you join this campaign.

1. I'd like you to post a basic profile, provided below, for your character and mail me what page it appears on (unless it's page one)... for future reference... before you start making posts in-character. I don't ask for any information about your characters that would be hard to guess from a casual observer's perspective, such as their history, but there are a few things I need to know.

2. I'd like to be joined by literate roleplayers here... I won't hold anyone to a standard, but I like it when posts read like a book, as far as mostly-correct sentence structure, mostly-correct grammar, and the ability to be descriptive.

3. Try to stay in character. When you have a comment to share, make sure you ((OOC: Say it like this for clarity's sake!))

4. Next, if you can remember to do so, please deselect the Attach Signature box. I'll love you forever if you do! mrgreen

5. We'll be using Statistics and Attack Resolution as laid out here at the guild.

6. If someone wants their character to interact with yours, and has written some remark or action that involves your character, respond to their action at some point in your next post, even if you only say "He/she ignored Character X's comment quite obviously." That way, nobody will keep waiting on you. 3nodding


~ Profile ~
Character Name:
Apparent Age:
Apparent Gender:
Race:
Hair Color:
Eye Color:
Height:
Weight:
Physical Description: Words please, but you may add a picture if you like.

Strength: (Value from 1-10)
Coordination: (Value from 1-10)
Cunning: (Value from 1-10)
Looks: (Value from 1-10)
~~Please note - Statistic values may not total higher than 26. (Bonuses may be attained later.) heart  
PostPosted: Sun Dec 12, 2010 10:14 pm


~ Characters Involved ~

Character Name: MicarstUser Image User Image
Apparent Age: 24
Apparent Gender: ...Female...
Race: Feline
Hair Color: Sandy
Eye Color: Gold
Height: 4'11" (150cm)
Weight: 165 lbs (75kg)
Physical Description: Micarst's tawny fur is short and fine except for the mane and tail, which are bushy and coarse by comparison. The arms and legs have a few caramel stripes; hands, face, ears, and the front of the torso have a lighter, creamy color. Big gold eyes are framed by black fur, matching the skin of the lips. Somewhat stocky for a feline, and far heavier than would be expected. Muscles are dense but lean; small wrists and waist. Always wears a matched pair of spiked black bracelets, along with whatever else is deemed appropriate for the task at hand.

Strength: 6
Coordination: 7
Cunning: 8
Looks: 5

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Character Name: GrellaUser Image User Image
Apparent Age: 33
Apparent Gender: Female
Race: Wolfkin
Hair Color: Black mane and tail, brown fur, white muzzle
Eye Color: One green eye
Height: 5'4"
Weight: 145 lbs
Physical Description: Grella's age is hard to judge by her physical condition, though lines are appearing at the corner of her one eye. (The empty socket where the other eye used to be is now covered with a black leather eyepatch; this is out of consideration to people who can't bear to see the hole.) Her nose is black and usually dry. Her fur is coarse, but short enough to be called fuzz everywhere except mane and tail. As an employee of the Harpy's Head Tavern, clothing is required to be red or white, with red or black shoes; her adventuring gear is made up of creamy frills and silvery armor, sensible leather boots, and of course sword and shield.


Strength: 6
Coordination: 7
Cunning: 9
Looks: 4


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Player: SilentFox21993

Character Name: Ace Mitashani

Apparent Age: Mid 20`s
Apparent Gender: Male
Race: Vulpes vulpes (AKA red fox)
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Ice Blue
Height: 5`11"
Weight: 136 Pounds
Physical Description: Ace is a very thin red fox. His main fur color is black, while the fur on his chest, chin, tip of the tail, and inside of the ears is white. His ears stand erect, but sometimes the left ear flops over ((some girls think it`s cute)). His fur is quite thick, and his tail very bushy. He prefers to cover as much of his body as he can with clothing, usually leaning towards jeans and hoodies. He usually wears bracelets, and he wears a necklace around his neck with a pendant attached that he holds very dear to his heart.

Strength: 5
Coordination: 8
Cunning: 8
Looks: 5


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~ Profile Kage-Taisen Twilight~
Character Name: Tyllaid [sounds like Till Eyed]
Apparent Age: 20 though looks like late 17
Apparent Gender: Male
Race: Mixed Kitsune (Arctic and silver back)
Hair Color: Dark Brown
Eye Color: Light Brown
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 144
Physical Description: Tyllaid has very matted red and silver hair with a long White tail which apparently doesn't make him any less appealing than having it clean. He keeps a long coat on that goes to his knees covering up the scars on his sides. He has a silver tooth at the back of the right side of his mouth and a constant focus look with an innocent smile at the same time. A sturdy thick boned type.
Strength: 3
Coordination:7
Cunning:10
Looks: 6


--------------------------------------
 

Micarst


Micarst

PostPosted: Sun Dec 12, 2010 10:15 pm


~ In The World ~

Factions


Factions have no organized chain of command or rank, though they do have symbols to let others know where they stand that may be tattoos, embroidered on clothing, part of jewelry, etc. If you would like your character to be associated with a faction, please PM me with which.


Lightbringers


These folk firmly believe in the goodness of life. Irrepressible optimism, compassion, and regular attendance to the spiritual center of their choice usually set these people apart from the rest. Priests, paladins, and clergy members are most commonly part of the Lightbringers community, though it is not unknown for converts to be won over from other factions. There are no rites or ceremonies involved; it is simply a choice to be upright, moral, and good.

Motto: "Kindness makes the world go 'round."
Symbol: A stylized white flame in an inverted, triangular dark background.


Entropics


Unlike the Lightbringers, Entropics are convinced that everyone has darkness inside them, and pretending it doesn't exist is blasphemy. They are prone to outbursts of temper and depression. Extremists of this faction go out of their way to embrace their inner darkness, murdering or raping with nary a qualm. They usually scorn the law and anything remotely concerned with it, but occasionally an Entropic will choose a job as a jailer, a caravan guard, a soldier, or the like as a way to appease their inner darkness in a way that doesn't harm society. Many politicians are closet Entropics, though it is a legitimate faction choice, protected by law unless one breaks the law in its practice (as the aforementioned murdering rapist would find).

Many descend over time into a state of emotional bitterness, self loathing, disgust for the world, etc which gives them a very negative view of the world. Whether they know it or not, these belong to the Entropic faction.

Motto: "Only if it benefits ME."
Symbol: A black, kneeling humanoid with arms crossed.


Librae


A Libra is usually a calm individual, maintaining personal balance as best they can. They believe if enough people held to the way of balance, wars would end and all would find contentment. They also tend to feel that laws exist to keep people safe; while they almost never break laws themselves, they rarely feel the need to punish others for their crimes, knowing that justice will find the wrongdoers. That is not to say they will stand and permit their lives to be taken without a fight; what animal would not fight, if cornered? In a nutshell, Librae trust in the balance of Nature without question. Gardeners, shepherds, animal handlers, stable hands, and the like are all potential Librae.

Motto: "The wolf does not weep for the stag."
Symbol: A green tree with five branches, inside a gray circle.


Guilds


A guild usually forms in a particular location as an association of professionals in any given field (weavers, farmers, blacksmiths, assassins, etc). Guilds protect the rights of their members beyond what laws may provide; they set minimum prices for goods and services in cities; and guarantee customers a standard of quality, among other things. Please PM me if you would like your character's guild to be added to this list (or if you'd like your character to be part of one listed here), along with a line or two about what they do, what ranks there are, and whether other characters may join it.


Ebon Mask


The Ebon Mask is mainly a guild for assassins and thieves. They may be employed to carry messages in secret, do mercenary work, "recover" objects from a location, or act as plainclothes bodyguards hidden in plain sight. Members may be assigned jobs under certain circumstances, or they may choose from any task posted openly inside the chapter house (located near the North Gate in New Crescent). When caught on the wrong side of the law, they keep their membership a secret, through torture and even death. The vast majority of members join in their low teens as Students of the school, located underground beneath the chapter house. Those who join who are no longer teens still undergo rigorous training and assessments, no matter what skill level they already possess. Students may not take assignments, but they may receive them.

Ranks: Student (lowest), Graduate, Professor, Alchemist (outside of rank structure), Elder, The Mask (guild leader).

Characters may choose to already be part of this guild, or to join it at a later date. I am restricting two ranks at this time- Professor and, of course, The Mask.


Silver Strings


Minstrels by definition, members of the Silver Strings guild live for their music; it binds them together and gives them purpose. They are jealous of their privilege to perform in certain cities, and monopolize 90% of inns and residences where their chapter houses exist. (In Crescent Cove, they are located south of the Water Fair, in Northside.) When they are hired to perform, one fifth of the profits go to the guild itself, to cover expenses of repair and maintenance of instruments, along with food provided by the chapter house, uniform vests, and land taxes. Jobs within the guild may either be freelance, or assigned, with higher-paying jobs going to the more experienced or talented, and less risky jobs going to new Songweavers fresh from their lessons. Apprentices must be sponsored by higher-level members, or put up their own fee for the lessons.

Their trademark uniform vest is simply cut, blue silk edged with black.

Ranks: Apprentice (lowest), Songweavers (graduate), Bard (teacher), Composer (outside rank structure), Virtuoso, Maestro (guild leader).

Characters may choose to already be part of this guild, or to join it at a later date. There are currently no rank restrictions; Maestro is available to the first who wants it.


Strong Arms


Most guardsmen for hire belong to the Strong Arms. They are warriors, in it for the money and nothing else. In times of war their prices increase, due to the increased possibility of injury or death. They usually only accept males for training; the few females that do make it on board are either as strong as the men, or quicker to compensate for the lack. Though the Strong Arms are one of the most visible guilds, not much is known about their operations. One point of interest is that they have no chapter house, choosing instead to meet regularly in a private dining room at the Harpy's Head Tavern, Dockside.

The uniform for a Strong Arm consists of studded leather armor, the color of dried blood. Jokingly, it is said the color was chosen to save money on uniforms- they don't show bloodstains at all.

Ranks: Trainee (lowest), Shield (graduate), Sword (teacher), Centurion, Legionnaire, Commander (guild leader).


Standard Currency


Copper - think pennies. 10 = 1 Silver
Silver - think dimes. 10 = 1 Gold
Gold - think dollars. 10 = 1 Platinum

Most food staples, like normal fruit, vegetables, low-end baked goods, or eggs, can be bought for several coppers. Meat ranges from half a gold (for fowl, reptiles, etc) to several gold (red meat, exotic meats, etc). There is no limit to the cost of a glass of fine wine, but the cheapest is sometimes as low as five silver. (You can use this as a standard for other items your character may wish to purchase. I set no limit to the amount of money your character may possess or carry.)


Locations


Crescent Cove
Population: Approximately 5,000
As much a fortress as a city, Crescent Cove has a double wall running around its exterior, utterly encircled when the harbor's Sea Gate is closed. Its other two gates face north and west respectively. A hundred years ago, its eastern wall was destroyed by invaders from the sea; afterward, it was rebuilt to encompass New Crescent, the poor town that had sprang up in the shadow of the wall, in spite of protests from a minority of nobles. There are still quite a few shanties and even a row of tents along the outside of the newest wall, because the homeless shelter tends to stay full.

A small river, the Stone Flow, washes down from the mountain range a few miles to the north. It always flows mysteriously warm, hot even, with a strange mineral flavor that is hard to get used to. The Stone Flow enters the city by means of a narrow, barred tunnel under the city wall; there it separates the sliver of public park from that reserved for residents of Northside. The Stone Flow is diverted into two main canals that run to the other parts of town, for bathing, laundering, or cooking; wastewater that trickles down into the sewers doubles back to the third, minor canal that spills out into the harbor. The docks themselves are on the south curve of the cove, allowing an unhindered view of the Sea Gate from most of the shore.

The streets are cobblestone, finer in the North Side where the rich live, almost gravel-like in the poorest part of the New Crescent. It has two markets; the Water Fair for imported goods and oddities, accessible by bridges and surrounded by canals, and the Fish Market where farmers and sailors alike bring their wares. All in all, a charming little city - if you can ignore the stray breeze from Dockside, usually stinking of fish.

User Image


Black squares = Residences
Red squares = Taverns
White squares = Shops
Orange squares = Inns
Lavender squares = Known Guild Chapter Houses  
PostPosted: Mon Dec 13, 2010 7:09 am


I am interested in joining, if you are all right with someone who can`t use the return feature. That means I can`t create new paragraphs, but I will work it out to make things clear.

Character Name: Ace Mitashani

Apparent Age: Mid 20`s
Apparent Gender: Male
Race: Vulpes vulpes (AKA red fox)
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Ice Blue
Height: 5`11"
Weight: 136 Pounds
Physical Description: Ace is a very thin red fox. His main fur color is black, while the fur on his chest, chin, tip of the tail, and inside of the ears is white. His ears stand erect, but sometimes the left ear flops over ((some girls think it`s cute)). His fur is quite thick, and his tail very bushy. He prefers to cover as much of his body as he can with clothing, usually leaning towards jeans and hoodies. He usually wears bracelets, and he wears a necklace around his neck with a pendant attached that he holds very dear to his heart.

Strength: 5
Coordination: 8
Cunning: 8
Looks: 5

SilentFox21993


Micarst

PostPosted: Tue Dec 14, 2010 5:16 pm


Welcome. biggrin If you want to differentiate between paragraphs, you could put a bunch of ........... in between. Or something like that. I'll be starting tomorrow or the next day, I had an issue with a major plot blunder (imo anyway... it probably would have been fine, lol) and need a little more time to reconsider a few things.
PostPosted: Wed Dec 15, 2010 9:54 pm


Bright morning sunlight spilled into the Harpy's Head Tavern through the huge windows, each of them barred inside and out for protection from breaking. The walls seemed to be freshly whitewash, and the wood floor, though scuffed, had a polished gleam from the endless tread of feet. Tables and chairs were mostly occupied all around the common room; strange, that the tavern was so busy at this early hour, filled with a worried hum of conversation. A raised platform provided a place for performers to entertain, but of course it stood empty. Against the wall between the stairwell and the main door, a long, scarred-and-pitted bar provided more seating in the form of cunningly made swivel stools. Behind this bar, polishing a glass mug with apparent inattention, stood a youngish Wolfkin barmaid.

She watched the door intently, trying to ignore snatches of conversation from the patrons, trusting to the serving girls to take orders and fill cups for the time being. Her contact was late... a silent snarl lifted her lips from shining white teeth momentarily, and her one green eye narrowed. Then as the door swung open to admit yet another customer, she smoothed her expression with practiced speed and cracked a welcoming smile.

It was not the one for whom she waited.

User Image

Micarst


Micarst

PostPosted: Wed Dec 15, 2010 10:14 pm


User Image


Almost on the previous customer's heels, a feminine Feline limped in. Her bamboo staff made muted thuds against the floorboards as she went straight up the stairs, not even bothering to remove her black facemask. A few of the tavern's occupants looked after her in surprise, and also at the barmaid. It was generally considered bad manners to not check in when returning to a tavern one had rented a sleeping-room from; aside from that, this particular barmaid had a reputation for ferocity when offended.

Grella only raised an eyebrow, staring each of them down with her one good eye, and replaced the polished mug behind the counter. The Wolfkin glanced into the kitchen and murmured to the cook, "We'll need a few fish in about an hour or so. She's back."

Then it was time to wipe down the bar for perhaps the tenth time that day, listening to the rumors being spread about Prince Korman's disappearance the previous day. It seemed that, as yet, nobody had discovered a single fact; the Skunk had apparently vanished into thin air. Many people were blaming his father, who was due to step down from the throne but unwilling to permit his inexperienced, reportedly-spoiled heir his birthright. It made a sort of ugly sense, to Grella, but she would withhold judgment until more information could be gathered.
PostPosted: Thu Dec 16, 2010 8:45 pm


((OOC: Not making a reference post for the character Grella, because she won't be leaving the tavern anytime soon.))

People started to trickle out of the tavern, some pausing to thank Grella, or settle their tabs, or, in the case of the multiple newcomers to Crescent Cove, to get directions. It was about midmorning, and preparations for the lunch crowd were already in full swing. A pair of workers whisked between the tables, adding dirty dishes to their trays (and tips to their pockets) while a third followed behind them with a broom and yet another with a rag to wipe everything down. They were the part-time help, all young enough to have been Grella's children if she'd had any. Once the cleaning was seen to, they would be leaving to go to their lessons, as most children did.

A pair of twin Felines, almost identical, slipped in, chatting amiably between them. Dana and Dena were employees for the afternoon shift, dressed not-quite-scandalously in their serving uniforms. Since the patrons during the evening were often single and more willing to tip if a bit of flesh showed, Grella permitted their minor deviations from the standard.

User Image


"Get us some early lunch, would you, Grella? You can join us too," Dana called as they took a seat. Her yellow eyes flashed with laughter. "If the morning was as empty as this, you probably need some entertainment, eh?" The few patrons remaining seemed to be split between ogling the twins or burying themselves in apathy.

Grella rolled her green eye, smiling for their benefit. They were only a few years younger than she... but those years seemed an eternity at times. She went to the kitchen to get a tray of simple fare- boiled eggs, bread, cheese, and some milk- and a few plates, and strode to the table they'd chosen.

"What's wrong, Grella?" Dena asked softly when she'd taken a seat.

Her worry must have shown on her face. Grella made herself smile wanly, and faked a yawn as convincingly as she could. "It was busy a bit ago," she admitted. "I didn't realize how hungry I was getting." She tucked into the food to prevent them from expecting her to converse, listening with one ear while they continued their gossip about some guy they'd met earlier. Mostly she watched the stairway intently.

"But he looked so young," Dana was saying.

"He was wearing too much gold openly to be a thief," Dena countered. "Maybe he's the son of some lord or other, who's been away at boarding school or managing country estates or something?"

Dana snorted into her mug of milk, sending shockwaves across the surface of the liquid and almost choking in the process. "You do dream, don't you?" she teased.

"Well, if he weren't a Skunk, I would have been more interested," Dena replied primly. "Besides, you were the one staring at his-"

"What did you say?" Grella interrupted sharply, her ears coming fully erect as she stared at Dena.

"Well, she was staring at his-" the pale Feline began, her pink nose flushing red.

Grella held up a hand to forestall her. "Before that."

"I would've been more interested if he weren't a Skunk?" Dena sounded more than a little bewildered, and her whiskers drooped. "You aren't... racist... are you?"

The Wolfkin shook her head, pretending to lose interest. "For a minute I thought you were talking about someone I knew," she lied, "his name was Stunk. I guess I was dozing off." Grella permitted an apologetic smile to stretch her mouth wide, while the girls tittered.

A voice at her elbow made Grella jerk herself erect in her chair. "Miss, I wondered if I might have a word with you? About a job?" The sandy-furred Feline was standing there, looking a little better minus the facemask.

Grella exchanged a look with the twins, as though to say "in her dreams". She stood gracefully and motioned to the stairwell. "I'll give you an interview, of course, same as any applicant. Let's go downstairs to the office." Internally, she was abuzz with excitement, but outwardly she clung to calm by a thin shred. Finally, at last, a bit of action!

It was so hard, remaining at the Harpy's Head when she longed to be adventuring. But then, she reflected, she didn't have to go out looking for information here. It just came in on its own two feet...

Micarst

Micarst rolled 1 20-sided dice: 19 Total: 19 (1-20)

Micarst

PostPosted: Fri Dec 17, 2010 11:57 pm


Grella allowed herself to be followed down the stairs and through the dimly-lit wine cellar to the office. It was either a mark of trust- or of confidence in her own abilities. Rather foolishly, she couldn't decide which interpretation she'd prefer. She paused only to take the last candle from its holder on the wall.

The office was quite small, but comfortably furnished. The chair behind the desk had considerably more leather padding built into its frame than the two in front of the desk, in mismatched red, brown and black leather that nonetheless were complementary. Each wall had a multi-tiered shelf, with ledgers arranged by the month for the last nine years. A mug full of quills sat ready on the desk beside a full ink jar and a small oil lamp. The Wolfkin lit the lamp and pulled a sheaf of papers (and setting the topmost aside) from the topmost drawer in the desk before taking a seat, indicating with a wave that the Feline should close the door.

The sandy-furred Feline did so with a slight smile, her yellow eyes warm and bright in the glow. "It's good to see you again," she said softly, reaching to clasp Grella's hand, fingers intertwined and palms pressed together: the secret handshake of the Ebon Mask guild. Only then did she sit.

Grella began writing a few notes on the papers, seemingly absorbed in the task but actually looking the younger Feline over carefully. "Likewise. I'll get straight to the point, since this is a timely issue. In my report, I've outlined the current feud between the New Crescent residents and the North Siders. A few of the nobles apparently don't believe in the new laws, and stole several small children last night from the poor folk. It is being whispered that those kids have already been shipped out." She stopped writing to let her green eye regard the Feline more openly.

The sandy-furred female waited for more, but finally had to prod the conversation along. "That is troublesome, but hardly worthy of a report in itself. What else do you have?"

"One of the nobles reported in the abduction was a Skunk." The other's gasp was so gratifying, Grella rushed on. "And just a few minutes past, the twins- yes, the ones sitting up stairs- told me they met a Skunk earlier this morning. Wearing too much gold openly, they said. Micarst... what if it really was Korman? Do you still intend to go looking for him?"

Micarst sprawled backward in her chair, idly twirling a bit of mane around her finger as she considered. "I suppose," she finally said. "Whether he is here in the city or truly vanished, we must know. The Succession must be maintained. Ultimately The Mask will decide what end serves us best, but for now the pawns must remain on the board."

The Wolfkin suppressed a sigh. Oh, the passion and certainty of youth. At that moment she wished she could find it again; she felt every one of her thirty years as keenly as though she were on her deathbed. "For now," she replied agreeably. She patted the freshly-scribed notes with a scrap of cloth, then rolled up all but one to be tied with a ribbon.

Micarst was already removing a spiked leather bracelet; her fingers deftly touched the tips of the spikes in a convoluted sequence. As her finger withdrew from the last, a dark, wavering shadow seemed to engulf the space inside the bracelet's circle. She took the rolled papers and pushed them through...

((Edit: Rolled 19.))

The papers disappeared into the darkness smoothly, and Micarst let out a sigh of relief. "I need to have these adjusted; sometimes of late, they work too slowly- and once, not at all," she said, touching the spikes again to close the dimensional pocket. "If Jæcil is at the chapter house, I'll have to ask him for the favor. He owes me anyway."

Grella passed over the remaining sheet of parchment, folded inward and sealed with a dribble of wax. "Here's your cover letter," the Wolfkin said with a smirk. It was a bad joke, but they both giggled anyhow as they stood and left the office. Before they'd reached the stairs, the "cover letter" was securely stashed in the pocket of Micarst's black leggings.

By the time Micarst was seated with a plate of fish, the pale twins were bursting so obviously with curiosity that their eyes gleamed. Grella shook her head at them as they waited on customers, mouthing "later" between taking lunch orders and refilling beverages. The next chance she had, she cast her green eye toward the sandy Feline's table... but Micarst was already gone.
PostPosted: Mon Dec 20, 2010 10:21 am


Micarst chuckled to herself as she slid the window open in her room at the Harpy's Head Tavern. Poor old Grella had been here so long, she was growing soft. The Feline shoved the ends of her black cloak into her belt so they wouldn't tangle her up. Then she climbed swiftly out the window, clinging with her claws to the wooden windowsill with one hand and both feet while the other hand drew the window back down from the outside. She leaned so far forward, her nose pressed against the glass. It wouldn't close completely, but sufficiently that no casual observer would notice.

Of course, to one of her own craft, it would be an obvious signal that she was out working somewhere. If any knew of her current base of operations.

She paused to steady her nerves, the excitement of feeling stone-steady muscles and excellent balance coming fresh yet again. She planted her feet against the windowsill, let go with her hands, and arched her back as she shoved off with her feet. As she started to flip backward and away from the building, she shut her eyes briefly to focus on the interplay of tendons and muscle. As her feet came up topmost she spread them wide to slow the flip; by the time her feet came to the bottom of her spin, the ground had rushed up to meet them. Bent knees absorbed the shock of the controlled fall, and the Feline smiled to herself. Child's play for one of her race, but still fun. And a bad decision, she thought sourly. Each step now sent a twinge through the half-healed sprain she'd suffered just this morning.

Her only other choice was to stop working for a while; definitely not a choice. If, as she suspected, Prince Korman was the one behind the disappearance of those children, any minute wasted might make the difference. The breeze here at Dockside, so close to the quay, smelled strongly of salt water and fish. Not unpleasant, really, though it did make Micarst wish she had taken a more plentiful repast. She quickly pulled her cloak loose from her belt, glancing up and down the street to make sure she hadn't been seen. Her feet pulled her at a rapid jog through the neat, grid-patterned streets of Crescent Cove, ever northward and eventually east. Each step jarred her ankle, but she kept on. It was no worse than having her spine reconstructed inside her body while her life dangled by a thread.

The difference between North Side and Dockside was startling to those who weren't used to it: wooden buildings at Dockside faced brick and stone buildings across the street where North Side officially began. The rich inhabitants of North Side, be they merchant or noble born, were proud and foolish in their pride. The grandest house in North Side had impoverished the family that built it, so they now lived in New Crescent in shame and destitution. The difference between North Side and New Crescent, though- that was even more shocking.

Stone houses and the like gave way abruptly into buildings made from driftwood planks, charred scraps from other buildings, soiled cloth instead of real windows, cracked table tops for doors... it was sad, really, but there was nothing to be done for it that had not already been done. Micarst followed a pair of snot-nosed Rats in dirty, patched clothing as they ran headlong toward the soup kitchen. Their beady little eyes looked so hopeful as they joined the line stretching a full block away, that it almost hurt to watch.

Instead of taking a place in line, the Feline went straight to the back of the building and went in. The kitchen workers nodded familiarly to her, but said nothing. She walked past a cauldron of soup bubbling over a fire and an incongruously new brick oven, directly into the pantry. It was cramped and dark with the door shut, and it stank of garlic, but she knelt on the floor and pressed her palms against it. A tingle of magic touched her palms. Aloud, Micarst chanted softly the nonsense syllables that activated the lift. "Nen yas den bas, wey las sey mas." By the end of the first line, the pantry door had automatically locked; with the end of the second line, the sensation of falling made the Feline grasp reflexively at the floor. She thought she'd never get used to that.

The lift came to a stop some three or four floors underground; it was hard to judge with no light. Micarst stood quickly and straightened her garments, then reached for the doorknob she knew from memory existed there. Once she exited the lift closet she heard the faintest whirr as the lift returned to its place as the floor of the soup kitchen's pantry. The guild's head wizard, Jæcil, might be half-mad, but he was also at least half genius. The Ebon Mask had no need for guards because his spell could sense whether an individual had taken the membership oath or not. Without that difference, a spy would be foiled in every attempt to use the lift.

Micarst paced down the brightly lit hall, not bothering to open any of the doors to check who was using each of the rooms. The Cold Room, for building endurance in frigid conditions, and The Hot Room, for the opposite. The Forest Room, where Jæcil's enchantments simulated real trees and beasts so closely it was easy to forget they were copies. The Tech room, full of gears and springs and all things mechanical, and almost non-magical (compared to the first three) with a single spell to dampen any explosions that might occur there. The Battle Room, The Garden, and Classrooms One through Four she passed also, a bit impatiently now. Then the hallway opened up as though by accident to the Meeting Cavern, carved from the rock beneath Crescent Cove and completely untouched by magic.

The cavern arched high above, easily two stories, with an entire wall devoted to bookshelves. The other three walls were lavishly decorated with stolen paintings and tapestries, between openings to other hallways. A few of her guild mates were sprawled in chairs or on cushions all around, many playing card games or gambling idly, but only three sat at the feast table she headed toward. One of them, a Rat, gestured in her direction, and a second (a Raccoon) frowned heavily. But Jæcil himself turned to look toward her. He glanced back to his colleagues, and muttered something to dismiss them (Micarst could not hear the words, but from the sullen way the two got up and stalked away, it was obviously a dismissal and not a farewell).

The male Feline stood gracefully, his black beanie tilted at a jaunty angle as he grinned at her and took her shoulders in his snowy white hands. His blue eyes flashed merrily down into her golden ones as he spoke. "Micarst! Just the Feline I've been waiting for. Let's go somewhere a little more private, and you can report." He let go of her shoulders and turned to stride down a hallway, robes flapping, and the sandy-furred female followed meekly. She knew what few others, even inside the guild, did: Jæcil was The Mask, their leader from the shadows, due all of their allegiance though many thought he was just a flake.

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Jæcil had never explained why things had to be that way to a lowly Graduate like her. What the Snow-leopard patterned Feline had explained was that he knew Micarst's secret identity... something nobody else knew or would ever suspect.

Micarst was really a male.

Micarst

Micarst rolled 1 20-sided dice: 8 Total: 8 (1-20)

Micarst

PostPosted: Thu Dec 23, 2010 10:18 am


Jæcil led the way to an unused lecture room, deep in the stone warren that was the Ebon Mask chapter house. Half a hundred seats were arranged in tiers facing a desk and chalkboard on the lowest level; it was here that they stopped. There was no secret handshake exchanged here; there was no need.

Wordlessly, Micarst took off a spiked bracelet and triggered the dimensional pocket... ((EDIT: Bad roll!)) but a flash of light and a stink like rotting flowers filled the air. "The alignment is going off on this thing," she said apologetically.

"I'll see to it shortly," Jæcil responded. He cupped his hands together and chanted under his breath, until he held a misty ball of swirling black. "Put your hand in just as though it were your own keyhole," the Snow Leopard said in a strained voice.

Micarst held the key words firmly in her mind and reached in (her hand didn't come out the other side of the dark sphere, a mark of success), drew out Grella's report, and handed it over. "I wish I could do that," she said with a sigh as the other feline scanned through the documents.

The wizard took up a piece of chalk and started an apparently idle sketch, holding the papers forgotten in one hand, with his back toward the cross dresser in a manner that should have been degrading. Assassins never turned their backs on each other except as a measured insult (to indicate they didn't think the other was strong enough to pose any threat), or, very rarely, as a gesture of trust. This felt like the latter of the two... unlikely as it was.

"Let's talk about what you found out last night," Jæcil said over his shoulder.

Micarst straightened, tail tip slowly twitching. "New Crescent children have been abducted by someone in the middle of the night. North Side nobles are openly suspected on the streets, and it has been said that the children are already bound for the slave auctions on Fire Island." She hesitated before adding, "A Skunk was reported seen during the abduction. Two of Grella's waitresses at the Harpy's Head apparently also saw a Skunk today."

"Korman." Jæcil half-hissed the name, his back stiffening and tail lashing with open anger. Half-seen sparks flickered from his fingers, still marking with the chalk, though more rapidly now. The telltale scent of magic wafted from him, akin to the singed-air smell after a lightning strike. "He must still be within the city limits, or they wouldn't be trying so hard to implicate him."

"Sir?" Micarst's yellow eyes were as wide as they could be. Never in her life had the wizard lost composure in front of her. They who?

Jæcil turned abruptly to face her in a swirl of blue robes, his eyes narrowed to slits. "I may be wrong to trust you just because I know what you really are, but you've never made a mistake I couldn't fix," the Snow Leopard said bluntly. "You're going to get yourself caught stealing in the North Side. They keep wards against eavesdropping spells where the Dark Council meets, which actually tells me exactly where it is. But I can't move openly against them yet. We need allies." He started pacing up and down the length of the chalkboard, frowning occasionally at the picture there. It was a fair likeness of Prince Korman, but drawn without eyes.

The sand-furred Feline stood there with the blood roaring through her ears. The Dark Council. How long had they remained hidden, directing law and life in the city without a hitch? They must have been outvoted on the newest anti-slavery laws by some slight margin, or they wouldn't have bothered abducting the children secretly and at night. Several pieces of the puzzle fell into place as Micarst watched the Mask striding back and forth, but she said nothing. When at last Jæcil came to a halt, he held his hand out and flicked his eyes toward the enchanted spiked bracelets, speaking not a word.

Micarst handed them over as silently, trying not to watch as light grew between the bracelets in Jæcil's hands. It became almost blindingly brilliant, then quite suddenly faded, leaving only a purple after-image. "They should work consistently for a while," the wizard said quietly. "We haven't the time for a more permanent correction. It will be difficult to escape after they've captured you, but I can't commit anyone to come rescue you, should you fail. Do you accept the risk as your own?"

"I will," she answered firmly. Doubts are for the weak.

Jæcil's eyes closed briefly as though relieved. Surely he'd known what the answer would be? "Then here is what you are going to do..."
PostPosted: Thu Dec 23, 2010 1:13 pm


((Please don't hate me too much. My phone is dead...not dead as in the battery, but dead as in adios, Rest in Peace, long live the king dead. I don't really know what happened to it, but it will not start up past the 'hello' screen. I feel bad about not being able to post. You may be wondering how I am posting now, and I am over at powerarmormann's house. So in other words, I won't be able to post until I get a new phone.))

SilentFox21993


Micarst

PostPosted: Thu Dec 23, 2010 2:01 pm


SilentFox21993
((So in other words, I won't be able to post until I get a new phone.))
((Thanks for stopping by to let me know. mrgreen ))
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