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Welcome to Elenlond, an original medieval fantasy roleplaying forum! We strive for creative, free-form roleplaying, in the hopes of allowing each and every single member the power to achieve their potential.
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| Welcome to Elenlond, an original medieval fantasy forum! We're always looking for new, dedicated members. Elenlond is composed of two continents: Soare and Esiria. Esiria, a land now isolated due to the efforts of the last remaining Goddess, is inaccessible to all beings and lies in the east. Soare, a continent in the west, is composed of three distinct nations: Ashoka, Soto, and Morrim. Lying between the two major continents are the Scattered Isles. Since the dissolution of the pantheon and the fall of the gods, these countries have existed in relative peace and prosperity. But how long will that peace last? Enter Elenlond; Turn the pages and tell your own tale. If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| Unpleasant Introductions; Stranghill is "introduced" to Patrick | |
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| Topic Started: Jul 27 2009, 06:57 PM (50 Views) | |
| Stranghill | Jul 27 2009, 06:57 PM Post #1 |
 
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The hustle and bustle of the town was pleasant enough. Stranghill walked through the town leisurely as people passed him by. The sun was shining down on his human form, making the citizens and visitors of the capital city completely unaware of his true nature. Stranghill was rather pleased with himself at the moment, having just sold off some stolen loot to a fence. Despite being completely exhausted due to his humanity, he was in a surprisingly good mood. Of course, even had he not been, he would have to maintain a cheery outlook so as to not attract attention to himself. This time, though, it was rather easy to do. As he passed the civilians of the city, Stranghill began to wonder what he was going to do next. His informant required a bit more time before he could give him a new job to do, and he had nothing left to fence thanks to the quality of the one he had just used. He had at least one day, perhaps more, depending on the informant's speed, to do absolutely nothing but wait. It annoyed him, but at least he could spend a night with nothing to think about. He would sleep easily. It was with these pleasant thoughts in mind that Stranghill continued walking down the street. |
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| Patrick | Aug 4 2009, 03:34 PM Post #2 |
Pirate
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Being a natural traveler, Patrick had eventually grown tired of Madrid and decided to branch out and explore more of the land. So he took one of the roads out of the city and ended up here in the capitol of Morrim. So far he was actually having a pleasant time, though his idea of a good time generally depended on how much money he was able to steal out of other people’s pockets. Yesterday had been successful enough to purchase a cheap room and a decent meal, so he was satisfied. Today found him spending a good deal of his time scouting. He put a lot of thought into his targets, and today Patrick had his eye on a gentleman with brown hair whom he had recently sold off a bunch of merchandise to a rather shady looking ‘merchant.’ His pockets by now seemed to be aching for relief, and this pirate was more than happy to help lighten the load. Patrick had spent over an hour now with one eye on his target. He had grown fairly good at tailing someone without their noticing, sometimes even walking ahead of the man and using reflections from windows and a small pocket mirror to keep him in sight. He was actually fairly proud of himself for his evasion tactics, though it helped that they were far easier to practice here in a large city than on a ship full of paranoid sailors. Well if he wanted his next meal at a decent hour, Patrick would have to make his move soon. With a sigh, he set down the book he had picked up from a merchant stall and casually turned back to the street just as his prey walked past. Patrick even began to whistle, knowing full well that one of the best ways to be discreet actually had something to do with drawing attention to yourself. Few would believe that the thief was not the dirty, ragged beggar in the gutter but instead the smiling man clad in green who actually had managed to wash himself today, unlike the beggar. It was all about misdirection. So he quickened his pace just enough to draw level with the brown haired man at the same time that they were passing one of the city’s vagabonds. Misdirection. His swift fingers were in and out of the man’s pocket in a second, exchanging several coins for a rock so the change it weight wouldn’t be a problem. Misdirection. He didn’t dare take all of it; that would be far too obvious. Now came the part where all he had to do was slip back into the crowd and disappear. Unfortunately Patrick had yet to learn any illusion or disappearing magic, which would be the ultimate misdirection, so instead he just turned down a side street, wondering how long it would be before the man noticed his missing loot. |
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| Stranghill | Aug 4 2009, 04:14 PM Post #3 |
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It was when Stranghill reached into his pocket, more out of habit than worry, that he realized exactly what had happened. His humanity had dimmed his senses, but not his "thief's wit." He had no means of knowing how long it had been since his gold had been stolen, except that his hands had only been out of his pockets for a short while. He didn't see anyone particularly suspicious, but what he did see was a sharp turn. If Stranghill knew anything about getting away from a theft, and he certainly did, then that was where he would go. Stranghill quickly changed direction and went down the street that had not been too far behind him. The street was far less crowded than the main one, which was bad news for the pickpocket if he had indeed gone down it. Spotting shade, Stranghill stepped into it, regaining his vampiric form. He stayed in the shade, and took the time to eye any and every person who stood out at all. There were a few people who stood out, including a one-eyed man, but Stranghill had no means of recognizing which one was actually the one who had stolen from him. He noticed, though, that they weren't all far from each other, and if he just ran forward . . . "You! Thief! You've no idea who you've stolen from!" Stranghill roared out towards the potential thieves. He drew his daggers without hesitation and began charging towards them, though he purposely made himself seem slow in order to give the real thief time. Though he shifted into his human form once he stepped out of the shade, it didn't matter. He didn't actually planning on fighting. Whoever the real thief was, he would have to be mad or a mind-reader to not run from an armed man who, apparently, had found him out. |
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| Patrick | Aug 7 2009, 08:22 PM Post #4 |
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Pirate
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Patrick slowed his step just a bit when he had gone about half a block down the street, since he had yet to hear any reaction yet to his quick fingers. His hand jingled the new coins in his pocket, and he couldn’t help but smile at himself at a job well done. He might have actually nabbed enough for a couple of days at the cheap tavern that he had stayed at the night before, which was all that he asked for in his daily thievings. He was making his way towards the other end of the alley where the road would once again connect with a main street, which was his current destination. But before he could completely cross the alleyway, a crazy man jumped out of the shadows, brandishing daggers and shouting for a thief. Patrick highly doubted that he was the only thief currently standing on this side street, but he did recognize the man as the one who had so kindly looked the other way when he had stolen the man’s gold. Internally he rolled his eyes; really there were much easier ways to find the real thief. This would get the man nowhere, but it was highly entertaining to the pirate. Patrick drew both of his stiletto knives and began brandishing them, not at the man whom he had stolen from, but at the rest of the lowlifes still in the alley. “Damn to hell whoever has taken from this man! Though I know him not, I stand now by his side in order to find the cretin who has lightened his pockets!” He glared around at the men as well as one could with only a single eye, but he looked all the fiercer for it. He waved his knives at them as threateningly as he could, trying as hard as he could to help the man whom he had stolen from. In a way it sort of worked; the remaining men completely scattered, running in all different directions to get away from the stranger who appeared from the shadows and the pirate now at his side. “Well, I think that went well.” Patrick nodded to the now empty street before them and stowed his stilettos back in their scabbards where they belonged. He had no intention of using them actually; for a pirate he was a dreadful swordsman, but he didn’t like to parade that little fact around if he could avoid it. He turned to the other man with the daggers and offered a hand to shake. “The name’s Patrick. Glad I could help in your hour of need.” On the inside he was trying very hard not to laugh at the situation. |
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| Stranghill | Aug 8 2009, 01:38 PM Post #5 |
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Stranghill turned to face the man who had "aided" him, but not with any sort of gratitude, and clearly refused the handshake. "Who exactly do you think you are?" Stranghill started, keeping his daggers drawn and his stance tense. "You and I both know there isn't a single man here who would stand up for a stranger, so there are a few possibilities, aren't there?" Stranghill began grinding his daggers against each other as he spoke. "The first is that you're one man out of a thousand who has a heart of gold in this damnable city." Stranghill made perfectly clear through his tone that he did not believe this was the case. 'The second is that you know who I am and you're expecting some sort of reward from me." Stranghill tossed one dagger into the air as he said this, catching it quickly in the same hand, then went back to grinding the daggers. "And the third," with this Stranghill stopped grinding his daggers and held them at his waist, "is that you're trying to distract me from something . . ." Stranghill didn't know if this was the case, nor did he know for certain if the first explanation was completely false, but he did know that he still didn't have his money, and this man had been just as much a suspect as the rest of the people who fled. "So, Patrick," his tone for the man's name was quiet yet stern, "perhaps you'd like to tell me exactly what it is you're distracting me from. Of course, there are always other options." Stranghill twisted his blades within his hands once again. He didn't know if this "Patrick" person was any good with those knives of his, but he didn't really hope to start a fight. All he hoped for was his money back. "Because something tells me it was once in my pocket, and it's very eager to come back." Stranghill didn't raise his daggers at all, but he did twist them in his hands to get into his fighting stance. He had absolutely no real proof that this man was the one who had stolen his gold, so it was yet another bluff. However, it was only a bluff in that he was calling him out on a crime he may or may not have committed; Stranghill was perfectly willing to kill the man just to be safe, though he wouldn't do something so drastic just yet. |
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