Answers at the Bottom of a Flagon [Open]

[Deleted]

The man had been there for months. A shadowy and ragged thing that constantly clung to the edges of the main bar of the Tipsy Darkling. He was an odd sort, never speaking up, his gaze constantly cast down at the dregs of whatever drink he had always finished a coin in the other simply waiting to be passed for another. No one knew where he pulled this seemingly endless supply of coin from. None had seen him do any sort of work or ply any trade. Though he was dressed in an extravagant manner his clothes bore the telltale signs of hardship. He caused no trouble and paid for everything he took, including his room, so the Gayle's had no reason to toss him out. Most had simply become accustomed to his presence. He was a fixture in the bar, much like the stools and odd weapons nailed to the stone. Various rumors had begun to circulate about the man. That he was a former noble who was forced to abdicate before the King's Orders or a shipping magnate of similar circumstance. He paid no mind to the whispers, only staring deeply into the flagon grasped in his mangled left hand. 

"The Alliance is gonna take down ol'king Julgrava. You wait and see." "I'm thinking about joining up." "Things are going to get better around here." It was a common enough thing to hear in the tavern these days. Utterings of the hopes of the common man. Alduin Al'asard had none of those notions though. He hated the king just as much as anyone else that walked the halls of the Tipsy Darkling but felt none of the passion they did. Every utterance of their musings only served to prod a wound that had been festering for months. Hope had gotten him into this situation, dreaming of a better world had ruined his and they hadn't even been his dreams. He'd been content with his lot in life, but shehad to go and try and do something good. The words of optimism only brought the half-drokagr a feeling of resentment. Eventually, he simply couldn't take the chatter anymore. 

He overheard a pair of men next to him discussing how their lot in life would change once the Alliance killed the king. Al'asard couldn't contain it anymore. For the first time since arriving at the tavern he broke his silence. A sardonic chuckle wormed its way past his lips as he brought up a nearly empty glass to his mouth. "I wouldn't bet my last ritz on it." The words had come from seemingly nowhere confusing the two men. They exchanged baffled looks with each other before turning to look at Al'asard.

"You sympathize with the king, then? The bastard that's been squeezing us for our life's blood since we was born?" The larger of the two men asked, his eyes narrowing at the haggard drokagr. 

"No, I sympathize with logic and numbers, friend. While I woefully wish to believe the same as you and your compatriot here I, unfortunately, know the truth of things. The king's resources are too vast, his army too big, and his reach too far for this Alliance to do anything."

"What're you trying to say, darkling?" The other man asked, his voice threatening violence. Al'asard was well aware of the threat but couldn't contain himself. He'd been silent for much too long. 

"In the simplest terms, five is larger than one."Al'asard, brought up his hands to prove the point. Splaying out his right and holding up a single finger on his left. "Five Kingdoms coming down on one tiny gaggle of dreamers. That's like saying a sheep is gonna beat five wolves. Possible?"Al'asard gave shrug, "Sure. I suppose anything is possible. Likely? I'd sooner expect it to start raining ale."Al' reached down to take a swig of his ale when a large ham fist struck his temple. The man collapsed to the floor as the other two began to mercilessly kick at him.

---

Story: Fate


Dk030Jkt
Al'asard attempts to fight back against the drunks

---

Al'asard, by some dumb luck was able to grab one of the men's legs and pull them down onto the ground beside him. His flagon still in hand he bashed it into the man's head with all the strength he could muster. His companion was startled by the sudden savagery the lithe man had displayed and momentarily took a stepback. Al'asard used that slight moment of hesitiation to leap from the floor and tackle the man. Al'asard landed with a top the larger man and began to pummel him, his fist slamming into his face in much the same way he had been struck earlier. The man, despite being dazed by several blows to the head, was able to buck wildly and throw Al'asard several feet away. He landed with a resounding thud as the man picked himself up and began his approach.

Al looked about wildly spotting a recently emptied stool. Haphazardly, he gripped it's leg and righted himself. As he got to his feet he swung the stool up, connecting with the man's chin with a sickening crunch. He fell into a heap beside his friend, the stool in Al's hands being no worse for the wear. Al'asard panted as he looked around.Several on lookers looked towards Al'asard, their noses up turned and none offered him aid. He exhaled roughly and spat at the floor, producing a thick glob of blood and phlegm, before setting the stool down at the bar and taking up a seat on it. 

"Gayle, another please." he said solemnly producing another coin.

[Allyria Allenmorde]

-Sometime in Orazos.

People tend to not notice a Forgotten if the Forgotten doesn't want to be seen. Especially if that one is capable of casting glamours, like Allyria was. She had dropped it after the bar room brawl and surveyed the waste of men lying about the floor from her table. The tavern didn't serve drink she was use to drinking. Just the regular beers that the people had available and others tolerated. She was clad in her leather armor, and draped in her tattered and weary cloak, which was now maroon in color. The frays seemed to remain as they were, as if they could not unravel any further. Over her face now was a mask, a black metal plate over the lower half of her face with red fangs painted on it. Her eyes shone from the darkness of her cloak as crimson.

She gestured for one of the bar maids to come to her. The waif came and lent her ear, and Allyria spoke.

"Send that man over here. The one at the bar."

"Aye ma'am."

Out from under her cloak she'd produce a bottle of Vortalcino Black, and two glasses. Upon the table already was a silver flute with etchings carved into it. Her buckler leaned against the scythe behind her, which leaned upon the window and sill. Dangling from her neck was a beautiful amulet of intertwining silver crescents. Before he could come over she was overcome by coughs racking her body. Blood poured from under her mask and dribbled onto her lap. The plague had it out for her this time. She cursed it, clutching her chest as she continued to cough, practically drowning in her own lungs.

---

Hacklung Roll:
Resist: None Active
Threshold: 10
xwAoITEG

HP: 1080/1200 -120

Rolling to Recover: Vitality 60
·

[Deleted]

Al'asard was content to sulk in silence as he awaited his drink. He didn't have a reason for speaking as he did beyond the fact that he was in a foul mood and simply wanted to spread his venom. It was petty, he knew it, but he simply didn't care. That essentially defined the last few months of his life. He just couldn't find it in him to care anymore. The loss of Marden, his life, and his home had sapped the resolve from him. It had planted a seed of apathy and spite that fed upon itself and the constant downpour of ale. He hadn't cared if the men had beaten to a pulp or that he had somehow managed to fight off two at once. In the grand scheme of things, it meant nothing. Al'asard sighed deeply as he looked up as a figure approached him. It was a barmaid, one of Gayle's daughters, a familiar face that soothed the need to lash out if only slightly. She bore no drink in her hand though, simply a message and a finger directed toward a garbed figure. Al'asard arched a brow in confusion as he looked towards the lone shadow amidst the other side of the bar, a near mirror of himself. Something in his blood sang to him as he looked upon them, a dull thrum that told him of their shared blood and kindred nature. 

"They asked for you." The words were softly spoken as the girl looked at the beaten man. Blood trickled from his mouth and already bruises began to show even amid his dark hide. He gave a slight nod.

"Thank you, sweetheart... Tell your father I'm sorry about the commotion. It won't happen again." he said, offering her a fanged smile that failed to reach his eyes. The man pushed himself up from his stool, stumbling slightly as he tried to gain his balance. Between the drink and beating he received he was surprised he didn't topple over but by some miracle, he was able to keep his feet firmly planted on the ground. He walked toward the other Drokagr and gave pause when he witnessed them enter a coughing fit. Bloody spittle dribbled from beneath their mask and for a moment Al'asard was reminded of his father. He remembered the man in a similar manner, bedridden trying his best not to cough his lungs out while his son watched him, always hoping for his father's recovery. Al felt a pang of some nearly forgotten emotion as he approached.

Al reached into the confines of his coat and removed a cream colored handkerchief that was surprisingly devoid of the filth that covered the rest of him. Woven from spider silk the cloth bore the initials A.A. He presented it to the other as he stood before them, not pulling up a chair, but remaining close enough that he signified his interest in their attention. "You called for me," he said, his voice adopting a more docile and pleasant tone than the blunt and deadpan manner which he had used earlier. He looked over the person before him, his amber eyes absorbing their odd dress. Though, to be fair, he was dressed rather oddly himself.

---

Hacklung Roll:
Resist: None Active
Threshold: 10

_l7LAdxT

Pass

[Allyria Allenmorde]

She waved the handkerchief away as she soon recovered from the coughing fit. She wiped the blood from herself and gestured for him to sit. Regardless if he did or not she'd pour him a glass of the Vortalcino Black, which was a dark blue wine that was very sweet and dry. Her glowing crimson eyes took measurement of the man before her. He was huge compared to her. It made her feel small for a second, but she remembered what she could do to someone. She remembered what she could do to an army. The sorceress sat back down before speaking in her native tongue. A wild assumption that the male shared it in this case.

"Waeswal arudin Av'Telle'Korasus?"

Any Tidings from Telle'Korasus?-

Then she poured herself a glass of the wine and took a sip of it. Somehow, without removing the mask, without spilling any.

---

Rolling to recover: 60
O|0xa6Jo
-10, Success.

[Deleted]

Al'asard would have remained standing if it had not been for the healthy dose of wine offered to him. The first rule of negotiating was to never appear too eager. Casting the illusion that one was ready to walk away at a moments notice was a spectacular advantage and one that Al'asard lost as soon as the tinkling of glass upon glass reached his ears. With all the grace the inebriated gentleman could muster he pulled out his chair with a flourish, took up a seat, and drained half the glass with only a few fluid motions. A content sigh passed his lips as he reveled in the taste of the Vortalcino Black. He couldn't place the vintage, but to be fair he hadn't exactly savored the rich bouquet the wine offered. He was more concerned with getting as much of it into his stomach as he could before the awkward meeting between the two Drokagr ended. A wine such as this was currently outside his means. Buying a bottle would place a serious dent in his already dwindling funds. The chance to share a bottle for free was something he could have only wished for. Al's revelry was short lived though as the woman, and upon closer inspection, Al'asard was sure that she was a woman, spoke to him in his father's native tongue.

Al'asard's expression soured for a moment and his lips pressed together in a moment of irritation. Nearly every Drokagr from the motherland always assumed that he spoke their tongue. It had been a common occurrence his entire life one that he had grown used to. In his current state, he couldn't help but feel some sort of agitation. To the man's credit, he quickly reigned in his emotions, smoothing the foul mood from his visage with another lung emptying sigh. "I apologize," he began, setting the glass down upon the table with the softest of clatters. "I don't speak a single word of Drokagr. I've never even see Korasus." The statement was superfluous but Al'asard felt the need to add it as if it somehow exonerated him from being ignorant of his own culture. He knew little of his people and their customs. Simply that they bore a matriarchal government and were known to be quite charitable. That was all he'd ever learned from his father. He never spoke of his home or the language he'd grown up speaking. Al'asard had never even heard him swear in Drokagr. The entire subject of his race was something he'd never put much stock in. What did it matter what he was when he was starving on the streets? What did it matter when he was one of the most influential men in the Bank of Sorath? What did it even matter now that he was drunk and penniless? 

The only time his race had even come into play was when he'd been forced to flee from Fordeth because of the Sorcerer-King's Decree. Al tipped the rest of his glass back in a poor attempt to wash away the train of thoughts that began to consume him. "I am quite fluent in Cruic though." Al'asard drew the conclusion that the woman was able to speak the more common tongue since she was able to ask the barmaid to bring him over. "I'd be more than happy to answer any questions you have if I have the knowledge. I fear that won't be much though as I'm a bit outside my element at the moment. I could recommend a nice pairing to go along with the Vortalcino. The 'Mander Sandwich, while not exactly befitting of such a wine, would go marvelously with it. Beyond that, I know little else." Al'asard leaned forward as he spoke, propping his right elbow upon the table and resting the side of his face within his hand. The fingers of his left hand played across the now empty glass, circling its rim idly.

---

Hacklung Roll:
Resist: None Active
Threshold: 20
wNLVYp0o
Pass

[Allyria Allenmorde]

Allyria realized her misstep as soon as he spoke up that he didn't catch a word of what she said. She rectified it by speaking in the common Cruic for the rest of the evening. This wasn't a problem for her at all. She was proficient in the language, even if she did have a distinctive Korasuan accent and failed to understand some idioms. When he had finished with his recommendations as to pairing the wine and what not she merely chuckled.

"Then there's no need to repeat the question. My apologies. I shouldn't assume. Just was hoping for some news from home. You seem quite educated for one of our kind not from Korasus or further underground."

The sorceress mulled some thoughts over, and allowed him a response before she would say anything again. She picked up her glass again and drank, keeping an eye on the male during the exchange. She was brought up believing that men couldn't be trusted in normal society. They had a hard time keeping control over themselves and even with the best upbringing, dark thoughts would enter into their minds and take control of their behavior at times. Men that couldn't control themselves were punished severely in her culture. They learned to not act on that behavior. They learned that base behavior wasn't welcome in a civilized society.

"Have you ever wanted to go? See the silver spire, be among your own kind? It will do wonders for your health."

This statement would have seemed ironic as she immediately burst into another coughing fit, bleeding from under her mask as she tried to suppress it and recover herself. Which she managed after a moment.

"My apologies, it appears this damnable plague would like to render me dead."

---

Hacklung Roll:
Resist: None Active
Threshold: 10
2l69xEf0

HP: 990/1200

Rolling to Recover: 60
·

[Deleted]

Al'asard gave an offhanded shrug at the mention of his upbringing. "I suppose I was more fortunate than others in that regard. My father and mother were both well educated and saw to it that I was brought up properly. Taught me to read, write, and do sums." It also covered a broad scope of topics pertaining to economics and basic bookkeeping but Al'asard didn't see any reason to give the woman an entire recount of his education. "The only subject that my parents glossed over was my father's homeland, Korasus." Al'asard watched the woman in return feeling his eyes upon her. She was odd, calling him over simply because they shared the same blood. The air about her was rather mysterious though. The mask, her accent, the way she carried herself it was all a mystery and even in his partially inebriated state he was intrigued. Who was this woman? She wasn't just some run of the mill patron to the Tipsy Darkling. She was something more. The wine had enticed him to sit but his curiosity is what made him stay.

"Visit? No, I can't say that I've ever had the desire to visit or frolick with the other Drokagr. From what I was told by my father is that men of our race are held to a certain standard. I'm not sure that I'd be able to live up to those expectations even for a short amount of time. If I went to the homeland  I'd end up offending someone's sensitivities or saying something scandalously out of line. I'm sure that would be detrimental to my health, no matter what vigor I might feel being among them." Al'asard cracked a thin smile, his words spoken in half jest. He knew without even visiting Korasus that he would grate under the rules and expectations placed upon him. Men, from what his father said, were little more than beasts of burden, manual laborers who were expected to fall in line. Some rare circumstances would see some elevated to more envious positions but most simply lived mining, working trades, or simply lifting heavy objects. For an intellectual like his father, that was unacceptable. It was what spurred him to leave and take up resident in Morith. 

Al'asard frowned as he watched the woman go into a coughing fit once more. "It's alright. I've gotten pretty used to the sound of coughing. Near everyone in the bar goes into fits. Sometimes all at once, it's funny in a morbid sort of way." Al looked towards the center of the room and watched as several others worked to stifle their coughs and some wiped away blood from their chins. "Elkagr and Drokagr, supposedly we're supposed to be damn near immortal but even we've caught this blasted plague. It makes me wonder..." Al'asard trailed off in his musings.

---

Hacklung Roll:
Resist: None Active
Threshold: 30
cwZEySFn
Pass

---

  He felt a tickle at the back of his own throat but was able to suppress it. "My name is Al'asard." he informed the woman, suddenly remembering his manners. It was the first time he'd given his name to anyone in months. Even the owners of the inn didn't know it. They simply referred to him as the Duke. A joke stemming from his once fine clothes and seemingly endless supply of coin. "What brings you to the surface? Sightseeing or are you here on business? Alliance maybe?"

Allyria Allenmorde

[Allyria Allenmorde]

Allyria sighed. This person was completely oblivious to what life was like in Korasus. It was advanced compared to the village that the innorsforders lived in. Gleaming spires, a justice system that worked and worked and worked consistently. Magic improving the quality of life among the citizens.

It had some problems. Like heatwaves. But she marveled at its construction every time she looked at it.

"Mm, nice to meet you al'Asard. You can call me Scarlet. I'm here because of the alliance. They're afraid of me."

She felt like another fit might be coming on again, but it had passed her by without any trouble. Seeking an end to this disease was also important. It would kill thousands before the month was over. People were starting to die in droves. It would be worse in the high population areas. Like Fordeth for example.

Looking on the brighter side, perhaps the plague would kill enough of every one to render the war a foolish gamble on both sides.

Focusing on economic and academic development would be a nice shift instead of thinking about war.

---

Hacking roll: 10
VhhlIX7|
52, resisted.

[Deleted]

"That you are," Al'asard said, offhandedly commenting about her name. The woman was completely garbed in arterial colors that gave credence to her moniker. He figured the name to be a pseudonym of sorts. It wasn't common for the Drokagr to bear a Cruinthian name, even Al'asard's name evoked memories of the kingdom of outcasts. What drove her to conceal her identity? It wasn't as if Al'asard would have recognized her real name if she had given it. Did she fear that he might give it to someone who might be looking for her or was it simply easier to give out a false name to those who didn't need to know her? Whatever the reasons Al bore no ill will towards her for her secrecy. He was used to moving in circles that required secrecy. It was the nature of his business or at least it had been. The mention of the Alliance fearing her piqued his interests more than her desire to hide her name. 

"Oh, is that right?" he said, still slumped over in his seat, finger still incessantly circling the lip of his drained glass. "Have you come to alleviate their fears of you by chance?" To his knowledge, the Alliance didn't fear much. They were insane enough to declare war against a man who had raised a mountain and held a kingdom for over two centuries. What did this petite and mysterious woman possess that caused the ragtag groups of the Alliance to worry? "Or are you here to reinforce their reasons to worry... No, I guess that wouldn't make much sense. You wouldn't be idling about in here if that were the case. If I were here to put the fear in them I'd try and make it quick, efficient. No dawdling about or chatting it up with the town drunk." Al'asard gestured to himself indicating that he was the proud owner of the title. He certainly smelled of it. The scent of stale ale and wine permeated his very being. Despite that and being partially intoxicated at the moment he seemed to have his wits about him. "That's simply me. You could very well be playing the long game, hoping to make your appearance known for a time, making them sweat before finally appearing before them. Both methods are perfectly acceptable." he said with a nod more to himself than Scarlet. Whatever the man's mental state was he seemed to like to ramble, prattling on about whatever seemed to pop into his head. 

---

Hacklung Roll:
Resist: None Active
Threshold: 40
jpU0kIi_
Fail

HP: 200-20= 180

Roll to recover: Vitality 10

---

Al'asard jerked upward with no warning as he entered a coughing fit of his own. He covered his mouth as flecks of blood stained his already ruined clothing. It mingled with the wounds he suffered from his previous fight and trailed from the corners of his mouth. Just as suddenly as it had come on it ceased, leaving his chest aching and head spinning. He reached into his coat and pulled out the same silken cloth he had offered to Scarlet. Without ceremony he stained the virgin white cloth a soft shade of red, wiping the blood from his mouth. "Damn pestilence, it was the death of my father and now it seems as if it'll be the death of me." Al'asard stared at the cloth for a time, needing the moistened fabric between his slender fingers.

Allyria Allenmorde·

[Allyria Allenmorde]

"Hahaha. I'm glad you approve of my dastardly methods!"

She laughed for a second until the man across from her started to cough. Apparently he had caught the disease as well. That was unfortunate. She had hoped that perhaps Innorsford remote location would afford it some sort of protection against the plague. She knew that was a naive hope. Her own county had become infect and it was as remote as things got in Cruinthe. She felt a little sad for the man in front of her and for the people of Innorsford. Many of them would die. Apparently like his father. The coughs had projected the smell of alcohol wafting off of him into her face. She stifled her own little cough at the smell. The man could use a bath, and to sober up. And perhaps work to take his mind off things.

"Sorry to hear that about your father. Don't panic, just trying to help. Despite your status as town drunk, you don't seem to want to die."

The sorceress let a moment of silence pass before working some minor magic on him. She reached out with the power and stitched the diseased flesh in his lungs back together, healing him for better or worse. Once she had finished she considered answer his question about her purpose there. Perhaps now the reasons why the Alliance was afraid of her was becoming apparent. Sorcery was scary.

"I'm here to do neither, to be honest. They can fear me or not, their choice. Their purpose aligns with mine for now. Removing the current tyrannical regime that is aiming to eliminate our race and perhaps everything else is enough for now. If they manage to set up some semblance of good government afterwards: so be it. If it descends into chaos again afterwards: so be it. I'm more of an independent party. I don't need them. They can be afraid of what I might do to them if they get in my way, but that isn't my problem."

---

Mend Wounds
-Heals for 50 HP
-Halves bleeding effect.
-MP Cost: 10

*Thaumaturgy III, Healing I*

Actions
-Mend Wounds @ Alduin Al'asard

Hacklung Roll: 20
u545PjKh

[Deleted]

The woman's apology baffled Al'asard for a moment. She was partially correct. He didn't want to die but neither did he really care if he kept on living. His entire purpose for being had been ripped away from him not just once but twice. He'd lost his family at eight and only months ago he lost the closest thing he'd ever had to replacing them. The King saw to it that the home in which he'd lost both was all but lost to him adding salt to the festering wounds. No, he didn't want to die but he was awaiting in, passing the time in a comfortably numb stupor that only blessed drink could bring. That stupor was quickly pushed back and replaced with fear as Al'asard felt a foreign feeling was over him. His breath caught in his throat as he looked to Scarlet, his amber eyes wide. Sorcery, the act of breathing became easier but in his momentary panic, he'd forgotten how to breathe. Al'asard had come face to face with spell casters more than he cared to admit but even mages needed financial advice. It dulled the blow of the revelation slightly and with the thought in mind, Al'asard managed to suck in a deep breath. He worked to smooth his expression but he feared he still showed his amazement and discomfort openly. 

Sorcery was indeed scary.

"Your reasons are surprisingly practical. Boring in comparison to what I thought they were, but practical." Al said, attempting to make light of the situation. "I think it's the same train of thought that the four groups had when they decided to band together. Enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that," he said as he took a more comfortable position in his chair. The moment of fright he'd felt had helped to further clear the fumes of inebriation from his mind. "I highly doubt that they'll have anything close to a competent government when things are all said and done. Hells, I'd be surprised if there wasn't another war as soon as this one ends. If the lot just so happen to pull off this miraculous victory I'm sure there will be all sorts of infighting as to how the realms of the lands are to be divvied up, where the recompense for the damages will come from, and all sorts of bureaucratic buffoonery. My uneducated guess would be that instead of one lunatic holding power we'll have four factions scrambling to grab as much as they can. It's the nature of men to want and covet. If they have some accords already struck I'll bet you another bottle of Vortalcino Black that they'll be chucked out the window or ignored by at least one group." Al'asard said, gaining eloquence and insight as the conversation seemed to continue. "More factions will likely come out of the woodwork. Those afraid to stand against Julgrava but having no second thoughts against facing other mortals.

"That's all just speculation though." Al'asard waved his hand before his face, dismissing his ramblings as if he was clearing a cloud of smoke. "The drink has gone to my head and when that happens it makes me say crazy things." There was no need for him to spout his theories and summations. He was content living out his life in silence but the chance to have a conversation had sparked something in him. A dull flicker of life that he had been trying his best to suppress if not outright snuff out. It had been a long time since he had said more than "a drink, please."

---

Hacklung Roll:
Resist: None Active
Threshold: 10
0hgC6sfF
Pass


Allyria Allenmorde

[Allyria Allenmorde]

"You're probably right though. People have a hard time holding it together even when there's a common enemy to be fought. When there isn't one they splinter like a thousand year old support beam, ready to bring the whole building down on everyone's head. I intend to be around still after the building collapses."

She poured herself and Alduin another glass of the Vortalcino Black. The conversation had turned good. Her gamble had paid off. Now if she could find a use for this person. Something that would suit him. No one liked to receive a hand out, despite the Drokagr Initiative tending to do so.

"You seem to be inclined to still be around once the building has collapsed. I have a proposal for you if you don't mind hearing it. You can of course accept or decline. Your choice. But it'll come with reward."

If he seemed willing to hear her proposal she'd take a sip and clear her throat, staving off the disease that was attempting to wrestle control of her fate from her. Her eyes smiled behind the mask as she began to describe what the job was.

"I have a meeting to go to today and then I plan on leaving this town. I can't be in two places at once. There's a small farm near here that is supposedly haunted. An acquaintance of mine had recently been there and searched the place. Apparently she and her companions came across several magical objects. I doubt they found everything. I'll pay you five hundred marks now... I mean Ritz, and five hundred when you return from the farm with a written account of your experience. You'll also allow me to examine any magical objects you seize from the ruin for cataloging. You can keep anything you find. I'm interested in the knowledge but I don't have time to plunder it myself."

---

Hacklung Roll: 30
QOXJsB56 54
Resisted

[Deleted]

"Resilience and tenacity are two of the few redeeming qualities I have about me." Al'asard smiled remembering a conversation he'd had with a close friend. "The ruins of the old make a wonderful foundation for something new, something better." 

Al'asard gave pause to the offer of work. It had been a long time since he had done anything honest. Since his departure from Morith he'd been performing a string of petty thefts to support himself. The offer of one thousand full ritz for a job was something he should have jumped at. He hesitated though. He took his glass in hand and swirled the blue liquid, sloshing it against its glass confines. Magic was something he was unaccustomed to and walking through a farmhouse that was supposedly haunted didn't sit well with him. His hesitation was understandable but so was his inevitable agreement. After all, a thousand ritz was a great deal of money and compared to what Al'asard had in his pocket it was a veritable fortune. Enough money for him to swallow his fear and run head long into the unknown. "I never fancied myself an adventurer, Miss Scarlet, always more of a businessman, an intellectual. I suppose with all the changes going around in the world it's only fitting that I change as well." Al paused and took a short draught from his glass instead of draining it as he had done earlier, showing more restraint. "I graciously accept your offer of employment and agree to your terms."


There was no haggling or negotiation. No indication that he might have taken the original sum and run off with it. Something that was very unlike the old Al'asard. As he had said, the world was changing and, at least for the moment, he had to adapt to it. Braving the wilds and wonders of the world had never appealed to him but maybe it could be a source of ritz that could help him get back up on his feet or at least keep him in coin long enough to drink himself into the grave. They were both fine options in his opinion. He reached across the table, offering his right hand in a gesture to seal the deal. "I shall account for everything your associates might have overlooked and provide you with a detailed account of my findings. This I swear.

---

Hacklung Roll:

Resist: None Active

Threshold: 20
sbMoBe8y
Pass

Allyria Allenmorde

[Tyr]

Hacklung roll. Threshold 20.
PkIa5Z0r 4, failure.
Autosuccess to recover.

---

Innorsford had seen better days, but with their open invitation for help it might one day see them again. Tyr was acting as both planner and laborer, assisting with the local efforts in restoring the infrastructure, and of course benefactor. Providing materials, money, and effort was the least he could do for the people here. The work day had been long and brutal, but working on civic projects was its own reward. With the searing sun finally dropping below the horizon most had returned to their homes, while Tyr went to visit the local inn. A good meal, bath, and eventually sleep would be in order.

As the Duke entered the tavern he took a deep breath to shake off the aching in his muscles, and found his lungs lit on fire from the effort. He grabbed the nearest table for support, nearly cracking the wood with the strength of his hands, and was wracked with coughs. Tyr shook off the fit after a few moments, wiping blood from his mouth and taking stock of the room. A few pieces of furniture were slightly out of place, making a hole in one area, with a glob of blood and spit by the bar. On the other side was Allyria with an unknown, and outside had been two individuals nursing rather interesting injuries. Had he missed the bar fight already? In true outgoing fashion Tyr waved to Allyria and wandered over, interjecting himself to the paused conversation. It seemed like something important had just happened.

"Evening all, had an eventful night of drinking already?" Tyr would motion to the nearest barmaid and his normal order would be prepared. Now here's a face I'm unfamiliar with. Name's Tyr, who might you be?" He didn't like introducing himself as a Duke immediately, it tended to alter the conversation. How could you get a measure of someone's character if they were hiding behind formalities? Of course, here he was just butting into what might have been a private meeting but people seemed to enjoy his presence so that never really occurred to him. Dressed in worker's garb it shouldn't give too much away, and the staff had long since dropped most of the formalities by his constant insistence.

[Allyria Allenmorde]

"Good. Here is the first half."

Out from inside the woman's cloak came five rolls of gold coins. They were wrapped in parchment. Each parchment was labeled with the numbers that indicated ten. Then came another five rolls. And another, and another. Until there were fifty rolls of coins on the table. The rolls were stacked in a manner that was easy to move about, several on the base, then fewer at the top until there was one resting upon all the others. The Duke Mardok had walked in and started speaking while she began to set these rolls out.

"You have excellent timing, Tyr. This is Alduin Al'Asard. He is going to check out that haunted farm for me while I go to this meeting the leadership of the alliance wants to have with me. You remember Morith. Apparently that was upsetting. Anyway, he could use your help. Tyr is a master crafstman you see. He tends to like to charge people favors over gold, though. I doubt you want to walk around with this much coin in your pocket though."

Allyria began to bring another glass out of somewhere in her cloak. How much crap could she carry in that thing? Did its contents never cease? Did it just hold object after object? How strange it was. She placed it in front of Tyr and poured him a bit of the Vortalcino Black.

"Fine drink, for a fine friend. I got your letter. I'll be heading to the library after this meeting."

She started coughing after her statement. More blood dribbled out of her mouth. This was getting out of hand today. She regained her composure after a brief fit.

---

Hacklung: 40
aIxSpfbN

Recovery: 60
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