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Post by Flanwaw on Dec 23, 2015 9:08:02 GMT
Cayden Cailean would claim the only true miracle in this world is the miracle of hard liquor. Jacob and Phelan had thoroughly tested the veracity of this divine truth last night at Mrs. Tahlberts well worn bar counter. Considering the occasion Jabob's Mother had extended the one-free-drink privilege of the brotherly guards to include half-a-dozen shots of the hardest liquor on tap - it had been Foundation day after all, first day of the new year; the only official holiday on the calendar as far as Absalom was concerned. Though the Jury is still very much out about Cayden's theological assertions whatever Jacob had sampled last night had proved at the very least miraculous enough to make the last few hours of Foundation day something to not-be-remembered. As far as Jacob's permanently scarred brain was concerned the next thing to happen in his life after the third shot cleared his liver would be the dull light of morning agonizing his closed eyes, a terrible sense of oxygen deprivation, and the familiar feeling of a cruel-hearted bastard pinching his nose shut. It's also quite difficult for Jacob to ignore the considerable headache and general rebelliousness of his guts. ( Fatigued due to Hangover.) (Make me a Perception and a Survival Check please - record the results in the Roll section.)
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Elginsh
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Post by Elginsh on Dec 23, 2015 10:11:02 GMT
Jacob woke up rudely. Snorted through his nose as a sign of life, and to get the other person to relinquish it. He attempted to slowly clamber to his feet, regretting a number of life decisions.
"The hell Phelan, water works fine and doesn't hurt as much", he croaked through his dried mouth "Speaking of water, do you have any?"
He groaned a little more as he attempted to sort himself out. Most of the groaning was half muttered curses against whatever forces made liquor do this to your head. While sorting his own person out he decided to look around, as he was definitely not sure where he was. Last thing he remembered was drinking in The Longshoreman and he didn't remember that being a building that let a lot of light in. Matter of fact, if he recalled correctly, most of the window shutters were stuck closed.
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Post by Flanwaw on Dec 23, 2015 12:51:06 GMT
Phelan was the sort of friend who kept on pinching Jacob's nose just a little bit longer than necessary, and only relented with a big shit eating grin. "Aye, Jacob - but unless you want bay water, it was either a cold wakeup or a cold drink." The scarred flesh on his face and arm twisting unnaturally as he holds out his waterskin, "And I figured you'd be thirstier than a dwarf outta ale.". Phelan stood well over Jacob, even after Jacob got himself to his feet there was over a head of distance between them - like Jacob he was in full gear; a heavy one handed club dangling underneath the more lethal alternative of a longsword, better secured on his hip. The morning air was unseasonably cold and Phelan had the thick cloak of the Dock guard pulled up close to him; tied tight down to the stomach. Unfortunately, Phelan's mug was the most familiar part of Jacob's wake up call - though he was able to immediately recognize where he was and that it nearly noon. Jacob found himself waking up in one of the open storehouses propped against the guard's headquarters, surrounded by barrels and crates full of basic supplies. Though really the structure was more of a wooden lean-too providing just enough shelter to shield the supplies from the weather. Behind him sat the three-story edifice of the guard house - an imposing and well made structure of wood and stone. The headquarters was built halfway on hard land and halfway on a drydocks - it had its own private dock dedicated to the guard skiffs used to patrol the waters for smugglers and the businesses of crime that were often conducted on small bay boats in the dead of night. Ahead of him was the low stone wall that surrounded the headquarter's courtyard, providing some small privacy and defense to drilling guards or supply movement in the open terrain (as well as passed-out-drunk guards sleeping in storehouses). To his right, outside the storehouse the courtyard gave way to the dockside, and to his left loomed the city of Absalom in all of its glory, shadowed by the sun. Even this early in the day, and with the cold misty morning Jacob could see the Spire of Nex, the First Keep, and the Starstone Cathedral dominating the skyline. Phelan rested his hand on his blade and looked over Jacob with triumph. "After we had our drinks you started complaining about missing morning patrol," he scratched his nose, with a suggestive movement of the hips, "and, well, I'd found myself some company worth paying for." He turned to look up at the guardhouse, "But, as ya know it, not an hour before I make it back to my bed the green bitch starts screaming about the damn morning patrol... not that it realized the entire guard had missed morning by a mile... i'm just surprised I actually found yah, heh, and that you even made it back." Smelling of stale alcohol and unwashed uniform (though it's tough to tell if it's Phelan or Jacob), Phelan rolls his jaw and says, "So... ready for the morning patrol?"
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Elginsh
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Post by Elginsh on Dec 28, 2015 7:46:22 GMT
Jacob leered at his friend for the pinch and stupid grin. He took the waterskin and swished the first sip, spitting out the morning muck. He then proceeded to guzzle several large gulps. Gasping for breath after chugging an unnecessary amount of water he looked over the wall towards the city skyline.
"I assume since you're so pleased with your previous nights company you're ready to head out right now?" he asked while checking over his person to make sure everything was still buckled into the right place.
After assuring himself he had all of his possessions he rubbed his temples to attempt to sooth the pounding headache.
"I'm going to go fill my waterskin and then we can head out", he shivered as he pulled his cloak tighter, and wondered to himself how he had slept through the cold night.
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Post by Flanwaw on Dec 28, 2015 11:25:48 GMT
Phelan snatched back his waterskin and peered into it's mouth with a scowl, "Hey! You bastard now I gotta fill er up too" he snorted, looking just a little concerned despite himself "by Cayden how level'd ARE you?"
As Jacob searched himself, finding nothing out of place due to some miraculous twist of luck, Phelan said, "Aye aye, i'm more ready to head now than you I'd wager. Ain't going to stop yah though, is it? May as well come with yah and top myself off." Phelan's old tic was to scratch at his scars when he disguised a real question as a hypothetical - Jacob had been with him long enough to know it... and it didn't fail here.
Jacob knew that the fresh water pumps were plentiful around here - say what you will about Absalom, Aroden did a damn good job at engineering the place when he magic'd it into existence. There was a fresh water pump nearly every couple blocks, and the city was - in most districts - exacting about their cleanliness. The closest pump would be right next to the main gate in and out of the guard station courtyard - right on the way out onto the boardwalk.
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Elginsh
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Post by Elginsh on Dec 28, 2015 12:55:28 GMT
Jacob beelined for the water pump at the main gate. Once he had started walking and a slight breeze caught his face he snapped even more awake.
"Right. I'm on patrol now. I watch for trouble", he muttered to himself as he started walking.
Even though he was inside the gates he already began scanning the area for any trouble. Anything out of place. The guard headquarters were no foreigner to suspicious deals, and he partially accepted that as a matter of act thing, but he still found it distasteful.
"Phelan, don't forget, we're already on the look out for ne'er-do-wells. Keep your eyes peeled, even in our 'home' ", he called back to his friend.
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Post by Flanwaw on Dec 28, 2015 13:26:52 GMT
The water was easy enough for Jacob and Phelan to collect, the pumps, as ever, were functional and untampered with - penalties were significant for tampering with a pump and there was little chance for profit, so to the great benefit of the people of Absalom their drinking water was safe.
As Jacob patrolled around the headquarters and began walking out into the streets of Absalom they were far more empty than usual - those few souls that strolled the streets were tired looking dockworker or teamster shifting crates, clearly shaking off their own hangovers and counting down the hours until next year's Foundation day. Elsewise it was terribly quiet for Absalom, one could even hear the sound of water slapping boardwalk over the city sounds.
Phelan looked a little cloudy, grunting, "No self respecting thug'll be out about now - they'll all be passed out in their own sick," he grinned and jabbed Jacob in the side with a finger, "sort of like you were."
Even late into noon, it wasn't uncommon for the streets to be near-empty after Foundation day - people had to sleep off the party, hell, even after a while of searching about Jacob didn't see a single other guard walking the streets. Not even a single yelling match between the Devil's Own thugs and the Sea King's boys.
The worst crimes Jacob was able to spot as he walked the streets, smelling of last night, was a bit of public drunkenness and loitering - and those were as common in the Docks as sea water and sailors. Though, technically... still a crime few guards bothered to prosecute it unless they were using it as an excuse for something else. Phelan certainly didn't seem to care. Though Jacob certainly may.
"Hey, Jacob" he'd say, speaking a little quietly despite the lack of crowds, "Don't suppose we could take a quick sweep around the Seed Bed?" He scratched his scars, "I, uh - I need to pop in for some business real quick - should only take a second... uh." He coughed, "That company worth paying for is still waiting for, heh... some of that pay." To Jacob's amazement, even Phelan was capable of being sheepish.
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Elginsh
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Post by Elginsh on Dec 29, 2015 7:55:26 GMT
Jacob was surprised at how empty the streets were. At the same time he wasn't, he had lived in this district his whole life, and knew better than to expect trouble the morning after Foundation Day. At Phelan's request to stop by Jacob's least favorite area, Jacob sneered at his friend.
"You know my opinion's on that place. You know how likely I am to go there. You're lucky its quiet, I'm hungover, and you're my friend", with the last portion of his list Jacob acquiesced and began walking towards the Seed Bed.
On the way he still maintained his vigilant watch over The Docks. Pausing at every alleyway to peer around for vagrants. If any person, more than likely hungover from the festivities was discovered, Jacob would merely nudge them awake and point them towards the nearest water pump. Vagrancy was bad, but dealing with paperwork and drunks was too much to deal with while still hungover himself.
"Phelan if you come back outside and ask to borrow some silver again, you'll get a knock from my mace instead of a single bent copper", he would warn his friend when they arrived.
Upon arrival at the Seed Bed, Jacob would take his usual position leaning on the doorway outside. If any women were near the front he would begin his usual preaching of a hard days work being better for your health than a day of work involving getting things hard.
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Post by Flanwaw on Dec 29, 2015 17:32:39 GMT
"Bah, I just figured you're sneakier than you let on, Jacob," Phelan said, looking infinitely happy to have convinced his friend of this little detour. "But thanks, and, uh - i'll be quick about it."
The walk towards the seedbed took them off the boardwalk up onto the main street of the Docks. Broad and heavily paved for mass transport it stretched in a continuous line from the Puddles to the Precipice quarters with offshoots to every bordering district; even it lacked any great deal of traffic - by foot or cart. The street was flanked mostly by large tenement apartments and the more reputable sorts of businesses; bakers, butchers, inns, clothiers, and all the many like. The large storerooms and warehouses were closer to the boardwalk, for easy access to the great bay. But perhaps more disconcerting, the walk took them underneath one of the elevated sections of Misery Row, a wood and iron bridge which stretched over the docks and was referred to, with a sort of spiteful hyperbole as "evil's shadow" as none appreciated the shadow it cast over its little section of the main road, and few appreciated what it represented. Even now, as most the city slept, muffled cries and harsh orders barked by slavers could be heard through the bridge floor as one passed beneath it. Phelan, for all his hate and vitriol spat at the floor as they passed underneath it, and despite some of his more questionable characteristics, cast a sincerely hateful glance at the thing and cursed it loudly. It had been about an hour's walk to get to Misery Row, with just less than an hour left to get to the Seed Bed.
A few poor souls, sleeping off the festivities, were strewn beneath the-hanging bridge, in drunken instinct finding the shelter its shadow cast as a place that lacked prying eyes. Jacob managed to spot some and with a sharp nudge and directions to fresh water most of them scampered off - seeing the chained anchor of the guards on Jacob's cloak. One thought, wasn't so polite.
"Fuck, mate" came a gravelly female voice from underneath a pile of yellow cloth wrapping, a single leg, heavily tattooed down to the calf and wearing high wooden sandals kicking out at Jacob's nudging hand, "wake me up when we're 'spose to move out." Her voice was heavily groggy, and whoever she was she twisted and rolled away from Jacob's nudge from underneath her pile of yellow blankets - though it was visible as little more than ruffling underneath the yellow cloth pile. "Sun aint even up..." She began to snore again, loudly.
Phelan snorted at the display, "Charming.". Phelan began reaching for his wooden club, unstrapping it - he was never the sort to take slights to their authority, even unintentional ones, idly.
Though the day was slowly beginning to warm up the streets around here were still sparse, especially after clearing out most of the vagrants. Through a few 'early' risers had begun opening their shops and walking to their late starts at work; a few askance glances from open windows and meager foot traffic did put a keen eye to the two stray dock guards clearing vagrants beneath Misery Row. The dull sounds of violence above still readily in hearing as the bridge creaked eerily from the afternoon wind. The area around the particularly belligerent passed out pile of yellow cloth was sparse, though she had at least three empty bottles of indefinably liquor surrounding her and had managed through some display of authority to claim a spot up against the wall of a building, tucked into a relatively protected corner.
(sorry to cut you off before you got to the brothel, feel free to keep the diplomacy roll you did for the next diplomacy scenario that comes up.)
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Elginsh
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Post by Elginsh on Dec 29, 2015 23:38:42 GMT
Jacob leered at the tattoos and sandals, attempting to glean some sort of knowledge of who this woman was. He paused further when she spoke in Kellish instead of Taldane.
Jacob stared incredulously at the pile of blankets after she told him off. He paused for a second to think of what he would do next. He realized quite quickly what he would do, first thing being to stop Phelan from clubbing the woman to death. As he held out his hand to stop his friend he reared back with his right leg and kicked as hard as he could, roughly where the person's ass should be.
"OY, If you don't want to be spending the rest of the week before you 'move out' in a holding cell! You'll get yer ass out of me alleyways!" he yelled surprisingly loud at the woman "And why the hell are you speaking in Kellish? Phelan you ever seen tattoos like her's? Or recognize those sandals?"
Jacob did not take kindly to disobeying authority, although he was not as eager as Phelan to use lethal force. He did however draw his mace, just to be safe.
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Post by Flanwaw on Dec 30, 2015 0:52:09 GMT
Phelan scowled, somewhat incredulous at the motioned order for him to stop - but that quickly became a smile when he saw what Jacob had intended. Though he did take his club out regardless, and seemed full ready - and very much willing - to use it. He stood a step behind Jacob, using his size to intimidating effect, assisting Jacob in making his commands. The kick landed plush on her rump - nearly knocking her into the wall she was snuggled up against and definitely giving her a rude awakening. "Tch'OW! The hell!?" Her voice lost her grog and grit, becoming husky as the sleep left it. She moved very quickly considering the circumstances, up on her feet and against the wall behind her in an instant - the various yellow cloths that she had shrouded herself in flung off in every direction. She was armed with a heavy curved blade and a small hand crossbow, both sheathed. She smelt acrid, like saltwater and sweet liquor - but something else cut it, something foreign to Jacob's nose. Jacob's close examination of the woman revealed a few tidbits that weren't immediately apparent; mostly that she was definitely not human. Though at first glance she seemed to fit the human mold perfectly well she was covered in tiny almost incandescent scales, similar to a snake, that shifted naturally with her skin. Her eyes too were serpentine and her movements were just a little too fluid to be perfectly normal. Her sandals and tattoos weren't of any style that Jacob immediately recognized, and Phelan merely shrugged in response to Jacob's question, equally ignorant. Whoever this strange woman was she certainly seemed surprised to be looking at a couple of guards, and then immediately after surprised by her very surroundings. She looked around, confused, then angry, then looking very very concerned - she had the wherewithal not to make any threatening movements though, not immediately at least. She ignored Jacob's questions completely, continuing in Kellish, and making a sweeping motion to her surroundings "Where am I? What time is it?" She clicked her tongue, looking angry again, "Gozreh drag ye down, and where the fuck is Matthriss?" Her skin caught the light unnaturally, glowing gold even in the shade of Misery Row. It stunk of magic.
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Elginsh
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Post by Elginsh on Jan 9, 2016 17:16:09 GMT
As the woman whirled around Jacob reeled back. Her appearance and movements were inhuman. He paused for a second to think out his actions and register what she had shouted. He searched back through his knowledge of the arcane as well as he could. Jacob held his free hand up as a signal to Phelan to make no aggressive moves.
"You are in the Docks District of Absalom. It is relatively early in the morning. I have no idea who Matthriss is though", he explained as honestly as he could, and as calmly as he could "If you could please lower your weapons however, all of us are too hungover to get into an armed fight. And I'm sure you'd rather not fight two to one"
After his explanation he changed his stance to appear as non-threatening as possible. He continued to stay focused on her stance and posture to read her intent. He remained ready to to swing at a moment's notice.
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Post by Flanwaw on Jan 9, 2016 18:35:27 GMT
Phelan growled, hackles raising like an attack dog having their leash pulled; "We're askin the questions here, guttersnipe." His club slapping against his open hand, emanating solid 'thumps'. "And aint no one should forget that."
Jacob could note that, by the weight he felt behind him, Phelan was directing that statement at Jacob as well - he didn't like that Jacob was responding to the woman's questions before she answered theirs. Again - any slight to authority. Jacob knew Phelan long enough to know that he could only keep him back so long before he had to get some of his nastiness out.
The glow around the woman was, by Jacob's accounting, some sort of minor abjuration spell - but the glow could tell him little more than that. Granted, a defensive spell that managed to last through her drunken coma was performed by someone of considerable skill - or hidden within some item's enchantment on her personage. Though, perhaps - he was mistaken, and it was merely the sheen of her strange scales.
Though Phelan hadn't appreciated Jacob's acquiescence, the woman certainly seemed to. Sensing Jacob's lack of ill intent, she pointedly ignored Phelan - only managing to rile him even further - and stopped her sweeping, nearly-panicked, flailing. Her tone even changed as she spoke, less accusatory and aggressive, "Oh, uh - huh." her eyebrows furrowed, "Morning? Shit." She had a deep voice for a woman, especially one as slight as she seemed.
She kept her hands well away from her sheathed weapons and raised her hands up above her waist, "No worries, fisher - i'll just be on my way."She clicked her tongue - it was slightly forked, "Places to be." This woman had a knack for ignoring nearly everything Jacob asked of her beyond what she seemed desirous to answer. The woman began to move to try to get past Jacob and Phelan - out of the corner she'd been placed in. Phelan placed himself bodily in her way.
"Ain't leaving till you answer our questions, serpent." Phelan absolutely towered over the not-quite-human creature - but she seemed far more frustrated with him than scared of him.
She tilted her head back to Jacob, smirking, "Mind yankin this dog's chain, fisher?" Phelan began to raise his club, but she hadn't seemed to notice, looking at Jacob, "I gotta be somewhere noonish..." She continued to speak in Kellish - Jacob was finally able to note that her accent was actually kellishite - it was probably her native tongue.
The crowd had slowly continued to gather, a little more than a dozen onlookers made up of some of the vagrants they'd cleared out earlier, a few pedestrians and some citizens watching from nearby windows.
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Elginsh
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Post by Elginsh on Jan 20, 2016 8:01:23 GMT
"He's not a dog, matter of fact he may as well be my brother. Least, if he weren't so ugly. But he is correct in demanding you answer a few of our questions", Jacob knew his friend was getting riled up and would rather avoid a violent confrontation "And I would much rather you answer them with all of your teeth in your skull, but you and I together have gotten him quite upset. I'd appreciate it greatly if you would just hold up. Its still a bit off from noon"
Jacob leered at his friend to lower the mace, but held his own at the ready, bouncing the head of it in his free hand's palm.
"I'm also a tad curious about you being magical and all. Its a might suspicious, along with you being the only vagrant this early in the morning to be carrying two large weapons, and nearly drew them on us", he frowned intentionally deeply to make his point "So I would appreciate your cooperation for just a few moments more. The whole, drawing weapons on me thing honestly has me quite upset"
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Post by Flanwaw on Jan 23, 2016 2:59:14 GMT
Phelan maintained a portion, but not all, of his willpower. IT didn't seem he appreciated all the verbal abuse and general restraining he'd been forced under - especially for such a rude customer. He kept himself from slamming his club down on the woman's head, but rather drove its hilt sharply into her shoulder - painful, but not damaging. The woman, not having even been aware of Phelan raising a threat behind her, could do little to avoid the stinging blow. "Kasshhhh...!" She hissed, hunching and clutching her shoulder were the blow hit her - spinning around to shoot daggers at Phelan and then back at Jacob - eyes sharp and impatient. She seemed to consider more sharp comments, or perhaps violence - but settled on a terse, "Fine."
Phelan gave both the woman and Jacob a shark's grin, flourishing his club so the woman could see it was still at full ready "See Jacob? Sometimes they just need a whippin." He spat at the woman's feet, who managed to move them out of the splash zone in time. Phelan went back to his looming position, watching the woman's hands as they hesitated around her weapons.
A wave of mumbles went over the crowd, critical little whispers between the onlookers.
The woman rolled her bruised shoulder and started, voice tense but calm, "I like my teeth where they are, and neither of you are worth rust on a blade," She continued in Kelish, "I'm Keleshite... so I speak Kelish. I don't know Taldane - it's an ugly language so I never bothered with it." She tipped her head, stringy black hair rolling over her dirty bandanna. "I came in on a ship from Quadira. Katheer specifically..." She hesitated, briefly. "Anything else? Satisfied, fisher?"
Phelan's neck bulged slightly as he tensed, looking at the woman with no small derision. "Don't matter who she is - she's a vagrant. That'll earn her a night in the sink either way, and she damn well earned it." The Woman's fork tongue peeked out of its mouth, "Fuck off, dog - you'd need to arrest half the damn the sit." Phelan just grimaced, happy to just lock her away on any excuse.
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