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Athas
Mar 21, 2006 2:09:24 GMT -5
Post by Ptelcar on Mar 21, 2006 2:09:24 GMT -5
Ptelcar took in the many sights of Tyr. Having spent the last few years in Urik, it was interesting seeing all the activity at night. He watched the various people go about their daily lives. He saw people haggling, repairing buildings, and all the other activities in a large city. He hoped in the next few days he'd be able to find some time to just wander around the city and get to know some of the inhabitants.
Realizing he'd yet to talk with Makba or the woman he decides to talk to one of them. And with the Makba seeming more personable Ptelcar decides to approach him. "An impressive city," Ptelcar starts with after increasing his pace to come alongside Makba. "I don't know much about it. I know its the only true free city, but that’s about all I know. Maybe you could tell me a bit about it." After thinking for a second Ptelcar adds, "And you mentioned when you first met us that you were a Draqoman. When I first went to Urik I was approached by others who called themselves such, but I never did find out anything about them. Could you tell me what being a Draqoman entails?"
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Athas
Mar 21, 2006 2:22:43 GMT -5
Post by Jingzu Lunaria on Mar 21, 2006 2:22:43 GMT -5
Not long after they entered, they heard some shouting up ahead. Apparently there was an argument about the caravan that was in the street. soon after, it began to slowly back up, moving towards the group. There was a little laughter from up ahead, and a great deal of cursing. One man shouted "How was I supposed to know we unloaded at the gates?" More laughter accompanied the comment, though those caught behind the wagon weren't laughing. Many of them were quite unhappy with the developement, as the caravan took up most of the road. People moved to the sides. One woman tripped, her foot caught in a small pot hole as she tried to scurry out of the way. All she accomplished was twisting her ankle and ending up but a few feet from the wheels, which were steadily moving towards her. No one made any move to assist her. They just went about their business.
The Draqoman's voice was a touch amused. "I can tell you what you want to know. I can even tell you some things you don't want to know, but it all depends on your questions, good sir. Yes, I'm a Draqoman. We guide people through our respective cities, making profit off of their profits. It's a good business, especially if you find people willing to take a few risks."
The Draqoman paused, observing the caravan's slow and steady progress. The woman began to scream for help. "Draqoman have contacts throughout the city. We're locals who made this place our business, and who show others what a place it can be. We guide our patrons where others won't, and we guide them where they need to be for what they want to do. We speciliaze in our city and we let them get by without getting killed, hopefully. We're never your friends, but we can help you all the same."
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Athas
Mar 21, 2006 2:36:49 GMT -5
Post by Thanqol on Mar 21, 2006 2:36:49 GMT -5
I watched the wagon head towards the woman. Oh, was this ever an example of the lawless hell that existed without Hamanu. Without Him, there was Nothing. This was Nothing.
But perhaps there was a chance for people to be saved. To watch that woman be run over by the caravan was to watch one soul snuffed out without ever getting the chance to experience the blessings of the Lion. It would be like me, as an ignorant youth, being stabbed in an alley without gaining the chance to become a Templar of Hamanu.
But then, mercy was a sign of weakness. It was a moral issue that warred in my mind briefly. I then stepped out of my way to the woman, and dragged her unceremoniously out of the way. I allowed for a second some of my most minor healing magic to touch her and continued on my way, without as much as a nod.
It was what Lord Rayden would have done. Demonstrate wealth and power, and make no promises or offers.
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Athas
Mar 21, 2006 3:26:22 GMT -5
Post by Ptelcar on Mar 21, 2006 3:26:22 GMT -5
"An interesting profession," Ptelcar says after Makba finishes describing Draqomen. He's relieved when Aephero drags the woman, out of the street. He doesn't believe he has the strength to do what Aephero just accomplished.
Returning his focus to Makba Ptelcar continues asking questions. "You can tell me what I do and don't want to know? Well, I'd like to know what we should be especially alert for. Any dangerous gangs? Or especially dangerous areas of town other then the Bards Quarter, if you have one? And any infamous people we should steer clear of?" Ptelcar looks a little apologetic and adds, "I know that’s quite a bit, just the most important would be more then enough."
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Athas
Mar 21, 2006 3:55:11 GMT -5
Post by Jingzu Lunaria on Mar 21, 2006 3:55:11 GMT -5
The woman leans against one of the adobe buildings and sighs in relief as the caravan trundles past, unaware of the whole ordeal. She looks up at Aephero. She had red hair and a very soft face with the occasional curve, here at the cheekbone, there at the nose. Her eyes were blue. "Thank you." She whispered, almost in surprise, certainly in awe and relief.
The Draqoman chuckles softly from behind the gauze that covered his face, apparently amused by the situation. "Yeah, we got a Bard's Quarter. We also have a thriving Elven Market. All of Tyr is dangerous, you soon find out, but the really bad places can be in Shadow Square at the wrong times of day without the right guide. There are too many gangs to count, too many to name, but the ones that you really got to watch out for are the Black Teeth, the Shards of Fire, and Rik'na. Those are bad gangs filled with nasty people. Another person you want to look out for is Timor, the senior Templar. You probably won't meet him, and you'll know when you do, but you'll want to not make him angry. While the Council of Advisors technically holds the power, he's King Tithian's right hand. He can have you killed many different ways, most of which he could prove were legal. Watch your step."
The Draqoman pointed at a small uneven surface on the paved street. "That stone sometimes gives way."
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Athas
Mar 21, 2006 4:04:44 GMT -5
Post by Thanqol on Mar 21, 2006 4:04:44 GMT -5
I glanced back for a moment, taken a little aback. I had not heard the words "thank you"... ever, really. A Templar's life didn't get thanks. People were normaly far more thankful to see us gone. It was an odd experience. "Aephero," I said, after pausing for a second, and then I swept on, walking just behind Ptelcar. My thoughts drifted away from the woman to consider the name of the high Templar. Oh, he could very well be a deadly foe. I would avoid a conflict if possible, and seek out lesser Templar to convert.
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Athas
Mar 21, 2006 4:21:11 GMT -5
Post by Jingzu Lunaria on Mar 21, 2006 4:21:11 GMT -5
The woman nodded, understanding what he meant by the comment. She stood and dusted herself off, glancing very briefly at Eludî before ducking into a nearby alley, near the establishment that the Elf knew as the Golden Inix. It had a sign with an Inix on its side in front of a mug.
Some merchant's hawked their wares here, but there was mostly an odd lack of them, as if this just wasn't the place for them. People chatted idly back and forth, while most just went on their way.
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Athas
Mar 21, 2006 5:12:16 GMT -5
Post by Eludî Uineru on Mar 21, 2006 5:12:16 GMT -5
The woman had not moved an inch when the screams for help sounded. She did not even glance that way. Only when Aephero moves to the rescue does she flash a look over, her expression unreadable behind the shawl.
"Makba. You had better up the price."
She gives the redheaded woman a hard stare, and turns back to the road, sidestepping the bad spots on the road without seemingly giving it much of a thought. She steps up to a merchant hawking necklaces.
"How much for that one?"
She points at the obsidian pendant around his neck.
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Athas
Mar 21, 2006 5:29:49 GMT -5
Post by Jingzu Lunaria on Mar 21, 2006 5:29:49 GMT -5
"Oh, I think the price is fine for now." Makba said, his voice pleasant enough. He stopped and watched her for a moment, then turned his attention back to the Urikites.
The merchant seemed thoroughly insulted. He adjusted his small turban and somehow managed to look down at her, over his long and crooked nose. Even though she was significantly taller. "That, Elfy, is mine. The others are for sell." He said as he began shoving some of them back into his robes. He seemed about ready to take a step back.
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Athas
Mar 21, 2006 5:35:06 GMT -5
Post by Eludî Uineru on Mar 21, 2006 5:35:06 GMT -5
"Manners manners. Can you tell me what a kank, an erdlu, and you have in common?"
She tilts her head slightly to the side.
"They have never seen my gold."
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Athas
Mar 21, 2006 5:47:19 GMT -5
Post by Jingzu Lunaria on Mar 21, 2006 5:47:19 GMT -5
"Gold?" The man immediately exclaimed, pulling the necklaces out again and happily shoving them into her face, so eager to make a sell was he. "Two gold for this one! It was charmed by a Halfling in the Ridge Mountains, dwelled in the Dragon of Tyr's gut for two centuries, rode in the claws of a great Air Drake, then gained the power of Badna! You'll not find a better necklace anywhere, no ma'am! This is a one time offer, a one time deal, lower than any other price! Get it before someone else does!" In his defence, it was a lower price than he was asking earlier.
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Athas
Mar 21, 2006 6:00:04 GMT -5
Post by Eludî Uineru on Mar 21, 2006 6:00:04 GMT -5
The woman sighs and makes a bored gesture as she sifts through the necklaces.
"No... no... awful. Too bad you're not selling the obsidian one. Hm. I guess maybe... no."
She makes a discontented 'humf' noise and shakes her head.
"Mud. Mud. Mud. There are three things in this world that come free, my friend."
The Elf clicks her tongue in disapproval and gives the pendants an impatient, haughty tap before she turns and walks away.
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Athas
Mar 21, 2006 8:43:12 GMT -5
Post by Nyu Bomber on Mar 21, 2006 8:43:12 GMT -5
*Tory walked in an idle daze at all the activity going on around her. Being raised the way she was, Tory was trained to not speak unless spoken to...unless she had a question. While walking, one popped into her mind.*
"Are there any pit fight arenas here?"
*The question wasn't directed to anyone in particular, but she did expect a response.*
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Athas
Mar 21, 2006 15:55:50 GMT -5
Post by Jingzu Lunaria on Mar 21, 2006 15:55:50 GMT -5
"Hej-kin's curse on you, pointy eared witch of the Silt Sea! Heartless wretch of the Tableland Raiders! The Shadow Giants are nicer than you! BAH!" The merchant shaked his fist at the Elf, not noticing he was one necklace shy. The Merchant yelled for a moment or two more before another person strayed too close. In which case he very nearly physically jumped them and began to sell his wares again as if nothing happened.
Makba looked up at the Half-giant and nodded his hooded head. "Yes. Kalak's arena remains, and though it is mostly used as a trading district these days, they still hold fights there on special days or events. In fact, I think they were going to hold a small contest sometime tomorrow morning. I can get you signed up if you want. Little risk, as it is the sport of freemen now. The only deaths there are accidental.
The Gladiators still go back to that place, still fight." Makba continued. "It's the crowd. They love the surge of energy, the feeling that there, they can control all the world."
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Athas
Mar 21, 2006 16:17:47 GMT -5
Post by Eludî Uineru on Mar 21, 2006 16:17:47 GMT -5
The woman simply walks on uncaringly. If she listens to the conversation at all, she does not show it. She slides her fingers, inside her glove, over the surface of the chain, and keeps her one eye open. Once the party walks out of sight of the merchant, she drops it into an inner pocket, under her cloak, and pulls the wrappings off of her head.
Many long, thin brown braids drop down her shoulders. Most of them are decorated with bone beads and small feathers. It is hard to get a glimpse of her face, however, as she immediately pulls the hood of her cloak up. Attached to it is a thin veil, which drops down over the Elf's face. She gathers the braids and stuffs them in the neck of her cloak.
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