Roleplaying > Tales of Asydia

[Asydia] Humble Beginnings

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Shadoweagle:
Mid afternoon, Werstone

It was hot and wet. The mid-afternoon sun peeked through the canopy randomly. Mosquitoes buzzed in the air and unseen frogs croaked. The swamp was  a landscape of greens and browns and the air was ripe with the smell of rot. In a clearing on the outskirts of the small town of Werstone, two people waited.

The grey-haired, aging Demy-Sefrab sighed as he paced back and forth. He rested his gnarled walking staff in the soft ground before him and leaned against its weight, glancing to Tamyra; Werstone's most respected tracker and hunter. - Was anybody even going to show up?
"Do you think people will come, Tamyra?" The aged man asked the woman. The younger woman leaning against a mossy tree trunk and was idly playing with one of three copper bangles on her wrist while she waited. She did not even look up to reply, "Maybe. I heard there was some travelers in town - they could be lured by the gold."

Demy-Sefrab had put word out about the attacks, the disappearance of Tar-Sul, and the 500 gold reward. Anyone who passed through Werstone or any of it's neighboring towns would likely hear of it. The message was to meet Demy-Sefrab at this time, outside of Werstone just shy of where the land descended into the Muck. "I don't have your confidence, Tamyra. Nobody would want to slog through the muck and risk getting killed for such a small amount! If only the offerings to the Khira were not so soon, the town may have been able to spare more."

"Don't be so quick to dismiss the value of one's aid, Demy-Sefrab. Look - someone comes..." It was true; Tamyra nodded towards Werstone. Out from the wood-walled town walked somebody, making their way to where the duo stood...

caesar193:
When he heard of the journey to the cave in the muck, Auxzali knew he must go. Which was why he now was trudging through the small town he had found in the city of Gama-Sol. He chuckled to himself as he remembered the events of the cartographer's shop he had left back there.

Having reached te pair at the edge of the town, Auxzali bowed in greeting and said to the elder of the pair, "I do believe this is where one can join the group seeking Tar-Sul, or at least information of his.... Disappearance, noble sir and ma'am?"

"Oh, by the way," the Ouzquin Dremorix said, "Those are some nice bangles."

And he flipped his ouzala and shoved the point in the ground and waited for a reply or the person in the distance to arrive, resting his hand on his weapon.

Shadoweagle:
The younger woman offered a faint bow and a cheeky smile in acknowledgement of her bangles, but said nothing - she merely regarded the outlandish man curiously.

Demy-Sefrab, however, frowned heavily - It was one of those savages from the northern deserts! They did not get many of them through The Muck. They were a strong people, it was true, but could they be trusted? "A sad day it is, where the plight of the swamp is answered by Sandwalkers and ignored by it's own. Still; what matters is that the task is done - and gold does not judge by race. I am Demy-Sefrab and you heard correctly - we wait to see if more aid arrives and then Tamyra will show you the way. What is your name, boy?"

"Another arrives, Demy-Sefrab." Tamyra interjected. Her gaze was set upon Auxzali with an unreadable expression but now they were locked on Werstone, and the latest arrival which walked towards the trio.

valadaar:

Nim-ty-Lin approached the appointed spot, excited but wary.  A quick exit from the town would allow some time for things to cool off, and the coin would be useful.

She saw the small group up ahead and glanced nearby into the shadows.  A habit gained by necessity.

She was surprised to see the Ouzquin Dremorix, for the same reasons as Demy-Sefrab, but she let none of those feeling reach her face.  Instead she gave a broad smile and introduced herself.

"Hello friends, my name is Nim-ty-Lin and I am looking to join the search for Tar-Sul.  Is this the right place?"


Gossamer:
A fly was making rounds above the tables, its droning buzz drowned out by the susurrus of the stuffy common room of the Ratsrun Inn. The smiling foreigner felt the many eyes trained on him, but pretended not to notice. He downed another small shot, and as he had with the other, slammed it down on the table, turned the tiny tin cup half a circle and gazed expectantly at his table mate, who besides his obvious uneasiness towards this strange quiet newcomer, seemed above all else perplexed at the wrapped baby peeking out from behind the foreigner's left shoulder.
 
It had been a long trek, in a not so welcoming land. But he knew he was getting close now, he had to be, for his money had all but run out. Not to mention that caring for the babe was getting harder. He had been purchasing goat's, and even horse's milk, but changing its wrappings were still a trial in itself, one that needed plenty of spirits... and carefully closed nostrils.

He narrowed his eyes and reached inside his robe, something that gave pause to many a patron. He slowly took out the scroll and unrolled it for the man to see. He took a moment to formulate his thoughts, it had been a while since he last spoke common.

"I am looking for a fellow Glass Shifter. This one pictured here. His name is Auxzali. Has he stayed at this stinking hole of an establishment?"

The man's eyes darted between the scroll and the foreigner. He frowned in confusion for a second, then licked his lips. "And eh...What's it to ya?" He asked hopefully, making his intentions clear.

The foreigner reached under his seat and slammed his ouzala down on the table, its jagged teeth pointing the man's way. "It would mean a lot. You are going to help me?"

The foreigner, though still smiling, looked positively ready to pounce. The man's crooked smile melted away as he abandoned all thoughts on monetary gain. Never bully the glassman, he reflexively thought.
"A-alright. Take it easy there big fella...There wuz one other one of ye's... Came asking around bout Tar-Sul, he left the inn not long afore ye came in, he did... Demy-Sefrab might ave seen 'im... go ask 'im, why don'tcha."

"Where pray do I find this.. Demitzsefrabb?" The man told him what he needed, and the foreigner nodded, downed one last drink and repeated his little ritual one last time before getting up. As an afterthought he turned around and added."By the way... Do you know about any women who keep goats?"

Not long after, the foreigner stood rapping on the derelict door of an unseemly shack. This was even better than a goat he thought to himself, a miscarriage could potentially mean that the woman still produced milk, and she would most likely be happy to take care of this child, any child.
He wasn't sure he would let her keep it though. For a voutzia, an outsider, to raise an Ouzquin Dremorix. Unthinkable. And he had to begrudgingly admit, that he was becoming attached to the little one. Let the beads fall as they may, he thought to himself.
Just then the door opened...

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