Intro Scene: The Skies Darken

The world is sectioned by roads, and all roads lead to this great city. Well traveled, and beaten, these roads attest to the myth that man first traded with others on top of the great mountain. A beautiful blue sky, clear year-round, sets above, and a veritable sea of green grass blows and shifts in the wind. The wind whistles merrily, almost as if the land itself were a great instrument, with holes dotting the ground. Large, leafy trees dot the landscape, giving perch to hundreds of birds. The wind's music, supplemented by the song of birds, surrounds travelers, leading them ever forward.

As the path dips and climbs the hillside, far in the distance, a soft and dull splotch mars the beautiful sky. As the trail continues, slowly, ever so slowly, the splotch grows, darkening the sky, choking the sun, and nature slowly releases her grip upon the land. This continues until even the brilliance of the sun struggles to show through a film of gray. Birds, their song once heard all around, now show rarely, and only to forage for food, or hunt the even more seldom rabbits. The trees start showing signs of distress, as leaves do not grow so thick, and the grass begins to be ringed in yellow. The wind continues to blow, whistling a tune only it knows.

The path stretches ever onward, and the sky above slowly darkens, becoming a gray which blocks even the warmth of the sun, bringing a chill that stunts the growth of all plants. The trees have disappeared, causing the air to taste stale, almost as if a room that has not been visited in many years. The grass has turned completely yellow, and ahead, even in the valleys of the hills, the mountain rears it's head, a black splotch on a canvas of gray.

Ahead lies a large hill, a veritable island in a sea of yellow, and the mountain rises up behind it. At the top of the hill, all time seems to stand still. The mountain stands at a distance, surrounded by a great plain, upon which no army could hope to sneak up to. The sky above the mountain is even darker than the sky above the hills, and nothing moves on the plains. Even the wind, a constant company up to this point, lies still, stifling travelers, making them afraid to speak for fear of unleashing some unspeakable horror upon the world. Only the memory of the wind's merry tune keeps travelers going.

Travel ever closer, passing remnants of armies, their bleached bones a stark white contrast to the yellow grass, and the sky darkens even further. The mountain now remains as the only hope for travelers, cold and afraid, the dark surrounding them, and the light almost non-existant, at least in their minds. The road suddenly ends, and a great stone stands before the travelers, blocking the path, but still the mountain exists, a mere few hundred feet away. Near the mountain side, a great din is heard, shattering the silence, almost as if a thousand dwarven smiths worked without stop around the listener. Jagged, broken stone makes the mountain, weather beaten, and sharp. The walls of the mountain, almost unclimable, a perfect half-circle is found cut out of the mountain. Smooth, and ten times as wide as a hill giant, these half-circles are a complete mystery. Far to the wests and east more giant rocks ring the mountain, smaller troops to the absolute giant that is their general. The sky above is now black, completely blocking the sun and moon, making night and day exactly the same. Flashes of red of and yellow break the monotony of the black sky.

A sharp grinding cuts through the din, and then the great stone splits, revealing a huge spear of metal. The spear sits for a few moments, then slowly stretches upwards towards the mountain. The grinding grates upon the ears of every listener, and most try to shut out the sound. A soft crashing cuts off the grinding, and above, a second spear met the first spear. A soft scraping can be heard from within the spears, and the scraping ends with a loud click. The grinding resumes, as the spears withdraw back to their respective stones. Above, as the spears withdraw, a massive cable remains, swaying softly. At the point where the spear withdraws into the mountain, a great, gray blob appears, perched precariously upon the precipace that is the mountainside.

The blob launches itself off of the side of the mountain, rushing to meet the ground, until the cable catches the blob, leading it right to the large stone. Before the blob smashes into the side of the rock, it stops quite suddenly, and the blob, now able to be seen as a box of some unknown metal, settles softly on the ground. Doors open up, and more crashing signals that other boxes are falling towards their respective stones. As the doors shut, the box lurches upwards towards the mountain, in a slow, grinding climb. Several hours, and the box drags itself into the mountainside, slowing scraping it's way inward. The doors open, right in front of a long stairway, and a bright light leads the way. As the travelers breach the ground, the plateau stretches before the travelers, and the city opens before them. Thousands of people in sight, and a large mutlitude of automatons, sending chills through many a traveler. There is a brisk wind here, swirling into eddies, then breaking away, giving the city a very comfortable feel. Then, as the shock wears down, a giant machine man bends down, and it's grinning metal skull opens wide and says:

"Welcome weary ones, welcome to the center of the world, where the four winds come to rest. The source of commerce, the center of trade, where one can find anything, from astral diamonds to copper ingots, from rare snow peppers to the common dandelion, from a long lost friend to a new and exciting romance. Welcome travelers to the City of Automatons, to the City of Eternal Twilight. Welcome to E'drani, the Darkened Sky!"

You as players now have the beginning scene, the location where the game will be primarily placed. Please post what you would like to do as new travelers to E'drani, and feel free to e-mail any questions you may have about the city that you could reasonably know, and I shall answer if your character would know. Start here, you have two weeks worth of actions to post, you may be as detailed as you like, but your experience gains are realistic. If you go to an inn, and then you stay there for the next two weeks, don't expect to gain any experience. You will not gain a lot of experience for your actions, but no actions will gain you no experience. Italics and the color cyan will show what an NPC says, and bold and dark red will show what I, the gm, am saying OOC.

As the road becomes more foreboding, Abbatt tightens his cloak and puts his head down, determined to reach his destination quickly.

When the automaton finishes his introduction Abbatt looks up at him and smiles, "Well it is good to know I made it to the correct city. I seek the church of Azuth, would you be so kind as to direct me to the nearest chapter?"

When I arrive at the church, I request to see the head priest (my manner is polite but urgent). After my conversation with the priest, I take a rest in the bed provided by the church.

I rise before dawn the next day to begin my search. Taking the disguise of a halfling waif I begin by wondering the streets looking for signs of my targets signature. I will sweep the city in a grid over the next two weeks until I find something. I will start either at the more shifty joints in town or an area the high priest points me towards. Each morning I will spend an hour centering my focus and then I will take a different disguise and begin my searching. I will spend twos hours each night as Abbatt Sinclair in a local tavern nursing a drink and gathering information before retiring to my room at the church (I will visit a different tavern each night unless I learn something that would lead me to do otherwise).

The automaton's head swivels to look directly at you, then the creature speaks.

"Many apologies traveler. I am only allowed to welcome you to Traverler's Rest by Council Decree 132. The merchants down the central road should be able to help you."

As the automaton speaks these words, the rest of the travelers, obviously intended to ask similar questions, turn and head down the center road. A very mixed group, there are humans, dwarves, duergar, drow, halflings, and goblins. While some sneers and smirks are sent towards one race or another, none make any moves against each other under the watchful eyes of the automatons.

After being accosted by several merchants, you find one, an orc named Slug Crossteeth, willing to point you in the right direction without trying to get you to purchase any of his wares. Following his directions you are able to reach the smallish chapter of the Church of Azuth. The Head Priestess, a human woman named Elora Truebright, is willing to meet with you as soon as you arrive. The bed is a simple cot, but you are given a private room with a small desk and chair for reading.

You begin your search, and it doesn't take long before you realize that looking for someone, even if you know their signature, is like looking for a needle in a very large haystack. You walk throughout the streets, and there are races that elsewhere would be vicious enemies, are walking and talking in a friendly manner. Early in the morning, there are vendors out selling fresh bread, and certain morning sweets, and they are almost all willing to stop and speak to you in a friendly manner. During the day there is too much hustle and bustle for there to be much private talking, but for a city this size, there seems to be very few incidents, and even fewer that lead to blows.

At night, the taverns are always going. Rumours and gossip flow freely, alcohol is cheap, and gambling and whoring is everywhere. While listening to rumours and talking to others, you hear about the upcoming Feasting Festival, and how it is one of the best times of the year to be a citizen of the Rest. Very little gossip about any problems in the city, with the exception of the local gangs starting to become active. You travel around to several inns over the period leading up to the Feasting Festival, and you gain no more information about your target than when you started.

Twitch cocks his head a little to the side and grins thinking how funny it would be to see the large metal man fall on a few of the travelers. He then realizes that he could be among them and quickly shuffles forward with the group keeping an easy pace and taking in the sights. Between the gears on the metal man and the goods from the merchants, Twitch's most prominent thought is "Shiny." All of these buildings so tall and so many hiding places blanketed by a thick cloud of black! Twitch can barely contain his excitement at times! He casts a few sidelong glances at those around him only talking to those willing to talk to him (the people walking with him, not the merchants just yet). He asks questions like "What brings you here?" and "Coin purse?" holding out what appears to be a leather sack made from.........leather? To those that scoff he simply ignores and continues on to the next person until all those interested are satisfied.

As merchants approach here and there trying to peddle their wares, his first question to them is "City map?" and the second is "Other goblins?". He keeps his hands hidden most times unless gesturing at goods or emphasizing his words. Oh but how his left hand shakes! The urge to take from some of these fools simply because they do not guard their wares. He has actually returned things in the past just to see the misery that had befallen his victim. If a map is obtained, he notes things like guard houses, private residences, taverns near the slums, and anything interesting that catches his eye.

He generally gives off a pleasant manner to those around them but keeps his words very frank unless someone has something important to say for once. If the opportunity presents itself, and it had better be a really good opportunity due to the fact that being squashed by one of the metal men or shot by a peacekeeper does not sit well with Twitch, he does a little bump and go pickpocketing while exploring the city. He also notes windows, balconies, clotheslines and rooftop crossings where he can and marks little spots on his map if he has one. Twitch generally finds alcohol distasteful because it makes you stupid, but he LOVES food and may "sample" here and there unless he finds it easier to just pay for. To those that make short jokes, he cocks his head and grins as normal, BUT HIS HAND IS SO TWITCHY.

When he gets his fill of walking around the city looking for other goblins, observing persons of interest (very heavy gold laden interest), and browsing the wares of merchants plucking what information he can about this city, he visits the nearest tavern. He prefers to sit in the back and if the bar wench or owner have no problem with it, drives a dagger into the table and orders the house specialty. He is thankful for all the walking and exploring because his love of food would make him a silly fat goblin.

During the Feasting Festival, he takes advantage of the huge crowds and drunks to fill his pockets with whatever valuables he thinks he can get away with. Once again he is playing this far more cautiously than usual because he is still unfamiliar with a majority of this city. And........wait a second....did someone say all the food is free?!?! THIS IS THE BEST FESTIVAL EVER. He may spend the first day plying his trade more earnestly, but if he finds others playing games of cards, or any games for that matter, he takes the opportunity to either show up a few players or make some friends. He gambles about 1/8 of his "hard earned" money and usually stops if he wins big. An exception to this is if he hears any rumors about other goblins or even a Thieves Guild in which case he will play up to a max of 1/4 until he is satisfied that no more information can be obtained. He also looks for more information about local gangs and any other events that might spark his interest.

As Twitch moves through the crowd, he is able to see several other goblins just wandering around the town. While watching, he notices them stop and talk to several different people, or different races. They seem to be quite friendly. The buildings are well-built, most likely due to need, as every now and then a gust of wind threatens to pick Twitch up and carry him away. While the sky above is quite dark, there is a ton of light along the roads, and most homes and businesses have plenty of light. Several of the people walking near Twitch shy away from him when he starts talking about 'coin purse'. The drow sneer at Twitch, and the dwarves growl at Twitch in a very provoking manner.

While Twitch is never approached by a merchant (they are all found in stalls or near store-fronts), they do yell about their products. When Twitch asks about a city map, he gets told that the Cartographer's Guild is the only place he would be able to find one. Several of the merchants are goblins, and they all seem quite friendly, and most will stand and talk to Twitch if he so desires.

After walking around the city for a few hours, Twitch realizes that the city is far too large for him to explore in one day, nor one week, nor one month, nor probably one year. To try and do so is simply folly. In his immediate area, in Traveler's Rest, there are plenty of other goblins, and many others of different races. Short jokes aren't normally made, only when he bumps into an orc or, if he tries it, into a hobgoblin. Elves and drow sneer or ask if he is doing alright. Dwarves don't move when Twitch bumps into them, and some of them bump back. There are so many people in the Rest that Twitch is constantly being bumped himself.

Twitch finds himself in the Craven Nest, a tavern nearest the slums of the Rest, and the table he sits at, near the back, already has plenty of holes in it from others driving their daggers into the table themselves. As Twitch enjoys the bowl of fish stew, no person approaches his table. The bar wench, a pleasantly plump human woman, comes back regularly to check on Twitch, and she does the same for all the tables. Hands are slapped away before they ever reach her butt, but always with a quick grin.

The Feasting Festival has lots of different kinds of food available. People are all over the place, most drunk, many getting there, even on day one. Many shops are closed, with just a few still open despite the festival. Many people are playing cards, dice, darts, and other games of chance or skill. Coin is flowing almost as free as the alcohol is. No information flows about any Thieve's guild, but gangs, there is lots of information. The One Eyed, a gang of orcs and ogres, has been slowly stirring up trouble, apparently trying to entice the Filth, a gang of goblins, halflings, and, some of the rumours say, trolls, into fighting them. The Brazen, a gang of only women, were said to all be stricken with a grave curse. The High, a gang of primarily giants and ogres, is said to have found an artifact of great power. Other rumours abound, but it is hard to remember them all, and Twitch ended up playing games and breaking even, not winning, nor losing any serious money overall.

Ghormar takes note of the automation, and wonders what force gives life to a machine… Ghormar decides to move into the city in search of “great power” or at least that’s what he was told could be found here. He quickly passes all the general merchants and road side stalls, only taking the time to stare down the most persistent ones. For some reason it always makes him happy to feel someone’s confident gaze, and then push them to uncomfortable shifty eyes without a word being spoken. It sometimes seems a silly mind game, but what is life without a little fun? Oh yea DEATH! Which can be fun too.

After traveling for what seems a good ways into the city, Ghormar sets out to find the darker part of town in hopes of an INN or Tavern to sit in a corner and listen for the right conversation to spark his interest. Anything that mentions items of note or power will do. He only talks to the wench about some food and a dark place to sleep, and anyone he hears gossip about said power.

The feasting festival sounds like a place of gluttony and people trying to escape problems in life by drinking to death… Oh the joy this will be, with drunkenness everywhere. As before, I walk around to acquire gossip of power and actually stopping to converse with the occasional dunk about the meaning of life and death, because on a normal day no one really wants to talk about such beautiful things. I drink some wine and eat enough to be full. I’m careful to avoid as many lesser intelligent races as possible, because they tend to waste my time, and time is always slipping away.

Several merchants do approach Ghormar, and while many are scared away, a few continually badger the necromancer for his business. Throughout the week leading up to the Feasting Festival, Ghormar is able to find a pretty secluded inn where some of the seedier individuals are apt to patron. Even with the dark corner, and the lack of talking, most of the patrons tend to shy away from Ghormar.

As the Feasting Festival begins, Ghormar is able to walk through the streets without too many people shying away from him, but for the most part, most of the citizens of the Traveler's Rest try to avoid talking to Ghormar, quickly walking away as soon as it is a viable option. Several drunks talk to your character for a few minutes, and then they actually look at you, focusing their eyes on you. One or two just quickly walk away, stopping in mid-sentence to leave your presence. One particularly drunk citizen, after getting a good look at you, started screaming, and you are able to pick up through the hysteria and fear, that he is calling you a Reaper, and his soul is not for you to take. You smell a particularly strong smell of ammonia, and as you watch him run through the streets screaming about you, you cannot help but smile slightly at his panic.

That 'night', as you are walking through the city, your character is stopped by a couple of creatures, a human and a hobgoblin. They are dressed in clothing that is completely matched, and if you are able to read draconic, they have writing on their shirts that say "Peacekeeper." They speak to you quietly and with some hesitance.

Excuse us sir, but unfortunately, we are going to request that you refrain from walking around with your weapon, and your hood must stay pulled from your face. The way you look is causing an uproar, and we can't have you upsetting our peace.

They have their hands on some weird pieces of metal, and their eyes look hardened, almost as if they are already prepared to try and put you down.

After hearing the automaton's greeting Armand replies:

"Find anything you say? I sure hope so."

He heads through the market place asking around for good places to stay and places to find work, odd jobs. Any useful information he gets he uses. First establishing a place to stay as he plans to be in the city for a good while it will be essential. Looking for work to get some income to maintain a life while here.

Armand takes the time up to the festival to get settled and explore a little of the city, at least the more immediate area to his logging.
When the festival rolls around he takes part in the free food but does not drink any alcohol. Now, with people merry and drunk Armand decides to start his true mission. He asks anyone who will talk to them if they know about "The Birds of Prey." Any conversations that don't give him useful information he tries to pull away from to ask more people never losing hope.

As the crowds grow thicker, Armand has a little problem winding his way through the throng of people. Every person Armand approaches about lodging or work has something different to say.

Ye should try the Dancing Squire! - Ta Fire's Slumber is ta place ta go. - Try down the road, Greer's Bedrest. - Ach, the Ogre's Cudgel is a place o' frien'ly service, aye, an' the servin' wenches are extra frien'ly, if ye get me drift! - Get away from me riff-raff! - The Warrior's Guild is always in need of strong arms. - Me ma hasa leaky roof, she can feedya if'n ya do 'er roof up right. - I do have need of more subjects. They all seem to run off or die. - Why work when you can just steal everything you need?

Armand's exploration allows him to get a rough feel of the layout of the Traveler's Rest, at least the part where he ends up making his home. The Feasting Festival, which lasts for three "days" and "nights," takes place on the 7th day of Galas, in the year 933, and lasts until the 10th of Galas. People tend to be freer with information, and most give tales of the "The Birds of Prey", many you have heard, but there are plenty you have not. A merchant makes a suggestion for Armand to go visit "The Theatre of the Otherworldly," they are running a series of plays focused on "The Birds of Prey." No new information has surfaced, however, and most of the people speak as if "The Birds of Prey" have either died, or finally quit the defenders of justice business.

Thus ends the intro scene. No further messages will be replied to, at least not for XP. I will update this thread when I am ready for the last post to be made that will end participation in this thread.

Before the festival, in the early stages of exploring the city, Armand checks out the places he was recommended, Dancing Squire - Ta Fire's Slumber - Greer's Bedrest - Ogre's Cudgel, to check out the atmosphere and get some information on each.

Armand Rosewood
You look into the Dancing Squire, and you see a fairly full barroom, even at midday. Many of the patrons seem to be wearing the dress of those Peacekeepers you have seen around, and the lighting is bright and fills the entire building from corner to corner. There are four pretty young women moving from table to table, taking orders, bringing drinks and food, and with the short skirts and full blouses, they are obviously the way the owner brings in so much business. Behind the bar is a very muscular humanoid, far more muscular than most humans, but you are not sure if he is mixed with something, or if he is just blessed with such a large body. Over the bar, you see a sign that says "We are a clean business. Feel free to talk to our girls, but keep your hands to yourself, or you might have them cut off. Thank you!" There are stairs to a second floor, and you see a sign that says, in common, how much coin each room costs. Painted white with pale green trim, the Dancing Squire seems to be a very pleasant place, and there is a raised podium that a minstrel sits on playing an upbeat tune, to the pleased calls of the patrons.

The Fire's Slumber is a tall building, almost 7 stories tall, with a large stable in the back. This inn boasts an eating space that covers almost the entirety of the first floor, and actually has different rates for how long someone wishes to stay. The inn-keep is a large man who introduces himself as Jor Flare, and bids you welcome with a smile on face. The rooms are of decent size, and there is a fireplace in each room, allowing for each patron to warm themselves as they see fit. Firewood is provided for the first day (or first fire if it takes a couple days) but then the patrons must provide their own firewood, or they can purchase it from Jor. Jor doubles as cook as well, and his food is known as some of the best around, and it shows, as many people come in to just purchase his food. Jor runs the Fire's Slumber with his wife, two sons, and his three daughters.

This post is a swift description of what happened to Ghormar Chandrin. This will be sent as if someone not involved in the conversation were standing there watching.

The hooded man stands there for a moment, his head barely moving, as if he is thinking deeply. The Peacekeepers, nervous and fingering their weapons, look as if they are tightly coiled, ready to spring at any moment. The dark spectre raises his hands towards his head, and pulls his hood back. His face, quite pleasant, is dark, and his eyes, while hard as stone, are a dark brown. A terrible set of scars encircle his neck, bringing a vision of great torment inflicted on the man. His lips move, and most of what is said is lost to the noise of the festival. As the man moves to restrain his weapon, the Peacekeepers noticeably relax, one even holsters his weapon. They seem grateful to the hooded man, and the hooded man has a pensive look on his face as the Peacekeepers walk away. The wind blows lightly from the North, and the hooded man's robes billow lightly around him, showing the glint of armor, but his body seems as if draped in shadows.

Armand Rosewood
As you walk into Greer's Bedrest, it seems as if you are walking into the foyer of someone's house. There is a bench to the side, and a lovely halfling woman sitting behind a desk. There are stairs going up on either side of her desk, and hallways leading to the right and left from the desk. She introduces herself as Cath Tyra Greer, and then asks how long you would like to stay? When a note of hesitancy comes out in your words, she offers to show you how the rooms look. The rooms, she explains, are all the same, with a large two-person bed, a small table for sitting or eating at, and a personal chamber pot. The beds are soft and comfortable, and there are vents that allow heat into the room on cold nights. Food is ordered by talking down tubes built into the rooms, and then the food is brought to your room, and payment is collected at that time. Dirty dishes just need to be left outside your door when you are finished. The halfling spins quickly, and, smiling widely, asks how long you will be staying?

The Ogre's Cudgel is a rowdy place, full of rough men and women, all shouting, laughing, fighting, flirting, and drinking. A pretty half-elf welcomes you to the tavern, and asks if you are looking for a room, or a table, or perhaps both? She wears a very slim and tight-fitting bodice that looks as if it were missing some of its fabric around her bosum. If you start too long, she waves her hands at you, and grins when you move your eyes back up to her face. Inside the doors, to the right and left, is an ogre holding a very large club, and you see another ogre standing by the stairway leading up. A very tough looking orc stands behind the bar, and all of the serving girls are wearing the same clothing as the half-elf girl, which includes a tight skirt, and stockings of some sort. Every now and then, you see one of the serving girls lead a man upstairs, and they don't come back for an hour or more. A fight starts up as two patrons fight over the same girl, and apparently her words aren't enough to stop the fight. One of the ogres by the door goes over, hits both men with his club, and then throws the men out of the bar.