Grey Rose

[Damon Inferel]

(OOC: I've already tried to write this introduction, but it was terrible the first time. Forgive me. In any case... I resurrect the one day dead RP. I hope this sounds better than last time.)

 

The legend of the Grey Rose is one that almost every child knows... and fears.

 

An artifact with the power to destroy the heavens, the earth, and all planes of existence lies resting on Middle Earth in the Barren Mountains. It has been the target of many who plot to destroy it, and those fiends, demons, and villains who wish to capture it. However, it still remains amongst the mountains, unknown and unseen. All who have attempted to retrieve or destroy it have never returned.

 

This artifact is also sought as a treasure by the purest of hearts, as it also is revered as a thing of ultimate beauty, prosperity, and bliss. Even though many know it as a thing of pure evil, capable of destroying all, there is also a legend that tells of it being the only thing that can bring ultimate peace. An artifact, an icon, an idol that is meant to bring an end to all evil and bring happiness to all. Some argue that the people who have sought it have never returned because it has brought the ultimate paradise.

 

One such person believes in the latter theory, a devout pursuer of it as of late. A travelling bard came to him and sang a tale to him as he was inebriating himself at the dwarven tavern of Good Gruff. Despite his drunkeness, he somehow believed the story to be true, that he and his town could be brought to the ultimate paradise, and he made the decision to find this artifact for the better of his people.

 

This person, or dwarf rather, is Guedirre Jargon, Seargeant of the police force of Saidia. He's an outstanding citizen who upholds the law, but does not make rash decisions, and is often called 'friend'. He has no family, as it was a great epidemic of red fever killed them, but he has always viewed life and it's troubles that are things to be conquered, not to be welled on. Some might call this heartless, but he realizes that by mourning forever, nothing changes what has happened, and he still has others he can effectively call 'family'.

 

It has been two weeks since he last heard of the artifact, and his several attempts to rally a few of the police forces has failed, possibly due to the fact that the police force has heard the other half of the tale, and they think it rude of him to risk the lives of his compatriots.

 

Saidia is a metropolis, a population of 400,000 or more live there, and it has two police departments, both of which are branched to the other. There is a great variety of races there, though the founders of the city are half-elves and humans. It is something of a city of flowers, a beautiful place that attracts many artists and travellers, and many people find prosperity inthe large variety of jobs and such.

 

The crime rate is low, due to the powerful mages backing the police force who scry for miscreants, but it is not without its thieves and barfights, most commonly between ogres, orcs, and dwarfs. The watch prowls the strrets at night, so it is very safe, and there are several gardeners who seldom rest to keep the 'Flower City' looking beautiful and smelling pleasant to the number of people that travel through there.

 

For a sake of change, none of you are mercenaries, but rather other folk who happened upon the same tune the bard sang in the weeks before. There was no person who made a large deal about it, but the idea still lingers in your mind, especially considering the bard was very talented and convincing. (Compliments of one of Gabriel Pelous' better days)

 

Thus, those of you who have any ideas to searching for this artifact, you would be the players. In time, the dwarf will come across you and provide you with the sufficient information and equipment, since you would be the only ones willing to follow him. He has assembled one other halfling to accompany him, and he is watching the city for others who find interest. (For those of you who don't know, a halfling s much like a hobbit from Lord of the Rings. In fact, they are the same thing.)

[autumn_sun]

{{one quick question....is gambling "allowed" in the city?

Edit: ok, you did...next question...where exactly is the setting? As in...where the hell would my character BE right now? I feel like a newb all over again!! Even though I've been rping since the summer before 8th grade...forgive me...}}

Edited May 29, 2003 by autumn_sun

[Damon Inferel]

(OOC: Pip... Mrowr... All right then... setting. Um... let me just thing of something really quick here... I don't have a character description of you, nor a name, so I'll just say Pip for this post... okay?)

 

Guedirre finds himself in the southwest corner of Saidia at the classy Amaryllis Inn, a place which holds few cutthroats, but many thieves and gamblers, due to the great amount of casino games found there. (OOC: Nothing like a slot machine though, or anything mechanical)The walls are adorned with floral print and a golden trim, a good deal of various flowers lining the twelve windoes win the room, vines and ivy coating the east wall on the outside, where the sunlight hits it at first rise. Commoners wander about the inn, watering the flowers from time to time, and a few others bring money and food to the tenants. The bustle of the downstairs is added by the parties upstairs. A joyful place this inn is, but rather quiet come nightfall. It is early morning, perhaps somewhere around 6:00 AM, the sun not even come up yet, the torches keeping the place sufficiently lit in the corners, while the spells of light keep a bright illumination amidst the center of the room. It is autumn outside, approximately 48* with a low breeze, birds chirping all about in a musical tune... however, that's outside.

 

As he steps into the inn, something seems a trifle akward about the figure in the corner, one who is not dressed in anything more than common finery, and yet they are enjoying gambling at the inn... He steps over to the corner of the room, the person playing a game of spades with a group of ogres and halflings, but yet he cannot make out the person who is playing in great detail because he/she is primarily covered by a large coat, something that appears to be the most expensive item of clothing they are wearing. Guedirre clasps a shoulder onto the figure and clears his throat.

 

"Excuse me, what might ye be doing here?" He says in the most friendly voice his dwarven throat will let him. "This is a place for the more wealthy folk of the city. Certainly ye have money to gamble with, do ye not? In any case, why would one such as yerself be trying to gain money. This is a prosperous city, and many a fine job await those who seek fortune. I mean ye no insult stranger, but I want no trouble, and ye strike me as just a tad suspicious."

 

(OOC: Hn... I didn't have to use your name after all... I guess that works.)

[Elwen]

A slender, petite figure steps into the inn, hood pulled forward to hide their face. Silently, he-or-she takes a seat in the darkest corner of the room, which happens to be the corner near where the constable is speaking with someone.

[Damon Inferel]

Guedirre turns his attention to the hooded figure in time to see... him/her/it sit down. "I'll get back to ye. It seems there are more suspicious people than ye here."

 

"Well now," He comments cheerfully. "Might ye do me the honor of takin' down yer hood? I don't want any trouble now, but I don't like ye suspicious ones comin' in to these fine establishments and causin' grief. I mean ye no insult, but It's me job to protect the city, and I want to avoid conflict at any cost." He raises his flint and strikes the burned out torch in the corner. "There, so ye can see, and I can see ye too."

[autumn_sun]

{{thanks!..erm...this is a shot in the dark sorta...never really did a thing like this before }}

 

=The figure turns around, looking no older that 17. Pulling out her pair of

die, she shakes her head in annoyance at the dwarf=

 

"This game is getting a little too...boring for my tastes..." =she turns back to the group= "Anyone up for a game?" =she tossed the dice up in the air, watching them fall and roll= "Snake eyesssss!" =she hisses, grinning mischeviously. Her elvish ears stick out from her hair, but this is hardly anything new to anyone. In fact, save for the coat (which looks quite new, compared to the rest of her clothing), she looks like a normal traveller. But of course she's not...=

 

"Well? It'll be clean, here, you can even examine the dice." =with a flick of the wrist, the dice go flying into the hands of a skeptical looking ogre. She puts her feet up on the table, waiting for the group to make a decision, listening to bits and pieces of other's conversations, hushed by the early morning hour=

Edited May 30, 2003 by autumn_sun

[Elwen]

The slender figure pulls back their hood. Long white hair flows down their back, with elven ears showing through the mass of it, and unusual violet eyes stare out of a rather pretty face. An ebon-skinned face.

 

Whoever this is had a good reason to hide their face-because they are a drow.

 

A dark elf.

[smallscale_mind_games]

((I thought Drow were blue?))

Another gambler at the table, quite short (but not enough to be a halfling) tossed her red-brown curls over her shoulder. She had the accent of a hard laborer, a farm worker perhaps, but contrary to her voice, she appeared quite wealthy...to anyone with an eye for tailoring anyway. Her clothes appeared simple, in bright fall colors, but the leather of her tunic was the finest, as was the linen of her loose-fitting shirt. She grinned predatorily at the ogre, and snatched the dice from his hands, examining them closely with warm-seeming hazel eyes.

"Naw, they en't weighted. Might be enchanted though, I canna' tell in this light."

[autumn_sun]

"Ah, aren't we a clever one." =she grins, the dice moving back into her hands, hovering briefly= "Always questioning, I like that." =she pockets the dice= "Now, now, I wouldn't have played with these anyway. I'm not a cheater. Just a test." =she looks at the group, shrugging slightly. You can even see my cards. See? Not cheating." =she turns her head looking over at the drow= "Hmm..." =she comments= "Now that's something you don't see everyday."

 

{{....so did I}}

[Damon Inferel]

Guedirre pauses for a second, stroking his beard and allowing his mind to take in the fact that another Dark Elf, the enemy of his race, is in the city. He tries to remain friendly though.

 

"Well," He comments, his voice still friendly, but a trifle more gruff than before. "A drow. What do ye know? forgive me fer askin' stranger, but ye bein' one who doesn't spend much time out of it's caves, what're ye doin here?" His voice changes to a more serious tone. "If yer here to cause trouble, ye found it, so don't try nothin' funny all right, and state yer purpose in this city."

 

He glances down at the drow's neck, a symbol of a unicorn dangling from a small chain... the Symbol of Ehlonna. "Well... that's peculiar. what might someone such as yerself be doin' away from that Spider person ye worship? Be ye a renegade? If ye are..." He pauses for a moment and then laughs heartily. "Welcome to Saidia stranger!"

 

Not too long after he begins laughing, the entirety of the inn staring at him, as his gruff voice echoes in the hush of the morning, the music conveniently stopped for intermission, a dagger whizzes past his head and grazes the fallen hood of the dark elf. Another figure, another dark elf who apparently has no heed for the fact that she's in a dwarven town glares angrily at the other drow. "Blasphemer! I'll kill you!" She screams in something of a more-than-upset tone of voice.

 

Guedirre promptly blows his whistle, signaling the watch, but he knows well it will take them a minute or so to reach the inn.

[Elwen]

Lissandrien throws himself to the side, ignoring the slight trickle of blood that dripped down the side of his face, and manages to evade the mage-lightning that the priestess sent at him-and struggling to hold his own magic under control. He was not going to use his sorcery again!

[Damon Inferel]

The dwarf grumbled, looking at the drow who was nearly assassinated. "Just stay outta sight there, ye hear me?" He pulled out his crossbow and pointed it at the attacker. "I don't care if this elf of yers is a blasphemer. Anyone opposin' ye is not to be trifled with. I'm the law in this city, so I suggest ye turn around, 'fer I gotta make things ugly. This is a place of peace, and we don't ake kindly to ye startin' trouble."

 

He looks about, noticing that a few off duty police officers are loading their own crossbows, as well as a great number of other tenants pull a variation of other weapons out.

 

"Ye might want to turn around elf..." he glares, growling as he raises his heavy crossbow.

[Elwen]

The priestess slowly turns, glaring with murderous hate at the necromancer who is inelegantly sprawled on the floor, but stops casting lightning-even she has some regard for her own skin.

 

"Damn you, Lissandrien L'riel." she spits at the renegade.

[troubled sleep]

A human of perhaps elvish decent drummed her fingers absent mindedly on the gambling table next to her. Her expression was bland, despite the sudden 'excitement' between the two elves which had suddenly presented itself in the casino. Before these odd occurances she had previously been mumbling at the young elvish looking gambler to quit showing off her supposedly clean dice and cards and start a new game. Her tone had been cold in the way that only a failing gamblers could be. After all, she had to get at least some of what she had lost back, and joining a new game seemed to be the best and fastest way.

She was about to resume in her attempt to get someone else to start a new game...but an increasing number of eyes were turned to the scene between the two elves and the dwarf and in light of this most gambling had, for the moment, ceased. So she simply continued to drum on the table, moving her fingers in a constant rhythm and hoping that this incident would wrap itself up so gambling could resume.

[Damon Inferel]

Guedirre settles back down a little, the majority of the bar still holding their swords and other weapons half out of their sheaths and holsters. "ye made the right choice missy. Now... just turn around and go back ta where ye belong."

[Elwen]

Lloth's priestess glares once more at the male drow-if looks could kill, he'd never have been born-and flounces out. But not before delivering one last threat.

 

"Enjoy what time you have left, renegade." she calls out to Lissandrien, who is getting off the floor. "For you don't have much left."

 

Lissandrien slowly stands, violet eyes blinking slowly.

[Damon Inferel]

"Well, that's over." His voice get louder, but more friendly and less gruff. "All right everyone, there's nothing left to see here. Ye can go about yer business. Gamblin' and such."

 

He turns over to the drow who is blinking. "Are ye okay?" He asks a little flatly before ignoring the elf completely. "Good. Well, to celebrate, i'm givin' all the suspicious people in the inn a drink!"

 

He steps over to the bar and beckons the bartender. "One fer everyone." He whispers before regarding the inn again, motioning for the music to stop. "Since all of ye are potential suspects... y'all get a drink.. fer those of ye who don't want it... I'll drink it!"

[troubled sleep]

Great. Now I'm a suspect. Whatever that means...And how is it that dwarf can be so...*happy* sounding after all that. she thought, frowning as the rest of the casino answered the dwarfs statements with nervous laughter. She then went on think about how annoying it was for people to be happy when she was in such a sour mood, but was interrupted as someone handed her one of those drinks the dwarf had been referring to. She accepted the drink gratefully, (she never was one to turn down a drink; especially if someone else was paying) and took a long sip before addressing those still assembled around the table.

 

"So...are we all going to do another game? Or just sit around being drunk?" she said, her contralto voice carrying a slightly drawling accent. It was obvious, though, from the odd way the words rolled out of her mouth that she was trying desperately to conceal her accent.

Edited June 2, 2003 by troubled sleep

[autumn_sun]

=The woman watched the fight out of the corner of her eyes, before tossing her head in a show of uninterest, shuffling the cards to keep her mind occupied. An idle mind leads to unwanted memories, something she had learned and re-learned many a time. She took the drink gratefully, drinking as much as possible in one long swig.=

 

"Wonder what that was about. Hm...Right. Moving on!" =Looking at the only other woman at the table, she raised an eyebrow in mild amusement=

 

"What's the matter? Lost too many games?" =she laughed not unkindly, knowing that path maybe a little too well=

Edited June 2, 2003 by autumn_sun

[troubled sleep]

"Maybe I have." she said with forced lightness, "Maybe I'm just bored. But the point is that if we're not going to play again at some point I'm moving on." she said. She was glad the other had stopped her laughter, for though it seemed kindly meant...it made her nervous.

Edited June 2, 2003 by troubled sleep

[Damon Inferel]

Guedirre trudges drunkenly over to the table where all of his original suspects are gambling and promptly pushes an orc out of a seat that he wants. "Ye were losin' anyway. Go on about yer business."

 

The orc grunts a little muttering something in his native tongue. "Look. I dun wan no trubbnle, so jus take these coins and go buy yerself... a drink! Yeah... Don't say nuthin else... er I'll take them coins back, cuz i understand ye... Yeah..."

 

He flops into the chair, setting his waraxe on the ground. "All right people. I'm so drunk rite now, and I wanna tell ye a story before I'm not drunk enough to remember... Okay! Now..." He hiccups before beginning, his face cleared up and no longer drunk. "im not really drunk. I'm a dwarf, so I don't get that drunk easily. In any case, I'm looking for some help, but the police won't help me. Since y'all are gambling, I figure you like to take risks."

 

He pauses for a second, pounding the table with his fist. "Pay attention please, as I'm not jokin'. I'm lookin' for the Grey Rose. This city is pretty, and not itty bitty, but I want this place better, so let's get down to business. I think that any of ye who were in here the other night saw a Bard talking about it, but I'll refresh yer memory." he clears his throat.

 

"In a place that's pretty far,

an artifact lies where monsters there are.

A thing of beauty and a thing of peace,

and much more valuable than flannel or fleece.

The Grey Rose it is and it's the perfect thing,

to bring to this city for paradise it brings.

It's powers unknown but always sought,

no ones ever returned so no Grey Rose has been brought.

Those few that go are strong and brave,

but never make it past the Barren Caves.

It lies without protection but the caves are fierce,

the natural monsters use claws that pierce.

Should anyone succeed and get the Grey Rose,

their courage forever so noticeable it shows.

Return with it and bring endless cheer and paradise,

where these flowers will always bloom... wouldn't that be nice?"

 

The dwarf nervously toyed with his beard. "Eh... I made that myself. It's okay if it's terrible, but we dwarves ain't poets. So, will any of ye help me. Ye've all heard about it, and I ain't got any other options. It might be dangerous though, since the fact still remains that nobody's ever returned... even those that have made it past the caves... But it should be great fun!" He shouts the last part, picking up his axe and embedding the foot-long curved blade into the wooden table. "I'll pay fer that!"

 

"Well, you wanna help and gain money and stuff, or do ye want to stay here and probably lose it all. It's up to ye." He turns to look at the drow, Lissandrien. "Yer invited too, if ye want. An enemy of the drow, even if ye are a drow yerself, is a friend of mine. Just promise ye won't stab me in the back... okay.?"

[Elwen]

Lissandrien nods, violet eyes remaining cool. "I am interested, sir." he remarks in a calm, light tenor voice, lilting with a strange musical accent. "And I never made it a habit to stab people in the back."

[troubled sleep]

"The Grey Rose...but that's just an old wives tale." Disbelief at hearing of such an odd topic, as well as the seemingly suicidal plan to find this Rose, was clearly written on her face. She began to speak again, but then stopped herself. After all...stranger things than the prospect running off to find ancient-and perhaps nonexistant-artifacts such as this had happened. And she did seem to have gotton herself into a loosing streak here...

And its not as though I've got anyone inparticular who would miss me should I not return... she mused. It was then she noticed that a few people were still staring at her, as though expecting her to go on with her words.

 

"But old tale or not...if you really will let anyone who wishes come, I'd wouldn't be opposed to joining you all." she said, still trying to cover up her slight drawl.

[Damon Inferel]

Guedirre nods in approval, particularly to the drow. "Well, if any of ye want to join this meager band that we 'ave here, we'll be on our way to Rivermist now. It's in the south, that it is, and ye'll find yerselves a good deal of hospitality there. It's much like home here, but less pretty."

 

He suddenly remebers what the half-elf had said about it being an old wives tale and looks over at her. "How can ye be sayin' that it's only a wives tale, when only one person sang about it, and he wasn't no wife? Have ye heard of it somewhere else? Eh... we'll talk on the road." he covers his mouth as he burps to himself, the alcohol catching up with him. "Ye won't find many polite dwarves like myself... I'm pretty darn proud of that."

 

After having his word with the half-elf, he turns to the large tavern, which is housing over four hundred other members. "This is yer last chance to come with us! If ye want to help me find the thing, then speak now, 'cuz we're headin' out! I'll warn ye though," his voice drops to a low shout as he finishes his sentence. "Nobody's ever came back from the hunt... so the bard says."

[autumn_sun]

=she looks at the bard= "Right, you've got my interest, so where's the catch? What happens if we find the thing? what do we get? Are you going to provide any compensation? Can you or do you have a healer?"

 

=She inquired, not one to go blindly into something, a small smile on her face=

 

"How about equipmemt we'll need? How do we know that we can trust ya?"

 

=her interrogation continued, the smile disappearing, being replaced by a bored, blank expression=