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Ask to Join Renegades

Discussion in 'General Role Play' started by Raezyr, Nov 2, 2016.

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  1. [​IMG]
    As years have passed, many people were sent to the Isle of Oblivion. A dungeon sealed and forgotten by many. The fog and the perpetual cold tempest, make it unreachable. The prision holds many dangerous foes that were locked in there for their war crimes.

    The dungeon is guarded by nymphs, these masked the island in the fog that never goes away. Skolligans and Humans have worked together to escape, but were not able to. These two races often fought together against the Onis, evil creatures from Kokerkipi. Their leade, Taartaten, created curses on her cauldron, and one of these made the Skolligans to turn against the Humans. They fell into an endless war as Taartaten expanded her territory and created a powerful army.

    The savagery and bloodbath broke through all of Calchevult, and this gave Taartaten the chance of enslaving all races. Nymphs, Tengus, Skolligans and Humans. All of those that weren't captures ran away to the southern area of Skolrya. The land was blessed and defended by all, there they created their society, and there, they struggled to conquer back what once was theirs.

    The boat left the harbor of the Oblivion Isle. This time not with guards, but with fugitives. The amalgamate of Skolligans and Humans, together, fought to keep their strenghts during the cold storm and the blinding fog. One human yelled atop the boat. "One! Two! One! Two!" as the groups of fugitives rowed through the stormy water. Most of them tired from fighting off the Nymphs and guards. Everyone helped the boat to keep moving, and mothers who had theirs sons while locked up were making everything they could to keep their offspring in warmth.

    One cloaked figure rowed alone, at the far end of the boat. Her snout was visible and her yellow eyes glistened as she kept rowing and looking forward. The Skolligan wore wool clothing, stolen from a dead guard and the cape, full of stitches, had a pale-purple color. The gust of wind pulled her hood back, revealing the scarred face of the Skolligan and most part of her poorly-cutten hair. The ears hade hole markings as one, circular, silver ring decorated her right ear.

    Days passed as the fugitives were getting more and more tired. The rain stopped and the fog ceased, but the clouds and the wind gusts persisted. The food was scarce and fishes were rarely caught. The Skolligan held her hood above her head with one hand, trying to cover her face from the cold winds. They had to survive a few more days, and so the challenge went on, all the way to the harbor of Skolrya.

    Clouds cleared and everyone looked happily at the sky. The sunset smiled upon them, glistening on the pale, dark, blue waters. The coast was visible among everyone as they rowed faster and faster. The loud cheering made everyone forget about their miserable conditions. But that wasn't the harbor of Skolrya, it was the Suzao-no bay. This detail didn't come to the mind of the fugitive's heads, as they scurried to leave the boat.

    The guards stopped them from walking out of the harbor. "Fugitives?" They yelled. The man that led the boat to the Bay nodded. The guards went back to their normal stance, and so, every fugitive started to walk through the streets.

    The Skolligan looked at the two golden coins on her hand. "Well, nowhere to go now...", she said as she walked through the street market.
     
  2. ((OOC: Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I have the memory of a goldfish.))
    -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
    "Move aside, birdbrain."

    The Tengus was rudely shoved aside by a brute-like human girl, landing on the grime-covered street in an awkward heap of blue-black feathers. Standing up on spindly legs, the crow-like humanoid dusted herself off, making sure to send a glare that delivered a message without words.

    Having put as much distance between herself and the most likely self proclaimed knight as possible, the jet-black avian reached the market. While it mainly consisted of poorly-crafted tarps covering comically thin wooden posts and mischievous nymphs stealing produce, it was home nonetheless. Even though the run-down stalls had varying levels of success, the Tengus one day wished to own one. Then maybe, just maybe, she could buy her way out of the town and sail a ship towards the place that no man with the will to live dared speak of; to freedom.

    It seemed that some believed they were already there.

    The crow tore her eyes away from the "magic" talisman that most likely was a bunch of horsecrap (but she felt compelled to steal it anyway), noticing an uproar at the nearby harbor. Humans and Skolligans both charged off the boat and into the city as if they had lived their whole lives in darkness and finally were allowed to gaze upon a beam of light.

    Needless to say, the poor Tengus was nearly trampled by the (idiots) that hadn't yet realized they were at the wrong place altogether. Every which way merchants could be heard screaming at their stalls about "greedy beggars" and "useless piles of scum," referencing a pair of Skolligan that had taken it upon themselves to grab the nearest piece of fruit and dart off into the distant fog. The streets were anarchy, even if it was only about five people total that still hadn't realized that this wasn't their destination… or if it was, they didn't realize that this town was still ruled with an iron fist as well.

    Immediately, the avian knew that was going to be a long, messy day… but maybe she could use that to her advantage.
     
  3. ((OOC: It's okay :p))

    The Skolligan kept walking through the crowded market as the merchants looked at her with curiosity. Many tried to sell her something but only ended up being ignored, and then enraged. She looked at the merchandise, only second-hand stuff. Some shops had too many things to sell, and ended up having extremely low prices. The wet stone slabs would only get dirtier and dirtier and the stalls would sometimes have one or another interesting merchandise.

    The sneaky hand of a Nymph was able to lift the cloak, in an attemp to pickpocket something of value, but only had her hand almost severed because of the thight grab of the Skolligan. She turned herself and removed the cloak. The Nymph regreted her actions as the Skolligan's face turned into an expression of rage. A quick movement with her second hand took the dagger out of its sheath in an almost imperceptible way. "Eye for Eye, Hand for Hand" she spoke as her dagger cut off the Nymph's finger, which landed on a potion being prepared on the stall of a human Witch.The Nymph scattered away as the Skolligan released her wrist. She pulled her cloak back on, placed her dagger on the sheath and just kept wandering throught the market.

    From a stand being run by a seer, the Skolligan decided to buy one talisman with the teeth of a creature labeled "Behemoth", as the drawn runes imply. She handed the two golden coins to the merchant and placed it around her neck. The Tooth was sharp, curved and had the size of a thumb. She then held the tooth on her hand one more time and kept wandering through the market. Now, the climate has changed and fog covered the feet of the crowd.

    Frequently, she would be dragged back and forward because of the wings of the Tengus, that made it hard to pass through. Some humans and other races yelled prophanies at the Tengus, and they yelled back, saying that the Wind Spirit would come to protect them. The noise was driving the Skolligan crazy as now she walked through the right side of the market, trying to avoid the middle. Drunksters slept on alleyways or sat on the border of the pier, mumblling incomprehensible words, still with the wooden keg on their hands.

    The Skolligan now had to find somewhere to stay. She now had to start seeking for an inn, if she could find one amidst the crowd.
     
  4. The next few minutes were relatively drab in the lively market, events repeating themselves as if they had been wound onto a broken record. Playing over and over again. The tengus conversed, made a vague attempt to steal, failed, and moved on, squawking about the wind spirits as she left.

    It seemed nothing ever changed at the port. Day by day the guards swept the streets, the merchants discreetly swindled their customers, and a congregation of different feet swept sadly across the cobble. It was a shame, truthfully, the Tengus thought. Here they all sat, draped in invisible chains as the Taartaten pulled the strings that had been wrapped irreversibly around their wrists and necks; forcing them to obey. It had to deviate from the stream at one point. The vicious circle of misfortune and dismay would have to end.

    The tengus, however, wasn't about to stop it. Despite having the right ideas, he had decided that his case of kleptomania was bad enough. It was best not to rebel and get on the wrong side of the law. The avian didn't care how much hypocrisy in which he would have to wade to stop himself from doing such: he wasn't going to stand up on his shaky legs and ruthlessly kick the Taartaten off of their high horses.
    But perhaps someone else could.

    Continuing his walk, an out-of-place shady figure caught his eye. He, she... they were clad in a faded purple cloak and had two furry ears sticking up out of their hood; a Skolligan; brushed back and fourth by the feathery tides of the preaching tengus. The canine-like creature appeared to be... looking for something? It was a rather far-fetched guess, but perhaps they wanted the same thing, even if one of the pair was more... discreet.

    Quickly ending his conversation with the nearby shopkeeper and slipping one of the many shining trinkets lain out on the counter into a hastily sewn pocket, the tengus merged with the flocking crowd of his kind, making his way towards the Skolligan that could be their salvation.
     
  5. The Skolligan walked amidst the crowd. From time to time she had to brush off the loose feathers of other Tengus off her cloak. Her perceptive eyes noticed, on the moss-stained wooden planks, a small sign that would rock back and forth on it's handle, breaking the hardened wax that melted off the candle atop the handle. "Mangled Mermaid Inn, what a curious name..." she tought while guiding herself through the crowd while extending her arm to open up some space.

    Her entrace on the inn was slow, almost imperceptible if it wasn't for the bell above the door. Everyone stared at her as she removed her cloak and revealed her messed up fur once again. She sat on the inky corner of the bar, as the humid wood would make the atmosphere a little colder and the oil lamps dimly illuminated the three-story inn.

    The waitress was a brute Nymph, with a very muscular body and a eyepatch covering her right eye. "Aye, wadya wanth?" the Nymph spoke as she tapped her fingers on the table, it was quite hard to understand her because of her accent. The skolligan recognized that, by the accent, she was someone from rural Ookantes. "Aye, sista. D'ye have any Pigoil?" The Skolligan tried to copy her accent.

    Pigoil was produced in the Oblivion island, by the prisioners themselves, to keep them occupied and impeding them from killing each other. A heated mug of Pigoil was given to the prisioners, with a loaf of bread, to keep them at ease. The alcoholic beverage was strong, smelly extremely bitter. Made out of cave moss, reed and sugar cane, the beverage starts as unbarable to those who drink it, but it's easy to get used to it.

    The Nymph give the Skolligan the heated mug of Pigoil. She hands the waitress a bronze coin she found on the pocket of her pants as the payment. "That'll do" the Nymph said, walking away back to the bar. The heated steam of the Pigoil made the ice from the frosted fur of the Skolligan's face as she took a sip from the mug. Still with the inn in silence, the havoc could be heard outside as the streaks of light from a cloudy day invaded through the bumpy door.

    She had her attention on a Tengu across the room, he dressed up and looked like a librarian, he was the one the Skolligan should talk to get a place to stay for a few days...
     
  6. "Of course. The Mangled Mermaid. Why not," the Tengus mumbled to himself, brushing through the preaching crowd. He had stayed there once, and that was enough to decide that he hated the place. The floorboards were always coated in a thick layer of dirt and grime, as were the personalities of the patrons who stayed there. Even the sign hadn't been updated in millennia, still screeching into the streets on its squeaky hinges with every draft of wind. It was a miracle that the building itself was even standing, as it looked tattered and frail enough to collapse at the slightest movement from the outside. Yet still, it held strong, no matter how much the Tengus wished it would fall over.

    'Maybe it's not worth it. I was probably just following a wild hare in the first place,' the tengus thought, beginning to realize his mistake. He wrung his feathered hands behind his back, taloned toes tapping against the cobbled streets in thought. The whole plan was foolish in general. The lupine humanoid most likely meant nothing. Just another newly freed degenerate who would probably be re-captured at first sight anyway. The tengus didn't know why he had thought anything otherwise.

    Shaking off his nearly black feathers to rid them of down from the other tengus, the avian continued down the dusky grey streets, scratching away at moss age-old moss growing between the cracks in the stone. The bird hugged the thin cloak closer to his body, the biting chill of the wind beginning to take hold. He took a moment to glance around. Everyone seemed lively and cheerful, though it didn't take the eyes of a hawk to see it was a just a closely maintained facade, or so the crow saw it. Every cheeky grin masked the fear and longing on every face. Any laughter that rang was halfhearted, all of them knowing that they were in chains. Before long, the tengus found himself lost in a maze of false speculations, standing on spindly legs in the middle of a crowded street with no one to speak to. It was amazing just how alone someone could feel despite being surrounded by such a large, flourishing crowd.
     
  7. The grim atmosphere would get even heavier, every untrustworthy eye harpooned the Skolligan fron head to toe. She did not mind, of course. In all those years of living in the dark prision of the Oblivion Island made her perception of reality change. Nobody would respect a noble knight, or actually feared to, ranks among the soldiers would mean nothing on the streets of Skadri, capital of Vorinmer. The poor people always feared the skolligan when she walked through the poor part of the city, afraid that she was there to collect the only, minimal things they owned. Betrayal: that's why she was in Oblivion Island originally.

    The lupine face of the Skolligan looked back at everyone in the tavern with an even menacing stare, to the point where soldiers held onto their shabby sword's handle. Of course, she would not attack them, as attacking officials was only going to bring her back to the island. She finished the pigoil and left, if they were going to stare at her all day long, it was better to sleep in an alley. She thanked the waitress and went to the creaky door. As she opened the door, a man stood up. A brawler, an experient one, came close to the Lupine woman.

    "You were with the beggars that came from Oblivion, weren'tcha?" the man grinned as he prepared himself to engage a fight. "Yes. Why would you want to know?" The Skolligan prepared her hands as she kept the right one close to the dagger, hidden under the cloak. "I'm Derill Varvas. Chief of the City's guard, and I'm the reason scum like you shouldn't be here!" he entered a fighting stance, the lupine woman stood still, all the men made a surprised expression as the woman cheered for Derill.

    "I am not going to fight you" she said aloud. "You THINK you have an option?" the man punched the wooden walls, a big hole was formed as the ones walking outside were hit by the rotten wooden planks. A sudden cold wind invaded the room. The fog slowly covered the floor, creating a serene, unfitting atmosphere. The skolligan decided to ignore the man and walk away through the door, but he soon grabbed her wrist. "IDIOTS LIKE YOU SHOULD STAY IN THE OBLIVION!" it was a matter of seconds as Derill's face went from raging anger to unexpected pain. The skolligan has stabbed his shoulder, just a little close to the neck. Some panicked, other watched Varvas slowly bleed to his grave.

    "GUARDS!" he shouted, these were his last words as the skolligan ran away, now without her dagger. She climbed through the stands, stepping quickly on the awnings of the shopping stands. Now she truly had nowhere to go. A synchronized marching echoed through the marked as the guards pushed the crowd away from the streets.
     
  8. The crow paced further along the road, beady black eyes staring down at his scaled feet that scraped the paved market street. Various junk littered the path, all of which the avian apathetically kicked aside out of neither anger nor contempt. Another pebble lay nearby, the tengus readying his spindled toes. He missed by mere millimeters, claws nearly scraping against the small, weathered stone. It was then, however, that the rock began to shake. It started out steadily at first, but increased with every passing second. The very ground trembled beneath his feet, the surrounding crowd staring behind them in stunned silence. Only a few moments later, when a massive cloud of uniformed figures approached upon the distant horizon did what was actually happening begin to click in the minds of the nearby populace. As such, there was only one option to escape the horde of guards clad in armour and brandishing their weapons that glistened in the fading sunlight:
    RUN.

    As quick as the leap of a hare, the previously motionless crowd exploded into chaos. Merchants grabbed their most expensive wares and masses of golden coins and bolted, stepping on toes and kicking peasants out of the way. A few sly thieves gathered all they could in the ensuing madness, taking off nearly as abruptly as their tradesperson predecessors. Meanwhile, the amalgamation that was the rest of the crowd panicked and sprinted in any direction they could, a cacophony of yells echoing around the crowded path. Amidst the confused congregation of populace, the tengus stood, his reaction time still having needed some work. Soon enough, he too bolted, like the lowlives taking advantage of the moment to grab a shining amethyst talisman that had recently been polished to a shine. In one fluid motion, he hung the leather cord around his neck, tucked the pendant in his shirt, and flew across the streets. His wings flapped in distress as he ran as if actually soaring across the fading orange skies. His taloned toes barely made contact with the cobblestone. Even so, tearing into the crowd at what he would qualify as breakneck pace was still too slow. He was crudely shoved aside along with the rest of the fleeing crowd by a manged skolligon, his furred hand nearly bleeding as it grasped his weapon. His ears twitched in and his face had contorted itself into an expression of pure furry.

    Fury, he meant fury. The tengus couldn't help but stare as he was plastered against the side of the road, desperately hoping he hadn't said that aloud. As a stroke of rare luck, the tengus hadn't let his beak slip and the terrible wolf pun had been left unsaid. The guard marched on, pursuing a cloaked speck that danced on top of market stalls and wove its way through the endless streams of people trying to get away.

    The tengus didn't dare take a breath as the rest of the guard passed, a stream of dust having arose due to the trampling that was growing steadily more disorganized as they tried to detain the criminal. The crow slipped another glimmering bronze ring that had been abandoned by its owner into his satchel along with the rest of the goods taken in the chaos, a layer of grime having settled onto it due to having nearly been trodden on multiple times by the swift feet of the guardsmen and women.

    At last, the danger had passed everyone still remaining paralyzed against the wooden beams of the colourful stalls in shock. Slowly, murmurs arose, as did the people, brushing themselves off and making sure their loved ones were accounted for. Questions rang throughout the crowd, answered only by shrugs and incomprehensible grunts. "What just happened?" "Are you alright?" "Why were they in such a rush?" "Oh, that cut looks bad, do you need some help?"

    The one question no one dared speak, however, was the only one on the avian's mind.
    Who was that?
     
  9. As a matter of time, the guards began losing the pace as they had to either choose their prideful lances or the criminal on the run. The whole market was ruined by the stampede of guards, and now the poor, bruised people helped each other build back the broken stalls. In fact, at their current pace, the market would be functional again in some hours. The Skolligan held her amulet closer, the teeth of the Behemoth had it's criptic runes drawn in a dark teal color, celebrating an ancient bestial god. It was an unknown culture, but she had already heard the Nymphs saying something about a god with stag horns.

    Throwing the curiosity away, she started climbing walls, the guards were still searching for her, that now ran through the mossy, fragile roofs of the poor houses. Her steps were as loud as thunder a she ran at incredible pace through the higher building on the city. Now, she found herself in a cleaner area with higher buildings. The houses were further away from the shoreline and the markets had more valuable items. Also, the place did not smell like sewage nor alcohol, so it was quite better. Stalking her way through behind the stands, she managed to grab a thing or two. Five golden coins, an orange and some acupuncture needles. Sure, she would not need the needles, but with enough improvisation, they could be throwing knives.

    She sat atop the sturdiest roof she could find, far away, where nobody would look up to. She watched them, observing each of their actions, as this would be useful for blending in. She slowly started to take the peel off the orange, gently. Her eyes would hardly blink as she judged every move of the citziens. Guards roamed the city, they seemed still be searching for her. The Skolligan still had to find somewhere to stay until the dust settles.

    Looking even further north, the even richer people. A small palace was leaned against the rock, as if it was part of it. She did not understand. People suffering, and they could only care even less about it? Repugnant. This kind of thought brought her to the Oblivion Island, she betrayed the royal family. She had everything she could ask for, and still, she sacrificed everything she had to have what she truly wanted.

    Her silent judgement continues, as now she looks at the thieves, trying to learn and copy their techniques.
     

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