Blood Emerald
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Light =&gt; Light: Exotic Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Jguy on 10-03-2011, 01:45:49</h2>
		<dl id="posts">
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Blood Emerald</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Jguy</strong> on <strong>10-03-2011, 01:45:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				In the grand scheme of things, Eberron is a land of tolerance. While racism exists, there are so many different instances of a certain race that it is extremely hard to pin down someone just based on their lineage. An adventurer might meet a Half-Orc raider bent on spilling his blood one day, and a wise Orc Druid bent on understanding his connection to the grand scheme of things the next. <br><br>After the Great War and the signing of the Thronehold Accords, the land of Khorvaire was split up, many races getting their own separate lands. Droaam became united under three Hags and was the land for those without one. Gnolls, wayward goblins, medusas and Ogres all found a home where they didn’t have one. It was far from perfect, the strong ruled over the weak but it was held in check by the combined might of the three sisters. <br><br>Mongrelfolk hold a special place in Eberron and especially in Droaam. Mongrelfolk are a mix of nearly every humanoid race and none of them have a set look. In fact, every one of them looks different to each person. An elf might see a rather tall and slender dwarf, while a dwarf will see a short and stocky elf. This allows mongrelfolk to blend in and live a rather simple and easy life, enjoying the company of their “near –cousins” as it were. It is different in Droaam. <br><br>In Droaam Mongrelfolk are at the bottom of the totem pole for the same reasons they have an easy time everywhere else. To the savage races, they look like whatever they hate the most. Goblins see tall haflings, Orc and Ogres see dwarfs and elves. Mongrelfolks natural hardiness but lack of physical strength means they are typically used for labor by other races. Most mongrelfolk try to make their way to the Gray Wall and past to the land of Breland where they can pass into obscurity. Carrion Longbreath was not as lucky in that regard. <br><br>Carrion was born in Droaam before the three sisters arrived but was ten or so when they took power. He saw them lead a massive army of Orcs, Gnolls, and Ogres and conquer the land. He thought their life would get better as they had been just simple farmers, barely making a living. Life changed for them, but not for the better. They continued to farm but for their new leaders and nearly all the food made went towards the Great Crag, the Sister’s capitol city. Only their natural hardiness kept them from dying from starvation on several occasions. For ten long years passed like this until after the war finally ended and the treaty of Thronehold was signed. With this, Carrion decided to leave his impoverished farm and make for better opportunities. He did not expect the one he would get. <br><br>In the dead of night, he slipped out of his house, leaving a note for his parents and taking with him a backpack and enough food for him to get to the border. Problem was, he had no idea where he was going. He followed the road for several days, avoiding caravans as much as he could because he did not want to get sent back. One such instance forced him deep into the woods where he became hopelessly lost. Carrion wandered through the forest for several days until he suddenly came upon a huge cave in the side of the hill. For all its size, it was well hidden within the massive foliage of the trees and other plant life. <br><br>Carrion went in, not having a good night’s sleep in almost a week. It was dark inside and he flopped down upon what felt like a pile of flat stones. It didn’t matter, they were still softer then the hard ground. He woke up to the smell of acrid Chlorine and hot, wet breath on his face. His eyes slide open and he sees a truly massive creature in front of him. Head like a crocodile, thick neck like a snake, body of a terror lizard and its size made him feel like field mouse. It was a green dragon. <br><br>“My my my…what a brave little mongrel you are. Few creatures in existence would barge into a dragon's lair and use his horde as his personal bedroll.” The creature grinned, showing fangs as long as Carrion’s leg and he promptly passed out upon the mound of gold coins. <br><br>He woke up sometime later, resting on what felt like water. He looked around he saw he was on a bed of pure silk sheets that looked like spun gold. “Well it is about time you woke up. I was beginning to regret allowing you to live. Luckily I ate yesterday,” came a voice from in front of him. Carrion shot up like a bolt and stared straight ahead. Some people would have described what he saw as a strong looking elf, or an agile looking dwarf, or perhaps a more sophisticated half-orc, but Carrion could recognize a Mongrelfolk any day of the week. He was dressed in fine green silk clothing that matched his eyes.&nbsp; “You look just like dad…” he stammered out. <br><br>A wicked grin spread across his face. “I should hope so, I read your mind after all,” he said with a deep chuckle. He walked, more like glided, across the stone carved room to Carrion’s bedside. “You’ve led an interesting life and I am quite bored as of late. I have a proposition for you. Why don’t you become my apprentice?”&nbsp; Carrion was dumbstruck and could only nod his ascent. The dragon’s eyes flashed with barely contained glee. “This shall be fun indeed.” <br><br>Two years have passed since that day. Carrion’s Master, and that is what he was always referred as to as he never informed Carrion of his name, taught him much. Carrion found himself diving into books of arcane magic and of the various noble houses. Something about the power the two held intrigued him to no end. Carrion went through several intense rituals he still has a hard time describing to infuse him with the very power of his master. Green scales slowly covered his body, his senses sharpened, and most importantly of all, he was able to mimic his Master’s dragon fire. <br><br>“You’ve learned much about the world and about magic Carrion,” the dragon said one day, lounging upon his mountain of gold and gem in his natural form. Carrion never failed to get a chill down his spine when talking to his Master in his original form. “I think it is time you head out into the world. I have an assignment for you.” With deft claws, he pulls out a small chest from within his hoard and places it in front of Carrion. “Inside are several magical items I’ve made for you as a bit of a gift for your impressive progress as my apprentice and your assignment. You are to go to Sharn and contact the House Lyrandar guildhouse. I have a great granddaughter there that is in need of a watchful eye. She will be important to me later on apprentice. Don’t fail me.” The Master gave Carrion a sharp look. He gulped nervously and nodded, donning the items in the chest, taking the letter of introduction inside and flying off toward Breland and Sharn, the City of Towers. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Blood Emerald</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>cat storm</strong> on <strong>13-03-2011, 21:55:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kivaira Cayosinmiirik Kitril D’ Lyrandar brushed out her long copper colored hair and pinned it up allowing tendrils to frame her face.&nbsp; She picked up the black velvet choker with an emerald the exact shade of her eyes, the storm mark of House Lyrandar etched on it, and fastened it around her slim neck.&nbsp; Slipping a matching green velvet cloak over her gown, she checked herself in the mirror, ignoring the bustle and chatter of the other performers around her.&nbsp; She always needed this last minute of meditation before going on stage.&nbsp; It was a long way from telling stories to patrons of the tavern back home in Lyrandar where she had been the indulged youngest child of an important family.&nbsp; Here, at Gailan’s in the the Torchfire District in Lower Menthis, she was just another young bard trying to make a name for herself among Sharn’s entertainers.&nbsp; <br><br>Many of those resented her, thinking that she had gotten her position due to her contacts through her House, but most had to admit that she could entertain a crowd as well, if not better than most.&nbsp; The crowds that packed Gailan’s loved her, a house marked bard who knew all the old tales and could tell them with flair.&nbsp; When she was performing, she became the heroes and heroines, the villains and monsters she chronicled.&nbsp; It didn’t hurt that she was beautiful as well, though hers was a natural and graceful beauty not often found in the Torchfire’s theatrical district.&nbsp; &nbsp;Her tales had not been heard there in a long time as well.&nbsp; &nbsp;Many places in the Torchfire were only one step up from burlesque and Kivaira had some eye-opening experiences visiting the other taverns and theatres in the area.&nbsp; Gailan’s was different.<br><br>For years, Gailan’s had recognized the up-and-coming musicians, actors and other performers in Sharn.&nbsp; It was a testament to the owner’s eye that he had accepted Kivaira, though it was true that her someone in the House of Lyrandar had arranged the audition.&nbsp; Her House connection wouldn’t have made one whit of difference if she hadn’t had true talent and been able to hold her own onstage.&nbsp; She had already begun to receive offers from a few of the establishments in the Middle City, including the Classic Theatre.&nbsp; If she were to stay a performer here in Sharn, she was well on her way to success.&nbsp; The problem was that she had come to Sharn to learn more of the world and more tales, but these were old tales, oft told.&nbsp; She hungered for new tales and those weren’t going to found in the Classic or the Upper city.&nbsp; They weren’t going to be found performing night after night at Gailan’s either.&nbsp; She wanted adventure, but wasn’t exactly sure how to get to it.&nbsp; So, she performed each night and spent her days walking the city and haunting the guildhall for a chance to do more.<br><br>Checking herself in the mirror, she rose and crossed to the wings, waiting for the cue to step onstage with the tale she always began with.&nbsp; Her version of Lyria and the Dragon was a crowd favorite and many could swear that as she told it the maiden Lyria came alive before their eyes, and some said they could hear the flap of dragon wings as she spoke of the great red dragon who plucked her away an eye blink before the arrow would have pierced her heart.&nbsp; Kivaira had learned the bones of the tale as a toddler and has studied long and hard to find every detail and every version she could.&nbsp; Then she had made it her own, breathing new life into the tale.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Blood Emerald</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Jguy</strong> on <strong>17-03-2011, 20:04:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Carrion flew for many days and nights upon his wings of magic. This was one of the things he most enjoyed about becoming his Master’s apprentice. On the ground, he was just another mongrelfolk trying to make a living, but in the air, he was quite literally above it all. His problems and issues melted away on the breeze and it was a place he could truly enjoy himself. He remembered the day he mastered the invocation of draconic magic to bring about his wings and flew for the first time. He was so overjoyed that there were tears in his eyes and he could even see a small glimmer of pride in his Master’s eyes. Carrion almost hugged him at that moment but then thought better of it. <br><br>Each night he’d make camp, finding some secluded spot up on a hill top, in a cave, or in the lush treetops, away from prying eyes. He pulled out a rather large box from his pack and opened it revealing a multitude of food stuffs and drink that could keep a whole party of folk well fed and watered. Every night he’d eat his fill and come the following morning the box was filled with food, ready for breakfast and lunch. Afterwards he’d take out another one of the gifts from his master, a bedroll the kept out the harshest days and the most bone chilling nights and left him feeling refreshed every night no manner what ground he slept on. <br><br>After several days of flight he saw the towers of Sharn at a distance, and even then they were a marvel to behold. Tall building thrust into the sky, held up by magic and stone weaved together in a tapestry that would make even his Master concede to its incredible architecture. As he drew nearer he pulled out another item from his backpack, a small inconspicuous hat, and put it on. With a thought, he could feel the magic flow over him and change his very appearance. It wasn’t much really, he used its magic to conceal the green scales around his arms, hands, and face but otherwise he looked like how he always did which is just what he wanted. <br><br>He expected to make Sharn by nightfall at his current pace but he found himself flying much faster and with much better maneuverability the closer he got to Sharn. He was confused but he remembered that Sharn was built over a zone that is in close conjunction with Syrania, the plane of the Azure Sky. It was why most of the towers could even stay afloat in the first place. With that added speed, he made it just as the sun was starting to set. <br><br>From his place in the sky, he saw many things. The famous Lightning Rail brought people in and out of Sharn at a rapid pace, sky-coaches zipped around the city and he swore he even saw a massive stone gargoyle on a terrace move a little but that could have been a trick of the light. He flew with his back to the setting sun so no one would notice him but didn’t know where he should start. He only knew the history of Sharn to some extent and its more famous accoutrements but with such a massive city where would he start to look for the Guild House of Lyrandar, let alone find this “Kivaira” in the first place? He decided blending in with the crowd would be best so he made his way to what is known as Tavick’s Landing where the Lightning Rail docked at. <br><br>He swooped in, hoping desperately that no one really noticed the figure in simple traveling clothes with translucent dragon wings sprouting from his back flying down…he wasn’t very successful but it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. The looks he saw focused on him only for a few heartbeats before shrugging him off and continuing about their business. It seemed the people of Sharn were used to stranger sights which brought Carrion a sigh of relief. Dismissing his wings he landed some feet away from the train and into bustling crowd, getting quickly lost in it and getting pushed forward with the flow. Carrion felt over his head and didn’t know how he’d ever find what he was looking for. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Blood Emerald</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>cat storm</strong> on <strong>26-03-2011, 09:23:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The Halfling stage manager waved to her and Kivaira stepped up on the stage, her head bowed until the spotlight hit her.&nbsp; Then, she slowly looked up and out over the crowd as if she were Lyria beseeching the gods for help, her people dying at her feet as they fought to protect her from the Orc swordsmen slashing their way to this last stronghold of the elves of the forest.&nbsp; This tale had been one of the first she had ever heard from the lips of Tomas Illendiar, bard to the once king, who had retired to live out his life in peace just walking distance from the house in which she had grown up.&nbsp; He often had joked that he got little peace with her always pestering him for more stories.&nbsp; <br><br>As a little girl she had finished her studies and her chores as fast as she could, often telling the music master that she’d practice later before running down the lane to find Tomas sitting outside whittling in his favorite bench in the garden.&nbsp; She’d rush up to him out of breath from hurrying to get there and stand in front of him, waiting for him to acknowledge her.&nbsp; Of course, he would drag it out, carving one of the little figurines that spent hours on.&nbsp; She still&nbsp; had the small dragon he had spent an entire season working on.&nbsp; It was the only one of his pieces that she had ever seen him dye.&nbsp; He had presented it to her as a gift when she could tell back Lyria’s story.&nbsp; Thanking him, she had asked him why he had dyed it green when the dragon in the story was a red.&nbsp; He had winked at her and told her that it was to match her eyes, the windows to her tales.&nbsp; She had known then that she would become a bard and always kept the small dragon with her onstage.&nbsp; It sat in the pocket she had had made for it when she ordered the cloak she wore.<br><br>Reaching the part in the story where the last warrior had fallen, she stood with her chin tilted up as she told the audience Lyria had done, defying the Orcs to take her life also.&nbsp; She showed them the avarice of the Orc bowman, seeing her standing undefended and notching his arrow, thinking how he would be rewarded handsomely for bringing in the head of the Elven princess, already counting his fame and wealth. Then, with a flourish of her cloak, she became the dragon swooping down from behind the clouds , his talons outstretched and plucking her from the arrow’s path to set her down well away from the battle before turning back and felling the Orcs with the terrible flames he breathed.&nbsp; As she turned again, she placed a small container in her mouth and picked up one of the small firesticks,&nbsp; biting down on the balloon in her mouth and spraying the liquid just over the tip of the stick.&nbsp; Even those in the audience who had seen her do this before jumped a bit in their seats as a column of fire shot across their heads.&nbsp; Some of those who had never seen it screamed.&nbsp; Twice more she spewed fire in imitation of the great red dragon of whom it was said had felled a thousand Orcs with his breath that day.&nbsp; <br><br>Kivaira ended the tale with Lyria’s lament for those who had fallen in her service and her vow to return again with more warriors until the last Orc was dead or admitted defeat.&nbsp; The crowd’s applause washed over her like a drug and when she looked up at them and took a small bow; her cheeks were pink from the thrill that this moment always brought.&nbsp; Something about that applause sent her blood coursing through her as nothing else ever did.&nbsp; <br><br>Taking a sip from the water glass on the table to her right and a deep breath as she set it down, allowing the crowd to become quiet again, she started her next tale.&nbsp; This one too involved a dragon, yet it was a silly one that brought much laughter as she told of the blue dragon who took it in her head to sleep in the middle of a mountain pass holding up trade for the town of Diltoninia.&nbsp; The audience wiped tears from their eyes while she told of the mountain dwarves efforts to wake the dragon and get her to move.&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Blood Emerald</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Jguy</strong> on <strong>08-04-2011, 02:54:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Carrion moved with the flow of the crowed, heading towards the exit of the station. With a hop and a sidestep he managed to extradite himself from the mass of people and was deposited in front of the information board for the Lightning Rail. It listed the times of departure and arrival, cost for coach and upper class, all within a veritable forest of advertisement posters. <br><br>He scanned the leaflets, seeing ads for businesses such as “Adventurers Needed! Slay&nbsp; Dire Rats for Gold!” and “Have your fortune read by the blind, snake-haired goddess! Only 5 silver, located in the Cogs”. Carrion was about to leave when something caught his eye. It was a well made poster with dark green lettering. It was an advertisement for a live show, enthusiastically proclaiming a prominent member of House Lyrandar would be playing. Underneath was a very well drawn black and white picture of a half-elf in a pose, wearing a very well made dress. Scrawled below was a caption stating “Kivaira Cayosinmiirik Kitril D’ Lyranda doing the Epic of Lyria and the Dragon”. His scaled brows shot up in surprise as he tore the ad down and held it closer. <br><br>“Hey mister, I take it you wish ta see the pretty lady?” came a small voice behind him with a tug on his cloak. Carrion turned around to see no one but then looked down. Up at him smile a thin child, wearing leather breeches and a clean white shirt, with a small embroidered snake on the collar. She tucked a strand of black hair behind her slightly pointed ear and smiled wider. “Names Minegethiel Aldavaul, but I just go by Myn for short,” she says in a chipper voice. “You look new here. No one knows this city like I do and I can take you anywhere you want for just 2 copper.” <br><br>Carrion was rather taken aback by the sudden outburst from the small child, saying nothing but having a wide eyed look on his face. “Uh…,’ he started, his jaw working slowly. “Can you find me this woman?” he asks uncertain, showing the poster to Myn. The girl snagged the poster out of his hand and gave it a quick scan. <br><br>“Well of course I can find her! This is Gailan’s in the the Torchfire District in Lower Menthis. I can get you there in no time. It is just 2 copper Sir,” she says, holding out her hand to him expectantly. Carrion looks around in his pockets, coming up empty. He takes off his backpack and reaches inside, thinking about the coins he needs. He comes out with a single solid gold coin. <br><br>“This is all I have on me,” he says, handing it to her. Myn’s eyes go wide as saucers and snatches up the gold coin in a blink of an eye. <br><br>“I will take you anywhere you want Milord,” she says with a flourishing bow and a twinkle in her eye. “Ask and I shall deliver.” Carrion wondered if this is how his Master feels all the time. Perhaps. Myn took him by the hand and led him through the city. Time passed in a blur for Carrion as he is pulled through Sharn by Myn. It was so big, so colorful. He had never seen so many different kinds of people in one place before. If it wasn’t for Myn, he would be hopelessly lost. <br><br>“Here we are Milord,” she says, stopping in front of Gailan’s. “I told you I would find it for you. Her show should have already started by now. I am sorry for not being able to get you here in time to see the opening act.” She turns to him and gives him a downtrodden look that Carrion was helpless against. <br><br>“Oh no! Don’t be sorry,” he says, feeling horrible. “I just needed to find her. I need to protect her,” he says. He stops himself before he could say more but he feels he might have said too much already. <br><br>Myn gives her a big smile up at Carrion, sparkles in her eyes. “Protect her! Are you a knight Milord?” she says, hands grasped in front of her. Carrion had no idea how to respond to this, standing awkwardly in front of the establishment with an elf child looking up at him like her hero. <br><br>He leans down and whispers into her ear, “Yes, I am a Knight in service to my Master, charged with protecting this lady from evil. I don’t wish her enemies to know of me so you must keep quiet about this, alright?” he asks her. She smiles wider, cannot believing her luck to find herself right in the middle of such an adventure. <br><br>“Oh yes Milord!” she says in hushed excitement, nodding her head. “I will say nothing. If you ever need help from me again, just find me at the train station.” She gives him a small bow and a giggle and runs off into the streets.<br>Carrion stands, shaking his head and taking a deep breath to clear his thoughts. He turned and walked up to Gailans, slipping inside. The hostess stopped him once he got inside. <br><br>“Sir, this show has already started and seats are at a premium. The only seats we have left are the upper balcony and those are reserved for people of taste,” she says, giving him a once over, almost taking offence at his traveling clothes. <br><br>He shuffled awkwardly in front of the hostess, not wanting to fight. “How much is it for a table?” he asks, not wanting to look her in the eye. <br><br>“5 silver,” she says. Carrion pulled out another gold piece from his backpack and handed it to her. “Right this way sir,” she says with a big smile as she leads him up to top balcony. He takes a seat in a very well made, cushioned chair at the edge of the balcony with a great view on the stage. “A waiter will be right with you to take your order sir, enjoy your stay at Gailans,” the Hostess said with a smile. A bright flash startled Carrion as he turned to see the woman on the stage blowing fire out of her mouth. He was amazed that there was someone with the same abilities as him and he watched intently to her next act. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Blood Emerald</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>cat storm</strong> on <strong>01-05-2011, 23:55:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				For her final number, Kivaira began a tale of her own composition, one she had worked on for many nights.&nbsp; This was to be her first performance of it and the knowledge that so far all she had done was retell familiar tales, though with a flair all her own, had her nerves on edge.&nbsp; It was a far different thing to tell one that was hers alone, yet she would never consider herself a bard until she had gained a place as an author of tales as well.&nbsp; <br><br>Taking a deep breath, she launched into the story of a simple woman whose husband had been torn from her first by war and then by death at the hands of illness contracted in the soldiers’ camp.&nbsp; He had never even made it to the first battle and so was not afforded a hero’s death.&nbsp; Her tale was the woman’s lament that the world had not known him as the man she had known who would have made a hero of renown, had he but given the chance.&nbsp; She called it Sindra’s Lament and it ended on a haunting note of loss for young love and the hopes and dreams that accompany it.&nbsp; <br><br>As the spotlight closed upon her bowed head, she stood and waited what seemed to her a lifetime to see how the audience reacted as there was a long pause before they finally burst into deafening applause.&nbsp; Sighing with relief as the stage lights came back up, she lifted her head and smiled before bowing gracefully in appreciation and exiting the stage.&nbsp; <br><br>“I loved the new tale, Miss Kivaira,”&nbsp; Jon, the aging prop master flung over his shoulder as he quickly brushed past her to set up for the next act.<br><br>“Oh, yes, honey.&nbsp; That’s sure to be a requested one soon,” added Mathisa, the Halfling wardrobe mistress with a smile as she helped the young woman from her stage robes.&nbsp; “You do have a way with a tale.”<br><br>Kivaira thanked the two old people who had always been so kind to her as she learned her way around the stage.&nbsp; She had come to Sharn knowing nothing of stagecraft or theatre lore, thinking just telling a tale well was all there was to it.&nbsp; They had taken the time to teach her about the things that made a true difference for a public performance; costume, props, lighting, makeup and all the myriad of things the audience never realized helped to make the magic.&nbsp; In fact, she had learned, it was necessary that the spectators weren’t aware of those things, for if they were, the magic didn’t happen.&nbsp; <br><br>She closed the door to the dressing room and sat down before her mirror to remove the stage makeup, enjoying the peace and quiet as she let the good feelings from the audience’s approval continue to warm her.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Blood Emerald</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Jguy</strong> on <strong>28-06-2011, 03:02:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Tears threatened to fall from his eyes as Carrion listened to the end of the bard’s tale. He blinked rapidly and swallowed a big gulp of water to control his emotions.&nbsp; He pushed his plate away, finishing the food as he had listened to the bard spin her stories. He barely remembered eating the food much to his regret. It had smelled so good and he bet it had tasted just as good as well. <br><br>He watched the young lass exit from the stage as the next performer entered. Carrion wondered how this new guy would follow such an emotional performance. Best luck to him. He looked around and tried to find a way to the back of the building. Unfortunately, it seemed that besides the stage itself, there was no entrance from the front. He turned to the gentlemen sitting at the table next to him, a very well dressed gnome sporting a few very shiny rings. <br><br>“Sir,” Carrion said, “how do the actors get to the back stage?” he asks. The gnome turned and looked at the Mongrelfolk like he had just smelled something rancid. <br><br>“Why is a Half-orc like you even doing up here?” he said in a high-pitched tone. “Scrounge together enough coppers to see how your betters live I take it?” The sneer he gave would have made the Master proud. “Isn’t it obvious that there is a back entrance behind the building for the performers? Now leave me alone before I get security to throw you out.” The noble gnome turned away from Carrion and went back to eating his meal. <br><br>Carrion blinked a few times, straight faced as he quickly recovered from the tongue lashing. As lashing’s he’s gotten in his life, he’d rate it up there perhaps in the top 40…maybe 50. He gave the man a smile, showing his somewhat pointed teeth, turned and walked out of the building. <br>The bustle of the street had died down slightly and he didn’t feel as compressed as he had from earlier. He worked his way around the building and found the back entrance. It was a simple door and it had a rather large and menacing looking Orc standing guard at it. He was dressed in well kept black pants with a similar vest across his chest. His arms were bare though Carrion doubted that any shirt would fit on a man that large. <br><br>He looked to see if anyone was watching before calling upon his wings and taking flight. He soared up and landed atop the building, just overhead the guard. He took a deep breath and let out a thin stream of noxious fumes the soon enveloped the Orc. He sniffed and his grey skin took on a green hue. His hand clamped over his mouth and he ran over to a nearby trash can, unloading the contents of his stomach into it. Carrion floated down quietly and quickly stepped into the building before the guard had a chance to see him. <br><br>With a click, he closed the door behind him and now he was in the backstage of Gailan’s. It was quiet except for the occasional burst of laughter that wafted in from the front stage. He heard footsteps coming his way and he panicked for a second. His head shot back and forth, looking for a place to hide. None. He spotted a rack of costumes and dashed over there, standing in front of it with his back to the sound. Carrion made a big show of looking through the costumes, as if he was desperately and intently searching for ‘just the right one’. The footsteps drew closer and closer and Carrion started to panic. They paused for a second, seemingly inches from him, and then slowly start to move away. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in a big sigh of relief. <br><br>Looking up from the rack of costumes, he looked around for where Kivaira could be. Since she had just finished a show, more than likely she was in her dressing room. He decided to follow the sounds of the footsteps. Perhaps he would get lucky and it would lead him to Kivaira. <br><br>Luck was on his side when his enhanced ears picked up the faint voice of a woman. “Ms. Kitril, if you are all set I can take your dress to be cleaned. Also, I just want to say that your last story was your best one yet.” A voice responded but he was unable to make it out but it was most certainly that of the bard in question. He turned a corner towards the sound to see the back of a young woman going down the hall, dress being held carefully in her arms. As quietly as he could, he made his way down the hall and stopped at the door with Kivaira’s name on it. Opening the door, he steps in. <br><br>“Kivaira Cayosinmiirik Kitril D’ Lyrandar, I am Carrion Longbreath. I need your help.” <br>
			</dd>
		</dl>
		<div id="footer" class="smalltext">
			
			<span class="smalltext" style="display: inline; visibility: visible; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?action=credits" title="Simple Machines Forum" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF 2.0.19</a> |
 <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org/about/smf/license.php" title="License" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF © 2021</a>, <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org" title="Simple Machines" target="_blank" class="new_win">Simple Machines</a>
			</span>
		</div>