The Smolderlands {Pathfinder Based} IC: Orelyan Street
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Ixy on 18-08-2010, 05:50:45</h2>
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				Title: <strong>The Smolderlands {Pathfinder Based} IC: Orelyan Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>18-08-2010, 05:50:45</strong>
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				Orelyan Street is a street in name only.&nbsp; Bearing the name of a favored duke to the crown, the main drag through the fort-dependent city of Quinza is paved with pulverized shell and lined with less than two dozen tall-framed structures, their foundations propped on four-foot stilts to keep them above tidal surge and flash floods.&nbsp; Daily, it bears the weight of foot-traffic for ships' crews and those trying to symbiotically survive on them, the even clip of heat-wearied soldiers' matched boot-steps, the piss of burro-drawn wagons and the scratches of small scavenging reptiles.&nbsp; Here, a butcher boasts smoked alligator tail, "mellowed in goat's milk" for improved flavor.&nbsp; Across the way, that same gator's hide is being tanned in back of a leather-goods and dry goods store.&nbsp; Further down in the shade of a sprawling banyan, half-naked youths with sun-browned skin are making great gladiatorial sport with a few slats of bark containing a land-crab and a spur-heeled toad.<br><br>Heat rises palpably, and the daily rain is yet to come. Heat lightning occasionally ripples through the bruised and semi-conscious clouds that oppress the sky, and the merchant vessels visible at the end of the street nestle into the broad piers to furl their sails and suckle this land's oil and trade-able game.&nbsp; A monkish cleric of some monastic order or another drags his dogcart of smoky red wine bottles, casks, and kegs-- his bare feet and cart's wheels are black with the ash-rich soils of the insanely jagged hills where grapes grow in freakish terraces, and his wiry old frame moves with the steady determination of discipline and familiarity.<br><br>A soft rumble of thunder teases the populace... after a few days of this heat, the whores go to half-price because no one wants to sweat more than they already have.&nbsp; Conversely, the prices tend to leap in an afternoon rain, when the taverns open their heavy wooden shutters to fill their sand-mortared structures with cool breezes and it's no rare thing to see the denizens of this swampy lowland standing in that rain, staring up in the sky to where the steam of the undersea volcanoes meets the downpouring black clouds with ripples of wild lightning that speak of the gods' own revelry.<br><br>This is Quinza, and you are here.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Smolderlands {Pathfinder Based} IC: Orelyan Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Laughing Hyena</strong> on <strong>18-08-2010, 08:13:22</strong>
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				Davor Turvoc was in a foul mood due to the sweltering humidity of this place. Even his lightweight robes seemed no match for the horrible humidity and he found himself constantly in need of relief from this heat. However even his water skin couldn't provide the need for a cold drink of perhaps sweet wine or such. Hell for a place that supposedly had struck a diamond mine, this town didn't seem to show the least bit of intense wealth save for basic needs. Hell it couldn't even be called a town, more like a bloody hamlet! The sorcerer had hoped to purchase a plot of land or a house or such with his remaining wealth but that seemed like a dream made of sand now.<br><br>Frustrated he started heading for whatever equates to a tavern in this damn place. His sturdy boots crushed the shells underneath his heels as he treads upon the road. His eyes looked on though his did not make eye contact with anyone for the last thing he wanted was to frighten a bunch of people like this or have to waste precious energy. He did however catch sight of the monk and began approaching the dog cart wondering perhaps he could get the man to part with some of his wine. It was a long shot but he would kill for a drink at this point. Reflexively swatting at a bug that tried to land upon his clothed arms an exposed amount of pale bone white skin and trimmed silver grey nails was briefly seen before being covered up. The sorcerer spoke with a rough, dry edge to his voice, a mixture of human dialects with a strong tone of voice. <strong>"Greetings monk. I don't suppose you'd be willing to part with a bottle of vintage for fair compensation perhaps?"</strong>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Smolderlands {Pathfinder Based} IC: Orelyan Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Chloe Milev</strong> on <strong>18-08-2010, 16:48:27</strong>
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				"Keep working..." she called to the dock workers unloading a ship, by hand or by pulley.&nbsp; The longshoremen were stripped down to breeches and the like as they sweat through their work, and Aeran herself was similarly dressed in a strip of cloth around her chest and loin cloth.&nbsp; She walked up and down the pier, supervising and making sure nothing fell.&nbsp; While her workers watched her figure appreciatively as she strode past them, they knew to do nothing more than that.&nbsp; Aeran was quick with a suffocating headlock, and while being smothered in her bosom was not a bad way to die, the men learned their lesson:&nbsp; keep on task.&nbsp; On the other hand, she was the first to buy a round of drinks when their work was finished, so they came to respect her as a foreman.<br><br>The water looked so inviting, just a quick dip to cool off.&nbsp; There wouldn't be much evaporation, but just the cold ocean water was refreshing enough.&nbsp; Sometimes she did take a quick swim, and she noticed that work always stopped for a few seconds as she pulled her dripping body out of the ocean, flipping her long blond hair back over her head.&nbsp; <em>Sigh, not this time...</em> they had to get this ship unloaded today; instead she helped on the pulley, guiding a large create float over to a waiting wagon.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Smolderlands {Pathfinder Based} IC: Orelyan Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>DaddyCool</strong> on <strong>19-08-2010, 18:21:50</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Ajax was enjoying his walk, drinking in deep the sights of the city around him. He'd come to enjoy the city of Quinza. The temperature was fine, and being a hub for trade meant that you could find all manner of exotic goods and luxuries if you knew where to look. His funds from home had served him pretty well, and he was having a great time.<br><br>This morning he'd chosen to go out for a walk along the street. He enjoyed walking - his looks were not nearly as exotic here as they were back home, and he actually fit in surprisingly well. As he walked down the street he gave Aeran a quick glance as she worked, wondering what she was unloading. His thoughts were interrupted when he saw a cloaked figure move towards his wine delivery, and he quickly moved to intervene.<br><br>Clapping his hand on Davor's back, Ajax spoke, his voice deep and sonorous. "A bit late there, man. That wine is mine, and not for sale. Of course, if you can appreciate a fine vintage you are welcome to share a bottle with me. It can be rather hard to find people with nobler tastes in this city."
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Smolderlands {Pathfinder Based} IC: Orelyan Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>19-08-2010, 21:34:29</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://imgur.com/dwqLq.jpg)</div>&nbsp; Davor can see in the monk's eyes a glint of good-natured mischief, and he can practically taste the oak-aged wine on his tongue as the monk produces an unlabeled black-glassed bottle from the nearest case.&nbsp; The monk's mock-chiding glance, he's sure, will be followed by an offer-- of course, it's possible that <i>one</i> bottle might have broken after a hard jolt, and if the seal be broken then the gods themselves couldn't blame the monast from turning this misfortune into enjoyment, could they?&nbsp; His cheeks and nose, reddened and glistening with the thick sweat of the afternoon, hint that perhaps this has already been the case at least once on his long journey from the crags.<br><br>But as Ajax strides up, the monk's shining eyes widen ever-so-slightly and, without missing a beat, he conceals the momentary temptation.&nbsp; "Ah, mister Ajax-- certainly."&nbsp; He extends the bottle toward the noble-caste seeming man, "What better way to savor the approaching storms than with the fruit of their rains, hm?"&nbsp; He places the cork-and-wax sealed neck into Ajax's hand and then grins over at Davor.&nbsp; "Goodly met, and Tyr's blessings."&nbsp; He grunts softly and hauls the cart upright again, setting it rolling over the crunching shells again on his way.<br><br>By the docks, several slanted, rough-hewn timber roofs provide shade for vendors and tradesmen, complete with sanded benches to provide good visibility over the black-sand slopes and still harbor, a clean vantage point to overlook the long piers like horizontal pallisades riddled with knotted ropes and canvas sand-bags.&nbsp; Alternately, there's a good view of the piers and beach from the market, where the only competition for space would be a knot of loafing boys who've taken residence in the thatched-palm roof's shade to stare lustily at the piers.&nbsp; It's obvious from their gestures and the occasional, unpracticed vulgarity from their mouths that they're seeing something female and enticing.&nbsp; <br><br>Five ships sit the harbor at present-- two are Hadiran naval clippers, built for agility and power, and are being re-crewed and re-stocked by a staggered line of glistening and lean soldiers in 'work armor'-- meaning gloves, boots, and loincloths-- overseen by a couple of sergeants in the cuirass, leather jerkin, and crested helmets chosen by imperial legionary officers.&nbsp; Here, the sun or one's slowness of arm will kill faster than an arrow-- they're double-timing their work, chaining crates and bundles onto the deck by a gangplank and into the ships' compact holds.&nbsp; The stirring breeze promises rain soon.<br><br>The priapic lads manage to keep their voices low enough not to draw the ire or overt notice of the busty woman in the harbor, but it's obvious she's the cause for their attention.&nbsp; &nbsp;The dockhands used to her presence focus like zen monks at their work as they sing metered songs at the work, but there's little doubt that if they pass within her proximity they might have difficulty averting their gaze or suppressing a bitter scowl.&nbsp; But there's plenty of work; the barge is laden with products from cool-weather, and all the transport ship's men are on their brief furlough, seeking replacements for their lost crew and appeasement for their confined appetites.&nbsp; All but a few... a handful of hopefuls for a new life have set to wandering the streets, looking for dreams but likely to find only the bottle or the whip.&nbsp; <div class="floatright">(http://imgur.com/0EN5s.jpg)</div><br>Among them, a cluster of four well-built figures huddles in the main square, discussing in hushed voices.&nbsp; This group is different than the normal traveler-- these four are alien in a fashion... not salty dogs by any stretch, these few carry traveling gear and weapons.&nbsp; They have no footmen, an oversight no traveling mainland noble would commit.&nbsp; Three are armored, one is garbed in white silks and linen, sporting a broad-brimmed, veiled hat that shrouds him, or her, from the sun.&nbsp; They leave the street and move toward the stairs up to The Devil Ray, a tavern and cantina currently bustling with fresh orders and surrounded with a broad porch shaded with palm thatch.&nbsp; 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Smolderlands {Pathfinder Based} IC: Orelyan Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Laughing Hyena</strong> on <strong>20-08-2010, 00:24:56</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Davor grumbles a bit at this unfortunate turn of events denied the sweet taste of wine to his lips and he looked aggravated before turning his attention to Ajax. His green eyes were prominent with faint traces of pale white skin visible from under his hood of midnight blue and traces of white. He would give a faint grin at the prospect of a drink and that made his day just a bit brighter <strong>"Sounds good to me. But let us find some shade in this dreadfully hot place."</strong> Davor would look on at the bottle before he started looking for a pub. The Devil Ray seemed like a good a place as any but then his attention turned to the outsiders... well besides him anyway that were heading to that place. Maybe they were there for the same reason he was with this diamond mine. The cat calls he paid no mind to as he wasn't immediately interested in a woman just yet and that woman better be beyond beautiful if she was getting such cat calls. His attention returned to Ajax soon enough impatient for refreshment <strong>"Well stranger its best that if we have wine that we share a name and be off for the Devil Ray. I could use some shade and cooked food for once in this harsh heat."</strong> He moved on towards the promised land.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Smolderlands {Pathfinder Based} IC: Orelyan Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>DaddyCool</strong> on <strong>22-08-2010, 07:35:49</strong>
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				Ajax ignored the catcalls as he picked a bottle of wine from the cart - any woman earning that sort of attention wasn't worth his time. Directing the monk to his home, he started walking ahead with Davor. "My name is Ajax, and I'm here on business. Very newly set up, but comfortably so. I haven't been to the Devil Ray yet myself, so this should be interesting". Ajax smiled before buttoning up his shirt and walking alongside Davor, heading towards the Devil Ray. He carried his large sword on his back, loosely bound, and his walk had the practiced and measured gait of a trained warrior. He kept his eyes on the road ahead of him, and his manor gave the impression that there was something not quite right about him. While still attractive and assertive, there was something not quite right about him.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Smolderlands {Pathfinder Based} IC: Orelyan Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>22-08-2010, 22:01:19</strong>
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				Aeran is suddenly aware of the rapid pounding of feet sounding from the dock boards as someone approaches at a run.&nbsp; "Coming through-- coming through!" A lean-bodied young man, his head bound in a waterlogged towel in the fashion of some devotees to Fharlanghn have adopted in this land.&nbsp; "Mistress!" he calls aloud, "I have news!"&nbsp; The young man, Fahsen, frequently works on her crew to facilitate shipping arrangements, crew fluctuations, accommodations and the like-- though in his teens, the young man seems to unwaveringly sense changes in the city as if he had his finger on its pulse.&nbsp; "A ship just arrived-- unscheduled, and bearing minimal cargo.&nbsp; Travelers--"&nbsp; he gulps and tries to regain control of his breath, "--travelers only.&nbsp; &nbsp;Conscripted service, but not royal.&nbsp; Not tourists... they had no guards."&nbsp; He pants still, starting up at the tall woman's face, and shakes his head for emphasis.&nbsp; Then, his eyes glint giddily and his teeth flash in a knowing smile.&nbsp; "Something different about them.&nbsp; The cargo was minimal, and the dock hands said they'd made more on this trip than any before.&nbsp; The ship will stay at harbor-- empty but for supplies-- for <em>two fortnights</em>."<br><br>Grinning madly, he waits for her to make her assumptions.&nbsp; "Only four travelers.&nbsp; Three with blades like reaping scythes, and one they say never left his cabin-- never even saw his face!"&nbsp; The young man grins and turns his gaze back to the shoreline, as if expectantly.&nbsp; "Who the hell can afford passage on an empty ship, and then to keep the thing sitting like an empty bucket for four weeks?&nbsp; Just paying the crew to whore it up and get fat the whole while?"<br><br>***<br><br>The breeze was mild respite in the direct sun, but as Ajax and Davor enter the shade of the palm-thatched deck, the relief is immense.&nbsp; The porch on this shady side of the structure is not entirely crowded, and the ruckus inside is more cheerful than usual with the arrival of a giddy and well-paid crew.&nbsp; The 'welcome girls' from Madame Firth's down the row have evidently made their way here with the expedient awareness of flies to a fresh heap of elephant shit, and the crew inside is receiving bawdy flirtations before half the men have even received their first tankards.&nbsp; A pair of weather-worn benches sit against the near wall, and if the noise from inside is any indication, this bench is the best place to be.&nbsp; <br><br><div class="floatleft">(http://imgur.com/f0b9l.jpg)</div>&nbsp; A young woman in a leather apron makes her way along the sand just below where they sit on the porch, and they can tell from her apparent exhaustion and steady determination that she's obviously quite tired, but still trying to work.&nbsp; When she makes her way up the plank stairs just a few seconds after Ajax and Davor have ascended them, there's a pang of frustration on her face at all the noise.&nbsp; "Oh, hells another crew..." she then turns her attention to Ajax and Davor-- "Look, boys, I--"&nbsp; they can tell from her familiarity and rush that she works there, although, evidently, she's just arrived tired from some other task.&nbsp; <br><br>They see how she is about to tell them that orders will be taken inside only, but after a look into both their eyes, she immediately seems to recognize their distinction from the crew within.&nbsp; It's not for their apparent wealth-- which, by comparison to the average resident of this fort town, is considerable-- but rather she is somehow sympathetic, or perhaps receptive, to men who seem to have a civil air about them.&nbsp; "I'm sorry.&nbsp; It looks a mess in there... it'll be a fight getting your orders in, so if you'd like I can wait on you now."&nbsp; They can see that the blond woman's shirt is damp with fresh sweat and the leather soaked at the edges.&nbsp; "I see you've brought your drink," she tips her head indicative of the bottle they carry, "and I'll bring cups, but I'm sure you know that only patrons are allowed on the porch, so what else will it be?" 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Smolderlands {Pathfinder Based} IC: Orelyan Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Laughing Hyena</strong> on <strong>22-08-2010, 22:39:20</strong>
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				Davor's response was immediate and swift for he sought refuge from this heat and he would have it. <strong>"Firstly, I would care for from freshly cooked tators and biscuits and finally roasted chicken breast."</strong> He assumed such a simple order could be handled but maybe that wasn't on their menu. Might not surprise him with such an ludicrous heat. None the less once the order was taken he would head on inside with haste to have a look at what kind of table he could possibly secure for himself and Ajax, his drinking partner for tonight. The poor miss looked like she had been worked to the bone and seemed to be bathing in her own sweat. <br><br>Normally a sight that was becoming when one was naked but in the clothes and in this kind of heat that could be most unappealing. Davor knew that might affect her tips if she even got any for her services rendered. He contemplated something for the moment. When her back was turned and she was facing Ajax he smiled for a bit and decided to do something about this. He always was a bit picky for looking clean as one worked so when he had the chance he began turning his fingers about in the waitress' direction his voice completely silent as he would let one of his more minor but practical magic take hold. When it went off the waitress would realize her body felt a lot more cooler because her sweat was lifting off. Her clothes would become lifted and clean of sweat and grime giving her a much more presentable look. Like her clothes were still fresh. Davor would pretend nothing happened on the matter if he was confronted for the moment.<br><br>(Prestidigitation Cast. Duration: One Hour. Silenced)<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Smolderlands {Pathfinder Based} IC: Orelyan Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Chloe Milev</strong> on <strong>23-08-2010, 00:59:59</strong>
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				<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=79489.msg3517229#msg3517229">Quote from: Ixy on 22-08-2010, 22:01:19</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"Mistress!" he calls aloud, "I have news!"</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div>Aeran turned to the rapid thumping shaking the dock, seeing Fahsen in another rush.&nbsp; She knew it was probably important, from him.<br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"A ship just arrived-- unscheduled, and bearing minimal cargo.&nbsp; Travelers--"&nbsp; he gulps and tries to regain control of his breath, "--travelers only.&nbsp; &nbsp;Conscripted service, but not royal.&nbsp; Not tourists... they had no guards."&nbsp; He pants still, starting up at the tall woman's face, and shakes his head for emphasis.&nbsp; Then, his eyes glint giddily and his teeth flash in a knowing smile.&nbsp; "Something different about them.&nbsp; The cargo was minimal, and the dock hands said they'd made more on this trip than any before.&nbsp; The ship will stay at harbor-- empty but for supplies-- for <em>two fortnights</em>."</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div>This was indeed unusual; to make such a trip, one would fill their ship full of cargo and continue its use like a two-copper whore until its return.<br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">Grinning madly, he waits for her to make her assumptions.&nbsp; "Only four travelers.&nbsp; Three with blades like reaping scythes, and one they say never left his cabin-- never even saw his face!"&nbsp; The young man grins and turns his gaze back to the shoreline, as if expectantly.&nbsp; "Who the hell can afford passage on an empty ship, and then to keep the thing sitting like an empty bucket for four weeks?&nbsp; Just paying the crew to whore it up and get fat the whole while?"</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div>She grinned with him, and small fins on her forearms twitched as she contemplated the possibilities.&nbsp; "Thanks, Fahsen, that's another one I owe you," she winked.&nbsp; He was a valuable organizer and contact, she wished she could afford to give him a bonus from her own pocket, but the journey had strapped all her petty cash, leaving her to work to build up her nest egg for now.&nbsp; Until she made some real gold, she'd have to keep paying in flirtations.&nbsp; "Just four people chartering a boat to themselves, it sounds like adventurers."&nbsp; She knew well, the careless spending after a successful raid, tossing gold coins around like they weren't worth the bother of carrying.&nbsp; "Although they aren't usually so uniform, three of them with scythed blades?&nbsp; And a dark, mysterious master, no doubt.&nbsp; It sounded like the beginnings of another intrigue and adventure.&nbsp; This was her chance to find another big score, instead of sweating for a wage.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Smolderlands {Pathfinder Based} IC: Orelyan Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>DaddyCool</strong> on <strong>23-08-2010, 14:04:00</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Ajax let out a small, low laugh at seeing Davor's ministrations, before reaching out and grabbing the serving woman firmly by the shoulder. "And I shall have your best steak. None of that bulette meat for me. Served blue, of course. We'll sit on the balcony with a view over the port." He gave a dazzling smile, although it did not quite reach his eyes, before pushing the girl off and walking to the tables.<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Smolderlands {Pathfinder Based} IC: Orelyan Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>24-08-2010, 19:44:37</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://imgur.com/f0b9l.jpg)</div>At The Devil Ray, The young serving woman's eyes are wide as she feels the sudden rush of cool air from Davor's spell.&nbsp; When her thin shirt settles back against her flesh, it's against goose-pimpled flesh and-- thanks to the slight gap between the leather apron and her swells of breasts-- nipples made pert by surprise and cool air.&nbsp; The server's garb freshened, it's easier to see that she's quite attractive, and a fetching blush tints her cheekbones very suddenly.<br><br>She looks from Davor to Ajax and starts nervously at Ajax's grip-- she stands staring for a few brief seconds until her surprise and curiosity are overwhelmed by good sense, and she swiftly ducks through the batwing-style half-doors, their weight causing them to swing raucously back to their closed position after a few rattling back-swings.&nbsp; Though out of sight, they can easily imagine her progress through the room by the appreciative cat-calls.<br><br>*<br><br>Fahsen grins appreciatively at the buxom woman's understanding, glad that he wasn't alone in his insights.&nbsp; "They're at the cafe' now.&nbsp; Hopefully, getting a few good drinks in them to loosen their lips."&nbsp; He winks at that, his flirtation amusingly disarming for a youth.&nbsp; "And no worries.&nbsp; I'm sure they'll loosen plenty else, too."&nbsp; He makes his way toward the shore again-- "I know always where to bring my information first!&nbsp; And if you go adventuring with them, bring me along!"&nbsp; He lifts his hand in a brief salute before trotting back toward the fort, its gray bulk sitting like a squat, sleeping bull on the horizon.<br><br>The last of the cargo is being secured on and below decks, and the moorings are being loosed already.&nbsp; "Shall we send them on, dockmaster?"
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Smolderlands {Pathfinder Based} IC: Orelyan Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Laughing Hyena</strong> on <strong>24-08-2010, 23:21:08</strong>
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				Seems as though there was a slight mistake in his plan to cool her off but all the same it was appreciated. Davor noticed the blush and wonder if she thought Ajax pulled that trick off. With a shrug of his shoulder, he focused on the wine. <strong>"Prefer warm or chilled wine Ajax?"</strong> he asked as he leans back thinking on something. <strong>"So what brings you to such a humid and unforgiving place?"</strong> Davor asked wanting to know the man across from him. <br><br>Davor thought further on the tavern girl he had cooled off and admitted she was very lovely. His eyes shut committing her being to memory. His hands drum slowly figuring that perhaps one of them would bed her by the end of this day. But also the fact that he waited patiently for some of that refreshment for whilst she may be cooled off Davor was not.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Smolderlands {Pathfinder Based} IC: Orelyan Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Chloe Milev</strong> on <strong>25-08-2010, 01:24:39</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Hmm, well, whoever they were, they were normal enough to seek out drink and company if they're in a tavern.&nbsp; "I'll think about it!" she called after the retreating boy.&nbsp; Heh, bringing him on an adventure; it was tempting, to give an enterprising young man a chance to put his skills to use.&nbsp; But he might have been a little young; maybe it was best to leave him to take over some shipping business eventually instead of risk death.&nbsp; But first, it was time to see if adventure was even afoot.<br><br>The boat they were working on finished, she gave it her final focus.&nbsp; "Yes, everything being secure, they're free to depart.&nbsp; She finished her business with the ship, making sure all her responsibilities were seen to before taking her leave.&nbsp; With a short jog, she dove into the water with the smallest splash, using the momentum to propel her quickly through and around the crowded docks.&nbsp; She swam a little outside the busy area to where she kept her supplies hidden in a little rocky nook on the shore.&nbsp; She always liked to freshen up with a swim after working in the hot sun, but walking around dripping wet, her scraps of clothing plastered to her clothes was a bit distracting to others.&nbsp; Hence, she kept a change of comfortable clothes here to dry off and change in to, making herself a little more decent for polite land-dwelling society in a vest and belted tunic down to her thighs.&nbsp; Ready to finally investigate some new business, she jogged back to the docks hub, figuring the adventurers would go to the <em>Devil Ray</em>.<br>............................................<br>Aeran entered the cafe, looking around at the patrons.&nbsp; She wasn't intimately familiar with the locals, but could probably tell the difference between some poor sailor on leave and three or four rich adventuring types.&nbsp; If they were smart, they wouldn't be carrying giant scythes around, but they would probably stand out anyway.&nbsp; She made her way to the bar, waiting to get some attention for an after-work drink.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Smolderlands {Pathfinder Based} IC: Orelyan Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>DaddyCool</strong> on <strong>25-08-2010, 07:42:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ajax reclined in his chair, sprawled out in a posture that left him completely open, a glass of wine in his hand.<br><br>"Room temperature, of course. Spiced wine is an exception, but this isn't spiced wine."<br><br>Ajax raised his glass and and tapped Davor's with his before drinking. It was a rather nice wine - Ajax had a good eye for luxury goods.<br><br>"Hot and humid? I don't really feel the heat, per se. I'm from somewhere much, much hotter than here, so it really doesn't bother me all that much. But there are plenty of natural resources in the area, and my family needed someone they could trust to oversee their operations down here. Of course, there weren't actually any operations down here, so I've got my work cut out for me."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Smolderlands {Pathfinder Based} IC: Orelyan Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>26-08-2010, 02:44:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Aeran's boots crush the pulverized shell path softer than the average traveler, but she's rather hard to miss-- though more demurely dressed than a few moments before, it's obvious that she's trancended beyond the bounds of mortal physics in that she moves like a cat with a figure that is almost overwhelming to see.&nbsp; &nbsp;Seven or so of the locals in the Devil Ray look up reflexively as she enters through the batwing doors-- mouths open and eyes wide in awe-- before they snap their gaze back to their mugs or their knife-games.&nbsp; They share a mutual groan over the mayhem that is about to ensue, for it's a scene any hard-drinker of the city has become most familiar with.<br><br>The strangers from the recently arrived ship are evident-- they've taken a long table near the corner, and one of the armored men is dismissing the second of a pair of boldly soliciting prostitutes who have wisely pegged the four strangers as possessing of a bit more coin than the dozen salty dogs.&nbsp; The girls bide their time, a couple jealously scowling at Aeran, but a couple others playing it wise-- let them get riled up at the sight and they'll get desperate... indeed, the wisest of the whores knows she can charge double tonight.<br><br>A trio of the new sailors, freshly armed and dangerous with fresh flagons of the cheap ale that Bartleby (the Tiefling proprietor of the establishment) affectionately refers to as 'Dogpiss Soda', lay eyes upon Aeran's assets before the locals can warn them away.&nbsp; They move quick, their months at sea having reduced their good sense as well as their manners, and they move to take up Aeran's company-- "Holy shit, LAND HO!" says, "Aye, and a mountainous land at that!" answers the second.&nbsp; The third merely stares, a thin rope of drool dangling from his protruding lower lip.&nbsp; <br>(http://imgur.com/Z5Rwy.jpg) (http://imgur.com/v9iq7.jpg)<br><br>*<br>On the porch, Ajax and Davor have a clear view of an an incredibly sexy young woman who struts up the steps and through the doors. The bounce in her chest is practically hypnotic.&nbsp; Just after she enters, they hear a ruckus-- no surprise-- and the serving girl ducks her way out.&nbsp; She bears a tray-- two bowls and a small basket sit upon it, draped in cheesecloth, and two upside down copper chalices as well.&nbsp; She sets them down rapidly-- two wooden spoons follow, and she sets up the cups.&nbsp; She seems embarrassed to make eye contact with either man.&nbsp; "The menu is a little short today..." the bowl evidently contains a roast turnip, crab, and citrus stew, and in the second there's a pair of kallish skeweres-- fine-boned flying lizards, easily raised and fattened in captivity, skinned and grilled to be basted with coconut oil.&nbsp; The good news is that they <i>taste</i> like chicken, and skinned and prepared properly they can be eaten whole.&nbsp; The bones add a nice crunch.<br><br>The girl seems about to speak, then turns away with her wooden tray.&nbsp; She then turns back with her mouth open and her eyes expectant-- "Ah-- pardon me.&nbsp; I'm--"&nbsp; She dips her face, then continues speaking.&nbsp; "If you're with those others in there... if that was magic?&nbsp; I want to know what you're doing here."&nbsp; She looks up then, as if trying to make eye contact, but stares at the glinting sun and roiling clouds' reflections on the harbor.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Smolderlands {Pathfinder Based} IC: Orelyan Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Laughing Hyena</strong> on <strong>26-08-2010, 04:26:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=79489.msg3536473#msg3536473">Quote from: Ixy on 26-08-2010, 02:44:00</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">Aeran's boots crush the pulverized shell path softer than the average traveler, but she's rather hard to miss-- though more demurely dressed than a few moments before, it's obvious that she's trancended beyond the bounds of mortal physics in that she moves like a cat with a figure that is almost overwhelming to see.&nbsp; &nbsp;Seven or so of the locals in the Devil Ray look up reflexively as she enters through the batwing doors-- mouths open and eyes wide in awe-- before they snap their gaze back to their mugs or their knife-games.&nbsp; They share a mutual groan over the mayhem that is about to ensue, for it's a scene any hard-drinker of the city has become most familiar with.<br><br>The strangers from the recently arrived ship are evident-- they've taken a long table near the corner, and one of the armored men is dismissing the second of a pair of boldly soliciting prostitutes who have wisely pegged the four strangers as possessing of a bit more coin than the dozen salty dogs.&nbsp; The girls bide their time, a couple jealously scowling at Aeran, but a couple others playing it wise-- let them get riled up at the sight and they'll get desperate... indeed, the wisest of the whores knows she can charge double tonight.<br><br>A trio of the new sailors, freshly armed and dangerous with fresh flagons of the cheap ale that Bartleby (the Tiefling proprietor of the establishment) affectionately refers to as 'Dogpiss Soda', lay eyes upon Aeran's assets before the locals can warn them away.&nbsp; They move quick, their months at sea having reduced their good sense as well as their manners, and they move to take up Aeran's company-- "Holy shit, LAND HO!" says, "Aye, and a mountainous land at that!" answers the second.&nbsp; The third merely stares, a thin rope of drool dangling from his protruding lower lip.&nbsp; <br>(http://imgur.com/Z5Rwy.jpg) (http://imgur.com/v9iq7.jpg)<br><br>*<br>On the porch, Ajax and Davor have a clear view of an an incredibly sexy young woman who struts up the steps and through the doors. The bounce in her chest is practically hypnotic.&nbsp; Just after she enters, they hear a ruckus-- no surprise-- and the serving girl ducks her way out.&nbsp; She bears a tray-- two bowls and a small basket sit upon it, draped in cheesecloth, and two upside down copper chalices as well.&nbsp; She sets them down rapidly-- two wooden spoons follow, and she sets up the cups.&nbsp; She seems embarrassed to make eye contact with either man.&nbsp; "The menu is a little short today..." the bowl evidently contains a roast turnip, crab, and citrus stew, and in the second there's a pair of kallish skeweres-- fine-boned flying lizards, easily raised and fattened in captivity, skinned and grilled to be basted with coconut oil.&nbsp; The good news is that they <i>taste</i> like chicken, and skinned and prepared properly they can be eaten whole.&nbsp; The bones add a nice crunch.<br><br>The girl seems about to speak, then turns away with her wooden tray.&nbsp; She then turns back with her mouth open and her eyes expectant-- "Ah-- pardon me.&nbsp; I'm--"&nbsp; She dips her face, then continues speaking.&nbsp; "If you're with those others in there... if that was magic?&nbsp; I want to know what you're doing here."&nbsp; She looks up then, as if trying to make eye contact, but stares at the glinting sun and roiling clouds' reflections on the harbor.<br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>Davor blinked a few times finding himself in quiet admiration of the female body once more but had the composure to keep his thoughts silent. She was quite breath taking and very beautiful. One could have fantasies in their sleep because of her. He shifted slightly before he noticed the more comely looking serving girl approach as she too was quite fetching when she was cleaned up well. Even when she wasn't he admits she's still beautiful. But what was more beautiful was the breathtaking cuisine that came his way. Whilst it was limited to its own resources he found no fault in the replacements for his order. His mouth was salivating as looked at the food. The aroma and look of the cuisine... it was quite delicious. He prefers his own wine chilled so when he had the chance to chill his cup of wine he did with minor magic as the copper cup turned frosted and sweated cool liquid along the outside. More then likely the serving girl would see that small display and could easily peg him as the one who cooled her off. And also inadvertantly made her blush. <br><br>Davor would speak up when she started becoming timid and asked about his magic and the like <strong>"M'lady, there's no need to be fearful of the likes of me. Especially when the worst I could do is give some relief from the sweltering heat for you."</strong> He said gently his voice clear and well articulated, the signs of an enlightened man. He sipped his wine before continuing on. <strong>"Now Ma'am, what exactly do you mean when you mention the others. Perhaps those four travelers? Well, I am not with them. I am here on my own if you can believe such a thing."</strong> He placed down four gold coins as her personal tip which might be considerably generous if one could see the conditions of this village. His eyes would maintain proper hemisphere with the serving woman as he then asked <strong>"So what news has reached your ears by chance? Anything interesting of note around the town?"</strong> He did however pay attention to the sailors and their pestering of perhaps a dangerous woman in the ways of Aeran. Still if it looked like there might be more trouble then the place or her could handle he would keep himself steady.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Smolderlands {Pathfinder Based} IC: Orelyan Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Chloe Milev</strong> on <strong>26-08-2010, 16:17:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				[Oh, I see, the four "adventurers" at long table, and then presumably their newly-paid sailors.]<br><br>"Indeed, as the waves crash and spend themselves upon the rocky craggs, I'm sure you'd like to run aground," she draws a hand across her tunic drawn tight against her bust, even as she gives back their innuendo just as well as she could take.&nbsp; Some new-come sailors, drunk with ale and lust.&nbsp; She could easily put them in their place, but wanted some information before anything happened.<br><br>She decided to try a more direct approach.&nbsp; Smiling at the gathered prostitutes, she walked to the sailors, sitting on the lap of the first one!&nbsp; Leaning in to whisper breathily into his ear, "Now, it looks like you boys have done right well for yourselves.&nbsp; Gotten paid by some rich fatcats for an easy trip?&nbsp; I'd be ever so grateful for a little inside info of their purpose.&nbsp; Why don't you whisper it into my li'l ear..."&nbsp; One hand around his shoulder, the other strokes the other side of his rough, dirty face.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Smolderlands {Pathfinder Based} IC: Orelyan Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>DaddyCool</strong> on <strong>26-08-2010, 17:48:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ajax narrowed his eyes as Davor ignored him in favour of the serving girl, before raising a hand and giving the serving girl a firm slap on the ass, leaving a mark. <br><br>"I think you've still got some work to do, little girl."<br><br>As she reacted, Ajax pointed Davor's gaze to Aeran, smiling appreciatively. <br><br>"I think we're about to see two men get eaten alive. Not literally of course, but it should still be entertaining to watch."<br><br>Ajax then started eating his meal, enjoying the relatively simple food, which went rather well with the wine he'd chosen.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Smolderlands {Pathfinder Based} IC: Orelyan Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>28-08-2010, 15:30:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				On the Porch (I'm fudging the sequence of actions slightly for continuity):<br><br><div class="floatleft">(http://imgur.com/f0b9l.jpg)</div>Davor's comment is greeted by another slight blush from the serving girl with the sun-brassy skin.&nbsp; She swallows nervously and then folds her hands before her hips, crossing them at the wrist and entwining her fingers as she shrugs her shoulders forward.&nbsp; "I understand.&nbsp; They're just different is all, and... you showing up at the same time as those four, I thought it was quite a coincidence."<br><br>Swallowing and casting a look back over her shoulder, the young woman's elegant neck stretches swan-like before she turns back to the two men.&nbsp; There are a couple of raucous laughs but the rest of the tavern's grown quite silent.&nbsp; "There are rumors of a gem mine to the west, but some say it's flooded.&nbsp; Others say it's just crystal... it's hard to say who to believe.&nbsp; But those four inside are pretty much all people are talking about."&nbsp; <br><br>Ajax's swat on her ass-- throught the linen skirt, he can feel her taut cheek tense and resist the blow, and her eyes glisten with a mingle of outrage and the sting.&nbsp; Obviously, she has a bit of a temper, and she shows no fear in staring him down, her jaw suddenly clenched and her hands balled into fists.&nbsp; She takes up the coins from the table and stalks away, her brow furrowed with her barely contained anger.<br><br>*<br>Inside the Devil Ray Cafe<br><br><div class="floatleft">(http://imgur.com/Z5Rwy.jpg)</div> <br><br>As Aeran strides her way over to the sailors, there's a spreading hush over the room.&nbsp; "Oh, hell, here we go--" says someone in one corner, under his breath.&nbsp; Then-- as much to the surprise of the townsfolk as the sailors themselves, Cloe's thin-clad and generous ass pivots its way into the wiry-legged lap of the least dirty, and most intelligent-looking, of the three men.&nbsp; He grunts a soft "oh" at her presence, at the welcomed pressure of her ample bust into his chest and jaw.&nbsp; "Oh, yes... nothing compared to this though.&nbsp; Holy hells--" she can feel his erection swelling suddenly and prominently under her thigh.&nbsp; "Oh, anything you'd care to know, doll-- I'm yours--"<br><br>The thinner of the two men, goateed and slightly bug-eyed, stares on with open mouth as his friend makes such quick progress-- an expression that quickly becomes an open-mouthed, sparely-toothed laugh as he raises his mug in salute.&nbsp; "Dogal the mighty he IS!"&nbsp; and his fellows cheer encouragingly as well... except the big guy beside him, who seems either incredibly intoxicated or mentally handicapped as he stares into her eyes in awe of how pretty they are.<br><br>Dogal, inadvertently introduced, places one hand on the buxom woman's waist and strokes appreciatively the hourglass-shape from her flank to her hip.&nbsp; "Sure, lovely-- we're flush right now!&nbsp; The one't hired us are a good lot, as we'n tell, but prob'ly religious bunch.&nbsp; Three guards and a priest or something-- never seen'is face, the one who don't speak, just wears that veil around all the time.&nbsp; We was bettin' on if it was a bloke or a mare!"&nbsp; The three erupt into riotous laughter, and are joined by a couple other sailors-- a few of the locals nearby turn back to their tables and drinks, hoping not to seem overly curious.&nbsp; Another townsman-- a wiry rat of a young man-- peeks up from behind a larger fellow he'd ducked behind.&nbsp; "Ain't she a-gwoin to kill'im?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Smolderlands {Pathfinder Based} IC: Orelyan Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Laughing Hyena</strong> on <strong>30-08-2010, 23:54:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Davor looked to Ajax when he shooed his little source of information away <strong>"What was wrong with a small scrap of information my friend? Granted perhaps it was a bit too forward for the norm. Or are you jealous that my eyes wandered away from you?"</strong> Davor teased sipping the drink and letting his food cool a bit before he digs in. His teeth easily grind the fragile flying lizard bones into dust along with the meat and he sipped and savored the stew letting the flavors dance along his taste buds. He looked over to the woman flirting with the drunken sailors knowing she had it under control as he then says to Ajax <strong>"50 gold says that when it comes to blows she kicks their ass in about fifty seconds."</strong> His eyes occasionally check on the serving girl.<br><br>(Aka Five Rounds)
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Smolderlands {Pathfinder Based} IC: Orelyan Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Chloe Milev</strong> on <strong>31-08-2010, 05:00:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Rich pilgrims with swords, huh?&nbsp; That's a bit strange, don't ya think?&nbsp; What do you suppose they're here for, Doogy?"&nbsp; She's not sure what kind of woman would flirt with these men, but went with vapid and questioning.&nbsp; Feeling him swell under her thigh, she knew whatever she did, he wouldn't care what type she was.&nbsp; Keeping the information-hole gabbing, she wriggled her hips a little on him, encouragingly.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Smolderlands {Pathfinder Based} IC: Orelyan Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>DaddyCool</strong> on <strong>31-08-2010, 17:51:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"What makes you think something's wrong? And think not that I was jealous, although it is an understandable error. " Ajax reclined back and laughed, smiling at the annoyance of the serving girl. As he raised a glass of wine to his lips he smiled, before looking over at the girl caught up with the sailors.<br>"50 gold? What do you take me for? I wouldn't bet 5 copper against that happening, unless I got to directly interfere. Which would be fun, but would rather defeat the point of a bet, I think. "
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Smolderlands {Pathfinder Based} IC: Orelyan Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>01-09-2010, 20:19:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Where Davor and Ajax enjoy their meal, there's a ripple of thunder like a crumbling mountainside, and the breeze rolls through the porch hard enough to ripple their napkin and stir their hair.&nbsp; The cool air is refreshing, if a bit on the humid side.&nbsp; The servant girl stays out of sight within the cafe, but they can hear the movement of several pairs of feet as the thatch edging rustles above them.&nbsp; The sloop Aeran was supervising takes advantage of this rush of wind-- perfect timing, they're setting sail at a humming pace thanks to the overland-cooled storm billowing down from the crags-- this time of day, that's where the updrafts end up, as hot air collides with and rises up the jagged peaks of the volcanic spires up the north coast.&nbsp; The small craft can be heard in the distance as it scoots out of the harbor, its small crew emitting a cheerful whoop in satisfaction that is drowned by the rush of wind at the approaching storm.<br><br>((Please roll Perception checks.&nbsp; Reminder: Please use InvisibleCastle's dice roller, specifying the campaign name as Smolderlands...the S is capitalized.&nbsp; Paste the link as part of your response, because it doesn't come into play this round.))<br><br>The men are privy, despite the wind, to a reasonable approximation of what's happening within.<br><br>*<br><br>Inside, Aeran's new acquaintance, emboldened by her flirtations, places his hand between her thighs and kneads the flesh up near the junction of her legs.&nbsp; When she squirms on his lap, he groans excitedly and his free hand goes to cup her bottom unabasedly.&nbsp; He looks like he's getting impatient, but something about the look in her eyes warns him that he wants to keep trying to make her happy, just in case she's not all ready yet... "Well... my tales of the faithful are few and droll, m'love, but I hear told that..."<br><br>The needly-eyed compatriot breaks in, "Oi, it was me told you--"<br><br>"Shaddit!" Dogal spits back, before resuming his gap-grinned assuring smile.&nbsp; "I hear told something about the <i>Mole-Razzak</i>..." ((religion or history knowledge check welcome for any in earshot))<br><br>The sound that follows strikes instinctual fear into the inhabitants of the tavern as surely as if a dire viper had just reared its head mid-bar; it is the hiss of blades unsheathed and the soft coo of wooden chairs being scooted on the plank floor.&nbsp; From the corner of the room where the strange arrivals have been sitting, three men in half-plate and raised-hood cloaks step toward the edge of the bar Aeran occupies with her present company.&nbsp; The big guy, who thusfar has been apparently contemplating the gravitational forces of Aeran's chest, suddenly springs to life and hoists a hook-tipped knife, his chair slung back a dozen feet and crashing into a table with the force of his motion.&nbsp; Bottles crash to the hard floor, and there's a few surprised grunts and even a shriek from one of the merchants' wives.<br><br>The three men are hosting two-handed blades, each with a sloping, broad curve down.&nbsp; It's apparent that these four-foot tabas blades' size and weight would probably make them exceptional for chopping just about anything.&nbsp; They are forming a fan to sweep the room, but, as of yet, have not moved.<br><br>On the plus side, in the silence the follows, Dogal isn't quite so priapic.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Smolderlands {Pathfinder Based} IC: Orelyan Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Chloe Milev</strong> on <strong>02-09-2010, 04:28:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				[Perception 6 (though I'm not sure if she has to hear anything important), Religion 19, History 13 (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2672711/)]<br><br>Aeran was glad she learned something at the monestary.&nbsp; She didn't enjoy her studies much, but the monks managed to drill some broad swathes of knowledge into her before she left.&nbsp; Something of what the sailor said sounded familiar, but more familiar was the sound of a blade being drawn.&nbsp; Aeran is instantly on her feet, apparently her discreteness blown.&nbsp; Her hands are raised conciliatorally, but also ready to defend herself.<br><br>"Now listen here, boys, we don't need any trouble here, especially with blades.&nbsp; There've been plenty of bar fights here, but drawing steel is just bad manners.&nbsp; What say we put those away right now, hmm?"&nbsp; She puts on a little of the glower that most sailors have known to leave well enough alone, but these strangers don't look like the types to slink away so early.<br><br>[Intimidate 20 (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2672768/)]
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Smolderlands {Pathfinder Based} IC: Orelyan Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Laughing Hyena</strong> on <strong>02-09-2010, 05:07:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				(Perception Roll: 19+5 = 23 ; http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2672818/ (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2672818/) )<br>(Knowledge (History) Roll: 3+1 = 4 ; http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2672821/ (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2672821/) )<br><br><hr><br>::Davor could clearly hear what was going on inside and it was approaching where Aeran was busily flirting. Weapons had already been drawn and he wondered if she could pull such a situation around however Davor was not going to wait for such a possibility to occur. He looked to Ajax quietly asking without words if he was coming with him to help the woman and stop the lethal bar fight or not. Either way Davor saw them fanning out and he rose to his feet setting down his favorite mug still filled with wine. Still he waited until violence actually escalates but if one of those bastards came close to him with those pointy weapons he would react::
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Smolderlands {Pathfinder Based} IC: Orelyan Street</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>DaddyCool</strong> on <strong>02-09-2010, 08:32:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2672883/ (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2672883/)<br>Perception 20, Knowledge 11<br><br>Ajax smiled when he saw the barfight, raising his glass and then looking back at Davor, his words burning into Davor's mind without Ajax opening his mouth. (Ajax has telepathy)<br><br>"Of course I'm going to help the lethal bar fight. This sword is yet to be blooded, and I can feel its' hunger. Blood and wine make for an excellent combination, no? And yes, I guess I will be "ending" the fight, with any luck."<br><br>Ajax stood up and pulled his sword from his back. It had a plain hilt and a vicious looking serrated edge, looking supernaturally sharp. The edge was a strange, vibrant red colour, and it looked sharp enough to cut people with. Careful observers also noticed that a leathery tail had become visible, a tail with a sharp point that glistened a strange colour. Ajax was breathing heavily, his eyes lit up. He could feel his blood burning, the call of his ancestors telling him what he must do, and his fingers ran across the hilt of his sword, eager to let it swing.
			</dd>
		</dl>
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