theImmortalThief on 15/7/2006 at 06:29
Hey There fellow taffers!
It's been a while since we've had a good old RPG thread so I thought the time is ripe for some nice adventure! :D
The following story is the beginning of an old RPG that started at Clan NBU (R.I.P.) but never went further.
Feel free to contribute to the story! You can continue the existing characters stories, add characters, twist the plot, untwist the plot and about any other thing you want to do with the story. :)
City of Sorrow
Post 1 by theImmortalThief:
The captain took another look at the dock as his ship slowly pulled in. It had been as long journey and he had this satisfied feeling of accomplishing something.
Half an hour later the crew where unloading the cargo. He eyed the 20 long boxes that he had shipped here. He didn't know what was in them but he was happy to be finally rid of them. The guy who had had them shipped had offered a lot of money the second half of which he was supposed to receive at delivery. Still, this would be the last time he would agree to take a shipment without knowing what was in it. This one seemed to have cursed the trip. Things had gone wrong from the very beginning of the journey and everything somehow tied in with the boxes. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of shouts coming from below.
Looking down he saw a group of thugs entangled with his men. The men were giving as good as they got and soon the thugs ran off.
"That's odd" thought the captain, "What were they after?"
Turning back toward where the twenty mysterious boxes had been stacked the captain stunned with what he saw. Or more so with what he didn't see.
The boxes where gone! It seemed near impossible someone could have carried them off while his back was turned. "There goes the rest of my payment!" and worse still, how would answer for their disappearance when they came to pick them up.
He didn't need to worry much about the second thought; no one ever came to claim the stolen boxes.
It was from that very night that odd things started to happen in the city.*
Post 2 by CobbleNob:
Sergeant Fred Horn of the night watch was doing his regular beat down the street. It had been a quite good day on the whole. He'd managed to bag his first mugger in 2 weeks, ok the guy did trip over him while running away but he still felt good when he put the handcuffs on him! He'd also been made his favorite pie by his wife, chicken and leek, mmm.... his mouth was drooling just thinking about it. When he gets back he's gonna--
Sergeant Horn suddenly snapped out of his musings. That's strange, he thought, I seem to have taken a wrong turn. Must have taken an early turning off Cobbble street into this ally. That doesn't happen much, where am I? Don’t recognize this place at all....
The shadows closed in around him.
Post 3 by theImmortalThief:
Further away, in another part of the city Triston was having one his worse nights in a long time. He hadn't had any luck picking any pockets that night. The city patrol seemed to be everywhere. No money, no meals, and that was a thought that didn't leave him a very happy man.
Peaking down an alley, to his great joy he saw the back door to a fairly large house cracked open.
"This is my chance!" he thought as he crept through the door. Inside the house was filled with an eary silence. That kind of unnerved him but he didn't let it get to him. There was no one around! This seemed too good to be true! He preceded upstairs toward the bedrooms.
He cracked the door open and peered inside. There were two people lying on the bed, apparently asleep. He entered and went toward the dresser. Anything valuable would most likely be kept there.
As he passed through the room a darker darkness seemed to detach itself from the shadows and flout after him but went unnoticed by the excited thief.
The sleeping figures were oddly silent, thought Triston, and he decided to take a closer look.
There was a man and a woman; both with bulging eyes and a face seemed to have frozen in the middle of a scream. Their hands seemed to be clawing at the air and the women's back was arced in a very wrong manner.
This horrible scene left Triston speechless. After a second he gathered enough of his wits to turn and leave, but suddenly stopped as though frozen... and screamed...and screamed...and screamed...
In moments silence returned to the now empty of life house.
[ooc] Come on taffers! Lets see what kind of masterpiece we end up with! [/ooc]
nicked on 15/7/2006 at 10:17
Not sure quite what this thread is about, but I guess it's a story continued by each person who posts???
Anyway, here's mine. If I misunderstood, please delete and laugh: :cheeky:
As the clocktower struck a mournful 12 tolls, a figure moved away from the narrow window overlooking a narrow street. The moonlight heightened the contrast in the room and deep shadows hid the figure's face.
Footsteps creaked across the dusty floorboards of the attic room, and a briefly illuminated hand pulled a book from the room's solitary bookcase. With a dull rumble, the entire bookcase swung slowly aside, revealing a dust-laden corridor beyond. A dim lantern at one end threw a dirty orange glow down the length of the corridor. Instinctively ducking his face out of sight, the figure turned to the left, away from the lantern light. He reached the end and climbed down a rickety old ladder into a bookcase lined study. A few logs sat undisturbed in a stone hearth. This time when the figure took a book from the shelf, the bookcase remained stationary. Unseen eyes pored over the arcane writings within, searching for a particular passage. And there it was: the prophecy.
"And on the fifteenth day of the month of the seventh month in the year of Thirteen Forty Six, a ship shalt arrive in the harbours of the city, bearing a most hideous cargo. The curse that disembarks shalt sweep the city and all shalt be destroyed."
The book slammed shut, sending up a billowing puff of dust. Carefully returning it to it's place, the figure leaned into the shaft of light dismally showing over the top of the nearby ladder. The glow momentarily revealed a sharp set of teeth contorted into a thin-lipped shark-like smile...
Raven on 15/7/2006 at 11:17
Over in the Old Tavern by the docks Philip called for another pint of what could roughly be called beer. Over an hour late and counting Philip’s patience was wearing thin. How were they to plan anything if this taffer wasn’t going to show?
The drinking hole had been relatively quiet when he entered but it was now brimming; well fuelled workers fell in and out of the door way, spilling onto the street. A group of about 7 or 8 men that flowed between the bar and a set of tables by the entrance had raised heads upon entering. Bruised and bloodied with one man obviously limping, their wounds were at odds with their manner. They swaggered in and demand attention in the form of beer, food, women and even healing potions. Expense was not going to be an issue for these men as they enjoyed their night. Philip had considered befriending the group. He was due some attention himself and he could make sure the money was spent wisely, but he had grander plans. Well, he did have plans, but now he would have to alter them – something he wasn’t keen to do.
As the din grew around him Philip stared into the empty tankard considering his next actions. What a waste of an evening, four beers in and now his thoughts weren’t as sharp as they should be. Groaning in defeat his hand fell onto his knife, it was always sharp. As he slipped the blade out of it’s sheath the room exploded into violence.
theImmortalThief on 15/7/2006 at 11:56
Violence in pubs was what he always waited for.
As the pub erupted, Eric, who had been sitting in a shadow across from the pub, picked his moment and slipped his little frame in to the commotion. Tables had been overturned, glasses shattered and bottles broken. But what Eric was after was the coins that always scattered across the floor as people hastily pushed back tables and drew weapons. He darted from table to table and between legs and had gathered 4 silver coins and 1 bronze when finally someone noticed and cried out. His shout was lost in all the noise of course but people noticed the direction the angry man was moving. (This man was philips, but Eric did not know this then). Some tried to intercept the man thinking that he was running off with something and Eric was able to dive out of the pub unharmed but with his pocket full of what would soon turn into a few hot meals.
Life had always been hard for street urchins like Eric, but recently it had gotten extremely dangerous too. A few of his friends had gone missing and some members of the Thief guild had not reported back from night missions. All this had started 3 or 4 days ago. The general public had not yet noticed, because of course, who would notice the disappearance of a few street urchins and thieves? Even if they did they'd probably thank their gods for the blessing of ridding them of a few beggars. But the underground, thieves guild and the smugglers guild and all who until recently counted the night their ally were now on high alert.
Shadows were death traps now.
Shadows were deadly.
