Dominions: The Middle Ages [Hygen]

[Deleted]

(The original thread, for those interested.)

Name: “They call me Jean Saint-Monkfish, and I am the last to bear that surname.”



Kingdom: “Acroscephale, as I hear the sages have returned from their seclusion to once again walk with us mere men.” There is a biting, almost bitter tone in his voice.



Magic: “For those of my line, it is not wise to trifle with magic. We must get by on our wits and reflexes alone.”



Inventory: “I carry with me an old sabre that does not show its age, in spite of the large number of my kin it has slayed.” Here he pats the blade, warily.



Appearance: “To gratify my vanity, I have hidden my disfigurements with a white silken mask and gloves. The rest of my body cannot be seen in the folds of my long, dark robes.”



Goal: “There is a sage that went by the name Zargothrax centuries before. He was among those that have recently woken. Generations and generations ago, for reasons that have been lost to time, he cursed my ancestor and his descendents. It was threefold, this curse, in that it had three effects: Disfigurement, sheer unluck in magic, and that we would all eventually come to a violent end by this sword.” Here he pointed to the sabre again and spoke in an angry, determined voice. “I seek to avenge my family by killing Zargothrax with the very sword that has slain so many of my brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, and my father.”


Their questions asked and answered, the mercenaries return to their conversations and discussions as everyone continues their journey forward. You discover quickly that you've not yet been brought into the "fold", as it were. No one bothers to bring you into conversation, and not many try to talk to you, possibly because of your "interesting" appearance. That isn't to say no one talks to you, of course. The mage in particular tries to strike up a conversation with you, asking questions and discussing matters related to your curse, and Zargothrax. He seems to have at least a little bit of information on the man, and perhaps even your family, and he doesn't seem adverse to being asked about anything. 

[hygenisthygenist]

"If it is agreeable to you, sir, I'd like to know what Zargothrax has been up to, as of late. In exchange, I will tell you everything I know about my curse and my family, what I was able to learn about the latter. You seem to have quite a keen interest in this matter, so it would be only fitting that we should exchange this information in the spirit of camaraderie."

[Deleted]

"Not an interest, per say," responds the mage "but those of the mage community tend to keep tabs on those in the sage community, and vice versa. Zargothrax in particular is an ancient and powerful sage, so most of my sort at least know his name. Last I heard, he, and a few other old sages, set up in a monastery high atop the Alimery mountains. They live in seclusion, writing letters to the nobility of the land to advise them on what actions to take in the wars. I've heard he's working on some big magical break through as well, but that's just rumor, so take it cautiously."

[hygenisthygenist]

"I am much indebted to you, sir. Tell me, is there some way I can repay you for this information that might have otherwise taken years to find?" Jean makes a gesture of supplication. "I believe it is customary in this instance to offer gold, something which I sadly lack."

[Deleted]

"Ah, don't worry about it. You would have found this information pretty quickly, especially seeing as he's a pretty well known figure around Ithica." The mage stops and thinks for a moment, and it appears a thought has come to him "Well, actually, we'll be laying over in Ithica for a while, which isn't too terribly far from the Alimery mountain range. If you can find your way up to his little monastery, and find out what, if anything, he's working on, and then bring that information back to me in town, it'd be much appreciated."

[hygenisthygenist]

"Much obliged, goodman. I will do as you request: should I find anything magical of the sort you speak of, I will surely find you and let you know." With this, he lapses into silence for a little bit. Then something occurs to him: "Do you know what exactly I should be looking for? Or is it merely high concentrations of magic that should be alarming?"

[Deleted]

The mage shrugs. "Truth be told, I have no clue. I keep up with the work of anyone of stature, of course, but sometimes those of magical stature keep their projects under such tight lock and key that it's hard too keep up. However, I'm sure you can ask around Ithica for some information. The common riff-raff might not be the most reliable when it comes to inquiries of the mystical kind, but you'll probably get more information out of them than me."

[hygenisthygenist]

"Will do, sir. Once we arrive at my destination, I will carry out our shared business with as much efficacy as I can muster."

[Deleted]

The mage smiles and nods, saying "Good luck, friend." before he merged back into the rest of the mercenaries. It didn't appear that he had much else to talk with you about anyway, so continued attempts to converse would likely have been pointless.

Your journey from there continues in relative silence, at least where conversation was concerned. The mercenaries generally went about their own business and their own conversation, paying little head to you, save for the occasional bit of small talk. Luckily for you, Ithica wasn't too far off.

You and your group arrived just before total darkness enveloped the roads. You had passed numerous farms and mills and other such buildings for menial labor, as the Ithican farmland was rich, allowing for plentiful harvests and wealthy farmers, and caused numerous such plots of land to be settled and worked, as, once again, you can well tell. The crown jewel of these quiet and peaceful fields is, of course, the great white city of Ithica; the greatest center for knowledge in all the west. It shown like a great beacon, each of it's five hills projecting over the land, and each one sitting even higher than the last. The orange lights of those few citizens that still remained awake burned brightly, and encircled the hills, creating a great spiral of light. A top the highest hill sat the great observatory. It's majesty was a clear display the wealth and architectural prowess of Acroscephale, alongside their ability for forward-thinking.

You and your party approach the outer wall of the city, a towering white structure that looks like it'd block out even the fiercest of attacks. The gate is comprised of two large, imposing oakwood doors painted a dark blue color. The guards look you over as the leader informs them that you're a group of mercenaries looking to enter the city and find work. After a moment, the guards signal up to the gate house, and the giant wooden door opens, allowing you progress inside.

Once inside, you're greeted with simple charm of the first hill, also known as the lower class district. The buildings are made of white stone and wood, and they certainly don't look as grandiose as the whole city does from the distance, but they're certainly nothing horrible, and you've no doubt that any peasant down on his luck would love living here. The mercenaries divide up and head out to different parts of the district. The two Halberdiers head right, towards the the shopping area to see if they can pick up anything good for cheap. The mage, the blind boy, and the blind boy's guardian head straight ahead through the Lowest Hill district to the Second Hill district in search of a trinket shop the mage had heard about, and the rest of the group heads left to stop by the inn for some drink and to get everyone a room. You're free to do as you please.

[hygenisthygenist]

Jean Saint-Monkfish takes in the gate, dark blue doors and alabaster walls. He does so without betraying a hint of awe or fear or indeed, any emotion at all. It behooves him to be so. After all, he must concentrate on the tasks at hand: figure out what Zargothrax's latest magical projects are, and then kill him. To this end, he recalls the elderly mage's words about the common riffraff. Though they aren't the most reliable, they are a start. He heads towards the inn. Where else to better find such a breed of person?

[Deleted]

You follow the main group of mercenaries to the tavern. The area up to and around said tavern are bustling with activity, both from drunkards and those preparing to become as such. The building itself is made of white stone, as you might expect, and lacks anything covering the entrance or windows. There's also a patio out front, with some comfortable looking seating and tables where games of various types are occurring. Looking inside from where you are, you can see that the building is crowded with people of all shapes and sizes, drinking and having a good time, even this late into the evening. In fact, it's only after walking through the streets do you realize how bright and colorful and well decorated everything is. Even for a city such as this, it seems a bit excessive.

[hygenisthygenist]

Jean Saint-Monkfish takes it all in, noting the sheer amount of revelry and files it away for later. Another bit of information, another part closer to the completion of his mission. Briefly, he wondered what he would do after it was all said and done (that is, of course, if he survived). His eyes absentmindedly slide over the profiles of the people in the crowd, all the while remembering the fact that this is the first time a member of his family had set foot into this country in generations. He smiled underneath his mask, drinking in the glorious splendor of the city, only to shake it off and re-focus his efforts on the now. His brain-gears ground to work in to spin him up a lie to fool the bartender or anyone else he spoke to about his reasons for locating Zargothrax. After all, now he was in enemy territory.

His next course of action: Go inside and talk to the bartender. He may have some direct information, or heard bits and rumors regarding Zargothrax as whispered by the common folk themselves.

[Deleted]

The inside of the tavern was loud and rambunctious, filled to the brim and overflowing with merrymaking and joviality. It had a welcoming and casual air about, quite like you'd expect for a lower-class tavern. You get the feeling that many of the people in here were spending their only coins, and intended to savor ever minute of what they were buying. The bartender is a young, dirty looking man with a smile on his face. He seemed to been holding up a conversation with a couple raggedy looking gentlemen, but interrupts it when he notices you slide up to the bar. He approaches you, and with a cheery voice, asks you; 

"What can I do for ya this evanin'?"